Chapter 4 - A Lesson in C
It was mid morning and Mozart was already at the keyboard, playing music that he had found on the library shelf. Old melodies of Bach, Handel and Gluck. We were fortunate to have many lovely pieces in our home, among my Papa's favourite pastimes was collecting. He was always buying, trading and searching for new pieces to have on our shelves. Music for us to sing and celebrate.
All of his daughters were accomplished singers, having brought ourselves to this point with little instruction. We had a natural gift for song, my own voice the most melodious of the family. I often attended productions in town and I would close my eyes, ignoring the beautiful backdrops and scene changes – simply absorbing the voices on stage. Noticing the small nuances, hoping to copy their trained skill in my own singing, I would listen intently.
The Weber family socials were famous throughout the village, our music making brought joy to our friends and family. In my own write, I had reasonable accolade and had been encouraged by many of our town musicians to pursue a career on stage. I would be lying if I said I hadn't considered it.
I stood just outside the door of the room, listening to him practice. He played beautifully, as if the keys were an extension of his own spirit. More than technical skill, there was art to his song. I waited, listening to him work. Perhaps he will forget about Papa's arrangement, and I will avoid this situation entirely! What do I need from keyboard lessons? I'm sure Papa had arranged this purely for my own torture.
Frauline Weber, you may come in. He called from his seat at the keyboard, straining to peek around the door way from where he sat.
Curse! He knew I was here, there was no chance of avoidance now. I froze in place, should I go in? Suddenly, he appeared next to me, extending his hand in gentle gesture.
Madam ? He giggled softly - dramatically bowing in jest, Are you ready to begin ? Raising his eyebrows expectantly
Yes – let us begin. Picking up the hem of my skirt, I walked past his hand into the parlour, leaving him standing just outside the door, baffled. I was no child and would not play his silly games. If it was a lesson Papa wanted, I would take the lesson, but that is all.
Alright... He seemed confused by my cool nature, but quickly followed suit, Please have a seat. He said pulling the bench out for me.
I obliged, sitting with the heavy fabric of my gown cascading over the edges of the seat, ensuring that there was indeed no chance he could come near.
You look lovely this morning, you did not have to dress formally for this occasion. He winked as he pulled a chair close to the keyboard, sitting with his elbow on the edge of the keyboard rather casually.
I wouldn't presume Herr Mozart. I replied curtly, causing him to frown slightly. He was disappointed I was not a willing participant in his flirtatious teasing.
Regardless Frau Weber, he smiled again, I appreciate your taste in fashion. Let's begin with some scales, shall we?
My cheeks betrayed me as I felt colour rushing to the surface after his compliment. Quietly I placed my hands on the keys and began with C major. As time continued, we delved into repertoire. Despite his childish nature, he spoke professionally about my playing, offering corrections when due. I do hate to admit, he was a fine teacher.
Frauline, may I show you? Reaching over my hands, he played the melody of a short passage, to demonstrate the rhythm. Do you hear the difference in duration? Play it for me again from bar 9.
I complied, he shook his head as I attempted the same passage again. Making the same error as before.
No – please, let me show you again. Listen carefully. He played once again, emphasizing the triplet. I sighed frustratedly, I believe I played it just as you demonstrated Herr Mozart.
Without hesitation – or warning - he slide his right hand under my own. I was startled by this and I began to protest – Herr Mozart I…
He raised his free hand to hush me - Just allow your hand to follow my own, feel the pattern as I play.
He slowly began to repeat from bar 9, the triplet rhythm, allowing my fingers to follow his movements, his fingers dancing underneath my own.
Do you see? He said as he continued to play, though I had long since stopped listening to his instruction. I felt my own pulse in my throat. I swallowed hard, trying to rid myself of that uncomfortable thump, thump, thump. It was as if my ears had swollen shut, everything sounded distant - muted. All I could hear was the piano. I felt his body leaning over mine, the linen of his collar grazing my neck as he reached around to add the left hand, completing the harmony. It was beautiful. Hypnotic. The melody began pouring out from the instrument as I remained stunned by his precision, his phrasing, his closeness.
As the final cadence resolved, he paused. Hovering above the keys, he chuckled – the rumble in his chest sending vibrations down my spine. I shifted forward to escape the contact.
A lovely piece, don't you think ? He pulled away, righting himself as he stood tall, smoothing out his waistcoat.
I blinked, staring emptily at the score in front of me. I felt warm, my cheeks reddening once again, I lowered my eyes, choosing instead to focus on my hands as I folded them on my skirt. A few moments of silence passed between us when he finally spoke, So shall we stop here for today? I nodded slowly, not lifting my gaze from my hands. It felt as if I was voiceless, I could not speak – my chest felt tight and my insides churned, making me feel ill. What was this spell?
He seemed unaffected – or perhaps he was simply better at masking his symptoms.
Oh and Frauline, I do wish you would call me Wolfgang.
I stood slowly, turning to face him as he organized a stack of manuscripts on the side table. Clearly he was already working on something, a symphony, or an opera?Holding his stack of papers, he stepped closer,
May I call you Aloysia?
Unable to answer I simply nodded slowly, sliding out from behind the bench. Thank you. I managed to squeak out softly as I quickly left the parlour – unable to remain in his proximity any longer.
I'll see you tomorrow? He called after me, but I did not answer.
