Section I, Next Section
Chapter 1
"Who the hell does he think he is, walking out on me like that?"
Darcien Wills attempted to slam the door to his hotel suite with all of his might, nearly knocking over the much smaller man behind him. He heard a grunt and turned around. All the anger and hostility he had been harboring suddenly took a back burner and a slightly concerned expression now covered his face.
"My apologies, Bing. I didn't realize you were still directly behind me. Are you alright?"
"No harm done, old boy." Bing Charlesby laughed at the stunned expression on his friend's face. "Where else would I have been? I guess I could have been a few feet behind you, possibly. Lagging behind, eh? That would be something I would do, I guess. Well then you would have slammed the door in my face while you were still talking to me and you would have been talking to yourself." He chuckled again. "That would be no fun, now would it?"
Darcien gave a weary laugh and brushed his hands through his hair. "Its not the time for fun, Bing, you know that."
Bing immediately got serious. "Since when has Rachmaninoff not been fun? For you anyway. If I were sitting around trying to play the tune to 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' on the piano I would be in agony."
Darcien, remembering his tirade, stomped over to the leather couch in the middle of the room, plopping down in the middle, a few of the dark shiny curls he was constantly brushing his hands through falling into his eyes. "I've been playing Rachmaninoff for fifteen years, Bing. It's always been work."
"There was a time you thought tickling those ivories was the greatest, most invigorating thing in the world, and that's when I decided to be not just your friend, but your manager. Somehow I feel you've lost that." Bing sat down next to him on the couch, leaning into the corner to look at the younger man leaning over his knees. He looked for all the world more like a child of twelve rather than a man of twenty, even in his black turtleneck and jeans. "What's wrong, Wills?"
Stopping himself from running his right hand through his hair yet another time, Darcien leaned back on the couch and heaved a sigh. "Nothing. Everything." He turned ninety degrees so he was facing Bing. "I'm twenty years old, Bing. I haven't seen the inside of a real school building since I was thirteen. I've devoted more than half of my entire life to two tons of wood, steel and ivory. I'm just...confused, I guess. I don't know."
You're more that confused, old boy, he thought. "I think you need a break, old boy. And you might just get your wish if you keep doing what you did today."
Darcien smirked. "What I did? He was the one that walked out in the middle of the rehearsal!" Just twenty minutes ago the run through of Darcien's performance of Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto had ended very abruptly.
"Wills, he's the conductor of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, for goodness' sake, and you took his baton, attempting to show him how to end the second movement!" lightening the mood, Bing continued. "Heavens, if I were in his place, we would have had to build a ring right there on the stage for us to work out our differences!"
"Bella!" Her stepsister was not answering her.
"BELLA!" Still no response. Jeannie walked closer to the couch that her stepsister was curled up into the corner of, staring intently at a book. Upside down.
"ISABELLA JANE BARRETT!!!"
Jerking her head up to look around for her stepsister, Bella broke out of her reverie. What had she been daydreaming about?
"How's the book?"
Bella stared down at the book in her lap, which was opened upside down. She had no idea how it got there or what it was about. She brushed wavy copper streaked hair out of her eyes and closed the book. The Pianist. She'd just seen the film, and had started to read the book a couple weeks before between books for school. If asked at that moment she couldn't tell what was presently happening. "It's not so bad." Looking into Jeannie's pale green eyes, she caved in. "Okay, I have no clue. I kind of just went blank for a bit. Anne called while you were down at the Hall."
Anne, Jeannie's mother, had married Isabella's father Ben ten years ago, when Bella had been nine and Jeannie was fourteen. Even through the age differences, the two became good friends, especially in the later years when Bella needed an older confidante, yet one not so old as Anne. Jeannie's mother, nice and wonderful as she was, had very old fashioned views about women and marriage and had been wondering for months why Jeannie had moved into the city and allowed the younger girl to live with her while she went to Columbia, when she could be doing better things, like getting married and settling in Westchester County. Bella thought Jeannie was doing well for herself, having an apartment on the Island, being first chair in the clarinet section of the New York Phil, seeing guys relatively often. Yes, Bella thought her stepsister was doing very well for herself. Especially practically supporting me.
Glancing at her watch, Belle hopped up and started darting across the room collecting stuff for her next series of classes. Jeannie felt like a tennis spectator, watching her stepsister run back and forth. She slipped off her shoes and, pulling her curly red hair out of its severe bun as she climbed over the couch to sit on it and turn on the television, she managed to call just before the door closed: "Remind me to tell you when you get back about the most hilarious run through I've done since I graduated high school."
Chapter 2
After spending the rest of the morning easing the nerves of the Phil's seasoned conductor, Bing collapsed into the large cinnamon leather armchair that was perpendicular to the sofa that Darcien was presently lounging across.
"The things I do for friendship."
Darcien laughed. "And other things. I know why you absolutely must be back at Carnegie tonight. I've always noticed your thing for redheads, being one yourself, and if I don't play tonight you won't be able to see that little clarinetist of that particular persuasion."
The next look on Bing's face was a strange cross between a frown and a pout. "First, I don't have a 'thing' for redheads. Second, my hair is merely auburn not true red, and third there is nothing little about this particular one, I'm sure she's older than you are, young man. Besides," he half mumbled, "I'm sure you'd be a no show tonight just to spite me."
Pretending not to have heard his friend's last comment, Darcien stated "I've decided to have a short discourse with the Maestro tonight and allow us to overcome our differences." He hopped over the back of the couch and began pacing in front of the balcony doors. "I just don't understand what his problem was. I never said he was doing anything wrong, only that there were a couple things he could do better." He ran his right hand through his loose curls. Too many people recently had been telling him that he needed to cut his hair to a more conservative length, but he preferred having six inches of hair covering his eyes while he played. It helped him concentrate.
"The American ego is surpassed only by the British*, my boy. You just gave unnecessary criticism to a man who has probably been holding that baton since before you were born. Surely you can understand why he's a bit ... miffed about it? And for goodness' sake, sit down! We have to go over some things. And we've got forty five minutes to get back down to the Hall to go over the piece-without interruption-one last time before the final performance tonight. So take a few breaths, do a few fingering exercises and meet me down in the lobby." With this he rose and strode out the door.
Once on the other side Bing leaned against the wall after pressing the button for the elevator. For at least the next few minutes he could think about nicer things. Like the red headed clarinetist.
When he'd first glimpsed her striding confidently towards her seat, it was as though he'd caught a glimpse of heaven. Five-ten, green eyes, long legs, great skin. Perfect. He'd been leaning on the piano, not listening to Darcien giving him a speech about how leaning on a piano was a definite no-no, watching her walk to her seat, and didn't take his eyes off of her until she began assembling her clarinet and suddenly looked up, feeling someone's eyes on her. Friendly though he was, Bing could not respectably keep eye contact with someone he'd been blatantly staring at, no matter how much he wanted to. When the conductor had called for anyone that was not a musician to leave the stage-meaning Bing, specifically-he sheepishly slunk off towards the backstage area to watch the run through on the monitor.
He saw her again as he and Darcien were leaving. They made quick eye contact, but she broke it first and began walking towards the exit. With all his might he wanted to follow her, but he had a few things to deal with at the Hall. He longed for this evening, when he would see her again.
However, he did not have to wait for the evening, as an emergency rehearsal had been called.
Smiling, he got on the elevator and rode it down, still thinking of this unnamed beauty. As he walked off, he had an epiphany and, leaving a message at the concierge's desk, strode out the door to get a cab to Carnegie.
*Note: this is not the author's belief but that of the character (Being an American, I don't think anything surpasses the American ego; this statement just sounds good)
Stupid one-way streets, she thought. Mumbling, Bella rushed down to the next corner she knew she could get a cab going in the right direction. Professors could at least have the decency to e-mail their students when class was going to take place on the other side of the island, instead of just leaving a sign on the door. Now, late and stumbling, she had to find a way to get to the other side of town. The Subway was definitely not an option. She'd have to walk just as far from the nearest station as she would from here. Waving an arm at the next cab that came by, she tried to make a run for it.
Just as she got across the street and her hand on the door, a bigger, stronger hand was in the same spot. She let her eyes move slowly from the leather clad hand up the sleeve of a leather trench coat, across a broad shoulder and up the neck of a black wool turtleneck to a young but firm jaw and what looked like kissable lips. After lingering on the lips that were just a little above her eye level Bella reluctantly looked up at an aristocratic nose into shockingly deep golden eyes. Her eyes removed back to his lips, however, when he began to speak.
"I need this cab."
It speaks. It has a beautiful deep voice, but it's rude, she thought. It has a British accent. I always did love British accents. Realizing that she hadn't spoken or moved anything but her eyes, she wasn't surprised when he repeated himself.
Okay, Mister British Man, I can be rude too. "Would I be standing with my hand on the door of a cab if I didn't need one too?"
He took in a breath to respond when a midi version of the Swan Lake theme began singing.
