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Chatsworth
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Beautiful Celebrations: Part 3 of 5
Hey ladies: Thank you for enjoying these snapshots with me. I've really enjoyed writing them. It's been fun doing these one-shots. I can't quite help myself when it comes to avoiding narrative, either---it's sneaking its way in here.
Nikki requested a scene with Elizabeth teaching, and I've managed that. Lily, there's Tye and Georgie here, and more of them to come in my post next Sunday (we'll skip ahead a few years the next time Tye's on the scene). Karentea, I've managed your request about Lizzie and Darcy's adoption process, that will be my mid-week post (aiming for Wednesday). I'm also running into a time crunch, so next weekend's posting (part 5 of 5) will be my finale for this fic-let. I've enjoyed going back to these characters. Thank you all for sharing your thoughts!
Begin Archiving!
D. Lessons
Elizabeth had everything she needed for her afternoon: the music, the lesson plan, the tools.
There was just one thing missing: a pianist.
These past few years, the British Opera House's general director had been generous enough to allow her charity to conduct once-weekly classes in one of the smaller, unused rehearsal spaces. Her usual pianist, Frida, had called in sick. It wouldn't be so critical—she could teach to taped music—but today's student, Kelly, would be taking her very first lesson. The child was blind; she would be relying only on hearing and touch.
Elizabeth wanted to offer her little student the joy of live music, darn it. The opera house was crammed with musicians. Surely she could track one down to help her.
The pianist who played for the corps de ballet's morning class was booked on the main stage for the afternoon, playing for one of Tilney's rehearsals. Every orchestra member she could track down was busy. She asked five other musicians in the course of the afternoon. Each one of them said no.
She ran halfway around the opera house praying for a pianist, only for God to deliver one right to her doorstep.
Her rehearsal space, when she returned to it, wasn't empty. There was a youth at the piano. It was the gold-haired, dark-eyed son of Mansfield Park. He hadn't been seen at the British Opera House in years. The opera house's many attempts to woo him back here as a headlining performer had always rebuffed.
There was no sheet music in front of him. He didn't need it. He played from memory, notes singing out in quick, fluid succession.
And how he plays...
At last he paused, looked up.
“Ah.” A chagrined smile played at his mouth. He noticed her clothing—the leotard and tights. A ballerina. That was his cue to exit, then. “Sorry. I've never been very good at noticing when I have an audience. You're probably waiting to use this place. My apologies.”
“Tye,” she said as he pushed from his seat, “it's Elizabeth Darcy.”
The name made him pause. His dark gaze landed on her. At last, he laughed. “No kidding.”
She held out her hand. “Do you remember me? I'm Will's wife.”
Something sparked in his dark eyes. “Do you go by---Lizzie, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Right. I remember now. Georgiana writes about you. I've heard quite a few of her stories. She's convinced that you're the most remarkable woman she's ever met.”
“Oh, no!” Elizabeth laughed. “I always thought it was just—loads about Bach and Beethoven in those letters she sent you.”
“Oh, there's plenty of that too.” A warm smile was softening his mouth. Sobriety suited him. His skin held a healthy tan. There was new, strong muscle on his frame. He looks so young, she thought. More boyish than he'd ever looked a handful of years back. “It's been a few years, Mrs Darcy. I didn't really remember your face. There are so many dancers here, I hadn't---”
“It's fine. There's no reason you ought to know me.”
“I should, though. Georgiana's a friend. I should recognize her family on sight.” He gestured toward the door. “Anyway, I was here to visit Edmund. There are a few kinks in my newest composition, and I had a few hours free, and I thought---well, Ed said this room might be free.”
“It is. Or at least it will be until 4:00. Tye,” She took a breath. “you play the piano...”
Tye laughed. “When I can't get my hands on a violin, sure.”
“I know I have no right to ask this of you, but—um....what are you doing for the next two hours?”
**
Elizabeth sat on the floor by the barre. Her student, a nine year old child with honey white hair, sat with her. Kelly was shy, and nervous, and worried about not being within arm's reach of her cane.
She had trouble with spacial awareness, trouble with balance and coordination.
For now, they would begin on the floor, simply talking. Nerves set in when the moment Kelly's mother left.
Tye lifted one hand. Music?
Elizabeth shook her head. Not yet. She studied Kelly's nervous gulps. She wanted the child to grow comfortable with the sounds of the room, and the feel of it.
“It's always exciting to have a new student,” Elizabeth said, “It always gives me butterflies.”
Kelly managed a shy smile. Her head ducked.
“When I first started dancing, I was always nervous about other people watching me. Right now, it's only you and me here, and our pianist. He's a lad named Tye. But Tye's promised me that he won't even notice us. He'll play when I ask him, but we can do as we please.”
"Oh," whispered Kelly.
“We're in a small room,” Elizabeth continued softly, “longer than it is wide. There are two great windows at one end. Why don't we move closer to those so we can sit in the sunlight? It's nice and warm over there.”
They settled where the barre ended, in the sunlight. Elizabeth had her run her hands along the grain of the polished floor. Then they pressed their hands to the mirror glass.
“If i can't see in it, how will I know what I'll do wrong?” Kelly whispered.
“Ah there's the question of a true dancer,” Elizabeth said, “ballerinas have just the same worry when they first get on the stage. There's no mirror in a live performance. You've only own body to guide you. I'll teach you how to do without it, Kelly, I promise.”
Teaching a blind student required different tools, but the base of it was the same. She started with hands and feet. The barre would be Kelly's anchor, serving to steady her when her cane couldn't. They tried stretches, then plies, then simple tendus in all five positions.
“That's it, Kelly, beautiful. Toes pointed, arch of your foot curved. Pretend that the tip of your toes is an oar and you're pushing yourself out to sea.” Elizabeth knelt, placing her hand on the ground. “Push out until your foot touches my hand. And now...draw back...wonderful.”
