Gail Whitiker - Improper Miss Darling

‘Thank you, Lady Widdicombe.’

‘Of course, both would be improved by regular practice. I would advise you to take the required time during each day to do so.’

‘Yes, Lady Widdicombe.’

‘And now, it is Miss Darling’s turn to entertain us,’ the countess said. ‘Unless she feels it will be too embarrassing for her.’

Emma smiled. Had Lady Widdicombe not tossed in that last line, she might have gracefully demurred. But never one to back away from a challenge, she sat down on the bench recently vacated by her sister and said, ‘I do have one or two tolerable pieces in my repertoire. I simply shall not sing for that would be most humbling after Linette’s performance. And I doubt that would be improved if I were to practise every hour of every day from now until I died.’

Lady Widdicombe said nothing, allowing Emma a brief moment of victory. The countess might be able to tell Linette what she should and should not do, but she certainly wasn’t going to exert the same influence over her. One had to draw the line somewhere.

It would have been a great deal better, Emma reflected later, had she been the first to perform and Linette the second. Because by the time Linette had taken Emma’s vacant seat next to Aunt Dorothy and Emma was ready to play, the door opened again and the gentlemen walked in. And it became immediately evident that no one had been expecting to see her seated at the pianoforte. Emma saw a look of startled pleasure on her father’s face and a slightly more cautious one on Mr Taylor’s.

Lord Stewart’s expression was unreadable. Nor could she glean anything from the tone of his voice, when, moving to stand beside the fireplace, he said, ‘I did not expect you to honour us with a performance, Miss Darling.’

‘I did not say I was unable to play, my lord,’ Emma said evenly. ‘Only that I do not play as well as I paint. Nor do I sing as well as my sister, whose performance you just missed.’

‘Then I hope we may prevail upon Miss Linette to sing for us again. But we should regret not hearing you play first.’

Equally sure he wouldn’t have cared had she left immediately after dinner, Emma turned her attention back to the piano. Normally, she would have quailed at having to perform in front of such dignified company, but having recently discovered a piece by Bach that she liked very much, and having spent more time than usual practising it while at Aunt Augusta’s house, Emma had managed to imprint the score firmly in her mind. Now, after giving herself a few minutes to recall the intricate opening, she placed her fingers upon the keys and began to play.

Music rolled forth. Not sweet and sentimental like Linette’s ‘Greensleeves,’ but strong and powerful, the melody filling the room. It was one of passion and unrequited love, and on the exquisite instrument the notes rang true and clear. For once, Emma forgot about her audience and lost herself in the music. She had never performed on such a marvellous instrument before and she was astonished at how well the piece sounded. As she brought her hands down on the final chords, her heart was beating hard, her exhilaration at having executed the complicated piece without a mistake bringing an unexpected glow of triumph to her cheeks.

There was a moment’s stunned silence. Then, enthusiastic applause broke out as Emma rose to take her bows. She saw a variety of expressions on the faces turned towards her. On her father’s, pride, pure and simple. On her aunt’s, pride mingled with relief, and on Linette’s, astonished admiration. Peter Taylor’s mouth was open and Lady Widdicombe was staring at her in disbelief.

Only Lord Stewart’s expression bore no indication of surprise. ‘You did not tell us the truth of your ability, Miss Darling. Seldom have I heard that piece played better or with more emotion.’

‘Indeed, I believe you were having sport with us, Miss Darling,’ Peter said. ‘I vow she would give Lady Glynnis a run for her money. What say you, Alex?’

‘I’d say Miss Darling could hold her own with anyone,’ he answered evenly. ‘Well done, Miss Darling.’

‘Indeed, Emma, well done!’ Linette said with unconcealed joy.

Emma politely inclined her head, grateful for the praise, but more relieved that she hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of everyone in the room. She’d told herself when she’d sat down at the piano that she had wanted to make a good showing for Linette’s sake and that she hadn’t played the piece to impress anyone, but that wasn’t entirely true.

She had wanted to make a good impression. She had wanted to impress him.

‘Thank you, but it is one of the few pieces I play well,’ she said. ‘As indicated earlier, my repertoire is extremely limited.’

‘If you were only to play that one piece, you would find yourself welcome in any drawing room,’ Lord Stewart said.

The subtle words of praise had Emma raising her eyes to his; something she immediately came to regret. She didn’t want him thinking she cared, any more than she was willing to admit she did.

‘Play something else, Miss Darling,’ Peter implored. ‘You must have at least one other song with which to entertain us.’

‘What about “The Merry Piper”?’ Aunt Dorothy suggested.

Emma nodded. ‘Only if Linette will sing.’

Not surprisingly, Linette was delighted to sing and because they had performed the duet so many times, Emma knew they acquitted themselves well. The music was lovely and Linette’s sweet soprano voice made easy work of the lyrics. At the conclusion, they were again met with enthusiastic applause.

‘I say, the two of you must perform for our guests at the ball,’ Peter said. ‘I don’t believe I have ever heard a lovelier duet.’

‘Nonsense, Peter, musicians have already been engaged,’ his mother said. ‘It is hardly the thing for your … fiancée and her sister to entertain.’

‘In that case, I am delighted we were treated to the performance tonight.’ He moved to stand beside Linette and taking her hand, raised it to his lips. ‘Did I not tell you she was the most beautiful, the most gifted, the most remarkable young lady of my acquaintance?’

Emma hastily averted her eyes from the lovestruck look on her future brother-in-law’s face and promptly locked gazes with Lord Stewart—whose expression was anything but lovestruck. What was he thinking as he watched the pretty scene unfold? That it was hopelessly romantic? An emotional embarrassment? Was he counting the minutes until he could politely slip away? The half-smile on his lips might be one of amusement, but it could just as easily signify boredom or contempt. He didn’t strike Emma as the type of man who would find pleasure in such simple drawing-room entertainments.

‘Well done, dearest,’ Aunt Dorothy whispered as Emma sat back down beside her. ‘Your father and I could not be more proud.’

Emma managed a fleeting smile, aware of being able to breathe a little easier now that the performance was over. But she was far from happy with her silly need to impress Peter’s brother. Of what concern was it to her what he thought of her? The man was attractive, wealthy and heir to an earldom. He was no doubt used to women falling at his feet and to singing his praises in the hopes of attracting his attention.

Emma had no intention of becoming one of those women. She was not some simple-minded female easily swayed by good looks and an impressive title. She judged a man on the strength of his convictions, on the fairness of his mind and on the kindness of his words. What she had seen of Lord Stewart tonight was a man assessing a situation. One who had likely been asked to pass judgement on Linette and possibly on the rest of her family as well. Because when a man married, his bride’s family became his family. Her assets became his assets. And her liabilities became his liabilities.