Page 3 of A Song in the Dark

How could she be brave? She was scared. Helpless. A little blind orphan girl...

The tears returned in earnest. For weeks, she’d battled the dark and the nightmares that accompanied it. Days passed in a sludge of smothering unknowns. What would she do without her parents? What would she do without her sight?

And what would happen to the music that multiplied and grew inside her each day?

Mary Beth Brigman, the teacher Dr. G had brought in twenty-two days ago, coached her down the steps. “You’re doing splendidly, young lady. You’ve just about mastered every area of the house without any aid.”

At the bottom of the grand staircase, the coolness of the marble floor seeped through Chaisley’s thin ballet slippers and she bounced on the balls of her feet at the praise.

She knew every inch of her home now, and not just by counting her steps or touching the walls with her hands and floors with her feet.

No. Each room had its own sound. Its own pitch.

Its own smell and feel. And in her mind, notes played across the musical staff in a different melody for each one.

Mary Beth engulfed her in a hug. “I’m so proud of you, little miss. It’s barely been three weeks since we started and you amaze me every day. I’ll go fetch your grandmother so you can show her. You head on back up the staircase.”

She nodded, unable to contain a smile. Though her guardians had indeed gone to battle over her recovery, Dr. G had won, and the very next day Mary Beth arrived with a long stick.

The walking stick was great for their walks outdoors and helped her to navigate unknown surroundings, but she didn’t like to be hindered by it inside.

She’d much rather skip and jump and glide through her own home.

Each day, she felt a little stronger. A little braver. A little more alive.

As she turned for the stairs, a strange sensation tugged at her. Melodies and harmonies and symphonies burst into her mind. Notes from the lowest of basses to the highest of trebles.

Sliding her feet back round, she hesitated. Dare she? The room called to her. The music begged her. A lone tear slid down her cheek. She hadn’t wanted to venture back into that room since that terrible night....

She inhaled but didn’t dare move just yet. She released her breath as the music inside her swelled.

It was back. Wholly and completely.

The music exploded in her head and heart.

No stopping the pull—it drew her like a magnet.

She touched her right heel behind her to the stair and felt the line of it.

If she turned forty-five degrees, she’d be facing her beloved music room.

Without counting her steps, she headed straight toward it.

The room that had been closed since her birthday and—

No. The nightmare couldn’t control her any longer. The loss of her parents couldn’t squelch the beauty that deep down she knew lay ahead.

If only she allowed the music to take over. Fill her heart. Soothe her mind.

Her right foot met the bottom of the door. Both hands reached for the brass handles she could see in her mind’s eye.

She pushed and wrinkled her nose. Stale air permeated the room like a musty perfume.

Still she moved forward. The warmth from the sun spilled over her.

Father had built walls of windows into this room.

At least the staff hadn’t drawn all the drapes.

The warmth on her face told her the sun was shining in.

Hands held out in front of her, Chaisley searched for what she desired most. The one thing that would bring a smile as it reminded her of her parents for the rest of her life.

She walked straight into it and jolted from the force of the bump. The slick surface felt wonderful under her hands, soothing the ache inside. As she allowed her fingers to guide her, she knew she was standing in the great curve on the right-hand side.

Working her way around to the keyboard, a sensation she hadn’t felt since her birthday bubbled up inside her tummy.

Excitement.

With a swift turn to put the piano at her back, she steadied herself and then counted her steps back to the double doors. But she ran into the doorjamb instead.

Which was just as well, as she’d left the doors open.

Something she quickly rectified. With the click of the doors, she turned again and held the handles behind her back.

Using all the techniques Mary Beth had taught her, she focused and counted steps again. To the edge of the piano. Then back to the doors. This time she ran into the left door. Almost center. Better try again. Back to the piano again.

Ten times she repeated the process until it was exact and she found her way each time.

With a shaky breath, she allowed a smile and lifted her chin.

At the piano, the fallboard was down over the keys, the bench pushed in.

But she fixed that within seconds and let her hands find their way.

Without making a sound, she skimmed them up and down the keyboard with reverence.