The comment made Kelly beam. “Really?”
“I swear it. You're a natural.”
The cascade of gentle notes from the piano nearly took Lizzie's breath away. She'd only asked for background music. He'd given her that and much more than it. He sank into sonatas, turning them into lullabies, sweet and tender.
If not for the reverberation from the piano, she would have thought it a recording. In all her years in the opera house, all the many piano concertos she'd heard performed live, she'd only heard playing of this skill level neared by one other person: her own sister-in-law, Georgiana.
“Need me to change keys, Lizzie?” Tye asked.
“No, thank you, Tye.” Elizabeth stood, touching the barre. “He's a fine player, isn't he Kelly?”
Kelly offered a small smile. “As pretty as the music from a Disney movie.”
Tye's laugh was kind. Of all the compliments he'd received, that was a new favorite. “I also take requests.”
It turned out Tye, courtesy of having a very young half-sister, knew all Kelly's favorites: every song from every princess-themed film that Kelly could think to ask for.
Kelly, her nerves forgotten, giggled when Elizabeth guided her into simply having fun for the remainder of the lesson. Twirling, giggling, laughing, these were the cool-down activities Kelly's mother arrived to watch.
“I've never heard Kelly laugh so much around strangers,” Mrs. Vanwer remarked.
“Mummy,” Kelly, reached out, taking her mother's arm. The girl's small cheeks were flushed with excitement. “Can I come back again?”
“Same time, if it suits you,” Elizabeth confirmed with a smile. “We can keep with the princess theme. Next time we'll try curtsies.”
“Goodbye! And thank you!”
It was only when Kelly and Mrs. Vanwer had departed that Elizabeth allowed herself to press her hands to her cheeks. They were damp.
“That's a nice thing you did.” Tye stood, digging into his jean pockets. “You alright?”
“Yes. I'm just--” she let out an emotional breath, “happy for her. Thank you for your generosity, Tye. I really can't say it enough. If there's anything I can do to thank you...”
“There might be one thing." He moved around the piano. “Could you pass on a message to Georgiana. Tell her I've enjoyed her letters?”
“Well..." Elizabeth hesitated." "She's coming to my home for supper tonight. Why don't you come with me and tell her yourself?”
**
Supper, as it happened, was already in process when Elizabeth arrived home. There was a roast in the oven, and vegetables ready, and some sort of rice dish that, given the mess on the counter, had involved many of the ingredients that remained in the fridge.
“Will,” she shrugged off her coat. She discarded both that and her purse in a nearby chair, “did your trial hearing end early?”
“No.” Will approached, offering her a welcome-home kiss. “This is all Georgie. It was a work in progress when I got here.”
She laughed. “Truly?”
He was a breath away from kissing her again when she halted him, “where's your sister now?”
“In the bathroom." Will frowned. "Why?”
“Because I brought someone home for supper.”
“Love, you make it sound like a stray dog.” He stole another kiss. “Who is it? Charlotte?”
“No, love, it's not Charlotte.”
“Frank Churchill? Frank's not my favorite guy, Lizzie, but I endure him for you.”
“Would you? Mo chori...it's not quite Frank, either."
There was a rumble in his throat. “It's not my aunt, is it? I don't care what she tells you, we don't owe her a single pound...”
“No, it's not your aunty.” She tiptoed, distracting him with another kiss. “It's Tye Bertram.”
“It's—what?”
“Okay, Will--but it's the least I could do. Frida canceled at the last minute. I ran into Tye at the opera house, and one thing led to another...and he played two whole hours! Kelly's whole dance lesson!”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Why?”
"Because it was a nice thing to do." She pulled back from his arms. "If you can't see that for what it is, then---then I'll have to tell him my husband is too rude to share a single meal with him. I thought we were done with judgments that were set in stone, you and I.”
"I--" he took a breath. Bloody hell, he couldn't argue with that. “I don't like him.”
“I know, Will. But...” she shrugged, “Georgie does. Maybe it's time to try and figure out why.”
"You know how grateful I am that you're never my opposing counsel?" He reached for her, drawing her close again. “I'll bring him up here myself. Where's he waiting?”
“The lobby.” Her mouth brushed his. “Thank you, Will.”
“One of us,” Will murmured, “will have to go warn Georgie.”
“Warn me about what?”
Slowly, the pair pulled away from one another. Elizabeth's fingers knotted together. “Georgie, we've—there's someone coming for dinner.”
One more person for dinner? Georgiana hoped they didn't expect much from her. She'd cooked supper, after all, wasn't that asking enough of her? She'd already scrubbed off her makeup and put spot cream on her cheeks. She'd found her reading glasses. The sweatpants she wore were faded and stretched. Her post-supper plans for the night involved eating ice cream.
“Who's coming?” She leaned against the counter. “Anne and Fred?”
"Well, if it's Charlotte and Bill Collins, I just hope Mr. Collins doesn't ask me to--"
“Georgie,” Will interrupted, “It's Tye Bertram.”
Georgiana snorted. “Oh, very funny.”
“Georgie, he's quite serious. I ran into Tye downtown, and...” Elizabeth hesitated, “he ended up doing me a favor. He served as my pianist for my afternoon class. I'm repaying him with dinner.”
“I—but--” She shook her head, dizzy and dazed. “He's really downstairs?”
“Yes, Georgie. In the lobby.”
“How could...he's not...”
Tye? Here? Now? Her heart started racing. Why hadn't he told her he was in London? Why hadn't Will warned her? Why had she scrubbed off her makeup already? Why had no one warned her? Oh, why hadn't Elizabeth pounded on the bathroom door and said...she might have said---
“I'll go downstairs,” Will said crisply, "bring him up here."
“Oh my gosh, Will," Georgiana blurted out, "don't you dare.”
