Author's note

My husband/publisher made a terrible mistake, telling me to tell you a review on Amazon could be made regardless of a sale. I'm terribly sorry, and to make up for it here's the extra chapter anyway. And for the one reader who bought the book to post a review, thank you! You may have single-handedly saved my future as a writer! I hope you read this despite having all the remaining chapters at your disposal. This extra chapter will help you, too, because it speeds up the all-new updates.

Enjoy!

Chapter 64

Before Mr Manners can comment, they reach the party-room and enter, fortunately Eric behind Mr Manners once more, for in the group of workers placing the piano to Mr Lascelles' exact instructions, he immediately recognises the man who delivered his own piano to Mr Darcy's house, what was his name again?

He cannot come up with it this quickly, but he does know this man should not see him and he pulls Mr Manners' coat and turns around and leaves the room before the man standing in front of him can even ask him what's up.

Outside in the hall, Eric starts to realise this is the man who told the reporter that Eric was intimate with Miss Darcy, and while Mr Darcy didn't blame Eric in the least for that damned article, Eric still smarts under the implications, no matter how true they are. Probably because they are true.

An uncharacteristic anger comes over him, and he feels like going in there, and giving the man a piece of his mind, though a tiny reasonable part of him urges him that is not a good idea at all.

'Philip, you look seriously put out, remind me to never make you angry, you seem so innocuous and sweet mannered, but obviously you have some steel in you. Please calm down and tell me what you saw in there. Wrong brand piano? Did they abuse it? They did come highly recommended.'

He does know how to find the right tone for everyone, Mr Manners. But Eric is still so upset he blurts out, 'That man moved my piano to Mr Darcy's place and told all kinds of lies to a reporter about me and Miss Darcy. I thought Mr Darcy'd certainly kick me out as a result, but he didn't. He said it was his fault for accidentally dropping my name to the guy.

He also said it was great publicity. But nonetheless I want to give him a piece of my mind, that loose-mouthed idiot, he almost ruined my life! Again!'

'Calm down, Philip!

If he's a reporter or in league with one, he should not see you here. Grenfell says Darcy guards his sister beyond reason, but he would never be unfair, you cannot help what a reporter makes up about you.

So you were in the papers? I never spotted it, but Darcy was right, its great advertising.

Now you let me handle this. I'll give him some interesting facts to blabber to the reporter, no-one must find out what we are really planning here.

You stay here and control yourself!'

Suddenly, Eric understands Mr Grenfell a lot better, this is not a request from Mr Manners but an order, and it's not negotiable. Well, Eric's anger has been cooled enough to see the sense in it, and he merely peeks to see what Mr Manners says to the delivery-man.

Of course he cannot understand a word of what is said, but they chat very familiarly, and by the time the men are done and come towards the door to leave, the tradesman obviously is great friends with Mr Manners.

Apparently, no-one gainsays him.

Eric disappears into a little recess in the hall until the men have passed by, then he enters the room.

'Did they see you?' Mr Manners asks, in a totally different voice, very friendly, almost soft.

'They didn't. I peeked and saw them coming, so I hid in a little corner while they were in the hall.'

'Thank you so much, Eric, I'm sorry I addressed you like that, you're not mine to command, and had you obeyed to the letter, as people tend to do that tone of voice, the guy would have walked right into you.

I'm also sorry for using your real name just now, but there's just Lascelles here and he knows anyway. Please don't think I disrespect you, Eric, in fact I have the highest opinion of you and would very much like to be less formal with you. Will you do me the honour of calling me Frederick in private and Manners in public?'

Apparently, this is a big deal, it takes some getting used to. But Manners is clearly a good sort of man, and Eric is more used to familiarity than formality.

'Sure, and of course you're welcome to reciprocate. But would you mind explaining to me what private is, exactly?

I mean, you're calling Mr Lascelles by his family name though I'd say we're reasonably private here.'

'Eric, you're invaluable! We're so stuck in our ways we don't even notice anymore. This certainly counts as private, but the boys and I never use first names, at college, first names don't exist.

Now tell me, what do you think of Grenfell's new pride and joy? Bought with the sole purpose of catching himself a missus to make over the house and get rid of his rather overpowering mother?'

