The music sounded like a spring storm; a pounding torrent one moment before moving into a happy melody that tripped along like a thawing river and then, the first joyous notes of a songbird welcomed the awakening world. Lily had to keep herself from leaping to her feet when the song ended as she applauded; while the others gave a hearty show of their admiration, Lily thought M. Chopin deserved far more. How she detested having to wear gloves, for having her hands muted in such a fashion made it far more difficult to give what she felt was an appropriate display of gratitude; as was, she contented herself with being the last lingering clap when the others had finished. A few guests gave her sideways looks, but Lily ignored them.
The music began again, and Lily was swept away with another piece, another melody. There were times when the notes blended into a cacophony, like a powerful train of sound barreling along the tracks with abandon. Then it would shift into a delicate sound, clear and pure, filling the room with sweetness and joy. Emotion resonated through the notes—anger and sorrow, passion and joy.
More than that, there was indefinable beauty to his playing. Describing it to those unaffected was like explaining the radiant glory of a sunset to those who’d never seen one. But as the concert wore on, Lily clung to Jack’s arm and stopped fighting the emotions M. Chopin’s masterpieces elicited. She didn’t know if the music itself pulled the tears from her or if it was the knowledge that once the concert was over, it would be gone forever. Lily had heard his pieces played before, but there was no comparing them to tonight’s performance.
When the final note rang out, Lily sprung to her feet, and it was shameful how few of those in the audience did. Far too many claimed an appreciation of music but had no true understanding or love of it. The evening may have been wasted on them, but Lily was determined to show the composer how beloved his music truly was.
M. Chopin stood and took his bows, though he was unsteady on his feet; there’d been reports that he was ill, and it disturbed Lily to see the toll the concert had taken. His already pale complexion had grown ashen, and he moved as though a light breeze would knock him over.
When the applause was finished, Lily felt quite as spent as M. Chopin.
Chapter 23
With a discreet movement, Jack pressed a handkerchief into her free hand. Lily glanced at it and then to his face. His brows were drawn tight together, and Lily leaned closer to him.
“They are happy tears,” she assured him. Using it to dab at her cheeks, Lily glanced at the Byrnes on Jack’s other side.
Mrs. Byrnes smiled at her. “He plays with such passion that it is impossible not to be moved by it.”
Lily wiped at her face, though it was difficult to stem the damage she’d done. “I adore his music and was thrilled when I heard news that he was visiting England, but he scheduled no public concerts, so I did not think I would ever have the opportunity to hear him play.”
Turning her gaze to Jack, she added, “I don’t know how you got us an invite. I cannot begin to say how much this means to me.”
Jack shifted uncomfortably, looking away from her as she spoke, and though Lily wished to expound further, she sensed that Jack preferred she didn’t.
“No false modesty, Hatch. You went to great lengths to arrange this outing,” said Mr. Byrnes with a grin, but Jack leveled a hard look at the man. That only made the gentleman’s smile broaden, though Jack’s eyes narrowed.
“Leave him be, Mr. Byrnes,” Lily ordered while giving the fellow her own narrowed gaze. It may not be as intimidating as Jack’s, but she would not allow Mr. Byrnes to tease Jack in such a manner—no matter how good-naturedly.
Mr. Byrnes’s brows rose, but he gave a deferential nod. “Yes, Miss Kingsley.”
At his side, his wife held back a laugh, but it was Jack’s tiny upturn of his lips that held Lily’s attention. Threading her arm through his once more, Lily clutched his handkerchief in his other hand, for she feared that with the way the evening was progressing, it would not be the last time she needed it.
“Though I am very pleased we were invited, I fear that it was wasted on me,” said Mr. Byrnes with an apologetic smile. “M. Chopin’s work is too modern for my tastes.”
Mrs. Byrnes patted her husband on the arm and gave a put-upon sigh. “You are so unrefined.”
Lily laughed at the jest. “And you would not be alone in this crowd. I doubt many of them have heard of M. Chopin before tonight, but he is popular among the musical elite, so they must feign devotion or risk being out of fashion. I fear he has not been given his due in England.”