“But--”
“Not yet—not yet! I need ten minutes. Geeze.” The girl darted for the bathroom. “Where's my make up bag?! Where are my contacts! I have nothing to wear. What am I going to wear? Ugh, all my clothes are dreadful!”
Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “I'll help her. Go downstairs to Tye. I'll text you when she's ready.”
**
He'd accepted that his would be a life filled with sisters. There was dear, opinionated Mariah, wry, quiet Julia. Little Lynnie, his half-sister, the new apple of his eye.
Somehow, over the last few years, Georgiana Darcy had ended up getting herself added to that list. Another would-be sister in his life.
Through letters, he'd coached her through the prospect of performing for others the way he'd coached Mariah during her brief stint at piano lessons. He'd debated Beethoven with Georgie the same way he would have with Julia---honestly and frankly. He worried about people using her the way he knew that he'd eventually worry about Lynnie.
It was the simplest friendship he'd ever experienced, completely devoid of complications.
If Lizzie's dinner offer meant visiting Georgie too, than why not say yes? Even if it did mean sitting down at a table with one Will Darcy—that idea made him tug at his collar the moment he stepped in the door---he could still manage it.
“Are you thirsty?” Will questioned, swinging the refrigerator door open. “We have water, tea, soda...”
Subtly done. Tye doubted that the Darcys maintained a completely dry kitchen, but Will hadn't made him uncomfortable by offering more than that. “Soda's fine.”
He pulled out the bottle, twisting it open. “Georgiana didn't mention you were in town.”
“I didn't mention it to her. I wasn't even sure I'd be coming until a few weeks ago. My agent was discussing a booking on the continent. I wasn't sure if I'd say yes.”
Will nodded, handing him the drink. “But you chose to do it.”
“Only because La Scala met my condition. No press. They can put me on the poster, but--” He let out a breath. “I just want to pick up the violin and play. Anything more stressful than that----I'm not sure I'm ready for it.”
Dark, unreadable eyes met his. “That seems a wise decision.”
It was the first remark even remotely near a compliment that Darcy had ever offered him. No follow-up asides. Just a frank answer. Honestly, Tye wasn't sure what to make of it.
“Look, Mr. Bertram--”
“Tye,” he corrected with a wince.
“Tye,” Will said. “I know that you and I haven't always been on good footing.”
“No.” Tye's mouth hardened. “That was my fault, for the record. I was drunk more than I was sober when we first met. I'm not proud of that part of my life.”
“Yes, well, I have Georgiana's assurances that you've put that part of your life behind you. We all have moments in our life we're not proud of, Tye.”
“Some of us more than others.”
“Regardless, it sounds like you've learned from yours.” Will paused. He'd never expected to look at young Tye Bertram and see any part of himself---but he did now. The regrets were different, but the persistent self-reproach was the same. “We can only learn from the past and move beyond it, Tye. It sounds like you're doing that.”
“Trying.” Tye's gaze met Will's. “Thanks for saying it, though.”
“It sounds like it deserves to be said.”
“Tye!”
Georgiana was rushing towards him. He hadn't expected her to look exactly the same. There was a big gap between fourteen and sixteen. He remembered he'd grown inches and inches at that age.
Those girlish features of hers were slowly maturing into a young woman's face. She wasn't there yet, but in two or three years, perhaps, she'd finish growing into those Darcy features. Her brown curls were pulled into a plait. She wore a burgundy day dress, with capped sleeves and a hem that touched her knees. The makeup was new: rose gloss on her lips.
She looked sweet, precisely her age, sixteen and no older.
Tye greeted her with a grin. “It's good to see you, Georgie.”
“You are back!” He would have offered her a simple handshake, just as he'd offered to Will. Instead she bolted for him, charging him with a hug. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“Easy,” he untangled from her with a laugh. “It was a last minute trip.”
“But you should have—you might have---” Georgiana shook her head, breathless. “I can't believe you're here.”
“Your family was nice enough to host me for dinner.”
“Yes, I hope Will hasn't given you a hard time while you waited for me.”
“He's been fine, Georgie,” said Tye.
It was strange for Tye, not just saying those words, but actually meaning them. Will Darcy, a decent guy for the length of an evening.
Elizabeth moved around the pair, linking fingers with her husband.
“Georgie's a grand cook, Tye,” said Elizabeth. “There's a roast in the oven. What do you say we head to the dinner table and dig in?”
**
For Georgiana, dinner passed too quickly. Nerves—and Will and Lizzie's presence---meant she was only brave enough to speak a handful of her inquiries: how long would he be here, was he moving back to England?
He was still teaching in snow Canada. The department head kept begging him to expand his course load, to give lectures, to start touring.
“But you have no interest in that?” asked Will.
Tye's laugh was short. He set down his fork, reaching for a napkin. “With all due respect, Mr. Darcy, if I wanted that, I'd be teaching at Cambridge. Anonymity's new to me. I'm set on enjoy it for a few more years. Besides, the free time's giving me a chance to compose.”
He's not Peter Pan anymore, thought Georgiana. He knows himself now. He knows what he wants.
And then Tye brushed a lock of shining blond hair back from his eyes, sent a distracted smile her way, and she forgot to breathe, much less think.
“Are you enjoying Canada, Tye?”
“Yeah, I have to admit I am. I like the lack of pretensions. No lords, or ladies or any of it. Mostly people don't know who I am, and those who do know don't seem to care much.” He took another bite of his roast. “Of course, as much as I love Grace Jennings, bunking at her house comes with a few conditions I could do without. But I work around it.”
Will picked up his wine glass, taking a sip. His right hand slid over to his wife's shoulder, resting there. “And Grace is?”
“My mentor, and an old friend.”
“What are her conditions?” asked Elizabeth.
