by Stella Riley
Julian had a particular fondness for Le Vertigo because it twisted and turned, never doing quite what one expected. Half a dozen contrasting themes, from lyrical to fierce, chased each other apparently at random. If there was a pattern, Julian had never found it. He had also never decided whether Royer was a genius or merely possessed of a wicked sense of humour – because Vertigo contained pauses which tempted premature applause. After being caught out by the first of these and glimpsing Julian’s glance of amused reproof, the audience grew more cautious – with the result that, when the piece was over, he signified it by immediately rising from the bench.
This time the applause was deafening and it went on and on, punctuated by demands for an encore. Julian merely smiled, bowed, waited … and sought Rockliffe’s gaze.
‘Oh – by all means,’ replied the duke with a lazy gesture. ‘I doubt that I will be the only person disappointed if you leave the platform without playing something of your own.’
‘In that case … Sarabande in D minor and Rondo in G major,’ said Julian. And added awkwardly, ‘Both of them dedicated to the lady who unknowingly inspired them.’
Several romantically-inclined ladies sighed.
And too excited to keep his voice down, Rob said, ‘That’s you, Miss Belle!’
Over the ensuing gust of laughter as virtually every head in the audience turned to find the source of this remark, Mr Audley called out, ‘She knows now, Julian!’
Despite the bud of awed pleasure blossoming inside her, Arabella slid down in her seat wishing she dared sit on the floor. Max murmured, ‘It’s no good hiding. The secret’s out. You may as well get up and take a bow.’
‘Be quiet!’ she hissed back. ‘Does Julian look embarrassed?’
‘It’s hard to tell. He’s sitting down and will probably start to play when he’s decided how to kill Rob.’
The first notes of the Sarabande drifted softly from beneath Julian’s fingers. Arabella folded her arms about her middle, trying to contain the enormity of knowing he had written this bitter-sweet piece – the one she and the villagers had always liked best – for her. If there was a greater gift than this one, she couldn’t imagine it. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. And when the Sarabande became a Rondo … light as a feather and full of teasing ripples and trills … she lost the ability to breathe.
When it was over, Julian rose and accepted the applause hand on heart with a bow, a smile and his usual air of faint abstraction. Then he left the platform.
The audience summoned him back with a standing ovation during which Rockliffe strolled over to shake his hand and offer his congratulations. Julian shrugged, bowed once more to the auditorium, left the stage again … and didn’t return.
Leaning across Max to grasp Arabella’s hand, Louisa said softly, ‘Oh my darling … to think he wrote those pieces for you! Such a lovely thing to do.’
Gradually, the room quieted sufficiently for the duke to announce that supper awaited and people began to leave. Telling the children to stay with Max and her mother, Arabella started making her way in Julian’s wake. She passed one lady voicing her shock at Mr Langham’s state of undress and being pooh-poohed by the Duchess of Queensberry on the score that genius was allowed its little foibles.
‘But truly – I didn’t know where to look!’ the first lady exclaimed.
‘You must have been the only one, then,’ retorted the duchess.
Arabella was just about to leave the ballroom when Rockliffe detained her, saying, ‘I suspect he needs a few moments of quiet, Arabella. Share them with him, by all means … then bring him to join the other guests. There are at least three gentlemen who are eager to speak with him.’ He smiled a little. ‘You may tell him that one of them is from the Queen’s House.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Arabella found Julian sitting on the window-seat, eyes closed, one wrist resting loosely on his raised knee … and grinning with post-performance elation. She wanted to walk across and put her arms around him but to do that now after what had happened at the end of the concert would look like an assumption. If a first move was to be made, it would be up to Julian to make it.
And so, without waiting for him to either open his eyes or speak, she said softly, ‘Thank you. You know I’ve always loved the Sarabande but I never dreamed --’
‘That I wrote it for you?’ He turned his head and looked at her, his expression somehow both relaxed and exhilarated. ‘No. You wouldn’t, I suppose. Did you like the Rondo?’
