even made a key change halfway through without stumbling. The guests had not stopped their conversations, but there was a smattering of applause nevertheless when she had finished.
“Let me see your hands,” Gabriel said, leaning slightly over the keyboard. She spread her fingers and turned her hands palms up while she looked inquiringly at him. “I see four fingers and one thumb on your left hand and four and one on your right. Your music teacher was cruel. And quite wrong.”
“I was ten years old,” she said. “And he actually did me a favor. I was so furious with him and with my governess and with Avery that I was determined to show them how wrong they were. After that I practiced twice as long as I was required to instead of half as much, as I had been doing. I wanted all three of them to eat their words.”
“And did they?” he asked.
“Not to my knowledge,” she said. “But I did learn to play well enough not to make an utter cake of myself in company. You have not chosen your music, Mr. Thorne. I shall not let you escape, you see, after you’ve admitted to being able to play.” She got to her feet, folded her sheet of music, and set it on top of the pile.
“My music is here,” he told her, tapping a finger against his temple. Though that was not strictly true. He had to think, yes, in order to bring a tune to mind, but the music was not in his mind. And when he sat at the pianoforte, he had to rid his mind even of the tune so that it would not interfere with his fingers as they played. He did not know where the music itself came from after that. He did not know how his fingers hit the right notes or how they knew what other notes to play in order to create the full melody and the accompaniment. It all came from some unknown somewhere inside him, yet it seemed too vast to fit within his frame. It was a good thing he had never tried to describe the process to anyone.
“You have memorized it?” she asked as he sat on the bench and arranged the tails of his coat behind him. “That is impressive.”
He very rarely played in company, and when he did, it was usually merely to entertain. Fortunately there was a hum of sound as people continued their conversations. This corner of the room actually seemed like an oasis of quiet. Of which Lady Jessica Archer was a part.
He gazed at the keyboard, not quite seeing it. He listened to the melody of Bach’s “Jesus bleibet meine Freude”—Jesus shall remain my joy—in his head. Then he set his fingers on the keys, let them find the ones he wanted, emptied his mind, and played. Perhaps, he thought for the first few moments, he ought to have chosen something lighter, something simpler, something more obviously entertaining. He was very aware of Lady Jessica standing beside the bench, watching his fingers.
And then the music took possession of him. He closed his eyes, tipped back his head, frowning, as the main melody, stately and dignified, asserted itself through his left hand while his right hand after the first introductory moments continued with the ripple of joyful accompaniment. It was a soul-wrenching contrast, part of his mind thought, between deep emotion and exuberant joy. He had heard it played on the organ in the church at Brierley when he was a boy, and the music had been a part of him ever since.
His eyes were closed again as he finished and listened to the echo of the final notes receding to wherever the music lived when it was not being played. He was not aware of the silence in the room until it was shattered with applause.
“That was exquisite.”
“I say. Bravo, Thorne.”
“How absolutely lovely.”
“What was that?”
“You really ought to be on a concert stage, Mr. Thorne.”
“Beautiful.”
“Oh, do play again.”
A number of voices spoke at once.
“Well,” Lady Jessica said after a rather lengthy pause. “I am very glad I went first. Wherever did you learn to play like that?”
“I did not,” he said.
“You are self-taught?” She opened her fan and plied it before her face.
“I do not read music,” he told her.
This was a party, a soiree, not a concert. He felt embarrassed and was very glad to see that conversations were resuming and servants were circulating with trays of drinks