Page 4 of Pursued Beyond Treachery (Harrowed Hearts #2)
S usannah’s fingers ran over the black and ivory keys with such speed that perspiration beaded on her forehead. Moisture pooled in her eyes but she gritted her teeth and pushed it back, refusing to let emotion take control.
“It is not a race, you know,” Lady Stanford said from the doorway of the music room at Havencrest.
Startled, Susannah's fingers came to a crashing halt. Usually the Stanfords left her alone to pour her feelings into their piano, something she appreciated.
Lady Stanford crossed the room to stand by her. “Is not that piece played at a slower tempo?’
Reaching beyond the pain that still lingered at the surface, Susannah managed to find a smile. “Perhaps it was a little rushed, but Beethoven’s work is meant to be played with some speed.”
“True.”
Her Ladyship’s blue eyes studied her far too closely and Susannah redirected her gaze to the piano keys. Slowly she played a Scotch ballad from memory, allowing her fingers to float along the keys at an acceptable pace.
The gentle lull of the song did not lend an escape to the turbulent feelings rushing about inside her, but there was no need to worry Lady Stanford with her problems.
Scooting onto the bench next to her, Her Ladyship asked, “Are you excited to go to London?”
A true smile pulled at Susannah’s lips. “I am indeed. Tell me, do they really have a lion at the Tower of London?”
“Yes, and a bear or two.”
“I should like to see a bear. Can they really stand on their hind legs like people?”
Lady Stanford confirmed they could and went on to explain in great detail her last visit to the menagerie, but Susannah paid little attention to her description.
She was not usually so inattentive. On any other day she would relish the details, asking enough questions to keep them talking until supper.
Today, however, her grief had collided with reality and ricocheted off every corner of her heart. It had been Mama’s greatest wish for Susannah to have a London season, and now she would have one—but her mama would not be there.
She’d taken solace in knowing that John would be, but he seemed fairly put out with her good fortune. He’d not even congratulated her, only stared at her like she’d lost her senses. Then again, he’d never liked Town all that much, but that did not mean she could not enjoy it.
There were so many places she wished to see, like Vauxhall Gardens, Hyde Park, the opera, even the Royal Academy’s Art exhibits.
Mostly, she looked forward to finally being acknowledged as a grown woman.
She’d been out in Society for nearly two years, although most of that time had been spent at home caring for her mother, but the way John behaved one would think she still scampered about in short dresses, picking flowers and climbing trees.
The steady soft rhythm of the music began to grow in both speed and volume, drowning out Lady Stanford’s words.
Her Ladyship’s dark eyebrows pinched together as she glanced down at Susannah’s hands, then back at her face. “Miss Wayland, is something upsetting you?”
Susannah slowly stopped, curling her fingers and shutting her eyes. Why could she not rein in her emotions? She’d done so well these last few months, limiting her tears and making certain she did not burden those around her.
She let out a slow breath. “I am perhaps a bit fatigued.”
It was the excuse she often used. In reality she was sinking into a dark abyss of loneliness that threatened to swallow her whole. But sharing her feelings only brought others down with her, and she could not bear to be the rain in their day.
She’d seen the way her father and siblings had floundered after her mother’s passing.
It was especially apparent when she did not work to keep up a brave front.
They needed her to be the positivity in their lives and she’d much rather be their sunshine, even if it meant a gale of unearthly proportions brewed inside her tired mind.
“You have been playing for quite some time today.” Lady Stanford glanced down at the piano. “Let me call for some tea and we can discuss the dresses we need to have fitted for you.”
“Dresses?”
“Well, of course. You do not believe I’d take you to London without a town-worthy wardrobe, do you?”
“But I—”
Lady Stanford held up her hand. “Not one more word. I will have my way on this, Miss Wayland, so you best not argue.” The right corner of her lips tipped up and she shook a playful finger at her. “And you know how often I get my way.”
Susannah chuckled. The beautiful woman did get her way quite often, but only because her way was generous. Who could refuse such kindness?
“Thank you, Lady Stanford,” she said as they exited the music room. “I do not know how I can ever repay your generosity.”
“You do not. If you repaid me, it would not be generosity. It would be a loan, and I am not the Bank of England.”