Honorifics, college and familiarity is all pretty confusing, fortunately there is one subject in the world that Eric is a true expert on.

Piano's.

First he looks at the entire instrument, it's obviously modern and very elegant, certainly not a Zumpe, they tend to be voluminous like Mr Zumpe himself.

Stroking the lid to feel the glossy lacquered wood, he opens it and checks the insides. Finding a system he has never seen before, of course the general set-up is the same, strings attached to the frame, hammers making the sound, but everything else is totally unique. This is marvellous, this must be a very expensive and exclusive instrument. Mr Grenfell must be hunting big game indeed.

'This is a magnificent instrument, Frederick, who chose it? Mr Lascelles, did you? Don't tell me its maker, yet, I'm going to guess. Is it a Clementi?'

'Spot on, Fielding, or did I just hear I'm supposed to call you by an alias here? You know that's way too involved, Manners, those tricks never work out.'

'He's Philip, he's no gentleman, we just put that suit on him for tonight. He was introduced as Philip Fields, better remember.

And Eric, once you're familiar with one of us, you're with all of us, so it's Lascelles for you from now on. Today as well, though you're supposed to be someone else, it doesn't matter. They'll all know.'

'All right, Philip it is then. I chose the piano, but I asked Mr Darcy first what brand was the best available, Grenfell is paying anyway. It seems Mr Darcy's made quite a study of the subject, Miss Darcy once told me he always chooses the best piano's of that particular moment. He said Clementi's were expensive but Miss Darcy loved hers. He also recommended the firm to transport it.

They refused to tune it after such a trip, but I guessed you could do that yourself so I didn't elaborate. I'm glad now I didn't, or I would have used your real name. If you scheme, Manners, better let the rest of us into it, or things will go amiss.'

Eric manages to keep from blushing at the mention of Georgiana, especially since he has been dying to get his hands on a Clementi for years. Now he won't have to wait for his visit to Pemberley to finally play one.

For half an hour the rest of the world ceases to exist, as he plays a few chords to find the piano incredibly sour, then opens his case with tools.

'I guess you'll be safe enough here, Philip, we'll be in the drawing-room with the rest. It's not much fun watching a guy being intimate with an instrument, no matter how well-built they both are.'

He'll have to reply, but then his time will be his own. Half an hour is not enough, this piano deserves a full tuning. No, Eric, control yourself, give it time to adjust to the room or all your work will be in vain. Better go back in an hour or two for fine-tuning.

'I'm good for half an hour, and then I'll need another hour tonight, before the show. I'll come to the drawing-room once I'm finished, Frederick.'

'Good, enjoy!'

And enjoy himself Eric does, this instrument is such a joy to tune, it's as if it tunes itself, everything works so fabulously supple and solid. Half an hour, and the basic tuning is finished, very basic indeed.

Still he cannot control himself and plays for another half hour, the sonata he practised with Georgiana, this instrument is so perfect for the virtuosity. Then the lively fragments of his own concerto, and a smattering of the music that is ripening in his mind at the very moment, very feeling, a mixture of intense longing and hope, and the certainty of disappointment and heartbreak threatening to replace the first two.

Thus he discovers the disadvantage of this lovely instrument, it doesn't make him feel as deeply as his own Zumpe or Georgiana's Buntebart, this piano is meant to be played lively and with virtuosity. Too bad for Mr Zumpe that his handiwork lends itself better for the work he didn't want to hear.

The pieces Eric's former patron likes best, sonatas of incredible difficulty, sound so much better on this Clementi, infinitely better than on the instruments of the man who adores them so much, and who hates the Clementi family as his most dangerous competitors.

Enough playing already, better be sociable for a few moments, he's been an hour longer than he said he would be.

As he gets up, he hears someone behind him, and he feels a light touch on his back.

'You are mighty talented, Philip Fields, to tune a piano in half an hour and play like that. I'm looking forward to tonight!'

It's the old widow, who's not so old at all, and standing very close to him. Better flee, Simon said not to do anything without Manners present.

'Thank you, Mrs Grenfell! I am looking forward to playing this beautiful piano, too. Good day!'

And he's out of the room and on his way to the drawing-room.

