The quiet of the afternoon had filled the premises of the Kingsport Red Cross, and over her shoulder Alice saw Nan talking in her lively way, in a corner, and she was twirling a piece of jewelry on a chain, the jewelled luster of the ruby seemed to be muted.
Di looked up, from her errand of hemming sheets, and remarked in low confidental voice. "Few days ago, when I was at Perennial offices I went through Walter's literary archives more closely. Of course, I knew that he appreciated Blake's poetry high, but it was still a little surprising to find handful of notebooks full of observations, related to his own work, and Blakeian style imitations. He had tried to write a kind of epic poem, like The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, in his last autumn, before going to the front, perhaps he had tried to imagine what awaited him. Walter had interpreted the Proverbs of Hell from his own point of view, and there was a Blake-like flight and cynicism in it. That series of poems was very bleak, though it was only a draft, full of cross-outs. Those papers are half smudged and nearly torn. And while browsing through his output and sketches, I noticed something that I haven't thought about before. The Rosamund sonnets are not the only series of poems where the Muse figure appears between verses, and almost always, it is a fair woman. Naturally it might be an imitation of Hellenistic or Arthurian or Chaucerian courtly love of quests and obstacles, and it is only a small hint, now and then, as he inverts and transforms, his verses into pure star-shine narratives, but that detail caught my eye."
Alice, fingering Una's letter in her pocket said, in her sweetly fond way. "Well, if it's any consolation to you dearest Di quite often Walter used to quote Blake to me. He sometimes, as we strolled in the parks of Kingsport, quoted, in that impish way of his, and then he laughed, with amused glee. "
What is it men in women do require?
The features of gratified Desire.
What is it women do in men require?
The features of gratified Desire.
Di, glanced at Alice, and nodded thoughtfully, as the confidences and vague and fierce advice that Walter had shared with her in his last letters were sacrosant. Nevertheless it had still been surprisingly painful to read her dear brother's texts, for they were but a light, stiff shell of the blazing talent that had been Walter Cuthbert Blythe.
And lightly intertwining their fingers, Di said softly, "I had forgotten that Blake was almost like a code to you two. Is that why you started sewing poetry quotes into handkerchiefs?"
Alice, softly rubbed the palm of Di's left hand, which had a pale purple ink stain, as she lightly shook her head, and lightly remarked, "Nothing that profound. I just noticed that if I sold my crafts at the fairs, the verse handkerchiefs might sell well, which they have done."
The light scent of raspberry cordial wafted through Primrose Hollow drawing room as Alice pored over Una's letter, in the distance she heard Nan's light laugh as she poured the cordial into the light bottle, as Di said, mischievously. "Thankfully it's just cordial and not house wine."
The domestic chaos slowly disappeared around Alice, and she could almost smell the scent of molasses bisquits, and furniture polish, that subtle scent that often had lingered in the rooms of Glen's Presbyterian Manse. Una's delicate copperplate cursive was neat, as always.
Dear Alice!
I have found some time to myself, so I decided to write to you. At present I sit in the verdant shade of Rainbow Valley, and the stream lapping beside me, like a silver ribbon, and all nature around me glows with the rich golden ripeness of August. My state of being has been unsettled, there is no reason to worry. Everyday life here is sometimes heavy, gossip, and rumors, and discussions about the development of the front.
A childhood friend of mine experienced some hard news, but she now walks the streets of the Glen with her usual vigor, which is supremely patriotic, like a candle burning in a dark night. Perhaps one could think that each of us on the home front are a kind of candle and our everyday toil, our broken nails, scratched fingers, aching backs, in this season of haymaking, and our frozen social smiles are the sacrifice we give willingly for the soldiers, as they are sitting in the trenches, or waiting for the signal to go over when the whistle blows.
For me it's too easy to be exactly what Glen's people imagine Manse's people to be, i.e. blameless and quiet and sweetly helpful Manse's child, who always gives of herself selflessly. I've never been a rebel, that's always been Faith's role. My dear sister can't help but change the world, one life-saving patient at a time, far away in misty England.