Tye actually blushed. “They're more like—suggestions. She keeps trying to set me up with her granddaughters. Carolina's eighteen, and Charlotte's twenty-one. Nice enough girls.”
The color drained from Georgiana's face. Perhaps noticing it, Elizabeth spoke quickly, “Well, you're young yet, Tye. It's always nice to get to know new people, right?”
“Ah, Lina's too young for me. And Charlotte's really...” a laugh slipped out of him, “well, she's exactly like her mum. You can hear her coming from a mile down the road. Grace is pretty set on having Lottie married off. I love Grace a lot, but the truth is, I'm not looking to date Lottie or Lina, or any one else. Not at this point in my life. I've been clear with her on that.”
“Well, that's good,” Elizabeth said softly. “We're big believers of being honest with people in this household.”
“Yeah, me too.” Looking eager to change topics, he cleared his throat. “Georgie, I never knew you liked to cook. When did that interest take hold?”
“Hm?” She was nearly too distracted with thoughts of him around two mystery girls named Lina and Lottie to answer. Were they very beautiful? Were they charming and witty? Lina especially worried her. She wasn't that much older than Georgie herself. Too young, he said, but maybe he wouldn't feel that way in a year, or two years.
Seriously Georgie, she thought to herself, you have to pull yourself together.
“Oh, well, recently, I guess. I like it. I like activities that use my hands.”
“Right,” he grinned, “that's evident. Few cooks can play the octave jumps in Franz Liszt's Rondo Fantastique.”
A shy blush brightened her cheeks. “I still have trouble with that piece.”
“Is it the tempo that's the problem?”
“That and the trills.”
“I could help you work through that.” His dark eyes scanned the room. “No piano?”
“There's one in Will's office,” Elizabeth remarked. “It's a very small one, squeezed in by the window, but it works. Why don't you two try it out?”
Will, thank heaven, was saying nothing.
Her brother looked remarkably relaxed, though from time to time he glanced from Georgiana, then to Tye, and then back again, with some conclusion in his eyes. Maybe he was simply being quiet for Georgie's sake—she invited so few guests over. Maybe it was something Elizabeth had said before Tye's arrival. Or maybe it was simply the wine his wife had poured into his glass, and her hand rubbing gently at his knee.
Whatever it was, he wasn't embarrassing her by saying no to the idea.
When dinner cleared out, Georgiana led Tye to the study. It felt like a dream, having him here—seeing him have a civil conversation with her brother, having him eat her food, hearing him even compliment it--
“This is quite a place your brother's got here,” Tye said. He was studying the framed photographs on the wall. He'd stopped at one. It was an old photograph of Elizabeth and Will in Ireland. They were standing together on the bow of a boat. Will was holding Elizabeth's hands tenderly in his. She was looking up at him with a sweet, shy smile, as if Will were the only man in the world worth looking at.
She recognized that photo. It was a memento from Killian and Ginny's wedding, the summer before they'd married.
“Your brother's a lucky man.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. “Yes, Lizzie's so beautiful.”
“Lizzie's a pretty girl. That's not what I meant, though.”
“No?”
Tye moved from the photo, towards the small, upright piano squeezed at the edge of the room. “I don't know your brother and sister-in-law, Georgie, not really. But after sitting with them at dinner, even I can see they're crazy about each other. That's rare, at least in my family.” Tye settled at the piano. “Take a seat, Georgie. Let's see if they keep this baby in tune.”
She settled beside him at the piano bench. The practice commenced. She tried to pretend she was back at Bardwell, and this was just another lesson. Every time Tye's hand brushed against hers, every time he corrected her placement or reached across her to play a trill, lightning raced through her.
Tye remained oblivious to it. He spoke about movement in the hands verses the stability in the wrists. He talked about dynamics and pacing. He never stopped to look in the sixteen year old's eyes. He never softened his voice to anything less than a firm, informative voice.
It wasn't romantic at all. But oh, she wanted it to be.
At the end of the lesson, when the sheet music was put aside, both stood. “I hope you're having some fun at Bardwell, Georgie. You've kept up your friendships?”
“Oh, yes. Margaret's still my best friend, and my friend Janey, she's a flutist, and--”
“How's that fellow Ewan treating you?”
The name made her freeze. She'd written about him in so many letters, named so many of her friends. Ewan must have been the one name that came up most. She'd never said the word boyfriend. Clearly, he'd put two and two together.
A grin broke across his mouth. “You don't have to talk about it, Georgie. I don't want to embarrass you. I just hope the young guy's treating you right.”
“It's just--” she shook her head. Her heart was racing. “Ewan's been nothing but kind to me.”
“I hope so. From your stories, he's really smitten with you, Georgie.”
“Yes, but he's not--” Georgiana hesitated. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. He's not you.
“How old is this Ewan?”
“My age. Sixteen.”
“Well, here's a word of advice from a friend. Don't be too hard on those sixteen year old boys. They have a lot of growing to do. Be grateful he had the guts to go up to you at all. Girls are very intimidating at his age. I probably wouldn't have had the courage.”
“You--” At least her brown gaze did meet his. “Tye, I don't think you had a shy day in all your life. Particularly around women.”
“Believe me, I caught up quickly.” He rubbed his cheek ruefully, glancing away from her. “But, if your descriptions are anything to go by, I was probably more like your Ewan at that age than you reckon.”
“I--” she was speechless. Impossible. By his late teens, he'd already romanced the stunning lingerie model, Emma Woodhouse. By twenty, he was one of London's most eligible bachelors. Women around the world wanted him. “I can't imagine it.”
“Well, I still remember it.” Tye laughed. “I had a big growth spurt at the end of my sixteenth year. Everything changed---my body, my height, my shoe size. Just some advice from a friend, Georgie. People change.”
Advice from a friend. It wasn't all that she wanted from him, but it was still what he was to her. A friend.
