[Eleanor]: 668.Amelia.Chapter X

X.

The master was well pleased with Amelia’s performance at the christening dinner and ordered her and Lorenzo to keep working together. They continued to meet for an hour every day, learning new repertoire and perfecting Amelia’s vocal techniques. Often the master would ask the two musicians to perform for him and the mistress and they would present their latest pieces. They played for the guests who attended the mistress’ frequent dinners, and Elsa worked her “magic” on Amelia’s face each time. She also permanently altered the young mistress’ mauve dress as it became obvious she would never fit into it again.  

The days and months flew by and Amelia’s anxieties faded into the background, but there was still something missing. One day she asked Lorenzo if he knew of a harp in the house she could borrow, and the very next morning he produced an instrument for her inspection. It was larger than the one she was used to, and quite a bit more elaborate. She sat in a chair and tried to find a comfortable position holding it before she ran her thumb across its strings. She winced at how out of tune it was.

“Where did you find this, Lorenzo?” she asked as she tuned it to the harpsichord.

“It was hanging on the wall in the young master’s old bedroom. No one has played it in a long time, judging from the shape the strings are in. Be careful they don’t break on you,” he warned.

“Lorenzo,” asked Amelia, “have you been with the master’s family very long?”

Lorenzo smiled and said, “Sometimes it feels as though I have spent my whole life here. I was engaged when the children were young to be their music teacher and I have been here ever since.”

“Have you never wanted to leave?” Amelia asked. She tried a few experimental chords.

“Many times,” admitted Lorenzo, “but somehow I never did. The children grew up, got married, left home and the master kept me on to play for him and the mistress in the evenings, or for their parties. When the grandchildren are old enough, I suppose they’ll want me to teach them, too. It could be worse, I suppose. At least they appreciate good music here.”

“Well,” said Amelia, “I seem to have wrestled this beast into tune. Maybe we can try playing something together.” She sorted through the various piles of sheet music on her stand until she found one that would work on the instrument. She showed the title to Lorenzo and he found the corresponding copy in his own pile. After a couple of false starts they agreed on a tempo and played the piece through to the end.

“You play the harp very well, Amelia,” he said. “Why did you not tell me this before?”

Amelia then told Lorenzo about learning to play from her grandmother and how she had tried to run away from her problems by leaving her home and everything that she associated with it, including the beautiful harp Nana had given her. But she was sorry she had not taken it, for it was now in the hands of a stranger, the blind harpist in Mistress Pyms’ nephew’s troupe. She was hoping to save her money and buy it back from him, if at all possible. Lorenzo listened quietly and when she was done said, “I will help you if I can. I have a little put by that I can afford to part with if it would help you get your instrument back.”

“Oh, Lorenzo,” cried Amelia, “I don’t know how I would ever pay you back!”

The harpsichordist smiled kindly. “No need to worry about that now. Let’s try that piece again, shall we?”

When Amelia returned to the kitchen, Mistress Roach had a message for her from Mistress Pyms. There was news from her nephew, and the cook grudgingly gave Amelia the afternoon off. She looked forward to seeing the candle merchant, for it had been many months since they had last met and she enjoyed the older woman’s company.

Sarah greeted Amelia at the door and sent her directly into the back room while she finished waiting on a customer. Amelia put the kettle on and found the biscuits so that she had the table set when the older woman joined her.

“Amelia, dear,” she said, “it’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Amelia apologized. “I wanted to come visit sooner, it’s just that it’s so hard to get away. The master has me practising with Lorenzo every day and I still have to make up my scouring. So I’ve had very little free time. I begged Mistress Roach to let me off this afternoon, promising I would work till midnight, if necessary.”

“Well then, we’d best take advantage of the time we do have,” said Mistress Pyms. She fetched a letter from a shelf against the wall and unfolded it. “Jason wrote me and said that he and his boys will be returning this way at the end of the month. They’re playing at Gareth and Martha’s again, but they have also agreed to stay the next week and entertain daily in the market square while the farmer’s harvest festival is on.” She looked up from the page and said, “What do you think of those rutabagas?”