I try to stay positive, but sometimes it's very challenging, especially in these times when news that arrives are never ending, or so it seems sometimes. It's almost scary to wake up to a new morning, but the morning brings grace, and the fears that torment during the night usually subsides, sooner or later, but I'm sure you might struggle with similar feelings, or at least I hope so.
You inquired if anyone had made me feel visible, and I have to admit that one has, even momentarily, and that feeling is extreme, and confusing. It seems that in addition to your studies, you have concentrated closely on music and performing, and I admit that on the relatively rare occasions when I have managed to forget the presence of the audience, I have felt as if I had gained wings, although of course I have been in my place behind the piano or the organ.
Being a vocalist is more prominent and if you'll allow me the courtesy of having seen both you and Irene Howard perform, you might be a little better in your own interpretations, because whenever Irene performs she seems cold, even if the song is an extremely sentimental and romantic ballad, and the audience only sees Irene, not the emotional state that the music conveys.
However, it should be noted that the other week Irene arrived at choir practice after a long break, and her previous mannerisms were muted and suppressed, so perhaps there is hope. Rosemary was pleased, but Irene seemed very modest, not a hint of red anywhere. I have sometimes glanced at that Puccini you have spoken of, and which Persis Ford also likes, if I remember rightly, and sometimes Rosemary has hinted that perhaps I might play it, but I hesitate, for I am good at the piano, and though my singing voice has been praised, as "silver moonlight," once, I am content with my part, and leave the limelight to the likes of Irene, and to you.
Bruce is growing tall like a weed, it's nice to see that some of his innocence is still preserved.
Loving greetings,
UCM
While folding Una's letter, Alice distantly heard Di's light laugh from the kitchen corner. Una's careful words reflected a similar chaos that she had been trying to sort out, for some time. Madeline's words had helped, and another perspective came from Una that she hadn't thought she would get, as Una was so very renticent, it was a quality that Alice approved.
Di, glanced sharply across the drawing-room. Alice had at last folded her letter and her sewing aside, as she did so, she had hummed, something haunting, as she crept up the stairs, in moments she had vanished from view. It was about time, because in a couple of hours they all should be at Gardiner Hall. Nan, glanced in Di's direction, as she was carrying, cattle full of berry porridge to the cold storage, its light pale red color matching Nan's dress.
Di, wearily, rubbed her forehead, as she thought of Dorian's stubborn expression when he had evasively dodged Di's questions about the Hall's program at the Perennial's last meeting. Dorian had jerked his little petal pink, scarf straight into line and as he had said, "There are changes, you'll see." And after that enigmatic remark, he had been completely focused on Editor Saunders' suggestions, and Di, too, had snapped her mind off the amusements and concentrated on the work.
Di, slipped towards the staircase to prepare her toilette for this most auspicious of occasions. Suddenly Nan exclaimed, "Di, remember to take your gloves, for your fingers are quite black with ink, you can't be without them, it would be extremely unladylike. Fortunately, you are not in the habit of standing before the fire, as Alcott's Jo March did, though you are a writer, like her."
Di, laughed lightly, and said mischievously, "Don't worry, Nanlet, we have several pairs of gloves, and nobody has a patchwork dress, and I don't write gothic horror stories like the esteemed Miss March did. Dorian is as far from Teddy Lawrence as possible, even though he is dark-haired, as you yourself know."
Nan's light laughter was carried upstairs as a distant ringing, when Di opened the wardrobe and examined the selection. Thoughtfully, she stroked the fabrics, and near the back she found one, which she held up to the light, and slowly Di found herself nodding.
About twenty minutes later, Nan came into the twins' room, a slight look of surprise in her dark eyes when she noticed what garment Di had brought out. Nan was silent for a moment, and then, she slipped her arm around Di's waist, as they had done before August 1914, and Nan nodded, a small smile on her lips, and said contentedly, "Now it's a pity we don't have a camera."
Di, green-grey eyes twinkled, "Not likely to be in the Hall, but you never know. Cameras are more Ford family style, as despite his writing, Uncle Owen likes to keep up with visual media."
