Page 3 of A Sonata for the Fiery Lady
“That will be all, Mr Quinn. The funeral will be held in two days’ time. You’ll need to return tomorrow for the payment in order to secure everything,” Mrs Jenkins said dismissing Oliver without even looking up from the paperwork she’d filled out, having Oliver just sign his name at the bottom to verify the death certificate.
“Thank you, Mrs Jenkins,” Oliver said as he rose and left the office. As soon as he stepped out of the room, Constable Williams was there, along with the gut-wrenching stench of the building. The constable gestured for Oliver to follow him as they left the building together.
As he followed the constable back to the waiting carriage, Oliver took several breaths of fresh air, never before being so thankful to breath outside air that was tainted with death. His head felt less dizzy as he stepped up into the carriage and quickly rested against the back of the bench as the carriage took off.
“I’m going to take you home, Mr Quinn, because you look quite ghastly. I’m going to construct my official report and come by tomorrow to have you sign it, stating that your father was murdered and that you are saying you did not kill him,” Constable Williams said as he continued to study Oliver.
“Indeed, sir. I have no reason to want to kill my father. He was my only living relative, and he never spoke of any other family,” Oliver said, a sob rising in his throat as he clamped his hand over his mouth. He’d never felt so alone in his life. “I simply cannot believe that he is dead and that anyone would cause him any harm. He was a good worker for Mr Mathews, the cobbler, and though he frequented the gaming hells, he never gambled more than he could afford.”
“Forgive me, Mr Quinn, but that little detail is hard to believe. Most go to gaming hells because they are desperate to get lucky and win a large fortune. Perhaps your father secretly owed someone money and that person took his life?” the constable wondered.
“I understand your perspective, Constable, and that you are only doing your job. But I testify that my father wasn’t addicted to gambling. He simply went to enjoy socializing with others and trying his luck at the card tables. But he’s always been a very reasonable man, hardworking, and not one to waste money,” Oliver said with the same passion he had when he played the piano.
To Oliver, it seemed that the constable believed him. But Oliver wasn’t sure that he could rest easily until he knew who had killed his father. After all, if someone was intent on taking his father’s life, who was to say that this killer wouldn’t come for him next?
Oliver was pulled from his thoughts as the carriage came to a halt at the intersection down from his apartment building. He turned his eyes to the street, knowing that he’d have to get out of the carriage and make his way back to his apartment, alone. That when he returned, his father wouldn’t be there. Nor could he ever expect his father to return to their small home in town.
“Thank you, Constable Williams. You’ve been a help to me this dreadful day,” Oliver said as he nodded to the man while alighting from the carriage.
“Till tomorrow, Mr Quinn,” the constable called before pulling shut the carriage door and calling orders to the driver.
Oliver walked slowly down the street, not in a hurry like so many moving around him. He was truly in no rush, knowing he had a few hours until he’d be expected at the Earl’s home to prepare for this evening’s performance. He took each step of the staircase to his apartment gradually, his hand firmly on the rail to keep his balance as he feared that he was about to be sick. He was successful at keeping the bile at bay until he reached his apartment and threw open the window, sticking his head out and heaving up every ounce of substance in his stomach that he’d fought to keep down. His mess landed in the back alley below where most contents were thrown, making their way to the sewer below.
Thinking of the sewer made him cringe as he leaned back into his apartment and shut the window, the image of his father in his mind. He slumped to the floor then and wrapped his arms around his knees as he pressed his forehead to his kneecaps. He let the sobs come then, his body shaking as he cried and wailed. He let the pain wash over him as he grieved for his father, praying that someone would come to take the pain away from him. But as an hour went by, still no one came to comfort him or give him their sympathies.
It took a while for Oliver to regain control of his emotions. He eventually pushed himself back up onto his feet and made his way to his room, needing to get ready for tonight’s performance. And though he was usually always eager to play for an audience with his fellow musicians, tonight he simply wanted everything to be over. He didn’t want to be around anyone, and he didn’t feel much like playing the piano. But as he reminded himself that tomorrow he’d have to pay for his father’s funeral, a cost that was four times the amount of rent he was used to paying, he knew that he couldn’t skip out on this job. Tonight’s performance could perhaps be the one thing that could save him from being completely insolvent.
Chapter 3
Melisa knew that she couldn’t hide forever. Even though she’d taken a long bath, followed by a leisurely walk through the park, despite her lady-in-waiting’s warning, eventually her mother came looking for her.