Bella began fumbling under her coat for her phone, recognizing the ringer for Jeannie. Looking down for a second to answer the call, her stepsister was greeted with a string of expletives that would make an entire motorcycle club blush.
"Geez, Bella, what did I do to you?" Jeannie asked once the cursing subsided.
Bella laughed bitterly. "Oh, don't worry Jean, it wasn't you. I'm late for class at the Met and some British guy just stole my cab." She let out what sounded to Jeannie much too much like a growl for her taste. Changing the subject immediately, Jeannie began rambling.
"Oh, sorry about that. I probably interrupted an argument, huh? Well, I'll make it up to you eventually. So, I called because I have to go back down to Carnegie for a while. You know that run-through that I was gonna tell you about? Well, I've been called in for an emergency continuance of it. Looks like more fun stuff to tell you about when one of us gets back. You are coming to the concert tonight, right? I've got tickets for you and Luke."
Luke was Bella's older cousin that was also at Columbia. The two were both workaholics who were inseparable on the weekends, as long as neither of them had something incredibly important due the next week that they needed the weekend for. Among other things, they shared the love of orchestral music that brought them both to see Jeannie every time she performed with the Phil.
Realizing that she was still standing in the middle of the curb lane facing the wrong direction, Bella decided that while she was listening to Jeannie that she would find another cab. Thus done, she was sitting in a cab giving the direction before she gave the answer. "Oh definitely, Jean. How could we miss Rocky's Second?!"
Jeannie couldn't help but laugh at this, as Bella had been calling Rachmaninoff "Rocky" since before the two knew each other, and hadn't bothered to start calling him by the full name when she was old enough to know better.
The two made plans to meet a couple hours before the performance to talk a couple things over. After saying their goodbyes both hung up and went on their ways to do what they needed, Bella finally arriving at the Metropolitan Museum of Art still muttering about her lost cab and Jeannie going back for yet another try at a decent run through, hoping for a possible accidental meeting with the cute auburn haired man with their guest pianist.
Chapter 3
Darcien sat back in the cab and huffed. He'd been taught better manners than this. But he'd dawdled too long in the hotel and now he was running late. Sure, he could have given her the cab, but what if he hadn't been able to find another available one? This was New York, after all. He knew he was just making excuses to himself, but what was he to do? He might have felt a little worse about the whole situation, though, if she hadn't been rude.
He knew this was yet another excuse. But he didn't really care. From now on all he would care about was Rachmaninoff-that and nothing else. At least he would until the end of the performance.
When he got to Carnegie Hall he wasn't surprised to see that Bing was already there, laughing and enjoying himself with the red haired clarinetist. He was actually a little disappointed that he had to break up the little tête-à-tête, as the rehearsal was called to commencement once he came into the backstage area.
He decided that he was not going to interrupt the conductor this time. He would simply take his cues and play his best. Nothing more, nothing less. By the time the run through was over and done with, the conductor was pleased with himself, and with the performers. He even managed to spare a smile for Darcien as the two shook hands and spoke about the events of the evening, both the performance and the Gala that would be held afterwards for the performers and their guests, as well as a few members of the elite and New York's favorite dilettantes.
Bella was excited for the evening. She had been to many a concert at many different venues around New York, but she had never been invited to one of these galas afterwards. She actually had no knowledge of there even being one of this particular type of party since Jeannie had been playing for the Phil. This was indeed a special event, as the guest pianist was a very young, very renowned member of the musical elite, and it was his first time playing on American soil. There would be all different types of people here tonight, and she'd be mingling with them.
She had gone out and bought a new evening gown the weekend before, right after Jeannie invited her and Luke to the Gala. It was a deep red, a color that, she'd learned, set off her hazel gold eyes very well for some reason. Not being the skinniest or the tallest person in the world, she'd always preferred something that not only slimmed her but made her look just a little taller (though the four inch heels she preferred already made her five seven). Thus the dress had a high, straight neck and triple spaghetti straps, a straight, slightly clinging bodice and slightly flaring skirt. She was sure she could have gotten off with just one of the below the knee numbers she had in her closet, but she always took the opportunity to go shopping in New York, at least for a relatively good price. This one she'd never have bought but for one of the boutiques down the street having a closing sale...everything they'd never been able to sell for being too expensive for the bunch in the area was going for seventy percent off. Besides, she liked to stand out.
While Bella was, yet again, curled up on the couch, contemplating what else to wear with her gown, Jeannie walked in the door with a big grin on her face.
"Hey, Bella," she called dreamily.
"What?" She called towards the doorway, as she saw through the corner of her eye that her stepsister was still leaning against the jamb.
"I'm afraid you and Luke are going to have to be on your own after the concert tonight." With a Cheshire cat smile she dragged herself into the room and plopped herself over and onto the couch. What was the use of walking around it if it was so convenient to go over?
Bella was immediately concerned. "Why, are you sick? You shouldn't be playing at all if you're sick, I don't care if it is the Phil and Damien Whatever his name is."
Straightening herself up, sad to cause Bella alarm, she started "Oh no, I'm not sick at all, I'm perfectly wonderful thank you. I'm playing tonight, of course, and I am most definitely going to the gala tonight. But," She said, holding up her hand when Bella tried to speak, "I have a date."
Bella, her mouth halfway open to contest her playing when she wasn't feeling well, stopped immediately and in doing so forgot to close her mouth. Jeannie had a date? Well, of course, there was nothing wrong with that, or unusual, she was a beautiful woman. But who did she know that was going to the gala tonight? How did she get the extra ticket? Why hadn't Bella met him before? What was going on?
She proceeded to ask these questions aloud and before she could ask another one without waiting for the answer to the others, Jeannie grasped the sides of her face. "Bella! Calm down! Let me answer the first one before you continue, at least, or maybe even the first three?"
Nodding, Bella extricated herself from her stepsister's hands and sat back on the couch. She hadn't even realized that she'd sat up until she leaned back.
Taking a deep breath, Jeannie began. "Okay. Yes I have a date. Remember I was going to tell you about the run-through before you ran out for class?" Seeing her stepsister nod again, Jeannie continued. "Okay, the story was amusing, but I'll tell you that later. Later-" Jeannie held her hand up again, seeing that Bella was about to interrupt, "because I want to tell you about why I have a date first. May I continue? Thank you. So our guest pianist, as you know, is from England. His 'friend', who I guess must also be his business manager, is with him. Very cute. A bit shorter than me, but I can handle that."
"One question. Does he have red hair?" Bella knew Jeannie had a thing for redheads. When she was in high school she managed to date the only other red haired person in the entire school. When she saw her stepsister smile, she knew he must.
"It's not as red as mine, but it's auburn, I guess. But anyway, when I went into the Hall this morning I saw him, and we made some major eye contact. The rehearsal ended a bit abruptly, but I saw him again as I was leaving. When we went back for the second run through, he was alone and we started talking. He introduced himself-and I won't tell you his name, he can do that-and we began discussing music. Apparently the only musical talent he has is a good ear, but he adores it, which is why he's Darcien Wills' business manager. After a bit of chatting the pianist himself entered and the rehearsal was called to begin. You know, we went through the whole thing and as I was getting ready to leave he caught me by the exit. He asked me if I had a date for the Gala and I said no. He asked me if I wanted one. I asked him if he was asking. He grinned-beautiful smile-and said yes, and I said yes as well. So now I have one."
Chapter 4
The evening was looking better than it already had. Bing was not only attending his first New York City gala, but he was attending it with a beautiful, intelligent, red haired musician. Of the last, he'd met quite a few, some of whom were nice, and some of whom thought themselves the biggest prima donnas in the world. Jeannie, though, was a lady like no other. There was nothing he could complain about so far, but of course he'd barely met her. Only the evening would tell.
"Alright, your Highness, shall we proceed down to the hall?"
Darcien walked into the living room of the suite, fidgeting in his tuxedo. "Unless Prince William is around here somewhere, I should say not."
Wow, though Bing. He's actually in a good mood. Let's not spoil it shall we? "Okay, then, Mister Wills, shall we go, or are you planning on making the people of New York await your arrival?" His tone was terse but his constant smile hadn't moved.
Darcien smiled. "If only I could, Bing. But, I guess we better get going."
When they arrived at Carnegie Hall there were hundreds of people waiting outside the main entrance. The two would go through the stage entrance for the largest concert hall, out of view of the others.
"I didn't know this many New Yorkers enjoyed orchestral music."
Bing couldn't help but laugh. "Wills, its New York, not Antarctica. Besides, if they didn't enjoy it, why would you be here playing with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra? What else would they like?"
Unable to answer, Darcien continued to look out the window. Just as he did, he saw a relatively short young lady in a deep red evening gown with her hand in the arm of a much taller, lanky looking fellow. Something looked relatively familiar about the woman, but he couldn't figure it out for the life of him. Unless she was British, there should be no reason for her to look familiar. He hadn't met anyone in New York besides other musicians, and they would all be wearing black tonight, and going in through the performers' entrance, not the main one. As much as he tried, he couldn't figure it out. Let it go, he thought to himself. It doesn't matter.