Georgiana, she told herself as she led him out of the study, Be happy with that.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/26/2016 09:14PM by Amy I..
Nikki requested a scene with Elizabeth teaching, and I've managed that. Lily, there's Tye and Georgie here, and more of them to come in my post next Sunday (we'll skip ahead a few years the next time Tye's on the scene). Karentea, I've managed your request about Lizzie and Darcy's adoption process, that will be my mid-week post (aiming for Wednesday). I'm also running into a time crunch, so next weekend's posting (part 5 of 5) will be my finale for this fic-let. I've enjoyed going back to these characters. Thank you all for sharing your thoughts!
Begin Archiving!
D. Lessons
Elizabeth had everything she needed for her afternoon: the music, the lesson plan, the tools.
There was just one thing missing: a pianist.
These past few years, the British Opera House's general director had been generous enough to allow her charity to conduct once-weekly classes in one of the smaller, unused rehearsal spaces. Her usual pianist, Frida, had called in sick. It wouldn't be so critical—she could teach to taped music—but today's student, Kelly, would be taking her very first lesson. The child was blind; she would be relying only on hearing and touch.
Elizabeth wanted to offer her little student the joy of live music, darn it. The opera house was crammed with musicians. Surely she could track one down to help her.
The pianist who played for the corps de ballet's morning class was booked on the main stage for the afternoon, playing for one of Tilney's rehearsals. Every orchestra member she could track down was busy. She asked five other musicians in the course of the afternoon. Each one of them said no.
She ran halfway around the opera house praying for a pianist, only for God to deliver one right to her doorstep.
Her rehearsal space, when she returned to it, wasn't empty. There was a youth at the piano. It was the gold-haired, dark-eyed son of Mansfield Park. He hadn't been seen at the British Opera House in years. The opera house's many attempts to woo him back here as a headlining performer had always rebuffed.
There was no sheet music in front of him. He didn't need it. He played from memory, notes singing out in quick, fluid succession.
And how he plays...
At last he paused, looked up.
“Ah.” A chagrined smile played at his mouth. He noticed her clothing—the leotard and tights. A ballerina. That was his cue to exit, then. “Sorry. I've never been very good at noticing when I have an audience. You're probably waiting to use this place. My apologies.”
“Tye,” she said as he pushed from his seat, “it's Elizabeth Darcy.”
The name made him pause. His dark gaze landed on her. At last, he laughed. “No kidding.”
She held out her hand. “Do you remember me? I'm Will's wife.”
Something sparked in his dark eyes. “Do you go by---Lizzie, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Right. I remember now. Georgiana writes about you. I've heard quite a few of her stories. She's convinced that you're the most remarkable woman she's ever met.”
“Oh, no!” Elizabeth laughed. “I always thought it was just—loads about Bach and Beethoven in those letters she sent you.”
“Oh, there's plenty of that too.” A warm smile was softening his mouth. Sobriety suited him. His skin held a healthy tan. There was new, strong muscle on his frame. He looks so young, she thought. More boyish than he'd ever looked a handful of years back. “It's been a few years, Mrs Darcy. I didn't really remember your face. There are so many dancers here, I hadn't---”
“It's fine. There's no reason you ought to know me.”
“I should, though. Georgiana's a friend. I should recognize her family on sight.” He gestured toward the door. “Anyway, I was here to visit Edmund. There are a few kinks in my newest composition, and I had a few hours free, and I thought---well, Ed said this room might be free.”
“It is. Or at least it will be until 4:00. Tye,” She took a breath. “you play the piano...”
Tye laughed. “When I can't get my hands on a violin, sure.”
“I know I have no right to ask this of you, but—um....what are you doing for the next two hours?”
**
Elizabeth sat on the floor by the barre. Her student, a nine year old child with honey white hair, sat with her. Kelly was shy, and nervous, and worried about not being within arm's reach of her cane.
She had trouble with spacial awareness, trouble with balance and coordination.
For now, they would begin on the floor, simply talking. Nerves set in when the moment Kelly's mother left.
Tye lifted one hand. Music?
Elizabeth shook her head. Not yet. She studied Kelly's nervous gulps. She wanted the child to grow comfortable with the sounds of the room, and the feel of it.
“It's always exciting to have a new student,” Elizabeth said, “It always gives me butterflies.”
Kelly managed a shy smile. Her head ducked.
“When I first started dancing, I was always nervous about other people watching me. Right now, it's only you and me here, and our pianist. He's a lad named Tye. But Tye's promised me that he won't even notice us. He'll play when I ask him, but we can do as we please.”
"Oh," whispered Kelly.
“We're in a small room,” Elizabeth continued softly, “longer than it is wide. There are two great windows at one end. Why don't we move closer to those so we can sit in the sunlight? It's nice and warm over there.”
They settled where the barre ended, in the sunlight. Elizabeth had her run her hands along the grain of the polished floor. Then they pressed their hands to the mirror glass.
“If i can't see in it, how will I know what I'll do wrong?” Kelly whispered.
“Ah there's the question of a true dancer,” Elizabeth said, “ballerinas have just the same worry when they first get on the stage. There's no mirror in a live performance. You've only own body to guide you. I'll teach you how to do without it, Kelly, I promise.”
Teaching a blind student required different tools, but the base of it was the same. She started with hands and feet. The barre would be Kelly's anchor, serving to steady her when her cane couldn't. They tried stretches, then plies, then simple tendus in all five positions.
“That's it, Kelly, beautiful. Toes pointed, arch of your foot curved. Pretend that the tip of your toes is an oar and you're pushing yourself out to sea.” Elizabeth knelt, placing her hand on the ground. “Push out until your foot touches my hand. And now...draw back...wonderful.”
The comment made Kelly beam. “Really?”
“I swear it. You're a natural.”