Alice heard Nan's soft laugh, from the twins' room, there was a light edge to Nan's laugh that it hadn't had before, not before last Easter. Alice, with an instinctive gesture, swiped her honey-colored rosary on the table, the small round beads were smooth in her fingers, as she rolled them to and fro, and taking a deep breath she opened her wardrobe. The white box with its deep red silk ribbons seemed to taunt her. Alice, irritated, turned her back on the box, and the promise of silken splendour it contained. Carefully, Alice's fingers selected possibilities among the hangers, cotton, organza, silk, and the barest touch of old lace. Alice, slowly seated herself on the windowsill, as she muttered in a low voice, a strand of Blake.
Or an Eye of gifts & graces, show'ring fruits and coined gold?
Why a Tongue impress'd with honey from every wind?
Why an Ear, a whirlpool fierce to draw creations in?
Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire?"
A light knock sounded, and Di slipped into the room, and lightly remarked, "Ah, you were dreaming, by the window, in your shift. I imagined there would be a chaos of clothes here, like our room, but naturally there is not. Nan has turned everything almost upside down again, as she hunts one special dress. Thompson will arrive soon, Dorian is being too generous again, I tried to stop him, but as usual, he didn't listen."
Alice, took a jewelry box from her dressing table, which she handed to Di, saying, "This was my grandmother's, and I thought it might suit you, for tonight." Carefully, Di opened the dark green velvet box, and a beam of light sparkled on the oval shaped-collar necklace, it was intricately carved with ethereal, roses and lilies, and twisting ivy vines.
Di looked up, at Alice, speechless. As Alice, carefully lifted, the necklace, and slipped it into place, with a small smile on her lips, Alice glanced at Di and stated, "I was right, it does suit you."
Di, pressed a light kiss to Alice's lips, and was about to do more, as Nan's stressed voice, hurriedly called out, "Di, will you help with my buttons?" With a wink, Di slipped out.
All alone, for a few moments still, Alice glanced into the wardrobe, as she brought out a dress, its rustling, rustling hems, slowly spreading open, she was softly humming Schubert's softly alluring Ständchen. The nightingale sang, soft, bright note in the shady garden of Primrose Hollow.
Variegated lanterns illuminated the well-kept sandy paths and Gardiner Hall spread out in all its splendor, on a mild August evening, the greenhouse was illuminated. Cars were curving into the yard in a slow trickle. Crowds, colorfully dressed, and modest in style, butterick patterns, of military-style, and old re-used summer dresses, mingled on the grass, and there was a small line around the greenhouses, people queuing to get in, to admire the colorful orchids, ferns rampant, and turtles swam quietly on the surface of the pond, where a few water lilies floated. A faint echo of delighted laughter mingled with the cooing of the pigeons as they flew to their nests. The wild ivy swayed on the walls of the Hall in the breeze, like a whisper from the past.
Dorian Gardiner, stood in the library, and looked out into the soon darkening evening, occasionally he swiped the collars of his gray suit, cautiously. The choice of clothes had been important, because lighter tones, such as soft peach or cream, created the wrong atmosphere. If he was going to be serious, his demeanor should reflect that as well.
Faintly Dorian smiled, for, he perceived the smell of a familiar perfume, the scent was mellow, and woodsy, subtly wafting into the room, and almost at the same moment, Aunt Dorothy's voice remarked, half cheerfully, "Brooding, already, it's not fitting, not today, happy birthday dear Dorian!"
On the library table was a large crystal vase full of peach-colored roses, with a smile, Dorothy folded one and slipped it into Dorian's coat, remarking, "This will liven up your ensemble, so you don't look so serious anymore."
Dorian, smiled openly at his Aunt, and said quietly, thoughtfully, " I have wondered if Valentine would be proud of me, today?"