Bother his concentration, he never heard her enter, he has no idea how long she had been sitting there, listening to him playing a sonata by heart, and pouring out his innermost feelings through his music. Very embarrassing.

During dinner, Eric starts to understand how Manners and friends plan to keep the widow in her own room, she drinks wine as if it's lemonade, if she continues to imbibe at this rate she will be unconscious by suppertime.

Eric accepts one glass of well-watered wine, and after that he sticks to tea and plain water, which the servants find rather singular, but accept without question.

The widow is the only woman present, and frankly, Eric feels a bit sorry for her. She must lead a rather lonely life here in this large house, with nothing to do but reading, needlework and drinking wine. In summer she must enjoy her garden very much, but in the dreariness of December, he can even understand her finding solace in a good vintage from France.

Imagine her son spending all his time with a clique of bachelors, if he was married or had married friends she'd have some company at least.

'I'm glad Cuthbert decided to spend Christmas with me,' she says, 'and so nice of you to all drop by. It's so enjoyable to have some young folk about for a change.

And to think you've organised a concert for me, and you've found such a talented musician, and such a handsome fellow! I snuck in while he was tuning and trying your new piano, Bertie, he's wasted on whatever bar you found him in.

I'm looking forward to tonight very much!'

As soon as she has drained her glass, a servant fills it back up, it's just incredible, they're purposely setting her drunk! She must know, she just cannot resist the lure of the wine.

Truthfully, Eric is glad to escape straight after dinner. Instead of Mrs Grenfell retreating to the drawing-room by herself, she stays with the gentlemen and gets her share of the brandy.

How can Manners condone this? They're killing her!

He does not excuse himself to Grenfell, but rather to Manners.

'I really need to spend some more time on the piano, Manners, it has been warming up steadily the past two hours, and it will have detuned more than a little because of that. It'll take me at least an hour to correct that.

I don't mind the widow watching, but I'd like her to announce herself, and keep a proper distance so as not to disturb me in my work.'

Manners can read Eric's indignation over the poor widow's treatment in his face, no doubt.

'Please don't judge me, Philip, I know what it looks like, but believe me, Grenfell has his reasons, I'll explain later. And I'll talk to his mother myself, she'll listen to me. Thank you for allowing her to sit in while you tune and practise, it's a real treat for her.'

Well, it's none of his business anyway. The piano needs some rough tuning, but less than he thought, and then he can start on the finer work, an instrument of this quality deserves to have been tuned perfectly at least once. No doubt it will be handled by bunglers from now on, but that's the fate of most piano-forte's, though admittedly usually not of Clementi's.

The widow does indeed announce herself, actually Manners stands on the edge of Eric's personal space until Eric notices him, then says Mrs Grenfell will be sitting in a chair Lascelles has already placed there especially for her.

'How long have you been waiting for me to notice you, Frederick?'

'About five minutes, you can sure concentrate to the exclusion of all else.'

'You may touch me, Frederick, there's nothing indecent about a man catching another man's attention that way. But Mrs Grenfell may have some trouble recognising boundaries after indulging so heavily, I just don't want to run the risk of causing confusion here.'

'Again, you're priceless. I'll leave you to your tuning and playing, we'll be here for the real concert in another hour. Don't hesitate to put in some practise, I suppose Mrs Grenfell is on to you anyway, and Grenfell doesn't seem to have noticed at all. He's already thinking of tonight, I guess.'

That is the best thing Manners could have told him today, Eric's hands are aching to try his new study piece on this piano, it should be a perfect match, but it's way too virtuous for a pianist plucked from a bar and stuck into a suit. Then again, Mrs Grenfell is long past reason in her intoxication, she may not even notice.

Against his common sense, but to his current delight, Eric has taken his music sheets for the piece with him, and since he is planning to play several less virtuous pieces and his concerto officially, he merely sets to practise with his usual dedication.

And indeed this is the perfect instrument for it, he loses himself totally in his studies, and it's as if the piano encourages him, for even the hardest passage flows out of those keys better than ever. The hour flies by, without a single sound out of the widow.

Until the door opens and the entire clique files in, finding seats around Mrs Grenfell. She, of course, gets a refill of ruby red wine, the rest are also holding glasses with wine or spirits.

