by Cate Morgan
CHAPTER FIVE
“Is it worth it?” Tamsin shifted her head in the crook of Robert’s arm to look up at him. “Being so alone to focus solely on work?”
“I used to think so,” he answered. “I’ve not been so certain of late.” He squeezed her tight. “Not since you.”
They lay together on the sofa in the conservatory with the fire going just a few feet away providing the only light, propped on a few throw pillows with a light woven blanket covering them. Etta James' "A Sunday Kind of Love" played in the background, making for a cozy cocoon from the outside world. For the first time she felt safe, a feeling she knew she didn’t ever want to be without again. Somehow, unexpectedly, Robert had become her sanctuary.
Tamsin twisted her spine until she lay on her side, one ankle hooked over his with her cheek pressed to his chest. “You weren’t always so reclusive.”
“No. But I used to think focusing on work made me a better composer. Peace and quiet, no distractions. Just me and my muse.” He sighed. “I was wrong. With no one but the muse to give myself to, I lost a part of myself. I lost the part of living that makes music.”
Tamsin watched the flames dance light and shadow over his lovely, marble-pale skin. Contentment sizzled down to her toes. “It must have been nice, to have been given a choice.”
He twitched an eyebrow down at her. “What do you mean?”
“I was raised in music,” she explained. “It was wonderful, at first. Charlie was the natural virtuoso, but I never minded. Then he got sick.” She swallowed. “And Mum left.”
“My family wasn’t so musical. My grandmother gave me lessons after school to stop me banging indiscriminately on her upright. I guess it took.” He cradled the back of her neck with a warm hand. “Whatever happened to the Faerie Queen? I always wondered.”
“She was invited to all the best symphonies, all over the world. London. Paris. Then further afield. New York, Hong Kong. Amsterdam. There were calls every Sunday, post cards, money sent home. Then weeks passed. Months. After awhile, nothing.”
Robert threaded his fingers through her hair. "What do you think happened?"
Tamsin shook her head. "I couldn't say. When Charlie got bad enough to need round the clock care I stopped wondering, for the most part. I worked two jobs to help pay the bills and visited Charlie nearly day. And every time I saw him I hated her a little more. " She snuggled closer. “I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive her.”
“I was married.”
She sucked in a small breath, shock rolling through her limbs with comprehension close on its heels. It explained a great deal--Robert's initial trouble in finishing the duet, his reclusive proclivities. “Is it too private to ask what happened?”
“I want to tell you.” His thumb traced her jawline. “Jessica was a ballet dancer, terribly gifted, but not consciously so. She could blow the roof and walls from a packed theatre with the force of her joy on stage.” He chuckled in remembrance. “Naturally, I fell in love with her on the spot. Every note I wrote was for her, even before I formally met her. And she died.”
“How?”
His hand was back in her hair, running over neck. “A rainy night, a broken traffic light. A stupid, pointless accident.”
“And no music,” he added. “Until you.”
Tamsin remained quiet for a time, sorting through her emotions. Sadness for Robert's sake, concern that she, Tamsin, may not live up to such a paragon's memory, for Jessica sounded a bit like her mother in terms of talent and audience appeal. But then, she reminded herself, no one else had been able to help Robert finish his duet.
"The duet's for her, isn't it?" she guessed.
Robert's hand stilled on the back of her neck, a band of comforting heat. "At first. It was my way of saying goodbye, to close that chapter of my life. But then, thanks to you, it became something else. There’s hope in it now, where I didn't think it possible. You have given me that."
She looked up to find him smiling sweetly down on her. "You changed everything."
Tamsin would have turned those words back on him, for she felt the same way, but he kissed her in such a way that drove all thought from her mind.
“Really, Robert. Isn’t that device established yet?” Vivien lay her pencil down on her ever-present notepad in characteristic impatience.
“Nearly,” Julien answered, fiddling with Robert’s laptop. “There. That’s got it.”
Robert pulled the computer in front of him as the picture focused into a young man sitting in an intricate brace and wheelchair, his blonde hair ending in green-tipped spikes and a sunny smile on his face. His grey eyes were identical to Tamsin’s, extra-long eyelashes and all. “Mr. Hayes, I presume.”
Charlie grinned like a heathen. “Mr. Grant. So you’re the one sleeping with my sister.”
Julien choked on his water. Vivien’s face narrowed in displeasure. Robert actually felt himself blush. “Not exactly,” he managed, not quite sure how to respond. "At least not... yet?" Not that he hadn't thought about it--a lot, actually--but he wasn't certain either he or Tamsin were ready. He'd only just found her, and he wanted to savor the sweet beginning of their time together. It would be so easy to rush things.
Perhaps after Charlie's event, when they could both take their time to explore the possibilities of this...whatever "this" was, at this point. Even if his body urged him to claim her for his own.