It took him a moment to realize he was being spoken to.
"-On your own for the gala, is that alright?"
Shaking his head, he looked back at Bing. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
Bing smiled. Of course his mind would be on other things. "I said I have made Miss Jeannie White-Barrett my date for this evening, and after your entrance you will have to be on your own for the gala, is-that-all-right?" Each syllable in the last part of the sentence was made into its own.
Darcien smirked at the smiling figure beside him. "Of course, old boy. I suppose I can find a corner to cower in until the evening comes to a close."
Checking herself one more time in the full-length mirror on her bathroom door, Bella left her bedroom when she heard familiar voices in the living room. Smiling as she glided into the room in her gown, she couldn't help but giggle when she saw her companions' faces.
"What? You've seen me in eveningwear before. Do I have something on my face? My neck? Is there a bat in my hair?"
Luke Williams' expression, which had been one of dazed astonishment, suddenly turned into a grin. "You mean that huge winged rodent's not supposed to be in your hair? Oh, well then you should take it out, immediately, before it crawls down your neck and gives you rabies. I thought you had it trained and wanted to introduce it to modern culture." Jeannie laughed and Bella glared. "And as a matter of fact, come here...you've got this huge black spot on your forehead. ... Is it Ash Wednesday already?"
"Luke Matthew Williams! If you didn't look so good in that tux I would beat you up! And you know I could!" Luke was sure she could. Hidden in that small frame was a woman who was as strong (and as stubborn) as an ox. Luke was taller than her by nearly a foot, and he had strength of his own, but he knew an angry Bella with the adrenaline going was not someone to be trifled with. That didn't matter though, because she was just messing with him and he knew it. She'd said it herself. She wouldn't get blood on his tux. The two were laughing, and Jeannie couldn't help but join in the laughter.
She was also the first to sober up. "Okay, Bella, grab your coat, or wrap, or whatever you're planning on going in before we're late."
Bella went to the closet and took out a long, black, soft-suede wrap her father'd bought her for her birthday the year before. It was thick and, put on just the right way, would keep her warm even in the November weather. After wrapping it around her shoulders and upper arms, she realized she'd forgotten something very important. Saying she'd be right back, she ran back into her room (as well as she could run, in her heels) and grabbed something black off her dresser. Returning from the room she spoke to her once again confused companions.
"What now? It's a gala, its cold, I'll need gloves. What's wrong with these?" She held up her arms, now enclosed in black suede and black, elbow length satin gloves.
Jeannie smiled. "Nothing's wrong with them, dearest. I'm just so amazed at how grown you are. My little Bella, it seems like only yesterday you were asking me why boys were so cute."
"Jeannie!" Bella blushed, something she didn't do often, and wondered why she was now.
"Okay, ladies, shall we leave?" Taking a hand in each arm, Luke strolled with them to the door, and stopped. "I guess we shall have to part here." Dramatically, he relinquished his hold on both ladies, allowing them to go first.
They grabbed a cab, but when they realized that traffic would not get them immediately to Carnegie, Luke paid the driver (the least he could do for getting a free ticket to the Phil AND a gala) and they walked the couple blocks that separated them from Carnegie. At the corner before, Jeannie kissed Bella's cheek and told her she'd see her after the performance, as she had to go to another entrance of the Hall. Bella and Luke continued to the entrance and headed to their seats, chatting their anticipation for the performance as they strolled along.
"I hear this Wills guy is quite the performer," Luke began. "And...I hear he's hot. Tall, dark and British." He let out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a sigh. In Luke's opinion, that was the perfect guy. Of course, his shorter, blonder boyfriend Colin didn't have to know that.
"I look forward to seeing him. You never know, perhaps he'll like you more than me," she quipped. Luke and Bella very much enjoyed man-watching together. It was one of their favorite pastimes, no matter where they were. Tonight's event would be no different.
Luke could only smile. Unfortunately, he'd heard that the pianist was quite straight. He didn't have to tell Bella that, though.
Bella noticed the strange smile he had on his face. "What're you smiling about?"
His smile got bigger. "You'll see, babe. You'll see."
**In both of the previous sections I mentioned a performers' entrance to Carnegie Hall. Having never been to Carnegie Hall I have no clue about my accuracy. Forgive me if there is no performers' entrance or if there is and I have gotten the location wrong.
Chapter 5
From the seats Jeannie had gotten them, about eight rows from the front, near the middle, Bella and Luke could see the stage marvelously. They were just to the left of the piano, as well, and Bella, as she often did, would be able to attempt at watching the pianist's fingers move. She played also, but not nearly well enough to perform for one person, let alone an audience this large.
She smiled at Jeannie when she came onto the stage with her instrument, and joined the audience in applauding the orchestra as well as the conductor when he entered. Once the conductor arrived on stage, he stepped up to the microphone behind his podium and gave a wordy introduction of their guest performer. Let's see if he deserves it, thought Bella, who had seen many revered performers with the Phil.
When their guest performer arrived on stage, Bella was sure that every female (and quite a few males) in the room who could see straight gasped at his beauty. She and Luke certainly did. He was, indeed, gorgeous, just as Luke had heard. The way that he carried himself was very certain and demanding, yet his expression was a little uncertain, in her opinion. She hoped that it was not because of the music. She really did.
When he started playing, Bella's breath was taken away. He could indeed play. And marvelously well. Bella, though not able to see the keys perfectly, watched as his fingers moved gracefully up and down the keyboard, and admired the sound of it. The second piano concerto was one of the most beautiful piano pieces Rachmaninoff had written, with quite a few leaps from the slow and melodic to tension filled, dramatic parts. This performance of it was no different.
Except for one thing. To Bella, this particular performance did indeed hit the mark, and was played perfectly, but the young soloist was not putting anything more than his accuracy into the piece. It seemed flat. There was no feeling in his playing, merely presence. Why did one play if they were not going to put their heart and soul into their performance? She had seen the old musicians time and again and knew with each production of a new piece they would play with all their being. From where she was sitting, it just looked like he was playing with his fingers.
At the final cadence, she applauded him with gusto, but did not stand with the audience until Wills and the conductor presented the orchestra. Apparently she was the only one not fascinated with his performance. She had to admit, it was a great performance, but not marvelous. She'd seen and heard better.
When the orchestra filed out, she and Luke waited for the majority of the audience to leave before heading out to wait in the foyer* for the gala.
*For purposes of convenience, the author has turned CH's lobby into a grand foyer, enlarged it and added a central staircase.
Now that it was over, Darcien could reflect.
He hadn't been too afraid upon arrival, but when he peered around the doorway from stage right he could be nothing but nonplussed about what he saw. There were so many people. He'd performed in concert halls before, and they had, of course, seated the same amount. But there was something about performing for a foreign entity that had him shaking. Closing his eyes and envisioning the score before him, he began to unconsciously move his fingers at his sides.
He played the piece in his mind until he heard his name and applause. Straightening his shoulders, shaking his hair back off his face, and attempting to school his face to that dignified, English attitude, he strode onto stage, while his mind roared. They won't like me, he started to tell himself. Well, if they don't, it is their loss, the undeserving, ungrateful wretches. Of course, he realized it was his nervousness talking, he knew, someplace in the back of his mind, that there was nothing wrong with the people of New York, and anywhere else these spectators and listeners might have come from.
Pushing all thoughts not of music to the back of his consciousness, Darcien bowed and sat at the piano, awaiting the sign from the conductor. Mechanically, his fingers began to move. Where the score had said to play emphatically he would play emphatically. If it said piu mosso he would do that. He took what he could from the score and played it just as Rachmaninoff would have played it himself. Or so he continued to tell himself.
When he finished, he remained at the piano for a few extra seconds, gaining his breath, before he stood to bow yet again. He noticed that there was one young lady, rows back, who seemed less than mystified by his performance. In fact, she'd seemed, from what he could gather, disappointed with it. She remained in her seat while the applause was merely for him, but stood for the orchestra, smiling smugly at someone near the middle of the stage. Darcien fought the urge to turn and see just who she was smiling at.
It took a while for it to dawn on him that this was the same girl he'd had a strange feeling of recognition for right before the performance. He told himself that either way it would not matter. He would never see her again.
His own sigh brought him back to the present, as he was leaning against a wall behind stage, waiting for his grand entrance to the gala in the grand foyer.
Attempting to lose himself in his thoughts again, he was unaware for a few seconds of the pair standing a couple feet in front of him. Looking up, expecting himself to be alone, the appearance from nowhere of Bing and the Red-Haired Clarinetist -whose name he could not remember-caused him to outright jump.
"Geez, Bing, don't do that."
Smiling, Bing asked him to what he was referring.
"Don't just apparate in front of me like that!"
"Funny, Mr. Wills, I hadn't pegged you for a reader of Harry Potter."
Darcien smiled at the lady standing next to Bing. She was even more beautiful from up close than she was from a distance. "Please, call me Darcien. Mr. Wills was . . . my father."
