she wasn’t in the room. ‘I spent a good deal of time at the British Museum and, by the time I left, I had sketched nearly the entire contents of the Egyptian wing and made a decent start on ancient Greece.’
The comment was clearly unexpected and the resultant look of surprise on Lady Widdicombe’s face prompted Aunt Dorothy to say, ‘Emma is quite gifted when it comes to drawing, Lady Widdicombe. Her sketches of the Elgin Marbles were really quite astonishing.’
‘Indeed.’ Lady Widdicombe turned her attention to Linette, obviously finding Emma’s achievements less than noteworthy. ‘Miss Linette, are you able to play the pianoforte?’
‘I am, Lady Widdicombe.’
‘Then pray be good enough to entertain us.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Linette quickly got up and moved to the instrument. ‘Oh! A Broadwood grand piano.’
‘Yes. Peter had it brought down from London.’ Pride resonated in the countess’s voice. ‘He plays exquisitely.’
Linette ran her fingers lightly over the keys, picking out a simple tune. ‘What a lovely sound. Emma, you must come and turn the pages for me.’
Dutifully, Emma got up and joined her sister.
‘What shall I play?’ Linette whispered. ‘I am so nervous.’
‘You have nothing to be nervous about.’ Emma calmly flipped through the sheets of music on the platform and pulled one out. ‘You play beautifully and your voice is that of an angel. And here is one of your favourite pieces.’
‘“Greensleeves,”’ Linette said, relieved. ‘Yes, I shall be able to do justice to that.’
She began to play and though Emma dutifully watched her progress so as not to miss turning the page at the appropriate time, she did risk an occasional glance at Lady Widdicombe to see if she was enjoying the performance. She hadn’t missed the ambivalence in the countess’s attitude towards Linette. While she wasn’t precisely hostile, neither was she warmly welcoming. Fortunately, she seemed to appreciate Linette’s skill on the pianoforte. She actually closed her eyes once or twice during the performance and was gracious in showing her appreciation at the end.
‘Very nice, Miss Linette. You play tolerably well and have a very pleasant singing voice.’
‘Thank you, Lady Widdicombe.’
‘Of course, both would be improved by regular practice. I would advise you to take the required time during each day to do so.’
‘Yes, Lady Widdicombe.’
‘And now, it is Miss Darling’s turn to entertain us,’ the countess said. ‘Unless she feels it will be too embarrassing for her.’
Emma smiled. Had Lady Widdicombe not tossed in that last line, she might have gracefully demurred. But never one to back away from a challenge, she sat down on the bench recently vacated by her sister and said, ‘I do have one or two tolerable pieces in my repertoire. I simply shall not sing for that would be most humbling after Linette’s performance. And I doubt that would be improved if I were to practise every hour of every day from now until I died.’
Lady Widdicombe said nothing, allowing Emma a brief moment of victory. The countess might be able to tell Linette what she should and should not do, but she certainly wasn’t going to exert the same influence over her. One had to draw the line somewhere.
It would have been a great deal better, Emma reflected later, had she been the first to perform and Linette the second. Because by the time Linette had taken Emma’s vacant seat next to Aunt Dorothy and Emma was ready to play, the door opened again and the gentlemen walked in. And it became immediately evident that no one had been expecting to see her seated at the pianoforte. Emma saw a look of startled pleasure on her father’s face and a slightly more cautious one on Mr Taylor’s.
Lord Stewart’s expression was unreadable. Nor could she glean anything from the tone of his voice, when, moving to stand beside the fireplace, he said, ‘I did not expect you to honour us with a performance, Miss Darling.’
‘I did not say I was unable to play, my lord,’ Emma said evenly. ‘Only that I do not play as well as I paint. Nor do I sing as well as my sister, whose performance you just missed.’
‘Then I hope we may prevail upon Miss Linette to sing for us again. But we should regret not hearing you play first.’
Equally sure he wouldn’t have cared had she left immediately after dinner, Emma turned her attention back to the piano. Normally, she would have quailed at having to perform in front of such dignified company, but having recently discovered a piece by Bach that she liked very much, and having spent more time than usual practising it while at Aunt Augusta’s house, Emma had managed to imprint the score firmly in her mind. Now, after giving herself a few minutes to recall the intricate opening, she placed her fingers upon the keys and began to play.
Music rolled forth. Not sweet and sentimental like Linette’s ‘Greensleeves,’ but strong and powerful, the melody filling the room. It was one of passion and unrequited love, and on the exquisite instrument the notes rang true and clear. For once, Emma forgot about her audience and lost herself in the music. She had never performed on such a marvellous instrument before and she was astonished at how well the piece sounded. As she brought her hands down on the final chords, her heart was beating hard, her exhilaration at having executed the complicated piece without a mistake bringing an unexpected glow of triumph to her cheeks.
There was a moment’s stunned silence. Then, enthusiastic applause broke out as Emma rose to take her bows. She saw a variety of expressions on the faces turned towards her. On her father’s, pride, pure and simple. On her aunt’s, pride mingled with relief, and on Linette’s, astonished admiration. Peter Taylor’s mouth was open and Lady Widdicombe was staring at her in disbelief.
Only Lord Stewart’s expression bore no indication of surprise. ‘You did not tell us the truth of your ability, Miss Darling. Seldom have I heard that piece played better or with more emotion.’
‘Indeed, I believe you were having sport with us, Miss Darling,’ Peter said. ‘I vow she would give Lady Glynnis a run for her money. What say you, Alex?’
‘I’d say Miss Darling could hold her own with anyone,’ he answered evenly. ‘Well done, Miss Darling.’
‘Indeed, Emma, well done!’ Linette said with unconcealed joy.
Emma politely inclined her head, grateful for the praise, but more relieved that she hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of everyone in the room. She’d told herself when she’d sat down at the piano that she had wanted to make a good showing for Linette’s sake and that she hadn’t played the piece to impress anyone, but that wasn’t entirely true.
She had wanted to make a good impression. She had wanted to impress him.
‘Thank you, but it is one of the few pieces I play well,’ she said. ‘As indicated earlier, my repertoire is extremely limited.’
‘If you were only to play that one piece, you would find yourself welcome in any drawing room,’ Lord Stewart said.
The subtle words of praise had Emma raising her eyes to his; something she immediately came to regret. She didn’t
