Fortune Knocks Once (15 page)

“S-s-s-stop, you are embarrassing me,” Charlotte hissed.

At that moment servants in the elaborate livery of their hostess began circulating through the room asking everyone to please take their seats so the program could begin. Lizzie and Charlotte gracefully made their way to two seats at the front of the room just as Mr. Colson stepped up to the piano, sat down on the bench and began adjusting the sheets of music on the piano.

Charlotte stared at him wonderingly.

Does he truly care for me? Is that possible? Or is he just a very nice, polite man interested in protecting a very lucrative post? I am sure that is it…I am just his student, nothing more. Lizzie loves to tease…

As if aware of her perusal, Mr. Colson turned his head to scan the crowd and his eyes honed in on her gaze. His eyes snared hers and held her immobile as she returned the look, unable to break the connection. From her peripheral vision, Charlotte saw Lizzie turn and look at her and knew she should divert her gaze before others in the audience noticed the singular attention between instructor and student.

But before she could rouse herself to look away, Mr. Colson moved his attention to the hostess who had stepped to his side to make introductions. Charlotte’s face flushed softly at her release and she looked down at her hands awkwardly fluttering in her lap.

“Calm down girl. Breathe deeply, don’t make a scene,” Lizzie calmly whispered in her ear.

Throughout the performance Charlotte was unable to maintain her attention on Mr. Colson. Every time she tried to look at him as any other member of the audience would, she began to think about what Lizzie had said and found herself flushed and forced to look away.

Mr. Colson performed several lengthy musical pieces with great precision and talent which ordinarily Charlotte would have enjoyed immensely. But tonight, given Lizzie’s teasing and her own confusing and unsure reactions to him, Charlotte could only wish for a quick end to the program. Then she was sure it had to be at an end, since Mr. Colson had risen from the bench, bowed to the audience and waited graciously for the enthusiastic applause to abate. But he then said something that caused her to shift in her seat uneasily.

“Thank you my good people. Your applause is most gratifying and surely more than I deserve for my humble gifts. I hope you have enjoyed my selections but do not be concerned that your entertainment is over. I wonder if I might impose on you to convince one of my most talented pupils to favor all of us with a piece that I know everyone here will enjoy as much as anything I have played tonight.”

Surely not, he couldn’t mean me...does he have other students here, surely he must…

When he finished with his little speech, he looked at her and smiling broadly, extended his arm in her direction. As the understanding of what he was doing slowly rose in her, her stomach knotted and twisted in horror. She struggled to keep her feelings from reflecting on her face and revealing to everyone present how desperately she wanted to escape.

I can’t…you must know that…not in front of all these people…

But slowly and carefully, Mr. Colson made his way over to Charlotte’s chair and reached out an arm to her to indicate that she was indeed the student of whom he spoke and that he had every intention of compelling her to the front of the room. He looked as eager as a small boy who has revealed the location of a hidden cache of cookies to his compatriots.

Charlotte quickly glanced at Lizzie for rescue, but found none forthcoming.

Lizzie gently nudged her arm. “Go on, darling, everyone would love to hear you sing, I am sure.”

Charlotte hurried and with great difficulty composed herself, slowly and reluctantly took Mr. Colson’s hand, rose from her chair and walked gracefully over to the side of the piano.

Murmurs and whispers spread through the crowd and a low noise vibrated through the room as everyone anticipated the performance of the least spoken and quietest member of the ton, who was about to perform in so public a venue.

Mr. Colson and Charlotte whispered to each other for several minutes in obvious harmony, heads almost touching, hands still unconsciously clasped tightly. Several members of the audience raised their eyebrows to each other in silent speculation.

Then he sat down at the piano and began to play a lovely, lilting melody while Charlotte carefully arranged herself by the piano, smoothing her skirts, straightening her shoulders and lifting her head, eyes fixed on the far wall high above the heads of the audience.

The audience stilled and not a sound was heard except the notes so beautifully reverberating into the room from the piano. Then as the music swelled around her, Charlotte seemed to fill with an inner air of peace and confidence. By the time she started singing, she was aware only of the music and her song. As was always the case when she sang, all evidence of her stuttering, all feelings of inadequacy and all worries of the world fell away and became insignificant in the face of the beautiful sounds she was capable of creating.

Click
Jephtha’s Daughter
to enjoy a Regency period piece evocative of Charlotte’s song.

When Charlotte finished her piece, complete silence reigned in the room for several seconds, as if the crowd was dumbstruck by the performance they had witnessed. As a look of panic began to spread over Charlotte’s face, a sharp bark of applause rang out and was soon followed by a raising crescendo of clapping and cheering, many people rising to their feet to show their appreciation.

Charlotte blushed prettily, bowed graciously and hurriedly returned to her chair without saying a word. Mr. Colson jumped from his seat, vigorously encouraged the audience in their clapping and bowed in her direction.

