Genevieve looked surprised but remained envious. “Still, it must be nice to have that kind of understanding.”
Charlotte didn’t reply, thinking instead of her mother’s indifference. It wasn’t so much understanding as disinterest. Her brother William could do no wrong, while Charlotte often felt like an afterthought. Almost immediately, she shook the uncharitable thought away, reminding herself to be fair. Her mother was simply being practical, not unkind.
The sound of a bell tinkling drew the room’s attention to the pianoforte. Helena Steele had taken her seat, her serene expression betraying no hint of nerves. As her fingers glided over the keys, the room fell silent, the melody weaving a spell over the guests. Charlotte watched with admiration, marveling at Helena’s talent.
Someday, she thought wistfully,I’ll find my own way to shine. But for now, she could only observe from the shadows, where her flaws were less likely to be noticed.
Helena stood, and Mrs. Steele urged the guests to take their seats. Charlotte settled onto one of the cushioned chairs in the Steele drawing room, arranging her skirts to avoid creases. Her mother sat beside her, fanning herself idly. Though perfectly poised as always, Charlotte could tell by the slight downturn of her lips that she was already bored.
Lady Flynn and Genevieve joined them shortly after. Lady Flynn, whose severe expression always seemed on the verge of disapproval, nodded stiffly in greeting before lowering herself into a chair with military precision. Genevieve looked flushed and tense, her gloved hands twisting in her lap. Charlotte gave her a small reassuring smile.
The room was filled with the hum of conversation and the faint tinkling of instruments being tuned. The second performer—a nervous-looking young man with a violin—took the makeshift stage.
The first strains of music filled the air, a lively jig that might have been delightful if not for the performer’s obvious nerves. His bow slipped several times, producing high-pitched squeaks that made Charlotte wince. At the end of his piece, polite applause rippled through the audience, though Lady Flynn sniffed audibly.
The next performance, a harp solo by a pale and delicate debutante, was much better received. Her fingers danced expertly over the strings, producing a melody so ethereal that even Charlotte found herself caught up in it. Lady Flynn’s expression softened briefly, and Genevieve leaned closer to Charlotte.
“I wish I could play like that,” Genevieve whispered, her voice barely audible over the applause.
“You’ll do wonderfully,” Charlotte murmured back, though she could see the doubt in her friend’s eyes.
A series of performances followed, ranging from competent to dreadful. A young lady’s attempt at a Mozart piano sonata was marred by a wrong note that she stubbornly repeated, and a gentleman’s baritone rendition of a Handel aria was woefully flat. Charlotte did her best to applaud, though she caught her mother stifling a yawn behind her fan.
Finally, Genevieve’s name was announced. She blanched and clutched her mother’s hand.
“Do not disgrace the family, Genevieve,” Lady Flynn said in a low, clipped tone.
Charlotte touched her friend’s arm lightly. “You’ll be fine. Just breathe.”
Genevieve gave her a grateful, tremulous smile before rising and making her way to the piano.
The room fell silent as Genevieve took her seat and began to play. The opening notes were soft but steady, and for a moment, Charlotte’s heart swelled with pride for her friend. Yet as the piece progressed, Genevieve’s fingers stumbled on a particularly intricate passage, and a faint tittering came from the back of the room.
Charlotte shot a glare in that direction, willing the rude observers to silence, but Genevieve soldiered on, her determination evident. By the time she finished, the applause was warm and genuine, and Charlotte clapped enthusiastically, hoping her friend would focus on the kindness of the audience rather than her mistake.
When Genevieve returned to her seat, Charlotte whispered, “You did wonderfully.”
Genevieve’s lips pressed together and her eyes betrayed her disappointment. Her mother’s only acknowledgment was a curt nod.
The final performer was Miss Helena Steele once more. She strode to the center of the room with a natural grace, thistime carrying a cello as though it were an extension of herself. Charlotte couldn’t help but admire Helena’s confidence… not to mention her style. Helena was short and redheaded, not the fashionable petite blonde that so many young women aspired to be now, yet she carried herself with little self-consciousness. Of course, Charlotte’s mother thought her brash.
As Helena began to play, the room seemed to hold its breath. The rich, resonant notes of the cello filled the space, creating a melody that was at once haunting and hopeful. Charlotte felt her chest tighten as the music rose and fell, sensing the emotion in each note. If only she had a talent like that; something to make the duke look at her with admiration rather than the easy familiarity that came with being his best friend’s little sister.
Around the room, she noticed other guests dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs. Even Lady Fitzgerald appeared moved, her fan momentarily forgotten in her lap.
When Helena finished, the applause was thunderous. Charlotte clapped until her hands stung, and even Lady Flynn offered a stiff, reluctant clap.
“Too much drama for my taste,” Lady Flynn muttered. “These lowborn upstarts do love to show off, don’t they?”
Charlotte bit her tongue, unwilling to cause a scene, but the comment rankled her. Helena Steele might not have been born into theton,but her talent and grace surpassed those of many of its members in Charlotte’s opinion.
After the performances concluded, the guests rose to mingle once more. Helena was quickly surrounded by admirers, all clamoring to compliment her and ask about her music. Charlotte caught a glimpse of her glowing smile but decided against joining the throng. Instead, she gravitated toward Genevieve, who was hovering by the refreshments table with a glass of lemonade.
“You were splendid, truly,” Charlotte said, hoping to lift her friend’s spirits.
Genevieve gave a small shrug. “It was adequate, I suppose. Mother will say I should have practiced more.”
“You did your best, and it was lovely.”