A servant very carefully puts a cup of tea on the piano, an excellent idea after an hour of practice.

The next hour, Eric plays his usual repertoire, the widow obviously relishes the music, and most gentlemen at least enjoy it. Grenfell is the exception, he seems bored and distracted by his thoughts. It must have been very dull indeed, living here with his old fashioned mother.

And that was a mere two weeks, there will be six more yet to come.

After the concert, the widow approaches Eric, clearly planning to embrace him. Manners moves to intercept, she's not quite steady on her feet anymore, and Eric just cannot bear the sight of her without doing something.

A nod to Manners keeps him at a distance, and Eric allows the widow to embrace him, he has to steady her to keep her from falling.

'Thank you so much, Philip, that was beautiful. Well, I'm off to bed now, I'm not allowed to stay for the real fun. Please behave yourself, but I suppose you will since you don't drink wine, apparently.'

And with that, a maid takes her mistress from Eric's arms and leads her out.

A flurry of activity follows, and within minutes the room is totally transformed from a kind of theatre to a more informal situation, with several kinds of liquors and whisky openly on a buffet, and servants bringing in savoury treats.

Eric decides to wait behind the piano, where he feels more secure, as Manners and Lascelles have everything arranged to their liking.

Then Lascelles joins Eric at the piano and says, 'Philip, we are going to start with an oriental theme, then French. After that, the dress of the girls will give the style away, I think, and by then everyone is so drunk you can just play anything rowdy you like or they request.

If anyone offers you insult or rudeness, signal to either Manners or myself, we'll deal with it, we will not be indulging in much drinking.'

As their friends await the entertainment eagerly, Manners leads in a whole string of scantily clad, pretty young women. They are all dressed more or less the same, and Eric gets the idea and starts an oriental sounding tune with dissonances of which he is very proud.

The girls do a synchronised belly-dance, an incredibly tantalizing sight, there are eight girls present, and the gentlemen are not admiring them from a distance, but stroking and touching them as they dance past the little tables.

Oh my! That goes a little further than Eric expected, and this is just the beginning!

After the belly-dance, the girls remove several articles of clothing, yes, that is possible though he thought they wore very little to begin with, and now they're playing with feathered stoles, and he changes the music to a French march.

The girls pick it up immediately, and start to dance even more sinuously and sensually, fortunately Eric can hide behind the piano or the gentlemen would undoubtedly laugh at his prudishness.

But he needs to check the girls' next moves, this is as far as his instructions reach, and he can do little but improvise.

The ladies certainly are professionals, they file to a certain table to get top-hats, and Eric plays a formal hymn, which they still manage to dance to in a tantalizing way. After that they are clearly ready for a breather, and he is, too.

The girls sit on the gentlemen's laps and get drinks from a sole remaining servant, and Eric has time and bravery enough to look about him.

Most of the group have one or two ladies on their knees, and are fondling and kissing eagerly.

Grenfell is the most obviously excited, he actually gropes under clothing and in tiny pants, causing his two girls to squeal in surprise. But apparently it is allowed, for they stay right where they are and even remove his coat and unbutton his shirt.

His chest is an impressive sight, he must work out a lot.

Mr Manners is looking on mildly, he has no girls with him, and he doesn't seem to want to, and yet he does not look as if he is merely supervising, he seems to enjoy his friends' party as much as they do.

Lascelles does kiss one girl, and he strokes her with relish, and though he does not get more intimate than that, Eric is nonetheless rather outraged. He's been engaged for a mere day!

Drinks are disappearing rapidly, and some gentlemen are disappearing from the room with one or more ladies, Grenfell first of all.

Mr Manners stays put, nursing a drink, now chatting with one of the girls but not touching, and Eric can see Mr Lascelles leave, but by himself. Whatever can he be doing? Checking on those couples?

Feeling a little uncomfortable, Eric starts to play again, but quieter, fitting the scene.

Of course that causes him to forget his surroundings, until he suddenly feels a strong, hard body against his own.

He manages to continue playing and looks up, it's Grenfell watching him play, but somehow hanging against him not to fall over.

'You're doing quite well, Philip, I'm ready for some serious music so I thought I'd see what else you know.'