She remembered what it all looked like. The sets of two black keys and the sets of three black keys divided up the white keys, making the notes easy to find.

From left to right, C was before a set of two. F before a set of three.

In her mind, the picture unfolded...

And she could see . Her fingers moved over the keys, the music rippling like a ribbon in her mind. The tip of her nose burned as tears rose to the surface. Her sight wasn’t coming back. And neither were her parents.

She knew that.

But right now, sitting at her piano, she felt like any moment she would soar right out a window and into the heavens. A sense of purpose poured out of her into the keys, a melody swirling and rushing through her like a river in a storm.

The smile that broke through her grief warmed her to her toes.

And for the first time since the accident that stole everything from her, Chaisley had hope.

Celestia Frappier hooked the ornate cane over her arm and rushed to the house to see Chaisley.

The walk uphill to the manor had kept her in shape all these years, but the ache in her hip after kneeling at the family cemetery reminded her she wasn’t getting any younger.

More painful than the ache in her hip was the ache in her heart.

The loss of her only child and his wife had taken its toll.

Like part of her heart had been wrenched from her chest while the remaining pieces struggled to be put back together.

But she’d done everything in her power to not let her granddaughter see it.

Melanie—the sweet daughter of Chaisley’s teacher—had run out to the garden to fetch her for a ‘spectacular look-see at the bottom of the stairs,’ as the young girl put it. Mary Beth always summoned Celestia for each milestone her granddaughter achieved.

Chaisley had made so much progress, it astounded her. She sighed. She’d have to apologize to Grafton—he’d been right after all. But she didn’t mind. Not one bit. It was a good thing the man would be there for afternoon tea. They had much to discuss.

As for her own battered heart, it would heal. Especially with the joy of Chaisley around.

Just then, Mary Beth trotted around the corner in a most unladylike manner. But the young woman beamed, and Celestia understood her excitement. The whole house brimmed with the news of her granddaughter’s daily progress.

Losing sight wouldn’t hold the child back.

Celestia felt the crinkles around her eyes deepen as she smiled. What joy the little girl had brought into her grief-stricken life.

But upon reaching the staircase, she gasped. No sign of Chaisley anywhere.

“Um, I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll run up and see if she’s taking a rest. Or possibly a jaunt to the loo.”

Mary Beth was halfway to the top when a glissando reached Celestia’s ears.

What?

Her heart clenched at the memory of Chaisley’s birthday and her present. With an abrupt turn, she headed toward the music room, Mary Beth close on her heels.

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Celestia had ordered everyone to stay clear of the room since that awful night. No one had dared to enter other than the one maid that was allowed to clean in there.

Arpeggios up and down the piano sounded. Then a spectacular and flowing melody.

When Celestia reached the doors, she stopped. Her heart thundered. Her mouth dropped open. With a shaking hand, she opened one door and then stared. The song grew in volume and harmonies. The music coming from the instrument was beautiful. Unlike anything she’d ever heard before.

It jolted at a dissonant chord. The music stopped. Chaisley’s mumbled words couldn’t be deciphered, but then the music started again.

Celestia peered across the room. Could her eyes and ears be deceiving her?

No. It was true! Her granddaughter sat on the bench, her eyes wide open, face toward the windows, a jubilant smile lifting her lips.

Mary Beth nudged Celestia and whispered, “My goodness, Mrs. Frappier, you didn’t tell me the child could play. I would’ve brought her in here had I known. How long has she been studying?”

Celestia could only shake her head.

“Ma’am? Are you quite all right?”

The sweet girl’s question brought Celestia out of her stupor. She closed her mouth and composed herself. She swallowed and cleared her throat. How could she explain this? There was no way ... other than divine appointment.

“We must call Monsieur Beaufort immediately.” The words spilled out on a soft whisper.

“Who?” Mary Beth stepped in front of her, brows knit deep. “Ma’am, I’m confused.”

“Monsieur Beaufort is the piano teacher.” With a deep breath, Celestia put into words the only explanation she could give—the truth. “Three hours, Mary Beth. That’s it.”

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“My granddaughter ... she’s had one lesson and only played three hours prior to today.”