Song of the Spirits (89 page)

In addition to preparing for the engagement party, Elaine spent a great deal of time on the piano, which Timothy found somewhat reassuring. He had persuaded Madame Clarisse to let Kura and Elaine practice their music when the pub was closed, which kept Elaine off the streets for several hours a day. He hardly dared think about the performance in Blenheim. However, he hoped by then they would have made it through the worst. After all, Elaine had promised to turn herself into the authorities right after the engagement party. The constable might not even let her go to Blenheim though. Elaine and Kura did not seem to have considered this possibility, as they were too deeply immersed in their work on Caleb’s scores.

To her relief, Elaine had determined that the piano part was not too difficult. She could sight-read it fluently right from the start and soon knew it by heart. Unfortunately, she was lacking in virtuosity. Although she was the more sentimental of the two girls, Elaine didn’t have the least sense of nuance in music. She did not pick up on the soul of the piece; her playing was technically correct but without any expressiveness or special emphasis. Where Caleb had instinctively created accents through tiny variations—a barely perceptible vibration, or a slight hesitation in the piano’s answer to the flute—Elaine simply followed the notes. Kura almost drove herself to distraction trying to explain the distinction to Elaine.

“A rest? I should wait first instead of playing? For how long? A quarter rest?”

“A heartbeat,” Kura said, sighing. “A gust of wind.”

Elaine gave her a confused look. “I’ll try an eighth note.”

Kura eventually gave up. Their rendition wouldn’t be perfect. But at least Elaine did not suffer from stage fright, and she was certain not to play a wrong note. Besides, the audience in Blenheim would not be terribly discerning. And Elaine’s playing was certainly better than most of the opera arias Roderick and his ensemble had defiled on the hotel stage.

Elaine’s dress was finally ready. She looked magnificent. Mrs. O’Brien had made an Alice band for her hair out of the same azure-blue velvet fabric as the dress. Elaine planned to wear her hair down, keeping it out of her face with the simple headband.

“You look like a fairy, Miss Keefer,” Mrs. O’Brien said adoringly. “You have such wonderfully soft hair. It floats about you as though a breeze were constantly wafting over you. Back home in Ireland, we chose a Queen of Spring every year, and I always pictured a girl like you.” Mrs. O’Brien was as proud of Elaine in her beautiful dress as if she were her own daughter.

“I don’t know. Fairies and elves are so helpless,” Elaine muttered, immediately recalling her first encounter with William. “I think I’d rather be a witch. But this dress is wonderful, Mrs. O’Brien. Soon every woman in town will have you making something for her. Mr. Mortimer will be in a huff.”

Mrs. O’Brien snorted. “Mr. Mortimer doesn’t have five children to feed. He has a nice house in town and makes ends meet. I don’t feel too bad about it.”

When the day of the celebration finally arrived, Roly picked up Elaine at the Lucky Horse in Timothy’s two-wheeled chaise—and to her surprise, Timothy had accompanied him on Fellow. He was already wearing his evening suit, but he looked vexed.

“I know I should have restrained myself, particularly on this occasion, but I just got into a fight with my father,” he said to Elaine. “He’s been drinking since he woke up this morning, and I didn’t know why. I finally told him he was going to make a rather bad impression on our guests if he was drunk. Well, then he admitted to me—today of all days—that he’s looking for investors for the mine! Partners, you understand. With that, he’s shutting me out once and for all. And if my own father thinks I’m a failure, there’s certainly no stranger who will hire me.” Timothy looked miserable and hurt.

“In any case, I’m resolved now. As soon as we’ve finalized your divorce, Lainie, we’ll disappear. I’m fed up with all of it!”

Fellow pranced beneath his impatient rider as though he would have liked to embark on the journey right then on his own hooves. If this continued, Timothy would be completely exhausted before the celebration even got under way. Even on the calmest of days, riding required a good deal of effort on his part.

Elaine soothed Fellow and gently removed Timothy’s clenched hand from the reins. “First come down from that horse. Your mother will have a fit if your good suit smells like the stables. Roly can take Fellow back, and you can drive me in the chaise—it will be wonderfully romantic. It’s a full moon too. We can make stops along the way and practice kissing as official fiancés.”

Timothy smiled weakly, and Elaine pressed a soft kiss into his hand.

“First things first, we need to make it through this evening,” she said. “Everything else will sort itself out.” She took her seat in the chaise, draping the wide skirt of her dress picturesquely over the bench. Timothy rode over to his mounting block in the stables and accomplished the feat of sliding from his horse, getting his splints from the saddle, attaching them, and returning to Elaine all on his own.