Feeling that something had hit the wrong spot, Jeannie fought to change the subject. Thrusting her hand forward, "I don't know where Bing's manners are, I'm Jeannie White-Barrett. ... I play the Clarinet."
Good to be able to place a name with the face, Darcien thought. Taking her hand and smiling, Darcien replied. "Darcien Wills, I play the piano."
Glad to have put a smile back on his face, Jeannie turned to look behind her, and then looked back at him. "I believe that's the Maestro coming to fetch you for your grand entrance. You ready?"
Darcien grimaced. "As ready as I will be, I guess." Surprised at how easily he got along with this woman, he walked to the conductor, who began speaking to him in a hushed manner. Jeannie and Bing could not hear what he was saying, but both assumed that he was giving instructions as to the way the evening would go.
"Shall we?" Extending his arm for Jeannie to take, Bing began to walk just a few feet behind Darcien and the Maestro. He could only wonder what was going through Darcien's head as he stood at the top of the grand staircase minutes later.
Chapter 6
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Mister Darcien Wills."
Bella set her glass down to join in the light applause that spread around the grand foyer of Carnegie Hall. When she looked up at him coming down the staircase, she couldn't help but think how much more attractive he looked in the delicate lighting outside the concert hall. And he hadn't looked anywhere near bad to begin with, she thought to herself. Feeling someone approach behind her, Bella wasn't surprised to hear Luke's voice in her ear.
"I stand here wishing those stories were false, for my own sake. But look at him, he looks so young, so vulnerable."
"Honestly, I can't see either. I just see a self-satisfied man who is surrounded by admirers."
"Ah, have you joined the ranks? I certainly have."
Bella's laughter rang through the room, attracting the eyes of Darcien himself. He recognized the girl as the one he'd seen both outside on the street and in the Hall. He was slightly appalled at her behavior in such a subdued affair, but couldn't help but think how nice her laughter sounded, like she could be a vocal musician. But he did not want to give her any more attention than the usual high society young woman. He assumed that young debutantes in America were no different than the ones in England. And thus he kept his ground, glancing around the room as he arrived at the bottom level. The Maestro was speaking to him about some person or another, but he could not bring himself to listen. He hated these affairs and wanted to merely find a seat in a dark corner and do some people watching, something his father had loved to do, and had taught his son in turn.
Bing and Jeannie remained behind, amiably chatting as they strolled through the room. Jeannie, catching sight of Bella, asked Bing if they could alter their route so they could be introduced. "Why would I mind, love?" was his reply, which Jeannie blushed at, and they began moving towards an area of the room closer to an edge. Bella had always played about staying as close to the door as possible of any large snooty party, to which Jeannie always had to respond that she adored going to these large snooty parties and enjoyed herself.
Bella looked up, seeing her step-sister with a shorter man about Jeannie's age with slightly darker hair and a rather happy disposition. The two girls shared a smile, and then the redheads were upon them.
"Jeannie, m'love, can I just say how great you were tonight? You didn't tell us you'd have a solo!"
"Why thank you!" She turned to Bing, "I'd like to introduce you to two of the most important people to me in the world. My step-sister, Isabella Barrett," Bing shook her hand with a "charmed" and looked to the taller young man who looked rather similar to Miss Barrett. "And her cousin, Luke Williams." The two shook hands with a "pleasure" and stood waiting. Jeannie, realizing she was supposed to continue, did. "Oh, right, lost myself for a second, Bella, Luke, this is Bing Charlesby, Darcien's manager."
"Darcien, is it? I hadn't known the two of you were on a first name basis."
Smirking, Jeannie arched her neck and replied, "I'm sure, sir, that you're just jealous because you wish you were," at which point Bella began laughing profusely into her glass. Taking a deep breath, she stopped, and craned her neck to look up at her cousin. "I'm sorry cousin, but she got you there."
He was blushing to his roots, and smiled at his pseudo-cousin. "If I thought it would help, I might, but, alas, I'm fine and dandy with my Colin."
They all shared a smile and then Bella brought up a subject she'd been wondering about since the introduction. "If you don't mind my asking, where did you get the name Bing?"
He laughed, telling her it was a common question and he was more than willing to answer. "Well, my parents met at a Christmas party and the first song they danced to was White Christmas. My dad thought, for some reason, since his last name was Charlesby and sounded relatively similar to Crosby, that it would be perfect for my Christian name to be Bing, and amazingly enough my mother agreed with him." He smiled, "But I like it, I think it gives me--" he swung his hands trying to come up with the right word"-character." With this he grinned so wide the other three couldn't help but laughing.
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Bing, and I hope to see you around. Oh, and how long will you two be in the country?"
"That, Miss Barrett-"
"Call me Bella."
"Bella, is yet to be seen."
They all shared final salutations and the older two moved off to chat with some of the other musicians and members of Critical New York.
Darcien watched as the group near the door moved together, chatted, and divided into pairs yet again. The young couple who Bing and Jeannie had gone to speak to was the same one his eyes had been drawn to so many times previously. He had the urge to walk over and speak to them, but he felt better standing in his corner, as all the necessary introductions had been made. He was irritated that he had not only been carded at the open bar, but that the bartender refused to serve him, even if he was the guest of honor.
He watched as Bing and Jeannie circuited the room, and then sat down at a clump of small tables near his corner. He moved towards the area, to take the one last chair in the area, unaware that there was someone else moving towards the same chair, having been left alone by Luke who had run off when seeing a young violist he liked standing across the room.
When Bella realized that her target had been taken by the guest of honor, she considered moving over towards Luke, but didn't think that anything could go wrong, besides an introduction. She continued moving towards the table, hearing as she'd approached a relatively familiar voice speaking of the "loud and rather indecorous young lady" Bing and Jeannie had been speaking with. She could only assume that the man was speaking of her, as she was the only young person besides Luke in the entire room. How a man could call her indecorous before having even met her was something Bella was far from understanding, and the only time she'd been loud was when Luke had said something incredibly funny earlier, something that she couldn't help but laughing out loud to.
His voice stopped suddenly, and she realized she'd arrived at the table, and was merely standing over them. When he looked up she could barely hold her gasp, as she finally realized where she'd heard that voice and seen that face which she couldn't place before. He'd stolen her cab! Well that was the third strike. She was already determined not to like this man.
Bing looked up, a bit horrified, but smiling all the while, and saw Bella with a calm and determined demeanor. He stood up, asking her to take his chair, and went to acquire one from another table, which he set on the other side of Jeannie. It was a rather tight fit, but they managed, even with Darcien's long legs taking up most of the space under the table.
They sat in awkward silence for a few seconds until Jeannie, determined to change the atmosphere, said something she regretted once the reply was made.
"So, Bella, how was class today?"
"Oh it was marvelous. I'm not going to bore you with all the gory details from my baroque music lecture but this afternoon's trip to the Met was eventful. I got there forty five minutes late because some impeccably rude Englishman decided he needed my cab more than I did. But it was alright, I got to scamp around the new American Indian exhibit that's there for the next month."
Darcien nearly choked on his ice water, which he'd unfortunately decided to sip right around the time Bella had said "impeccably rude Englishman." So, that's where he'd seen her before. She hadn't looked so...cleaned up then. Slowly placing his glass down onto the table, he began to make a retort when Bing, seeing the look in his eye, suddenly spoke up.
"Well! I dare say the two of you haven't been introduced, have you?" The pace of his speaking increased to match the tension in the air. "Darcien Wills, Isabella Barrett. Isabella Barrett, Darcien Wills. Concert pianist, college student. My best friend, Jeannie's little sister." This last was said pointedly, each word drawn out. Bing hoped that Darcien would take the hint that he didn't want him screwing this up.
He didn't.
Chapter 7
Out in the cool November air, Bella repeatedly hit the back of her head against the stone wall that made the façade around the front of Carnegie Hall. She knew she REALLY shouldn't have done it, but she couldn't help it. It was the perfect opportunity, and she'd reached the last straw long before the last comment came through his lips.
"Little sister? You don't look like sisters. Jeannie, you've got that British beauty look going for you and well, your sister looks quite ... different. Yes, different would be the word."
She remembered with a slight smirk what occurred next.
Was that a backhanded insult? She asked herself. Did he just call me ugly? Just because I don't have Jeannie's mother's long legged, Scotch-Irish blood? How dare him! Bella opened and closed her mouth, unsure of what to say, and instead let out an exasperated, unladylike squeal and grabbed his glass, hoping it was only water (didn't want to destroy those gorgeous eyes, no matter how bad the personality was). After less than a second of contemplation, she emptied the contents of it over his head and stormed out, leaving sudden silence in her wake.
Which had left her here.
A few minutes later, Jeannie and Luke had come out to find her, hoping she hadn't gone very far. When they discovered her leaning against the wall, her fists constantly clenching and releasing, they shared a concerned glance and rushed over to her.
"Bella, what in the world is wrong with you?"