‘Very much. It … you’ll think I’m foolish, but it sounded like laughter.’
‘Yes. Yours.’
Arabella stared at him. ‘Mine?’
‘From the first time I heard it and every time thereafter. I knew it needed to be a Rondo – but it took a long time to come right.’ He swung his feet to the floor and stood up in one smooth, collected movement. ‘I’m glad you liked it.’
‘I … Julian, it’s the most beautiful gift any woman ever received. I just – I can’t find the words.’ She paused, then added, ‘I’m sorry about Rob. You must want to throttle him.’
‘It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?’
‘Somewhat. Were you embarrassed?’
‘Not especially – though I’ll admit I’d have preferred not to have the entire audience expecting me to go down on one knee there and then.’
Arabella’s heart gave a single odd lurch. Striving to sound amused, she said, ‘Not quite the entire audience, surely? And most people won’t know which lady you meant anyway.’
‘I don’t care about them.’ He prowled towards her, his eyes holding hers with unusual intensity. ‘You knew, didn’t you? Even without Rob, you must have known it was for you. And why.’
‘Perhaps … but it isn’t the kind of thing one can take for granted.’ Seeing his expression change but unable to interpret it, she said quickly, ‘Are you ready to face your public yet? There are people waiting to speak with you and --’
‘In a minute.’ With the sort of predatory grace Arabella would never have suspected he possessed, Julian closed the space between them. ‘We’ll go in a minute. First --’
‘No.’
She stared into dark pools of forest green and held him back with the flat of one hand as she realised what she should have seen instantly. He was still the man he became in performance; the confident, invincible virtuoso without a nerve in his body. Arabella stared at him, wondering how long this might last … but aware that it was the incarnation which would serve him best while he met the men Rockliffe had spoken of.
She said firmly, ‘No, Julian. We will go now. This evening was all about one thing – and you will not waste it by keeping people waiting. One of the gentlemen wishing to speak with you is from the Queen’s House, for heaven’s sake!’
He frowned slightly. ‘Does that mean what it sounds like?’
‘Yes. A lot of people still call it Buckingham House – which is what it was before the King bought it. Now, the Queen and all the royal children live there – and the King as well, most of the time. So come and make use of your success now you’ve earned it.’
Julian removed her palm from his chest, dropped a warm kiss in the centre of it and kept a firm hold on her hand. ‘But you and I will speak later. Yes?’
‘Y-Yes.’
‘Good.’ He turned away and shrugged back into his coat. ‘Let’s go, then.’
* * *
Julian entered the drawing-room to a fresh burst of applause and was immediately surrounded by gentlemen wishing to shake his hand and ladies wanting to engage the beautiful young virtuoso’s interest. Arabella slid away to join the Audleys near the buffet-table and began loading food on to a plate.
Grinning, Sebastian said, ‘Hungry, are you?’
‘It’s for Julian. He won’t have eaten before the concert and he won’t get the chance now if something isn’t done about it.’ She handed the plate to him. ‘Take it, please. You’ve got mor
e chance of elbowing your way through than I have.’
Collecting a glass of wine en route from a passing footman, Sebastian reached Julian’s side by simply telling everyone to make way before Mr Langham expired from starvation. Then, dropping his voice, he murmured, ‘Bloody well done, Julian. The piece that put everybody into a state of catalepsy wasn’t just a brave choice – it was inspired. Now … drink your wine and eat something before Rockliffe starts introducing you to the men he invited purely to meet you.’
During the next hour and beginning to feel light-headed with euphoria, Julian accepted an engagement to play at the Pantheon the following week and another for a concert at Queensberry House. Then Max walked up and, in a rapid undertone, said, ‘A few minutes ago I heard the Misses Caldercott telling Lady Amberley and some others about your impromptu concerts for the villagers. And Mother and Mistress Featherstone lost track of Rob and Ellie for a short while – with the result that half the people here know exactly who they are and that you plan to adopt them. So now, in addition to your official status as a genius, you are well on the way to recommendation for sainthood.’ And seeing Julian wince, ‘Yes. That’s what I thought, too.’
