The piano in the Partridgesʼ library was an entirely different caliber than the one at elementary school. It was a fine grand piano of an excellent brand. Henry guessed that it was probably just as costly as the broken vase. It looked new and polished, just as if nobody had ever used it since its acquisition.
Henry suddenly felt the urge to sit down and play and wondered if he should dare. It was late at night and he thought that if anyone heard him, they surely would doubt his sanity. But the effect of the sweet wine had made him somewhat careless, and with a secretive smile on his lips he sat down on the bench and carefully opened the fallboard which covered the keys.
He randomly let his fingers slide over the length of the keyboard when suddenly a melody, a lovely slow ballad, came into his mind. He started to hum it quietly, closed his eyes and kept playing, letting the notes fill the air, and forgetting time and space.
* * *
Sarah couldnʼt sleep. She was tossing and turning in her bed as her mind kept wandering back to the moment when the vase had fallen off the pedestal.
It truly had not been her intention to break it, and she felt more than miserable about it. Even though she didnʼt like Priscilla very much, she would not maliciously and wilfully destroy the things her aunt cherished the most.
Then she thought about the next day and tried in vain to come to terms with the fact that she would be spending two days with Damian and her family at some boring seaside resort.
As she could see that there was no point in trying to find any sleep, Sarah climbed out of bed and opened the window, hoping that letting in some cool air would finally make her tired and distract her from her brooding. But the air wasnʼt cool at all and turned out to be quite muggy.
At least that stupid owl has gone, she thought. The bird had been sitting on a branch of one of the nearby trees for months, crying all night long. Recently, however, it had been surprisingly quiet; ever since she had thrown a shoe out of the window and in the owlʼs direction, in an attempt to chase it away. Sarah guessed that the owl had now found a tree in front of the window of some other unfortunate whose sleep it could rob.
But then Sarah suddenly became aware of something else. For a moment she thought it was just her imagination playing tricks on her, but then she clearly heard it: the sound of someone playing the piano in the library. The piano had not been used for ages, ever since Horatio and Priscilla had finally given up forcing her to take lessons against her will.
Driven by curiosity, Sarah quickly closed the window, put on her cardigan, took a candle, and slipped out of her room. She tiptoed along the corridor, careful not to wake her aunt and uncle, then she sneaked down the staircase until she found herself on the ground floor in front of the door to the library where the music was coming from.
Then, she carefully pushed the door open.
* * *
This tune should be dedicated to someone, Henry thought, waiting for some kind of inspiration.
To a girl.
He sniggered when the only name that spontaneously came to his blurred mind was Sarah.
Sarahʼs Dream… Thatʼs it. Thatʼs the title: Sarahʼs Dream…
Lost in thoughts, he continued playing when his glance suddenly fell on someone hovering in the doorway, watching him quietly.
It was Sarah.
Startled, Henry stopped playing.
“I... I am sorry if I disturbed you in your sleep,” he stammered, smiling apologetically. “I should have asked for permission before using the piano... and stealing the wine.”
Sarah didnʼt seem to care about the wine. Her eyes were riveted to Henry and his fingers on the keys. Again, Henry desperately tried to decipher the expression on the girlʼs face; in vain. But one thing he knew for sure: She wasnʼt angry. Instead, she appeared relaxed and rather friendly.
But he didnʼt have much time to analyse her moods. He was far too busy taking in her looks. Her long, brown hair flowed down over her shoulders, and she wore a thin, linen nightgown but no shoes. She also wore a cardigan, which she wrapped a little bit closer around her body when she became aware of Henryʼs intensive stares.
Henry blushed and forced himself to tear his eyes away from her enticing sight, wondering how it was possible that the girl looked like the devil one moment and like an angel the next.
“Would you mind playing that again?” he suddenly heard Sarah say, her voice unexpectedly soft.
She is just teasing me again, Henry thought warily. But deep in his heart he knew that this time she wasnʼt teasing him.
He took a deep breath and nervously wiped his hands, which had become rather sweaty all of a sudden, on his trousers. He felt terribly nervous at the thought of performing in front of an audience, even if it was only a small one. It was, however, a very distracting one.
Still, he began to play the melody again just as Sarah had asked him to. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how the girl casually strolled in his direction, taking a detour along the bookshelves and tracing the covers of the books with her index finger as if she was reading their titles—a diversionary tactic which Henry considered as pretty easy to see through but amusing nevertheless.
Then she wandered past his back and hesitantly lowered herself next to him on the bench where she sat stiffly, quietly listening to the music, not breathing a word.
Henry hit several wrong keys. Sarah staring at his fingers made him nervous. Her smell made him nervous; this sensual fragrant of something sweet which he believed to be vanilla.