“Do you wish to meet him?” asked Jack, nodding at the growing group of people surrounding the composer. Jack moved that direction, but Lily stopped him.
Turning her gaze to M. Chopin, Lily watched the teeming mass of people. As much as she did wish to express her adoration for his talent, she could not bring herself to do so. The poor fellow looked weaker with each moment, and there was a hint of something in his eyes that made her think he wanted nothing more than to escape. Recalling her own performances, Lily understood that instinct. And anyone who deferred playing in larger venues with its expansive ticket sales in favor of more intimate and less lucrative settings was bound to be someone who did not care for crowds.
“I think he’d rather be left to his own devices than hear anything I might have to say,” said Lily.
“Then he’s a fool,” replied Jack.
Lily’s gaze jerked to him, but he was looking off at someone on the other side of the room. He’d spoken with the same tone as his earlier compliment, and its sentiment struck with equal force; a mere statement of fact to Jack, but Lily reveled in every syllable. She squeezed his arm, and Jack glanced at her, a question written in his eyes. That he clearly did not know how he’d pleased her only added to the charm of the moment.
“Thank you,” she said. But his brows rose higher.
“Mr. Byrnes and Mr. Hatcher, what a pleasure,” said a gentleman, stopping beside them.
“Mr. Makey,” greeted Mr. Byrnes with an affable smile. Jack turned to acknowledge the fellow, but no more; though he did not dismiss Mr. Makey entirely, there was a tightening of his muscles that made Lily wonder if he disliked the fellow.
“I wish to speak with you about one of your ventures,” said Mr. Makey. He smiled readily enough, looking to all outward appearances as congenial as Mr. Byrnes, but a tickling at the back of Lily’s neck gave her an instant distrust of the fellow.
“I’m certain you do, but you know our terms,” said Jack, his gaze turning from Mr. Makey to glance around the music room.
“And it is admirable, but I have no interest in your waterworks scheme. The railroad, on the other hand—”
Jack opened his mouth, but Mr. Byrnes spoke before Jack could.
“We appreciate your enthusiasm, but we have substantial investments for the railroad and must be circumspect in how we proceed,” said Mr. Byrnes.
Mr. Makey’s eyes narrowed. “Preposterous.”
Mrs. Byrnes released her husband’s arm and took Lily’s while saying, “Let’s take a turn about the room.”
Lily hardly had time to process the words before Mrs. Byrnes marched them away. Once out of earshot of the gentlemen, she slowed their pace.
“I do apologize, but I thought it best if we withdrew,” said Mrs. Byrnes with a grim glance back at the gentlemen. “Mr. Makey is not a pleasant fellow in the best of circumstances, and I fear the conversation would take a turn for the worse if we remained. Silas and Hatch can manage him, but Hatch would not react well if Mr. Makey’s careless tongue slighted either of us. Best not to tempt fate.”
Lily straightened at the implication. “Would it not bother your husband?”
Mrs. Byrnes gave Lily a twinkling smile. “It would, but Hatch has far less patience and a stronger protective instinct than Silas. Where my husband would approach it with discretion and care, Hatch would barrel in and eviscerate.”
With a laugh, Lily said, “Jack is not fa
miliar with subtlety.”
“And Mr. Makey is certain to be disappointed, which will not improve tempers.”
Nodding at that wisdom, Lily allowed Mrs. Byrnes to guide them along. There was no one in the company to whom Lily could claim an acquaintance, and she had no interest in approaching strangers, so it was quite the ideal situation. As Mrs. Byrnes did not steer them towards anyone, Lily guessed she felt the same.
“It is a bit odd that Mr. Makey is so set against investing in waterworks,” said Lily. “Railroads may be all the rage, but water is good investment.”
Mrs. Byrnes’s brows drew together as she glanced at Lily. “Hatcher and Silas have no plans to make it profitable. It is one of their charity projects.”
Lily came to a stop and turned to look at the lady. “What do you mean?”