Eventually, some of the guests started to leave and Rockliffe asked Julian to join him in the library. There, he presented him to Sir Alec Kinross who shook his hand and said, ‘Allow me to congratulate you on your performance, my lord. It was truly extraordinary.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I am here at Her Majesty’s behest, of course – but I have seldom enjoyed an evening more. Indeed, the Queen might have attended in person but that she is, once again, enceinte. She has a great fondness for music, you understand, and is keen to nurture it in her children – particularly the young princesses.’
‘Come to the point, Alec,’ sighed Rockliffe. ‘I’m sure Julian would like to enjoy his triumph for what is left of the evening.’
With an easy smile and a shrug, Julian said, ‘By no means, sir. I’m at your disposal.’
Kinross laughed. ‘Of course you are. But Rock is right. I am instructed to invite you to give a private recital for the royal family. They won’t pay you, of course. They never do. But the cachet ought to go some way to making up for that. What do you say?’
He bowed slightly. ‘Naturally, I would be honoured.’
‘Excellent. Expect to hear from me in the next few days with possible dates.’ He shook Julian’s hand again and added, ‘You’ll go far, young man – and you deserve to. But when you play for the Queen, you had best keep your coat on.’
When he had gone, the duke said, ‘Allow me to add my own congratulations, Julian. I had very high expectations … and you exceeded them.’
‘I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you. I owe this evening wholly to you and --’
‘That isn’t entirely true,’ interposed Rockliffe with a hint of laughter. ‘But for Arabella and Elizabeth’s idiotic masquerade, your path and mine might never have crossed. So I think we must give them some of the credit.’
At the end of a further hour, the company had shrunk to the duke’s particular friends, Arabella’s family, the Beckingham delegation and the children. Although elation was still fizzing through his veins, Julian was slowly coming down to earth … and there remained one thing necessary to make the evening complete. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how he was going to get it without everyone jumping to conclusions; and the fact that they would be the right conclusions didn’t make it any better. Finally, seeing that Rob was yawning and Ellie about to fall asleep, he stood up saying, ‘Time for bed, you three. I’ll see you on your way and then, if no one minds, I’d like to go back to the ballroom for a little while.’
‘You’ve just given a concert and you want to play some more?’ asked Max incredulously. ‘Are you completely insane?’
Julian shrugged and avoided his lordship’s eyes. ‘Probably. But it’s habit, mostly. And after a performance … well, I just need time to recover my balance.’
‘Go,’ said Arabella. ‘I’ll see to the children. Ellie will need help with her new dress and the nurse-maid has enough to do.’ She waved a dismissive hand at Julian. ‘Go and take a half hour for yourself. You’ve earned it.’
Upstairs in the nursery suite, she made short work of Ellie’s ribbons and laces and smiled ruefully when the child fell asleep even before her goodnight kiss. Then Tom was at her elbow saying quietly, ‘Now you go, Miss Belle. Nobody needs to know you weren’t here with us all the time – and I reckon he’s waiting for you.’
‘Thank you,’ whispered Arabella, surprised and touched by the boy’s perceptiveness. ‘Thank you, Tom.’ Then she was gone.
Having re-lit a branch of candles, Julian threw off his coat and sat down on the bench. Without conscious thought, his hands drifted lightly through a bit of Couperin he’d considered for the concert and then discarded. He wondered if she would come. He thought she would. She always had at Chalfont. And tonight … he’d told her that he wanted to talk to her, hadn’t he?
He heard the door open and spun round to watch her tripping quickly down the length of the room towards him. Rising, he said, ‘I wasn’t sure you’d come.’
‘I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.’
‘Why? We agreed, didn’t we?’
‘Yes. But you always play late at night and, after this evening, it wasn’t surprising that you’d want some peace. However, Tom said you would be waiting … so here I am.’
