Page 36 of One Waltz with the Viscount

Self-consciously she touched her hair. At home Selina would often help her pin her hair, both of them enjoying the ritual of brushing through Sarah’s thick locks whilst she sat in front of the small mirror. From childhood they had taken turns to do the other’s hair, and it was one of the thousands of things Sarah missed about her sister now she was gone. Sitting for a few minutes, talking of their plans for the day or the latest gossip or even nothing at all, had been a wonderful way for them to stay close.

A minute later the door opened—a tray with a teapot and cups, as well as two slices of cake, was brought into the room.

‘I confess I often indulge in a piece of mid-afternoon cake. I find the gap between breakfast and dinner so very long if there is not something to sustain me mid-afternoon.’

Lady Shrewsbury motioned for her to take the second slice. Sarah picked it up before taking a bite. The cake was delicious, light and fluffy with a hint of lemon. She’d only tasted lemon once before, but it was a flavour that had stuck with her, luxurious and sharp.

‘Tell me about yourself, Miss Shepherd. You are from Sussex I think?’

‘Yes, a little town on the coast, St Leonards.’

‘I have heard of it. It must have been idyllic growing up by the seaside. I fondly remember trips to Brighton and Lyme Regis from my childhood.’

‘I feel very lucky to have spent my childhood there, yes,’ Sarah said, feeling on edge. She could not understand why Lady Shrewsbury had invited her to have tea and cake and share in small talk in her huge mansion, not so soon after accusing Sarah of trying to manipulate her friend into marriage. It was bizarre—she would have felt more comfortable if the Countess had dismissed her once she’d been assured there was nothing developing between Lord Routledge and Sarah.

‘And you came to London to find your sister.’

‘Yes. After I have tracked her down I have a job waiting for me in Kent.’

‘Oh?’ Lady Shrewsbury tried not to sound too excited, but failed as she leaned forward, placing the plate with the cake down on the table.

‘I have a position with a family to teach music. I am eager to start.’

‘That is what you wish to do with your life then, Miss Shepherd?’

Sarah considered the question. She loved music, loved the way she felt when her fingers touched the piano, gliding over the keys. She could get lost in music, taken away from the present for minutes at a time.

It was her passion in life, although becoming a music teacher was less so. She liked children, but instructing them day after day on how to play the piano was not how she would choose to spend her time if she had limitless opportunities. The fact of the matter was she did not. Her options were limited, and she was lucky enough that she could become a music teacher instead of searching for a position as nursemaid or general household servant.

‘Yes, my lady,’ she answered simply.

‘A noble profession, teaching young minds. I never was a quick study with music. I can play the piano of course, and sing, as all young ladies can, but it was not something that came naturally to me.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps you could play for me.’ She indicated the beautiful piano sitting at the other end of the room.

‘I don’t...’

‘It would make me very happy. I do love to listen to music.’

Sarah stood, smoothing down her skirt and moving towards the piano. She took her time, adjusting the position of the piano stool, wondering at the strange set of circumstances that had led to her being pressed to play the piano for a Countess, in a house she had broken into only a few days earlier.

She needed no music, selecting one of the pieces she knew from memory, and positioned her fingers on the keys. After a moment she began to play. As the clear notes rang out through the room, she felt some of the tension leave her. This was one of the reasons she loved to play the piano. Music was freeing—it allowed you to escape for a while, to float away on the musical notes. It brought people together. You did not need to be a certain class or creed to enjoy a perfectly composed symphony. For her it was a little more personal too. Her mother had been a talented pianist, her fingers gliding over the keys of their old piano.

When Sarah and Selina had been very young the piano had belonged to their next-door neighbour, who had invited their mother to play whenever she wanted. Although Mrs Shepherd was a very private person, she had not been able to resist this offer. Twice a week she would take her two young children to the kindly neighbour’s house and spend an hour playing. When Sarah was six their neighbour passed away, and much to the chagrin of the neighbour’s daughter, left the piano to Mrs Shepherd in her will. Every day, once the piano was moved to their modest cottage, Sarah and her mother would sit side by side as Mrs Shepherd taught her daughter everything she knew. Selina never had the patience to perfect the art of making music, although could play passably well, so it was a passion Sarah alone had shared with her mother.

Now she was playing one of her mother’s favourite pieces. As her fingers danced over the keys she felt a pang of sadness. With all the discoveries that had followed their mother’s death there had not been time to mourn her properly. Sarah had been caught up in a whirlwind—trying to stretch the little money they had to cover their expenses and pay for their mother’s burial, as well as tempering Selina’s excitement at the discovery of the letters from their father.

But she would not cry here, not in this house with Lady Shrewsbury looking on. This was not the place to mourn her mother.

After a couple of minutes of playing the door to the drawing room opened. Sarah glanced up and saw the portly figure of Lord Shrewsbury standing there. He was frowning, but when his wife gestured for him to come and sit with her he did so without comment. Sarah continued with the piece until the end. Once she had played the last note, she looked up at her audience of two.

‘That was exquisite, Miss Shepherd,’ Lady Shrewsbury said.

‘Yes, you are very talented. I beg your indulgence whilst I speak to my wife for a moment. Do take some more tea whilst we step out,’ Lord Shrewsbury added, taking his wife firmly by the arm and guiding her through the door.

It didn’t fully close behind them, and Sarah’s curiosity got the better of her. She took a few steps over to the door and listened carefully.

‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’

‘Henry has been running around London with her. Someone even saw them sheltering under a tree during a storm in the park.’