From the back of the room, Colin watched with rising disquiet as the scene unfolded in the music room. Gil had told him she would be here. He had come to surprise her…to play the attentive husband for once…to support his insecure, shy, little wife…to make her happy.

But she didn’t need me here at all, he thought vacantly. I have wasted my time coming here to this ridiculous place…they’re not even serving any strong drink…her up there with all eyes on her…who knew she could perform like that?…so talented and entertaining…

He had watched her intently as she sang, standing so still and graceful. Her lovely white neck vibrating from the sounds issuing forth. He had heard her voice more in the few minutes during her song than he had in the whole time they had been in London, he brooded. She hated her stuttering. It had never mattered to him. He didn’t care, but she rarely talked to him anymore. She wasn’t his pathetic little Kitten anymore.

Colin could do nothing more than stare blankly at anyone who spoke to him. His gaze always immediately returned to Charlotte. Then the audience dispersed around him as the program concluded and the applause died down.

He watched sullenly as Mr. Colson approached Lizzie and Charlotte and after a short conversation, led Charlotte out to the veranda without Lizzie. He wanted to march out there and interrupt them but knew it would only make things worse between him and Charlotte – if they could get any worse.

When was the last time they had enjoyed each other in bed? He couldn’t remember. But he could remember those glorious nights in Kilkenny lying in each other’s arms. How had they lost that? He was getting hard just thinking about Charlotte in bed waiting for him, undressed and laid out for him, just him.

He surreptitiously moved over to the door leading out to the veranda. Charlotte and her annoying singing instructor had moved down the steps into the lawn and were standing close, talking quietly. He moved out onto the veranda but not close enough to hear their conversation or so they could see him amid the plants lining the veranda steps. From the look of both of them, the conversation was intense.

What was he saying to her? He wanted to charge over and break them apart but didn’t know what he would say to Charlotte afterward. This London songstress wasn’t someone he knew how to handle. Where was his stuttering little gamine? With her, a kiss and a tickle would have had them rolling around together with their clothes off in no time. But that didn’t seem to happen anymore.

What is she thinking? Does she not love him anymore? When was the last time she had looked at him with those big, brown eyes filled with adoration? Had he destroyed everything between them? He stood unable to move, unable to do anything but watch as Charlotte and Mr. Colson talked privately, filling him with feelings as unwelcome as they were unidentifiable.

Charlotte stared at Mr. Colson, even more tongue-tied than she usually was.

“You must know how I feel about you Charlotte,” Mr. Colson said while reaching for her hand.

Charlotte pulled her hand away murmuring, “M-M-Mr. C-C-Colson, please. I am m-m-married.”

“I know…I know…that is why I have hidden my feelings for so long. But Charlotte, I cannot hide them any longer. I think of nothing but you. I wander the streets of London unable to
eat, sleep or perform. My music is suffering…oh, my lovely, fragile flower…I can hold my tongue no longer. Your miserable excuse for a husband does not appreciate you as I do. You must meet me somewhere so we can be private.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened in surprise. “N-n-no. I c-c-could not. I m-m-must go.

“May I kiss you?” Mr. Colson asked.

“N-n-no,” she almost shouted, not at all gently. Her voice then lowered and Mr. Colson’s countenance darkened and his stance deflated as she spoke to him. Where just previously he had been an ardent lover overcome with passion, he now had the look of a man defeated and dejected.

When she finished, he stared into her eyes for several long, excruciating seconds, then without another word, he turned away and strode off toward the house.

Charlotte stood straight and alone in the garden staring at his departing figure, the weight of guilt causing an unfamiliar defensiveness and indignation to arise within her.

Surely I didn’t give him any encouragement? He can’t think I would be unfaithful to Colin? He is everything that is gentlemanly and sweet, but he could never be to me what Colin is.

Thoughts of Colin filled her with melancholy. Her life had certainly changed in the last few weeks, in some wonderful ways but also some awful ways. Charlotte slowly walked down the garden path, feeling numb and overwhelmed.

Was it worth it? Gain access to the delights and adventures of life in London, but lose Colin’s intimate touch, his gentle caresses, his loving attentions. Who is getting those attentions now?

She slowly made her way along the path back to the house at the far end of the veranda where another door led back into the crowd. She purposely avoided going back the way she had come to insure not encountering Mr. Colson in front of everyone. Just before she stepped into the house, she turned her head and gazed over at the veranda where she saw Colin standing watching her intently.

For several long minutes, they both stood rooted in place, still as statues, gazing at each other. The signs of his dissipation are visible, she thought dejectedly. His clothes not quite perfect, his stance just a tad too insecure with an occasional swaying and those powerful black eyes that had the power to raise her spirits high or low, now clouded and at half-mast.

But he is so handsome and just looking at him can still make my heart catch. I did not even know he was here. Why is he here? This is hardly the type of event he would seek out. And here we are – together and yet not really together at all - that seems apropos of what our life has become.