Dorothy, glanced at Dorian, and she said in her light, snappy, warm way, "Certainly." A mischievous smile appeared in Dorian's eyes, and he countered, "And when Gardiner says something like that to another Gardiner, it can't be anything but the truth, although there are many kinds of truths." Dorothy nodded, in a solemn way, and gracefully extended her gloved arm to her nephew, and slowly they left the library to the antechamber, where laughter and the hum of greetings resounded, as flower vines in the color of the British flag were tied to the railings of the Victor Hortia staircase, they made the hall even more festive than usual as calvacade of bluenoses greeted each other.
Dorian barely covered his grimace, noticing that Adeline's entire circle of Laides Aid was present, with their spouses. Tired-looking men in Victorian mustaches and sideburns, signet rings glinting, in thick fingers that looked like little sausages.
Champagne, and perfumes hung lightly in the air as the crowd mingled, in small streams towards ballroom, and downstairs salon rooms, green, red, and blue, that were opened for this occasion.
Adeline Gardiner, felt satisfied, as everything were running smoothly, so far. Roy had given an exemplary opening speech, which had emphasized Dorian's own will to have his birthday on a smaller scale, due to the war, he had remarked, perhaps a little sadly, that here too a few acquaintances were missing, for they were either fulfilling their duty, or they would never return. Soft violin music echoed in the evening, donation containers had been sprinkled in carefully chosen places, Dorian had insisted on it very resolutely.
She caught a glimpse of Dorian and Dorothy, across the hall, they seemed to be talking excitedly, with a dark-haired woman in a light, delphinium blue dress. Adeline, out of the corner of her eye, she caught Roy talking surprisingly cheerfully with a man who looked familiar, he had a beautiful bouquet of dark red roses in his hand.
Then, she heard Christine's patiently amused, voice say from behind her " Apparently Andrew is going to plant our roses here, or some seedlings, at least, as a gift, for Dorian, I advocated some other gift, more suitable to his Gardiner station, but apparently Roy had told Andrew that Dorian likes to putter in your greenhouse."
Adeline turned, and said, in her patently superior manner, "Darling, I knew you'd come up with something, you always do so. That dress of yours isn't Chanel, is it?" Christine, smiled, and said lightly, "No, this is old Paul Poiret."
Adeline, nodded thoughtfully, and replied, "You know, I haven't seen you wear any other shade than blue in years, but why would you change, because that shade suits you like a glove."
The deep blue charmeau glimmered in the light as Christine shifted her position, lightly, and said, "I was seriously considering Chanel, but settled on this." Adeline, grabbed two champagne glasses from the tray, and handed one to Christine, and said, "Shall we?"
About fifteen minutes later, as they had glided and circled their way to men, Adeline observed, Andrew Dawson, and Christine together, they were impressive, all dark and fair, as they were talking heads bent toward each other, in small corniche.
Adeline noticed that the handsome, slender man with the powerful, intense blue eyes and blond hair and body of an ex-athlete, or a dancer, seemed distant, and a little bored. So irritably, Adeline said in her cuttingly polite style, "Mr. Dawson, how do you like Gardiner Hall?" Andrew Dawson, glanced around, and said in a soothing baritone, "The setting is handsome, but so are many other places, in all over Europe and beyond, that I have seen with my various travels, but I have to admit that greenhouse is impressive, very 1890s in a way. It lends curious air to the whole grounds."
Christine, glancing at Adeline, said deceptively lightly, " Andrew, does like his thunderstorms, and suffocating humidity, especially whiskey if it's available, at least occasionally." Adeline felt that the conversation had gone off the rails, so she said, "Well, quite, it has been humid this August." Christine's eyes twinkled, as she said, "Addie, Addie, you're so literal sometimes."
Adeline saw Royal stiffen a little and curiously, Adeline glanced at where her brother's attention was drawn. Three girlish figures walked along the sandy path, a dark haired one in a light, hazy, rose-red organza, a slender and red-haired one in a pale cream dress that looked straight out of the 1870s, its chiffon top embroidered with little rosebuds all over, and a third blonde girl, in a silk dress that was an old rose gold tone, with a distinctly Edwardian cut.
Adeline frowned as she saw Dorian waving his glowed hand in a ridiculous fashion as he exclaimed, in most joyful and living tone of voice. "Nan, and Di, and Alice, it's lovely that you all could come!"
