Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Dorian burst through the door and strode across the room to the piano. Emma shrank away from him, leaving a clear path towards Lenora.

“I was showing Lenora the house,” she stammered. “I didn’t intend to upset you or intrude.”

“Lenora knows this house inside and out. We romped through every part of it as children. That doesn’t explain why the two of you are going through my things.”

“We weren’t,” Lenora said. “This was lying right out in plain sight.” She held up the score with its several crossed-out titles, with the final word, “Lenora.” “It seems to me that you have some explaining to do, Dorian!”

Charles Hooper craned to one side then the other, trying so see around Dorian’s back. “What’s going on? I thought we were all friends here?” The grin on his face was perilously close to being a smirk.

Emma plucked at his sleeve, her face worried and upset. “Come away. Let them settle it.”

“But I want to stay for the drama of it all,” he protested.

She tugged upon his sleeve insistently until he gave way to her efforts and left the room.

“Explain yourself,” Dorian demanded. “Why are you in my music room when I am not at home?”

“You explain yourself,” Lenora shot back. “Why is my name on a piece of music you are writing?”

“Lenora is a common enough name,” Dorian defended himself. “It is no great thing, really. Why are you in here?”

“I’m in here because Emma was showing me all the places she thinks are wonderful but are where you and I spent our childhood. I was feeling a bit irritated, so I got in here ahead of her.”

“A likely excuse. Did you not think that I would return?” Dorian snarled.

Lenora sniffed, tilting her nose so she could look down it at Dorian, which was no small feat since he was the taller by several inches. “Emma said you were on your way to Bristol to take Mr Hooper to a concerto, and then you were going to work. No doubt she was lonely. It seems to me that it would be a better thing to take your fiance to a music event.”

“It was for his research, and I did not intend to stay,” Dorian said grumpily. “And anyway, we didn’t arrive because we lost a carriage wheel. We had to send for a carter and ride the team back. But why are you here, in the music room?”

“We were walking through the house, and I was telling her stories about the silly things we used to do as children. I even showed her how to slide down the bannister.”

Dorian crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly.

“The door to the music room was open, so we came in. How was I to know that you were writing my name on things?”

Dorian sighed. “I’ve been working on that piece for some time. I couldn’t seem to think of the right title. Then I realized the piece reminds me of you.”

“Of me? How can I be like a piece of music? And anyway, is it truly about me? You said Lenora was a common enough name.”

“No, no,” Dorian said quickly. “The music is like you. Or at least it reminds me of you. Or you were my inspiration.”

“Piffle,” Lenora said. They glared at each other, both with arms folded across their chests. “Such a lot of stuff and nonsense. It reminds me of when we were children, and you got caught out in a lie.”

“You certainly weren’t above lying when it suited you,” Dorian shot back.

She tapped her foot and looked as if she would like to stamp it. “Never said I was. But if it makes you think of me, or you modelled it on me, play it for me.”

Dorian felt his face flush. “I can’t. I mean, I couldn’t. I mean . . .”

“You mean you’re just being a cad about it. You put my name on sheet music, and you won’t let me hear it.”

“It isn’t like that,” Dorian pleaded.

“Are you going to put bawdy verses to it?” Lenora taunted.

“As if I would! I would never do anything to tarnish your reputation.”

“Play it for me,” Lenora demanded. “I want to hear it for myself.”

“What? No!” Dorian said. “It isn’t finished.”

“So? Play what you have.”

“Fine!” Dorian said, throwing up his hands. He organized the pages on the music rack and seated himself before the keyboard.

He stumbled at first, his hands shaking so hard he could scarcely find the right keys, but he soon lost himself and his nervousness in the music. The melody flowed beneath his fingers.

At first, the melody was light, dancing along like a child playing a circle game or skipping rope. Then it grew heavier, darker, wilder before smoothing out into an almost studious tone. It then became pensive, almost as light as the beginning, but smoother. It was almost like a country dance, then it flowed into a waltz and finally into a wedding march. Somehow, Dorian made the pianoforte teeter on the edge of a musical cliff. It then swooped and went back to the light-skipping rhythm from the beginning.