Bella looked up to Jeannie, suddenly realizing that she had probably caused her sister an incredible amount of embarrassment. She sobered and calmed instantly and put her arms around her sister, who was rigid, but not angry.
"I'm so sorry, Jeannie, I should have controlled myself in there. But he really is an annoying, irritating jerk that should know when to keep his mouth shut. He has been doing nothing but insulting me all evening and I just couldn't take it anymore."
"Geez, Tiger Claw, tell her how you really feel."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Thinks With His-"
"Bella!"
"Did I interrupt you and your tête-à-tête with the cute little violinist?"
"Yeah, yeah, take it out on me, go ahead. Well, now that I've seen you haven't scratched anyone's eyes out, including your own, I'm returning to my 'cute little violinist' until the evening's end." And with that he turned on his heel and returned to the gala inside, where it was warm.
After watching him re-enter the party, Jeannie and Bella looked at each other. "Look, Jean, I'm really sorry if I embarrassed you in there. I've just had a long, bad day, and..."
Jeannie touched her shoulder. "Yeah, I know. I'd like to say I understand, but I really don't. So why don't we just go back inside and I'll keep you two apart. Just don't pick up any unattended drinks and start hurling them across the room, okay?"
Smiling at this sly attempt at humor, Bella nodded her assent and began walking back inside.
When Darcien saw Bella re-enter the room, followed by Jeannie, he couldn't help groaning. Bing, who had been laughing since Jeannie ran out the door following her sister, was sobered by the expressions on the sisters' faces when they came back. Jeannie came walking towards the two, while Bella moved, ironically enough, into the corner where he'd been standing twenty minutes before.
A bartender had brought him a towel, which he had used to dry his face and hair, and had been able to salvage his tux jacket. It was now hanging on the back of his chair. He actually felt like thanking Bella for giving him the excuse to take it off, as he'd been wanting to since the gala had begun, but hadn't been able to.
He was also now thankful that the bartender had decided not to give him alcohol, as it would have done serious damage to his hair and his eyes. Well, that was inconsiderate of her, what if it had been an alcoholic beverage? It might have been the end of me! What good is a blinded musician? He can't read music, he can't see the keys-though you don't really need to see the keys as long as you have pitch. He was suddenly in a much worse mood than he had been before.
"Darcien, I'm going to talk to Jeannie for a minute, will you be alright here?" After seeing a slight nod of acquiescence, Bing moved towards Jeannie to intercept her before she got to Darcien.
"How is she?" He asked when they were a couple feet apart from each other. The look on Jeannie's face was all that he needed as an answer. "Well, I'd say she has a right to be. Darcien has been horrendously rude since this thing started and has not let up all evening. I should talk to him about this. Although I'm sure he received a rude awakening with an eyeful of water and a mouth full of Italian leather. Ah, there, its good to see you smile again, my Bonnie Jean."
Did I just hear him call me his bonny jean? But he just met me this morning. He couldn't have possibly developed an attachment to me so soon, could he have? Jeannie's smile faltered a bit, but finally she gave him one of his brightest. "Oh, I don't lose a smile for very long, even if something irritates me, like my brat of a little sister over there."
"Oh, believe me, she was in the right this time. Shall we go retrieve our drinks and mingle? Darce can be left to his own designs for a while, I should say."
With a nod of assent, Jeannie let Bing lead her to the table where they picked up their drinks and moved on to speak with some of the woodwind players they hadn't spoken to long earlier in the evening.
Bella stood in her corner, and realized a bit belatedly that this was exactly the same place she'd seen Darcien Wills staring at her from before, when she and Luke had been talking. She smiled, and suddenly turned it into a grimace, when she saw him stand and look towards her yet again. Giving her a bow, he moved over towards the bar, she assumed to get another glass of water, as the one he'd had before had been completely emptied onto his person.
She watched him move, and couldn't help but admit that he walked very well indeed. She could tell that he worked out, from the way his back and arm muscles rippled across his shirt. He moved like an athlete as well, but something graceful, something where speed and agility were the primary skills.
She suddenly felt an unwelcome presence imposing on her solitude. She was about to make a wise-crack, assuming it was Luke, until she turned towards the presence and saw it was an older woman-perhaps thirty?-who she hadn't spoken to before.
The woman stuck her hand in front of her. "Lady Carla Whitman, originally from Manchester, England. I presently reside in Washington, DC."
Wondering why this woman was suddenly introducing herself to her, Bella could do nothing but do the same. She took the woman's hand. "Isabella Barrett, originally from Mary's Town, New York. I presently reside in Manhattan, New York." She hadn't realized until she finished that she had said the same exact thing as Lady Whitman. She hoped Her Ladyship didn't think she was mocking her or anything.
"How long have you known our dear Prodigy?"
Bella, guessing she could only mean one person, replied that she'd only met Mister Wills less than an hour ago. She looked towards the table where he'd been sitting before, where he was sitting presently. He appeared to have been taken aback by seeing something in her direction, and his surprise suddenly turned into an anger which caused him to turn such a deep shade of red Bella could see it clearly from the distance at which she was standing.
"Well, I guess it's better that you know what type of character he has, and you obviously know. I wish I'd been able to do that when we met."
Intrigued, Bella asked her to continue, although she knew she shouldn't. She wasn't a big fan of idle gossip. Her Ladyship was more than willing to comply.
"He's so young, so handsome, I know. Look at him, over there, those beautiful hands, the perfect eyes. We lived in the same area when I was younger. I was the typical older woman phase of his growing up, I'd say. He made me believe he loved me-even asked me to marry me-then he left, and I was there, brokenhearted. I had to move away to get over him, but I can't. When I found out he would be here, I couldn't help but come and see him. I missed him so." Lady Carla allowed a solitary tear to fall. When she felt the young girl's hand on her shoulder, she pulled away and expressed a need for some air. Bella offered to go with her, but Carla declined. She rushed away, with Bella following her, unhappy with the place in which she was left. She knew she shouldn't pursue this but she was curious. Unfortunately, after she left the building, the Enigmatic Lady Whitman had completely vanished. When she came back inside, she was suddenly accosted by Darcien, in his usual sour mood, it seemed.
"I see you were talking with Carla."
She didn't feel like this right now. "It's LADY Carla, and yes, we were speaking together, if it must be any business of yours."
He was not deterred from his purpose, even if she was trying to walk away from him. He grabbed her arm. "I don't know what she told you, but if it was about me, I wouldn't trust her to know the truth if it bit her in the-"
"Mister Wills, I don't know where you get off, trying to tell me what to do and who to listen to, especially with the examples of your behavior that I've seen so far! Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to find my sister. I think we need to leave." With this, she stormed in the direction of her sister's red hair, being the only thing that could distinguish her from most of the other people in black in the room. Well, that and the reddish-auburn hair of the shorter man in animated conversation standing next to her.
Darcien stood there, staring after her. He'd been more than surprised to see Lady Carla Whitman standing there, talking to the woman who he'd just been assaulted by. That seemed to be a double attack, seeing her again. Not since Manchester had he felt such anger and terror all at the same time. Well, he wasn't going to let her into his life again, no matter how much she tried. And to think, he thought, 'I'm living in a soap opera and I'm only twenty. I wonder what life will be like in five or ten years? I just hope I live long enough to find out.
Chapter 8
Bella hung up the phone in a daze, staring at the invisible spot on the pale blue wall of their living room. Did I just get the call I thought I did?
Jeannie walked into the room, packing her case with everything she'd need for her section leaders' meeting. She wouldn't need her instrument, of course, but there was a lot of paperwork she would need to take and fill out, not to mention notes to give and take. After her meeting she was meeting Bing for Sunday Brunch.
"Who was on the phone?"
"You wouldn't believe it if I told you."
"Oh, come on, Bella, stop stalling, I've got to go." Jeannie was running around the living room to make sure she had everything for a third time, a paranoid habit she'd had since her pre-teens.
"Okay. D'you remember Lady Whitman, the woman I told you about after the gala, who informed me that your wonderful Mister Wills was a particularly unsavory person?"
"I remember no such phrasing. You told me she said she had been left by him, but do you really believe someone you've never met just walking up to you after seeing your contempt for the man and telling you things to incite you even more?"
"Of course I do! He's obviously the type who would do such a thing. What else is he capable of?"
"Bella, why do you even worry? It's not like you have to see him every day. Though he is Bing's boss and best friend and if you think I want my sister and the closest person to the guy I'm dating to be at each other's throats all the time you've got another thing coming." She took a deep breath, wondering why either of them was so adamant about this. "But I've really got to go, so tell me about your phone call later." She scanned the room one last time, looked at her watch, and walked out the door just in time to hear "Well, she wants to meet me for lunch."
