Page 4 of A Sonata for the Fiery Lady
Miss Thorsten’s hands paused what they were doing with Melisa’s hair as both she and Lady Stanton stared at Melisa, completely shocked by what she’d just said. Melisa just stared back at her mother, unaffected by her own words as she watched her mother’s face turn red as though she was holding her breath.
“Leaves us, Thorsten,” Lady Stanton barked, causing the young lady to jump and scurry from the room, pulling the bedchamber door securely shut. Melisa turned towards her mother as she stood and neared Melisa, pointing a finger at her.
“I don’t know what vile person told you such lies and I don’t care. But you’ll do better than to speak ill of the Duke. You’re lucky to be marrying such a wealthy man who can provide better for you than your father ever could. You shall have fine gowns and jewels. Elegant carriages and the best breed of horses. You may even dine with the King of England himself. Do you not see how lucky you are, Melisa?!” Lady Stanton said, her voice rising higher and higher in volume.
Melisa stood then, no longer afraid of her mother or the tantrums she could have at a drop of a hat. She simply took a deep breath as she crossed her arms over her chest in a very unladylike manner. “Mother, if you and Father had given me a chance, not only would I have fallen in love with a suitable gentleman, but you wouldn’t then have to worry about your reputation being tarnished when the Duke is one day found out in the bedchamber of a young lady that isn’t his wife,” Melisa said, standing up for herself.
“You insolent girl. How could you assume such things? I’m leaving now to tell your father what vile things you’ve accused of the Duke, and then you’ll be sorry,” Lady Stanton said as she stormed from the room, the door flying open as she called down the hallway for her husband as though in a panic.
Melisa took several deep breaths as she sat once more, Miss Thorsten returning to the room to finish Melisa’s hair. They didn’t speak as Melisa simply watched. And the moment she was finished, her father stepped into the room. Miss Thorsten didn’t even wait to be dismissed this time as she left father and daughter alone.
Unlike her mother, her father didn’t look that upset as he stepped towards her, holding out a small, velvet box. He gave her a small smile as Melisa wordlessly took the box and opened it, revealing a large diamond necklace with several sapphires situated in the design.
“’Tis a gift from the Duke,” Lord Stanton explained as he lifted the necklace from the box and moved around his daughter so he could fasten it to her. Melisa raised her hand to the necklace, the cool feeling of the necklace refreshing against her skin.
As her father rounded again to stand in front of her, he said, “I hope you’ll show your gratitude to His Grace this evening. And I would highly advise you to once again watch what you say around your mother.”
Melisa nodded her head as she set the valet box aside. “I will do so, Father,” she simply said as she averted her eyes from him. Most of the time she never knew what she wanted to tell her father, knowing that the man would never listen to her. At least with her mother, Melisa hoped that the woman who birthed her might show her some sympathy.
“Very good. Come down now to the carriage so we can arrive at the dance hall. I’ve watched the musicians rehearse already and feel that we’ll have the best music tonight, and that all of London will want to hire these musicians,” Lord Stanton said as he offered his arm to his daughter. She took it and allowed her father to lead her from the room and down the staircase where her mother waited for them in the foyer. But as they arrived, she turned her nose up at her daughter and stepped out of the front door as the butler, Mr Moses, held it open for them.
There were no words left to be said as Lord Stanton led his daughter to the waiting carriage. Melisa could hardly believe that this evening was finally happening, that all she dreaded was coming true even when she had tried to tarnish the Duke’s image in her parents’ eyes. But it didn’t seem that they’d ever listen to her and believe any ill thing she said about the Duke. It would take short of them catching the Duke in the act for them to ever believe her.
And now, as the carriage left their townhouse and started on its way across town to the dance hall, Melisa did her best to settle her nerves. She wanted to cry, knowing that she would soon be engaged to a man she did not love. But for appearances sake, she needed to remain calm and pleasant. No one must know how she felt, especially the Duke. She was trapped with no end or escape in sight. All she could do was act the part and pray that something would happen that would finally change her fate.
Chapter 4
Oliver had felt numb as he made his way across town, hailing a carriage that would take him to the spot where he was supposed to meet up with the other musicians. From there, they had travelled as a group to the Earl’s home to rehearse and gain the Earl’s approval before then moving to the dance hall to prepare.