Grenfell drags a chair close and sits down, good, that didn't feel very comfortable, such a masculine shape against his slender one, it was kind of threatening.

'Say Philip, let's have a little talk, you and I. I'd like you to play something really lively next, but be careful not to damage the piano with your large paws, this piano is meant for a lady to play on. Can't have some bar-player ruin it for my future missus, now can I?'

Well, at least someone has not seen through Manners' ruse, if Grenfell still thinks Eric is a pianist from the streets.

'Say Philip, do you have a lady of some sorts?'

Eric has been amusing himself with thinking up a persona for Philip, and he's actually excited to get the chance to use it.

'Sure, Grenfell, I have this lovely lass I go see, Deirdre. She used to be married to a huge bald fellow, and we, you know, saw each other very carefully. But the big guy got involved in an brawl and got himself a bad case of death by stabbing, the temper on that fellow.

Anyways, Deirdre inherited the bar, and I've been playing there ever since. She's just got the one kid from the bald fellow, he has hair though so no-one knows he's not mine. Come to think of it, maybe he is mine.'

'I like you, Philip! A bald fellow! Say, do you ride?'

Somehow, that seems to be really important to these guys.

'I don't, Grenfell, I'm a city boy, I walk everywhere.'

'Too bad, riding gets a fellow some good stuff. Nearly had myself a good summer at Pemberley, you know it?'

'I know of it.'

'Well, I promised to teach the young mistress to ride, she rather fancied me and if she'd see this magnificent piano she'd be mine altogether, she plays much like you, but a lot better of course, she's had the best teachers money can buy.

I almost had her, nice little fresh thing to liven up my bed, but her arrogant brother cut me off. Probably afraid his own missus would like me a bit too much, eh? Poor sister isn't allowed to do anything without the brother's consent, see what that'll get her. Stuffy old Manners most likely, guy doesn't care one bit about the ladies, never seen him even look at one twice. And he's to marry that sweet little slip of a girl?

You know that Darcy girl has thirty thousand? And a juicy maid, I thought I'd get two for the price of one, but damned if that worked out well. Bet you that Darcy fellow wanted that maid for himself, too, a right tantrum he kicked over her, a damned maid. Who cares?

But no matter, I've my eye on another one, ten thousand less and a bit stuck up, but my mum will cure her of that. She may look pliable but she aint, it's the wine that makes her sweet for a night. Tomorrow you'll meet her for real.

At least this new one doesn't have a pesky brother, have enough to cope with, with my mum still living in and my very own friends.

Well, anyway, you play a nice rowdy tavern song that we can bawl along with, and after that there's plenty of girls, you can have one, too. That redhead was great, I'm going for the blonde next. Nice talking to you, Philip!'

That beats all! Eric thought Simon was overreacting to not being invited, but he was right! This fellow is even worse than he thought, he'd come on to the lady of the house as easily as one of these paid girls. Or the poor maid.

Playing a rowdy song and singing along is the best way to put it out of his mind for now, but tonight in his old-fashioned bed, he will think about it a bit more. There was something about this fellow that bothered Georgiana and Simon, but he forgot.

They love Eric's drinking songs, another advantage of not doing any drinking himself, his voice cannot be harmed by these rough, loud vocals.

The party lasts deep into the night, and one by one the gentlemen seem to give in to sleep and the effect of spirits. When three of them have retired, and a fourth, a tall, thin man with long black shiny ringlets, has fallen asleep on one of the sofa's, Manners brings Eric a glass of wine and says, 'That's more than half water, enjoy! You've earned it.

I'm going to check upstairs, we agreed that Lascelles would do that, but he's getting a bit tired as well. Back in a moment!'

Eric stops playing for a few moments to drink and wiggle his hands, when one of the girls comes towards him.

'Can I sit with you for a moment, sir? I admire your talent, I've never heard someone play as fancy as that.'

There are plenty of chairs about, so there is no reason she should not sit down for a moment, most of the men are either occupied with one or more of the girls, upstairs somewhere, or asleep, and this girl is no longer needed.

'Sure, take any chair you like,' he says, and he looks around the room to see how many men are left standing. Grenfell is impossible to beat, of course, and another, plain-faced man of the same build as Grenfell is still dancing and kissing.