“Most of their ventures are profitable enough that they can take on the occasional unprofitable one. Things that are of benefit but not financially sound,” said Mrs. Byrnes with an airy wave of her hand. “Hospitals, tenements, schools, and many others. They have enough investors clamoring for the profitable ones that they can leverage them into donating to the charitable ones, and this waterworks project will be their most ambitious yet.”
Jack had spoken of “terms” to Mr. Makey, and Lily was in no doubt of Mrs. Byrnes’s word on the subject. It was a good thing that she was still holding Jack’s handkerchief, for she felt decidedly overwhelmed by the revelation and liable to start weeping again—no matter how much she fought it.
Charity work was a part of life in the Kingsley household, and Lily had been raised with an eye towards aiding the less fortunate, but it was more than a duty. She truly enjoyed the giving, but she had neither the means nor talent to do more. No wonder Jack had thought her offerings to the foundling home so paltry, for next to the efforts Mrs. Byrnes had listed, they were.
Her mind swept back to the charity concert and saw it in a new light. The amount they’d earned was remarkable and far greater than anyone could have anticipated, and the only difference that Lily could see between that evening and those in the past was Jack’s presence. The question was whether Jack had donated the funds himself or used his position to sway the others towards generosity.
Lily suspected it was a bit of both, and her limbs felt weak, trembling as though they struggled to hold her upright. Yet her heart was so light that it did not matter. It had to be Jack’s doing. Without a word or hint of his actions, he had done what he could to make the evening a success.
“Much of London does not have sufficient access to water,” said Mrs. Byrnes. “Though waterworks companies are sprouting up to solve that issue, too many of them are unscrupulous. Silas and Jack wish to supply water without beggaring the recipients, but it is an expensive endeavor, and they will need significant investments to fund it.”
Mrs. Byrnes paused, her expression pinching as she looked at Lily. “Has Hatch not mentioned it?”
And as much as this revelation had set a simmering joy burning in her heart, that question doused it just as quickly.
“No, he has not,” said Lily. She turned away and took Mrs. Byrnes’s arm as though to continue their turn about the room, but Mrs. Byrnes stopped her. Standing before Lily, the lady waited, her eyes drifting away as she sorted through her thoughts. It was several silent moments before Mrs. Byrnes spoke.
“I would never wish to break a confidence—” she began.
“And I would not ask you to,” said Lily, but Mrs. Byrnes lifted a staying hand.
“But you need to understand that Hatch…” Her words drifted off, her brow pinching together. “I have known Hatch for over nine years, and he is as much a brother to me as he is to Silas.” She paused. “Though I suppose brother is probably not the right word for it. In many ways, he is more like a son to us. Outside of Silas and our children, he is my only family, and we are his.”
Mrs. Byrnes took a deep breath, holding it as she dropped her gaze to the ground. Another moment passed before she met Lily’s gaze again. “He was so young when he was sent out into the world, and it was not kind to him. Hatch may seem cold and aloof at times, but it is not because he feels nothing. It’s because he’s learned to protect himself. He’s had to.”
Blinking, Lily tried to keep her eyes from filling, but it was impossible to keep the emotions swelling in her heart from pouring out of her eyes.
“Oh, please don’t do that,” said Mrs. Byrnes, casting a glance at her husband and Jack.
Lily shook her head, taking in a cleansing breath. “I apologize. I cannot help but become emotional when I think of it. I cannot imagine a child having to bear such brutality.”
Mrs. Byrnes straightened, her brows rising. “He has spoken to you about it?”
“In passing. I do not think he meant to share as much as he did,” replied Lily.
Taking Lily’s hands in hers, Mrs. Byrnes smiled. “My dear, if I knew nothing else, I would dub you a miracle for that alone. I have known him for many years, and all I’ve learned about his time at sea is from my husband. Hatch is plagued with nightmares at times, and I hear him pacing the floor when he should be sleeping, but he never speaks of it to anyone.”
Blinking at Mrs. Byrnes, Lily tried to understand the lady’s meaning.
“Though it may be little, he does speak to you,” said Mrs. Byrnes, squeezing Lily’s hands tight. “You may not see the difference you have made to him, but I have seen him changing since he met you. Little things here and there, but I promise you are having a profound influence on him and making him a better man than he already is.”
