Page 69 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #1)

‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t be. Doesn’t a pianist usually have a turner?’

‘At a recital in a concert hall, yes, usually a student or someone of that nature. Although Alicia Ferrari’s husband turns for her.’

‘Well, then, Chloe Sands’s mother should turn for her.’

‘Do you think so? Would your grandmother think it a liberty, perhaps?’

‘Grandmère never notices anything that doesn’t discommode her, so as long as you are in the background, she will probably have no idea you are there.

By the way,’ he said, to distract her, ‘if Miss Sands does become a famous international pianist, she’ll have to change her name.

Alicia Ferrari sounds so much more impressive than Chloe Sands.

I think, actually, an Italian name is almost compulsory. How about Chiara Sabbia?’

Now she laughed. ‘You really are an absurd boy!’

He liked the laughter, but didn’t care for the ‘boy’ part.

He called on his grandmother. ‘You didn’t tell me Miss Sands was to play at your musical evening.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘When have I ever discussed the details of my entertainments with you? Do you wish to approve the menu of refreshments, too?’

‘Now, bellissima , don’t be facetious,’ he said. ‘You know I have a particular interest in Miss Sands.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I have noticed it.’ She was more convinced than ever that he was in love with the girl. Why else had he rushed here as soon as he had had the invitation? ‘And why are you speaking Italian to me?’

‘Because I’ve just been talking about Alicia Ferrari, so the language was in my head.’

‘Hmm. Not a bad pianist, but I don’t care for her style. Sir Thomas had a little histoire with her, many years ago.’

‘So it seems he liked her style, at any rate.’

‘Don’t be vulgar. Well, what else have you to say about my soirée? You will come. I will not accept any excuse.’

‘Oh, I will come. I don’t dare defy you when you resort to pen and ink. I suppose,’ he said, trying to sound casual, ‘you won’t object if she brings someone to turn for her.’

Grandmère’s eyes narrowed. ‘I know that tone. What tracasserie are you plotting now? If you mean yourself – you are already invited. If you wish to turn for her, say so.’

‘I don’t read music well enough to turn. I think she would like her mother to do it.’

He braced himself for some violent objection, but his grandmother only looked thoughtful, and said, ‘I see no reason to object. In fact, it would suit my purposes quite well.’

‘What purposes?’ he asked nervously. ‘What are you plotting, Grandmère?’

‘Not your business,’ she snapped. ‘She may come. That is all.’

‘Will you come now, please, miss – and madam?’ said the butler.

Mrs Sands and Chloe had been waiting in a small, book-lined room on the ground floor.

They had heard the sound of music faintly from upstairs – someone playing the flute, accompanied by the piano.

Then silence had fallen. And now this butler, with the manner so grand it would have served one of the more magnificent French kings, came to summon them.

Chloe threw her mother a terrified look as they fell in behind him.

At the foot of the stairs they had to stop to allow someone to come down – a slender girl, even younger-looking than Chloe, carrying a flute case, and preceded by a dark young man in evening dress. The girl made a face at Chloe as she passed – a complex mixture of despair, relief and sympathy.

They mounted the stairs, towards a murmur of voices like the distant sea.

The butler threw open the doors, and they stepped into the drawing-room.

The two halves had been thrown together by the folding back of the dividing doors; the piano was pushed to the centre of one half, while in the other half little gilded rout-chairs had been arranged in rows, and an array of glittering people was sitting there expectantly.

Chloe had not known what to expect – something more casual, certainly: people grouped on sofas and in armchairs, chatting and drinking coffee or champagne while she played.

This was arranged like a proper recital, and she faltered.

There was no applause at her entrance, but the murmur of conversation died away, serious eyes examined her, and in some cases a lorgnon was raised for a better scrutiny.

They all looked very rich and important and there were a great many diamonds in the room.

Of the only two familiar faces one was Richard’s – he was sitting in the centre of the front row next to an elderly lady, presumably his grandmother.

Chloe had, of course, never met her, though she had played in her house for months.

Richard was looking oddly nervous, which didn’t reassure Chloe: he raised an eyebrow at her and gave a quirk of the mouth that could have meant anything from All is well to Run like the devil .

The other familiar face was even more unnerving, because – sitting on the other side of the old lady, handsome head thrown back in anticipation, a faint smile on his face, his evening dress gleaming and immaculate – it belonged to Sir Thomas Burton, pianist, conductor and impresario.

It was fortunate that at that point her mother administered a sharp pinch to the flesh of her waist – the nearest part to her – making her jerk into action, or she might have remained stranded halfway across the carpet.

But as soon as she sat at the piano she felt better.

For one thing, she could not now see the audience unless she made an effort to; and for another, the piano was familiar, an old friend.

She knew its voice, she knew what it could do, and she had played all this music before.

Her mother had placed the music on the top and was about to lay the first piece on the rack, but Chloe put up a hand and stopped her, and exchanged the first piece for the second.

They had discussed the order at home, and had assumed that people would be chatting while she played, certainly at first, so they had picked a quiet piece to begin with.