“I’m sure you must be beside yourself with nerves, my dear,” Lady Stanton said cheerfully as she walked into Melisa’s bedchamber as Miss Thorsten prepared to dress her in her evening gown. Lady Stanton was already dressed for the evening in a flowing crimson gown that highlighted her petite frame. While her mother had long, dark curls, Melisa had inherited her father’s bright blonde hair and blue eyes. Melisa viewed her mother as more of an Italian looking woman than an English lady, but would never dare telling her so.
Melisa smiled at her mother, knowing that if she opened her mouth and tried to lie that she was excited to be attending the ball, having only attended a few in the past despite being familiar with all the latest dances, she would more than likely burst into tears. So instead, Melisa forced a smile as her mother began to fuss with Miss Thorsten over how Melisa was to be dressed and the styling of her hair.
Once Miss Thorsten assured Lady Stanton that Melisa would be the gem of the ball, Miss Thorsten started to instruct the three other maids in the room on preparing Melisa. She simply stood with her arms out as her walking gown was pulled from her body, her shift and stay being replaced with new ones, a corset being fastened around her body to hug her already slim figure. Stockings were placed on her legs and secured to the garter around her waist. Next, a petticoat was placed on the floor for her to step into before it was pulled up her legs and fastened around her waist. Only when all the bottom layers were secured was the gown then carefully placed over Melisa.
She was soon dressed in a silk gown, the fabric reminding her of sapphires as the material shimmered in the fading sunlight. Miss Thorsten then ordered to have several candles lit so she could begin fixing Melisa’s hair. All the while, her mother had sat and enjoyed evening tea as she watched Melisa being dressed, her eyes critical of every detail to ensure that this evening her daughter would be gossiped as the most beautiful young lady in all of England.
Melisa sat carefully in a chair to allow Miss Thorsten to begin pinning up her long blonde hair, teasing it into curls with pins decorated with pearls on the ends. Melisa couldn’t deny that she enjoyed getting dressed up since she rarely had the chance. For a while, she daydreamed of what it would be like to be attending a normal ball where she would be introduced to every eligible gentleman, trying to decide which one she could someday fall in love with and perhaps marry. But tonight, Melisa wasn’t attending this ball to have fun. She was attending so the world would know that she was already betrothed and would be officially engaged. In a few weeks, the wedding ceremony would take place and then she’d be living with a man that was almost twice her age.
“I can’t believe that soon my daughter shall be married,” Lady Stanton said then, as though she’d been reading her daughter’s mind. “What will I do with myself when you are gone, my dear?”
Melisa watched her mother behind her through the looking glass, wondering if she was being serious. They’d rarely done anything together and only spoke during meals. Could her mother really miss her?
“You could always come visit me, Mother. I’m sure there will be times when I’ll need your expert advice for managing the household,” Melisa said, thinking of the most appropriate thing to say instead of what she wanted to say.
“Of course, my dear. I shall visit you often and help you manage the Duke’s household. He must keep many servants since he could easily afford them. And think of all the dinner parties you’ll help host with all of your friends. They will surely be jealous of you when they come to visit your new home,” Lady Stanton remarked, her voice cheery as her eyes drifted around the room as though envisioning what it would be like to be a Duchess.
Melisa bit the inside of her cheek, trying to remain in control of her emotions since her mother very well knew that she didn’t have any friends. It was because she was kept at home that she lacked the opportunity to make friends, and the guests that her parents invited to dinner rarely brought their own daughters to attend. It was as though her parents’ small circle of acquaintances was always competing against each other and could never be bothered by their offspring.
“I can’t imagine how happy you must be, my dear, to be soon marrying a Duke. Lord Smithers is such an amiable man There are many young ladies who would do anything to be in your slippers tonight, Melisa. Lord Smithers is charming, of good breeding and fortune, and is bound to make you happy by seeing to your every need,” Lady Stanton said, rambling a bit as she continued to talk despite her daughter’s lack of participation. Melisa had learned from a young age that her mother enjoyed the sound of her own voice and could very well keep on a conversation all of her own.
“Do you know what I’ve heard about Lord Smithers, Mother?” Melisa spoke up as she could no longer take her mother’s ridiculous words.
“What is that, my dear?” Lady Stanton asked pleasantly.
“I’ve heard that Lord Smithers is a womanizer whose bed many young ladies, promising the title of Duchess before he robs them of their innocence,” Melisa said.