Mrs. Byrnes had known Jack for nine years and still did not know him as well as she ought. If it only required patience, Lily was certain she could muster it. Deep inside, she felt that Jack was a man worth that sort of patience, but a niggling fear had her wondering if patience would be enough.
There was no questioning that Lily knew little about the gentleman. Even after several weeks in each other’s company, she had to admit that she was not much more acquainted with him than she had been when she’d burst into the Pratt’s library. There were tidbits—little snippets of information she pieced together—but too much of his mind was shrouded in darkness. And Lily wondered if she would ever come to fully know him.
“Please do not abandon him,” said Mrs. Byrnes.
Glancing over at Jack and Mr. Byrnes, Lily watched the pair speaking with Mr. Makey and others who had gathered around them. Mr. Byrnes was all congenial smiles, while Jack had the resigned expression of a child forced to sit quietly during a sermon. His blue eyes met hers, and there was a hint of a plea in them, as though he wished for her to rescue him from such drudgery.
Lily hid a smile and took Mrs. Byrnes’s arm again. “I shan’t.”
Chapter 24
Dimly aware of the swirl of dancers, Colin wove through the crowded ballroom. The Youngs took the term “crush” far too literally when it came to their parties, and Colin let loose a silent string of inappropriate words as he was bumped for the fifteenth time in the last minute; he felt like bellowing at the others to get out of his way.
“Tuck!” he called out, and after a few more tries, the gentleman turned and made his way towards Colin.
“What a crush.” Tuck sounded pleased to find it so, but Colin was heartily sick of the teeming mass.
“I believe you have the next set with Miss Aubrey.”
Tuck’s eyes narrowed, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. What of it?”
“Might I have it?” The question was hardly out before Colin wished it unspoken. Tuck was not generous and being indebted to him was unwise, but the evening was waning, and Colin could not wait for another opportunity.
Greed gleamed in Tuck’s eyes. “I would love to assist you, DeVere, of course, but if Miss Aubrey did not see fit to save you a set, then I don’t see why I should oblige you.”
Someone bumped Colin, knocking him forward, and it took considerable self-control to not shove the person a
way. The past sennight had been miserable, and his mood was souring with every moment spent speaking with this fool.
“I will give you a guinea for your troubles,” said Colin. It was the worst bargaining position to take, but he had not the slightest interest in bartering any further.
Tuck’s brows shot upwards, and he reached forward, shaking Colin’s hand. “Done.”
The coin changed hands, and Colin began the arduous journey to the edge of the dance floor.
His heart pounded in his chest, beating in time with the music as he watched Miss Aubrey twirling about in another man’s arms. Her smile was a mere shadow of its usual brilliance. Though her lips were turned upwards, it did not hold any warmth or spirit in it. But even that fled her face when her fine eyes met his. She and her partner passed by him, and with each turn and step, her gaze remained fixed on Colin.
Her eyes held the same desperation and pleading as Colin’s, though he suspected her feelings stemmed from a desire to avoid him. If he were a better man he might honor her wishes, but Colin could not let things lie. For both their happiness, he would not cry retreat.
The music came to an end, and Colin did not wait for her partner to escort her from the dance floor.
“Miss Aubrey,” said Colin with a bow.
“I am promised to Mr. Tuck for the next set, Mr. DeVere,” she replied, nudging her partner to continue past Colin.
“And he graciously offered that honor to me,” he said.
“My dances cannot be bartered about.”
Stepping closer so only she heard his whispered plea, he said, “Please, Miss Aubrey. I need to explain.”
Her partner glanced between the pair but waited for Miss Aubrey’s nod before he released her and took his leave. The instruments gave a few warning notes for the dancers to take their places, and Colin was all the more relieved to see that luck was with him for once.
The slow strains of a waltz began, and Colin stepped closer, waiting for her to step into position. Miss Aubrey gave a sigh that did nothing for his peace of mind and placed her hand on his shoulder. Taking her hand in his, he ushered them into the winding steps.
A Stolen Kiss (Victorian Love Book 1) Page 19