But now, with Sir Thomas in the front row, she wanted to make an impression, have them all jump and pay attention.

She pulled out the second piece, smiled and nodded at her mother, and as soon as it was opened in front of her, leaped into Dvo?ák’s ‘Capriccio’.

There was applause at the end. Chloe had almost forgotten about the audience by then, and it surprised her a little.

Her mother put a hand under her elbow, urging her to rise, and she did, and bowed her head, smiling vaguely at the glittering people.

Richard jumped up and came over to her as the applause died away and people began moving.

‘You were wonderful,’ he murmured. ‘Everyone was listening, even Lord Strathmore, who usually falls asleep in these things. Grandmère was really impressed. She frowned all the way through, which is a good sign. When she smiles, it means she’s hiding rage or disappointment.’

‘Richard, stop, you’re making her nervous,’ said Mrs Sands. She was gathering the music together. ‘We’d better go, so as not to be in the way.’

‘No, Grandmère sent me over to ask you to stay where you are until everyone’s gone.

She wants to talk to you.’ He gave them a reassuring smile, and went back to help his grandmother say goodbye to the guests.

Chloe and her mother sat down together on the piano stool so as to be inconspicuous.

Chloe began to shiver a little, and Mrs Sands felt a mother’s crossness at keeping them waiting, when she really wanted to get her girl home and make her some cocoa.

She supposed the old lady just wanted to thank her in person – at best, she might have another recital to offer.

Suddenly they were there, Richard, the very elegant old lady and, at her shoulder, the terrifying Sir Thomas Burton. Everyone else had gone, except for two servants quietly removing the chairs.

The old lady did not waste time. ‘I am Lady Stainton, Miss Sands. You are Mrs Sands? How do you do? Thank you for playing for us. It was most enjoyable. In fact, of course, I have been listening to you playing for a long time, but I wanted to hear you properly, in the same room, and to see how you performed in front of an audience. I was not disappointed.’

‘Thank you—’ Chloe began, but a thin, ring-heavy hand was raised to stop her speaking.

‘I have a proposition for you. Sir Thomas has a proposition, in fact. You know Sir Thomas Burton.’

‘We know of him, of course,’ Molly Sands said. ‘I recognised you from your picture in the papers, sir.’

Sir Thomas smiled graciously at her and, after a tiny moment of thought, extended his hand.

‘Delighted to make your acquaintance,’ he said, then turned to Chloe with a look her mother afterwards classified as almost hungry.

‘Miss Sands. I have been impressed by what I heard here tonight. Lady Stainton,’ he turned his head to acknowledge her, ‘has spoken to me about you, but of course one has to hear for oneself to be sure. You have a remarkable talent.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Chloe said, in a very small voice. She was trembling like a vibrating leaf, though whether still with cold or something else now, her mother couldn’t be sure.

‘I like to take an interest in promising young musicians,’ he continued.

‘Bring them on, help them to realise their potential. I would like to sponsor you for a place at the Royal Academy. I will cover all expenses,’ this was addressed to Mrs Sands, ‘so there is no need to worry about anything. You will study composition and music theory with the other students, but I will oversee your piano studies myself, with the expectation – if you develop satisfactorily, of course, it is not a guarantee – with the prospect , let us say, of a career as a soloist. I have connections and influence all over the world, and a protégée of mine can expect to go far, very far indeed.’

When they had all gone, even Sir Thomas, and only Richard was left, and he was preparing to take his leave, Grandmère said, ‘Help me to my room, child. Simone will be asleep in a chair, and if I ring, it will take her so long to get down here, you may as well give me your arm instead.’

She moved slowly, and he shortened his steps to hers. Her hand was light on his arm. It struck him that she was more tired than he would expect after an evening of music.

‘It was so good of you to arrange all this for Chloe,’ he said.

‘It was not for her, foolish. Or for you. It was for music itself. I have no time for personalities. The music is all that matters.’

‘Well,’ he said. ‘As you say.’ They climbed the stairs so slowly he felt the silence was awkward, and sought for something else to say. ‘Sir Thomas really was impressed with her.’

‘He will have her, of course,’ Grandmère said indifferently. ‘I know that look. But she has talent enough to survive. Not like that silly flautist. I hope, petit , that you won’t mind too much?’

Her words had shocked him, but he rallied – he would not seem unsophisticated in front of her. She could not really have meant it. ‘Why should I mind?’ he said lightly.

She gave him a sidelong look. ‘ Insouciance? Do not you love her?’

‘Good God, no,’ he said. ‘I just think she’s jolly good. I like listening to her.’

‘ Jolly good,’ she repeated, musing. Not the praise of a lover, she thought. So what was his game? Could it really be nothing but altruism? ‘I think perhaps you are growing up, chéri ,’ she said.

‘Gosh, not me, Granny,’ Richard said. ‘I intend to remain for ever twenty-five.’

He was happy for Chloe – he didn’t take Grandmère’s warning about Sir Thomas too seriously – but what he was mostly thinking was that, with Chloe away at the Academy all day, he would have Mrs Sands to himself.