Lenora simply stared at him, her eyes wide in astonishment.

“I’ve never seen you so quiet,” Dorian said jovially. “Perhaps I should play for you more often.”

“That piece makes you think of me?” Lenora asked, a sense of wonder colouring her tones. “It’s beautiful.”

“It does,” he said. He stood up and crossed the room, planning to apologize to her for his earlier tone. He held out his hand, and Lenora willingly gave him hers. He felt his heart would burst with the tenderness he felt for her. He lifted her hand towards his lips.

Behind him, the door creaked. Lenora snatched her hand back, and Dorian turned to see who had entered.

Charles Hooper clapped enthusiastically. “Excellent! Excellent! I’ve never heard finer music.”

“It is, indeed, a fine composition,” Lenora said hastily. “But I pray that you will excuse me. I just remembered that I have an appointment with Reuben.” The door almost slammed behind her.

“You have the most hideous timing,” Dorian said to Charles. “I suppose you were listening to everything?”

“Listening? Oh, no, of course not. Only to the music, and I truly could not step away from that. It tells me that Lenora has broken your heart in the same way that Iris Blanche has broken mine.”

“Charlie, I think you have the wrong idea. Lenora and I have been friends since we were small children. It was not until I reached the end of the stanzas that I realized that she was my inspiration.”

“Perhaps. But I can assure you that Iris has rejected me, and I am inconsolable.”

Dorian lifted an eyebrow. “Inconsolable? You?”

“Beyond all hope of recovery, yet I must soldier on. Perhaps you will come to London with me? We can distract ourselves together.”

Dorian sighed. “I have business here that I must attend to. Hospitals do not run themselves, you know.”

Charles frowned for a moment, almost pouting, then asked, “Could I at least have a copy of the score? I’m going to London to put my play together. I could make use of such a fine piece of music.”

“Why would you want it?” Dorian grumbled. “It is just a childish twiddle, after all. I cannot think that it would have any value to you at all.”

“But I want it!” Charlie exclaimed, grabbing for the score. “It would be perfect as a background for my play. It only wants a trifle of embellishment.”

Dorian could not say why, but it seemed a violation of his childhood friend to allow Charles to have the score, He used his greater height to hold it up and away from Charles. “It is mine,” he protested. “Besides, it is not finished.”

“Then finish it, and let me take it with me,” Charles pleaded. “It would be perfect. Besides, now that I have heard it, anything else would be a poor second to this.”

Dorian scowled at his erstwhile friend. “Thank you for your kind words, but I believe I shall stick to honouring my father’s wishes. Ask anything else, and I will do my best to help you.”

Charles scowled at Dorian, and for a moment, it almost seemed as if he would take a swing at him. But then he relented, sagging into an attitude of disappointment. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll accept what help you can give, but I still say you should come with me and be my music director. Nothing could be of greater assistance to me nor please me more.”

“I said no,” Dorian snapped. “Go pack or whatever it is you need to do. I’ll see you in the morning.

After the door had closed behind the impetuous playwright, Dorian sat down at the keyboard. His left hand gently kept a soft rhythm on the bass keys while his right twiddled away on the treble. The melody became deeper and slower as he played, in keeping with his mood.

So, he mused, Lenora had a meeting with Reuben. That was the goal all along, was it not? A way of distracting her from his engagement to Emma? Yet, there was a dark, hollow place inside him that he feared he could put a name to if he but tried. He forced the music into brighter, lighter tones. He had made promises. He should give his best efforts to keep them.

It was the right thing to do. But somehow, it felt as if he was a stable hand who had been caught shovelling dung into the horse stalls instead of out. Emma was a lovely young lady. She would grace his dining hall, play the perfect hostess, and never say a word that was the slightest bit inappropriate. But she was not and never would be, Lenora.

His fingers stilled on the keyboard, and he sat staring across the room. He felt unsettled and more than a little uncomfortable, although he could not say why. Slowly, his fingers moved into the beginning of the sheet music in front of him, as if by playing the piece, he could conjure up its subject. He’d not set out to write about Lenora, but she truly was his muse.