Dressed in the black pinstripe slacks, white shirt and grey v-neck sweater she'd be wearing to work in Columbia's Music and Arts library later that day, Bella sat at a window table in a nice little-but expensive-café in the theater district, not too many blocks from her apartment. It was far enough away from Times Square not to be too overcrowded with tourists, but not quite far enough. It was still warm enough that the café maintained outdoor seating, and as Bella looked out the window again, waiting for her meal companion, she was met with the face of a six-year-old boy making faces with his mouth against the window. His father, with the usual I Heart NY tee and the digital camera slung around his neck-is it safe for him to carry a digital camera like that?-pulled him back to the table where his wife sat with her head down and her hand over her face. She looked like she'd had enough of the two boys she was traveling with.
She looked up just in time to see an easily recognizable smiling woman sitting down across from her at her table. Though she looked very different in a coral scoop-necked long sleeved top, miniskirt and long, matching regency style coat with knee-high brown leather boots than she had in her simple evening gown the Friday before.
"Isabella, how good to see you again." She held out her hand and squeezed Bella's. "I'm glad we could meet like this. I'd love to get to know you better." They shared a bit of small talk about the weekend behind them and the weather. Then Lady Carla got down to business. "You're studying arts at Columbia, right? I've always wanted a reason to contribute to their program." She broke out into a grin when she saw the confused look on Bella's face. "I've been thinking, and I feel that I'm getting to that age where I should have either a child or a protégé. The former does not look to be in the near future, but for the latter, I have a perfect specimen sitting in front of me. You're beautiful, you're talented, and you have so much potential." Her smile broadened. "So what do you say to being my wonderful American protégé and all that it entails?"
Bella was amazed for the second time within an hour. This woman who didn't know her was ready to take her under her wing, ready to give her praise and prestige. She was preening under the praise she had already been given, after the ego bruising of the Friday before. Shocked and confused, she managed to press the question "why me?" through her lips.
Lady Carla gave her a Cheshire cat smile. "I like your spark. And like I said before, I think you've got serious potential. I can sponsor you for research, concerts, art exhibits, perhaps some trips across the pond." She swept a few straight, sandy locks from steel colored eyes. "So what do you say?"
Bella sat there for a few minutes, not realizing that the waiter had come by and taken orders for both of them from Lady Carla. She couldn't get over this woman sitting in front of her, offering her resources, all the things she'd need to make this a great college experience. Why is she doing this for me? She barely knows me and yet she "likes my spark." Should I take this? What exactly does it entail? Will I owe her anything? Why do I feel like a painter under the intense gaze of Urban IIIV, just sitting on his throne, offering the greatest of patronage to a nobody like me? She finally managed to find her tongue after throwing many ideas around in her head. "All of the rich little debutantes in Manhattan, and you come to me, a scholarship college sophomore, to be patron to. Is this your annual charity case or something?"
Placing a well-manicured hand over one of Bella's, which had been grasping for the table, Lady Carla shook her head. "Of course not, dear. I don't do random charity. I see something, I see its potential, I see its ability to reciprocate with interest in the long run. And you, my dear, I believe will build up loads of interest with that mind of yours."
"But you know nothing about my mind! I could be a dumb rock!"
"Obviously you're not, as you're on scholarship to Columbia. It's not Oxford, but it's most definitely not a school for dumb rocks."
The Lady's persistence was getting to Bella, but she was also beginning to cave. There was no reason she couldn't try it out for a while and see what it would be like. She half whispered, "What would I be doing?"
"Oh, nothing too bad, while I was here I'd take you with me to some places, help you get to know some of the people who will, I'm sure, be instrumental in your college career-and the rest of your life as well. When I'm back at home you'll keep shop for me. Just a bit of representation, that's all. I might need you down in Washington sometime or perhaps over in Manchester. But you wouldn't be doing too much. I'd hate to have you neglect your studies; all my plans would come to naught, wouldn't they?"
"I suppose they would."
The two sat in silence, eating their salads, which the waiter had brought over during Lady Carla's speech. Bella was very interested in the offer, and it would most definitely improve her miniscule college/New York network. But she still couldn't figure out why this woman-this Lady-had decided after one night of watching her and barely speaking to her that she wanted to sponsor her.
"Could you give me a few days to mull it over and talk to my family about it? I would prefer not to dive right into this."
"I wouldn't expect you to. That wouldn't be very smart, now would it?"
The two decided while finishing their meals that Bella would call her once she made her decision. "But I don't know what kind of time commitments I could make. I'm certainly going to be busy with finals at the beginning of December and next spring I'll be spending two weeks in DC for a Music History Conference."
"I don't plan on taking you away from your studies and I will definitely be present at the conference. I happen to be a contributor."
"Oh. Well then, I plan on giving you a call when I know."
They exchanged a few more pleasantries off topic while they finished their meals, and Bella made her apologies, realizing she had to go to work for a bit and then write a paper.
Lady Carla gave her a card with all of her contact information and rose after the waiter returned with her credit card. "You can use any of these numbers to reach me. If I am not at one, call another one. Don't leave a message, I wish to speak with you personally." She left her with one last grin. "Good luck with your assignment and I hope you'll make the right decision." With that, she grabbed the brown leather bag that matched her boots and clicked off and down the street.
Hearing the door open and close as she was finally finishing up her concluding paragraph-those things took forever to write-she yelled out to Jeannie.
"How was your meeting?"
Still in a trance, Jeannie looked in on Bella. "What? Oh, it was nice."
"Nice?" Bella was ready to laugh, but she felt like tormenting her sister a bit. "It was nice, even though you usually have fifty million things to say about how you didn't get what you want or this or that section leader was being an idiot or something else, or you're just irritated when you come back. What made your meeting so great this time? Is that why it was so long? I managed to go to work and finish a paper and you're just getting back."
Thinking of the meeting brought back to the memory of the way she'd been seething earlier, before she met Bing for brunch. The last comment didn't even hit her for a few seconds, when it did, she was immediately regretful. "Oh! I'm sorry, I should have called you. You were probably wondering where I was." She wondered if that last bit would clue Bella in on the fact that she wasn't at her meeting for the entire time.
"Oh, no problem. Having nothing but Shostakovich in the background has been soothing and has helped me to cool my nerves."
"Shostakovich? Cooled your nerves? What have you been drinking?"
Bella laughed. "Oh, come on Jean, you know Shostakovich's music does something to me...I just get so relaxed, even if its something completely intense."
"Yeah, like that string quartet."
Bella grinned. "It's a great quartet. You know I love it. It's so passionate and intense." She shivered, thinking of the first time she'd heard the String Quartet #8. "Now, anyway, tell me about your date with Bing."
"Oh, it was great; we went to Brunch down in-wait! How did you know I was with Bing?"
Bella gave her sister a lopsided grin. "Wild guess."
"Uhun." Jeannie moved back into the living room and plopped onto the couch. "If you come out here and sit with me I might tell you all about it. And you just might tell me about your little lunch meeting with the Lady."
Bella finished her last sentence with a flourish and pressed print, rising to go out into the living room.
"Oh, and can you grab me a bottle of water? I'm dying of thirst."
She made a quick detour to the fridge, where she grabbed a couple bottles of water and set them on the low cherry coffee table in front of them.
"So, what did you ladies talk about?"
"I asked you first."
Jeannie smiled. "Yes, but I'm older."
With a pout, Bella began her story about the lunch meeting and what she thought of the woman herself. "She's really nice, Jeannie. I don't know why she wants to sponsor someone like me, but it sounds like a really good offer."
"Bella, I will say you've just met her and you don't really know her that well. I'm sure she's not a bad person, but I would prefer that you waited to accept any offers until you knew what she was about. I'd also like to meet her, give her one of my 'intimidating jade stares' as Bing calls it. What she's offering you is amazing, and it might just be that living in this day and age, we don't trust quite as easily, but I just don't know what she's about. Give it some time." She took a breath. "So," she started, suddenly changing the subject. "I guess you'll want to know what went on with me and Bing. But I won't tell you...not until you agree to go to dinner with Bing and me tonight."
Bella was about to say sure, but she sensed something was not being said. "What's the catch? He's going to be there, isn't he? You know I can't stand him! What will I say? 'My apologies for spilling your water all over you on purpose but you're an arrogant, rude, pompous-"
"Bella..."
"'And you deserved it?' Jeannie I just don't think it'll go that well and it might just happen again."
Jeannie smirked. "Not if we keep any glasses far away from your hands."
"Not funny, Jeannie. Why do you want me there anyway?"
"We decided we want you two to at least get along, even if you don't love each other. If you can be agreeable in each other's company, maybe we'll take you away from each other. But Bing and I are becoming closer, and I want my sister and his best friend to get along. Please?"
Bella was touched by the pained, pleading look on her older sister's face. "Of course I'll go." She got up to head back into her room, completely forgetting about Jeannie's date. "Just don't expect me to say anything to him but Hi and Bye. My mother taught me to say nothing if I didn't have anything pleasant to say, unlike some people I know."
