Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,63

young friend. “Is that what you would prefer, Master Braeden?”

“Oh, yes, sir. I’d love to hear you play.”

“Very well,” Mr. Thorne said.

Much relieved, Serafina smiled at her ally’s quick thinking and crawled back into her hiding spot.

Braeden risked a quick glance up toward her, his face momentarily betraying a self-satisfied grin. She couldn’t help but smile in return.

Mr. Thorne walked over to the grand piano.

“I thought you played the violin,” Mr. Bendel said.

“Lately, I’ve been tinkering a bit with the piano as well,” Mr. Thorne said quietly.

He sat down in front of the piano slowly, almost shyly, as if he was uncertain. He sat there for several long seconds while everyone waited. And then, without taking off his satin gloves, he began to play. He played a soft and enchanting sonata with the grace of a virtuoso. The piece he had selected was not too sad, and not too happy, but was lovely in its own way, and it seemed to bring everyone together in mood and spirit. Serafina marveled at how music seemed to have an almost magical ability to unite the emotions of the people in a room. Everyone seemed to truly love and appreciate Mr. Thorne’s playing except Mr. and Mrs. Brahms, who seemed to grow sadder with every note he played. Mrs. Brahms began to sob and pulled out her handkerchief, and then her apologetic husband had to take her away. The other guests continued to listen to Mr. Thorne’s music as he finished the sonata.

“Thank you, Mr. Thorne,” Mrs. Vanderbilt said, trying to stay positive. She looked around at everyone. “Why don’t we all see if we can have a little bite to eat and something to drink?”

Braeden approached Mr. Thorne shyly. “You play wonderfully, sir.”

“Thank you, Braeden,” Mr. Thorne said with a small smile. “I appreciate it. I know you are a young man of discerning taste.”

“A few weeks ago, when you first arrived at Biltmore, you told us a delightful story about the boy with three wishes.”

“Yes?” Mr. Thorne looked at him.

“Do you have any others?” Braeden asked, looking around at the red-haired girl in the blue dress and the other children. “Could you tell us another story?”

Mr. Thorne paused and looked at Mrs. Vanderbilt, who nodded in agreement, looking proud of her nephew for his consideration of the others. “I think that would be wonderful if you could, Mr. Thorne. We’d all enjoy it.”

“Then I shall endeavor to try,” Mr. Thorne agreed, nodding. He slowly waved his arm to the children. “Let’s all gather around the hearth.”

As Braeden and the other children sat in the glowing light of the fire, Mr. Thorne lowered his voice into a dramatic tone and began to tell a story.

Watching and listening from the organ loft, Serafina could see that the children were leaning forward, following the story intently. Mr. Thorne’s voice was soft at times, and then booming with force at other times. She found herself longing to gather around and listen with the other children. Her heart ached to be a part of the world he depicted—a place where all the boys and girls had mommas and papas and brothers and sisters. A place where the children played together in bright fields, and when they got tired, lay about in the shade of a giant tree on top of a hill. Serafina wanted to be in that world. She wanted to live that life. The story made her long to see her momma and hear her voice. And when the story was done, she thought Mr. Thorne must be one of the most magnificent storytellers she had ever heard.

Mrs. Vanderbilt watched Braeden sitting among the other children and looking up at Mr. Thorne. There was a contented look on her face. Braeden was finally making friends.

Serafina studied Mr. Thorne. There was no denying that he had warmed her heart. She’d loved his music and his story. And he had brought a sense of community and togetherness to the sad gathering for a little while. Braeden and Mr. Bendel were right—he was a man of many talents.

Afterward, as the gathering was breaking up, Mrs. Vanderbilt approached Mr. Thorne and gently embraced him. “Thank you, sir, for all you’ve been doing for us. I especially appreciate the way you’ve befriended Braeden. He thinks the world of you.”

“I just wish I could do more,” Mr. Thorne said. “These are such difficult times for everyone.”

“You’re a good man, Montgomery,” said Mr. Vanderbilt as he walked up and shook Mr.