The cascade of gentle notes from the piano nearly took Lizzie's breath away. She'd only asked for background music. He'd given her that and much more than it. He sank into sonatas, turning them into lullabies, sweet and tender.
If not for the reverberation from the piano, she would have thought it a recording. In all her years in the opera house, all the many piano concertos she'd heard performed live, she'd only heard playing of this skill level neared by one other person: her own sister-in-law, Georgiana.
“Need me to change keys, Lizzie?” Tye asked.
“No, thank you, Tye.” Elizabeth stood, touching the barre. “He's a fine player, isn't he Kelly?”
Kelly offered a small smile. “As pretty as the music from a Disney movie.”
Tye's laugh was kind. Of all the compliments he'd received, that was a new favorite. “I also take requests.”
It turned out Tye, courtesy of having a very young half-sister, knew all Kelly's favorites: every song from every princess-themed film that Kelly could think to ask for.
Kelly, her nerves forgotten, giggled when Elizabeth guided her into simply having fun for the remainder of the lesson. Twirling, giggling, laughing, these were the cool-down activities Kelly's mother arrived to watch.
“I've never heard Kelly laugh so much around strangers,” Mrs. Vanwer remarked.
“Mummy,” Kelly, reached out, taking her mother's arm. The girl's small cheeks were flushed with excitement. “Can I come back again?”
“Same time, if it suits you,” Elizabeth confirmed with a smile. “We can keep with the princess theme. Next time we'll try curtsies.”
“Goodbye! And thank you!”
It was only when Kelly and Mrs. Vanwer had departed that Elizabeth allowed herself to press her hands to her cheeks. They were damp.
“That's a nice thing you did.” Tye stood, digging into his jean pockets. “You alright?”
“Yes. I'm just--” she let out an emotional breath, “happy for her. Thank you for your generosity, Tye. I really can't say it enough. If there's anything I can do to thank you...”
“There might be one thing." He moved around the piano. “Could you pass on a message to Georgiana. Tell her I've enjoyed her letters?”
“Well..." Elizabeth hesitated." "She's coming to my home for supper tonight. Why don't you come with me and tell her yourself?”
**
Supper, as it happened, was already in process when Elizabeth arrived home. There was a roast in the oven, and vegetables ready, and some sort of rice dish that, given the mess on the counter, had involved many of the ingredients that remained in the fridge.
“Will,” she shrugged off her coat. She discarded both that and her purse in a nearby chair, “did your trial hearing end early?”
“No.” Will approached, offering her a welcome-home kiss. “This is all Georgie. It was a work in progress when I got here.”
She laughed. “Truly?”
He was a breath away from kissing her again when she halted him, “where's your sister now?”
“In the bathroom." Will frowned. "Why?”
“Because I brought someone home for supper.”
“Love, you make it sound like a stray dog.” He stole another kiss. “Who is it? Charlotte?”
“No, love, it's not Charlotte.”
“Frank Churchill? Frank's not my favorite guy, Lizzie, but I endure him for you.”
“Would you? Mo chori...it's not quite Frank, either."
There was a rumble in his throat. “It's not my aunt, is it? I don't care what she tells you, we don't owe her a single pound...”
“No, it's not your aunty.” She tiptoed, distracting him with another kiss. “It's Tye Bertram.”
“It's—what?”
“Okay, Will--but it's the least I could do. Frida canceled at the last minute. I ran into Tye at the opera house, and one thing led to another...and he played two whole hours! Kelly's whole dance lesson!”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Why?”
"Because it was a nice thing to do." She pulled back from his arms. "If you can't see that for what it is, then---then I'll have to tell him my husband is too rude to share a single meal with him. I thought we were done with judgments that were set in stone, you and I.”
"I--" he took a breath. Bloody hell, he couldn't argue with that. “I don't like him.”
“I know, Will. But...” she shrugged, “Georgie does. Maybe it's time to try and figure out why.”
"You know how grateful I am that you're never my opposing counsel?" He reached for her, drawing her close again. “I'll bring him up here myself. Where's he waiting?”
“The lobby.” Her mouth brushed his. “Thank you, Will.”
“One of us,” Will murmured, “will have to go warn Georgie.”
“Warn me about what?”
Slowly, the pair pulled away from one another. Elizabeth's fingers knotted together. “Georgie, we've—there's someone coming for dinner.”
One more person for dinner? Georgiana hoped they didn't expect much from her. She'd cooked supper, after all, wasn't that asking enough of her? She'd already scrubbed off her makeup and put spot cream on her cheeks. She'd found her reading glasses. The sweatpants she wore were faded and stretched. Her post-supper plans for the night involved eating ice cream.
“Who's coming?” She leaned against the counter. “Anne and Fred?”
"Well, if it's Charlotte and Bill Collins, I just hope Mr. Collins doesn't ask me to--"
“Georgie,” Will interrupted, “It's Tye Bertram.”
Georgiana snorted. “Oh, very funny.”
“Georgie, he's quite serious. I ran into Tye downtown, and...” Elizabeth hesitated, “he ended up doing me a favor. He served as my pianist for my afternoon class. I'm repaying him with dinner.”
“I—but--” She shook her head, dizzy and dazed. “He's really downstairs?”
“Yes, Georgie. In the lobby.”
“How could...he's not...”
Tye? Here? Now? Her heart started racing. Why hadn't he told her he was in London? Why hadn't Will warned her? Why had she scrubbed off her makeup already? Why had no one warned her? Oh, why hadn't Elizabeth pounded on the bathroom door and said...she might have said---
“I'll go downstairs,” Will said crisply, "bring him up here."
“Oh my gosh, Will," Georgiana blurted out, "don't you dare.”