Chapter 9
Darcien nearly bolted when he saw the sisters walk into the restaurant that evening. Jeannie was one thing-he really liked her and saw that she and Bing were getting along famously. He'd have to speak to him about that, since the two were not planning on spending too much time in the states. Isabella, as he'd found out her name was, was another story altogether. How could he handle sitting at the same table after speaking about her in such a way at the gala on Friday? He realized after she left that he'd been incredibly rude-well she'd also mentioned the fact while discussing another encounter they'd had. If they were going to have to keep meeting there had to be something to do to keep their conversations-if they could be called that-from ending in battle. And then there's the matter of her knowing Carla. I wonder what it is they were speaking of. Could it have been me? What other common ground could they have besides their disdain for me?
He stood with Bing as they walked in, taking Jeannie's hand in his and tentatively looking at Bella to see if she'd accept his. The last thing he'd want was to be left hanging with her cold stare. He held his hand out to her after releasing Jeannie to Bing and Bella took it, holding it tightly like she was taught to do when meeting someone and letting go as soon as possible.
The two sat and the waiter came to fill their glasses up with water. Bella wanted to leave, seeing him in his usual disdainful manner. His eyes held a bored expression, one she was sure was masking something but she couldn't tell if this emotion was good or bad. His posture was screaming anxiety, though, like he were a cornered animal dying to get out of the trap. And she supposed he was. Both of them had been cornered into meeting like this. She certainly wanted to be here as much as she wanted to get a selective removal of her right hand in the morning.
"It's good to see you ladies again. I hope all is going well with the both of you."
"Thank you, Darcien, everything's going wonderfully well. How has your weekend been so far?"
He relaxed a bit, leaning back into his chair. "Not so badly. I managed to do a bit of exploring in the Park yesterday, though nothing spectacular."
"With your ability to acquire cabs, Mister Wills, I'm surprised you didn't venture farther downtown, at least to the theater district." Bella took a sip of her water, staring at him blankly over it. He watched her hand as it set the glass back down on the table. She had the hand of a musician. Darcien wondered which instrument she played.
"Please, call me Darcien. Formalities are behind us, don't you think?" He gave her an arch look, his lips curling a bit on one side.
Mister rude and serious actually has the ability to crack his face. She looked over at Bing and Jeannie, who were already in their own little world. "If we're going to be seeing more of each other, what with those two hitting it off so well, I guess they are. Darcien it is then."
Darcien looked over towards Bing and Jeannie. He knows that we're not going to be here very long, why is he trying to establish a relationship? Why is she? What does she want? He allowed himself to abandon these thoughts for the time being. "Well, Isabella," he said, to her surprise, "I suppose we shall have to be friends. I suppose it's good to have some friends on this side of the world."
Bella was surprised, not only by his sudden change in attitude, but by his attempt at friendship. She still, however, could not simply disregard Lady Carla's words. Was he trustworthy? Was he a dog of a man? The way he could quickly shift from cold to warm, snarl to smile, confused her enough that she became suspicious. Any person that could change their attitude so easily was either simply fickle or very skilled at leading people on. He didn't seem the type to be false and fickle. How many other women had he tricked into loving him and then leaving them? Lady Carla had said nothing of the sort, but perhaps, if she still loved him, she was trying to protect him.
Is he trying something on me? She thought, alarmed. No, he couldn't possibly, she decided. He barely likes me. But at least I'm on my guard. And I'll stay that way.
"So, Darcien, how long do you plan on maintaining direct contact with this new friend?" At his confused look, Bella continued. "How long are you going to be in the country? Or this part at least, you know, where my sister is?"
Oh. I was confused for a minute. I thought she wanted me to get closer to her. Darcien thought long and hard on this. The only engagement they'd formed was the one with the Phil. But he'd wanted to expand, perhaps doing some workshops or master classes. He was sure the places he most wanted would be willing to provide him with resources and audiences. Perhaps even a fee. Not that he'd need it, what with his regular annuity coming from the Queen.* The thought sounded better and better as he thought about it. Getting his name and his love out into the streets of New York. It would be almost as good as getting a complete pub of Manchester factory workers to enjoy Chopin after he spent months practicing Polonaises while his piano teacher enjoyed a drink. Indeed, those were the days. Dad was around then. Mum too. Anna would speak to me. Life was love and butterflies. My, was I in for a shock.
Bella noticed the drawn expression his countenance suddenly held, and for reasons unknown to herself wanted to make it go away. She supposed it was merely human compassion. What person would want to watch someone going through pain? Could she leave him in his misery like this? He had been rude and he did leave Carla for no reason. But was that really a reason to let him suffer?
Darn right it was.
* I have no clue whether or not people receive annuities from the Queen, but if I said why he was getting one part of the story would be told before its time...
"Now, Bella, was that really that bad?"
She and Jeannie were walking alone back to their apartment after dinner, as they lived in the opposite direction to the guys' hotel. They lived amazingly close, something they'd realized when discussing travel arrangements at the door to the restaurant. After ensuring Bing and Darcien of their safety in walking the three city blocks they had to traipse across to get home, they set off, leaving the guys to walk the other way.
Bella huffed. "No, I guess not. But before you say anything else," she started, seeing that Jeannie was about to say something, "he was still pompous and arrogant, while removing the rudeness from his demeanor. I still don't trust him, though, he changes moods too easily."
Jeannie could not deny that he did seem a bit manic, but she saw no reason to agree so easily with Bella. She really wanted the two to hit it off, and she and Bing had decided while saying a private goodbye that if the two could just like each other they'd be perfect for each other, in likes and demeanor. Bella had her dark brooding times too, even if she never admitted it.
"The same could be said about you, you know, but you don't hear Darcien complaining."
"I don't hear much from Darcien, much less a complaint."
"If you actually started listening, you might actually hear something that wasn't your own voice humming in your head."
Bella huffed again and stomped ahead a few paces. Realizing she was being just a bit immature she stopped and turned around, waiting for Jeannie to catch up with her. "And what reason have I got to listen? He certainly hasn't given me one. The only appeal he's got are gorgeous eyes and magic hands. And he doesn't feel what he plays, Jeannie. I can't stand to watch people play emotionless, not after mom." She sighed and stopped. "I wish you could have met her, Jeannie. She would have loved you, even if your mom did marry her husband." She grinned. "But what am I pouting about? You obviously enjoyed yourself in your own little world with Bing. How'd he like your hair?"
Jeannie ran her fingers as well as she could through two feet of curly hair. "He was kind of surprised I had so much of it. I didn't realize till about halfway through dinner that he'd never seen it down before. I think he's got a thing for red hair."
Bella laughed. "Well I suppose it's a good thing, considering that's the thing he likes best about you."
"Hey! I am not pursued only for my looks, okay!"
"Yeah, uhun."
"I'm not! People like my brains, too. And my talent. And-"
"Alright, alright! I take it back!"
They were approaching their building, and Jeannie was the first to get her key.
"And because of that outburst of yours I refuse to tell you about the rest of our conversation."
"Fine. I'll just have to call Anne and tell her you've got a new love interest." She pulled her cell off her hip.
"You wouldn't dare!" She reached for it, and Bella ducked through the door.
"Hello, Anne? How are you? I just wanted to tell you that Jeannie-"
"Mom? Don't mind her, she must have picked up a few glasses of champagne at the banquet. You know, drunk dialing and all that. I'm just kidding mom! Of course I'm taking care of her. I can't watch her every minute mom, she's a legal adult, you know. Of course, bye mom." She hung up. "You evil little thing!"
Bella just grinned and waltzed through the door of their apartment. "You challenged me, Jay, you know what happens when I get challenged."
Unfortunately, Jeannie thought to herself, walking through the doorway. She slipped off her shoes at the door and strolled over to the couch, which she climbed over and plopped onto.
"Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got class in the morning. Night, sis."
"Goodnight, Bella."
Bella stuck her tongue out at Jeannie one last time before retiring to her room to play on her computer before going to sleep.
"Alone at last," Jeannie sighed. It had been such a long weekend. Of course the week would be filled with meetings and rehearsals up the wazoo, and she'd probably be getting a few calls from Bing before the week's end. Bing. He's a great man. What does he want with me? There are thousands of gorgeous women in New York and London. Why me? Not to mention he wasn't particularly going to be in this part of the country for very long. Their schedule was not set, at least for the rest of the year. At the beginning of the next year Darcien was booked for all over the country, but for now if he wanted to they could stay in New York. Apparently Darcien could afford to stay in their hotel as long as they wanted to, so Bing saw no reason to up and pack now just to go home and be bothered. Bing had asked about some places where Darcien could schedule concerts and workshops at last minute at dinner, while Darcien and Bella had been arguing about Rachmaninoff. Jeannie had offered a few suggestions, and said she'd check with some of her fellow musicians to see what they might come up with.
Jeannie realized that if she wasn't careful she would be in awful danger of falling for this guy. There had been guys before, but none able to get under her skin so deeply, so fast. He was everything one could want in a man-looks, brains, charm-and then of course the bonus, money. Jeannie would never pursue anyone for mercenary reasons, but she saw no reason in avoiding the fact that the man could afford to go to nice places and stay in nice hotels. Not to mention travel the world. He doesn't seem like the type of man with a woman in every port. That would be devastating. I don't know how I could handle it if this was his form of casual flirtation.
