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Lord Carlisle nodded, thanking her. “Well, how can I refuse such a gracious invitation?” he asked. Simon stepped up beside her, placing his hand on her back.
“You cannot. Please, do join us, my friend,” he said. He waved his hand in front of him, and they headed to the hearth together. Ellen motioned her sister over with a crooked finger, giving a wry smile.
“Lord Carlisle, have you met my younger sister, Beatrice?”
Lord Carlisle’s face seemed to light up. “We have met previously.”
Beatrice seemed pleased to see him as well. “Very briefly. It is a pleasure to see you again, my lord.” Beatrice gave a curtsey, and he took her hand, kissing it.
“The pleasure is mine, Lady Beatrice.”
Ellen gave Simon a knowing smile as the two began a conversation, seemingly forgetting that she and Simon were even there. As a consequence, she and Simon moved away, and he offered her a seat on the sofa. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I have a present for you,” he said.
Ellen looked up at him and smiled. “You did not have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Besides, I have been planning this for weeks, and I can wait no longer,” he said. He stood up suddenly and went over to the hearth, leaning down to a corner shrouded in shadows, and brought out a package. It was wrapped in white Brussels lace and tied up with a bright red ribbon. She gasped when he handed it to her.
“This is beautiful, Simon,” she breathed.
“Do not credit me with the wrapping. It was all my mother’s doing,” he said with a smile. “But the wrapping is not the best part. Open it,” he urged.
By this time, everyone had quieted and turned their attention to her. She felt guilty for being the only one with a present. It was customary to exchange gifts on St. Nicholas Day, not Christmas Day. For a moment, she thought about declining so that no one would feel left out, but the excitement in Simon’s eyes made her think better of it.
“Very well,” Ellen said. “If you insist?”
“I do, rather,” he said with a smile.
“Go on then,” Beatrice said with a little annoyance in her tone. “How very mysterious this all is,” she said. Lord Carlisle was by her side and could not but agree.
Ellen carefully undid the ribbon, moved the lace aside, and was surprised to see a music book. Her face lit up. “Oh, Simon, it is beautiful,” she said. “It is a new songbook for the pianoforte,” she announced.
Simon laughed. “You have not seen the best part. Look at the author,” he said, pointing out that the bottom of the book was still covered. Ellen frowned slightly, giving a nervous smile.
“What do you mean—” she asked, but her words fell short when her eyes fell on her name, printed and embossed in gold. “Simon? What is this?” she asked, her heart beginning to race.
Simon knelt before her and took up the book. The lace fell into her lap, and he held up the music book in front of her. “I hope you do not mind, but I sent copies of your music sheets to a composer in London. He loved them so much and said they should be published so everyone might have the chance to hear your songs.”
Ellen’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest. “You showed my songs to a composer?” she asked, disbelief and gratitude warring inside her. “Why?”
“Because I believe the composer is exactly right. Your songs are beautiful and unique, and the world deserves to hear them.” He looked down at the book. Concern etched his face. “Do you not like it? Have I overstepped the bounds?” he asked.
Ellen shook her head, laughter bubbling up inside her. “Do I like it?” she repeated. “This is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me!” she exclaimed. She did not care that her entire family was watching but wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the mouth.
Laughter rang out through the drawing room, and soon their families applauded the happy couple. She laughed, covering her mouth, a little embarrassed by her outburst. However, the smile on Simon’s face was worth it.
Simon stood, offering her his hand.
“Come, play one of them for us,” he suggested, and everyone agreed. They left the drawing room and went into the parlour, gathering around the piano to listen to her play. She thumbed through the pages, still riddled with disbelief that this was really happening. She looked through the titles and soon found the song she was looking for. She looked up at Simon and then around at her family.
“This is a song I composed shortly after becoming Simon’s wife.” She stopped, trying to swallow over the lump that had formed in her throat. “This is for you, my darling,” she said softly, never taking her eyes off him. He nodded, and she touched her fingers to the ivory and ebony keys.
The music began sweet and soft, almost timidly, just as she had been when they first married. It continued for a few measures, filled with discordant harmonies that resolved themselves only after some moments of sweet discomfort. Then, as the tension built, it reached a climax, but the notes no longer seemed to fight against each other.
Ellen closed her eyes, building until she was at a full crescendo, her fingers flying back and forth over the keys. When she opened her eyes for a split second, she saw that her family was in rapture, and several of them had closed their eyes to get the full effect of the music.
For the last few measures, she looked at Simon, who held her gaze unswervingly. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
She softened to mezzo piano, the melody and harmony intertwining in perfect unity. It was a pure and beautiful mirror of their love. They had overcome their trials in the early parts of their marriage, had learned to love each other, and now they would have the chance to learn every day how to deepen that love—how to cherish each other through the rest of their lives.