Adeline noticed how Christine, said to Roy, in her cat-like lightness, "How amusing, deja vu, isn't it?" Royal, drained his glass of champagne in one gulp, and said in a voice that Adeline hardly recognized as her brother's, "Frugality is a virtue, but still, for a moment it felt as if the years had gone backwards, luckily the orchestra didn't play polonaise, that would have been too much."
The violins shimmered and the Swan from Saint-Saëns's Carnival of the Animals played, softly and brightly. Adeline felt Andrew Dawson take her arm with a soft, grip and say, "Shall we leave them to reminisce, would you like to dance perhaps?" Adeline, nodded affirmatively, as they filed into the crowd.
The waltzes followed each other, and all the time Adeline felt that something was wrong, because Andrew was present, but somehow not, there was light and subtle scent of white musk and hint of creamy ylang-ylang, that was somehow foppish. The enchanting, soft waltz sped up, and when it ended, out of breath, Adeline handed Andrew over to Christine, as they in turn slipped into dance floor.
Royal appeared to be conversing with somebody, and as Adeline went up to them, on coming nearer, she was surprised to discover that it was Miss Dobson, who for once looked almost presentable. Adeline, remarked, in a voice that was like silk over steel, "Miss Dobson, there are unfortunately no family secrets to spill here tonight, I do not think!" On Madeline Dobson's features flashed a narrow, bitter smile, as she said, "Good evening, Adeline, young Mr. Gardiner's birthday, this fine evening, seems more like a charity collection for the Allied Cause, than a young man's coming of age celebration. There are so few things, one perhaps dares to do under such illustrious and epolent roof, as Hall has."
Adeline's face narrowed, and paled. Madeline, said soothingly " If I may say so, he yearns that somebody would listen to him." Adeline snorted in mild disbelief.
Royal, put down his whiskey glass on the tray, and in one smooth montion, extended his hand to Miss Dobson, and nodded in the direction of the dance-floor, as Adeline said bitingly, "Well, Roy, don't be completely absurd!"
Madeline Dobson, glanced coolly towards Royal Gardiner and said, "I see an acquaintance over there, excuse me for not dancing. I'm sure there are others here who are willing."
Adeline, laughed lightly, as Roy emptied his whiskey glass with a light flick of the wrist, as she said, "It appears that some are indeed immune to your charm, dearest brother of mine."
Adeline followed Miss Dobson with her eyes, as she did so, she found Dorothy engaged in lively conversation with her, and there was also unknown auburnhaired woman with them, she was dressed in flowing burgundy, soon they were out of sight. In a low voice, Adeline muttered, "I should have known that here are some Dorothys little circle too, that must be Dorian´s or more likely, Dorothy´s work."
A few hours had passed, and the girls of Primrose Hollow and Dorian had escaped the mild chaos of the staircase vestibule, and the ballroom. Di Blythe swept the reddish copper curl that had come out of her low bun, and listened with amusement to Nan and Dorian's eager literary conversation, of epistolary tradition that had been going on for some time, in the greenish salon, which was furnished in a comfortably lofty style, a soft pale pink and white Abusson rug covering the floor. A graceful Empire divan covered with imperial blue silk glistening dimly in the bright light that flooded from graceful wall sconces. Small bookshelves lined the walls.
Dorian, said in mock affronted manner, "Nan, think about the impact of De Laclos' novel, that is, socially!" Nan, threw a swift repartee, "But what about Pamela, next you'll appeal to Pope's production?"
Di, glanced at Alice, whose cheeks were burning with a pinkish peony glow, but there was nothing strange about it, for the room was warm. Alice gasped suddenly sharply, as a sudden shadow appeared on the threshold, it was revealed to be none other than Christine Stuart Dawson, who glided, regally to the divan opposite them.