It's been a long three days. Sighing, Jeannie sunk into deep thought, and soon enough had sunk into a deep sleep.
Bella was annoyed. "How could this happen two Fridays in a row?" she muttered to herself. "At least I don't have to run for a cab to catch the last fifteen minutes this time." Bella was usually more averse to talking to herself while walking across campus, but this was the second time her professor had done this to the students in as many weeks. "Why couldn't he just stick to lectures and slides like any normal professor?" She knew, even as she said it, that of course there was no normal professor, and if she was at Columbia, she didn't deserve a normal professor, she deserved a spectacular professor. She had to admit, this one was spectacular. They met for her class twice a week, on Mondays and Fridays. They discussed literature on Mondays and the arts on Fridays. Recently, the arts had been a little more hands-on.
This time, the sign on the door hadn't said what they would be seeing or doing this class period, only where to meet. As she finally reached the side entrance to the building, it dawned on her where she was. She was at the entrance to the music department. Monday, they'd been discussing some of the art they'd seen at the Metropolitan, and were originally going to continue that discussion today. What was so special in the music department that they'd had to forego sphinxes and Da Vinci sketches?*
Her question was answered when she walked into the recital hall. At the front stood a shiny black baby grand Steinway and bench. She looked up among the seats and saw that of the 300 seats in the room there were only sporadic singles left. All of the music students-plus more-in the entire school must be here now! She'd managed to find a near seat to the left of the piano and sit down just as he walked in. It couldn't possibly...of course, it would be!
*So the Da Vinci exhibit was a couple years ago and in Spring, not Fall, but I think a minor anachronism is alright.
He knew he'd told Bing that he wanted to do it, anything to keep him actively playing, but he didn't want to anymore. He wasn't new at this. But he somehow felt vulnerable with three hundred faces his own age staring at him and no one-no orchestra, nothing-at his back. What did you say to students who knew just as much or more about this music than he did? Taking a few breaths to calm himself, he began to speak.
"Hello, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Darcien Wills, I'm going to be playing two sonatas for you today. I'm not familiar with the procedure of this sort of event, and I'm sure most of you have spent more time in school than me, so I suppose I'll play the pieces and then questions may be asked." He gave a small shrug and sat down to play. As he sat, he stared at the keys, assuring himself that he did in fact know the music. The staves appeared in front of his eyes as he settled his fingers lightly over the keys. Then he began to play.
Bella swore she heard every female sigh twice-once when he walked into the room, and then again-louder-when he began to speak. What is it with British accents and this country? She asked herself. But she already knew. However urban England and the rest of the Isles were, there was still something exotic about the British accent to Americans. They simply couldn't resist them. She herself would have been bowled over by the gorgeous man's gorgeous accent if she hadn't known his questionable character traits.
He seems almost scared. Well, he is young, and any crowd of students is intimidating. We question things for a living. She decided to wait and see how his playing would sound. Would it sound wooden, flat? Or was last week just a fluke and he actually put something more than proficiency into his music?
Bella knew from the first few broken chords of Beethoven's 'Appasionata' that last Friday was not a fluke. She figured even he would realize from the title that something from the heart needed to be put behind his fingers. She looked around, seeing if anyone else had realized. Finally, she wasn't the only one to see that something was lacking. Unfortunately this particular population was limited to the straight males in the room-about twenty. They all looked bored, some of them following along with their fingers on their pull across desks. Of course, she thought, anyone attracted to his type probably wouldn't even hear the music the first time they saw him. She closed her eyes, blocking out any vision of him, and listened. It sounded a bit better, without the bias of knowing he couldn't emote. But when she opened her eyes, there it was again. The flat sound of a player piano.
She watched his fingers scale artlessly up and down the keyboard, and could find no fault with his fingering. This room was much more intimate than the concert hall, and being closer to the piano, she could see very clearly that he played expertly in technique and fingering. With his eyes closed and his head minutely moving, one would think he was savoring the music. But Bella knew that trick. He was seeing the music. There were many musicians who could close their eyes and see staves on the insides of their eyelids. He must be one of them. She would have liked it better if he were savoring the music.
He was moving on to the third movement, and if Bella'd had worse manners, she would have groaned. This was an incredibly passionate movement, and he was not putting anything into it. He was just playing. Or more, causing the correct hammers to hit the correct strings. God what I wouldn't give for Barry Douglass or someone like that to be playing in front of me, then I'd get some real music. But I guess I'll just have to settle for what I have.
After sitting through vapid and almost idiotic questions from the dreamy side of the room, Bella found herself stuck listening to one of the more popular Mozart Piano K Sonatas. Here we go again. The entire thing was supposed to be light and airy with a bit of tension-everything had a bit of tension at least-and he played it without missing a mark. But there's a sort of happiness that one should portray while playing anything Mozart wrote in his early life, and Darcien wasn't expressing it. If you were looking closely, she noticed, his face had a sort of bored expression upon it. It was as though he'd been there when Mozart wrote it and didn't care about the beauty of the piece he'd chosen to play.
Once he'd finished, he turned to the audience, awaiting some of the same vapid questions he'd answered after the Beethoven. What he wasn't expecting to see was Isabella Barrett, sitting three rows back, right beside the bench. What's she doing here? He could only wait and see after everything was over. It took him a while to notice that everyone was silent, and she had her hand raised.
He cleared his throat, not wanting to hear what it was that she was going to ask him. It was probably something pointless, like what his favorite color was, so she could wear it to dinner the next time they doubled.
He pointed to her anyway, because he couldn't stand to bear the look in her eyes, daring him to overlook her. "Yes, what is your question?"
She stood, having spoken in front of groups enough to not need to go to the end of the aisle to speak into the microphone. "What do you feel when you play?"
Darcien was surprisingly taken aback by the question. He even had the decency to blink. "Pardon?"
"What do you feel when you play? Every musician feels something besides the leather they're sitting on, what is it that you feel?"
This was, by far, the strangest question of the evening. What do I feel? Well nothing, of course. I leave myself open for the music to work on its own. I don't need to feel.
He looked up at the faces of the students around him, and more than half of them now looked at him with a disgusted look on their faces. Oh dear, did I say that aloud? From the look Bella was giving him, which was mixed with smugness, disgust, and something he couldn't fathom, he could tell he had. Well what was I supposed to say? That was good enough.
"If you'll excuse me," he said, focusing his attention on Bella as he said it, and walked out the main entrance of the hall.
The students, supposing this was the end of their class period for the day, began to file out of the exits, leaving Bella to stand in the middle of the dark recital room, staring at the piano. Had she upset him? Did she care if she had? Not in particular. Wait-no. She did, because she was supposed to be making an effort to be friendly to honor the wishes of her sister. But did that really include asking a musician an obvious question? What was so terrible was not the question, but the response, and the response given to the response. Realizing she should probably say something to him, or at least try, she grabbed her bag and moved towards the same entrance he'd taken, which would lead to the offices of the music department staff and faculty and some places to put guest lecturers and performers.
Finding that she wouldn't be stopped, she went through the entrance and began to look around for a black curly head. Not finding one in the small hallway at the entrance, she followed the signs to the rooms meant for guests. Poking her head into the first one, she saw nothing but darkness. Feeling for the light, she turned it on, only to find no one there. She moved to the next room over, to find the same thing. Well, she thought, three's a charm, or so they say. She moved to the third and final door, and opened it, thankful to see that the light was on. Well at least he's not moping or anything.
She didn't wait for an invitation, but moved into the room, sitting in the closest chair. He looked up at the noise. She took a look at what he'd been looking at, and saw it was a piano score, but couldn't tell which piece or set of pieces.
"Hi."
He appeared to not only be rooted to his spot, but rendered speechless as well.
"Why did you do that?"
Spoke too soon, Bella thought. She cleared her throat. "Do what, exactly?"
He looked down at his score and back up at her. "Put me in that position?"
She flashed him an incredulous look, and then got up to move closer to him. "'Position?' What kind of position could I possibly have put you in? You were the one answering the questions, and an expertly skilled musician such as yourself should have been able to answer that question with no problems whatsoever."
He didn't like the way she'd said 'expertly skilled musician,' but wasn't going to give her any more reason to say anything more like it. I hope this isn't her form of flirting because it's throwing her way off the mark. He couldn't help but smile. Which is certainly a good thing. I would certainly die if she were to make it anywhere with me. At least she's not hanging off of me or anything like Bing's little sister used to do.
Bella didn't at all like the look in his eyes. It was something she couldn't read and she didn't like it. This man was getting to be more than infuriating. She knew she'd said she'd try for something akin to friendship with this dolt for her sake, but she wasn't going to even try if the other party wasn't going to make the effort. Giving one last huff, she turned around, grabbing her bag on the way out the door, and slammed it shut, to the chagrin of the faculty members holding office hours.
Strange, he thought. She's sort of cute when she's angry.