“No need to be embarrassed.” Charlie mock-scowled. “Had you been a lesser composer, however…”
Robert decided then and there he liked Charlie Hayes. “Thank you for joining us. I hope we do your arrangements credit.”
“I’ve no doubt it will be brilliant.”
It was a long day, but a productive one. Vivien had hand-picked players from her symphony, and Julien had called in a wealth of friends and acquaintances from his own circle. And he wasn’t the only one.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Charlie drawled as a group of boot clad young men and women trooped in bearing a variety of rock T-shirts and hair colors among them, sporting the flash of more than one tattoo, “but I invited some friends of mine to drop in.”
They played with wild abandon, a joy glorious to behold. Robert watched, grinning from ear to ear, while Julien shook with repressed laughter and Vivien puckered up like an old lemon.
“You can’t be serious,” Vivien said when the day was done, removing her glasses in a weary sort of way after a pair of sisters--one a vocalist, the other wailing a driving accompaniment on a vintage electric guitar—left the stage with flushed complexions and exuberant high-fives.
Julien glanced up, and smiled. “I think you have a visitor, Robert.”
Robert turned to see Tamsin entering the theatre, violin case in hand. She smiled tentatively as he greeted her with a combination of surprise and warmth. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I thought I’d pop in to see how things were going. I hope that’s all right?”
“Of course it is.” He escorted her the rest of the way down the aisle, inordinately pleased to see her. “You know Vivien, of course. This is Julien Spencer.”
Vivien’s lips thinned, if it were possible. “Miss Hayes. Congratulations on keeping your place.”
Tamsin’s careful gray eyes cataloged her patroness’ stiff posture. “Thank you.” She turned to Robert. “How’d Charlie get on?”
“Very well indeed,” Robert replied, in perfect truth. “He’s got excellent instincts.”
“No rehearsal today, Miss Hayes?” Marguerite inquired, zeroing in on her violin case. “I would think after your close call you’d want to put your time to better use. I assure you Robert and I have the event well in hand.”
Tamsin flushed, but didn’t look away. “We’ve been released for the day. I didn’t think Robert would mind if I checked in for a few moments on the way home.”
“No, I don’t suppose you did. This is business, Miss Hayes. Perhaps you need to learn the difference between the professional and the personal.”
/>
Robert gaped. Vivien had never been what one could consider an easy woman to navigate, even by those who loved her best. But she had always been fair. Until now.
“Oh, I say,” Julien said, before he could stop himself.
Tamsin, bless her, didn’t back down. “I thought I was imagining things,” she said softly. “You sponsored me in the program. You paid for my train ticket, gave me a place to live. What’s changed?”
Vivien regarded her coolly, eyebrows arched. “I can’t think what you mean.”
Tamsin studied the older woman, eyes steady and solemn, but there was dangerous flush to her cheeks that Robert knew meant trouble. He’d been right: Tamsin would only take so much before she snapped. “It’s not that you think I’m not good enough for the symphony, is it?” she asked quietly, as Robert’s heart pounded in his chest. “It’s that you think I’m not good enough for Robert.”
“Vivien?” Robert stepped forward, shielding Tamsin. “Is this true?”
“This is supposed to be your moment in the sun after five years, Robert. Instead you’re foolishly throwing it away. Jessica’s duet played by a musician not worthy of you, of the Lady Tennant. Your event dedicated to her brother and his—at best experimental—music.” She stopped, realizing she’d gone too far, too late. It seemed Tamsin had struck a chord, and her perception had surprised Vivien out of her rigid self-control.
Tamsin stepped away from Robert, to stand openly beside him. “Do you want Robert happy? Or only happy on your terms?”
Vivien inhaled an outraged breath.
“That’s quite enough, Vivien,” Robert interjected in a low voice, before she could say anything else. “You’ve made your feelings on the matter clear.” He turned his back on her, facing Tamsin. “Will you give us a moment?”
Tamsin’s eyes retreated into wariness. The wariness cleared, and she nodded. Robert suspected she realized she may have crossed a boundary she shouldn’t have in crossing Vivien, and Robert never wanted her to feel she was endanger of losing him. He wanted to be safe for her.
Robert dug into his pocket and removed his house key from its ring. “I’ll see you at the house. We’ll order in.”
Tamsin’s expression cleared, and she managed a smile. With one last look in Vivien’s direction, she turned and left.
Robert pivoted, facing his old friend with steady eyes. “I thought she was just nervous about playing for the board. But you gave her reason to be, didn’t you?”
Vivien drew herself tall and rigid. “There is no room in the program for performers who do not play at the highest level.” And no room in Robert’s life for one either, her words implied.
“And when did you decide Tamsin wasn’t up to snuff? When you realized you had no control over whom I gave my heart?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Robert. I adored Jessica.”
“Yes, but Jess already reached the height of her potential, hadn’t she? She was already ‘worthy’ of me. But Tamsin's career is only just beginning, and she’s had her challenges.”