Di, observed how, Christine Stuart Dawson, glanced her from head to foot and she did so, she seemed very amused, and said in her resonant, trained voice, "Well, how quant, and intimate little gathering you all happen to have here, only thing missing is a deck of cards, but that would not be suitable, would it. You are all devouringly lovely, tonight, and if dance cards were in use, I´m sure that all spots would have been taken, in a instant. Though Dorian, it must be said that gray is not your shade, but that rose is a pleasant and uplifting detail. Miss Diana Blythe, may I congratulate you, that dress suits you quite well, it is memorable, in its own way."
Di, raised her eyes, to Christine Stuart Dawson's dark blue, almost violet eyes, which were more startling than Alice's, now that she saw them in the direct light, as she said with impish Blythian humor in her voice, "Thank you, for the courtesy!"
A small smile played on Christine's reddened lips as she replied, lightly, " Not, at all, it was a pleasure. Alice, a few moments of your time, if I may? " Alice, nodded, and after smiling at Di, one fast vivid flash, and then they were gone.
Dorian stretched, lazily, and remarked, half amusedly, "Di, I don't know if you knew, but Madeleine Dobson came here, for of course I had to invite her, for we have had such interesting conversations, she has with her, a friend with a very interesting attitude to life, they must be with Dorothy, somewhere around here, away from the crowds, I suppose. Try the library, as that place is always so peaceful whenever there are crowds in the Hall."
Nan, straightened her posture, and said persuasively, "Di, you seem strangely excited, do you want to go and find them, as I have a question for Miss Dobson too."
The lively chatter of the Blythe twins died down as they slipped around the corner. Dorian leaned on his canes, and looked at Victor Hortia's staircase, and the flower vines, which were beginning to wither a little, and the flowers fluttered, and with a light sigh, he walked towards the half-open salon, it was the blue one, which was on the left, not the right, of the passage-hall, where the thick miasma of cigar smoke wafted out.
There sat some of Royal's business people, and the brandy glasses rose lightly, as Dorian passed them by, and one of them remarked, in a gruff voice, " Well, young Gardiner, I suppose you will come to our meetings in the autumn, too, for your attentions have been refreshing, you've got a sharp brain, under those curls of yours, it would be pleasure to do more business with you, to further your education as it were. " Dorian turned, and quoted, Dowson, an ironic glint in his eyes.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.
Walrus-whiskered businessman, grunted, and said, "Lyric nonsense, give me a clear stock exchange rather than poetry, I haven't heard since my nursery days." Slightly rough teasing flew, with raucious splattering of laughter. Dorian nodded with a smile, and concentrated on listening to whatever suggestions they had in mind.
In the library of Gardiner Hall, in the colorful glow of soft leather-backed books and spotted marble-papered covers, and William Morris wallpaper, rays of light sparkled on peach-colored roses that spread their faint fragrance through the room. Isabelle and Madeleine sat, next to each other, and Isabelle, glanced around, and said mildly ironically,
" I would still keep my attic apartment."
Dorothy, grinned, and threw a quick air kiss in Isabelle's direction, and quickly turned her head, refocusing on her conversation with Nan Blythe.
Madeline, smiled at Di and said, "Has Alice been tied down with something?" Di, laughed in her silvery way, and said lightly, " Hardly, I should think, Christine Stuart Dawson, strolled in earlier as we all were in the green parlor and she did request a moment with her."
Isabelle, smiled, in her impishly, lush glamorous way, and she said, " Lot of things can happen in moments."
Madeline frowned in Isabelle's direction, as she remembered anew that faintly strained air of distraction that had been all over Alice, at the library only handful of days ago. Madeline tapped her fingers together and said in her brisk way. "Perhaps so."
Nan, looked up, and said in her excited way, "Miss Dobson, thank you for finding that Blake hymn, Jerry was extremely delighted with it, and our correspondence has been very Blake heavy lately, but I do not mind that."
