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This time, at her cue, Sophie opened her mouth and her singing words emerged. She sang of fearful anxieties, of amorous fires, of little flowers laughing, calling her love to her, and soon she was back in the conservatory at the estate, singing for no one’s pleasure but her own. The notes on the pianoforte hummed in her ears as she became one with them. Her voice soared, and with it so did she, to a better place, the place she always escaped to when she sang. The music took her away—the melodies, the harmonies—and she floated upward, onto a cloud, a cloud where no one could harm her. All fueled by her own voice.
When the last word of the song dripped from her lips, she bowed her head, closing her eyes. Nothingness enveloped her, and peace surrounded her.
Until the clapping of Cameron and Mr. Newland and the rest of the actors in the audience thundered into her ears.
“Brava!” a gentleman yelled from the audience.
Soon more “bravas” echoed throughout the theatre. When the excitement died down, Mr. Newland stood, speaking from his seat in the audience.
“My lady, that was profound. Your voice is captivating and unique. May I ask where you studied?”
Sophie’s lips trembled. “I didn’t.”
“Really, you don’t say? Another self-taught prodigy, then, like our own Lord Thornton here.”
“When I was quite young, I had lessons on the pianoforte, and my instructor coached me on vocal technique. But before long…” She couldn’t go on. The truth was, before long, her mother had no longer been able to afford her lessons. Sophie didn’t like to think about her childhood. Her father had been abusive to her, Ally, and their mother. Each year they’d had a little less, due to his negligence in handling estate affairs, and eventually they hadn’t been able to live on the estate at all. They moved into town and lived in near poverty. When her father, the Earl of Longarry, passed away three years prior, they had come to England, where their mother’s sister, the Countess of Ashford, had set them up in a townhome in Mayfair. Soon thereafter, their mother, Iris, had met the love of her life, David, the Earl of Brighton.
“And before long…what?” Mr. Newland asked.
She cleared her throat. “Before long…I guess I just lost interest in music.” Oh, Sophie, what a horrendous lie. She hated lying. Especially to Mr. Newland, although she wasn’t quite certain why. Something about him…
“Well, despite your loss of interest, I can see you excel at it nonetheless. I thank you very much for singing for us today. Auditions will go on today and tomorrow. Parts will be posted here at the theatre two days hence.”
Sophie nodded, unsure what to do. She looked to Cameron, who gestured with his head for her to leave the stage.
A few seconds later, Cameron joined her. “That was brilliant, Sophie. Truly.”
“I’m afraid I made a horrible fool of myself. I had no idea what I was doing.”
“You did fine. Everyone is nervous at the first audition. Actually, everyone is nervous at every audition. You sang beautifully, and I could tell that Newland was impressed. I have to get back to auditions, but I’ve arranged for a cabbie to meet you at the front of the theatre. He will take you back to the estate.”
Sophie gulped. “Thank you, Cam. Having you here made it a little less nerve-racking.”
Cameron smiled and walked back onto the stage.
Sophie heaved a sigh of relief. Whether roles were posted two days hence was irrelevant. She had fulfilled her bargain with Ally and auditioned. She was now done. Back to her life of spinsterhood. The thought calmed her.
Calm was good.
* * *
Zach squirmed in his theatre seat.
What was it about that woman? She had dressed conservatively in a dark-green day gown, plain and simple. Small wisps and curls of blond hair feathered out from the severe bun holding the rest of her coif tight. Her eyes—brown. Or were they green? Brown with green flecks, a few golden sparkles too. Eyes that could hold a man captive. Such a delicate little figure, but lush in all the right places.
Yes, she was beautiful, but she didn’t know how truly beautiful she was. Something held her back. She trembled as though she wished she were invisible—like a wood sprite who had appeared from another realm and might vanish in an instant. She lacked confidence and courage—that was clear.
But that voice… He had never heard anything quite like it. Angels had come down from heaven and sung through this nervous woman.
Nanette was up next for her audition. She was also a soprano, and though quite talented, her voice was nothing compared to Lady Sophie’s. Zach had to see her before she left, had to tell her how moved he had been by her audition.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, standing, “we’re going to take a short respite. Miss Lloyd,
you’re next. Go ahead and use this time to warm up with Lord Thornton at the piano.”
“But Zach…” Nanette whined.
Zach didn’t respond. Instead, he rushed out of the theatre and into the lobby. No sign of Lady Sophie. Looking out the door, he spied her getting into a hansom cab. The cabbie had taken her hand and was helping her into the coach.