“You heard her, Roly,” Timothy said to his slightly indignant servant. “The lady would like you to ride Fellow back home while I drive her. Lainie, do you really want to bring Callie, or should Roly take her to the stables?”

The little dog hopped about around the carriage excitedly, clearly enthusiastic about the trip. Timothy petted her as she leaped up on him.

“She doesn’t bother me,” he said, “but you know my mother.”

“She’ll have to learn to live with the dog. Callie is the touchstone for true love, you know. If she barks at the decisive moment, I won’t marry you,” Elaine said, laughing nervously. “What is it, Roly?” She turned to the unhappy-looking boy standing next to the carriage.

“I don’t know how to ride,” Roly said, his eyes pitiful. “I’ll have to walk the whole way.”

His peevish countenance even cheered Timothy up a little. “Roly, if you can’t ride, you’re already dead,” he informed him, using a slight variation on Elaine’s favorite saying. “I, on the other hand, would be overjoyed if I could walk the two miles. So take the horse home. I don’t care who or what does the carrying or the leading.”

Roly did not dare climb in the saddle and instead walked the two miles through the light rain. By the end of his walk, he was feeling cross. His new suit was wet, and he had missed Mary Flaherty. He had wanted to meet her at the kitchen door and entice her with a few treats from the buffet—in hopes of putting her in a receptive enough mood to exchange a few kisses with him. Then, one of the Webers’ grooms he knew in passing called out to him. The young man waved a bottle of whiskey.

“Come on, Roly, let’s celebrate a bit too. That Mr. Lambert of yours isn’t going to need a nurse tonight!”

In general, Roly was not so irresponsible, but that evening, he left Fellow saddled in front of the house. With the intention of returning to fetch him later, of course. But then he forgot. The gray gelding
waited patiently. Someone would come for him eventually. Until that time came, he snoozed in the misting rain. No one paid any attention to him until he received some company—much later.

After the sixtieth or seventieth guest had been led past the young couple and greeted with a few words, Timothy almost began to long for his wheelchair. Whose bright idea had it been to have them stand in the salon for hours greeting each and every guest with a handshake? His mother called it a “reception line.” Until that evening, Elaine had thought such things only happened in royal courts. Though for her it was merely boring, for Timothy it was very tiring. He cast envious looks at Callie, who was curled up behind them on the carpet and sleeping soundly.

“How many has it been all together?” Elaine asked, pushing somewhat closer to him. She hoped that he might be able to support himself on her, but in reality she was too petite for that.

“Almost one hundred and fifty. Pure nonsense,” Timothy muttered, forcing himself to smile for the Weber family. When Florence floated in on Caleb’s arm, Caleb lavished words of gratitude on Elaine. He described vividly the heavy stone that had been lifted from his heart when he had heard that she would be standing in for him at Kura’s concert.

“Never remove the stone from a geologist’s heart,” Timothy joked wearily when the couple finally moved on. “He’ll analyze every detail of what it consists of, why you were able to remove it, and how many component parts it contained.”

Fortunately, the next guests to arrive were Matt and Charlene—the latter wearing a ravishing green dress, another of Mrs. O’Brien’s creations—followed by Kura and William. Thankfully, all were feeling more hungry than talkative.

“Where is the buffet?” Kura asked. The time she had spent on the road had taught her never to turn down a free meal. William plied her with champagne, and Elaine and Timothy turned to the next guests.
As luck would have it, not all the guests arrived right on time. When the receiving room stood empty for a few minutes, Timothy decided to put an end to his suffering. He sat down with relief in one of the armchairs in the salon.

“I need to rest up a bit before the dance,” he murmured, scratching Callie, while Elaine went to get some champagne.

Elaine pushed her way through the crowd to the buffet, which was set up in the study, chatting briefly with Charlene and Kura and thanking several guests for the compliments they paid her. Though everything seemed to be in order, she nevertheless felt a vague sense of unease. Perhaps, she thought, it was too much like a fairy tale. She knew all too well that she would be forced to snap back to reality the next morning in front of the constable. Elaine smiled at the sheriff and the justice of the peace, who happily returned her greeting. For now.

Glasses of champagne in hand, Elaine began to make her way back to Timothy—and that was when she spotted the tall gray-haired man who was entering the salon with Marvin Lambert. The sight of him turned her to stone. Every instinct told her to run. But no, that was absurd; she must be mistaken. It simply could not be. She shouldn’t recklessly take flight. No, she had better get a closer look first and assure herself that there was no way it could be John Sideblossom.