Eventually, the song came to an end. Henry had no recollection of how long he had been playing. Somehow he was relieved that it was over, because he had made an awful lot of mistakes. On the other hand, it wasnʼt a relief, because he would have to fill the now existing silence with words instead of music; and he didnʼt know at all what to say to Sarah. With her sitting so close to him, he was afraid that only utter nonsense would come out of his mouth and that he would make a terrible fool out of himself.
“Why did you do it?” Sarah suddenly whispered, her voice as sweet as her scent.
Surprised by the girlʼs unexpected willingness to talk, Henry looked up.
“I... I simply couldnʼt sleep and felt like... having a drink... or two,” he croaked.
“That is not what I mean,” Sarah said.
“What do you mean then?”
Sarah let her fingers slide over the surface of the keys without really touching them.
“I mean...why did you lie for me today when I broke the vase?”
Henry felt numb, like in a dream, as if someone had wiped out all of his memories. He could hardly remember what Sarah was talking about when she mentioned the vase, even though this incident had been memorable enough.
He called himself a fool. Within the past days he had spent a considerable amount of time with Sarah. Why should he feel awkward in her presence now? But then again, the current situation was an entirely different one compared to all encounters he had had with Sarah before. First of all, during lesson they were usually separated by two desks, whereas right now Sarah was sitting only a few inches far from him. Secondly, Sarah didnʼt speak when they were together in the classroom, and now she talked to him with a mesmerizing voice which stood in no relation to the screaming wild brat that she normally tended to be.
The third and final reason for Henry to gradually lose his composure was that Sarah wore a frighteningly small amount of clothes. And she bore no resemblance to the buttoned-up, obstinate little school girl. No, this was Sarah, the highly attractive, charming, and scantily dressed young woman who threatened to completely turn his head.
Henry grabbed his glass of wine. He desperately needed a sip before dealing with that lovely little creature that almost appeared translucent like a ghost in the soft glow of the candles and the light of the moon which fell through the curtains.
When he finally looked at her, his glance inevitably slipped over the outline of her small breasts underneath the nightgown. Henry quickly look
ed away again and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. This was far too much to cope with after such an exciting day. He definitely needed some sleep now. And he needed to keep his fingers off the wine before it made him do things which he would surely regret later.
“You have not answered my question,” Sarah said.
Henry cleared his throat.
“I lied because...” he began, “well... I believe that it was not your real intention to break the vase. And apart from that, it was partially my fault too, as I should not have held you back from going upstairs to your room. But most of all, I saw it as a chance to prove that I do not want anyone to hurt you. Does that answer your question?”
Sarah nodded quietly.
Somehow Henry sensed that she was at her most vulnerable right now. Having dropped her protective shield of anger and aggression, she now turned out to be a completely different Sarah compared to the one he had spent the past days with. He wished she would remain like that forever. He also wished she would allow him to touch her.
“I can play the piano too, you know,” Sarah suddenly said.
A little smiled crossed her lips; only a faint one but still a very endearing one, which left Henry completely spellbound.
“Really?” he answered, unable to take his eyes off the girlʼs sweet mouth.
Sarah didnʼt notice the way he was gawping at her.
“I only know one simple tune, though,” she said, placing her hands on the keys of the piano.
“I would love to hear it,” Henry said, sounding more seductive than intended.
The next moment, Sarah began to play a standard piece of which Henry knew that one learned it in the very beginnings of taking piano lessons. He found that she actually did quite well apart from hitting a wrong key every now and then. But she obviously didnʼt mind. On the contrary; it seemed to rather amuse her as she began to laugh merrily whenever it happened.
And what a wonderful laughter it was.
Oh good Lord, donʼt do this to me... not her... not now... Henry thought, desperately trying not to entirely succumb to Sarahʼs charms.
The wine, it is just the wine... he reassured himself. Yes, he was certain that everything would be different the next day. After having had a good nightʼs sleep, the whole situation which he encountered himself in right now would be nothing but a mere memory, gradually fading; he would soon be back to his senses and go about his daily activities as usual. Maybe he would spend some more time in the house of the Partridges before finally heading for America. Yes, he now knew exactly what he wanted, and there was definitely no place for Sarah and any foolish feelings for her.
“I am not really good at playing the piano at all. This particular passage...” Sarah played a particular sequence of tunes and hit the wrong key again, just as she had done before. “You see, I never get this right.”
Henry looked at her fingers. Slender fingers. Perfectly trimmed fingernails. A skin as soft as a peach.
He couldnʼt resist.
He slowly reached out for her hand which was still resting on the keys.
“May I?” he asked politely.
Sarah appeared puzzled. Still, she nodded.
Then Henry gently took her middle finger which lay on one of the white keys and carefully positioned it on one of the black keys right next to it. A shiver ran through his body when he realized that her skin felt just as soft as he had imagined. Carefully, he pressed her finger down.