Suddenly, a weight lands on his lap, and an arm clutches his waist possessively. The girl is sitting on top of him!

His first instinct is to push her off, but that would be very rude, and somehow he would hate to have Grenfell laugh at him for being a prude. So he merely settles to her weight and waits what happens. Manners is still nowhere in sight, he'll have to manage by himself.

An elegant hand strokes his clean-shaven cheek, and runs through his black hair freely.

'You are the most handsome man in this whole company, and so talented. I find that very exciting, you look so much like an angel when you play.

Oh, and you're shy. That's just irresistible!'

He is shy, and desperately in love with someone, but that is not something one confesses to a paid woman. He bears with her touch, it's not really very intimate compared to what he has seen tonight, Manners will come and save him soon.

To distract her, he offers, 'Is there something you'd like me to play for you?'

If she wants him to play, she'll have to take herself elsewhere.

But she merely laughs heartily and takes one of his hands in her own, massaging it gently with very skilled fingers.

'I'd certainly like you to play with me, you have such beautiful hands, can they play any other instruments as well as this piano?'

'Sure, I can play the harpsichord as well as anyone, and I'm not a mean hand with a harp, and even a viol...'

A finger on his lips smells rather strange and enticing, but still he shies from its touch. Unfortunately, that seems to please her, and in one fluid move she is straddling him, her bare thighs squeezing his legs firmly, and both her hands on his shoulders.

This is getting worse and worse, what can he do to get free?

'You're still a virgin, aren't you?'

He's not going to answer that, but he doesn't need to, she seems to smell it on him.

'Have you any idea how that turns me on? After all these men who know exactly what they want, to show a young man how to really please a woman, why don't you start by kissing me? Just one little kiss.'

She's certainly kissing him, tiny, soft kisses on his cheeks, his eyes, his lips even. He is totally frozen by now, the feel of her thighs against his, she's sitting right on top of his manhood and it's starting to get all kinds of ideas. And she is certain to feel it, she's virtually undressed, his hands so want to stroke her bare skin, he has to keep them firmly clasped behind his back, but that leaves him totally exposed to whatever pleases her to do to him. Where is Manners?

'Oh you poor thing, totally confused, why not just listen to your manliness, it knows what to do.'

And she rubs herself against it, this is not fair, he doesn't stand a chance!

'Maybe this will convince you to let go, come to mama.'

Two hands take a gentle but solid hold of his jaws, and pull his face into an almost fully exposed bosom. He has managed to avoid looking at it so far, but there is no resisting her, his frozen state has left him and he is as weak as a newborn lamb, his feelings totally overwhelming him, and when he feels her wealth of flesh all over his face, and his senses overload on the feminine scent of her body, his control just slips through his hands and is irrevocably lost.

One more moment and he'll grab her and kiss her, he knows that is what she wants, but everything remotely resembling discipline seems to have left him. Think of playing the piano, play a scale, up, yes it works! Now back down, and add the variations!

Even thinking of playing calms him down, and just as he manages to lift his head and prepares to shake himself free of the girl, no matter what those other men say or think of him, a calm voice speaks out.

'Melanie, I thought I told all of you to leave the pianist alone? Look what you've done to him, he's all shaken up.

I'm so sorry, Philip, they promised to stay away from you, I guess Melanie here has had a little too much of the brandy.'

Manners has the girl off his lap in a mere second, but her touch and scent cling to his face and have his lust befuddling his brain insistently.

'Better play something, Philip, it will set you mind to other things. Once again, I'm so sorry, I promised to take good care of you and I failed you.

Play that lively bit of you concerto, it'll put your mind on other things.'

Mechanically, Eric does, and soon enough it calms his body down, after which his mind quickly follows.

The rest of the evening, Manners stays close, and after his own near escape, Eric notices that the girls do not come on to Manners at all, nor does he show the slightest inclination to touch any of them. Is he so incredibly disciplined, is he in love with Georgiana, too?

The shocking thing is, it doesn't even matter. If Mr Darcy wants his sister to marry Mr Manners, she will. And she will not be unhappy with a man like Manners, but Eric does flatter himself that his own burning love for her would make her happier, even though she'd be less rich.