Amelia was so surprised by the expression that she spat out the tea she was in the act of swallowing. “I’m so sorry!” she cried, trying to mop of the mess she had made. 

“Don’t worry about it,” laughed the candle merchant. “It is I who should be apologizing for making you choke. Now Jason did ask me specifically about that masked girl with the gorgeous voice and wanted to know if I had any way of contacting you and letting you know they would love you to join them, if possible, for any of their shows. Can you be tempted, my dear?” Sarah cocked her head on one side and gave the girl a questioning look.

Amelia sat silent. How could she possibly say no? It would be a dream come true to play with these musicians. If only she could get her harp back from Frederick. There must be some deal she could strike with him. She knew that the paltry amount she had saved from her toils would not nearly cover what it was worth, or provide enough for him to purchase another. Then she had a thought.

“I would absolutely love to,” she replied. “I just need to find some way to escape from the kitchen. But I will. This is too wonderful an opportunity to pass up.”

She finished her tea and practically skipped all the way back to the great house. Out of breath she burst into the kitchen to take up her rag at the washtub again when Mistress Roach met her, her face uncharacteristically long.

“Emily,” she said as she took the girl’s arm, “something has happened. The master asked me to tell you.”

“What?” cried Amelia. “What is it?”

The head cook fought to keep her voice even. “Lorenzo,” she said, “he’s passed away.”

“No!” yelled Amelia, disbelieving. “He can’t have! I just saw him this morning! We played through a sonata together. He was fine. He was just a little tired. But he was fine!” The girl stood there in shock, not moving, unable to believe what she had just heard.

Mistress Roach pulled her into an embrace. “I’m sorry, love. He was eating his lunch and he just fell off his chair, dead. I’m so sorry.” 

Amelia burst into tears. “It can’t be! It can’t be!” she sobbed into the cook’s shoulder. The other girls crowded round, not knowing what to do, uncomfortable with this sudden show of emotion. Bess separated herself from the group and gently extricated the smaller girl from Mistress Roach’s arms. “Come, Emily,” she said, “I’ll take you to your room.”

Amelia allowed herself to be led, still sobbing, back to her cell where Bess quietly closed the door. She sat down on the edge of her bed, dazed. How could Lorenzo be gone? she asked herself. Everything had been so fine, so fine. Now it was all going to end. Everything. How could she go on without him? It was like losing her grandmother all over again. Lorenzo had filled that gap in her life and suddenly he was gone and she was empty. Empty. She threw herself on her pillow and wept. 

For the next several days Amelia was in a fog. She went through the motions of working and eating, but showed no interest in anything. During the hour she would normally have spent in rehearsal with Lorenzo, she sat in the music room, harp in lap, and listlessly ran her fingers over the strings and hummed her grandmother’s songs. It was there that the master found her staring into space, tears threatening to overwhelm her. He laid his hand sympathetically on her shoulder and spoke.

“Emily, I’m terribly sorry about Lorenzo. He was a valued retainer. He’d been with us for many, many years. My wife and I would appreciate it greatly if you would sing something at his funeral tomorrow. He had no family, so we are doing the honours.”

Amelia nodded, yes. Of course. Lorenzo had been her friend. It was the least she could do.

The funeral took place in the family chapel. The master and mistress were joined by their grown children who had all been Lorenzo’s pupils, and by many of the servants who had known him well. After the vicar read the eulogy, Amelia mounted the dais and sat in a chair, harp in lap. The congregation waited as she closed her eyes and gathered strength from somewhere deep inside herself. Then she began to play the same tune she had sung at her grandmother’s funeral so many years ago, a song of love lost, found, and then lost again, of infinite sorrow and undiminished joy. Her voice soared in the vaulted ceiling of the chamber, and then faded away slowly after she finished. There wasn’t a dry eye in the chapel. Even the vicar was wiping tears away with the edge of his stole.

Lorenzo was buried in the family cemetery and a small marker erected over his grave. The mourners adjourned for a bite to eat in the dining room before returning to their normal daily lives. Amelia went back out to the graveside and sat a vigil with her harp until darkness fell and it became too chilly and damp to remain. She had not scrubbed a single pot that day. When she went back to her room, she vowed she would never scour another.