The Quickening Maze - Adam Foulds [47]
‘If you are sure . . .’
‘Of course we are.’
Tennyson made a gruff noise of agreement.
‘Alfred, please take a seat.’
‘I shall call for tea,’ Eliza whispered and walked away. Hannah refused to meet her glance; she felt it needling at her forehead. She sat again and began another of the sonatas, but immediately thought of what was happening, who was listening: the tempo crumpled, notes clattered into one another. She shouted at herself in her mind to be calm, to play as usual, and even as she felt sweat prickling on her upper lip she regained control. She slowed through sweet phrases, held them up in display. She played on, only making further errors when her mother returned to the room with Fulton and Dora, and Tennyson lit his pipe. It was difficult also to look as well as possible while concentrating and knowing that her face had reddened in that awful flecked way it had. Through her closing bars the tea arrived. She played the final cadences with great vehemence and separation, then stood up feeble and helpless, her face slippery with sweat.
‘Wonderful,’ her father congratulated her.
‘Very eloquent,’ Tennyson said.
‘Really?’
He nodded, exhaling smoke from his nostrils. ‘Indeed,’ he said.
The word hotly pierced her. Eloquent! And from a poet. She must have touched his soul! She now sat triumphantly among them and looked at her warm fingers while Tennyson went on with the thought that all young ladies ought to be musical, that it brightens a home. He asked Eliza if she played.
‘Not as much as I used to, with so much to attend to. Dora plays also.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Matthew leaped in.‘And she will be brightening her own home soon. Dora is to marry in, what, just a couple of weeks now. I hope you will do us the honour of joining us for the wedding. The party will be here.’
‘Well, yes. Why not?’ Tennyson turned with courtesy to the silent Dora. ‘I would indeed be honoured.’ Such a thing, a lively and happy family. It was a pleasure for him to be among them. It was life as it ought to be lived, unlike his private, stagnant whatever you may call it.
The wedding, Hannah thought, would be ideal. What better, more conducive day could there be? It would happen! He had practically announced it himself. With her eloquent music, she would brighten his home.
Tea was taken while the conversation continued, light and cheerful and without hesitation.Tennyson ate a noticeable quantity of toasted tea bread and, slightly to Hannah’s dismay, relit his pipe while still chewing.
When tea was done, Matthew announced, ‘Ladies, if you will excuse us. Alfred, perhaps you would care to join me in my study. There’s something I’d rather like you to see. Fulton, you too.’
‘Certainly,’ Tennyson said, and, along with his host, rose and bowed to the ladies.
‘Good bye,’ Hannah said.
‘Good bye,’ he answered.‘And thank you once again for playing.’
With an arm held out in a curve around his shoulders, Matthew Allen edged around Tennyson and guided him to the door. Fulton followed them, satisfied at being invited to leave the irrelevant women behind.
‘Now, you may recall a conversation we had some time ago,’ Allen began, softly closing his study door behind them,‘in which I expressed a desire to broaden the scope of my activities once more.’
‘Indeed, I do. A most agreeable conversation.’
Allen smiled.‘Well, I believe that I have been inspired with just the sort of idea, one that is absolutely ripe for the moment, with truly remarkable prospects.