“But--”
“Not yet—not yet! I need ten minutes. Geeze.” The girl darted for the bathroom. “Where's my make up bag?! Where are my contacts! I have nothing to wear. What am I going to wear? Ugh, all my clothes are dreadful!”
Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “I'll help her. Go downstairs to Tye. I'll text you when she's ready.”
**
He'd accepted that his would be a life filled with sisters. There was dear, opinionated Mariah, wry, quiet Julia. Little Lynnie, his half-sister, the new apple of his eye.
Somehow, over the last few years, Georgiana Darcy had ended up getting herself added to that list. Another would-be sister in his life.
Through letters, he'd coached her through the prospect of performing for others the way he'd coached Mariah during her brief stint at piano lessons. He'd debated Beethoven with Georgie the same way he would have with Julia---honestly and frankly. He worried about people using her the way he knew that he'd eventually worry about Lynnie.
It was the simplest friendship he'd ever experienced, completely devoid of complications.
If Lizzie's dinner offer meant visiting Georgie too, than why not say yes? Even if it did mean sitting down at a table with one Will Darcy—that idea made him tug at his collar the moment he stepped in the door---he could still manage it.
“Are you thirsty?” Will questioned, swinging the refrigerator door open. “We have water, tea, soda...”
Subtly done. Tye doubted that the Darcys maintained a completely dry kitchen, but Will hadn't made him uncomfortable by offering more than that. “Soda's fine.”
He pulled out the bottle, twisting it open. “Georgiana didn't mention you were in town.”
“I didn't mention it to her. I wasn't even sure I'd be coming until a few weeks ago. My agent was discussing a booking on the continent. I wasn't sure if I'd say yes.”
Will nodded, handing him the drink. “But you chose to do it.”
“Only because La Scala met my condition. No press. They can put me on the poster, but--” He let out a breath. “I just want to pick up the violin and play. Anything more stressful than that----I'm not sure I'm ready for it.”
Dark, unreadable eyes met his. “That seems a wise decision.”
It was the first remark even remotely near a compliment that Darcy had ever offered him. No follow-up asides. Just a frank answer. Honestly, Tye wasn't sure what to make of it.
“Look, Mr. Bertram--”
“Tye,” he corrected with a wince.
“Tye,” Will said. “I know that you and I haven't always been on good footing.”
“No.” Tye's mouth hardened. “That was my fault, for the record. I was drunk more than I was sober when we first met. I'm not proud of that part of my life.”
“Yes, well, I have Georgiana's assurances that you've put that part of your life behind you. We all have moments in our life we're not proud of, Tye.”
“Some of us more than others.”
“Regardless, it sounds like you've learned from yours.” Will paused. He'd never expected to look at young Tye Bertram and see any part of himself---but he did now. The regrets were different, but the persistent self-reproach was the same. “We can only learn from the past and move beyond it, Tye. It sounds like you're doing that.”
“Trying.” Tye's gaze met Will's. “Thanks for saying it, though.”
“It sounds like it deserves to be said.”
“Tye!”
Georgiana was rushing towards him. He hadn't expected her to look exactly the same. There was a big gap between fourteen and sixteen. He remembered he'd grown inches and inches at that age.
Those girlish features of hers were slowly maturing into a young woman's face. She wasn't there yet, but in two or three years, perhaps, she'd finish growing into those Darcy features. Her brown curls were pulled into a plait. She wore a burgundy day dress, with capped sleeves and a hem that touched her knees. The makeup was new: rose gloss on her lips.
She looked sweet, precisely her age, sixteen and no older.
Tye greeted her with a grin. “It's good to see you, Georgie.”
“You are back!” He would have offered her a simple handshake, just as he'd offered to Will. Instead she bolted for him, charging him with a hug. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“Easy,” he untangled from her with a laugh. “It was a last minute trip.”
“But you should have—you might have---” Georgiana shook her head, breathless. “I can't believe you're here.”
“Your family was nice enough to host me for dinner.”
“Yes, I hope Will hasn't given you a hard time while you waited for me.”
“He's been fine, Georgie,” said Tye.
It was strange for Tye, not just saying those words, but actually meaning them. Will Darcy, a decent guy for the length of an evening.
Elizabeth moved around the pair, linking fingers with her husband.
“Georgie's a grand cook, Tye,” said Elizabeth. “There's a roast in the oven. What do you say we head to the dinner table and dig in?”
**
For Georgiana, dinner passed too quickly. Nerves—and Will and Lizzie's presence---meant she was only brave enough to speak a handful of her inquiries: how long would he be here, was he moving back to England?
He was still teaching in snow Canada. The department head kept begging him to expand his course load, to give lectures, to start touring.
“But you have no interest in that?” asked Will.
Tye's laugh was short. He set down his fork, reaching for a napkin. “With all due respect, Mr. Darcy, if I wanted that, I'd be teaching at Cambridge. Anonymity's new to me. I'm set on enjoy it for a few more years. Besides, the free time's giving me a chance to compose.”
He's not Peter Pan anymore, thought Georgiana. He knows himself now. He knows what he wants.
And then Tye brushed a lock of shining blond hair back from his eyes, sent a distracted smile her way, and she forgot to breathe, much less think.
“Are you enjoying Canada, Tye?”
“Yeah, I have to admit I am. I like the lack of pretensions. No lords, or ladies or any of it. Mostly people don't know who I am, and those who do know don't seem to care much.” He took another bite of his roast. “Of course, as much as I love Grace Jennings, bunking at her house comes with a few conditions I could do without. But I work around it.”
Will picked up his wine glass, taking a sip. His right hand slid over to his wife's shoulder, resting there. “And Grace is?”
“My mentor, and an old friend.”
“What are her conditions?” asked Elizabeth.
Tye actually blushed. “They're more like—suggestions. She keeps trying to set me up with her granddaughters. Carolina's eighteen, and Charlotte's twenty-one. Nice enough girls.”
