“I do not think you will have much competition from the earlier performances,” Lady Sanders continued. “I try to encourage some of the younger generation, but I put the less talented on first before the hall has filled up, then try to scatter the real musicians through the program to leaven the dough, so to speak. Now, Kingsley, you have failed to volunteer, and you have such a beautiful voice. Can I persuade you to entertain us later in the evening?”
Poppy glanced at him. James sang?
“I have been so busy with the estate’s affairs, and I have not practiced anything in a long time. You have a long list; I begged to be excused,” James said politely but with a great deal of charm. “I also have a matter to speak about with Worsley…”
James’s scowl blackened, and Poppy had to look away before her laughter escaped. Where Worsley had vanished to, Poppy had no notion, but James could not use anything with his friend as an excuse.
Lady Sanders harrumph. “You know perfectly well, young man, that this is a great opportunity for me. You have not attended any musicale in years, and now you are at mine. A triumph! There will be an outcry if you do not sing at least the Elf King. Do you think you could play the accompaniment to that, Miss Ashford? I have the music if you need it; most of the pianists here would not be up to the mark for playing so difficult a piece. What are you planning on playing, by the way?”
Poppy hid her smile at James’s consternation. “I was thinking of a Chopin étude and possibly a piece of Mendelssohn, but I know the Elf King and can play it with the music. It has been a while since I played it, but it was one of my brother’s favorites.”
“Excellent! Well, that’s all organized. You have an accompanist, and I, for one, will accept no excuses. I will have the music found and sent over so you can remind yourself of the music Kingsley will sing.”
Lady Sanders moved on to the next guests, and James turned to Poppy.
“You sing?” she asked, staring up at him.
“Like a frog. I cannot imagine why she would want to subject her guests.”
Poppy smiled. “I am certain it is nothing of the sort or Lady Sanders would not have trapped you so thoroughly.”
There was a look she could not decipher as he stared down at her.
“Do you really not mind playing for me? The Elf King is a bit of a stinker with all those rumbling broken chords.”
Poppy chuckled, amused with his droll wit. “I rather like it, although it does need a good singer to maintain all that histrionic dread. It is easier to play than Chopin. I suspect he must have had giant hands to make all the stretches.”
James nodded, scanning the crowd. “His portraits do suggest that he had beautiful hands. I wish I had been able to hear him in person. I believe he still performs in Paris occasionally.”
The ballroom was quickly filling up, and although Poppy could see where her family was seated in the second row of the sitting arrangements, they took no notice of her or James and his family. The longer that debacle could be postponed the better in her opinion.
A gentleman she assumed was Lord Sanders climbed the dais and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, would you please find your seats, the performances are about to begin.”
Daphne’s party sat themselves towards the rear of the ballroom and settled down to listen to the first performers. Poppy was painfully aware that James sat beside her. Every shift, even if a slight one, felt as if heat rippled through her. Did he feel it too, this connection between them? Or was it all Poppy’s imagination?
More glasses of wine were being handed around as a trio of three girls ascended the dais. One seated herself with her music at the piano, and the others clustered around. The seated audience were still gossiping amongst themselves, but Lord Sanders glared at everyone and struck his cane on the floor to silence them.
Poppy noticed that the three girls were similar in appearance and suspected they were sisters. The girl at the piano played and sang a traditional song and her sisters sang along with her. Poppy thought they were lovely and did well despite their apparent nervousness. The three sisters were revealed as the Misses Jepson when Lord Sanders thanked them for their efforts. There was a brief round of applause although it was louder in one quarter of the ballroom where family or friends showed some partiality.
The second performer was an ethereal blonde, dressed in ivory satin. She floated across the dais to the harp and seated herself behind it. Beautiful notes rippled from the strings in harmony and seemed to vaguely describe a melody. Her performance was at least not painful to the ears, however, as her piece continued it was clear the young lady’s sense of rhythm was erratic and that beyond the approximate selection of the strings lacked any real understanding of the music itself. By the end of the piece Poppy was anxious for her and thought she acquitted herself pleasantly.
One young buck stood and scandalously called out, “Bellissima!” and blew kisses to the blonde.
The announcement for the third performer was given after the blonde, Lady Lucinda, had curtsied herself off. Poppy started as she realized the next performer was to be her sister. She looked radiant in a pale blue gown, but Poppy found herself anxious as Rebecca sat down at the piano. Poppy charitably prayed that her half-sister would perform well. As Rebecca began to play a hush fell over the audience, then several of the matrons snapped their fans opened and noisily fluttered them in front of their noses. Poppy glanced around the room. Some people were sitting stoically with pained expressions on their faces, others were wrestling with the desire not to laugh, some even whispered in their neighbors’ ears. Then Poppy noticed that several of the younger men were looking around and studying the ladies and at least two were staring directly at her. Poppy wondered why, because she doubted many would recognize her as Rebecca’s half-sister, they simply did not look alike.
“You are nervous,” James murmured.
“Yes…I…” Poppy smiled ruefully. “I want her to do well.”
“Have I ever told you that you are an amazing person.”
She cast him a quick, startled glance.
“Sometime last week when your stepmother tried to convince me to dance with your lovely sister, Mrs. Ashford spent a remarkable amount of time highlighting your nonexistent charm and skills. Yet here you are so earnestly wanting her to do well, when she would have the opposite thoughts for you.”
“Shh, she’s my half-sister, and despite everything I do love her and hope for her dreams to come true,” Poppy finally said as Rebecca stood to curtsy to the crowd.
The applause was very muted, and it was only when Rebecca realized how little applause she was receiving that her face flushed in chagrin. Then her eyes fell directly on Poppy, clapping and sitting beside James. A look of pure malice stole over her features before quickly being replaced with one of fury.
Poppy gasped to see her sister glaring at her so. Rebecca fled the stage and out of the ballroom, sobbing. Poppy considered going after her sister to comfort her but decided such overtures would not be welcomed and she was to play after the next performance.
The next performer was a young man with a florid complexion and carroty hair and he was accompanied by an older woman who was clearly his accompanist. She looked like a governess of some sort. Her playing was correct and accomplished and she played the introduction to a medley of nautical airs, which the young gentleman sang out in a jolly warbling tenor, ending with Arne’s Rule Britannia, which received rousing cheers from a group of his cronies and considerable applause.