“She’s a talented amateur, nothing more. Not ‘up to snuff’, as you say.” Vivien squared off with him. “You have a choice, Robert. This could be your comeback, a new beginning, or you can let her drag you down."
Robert didn’t have to think about it. Nor did he hesitate. “You underestimate the both of us. Tamsin isn’t a ‘just a talented amateur,’ as you would like to believe. She’s my muse. And I would follow her anywhere she cares to go.”
“What do you think she’ll do?” Tamsin asked him, replete after a Thai food feast. She’d never had it before, and found she quite enjoyed it.
“I don’t know,” Robert admitted, slowing his hands on the keys. They’d been giving their duet a final polish. Despite the uncertainty—or perhaps prove themselves because of it—Tamsin was playing better than ever, with Robert’s help.
A week after their confrontation, and Vivien had attended no further auditions. Rehearsals were due to begin within days. Julien, who’d been spending more time with Robert in a show of support, assured them both Vivien was still diligently organizing the event from a distance, but he looked worried. Tamsin decided early on she liked having Julien around. He reminded her quite a lot of Charlie.
Who, ironically, seemed to be the only one not worried. “How do you think her reputation will hold up if it gets about she’s turning her back on a dying, genius composer? And to a woman like that, reputation is everything.”
As the weeks passed without so much as a peep out of their patroness, Tamsin began to relax, coming to believe her brother was right. But not Robert. He knew Vivien all too well.
“I won’t be without you,” he kept saying. “I won’t lose the music again.”
Tamsin felt the same. Thanks to Robert, she had found her voice, and her way. She was not about to let Vivien Hammond ruin her hard-won new life, Robert's career, or Charlie's one and only chance for recognition.
Before Tamsin knew it, Charlie’s twenty-first birthday was right around the corner and she found herself faced with another dilemma. “I need your help," she told Robert. "I want to get him a formal suit for the event, but I’ve no idea where to start.”
“May as well make a proper job of it,” Robert said cheerfully. “I’ll make a call.”
She blinked. “I appreciate the thought, but I can’t afford anything bespoke.”
He pulled her into his lap. “It’ll be from both of us.”
She curled up with a contented sigh. If nothing else, Vivien had only made it easier for her to open her heart to him--she found she was as fiercely protective of Robert as she was of Charlie. “What happens when all this is over?”
“What you do mean?”
“You came here to finish your duet. It’s finished. And we can hardly stay on Vivien's property when she’s furious with us. Every day I expect to find an eviction notice on the door.”
“I thought I might reopen my London house and you could stay with me. You, and Charlie. Would you like that?”
“It’s a lovely thought, but he needs round the clock care. And I don’t know if he’ll want to leave all that’s familiar. All his friends are in Dublin.”
“Then damn the London house. Too many memories, anyway. Dublin it is.”
Tamsin’s heart stilled. “Really?”
“We’ll make music together until we’re old and gray, all three of us.” He gave her a considering look. “Unless you’d rather travel.”
“What kind of travel?”
“You’re bound to get offers from other symphonies when they hear you play. Word will spread like wildfire. Would that be something you’d want?”
Tamsin shook her head. “Honestly, I’d prefer to play for a smaller, less…grand…symphony. Dublin, maybe, so I can spend as much time as possible as Charlie for the time he has left.” Charlie’s doctors had calculated his life expectancy to between eighteen and twenty-five. Every day he was beating the odds, even as his days were numbered. Her heart clenched like a fist every time she considered it. Part of her tried not to think about it, but all too often it was all she could think about, unless she was playing her violin.
“Then it’s settled. Vivien Hammond isn’t the only one with influence.” He tightened his hold on her. “We’ll find a way.”
Charlie rang her a few days later. “Your man’s tailor just left,” he enthused. “Is he a tailor? Maybe he’s a haberdasher. Anyway, he’s giving me an electric blue tie. I’m dying my hair to match. Nurse Ratchett’s appalled.”
Tamsin chuckled. “I’m glad you’re pleased.”
“Pleased? Me, in a Savile Row suit? I’m moving up in the world!”
“I’ve arranged to have it delivered on this birthday,” Robert told her when she'd hung up with a smile. “Are you sure he’ll be well enough to travel?”
“I couldn’t stop him even if he weren’t.” Tamsin pictured her brother, packed and ready weeks in advance, and having to unpack his toothbrush when he realiz
ed he still needed it.
Charlie’s birthday arrived. Tamsin gave Charlie time to have his breakfast before calling. She wondered if the suit had been delivered yet, grinned at the probable expression on the dour Nurse Riordan’s face as she was forced to dye his dirty blond spikes electric blue.
“I was just picking up the phone to call you,” Aunt Jane said breathlessly.
Tamsin sank into a kitchen chair, bracing herself for whatever prank Charlie had pulled this time. “What happened?” She imagined a spirited, wheelchair bound escape to the pub down the road.
“Charlie collapsed. He’s being taken to hospital now.”