“Cis, you see?” he whispered. “Not C. That is the reason why it sounds wrong.”
The sound that the key had made gradually ebbed off, leaving Henry and Sarah in complete silence. It was so utterly quiet that Henry even believed to hear her breathe; and her breathing appeared a little bit too fast for a human being in a state of complete calmness. This was rather the breathing of someone whose equilibrium had got entirely out of balance. Just like his own.
Henry slowly let his fingers slip off Sarahʼs hand. He was savoring the moment which, as he knew, would be over far too soon. He wasnʼt sure if she too felt that the air was vibrating between them. He definitely felt it. At least, Sarah appeared confused and insecure. She withdrew her hand quickly, grabbed a fringe of her hair and played with it, twirled it frantically between her finger and thumb. She lowered her gaze, but still Henry could see that her cheeks were almost as red as the roses in the garden.
With a satisfactory grin, Henry noticed that his approach obviously had not left her cold. He hoped that it wasnʼt all too easy for her to see that he was nervous, too. In fact, he was so nervous that he secretly hoped for something to happen that would take them both out of this awkward situation. And it seemed that Sarah longed for the same.
The sudden creaking sound of a door made Sarah jump up from her seat.
“Someone is coming—I have to go!” she exclaimed anxiously. “They must not see me here at this time of the night...!”
Henry knew that what she really meant to say was, ʻThey must not see me here at this time of the night with you.ʼ
Henry sighed, feeling equally relieved and disappointed. But he knew there was nothing else he could do than be grateful for having had this sweet experience even if it was over now.
Wistfully, he looked after Sarah as she left. Then, as if Sarah had sensed his piercing gaze and his longing for a final word before they parted, she came to a halt, turned around and quickly strode back towards him. As she stood in front of him, she suddenly placed her hand on his left shoulder, bent down and ever so quickly planted a tiny kiss onto his cheek.
“I apologize for having given you a fright with the horse the other day...” she breathed. Strands of her hair brushed his face. Little sweet clouds of vanilla filled his nose.
“Never mind...” Henry whispered in a daze, his eyes glued to her lips.
Before he realized what had happened, her hand let go of his shoulder and she was gone in a rush, leaving him behind with his skin burning from her kiss and his heart burning with desire.
Chapter 4 – Damian
“Your wake-up call, Mr. Abbott...”
Quite contrary to the previous mornings when Roderick had entered Henryʼs room, had walked over to the bed and had gently tugged at the bedsheet to check if Henry was really awake, the butler didnʼt even bother to open the door this time. He just knocked and then disappeared again. Henry assumed that Roderick was in a rush because of all the preparations accompanying the imminent arrival of Damian Cox.
Henry didnʼt want to get up.
He nestled his head into the pillow, sighing pleasurably.
Sarah…
He had dreamed of her all night. She had only worn a linen nightgown and a cardigan. Her long chestnut curls had flown over her shoulders. She had smelt of vanilla. She had kissed his cheek.
She had entirely turned his head.
What a dream... Henry thought.
Just that it had not been a dream. He only figured that out when the first glimpses of sunlight hit his face and gradually brought him out of his daze.
He pondered why on earth he had to fall for the charms of this brat of a girl whose mere intention it was to make everybodyʼs life miserable, including his own.
Thinking back, however, Henry found that Sarah had not really been that mean to him—except on the day when she had almost attacked him with the horse. But for that she had apologized by kissing him. And it had sounded—and felt—sincere; as if she had really meant it. And the manner with which she had spoken to him the night before had shown no mean intentions either.
Unless she is a really good actor...
But Henry didnʼt want to believe that she was merely acting. It simply could not be like that. He wished so much that her vulnerability, her sweet smile, and her apology had not been faked. What reason should she have for lulling him into a false sense of security? Had he not given her proof enough that he didnʼt want anyone to cause her harm? That he would even go as far as risking his whole lifeʼs salary for paying off an ugly vase that she herself
had broken? It had only occurred to him much later that it had been more than imprudent to offer Lord Partridge that he would pay for the damage. He was well aware now that if the lord had accepted the offer, this would have financially ruined Henry.
But if it had all been real, if that what he had seen last night was Sarahʼs true self, then he would feel so much sympathy for her for being stuck in this horrible house. He would also feel the need to protect her. And he would feel the deep desire to get close to her—closer than he would probably ever be allowed.
Henry arduously climbed out of bed and tottered over to the wash basin where he let his hands sink into the water, not caring that it was as cold as ice. He guessed that the chambermaid had already placed a carafe of hot water outside in front of his door, but he didnʼt even bother to check. He welcomed the chill and wouldnʼt have minded to downright dive into a whole pool of cold water—if only it brought him back to his senses.
Henry & Sarah Page 8