“What is the matter, Oliver?” a close friend of his, Morgan, asked. Morgan was a flute player and had been performing with Oliver and this particular group of elite musicians for several years.
Oliver sighed as he regarded Morgan. He carried his flute in his hand as many musicians carried their own instruments. Oliver was lucky to always use his employer’s piano. “I was woken this morning to the news that my father had been murdered,” Oliver confessed, feeling even worse by speaking the truth out loud.
Morgan grasped him on the shoulder, completely shocked by what Oliver had just told him. “My God, man. How are you still standing? Why didn’t you stay home to grieve?” Morgan asked.
“I have to perform, Morgan, so I can pay for the funeral costs. I have to make the payment tomorrow, and with what Lord Stanton is paying us, I’ll have just enough to do so,” Oliver explained as he shrugged off his friend’s hand. He knew that Morgan meant well, but without being in this situation, it was difficult to speak to someone who was grieving.
“I cannot believe this, Oliver. I know how close you and your father were. I’m so sorry, Oliver, I truly am,” Morgan said, Oliver able to feel his honest sympathies.
“Thank you, Morgan. I am simply trying to get through this night and collect the pay so I can deal with tomorrow and so on,” Oliver said, feeling more miserable with every step he took towards the dance hall. He loathed to be near other people and longed for the quiet solitude of his empty apartment.He wanted to grieve in peace and tell the world to leave him alone.
“Well, I heard that Lord Stanton is announcing the engagement of his daughter to the Duke of Avertin tonight, and that is the reason he’s hosting this ball,” Morgan said, knowing that Oliver always loved a juicy bit of gossip, much like his father. It was sometimes the best part of working for prestigious families. The musicians always heard the most interesting things from the servants of the house.
Oliver couldn’t help snorting at the news. “But everyone knows the Duke of Avertin is a womanizer,” Oliver reasoned, having a hard time fathoming why any father would agree to marry his daughter to the man, Duke or not.
“I don’t know if the young lady’s parents know or not, but the young lady’s maid said that the young lady herself knows the truth and tried to reason with her parents, to no avail,” Morgan said, speaking softly as they walked close together.
“And how did you get to learn so much from the young lady’s maid? What were you doing while we were all rehearsing?” Oliver asked with a wicked grin on his face.
Morgan rolled his eyes as he huffed. “You know that I’m just a friendly guy, Oliver. It was nothing more than that. And you know that I can’t help a good story,” Morgan said, trying to defend himself. Oliver knew that though Morgan was a great flute player, that he preferred to write. Currently he was trying to sell one of his novels to a publisher, but it had been difficult since Morgan had no references or connections to prestigious families outside his musical ability.
“Well, when you go home to write tonight, make sure to include that bit in your story. The wanker of a father who sells his daughter’s soul to a vile Duke for a handsome fortune in return,” Oliver said as both of them laughed over the matter. They were shushed by the other musicians as they approached the dance hall and entered through the servants’ door.
Oliver had been to this dance hall several times to perform, but each time he stepped into the ballroom, he always marvelled over the space. The floor was polished to perfection, reminding him to step easily so he didn’t slip on the recent polish. The pianoforte in the room was of the best quality, and he always enjoyed playing the fine instrument. Dozens of chandeliers hung from the ceilings, the glow from the candles making the room appear as though it was noonday instead of night. Mirrors lined the one wall, making the room appear even bigger, and giving the guests the ability to see everyone in the room easier.
Such finery and elegance always impressed Oliver, making him wish that he was attending the ball as a gentleman instead of a musician. How he’d love to dance the evening away, each dance with another young lady. He’d dine with the young lady that caught his interest the most and perhaps steal a kiss from her before the night had come to an end. But before Oliver’s thoughts could run away with his mind, he forced himself to focus. After all, he would need this money to pay the funeral costs tomorrow.
Oliver and the musicians gathered around the dance floor, setting up their instruments and making sure they were perfectly tuned. Oliver sat down at the piano and folded up the cover over the keys, lightly running his fingers over them as though he was greeting an old friend tenderly. Though his body was filled with pain, and he longed to grieve alone, at least at this moment he could lose himself in the music and play the songs as though the world didn’t matter to him. Tonight, he would allow his passion for music to flow through his entire body, filling him with something other than pain. He’d dedicate this performance to his father’s memory and pray for a brighter future.
