The Lady Tennant

by Cate Morgan

CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tamsin exited the chauffeured town car, her eyes wide as she took in the dazzling teems of people flowing into the theatre. Her family bickered and fussed as they piled out behind her, but she only had eyes for the display before her. Her heart pounded in her aching chest, knowing Robert was so close.

  She circled the curtains of water dancing in a fountain, caught her breath at the banner swathed across the front of the theatre. It welcomed guests to the First Annual Fund Raiser for the Charlie Hayes Foundation. Her hand covered her mouth as tears stung her eyes, making her vision swim.

  Leave it to Robert to beat Vivien at her own game. She was proud enough for her feet to leave the pavement.

  Robert chose that moment to appear on the front steps, dashing and broody as he searched for her. His brow cleared when he saw her, and he hurried on long legs to meet them. “You made it,” he breathed, stopping short of catching her up into his arms. His eyes drank her in, but somehow managed to fill her instead. The emptiness in her began to recede at last.

  “Charlie would have laughed himself silly. I love it.”

  “Tommy?” The uncertain voice behind her belonged to Aunt Jane, who cleared her throat. “This is your young man, is it?”

  Tall, elegant, gorgeous—yes, she could understand why Jane sounded a bit strangled.

  Robert grinned, and turned to her rapt family. “Yes, I’m Tamsin’s. I’m very glad to meet you all.”

  Inside, he settled them into their seats personally. Then he pulled Tamsin backstage. “Vivien’s not here yet, but she will be.” He gazed down at her, hands on her shoulders. “We’ve got you playing Charlie’s Scheherazade to close the first half. We’ll finish the second with our duet.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “For all of this. But I don’t understand how you managed to circumvent Vivien.”

  “I’ll fill you in later, I promise. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.” He ran his hands down her bare arms. “I’d kiss you for luck, but I wouldn’t stop there and I don’t want to destroy how lovely you look.” The lights flashed the five minute warning. “And it’s time to take our places.”

  Still, she held tight to his hand until Julien bounced out onstage to introduce him. Robert lifted her hand to his lips for good luck before striding out to a flood of applause and flashing lights. Tamsin drank in the sight of him taking his imperious place at the conductor’s podium, the entire house going silent as he took up his baton. Anticipation buzzed along her skin, giving her goose bumps.

  Then the baton swept down, and music filled the auditorium.

  Watching Robert conduct was something of a revelation. He was beautiful in his quick grace, stunning as any dancer. And the orchestra adored him as much as the audience, with his fierce scowl of concentration, his commands driving them to their best. The theatre was his empire, one he ruled with power and benevolence.

  Act after act went out, and did such justice to Charlie’s music tears constantly burned in Tamsin’s eyes, trailing unheeded down her face. She kept her eyes closed, listening, feeling her brother live again in every measure.

  “He loves you, you know.” Julien slipped an arm about her waist, as she smiled up at him. “More than anything in the world.”

  “I know.”

  “Good.” He removed his pocket square from his breast pocket and dabbed gently at her face. “Here now, none of that. And don’t mind Vivien. You’ve won, and she’ll know it by the end of the night, if she doesn’t already.”

  “Robert really invited her?”

  Julien replaced his pocket square with a grin. “He felt it was only fitting. Whoops, that’s me.” He gave her temple a brotherly kiss and bounded out into the spotlight once more as though he’d been born there.

  The last number of the first act was Charlie’s Scheherazade. Tamsin walked out with her violin and bow clutched in either hand, the open space causing cool air to brush against her bare legs and arms. No one had introduced her, so the audience sat silent, waiting with intent curiosity.

  She saw her family first, smiling and waving. Aunt Jane practically bounced in her seat, while her mother wept quietly into a tissue. The force of Aunt Mary’s pride dared anyone and everyone to so much as blink during her niece’s performance.

  Then she saw Vivien, sitting with the rest of the Board, including Dr. Samuels. Vivien’s brow lifted in private challenge, smile smug.

  Of course she knew all of Tamsin’s weaknesses as a performer. Of course she knew Charlie’s arrangement.

  But then Tamsin’s gaze shifted to Robert, whose own smile filled her with glorious light. He winked at her, turned, and lifted his baton once more. He led the orchestra into the piece, hands swaying like birds floating on an updraft with wings outstretched.

  Forget them, she remembered him saying. Play for me.

  She didn’t close her eyes this time, as she lifted her violin, and her bow. Then she looked Vivien square in the eye and she played. For Robert, and for Charlie.

  “It seems I must congratulate you once again.”

  Tamsin turned from replacing her violin in its case, her hands still shaking. It had been one of the most difficult things she’d had to do, but she’d done it. She’d never played better.

  Vivien stood a few feet away—uninvited, unwanted—but backstage nonetheless. As if she belonged there.

  “I can’t really blame him, I suppose,” Vivien continued, almost to herself. “Once he gets something—or someone—in his blood, he becomes a man possessed. It was the same with Jessica.”

  Tamsin saw her watching for a reaction. It was such a pathetic attempt she almost felt sorry for the older woman. Almost. “You expect jealousy? He clearly loved her deeply, and everyone should be so loved at least once in their lives.” She turned away to shut her case with a firm pair of snaps. “The fact that he loves me is as great a gift as I have ever had. I feel privilege, not envy.”