‘Tom understands too damned much for a twelve-year-old – though there are times I’m glad of it.’ Julian reached out a hand for one of hers. ‘Will you sit? I want … there are things I want to say to you but it may take me a while to find the right words.’
Arabella sank down upon the bench and looked up at him.
‘The right words don’t matter. Just tell me.’
He nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets and said, ‘I wrote the music for you. I did it because I couldn’t help it and because, at the time, it was the only thing I could do. But tonight has changed everything. I have three further engagements.’ He grinned faintly. ‘I’ll even be paid for two of them.’
‘You’ll have a dozen more when word gets out that you played for the Queen.’
‘I hope so. But until tonight, I couldn’t be sure. If it hadn’t been a success --’
‘There was never any chance of that.’
‘I couldn’t take the risk. With things as they are at Chalfont, even given Max’s help … and me not exactly being much of a catch …’ He hesitated and hauled in an unsteady breath. ‘I didn’t think there was the remotest chance that – that you’d marry me.’
The candlelight flickered oddly and there was a faint roaring in her ears. She said weakly, ‘Are you asking me to?’
‘Yes. God, yes. Will you?’ And without giving her the chance to answer, ‘I’m aware that you could do a hundred times better – but you must know how I feel about you. You saw how the prospect of you going away and not coming back turned me into a gibbering idiot. I didn’t know how I would bear it. The mere thought made me feel ill. And that wasn’t because of the children. It was me, panicking.’ He stopped again, looking vaguely helpless. ‘I love you. At least, I suppose that’s what it is. I’ve never felt this way about anyone … as if losing you would be as bad as never being able to play another note.’ He shut his eyes and added despairingly, ‘I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I? I probably should have said that I love you and then asked you to consider marrying me. I probably also ought to be on my knees. Would it help if I did that?’
Throughout what he was already realising was possibly the worst marriage proposal in history, Arabella had been staring at him, wide-eyed. Now, with a tiny uncertain shake of her head, she said, ‘No.’
‘Oh.’ Something cold and hard slammed through his chest. ‘No. Of course.’
‘No – I meant, don’t kneel. There’s no need.’
‘Oh.’ It took him a second to allow hope back in. ‘Then you’ll c
onsider it? Please? I’ll be content with that until you decide. Just don’t say no right now.’
‘I don’t want to say no at all.’ Unable to help herself, Arabella stood up to put her arms around his waist and lean her brow against his shoulder. He immediately wrapped her so close that she could feel the fast thundering of his heart. ‘I want to say that I love you and I’ll marry you and that, out of all the men in the world, there is no one better for me than you; that I’d choose you over a hundred or even a thousand other men because not one of them would be a fraction as remarkable as you are. You’re unfailingly kind, you never complain or put yourself first and what you’re doing for the children is … well. There aren’t words for it.’ She stopped and then added miserably, ‘But I can’t, Julian. I can’t say any of those things without telling you something else first.’
The silence was so long that she wondered if he’d understood. Finally, he asked unsteadily, ‘Do you mean it?’
‘Every word.’
‘Even the bit about loving me?’
‘Especially that bit.’
Relief and gratitude shuddered through him.
‘Then nothing else matters.’
‘This does. It – it might make you change your mind.’
‘It won’t. It couldn’t.’
‘We’ll see.’ She freed herself from his embrace and stepped back to look him in the eye. ‘I was betrothed once. We were both very young and his regiment was being sent to the Colonies so it was agreed that we wouldn’t marry until he came back. But he didn’t come back. He married a girl in Massachusetts instead.’
‘Oh.’ Julian shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I’m not sure I ever loved him, so I wouldn’t have minded him jilting me. I might even have been glad of it if only I hadn’t let him persuade me to – to lie with him before he left.’ Arabella forced herself not to look away. ‘I’ve regretted it every day since then but that doesn’t make it any better. So you see …?’