Madeline, nodded, as she and Isabelle stood up, as she said, "Dear Nan, you are welcome to browse collection whenever, it is always a pleasure to have such a client like you at the premises. But now I have to go so that I can open the library tomorrow morning to anyone at all. "
A little later, as they were strolling fragrant August night, Isabelle glanced at Madeline, and she said, "You are not half so good at dissembling as you might imagine." Madeline, sighed, and looked out over the quiet streets of Kingsport, and after a moment of silence, Madeline said, "I was only there today for two reasons, for Dorothy, and because Dorian had invited me there, and I thought you might like it, but about four hours of bluenose standard is quite sufficient for me, at after-work-hours no less!" Isabelle's bright laughter echoed brightly in the evening, as she said, "I thought there might be something like that. Luckily the evening is still relatively young, shall we go to Helene´s place, so that we can dance remaining hours away?"
At Gardiner Hall, orchestra played an atmospheric new vaudeville piece I'm always Chasing Rainbows, those haunting notes echoed, they flooded into red salon, there was a grand piano, on which Christine Stuart Dawson leaned cat-like, as she glanced at Alice, and she hummed, lingeringly È amore un ladroncello. When piece was finished, she remarked,"You look a little flushed, that dress is like August, and it's eminently suitable for this occasion, of semi-formal splendor, that green slik would not have suited half as well as that one does."
Alice glanced at Christine and said, in a low, fervent voice, "I noticed earlier that you are here with your spouse, you were on the dance floor for a while. Shouldn't you go and mingle with him instead of sitting here with me. I might even point out that we're not even practicing!" Christine carelessly waved her hand, and grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray, as she replied, in a caressing soft voice, "Andrew is probably holed up somewhere, in the shadowy, grass-scented corners of this wide estate. I wouldn't be too worried, he knows how to amuse himself, as well as I do, or some might argue, that he does it even better than I."
Christine, circled Alice, from a distance, and said sharply, "If you want to practice, now, feel free. Choose a piece, or aria, but remember to use the emotion, right!"
Alice closed her eyes, and after a moment opened them, and rendered with shimmering precision, and incisively, Händel's Scherza infida. The music glowed like a light enchanting cloud, and after the acapella performance ended, for it had been that in all its frenzy.
Christine smiled completely openly, and said, sincerely, " Brava, my dear, as you see, sometimes emotions are useful, whatever you felt just now, channel it always into piece and into your interpretation. Of course there's still work to be done, there always is. Have a glass of champagne if you want, you've earned it."
Alice, touched the cool narrow leg of the champagne glass, it was like holding, a shrad of ice, Christine smiled, and Alice found herself instinctively, as before, responding to Christine's proximity, as she said, " Well, lets go, the audience has waited enough, and maybe later we can have a little celebration."
The ballroom had been emptied, and the guests of Gardiner Hall, those who were still present, were waiting in the vestibule, the members of the orchestra were scattered in a semi-arched formation, under the Victor Hortia staircase. Alice, walked to the first two steps, and she looked at the audience, and said, " Today is Dorian's birthday, and as he has several pairs of handkerchiefs, and a whole library of books, I thought the only thing I could give to myself was some momentary music." Delius' Songs of Sunsets sparkled, followed by Elgar, and Händel ´s Ombra mai fu.
Afterwards, after the rapturous applause had subsided, Dorian, said with a mischievous smile, "I was half expecting Bizet's Carmen, but that Ombra was even better. How did you know it was my favorite?" Alice, laughed, a light, glimmering sound, as she replied, " Well, I had help. Haven't you ever wondered why Nan has been discussing music and poetry with you so often these past few weeks."
Gardiner Hall was silent, the crystal chandeliers flickered, color of the sky was bluish gray, with a blush of dawn. Royal Gardiner, leaned against the door frame of his study, and looked out into the misty yard. The fog was split by a figure dressed in black, shaking his frock coat, and tired, completely bored, Royal turned his back on the removal of the consequences of some stranger's fun, and with silent steps he walked the rooms of his house, his home, trying not to be buried under the avalanche of memories, of earlier, times, of shimmering laughter, and scent of imported roses. Now there was only melted candle stubs, empty glasses, and overflowing collection containers, the faint scent of cigars and perfume, and somewhere in these rooms there was definitely a love affair going on, or two, it was almost sure as sunrise.