  An assessing silence greeted her, drawn out to the point of breaking. “I still hold such music is…shall we just call it an acquired taste? But it seems to be popular enough, tonight at least. I can concede it has potential.”

  Tamsin turned once more with a smile, folding her hands before her. “It would be a strange and boring world, if nothing ever changed.”

  “So it would. May I offer my sympathies regarding your brother? It is always distressing to learn of the unexpected death of such a talented young musician.”

  Tamsin should have hated her for that remark. Instead she just pitied her. “It was a shock, yes. But not unexpected. We lived with the knowledge every day, and so every day was precious because of it. I learned that from Charlie, the best musician I know. I also learned that I’m through wasting time, and so has. . . Robert.”

  Robert strode past Vivien with his hands in his pockets, bending to give Tamsin a careful kiss. “You played beautifully.”

  “Thank you,” she said, a wealth of meaning in those two simple words. “Vivien was just offering her congratulations.”

  Robert slid his hand into hers, giving Vivien the full benefit of cool eyes. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Vivien made one final, desperate gambit. “I take you’re speaking of your duet? Or is it the auction to which you refer?”

  “Auction?” Tamsin looked up into Robert’s marble expression.

  Triumph filled the other woman’s smile. “Didn’t Robert tell you? He’s auctioning off Lady Tennant—with my permission, of course.”

  Tamsin squeezed his hand, drawing his attention to her. “That’s how you got everyone here? The fundraiser is an auction? Robert, it’s a named Strad!”

  His expression softened. “It’s a thing, nothing more. This foundation is my gift to you, and frankly it requires a monstrous amount of capital.” He forestalled her next protest. “And worth every penny.”

  Tamsin felt her entire world shift. “Why, Vivien?”

  “Robert tells me you’ve persuaded your mother from retirement. The return of Moir
a Hayes to the stage is a fair trade for the instrument.”Vivien's victory was incandescent in every line of her—expression, posture, the stillness of her hands and the delighted glint in her eyes. “I’ve always contended the Lady needed a worthy musician.”

  “And so she does.” He grinned down at Tamsin.

  So that was how he’d gotten Vivien to relent, to let Charlie’s event go forward after all. Tamsin barreled into his arms. “You magnificent, glorious man,” she whispered, hardly able to bear the weight of such a gift.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he growled in her ear. “I have another surprise for you. One even Vivien can’t ruin.”

  Tamsin disentangled herself from him, having forgotten all about her former patron.

  She was gone.

  “Robert,” Tamsin said urgently, voice hushed. “there’s just one problem. My mother can no longer play—arthritis--”

  “It’s all right,” he assured her. “Surprise, remember?”

  The performance ended with Julien’s introduction of Robert at the piano, surprising and delighting everyone with the thought of his first performance in five years, and with a new piece besides. People who weren’t there would later dine out for a month on the story by swearing they were.

  Robert explained, in his quiet, earnest way, how he had come to know and respect Charlie Hayes, son of the remarkable Faerie Queen. Julien appeared from the opposite wing, carrying a violin case in his palms as though it were the Holy Grail.

  Tamsin went still with sudden, stunning realization.

  He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  He did.

  Robert strode to retrieve her, pulling her onstage to a round of enthusiastic applause. Julien opened the case and lifted Lady Tennant from her rest, holding it aloft for all to see. Then he settled her in Tamsin’s trembling hands.

  “It’s too much,” she whispered for Robert’s ears alone.

  “Every violinist should play a Strad once in their lives. And every Strad deserves the right player.” He smiled. “Go on. She’s ready for you.” He drew her into the spotlight, where there was no escape. Where it was only the two of them, in a theatre gone breathless.

  Robert settled himself at the piano, smiling confidently at her.

  She didn’t close her eyes this time, either. Instead she kept them firmly on Robert, and his gaze never left her. She raised the bow, feeling that if she held on too tight the instrument would shatter to kindling in her hands.

  The feeling evaporated at the first note she drew across the strings. There were no words to describe the feeling, the sound of that one, single note that filled the entire house with its inherent joy. Or the note that came after, or the one after that. Exquisite came close. So exquisite it tore her heart open and mended it again between one measure and the next. It begged—no, demanded—extemporization. Written music was meant for ordinary violins, not for the Lady.

  The audience, the theatre, shrank away. All that remained were Tamsin and Robert and Lady Tennant, all playing for one another, striving in the give and take of emotion only music could adequately express.

  The piano music stopped. Robert gave her an encouraging nod and her eyes drifted closed. And then it was just her and the Lady in a dark void with astounding acoustics as she dug in, following where the music led. Together, she and the Lady danced.

  It ended, with one last, keening note that echoed to the flies.

  The world crashed in on her, and her eyes flew open. The audience surged to its feet in an ocean’s roar. Tamsin stared at Robert.

  He strode to her side to take her hand and raise it. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, forcing them to settle so they could hear him. “Ladies and gentlemen. I give you the Faerie Princess.”

  The surge became a tidal wave.

  EPILOGUE