“Twenty-two,” Norcross replied.
Lady Mansfield ran her finger down the list in her hand, then set it aside and pulled the appropriate sheets of music from folders in a cupboard. She handed half the stack to the person on her left, the other half to the person on her right, and the papers went around the room until everyone had a copy.
Ashley was surprised to see the children’s nursery rhyme,Frère Jacques. First they played and sang it in English asBrother John, then a second time with the French lyrics.
“Count off by fives so we can sing it as a catch,” Lady Templeton directed. She pointed to herself and said “One.” She looked at the person to her left who counted two, the next person three, and so on around the room. With fourteen people present, Ashley discovered she and Ravencroft were the only fives.
To add to the delightful confusion of sound when they sang it as a catch, some of the groups sang French lyrics and some in English. She and Ravencroft were the last voices to join in. She wasn’t sure which she was going to sing until she saw his lips form the letterF.She heard his confident baritone with a lovely French accent, distinctly different from Mr. Westbrook’s baritone and Lord Mansfield’s bass. As the last group to sing the last phrase, she and Ravencroft sang a duet for the sound of the bells. Instead of singing words with her, though, he imitated the sound of a bell with a rich “bom bom bom.”
Ashley had to pinch the skin beside her knee to keep from grinning with pleasure like an idiot.
“First challenge,” Lady Templeton said. “Turn the music upside down and play it again.”
There was much laughter as the musicians complied. The music was delightful and unexpected, with only a few discordant notes.
“Second challenge,” Parker said, “same music, played in the correct order … with your other hand.”
Westbrook, Ravencroft, Deirdre, Lady Mansfield, and Lady Templeton switched their bow or instrument to their other hand, and Melissa held her flute out to her left. Georgia held her hands on her lap instead of on the keyboard.
They began to play and it was … not awful, but nowhere near the skill level they had previously exhibited. More like first-year students. They laughed at themselves as well as each other, and no one seemed to have hurt feelings.
Lord Templeton issued the next challenge. “Everyone, move two seats to your left. Instruments stay where they are.”
More laughter and grumbling as everyone shuffled to their next seat. Ashley was confident she could acquit herself at the pianoforte as she often played the simple song for a warmup.
“No cheating, Lydia,” Ravencroft called to his sister, who was struggling to balance the viola da gamba and held the bow overhand, as one would for a violin.
She blew out a huff of air and pointed the tip of the bow at him. “Then come show me how you hold this ancient thing. It was old when Purcell wrote his last song.”
Ravencroft got up from his new seat on the sofa and helped his sister adjust her feet—heels together, toes out—to balance the large instrument on her calves and hold the bow underhanded. Lady Templeton drew the bow across all seven strings, one at a time, and screeched twice. Ravencroft gave an exaggerated flinch at each screech.
“Go sit down, you oaf,” she muttered.
Ravencroft sat down again, the left side of his mouth tilted up in a smile.
At last they played again, and Ashley was pleased she got through it without stumbling, even though it had been months since she’d practiced this song. Not everyone could play the instrument they found themselves at, though everyone certainly made noise. Lady Templeton only played about a third of the notes on the viola da gamba.
Two maids entered with tea trays on rolling carts, including two blue teapots with hot tea, and two cabbage rose teapots with the cool honey-lemon tea. In addition to the expected little pastries, there were cheeses, nuts, and fruits to sustain one for the arduous entertainment. Family members teased each other about their musical talents—or lack thereof—as everyone sorted out getting drinks and filling a plate.
Ashley soaked it all in, cherishing the feeling of being part of a large family, however temporary, however illusionary. She would store up this feeling of belonging, to have it to pull out and remember when she was alone, wrinkled and graying. A spinster.
Lady Bedford issued the next challenge after everyone had fortified themselves. “Play it,” she commanded, “but without any instruments at all.”
How could one play without an instrument? All of the musicians sat back in their seats, hands on their knees, instruments set aside.
Moments later Ashley had her answer. Westbrook and Lord Mansfield whistled, Ravencroft made his voice sound like he was plucking a double bass, Georgia and Melissa sang wordlessly, like an opera aria; and several others were humming.
Just as they had finished, a redheaded boy of about six wearing a nightshirt appeared in the music room doorway, his breathless governess skidding to a halt behind him a few seconds later.
“What is it, Matthew?” Lady Mansfield said.
“Uncle David is here, but he hasn’t come up to say good night yet.”
“My most humble apologies, lad,” Ravencroft said, rising from his chair. “I quite lost track of the time.” He strode across the room as Lady Templeton and Lady Mansfield discussed what the next challenge should be.
Ashley followed his dignified progress, and smothered a chuckle when he suddenly ran the last three steps, bent low, and with a deep growl, slung young Matthew over his shoulder and kept on running. Matthew squealed in surprise and giggled madly. Ravencroft’s footsteps thundered down the hall, up the stairs, and faded away, the governess’s lighter steps trailing behind.
After the next challenge—everyone moved another two seats to their left, and Ashley discovered she still couldn’t cleanly finger just one string at a time on a violin—she excused herself to use the retiring room. She was just coming back out to the hall when she heard a short, shrill scream from upstairs.