The color drained from Georgiana's face. Perhaps noticing it, Elizabeth spoke quickly, “Well, you're young yet, Tye. It's always nice to get to know new people, right?”
“Ah, Lina's too young for me. And Charlotte's really...” a laugh slipped out of him, “well, she's exactly like her mum. You can hear her coming from a mile down the road. Grace is pretty set on having Lottie married off. I love Grace a lot, but the truth is, I'm not looking to date Lottie or Lina, or any one else. Not at this point in my life. I've been clear with her on that.”
“Well, that's good,” Elizabeth said softly. “We're big believers of being honest with people in this household.”
“Yeah, me too.” Looking eager to change topics, he cleared his throat. “Georgie, I never knew you liked to cook. When did that interest take hold?”
“Hm?” She was nearly too distracted with thoughts of him around two mystery girls named Lina and Lottie to answer. Were they very beautiful? Were they charming and witty? Lina especially worried her. She wasn't that much older than Georgie herself. Too young, he said, but maybe he wouldn't feel that way in a year, or two years.
Seriously Georgie, she thought to herself, you have to pull yourself together.
“Oh, well, recently, I guess. I like it. I like activities that use my hands.”
“Right,” he grinned, “that's evident. Few cooks can play the octave jumps in Franz Liszt's Rondo Fantastique.”
A shy blush brightened her cheeks. “I still have trouble with that piece.”
“Is it the tempo that's the problem?”
“That and the trills.”
“I could help you work through that.” His dark eyes scanned the room. “No piano?”
“There's one in Will's office,” Elizabeth remarked. “It's a very small one, squeezed in by the window, but it works. Why don't you two try it out?”
Will, thank heaven, was saying nothing.
Her brother looked remarkably relaxed, though from time to time he glanced from Georgiana, then to Tye, and then back again, with some conclusion in his eyes. Maybe he was simply being quiet for Georgie's sake—she invited so few guests over. Maybe it was something Elizabeth had said before Tye's arrival. Or maybe it was simply the wine his wife had poured into his glass, and her hand rubbing gently at his knee.
Whatever it was, he wasn't embarrassing her by saying no to the idea.
When dinner cleared out, Georgiana led Tye to the study. It felt like a dream, having him here—seeing him have a civil conversation with her brother, having him eat her food, hearing him even compliment it--
“This is quite a place your brother's got here,” Tye said. He was studying the framed photographs on the wall. He'd stopped at one. It was an old photograph of Elizabeth and Will in Ireland. They were standing together on the bow of a boat. Will was holding Elizabeth's hands tenderly in his. She was looking up at him with a sweet, shy smile, as if Will were the only man in the world worth looking at.
She recognized that photo. It was a memento from Killian and Ginny's wedding, the summer before they'd married.
“Your brother's a lucky man.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. “Yes, Lizzie's so beautiful.”
“Lizzie's a pretty girl. That's not what I meant, though.”
“No?”
Tye moved from the photo, towards the small, upright piano squeezed at the edge of the room. “I don't know your brother and sister-in-law, Georgie, not really. But after sitting with them at dinner, even I can see they're crazy about each other. That's rare, at least in my family.” Tye settled at the piano. “Take a seat, Georgie. Let's see if they keep this baby in tune.”
She settled beside him at the piano bench. The practice commenced. She tried to pretend she was back at Bardwell, and this was just another lesson. Every time Tye's hand brushed against hers, every time he corrected her placement or reached across her to play a trill, lightning raced through her.
Tye remained oblivious to it. He spoke about movement in the hands verses the stability in the wrists. He talked about dynamics and pacing. He never stopped to look in the sixteen year old's eyes. He never softened his voice to anything less than a firm, informative voice.
It wasn't romantic at all. But oh, she wanted it to be.
At the end of the lesson, when the sheet music was put aside, both stood. “I hope you're having some fun at Bardwell, Georgie. You've kept up your friendships?”
“Oh, yes. Margaret's still my best friend, and my friend Janey, she's a flutist, and--”
“How's that fellow Ewan treating you?”
The name made her freeze. She'd written about him in so many letters, named so many of her friends. Ewan must have been the one name that came up most. She'd never said the word boyfriend. Clearly, he'd put two and two together.
A grin broke across his mouth. “You don't have to talk about it, Georgie. I don't want to embarrass you. I just hope the young guy's treating you right.”
“It's just--” she shook her head. Her heart was racing. “Ewan's been nothing but kind to me.”
“I hope so. From your stories, he's really smitten with you, Georgie.”
“Yes, but he's not--” Georgiana hesitated. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. He's not you.
“How old is this Ewan?”
“My age. Sixteen.”
“Well, here's a word of advice from a friend. Don't be too hard on those sixteen year old boys. They have a lot of growing to do. Be grateful he had the guts to go up to you at all. Girls are very intimidating at his age. I probably wouldn't have had the courage.”
“You--” At least her brown gaze did meet his. “Tye, I don't think you had a shy day in all your life. Particularly around women.”
“Believe me, I caught up quickly.” He rubbed his cheek ruefully, glancing away from her. “But, if your descriptions are anything to go by, I was probably more like your Ewan at that age than you reckon.”
“I--” she was speechless. Impossible. By his late teens, he'd already romanced the stunning lingerie model, Emma Woodhouse. By twenty, he was one of London's most eligible bachelors. Women around the world wanted him. “I can't imagine it.”
“Well, I still remember it.” Tye laughed. “I had a big growth spurt at the end of my sixteenth year. Everything changed---my body, my height, my shoe size. Just some advice from a friend, Georgie. People change.”
Advice from a friend. It wasn't all that she wanted from him, but it was still what he was to her. A friend.
Georgiana, she told herself as she led him out of the study, Be happy with that.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 09/26/2016 09:14PM by Amy I..
