The Musician (Emerson Pass Historicals 5) - Page 7

“Yes, unlike your mother, who came out here alone all those years ago.” Papa’s gaze flickered to her, and they exchanged a knowing smile. Too poor to secure a chaperone, she’d come alone from Boston to become Emerson Pass’s first schoolteacher. But she’d met Papa and all of us and was never alone again, whether she wished for peace and quiet or not. “It would be good to send a companion with you.”

“But who? Cymbeline’s married now.” I looked over at her. “Viktor wouldn’t be able to come with us, and it would be wrong of me to ask you to be away from your new husband for such a long time.”

“Two of my girls in Paris alone isn’t my idea of a chaperone,” Papa said. “Especially if one of them is Cymbeline.”

“Very funny, Papa.” Cymbeline’s eyes shone as bright as jewels. “I can’t go anyway, even if Viktor wouldn’t mind.” Her hand rested on her flat stomach. “It wouldn’t be wise for me to be that far away from home or Theo.”

“Yes, of course,” I said, feeling selfish for wishing it otherwise. I was happy for her. I was. But this would all take some time to adjust to.

“I believe he or she comes in the fall if my calculations are correct.” Cymbeline beamed. “Me, a mother! What is the world to think? Viktor’s thrilled, as I knew he would be. He’s already building a cradle. I am too, of course. It’ll mean no jumping for a while, but you’ll be surprised to hear I don’t care one bit. A baby, Fiona. Can you imagine? I’m going to have a baby.”

“You’ll be a wonderful mother.” I hugged her. But the world seemed wrong just then. Cym with a baby and me going off to Paris. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The idea of leaving Cym in her time of need made me light-headed.

“I must be here for Cymbeline. I can’t be gallivanting around Paris,” I said.

“You'll be back before he or she comes,” Cym said. “Don’t worry, goose. It’s your time to have all the attention on you for once. I won’t be there to be demanding your attention or Jo telling you what to do. You’ll be studying music in Paris with only yourself to please.”

“Paris is a large city,” I said. “I don’t know if I could live there alone without anyone from home. What if I can’t find my way around?”

“Don’t be silly,” Cym said. “You’ll be fine. Viktor and I found our way around after only a few days.” I’d heard so many tales from Cym’s honeymoon that I felt as if I’d been there myself. But Cym and Viktor were courageous souls, unafraid of change or the unknown. They’d had each other, too.

“Emerson Pass is enough for me,” I said under my breath. “It pleases me to be here.”

Either they didn’t hear or were ignoring me because Mama agreed, reiterating that it would be a special time for me and how much I deserved it after being such a good friend to my siblings.

“So, if not me, then who?” Cym asked, casually, as if she’d only just thought of the idea. “Perhaps Li Wu could go with her?

Oh, my sister was wicked. I loved her so.

She knew my feelings for Li. All my sisters and borthers knew. Even if I’d wanted to keep any, there were no secrets among the five of us older siblings. After Flynn’s secret led to so much chaos, we’d all vowed to never again keep something from one another.

“If Li can come with me, then it sounds more palatable,” I said, imitating Cym’s casual tone.

“Li? I don’t know,” Papa said. “He has his grandmother to take care of now. It would be a burden if we asked him, and he wouldn’t be able to say no. He’s always going on about how much I’ve done for him. I’d hate for him to agree only to please me.” Papa had given Li and his sister and grandmother a place to be warm and well-fed when he found them living in the old mining office. Li’s parents and grandfather had come to Colorado in search of gold, like so many in the heady days of the gold rush. Sadly, they’d perished, leaving behind two young children with only their elderly grandmother to care for them.

“Papa, it’s a trip to Paris,” Cym said. “He’d be foolish to say no.”

“Yes, indeed.” Papa’s brow creased. “Perhaps we should take her.” He looked over at Mama, clearly thinking out loud. “The little girls are old enough to stay without us for a few months, especially with Lizzie and Jasper here to look after them. We could have that honeymoon we’ve always been too busy for. I could show you England.”

Mama put her hands to her cheeks. “Alexander, really? Could we?”

“Why not? There’s peace throughout all of Europe now. There would be no danger. I could see my brother. It might be time to mend our relationship.” I’d never really known why Papa and his brother didn’t get along but knew it pained him.

“But first, Fiona, you’ll have to decide if this is what you want to do,” Papa said. “It’s a considerable expense, so I want you to be sure.”

How could I say no? Not after seeing the excitement on Mama’s face. If they went, would Li be able to come too? What about the money? Wouldn’t it all be terribly expensive?

“Is it too much?” I asked in one last attempt at persuading them to keep me home. “Papa, you must tell me if it is. I shan’t care to spend all your money.” Please say it’s too much.

“The expense is not a problem,” Papa said softly. “But only if you truly want to go.”

“I’m afraid my voice isn’t good enough,” I said. “And what will I do with all that training anyway? It’s not as if I want to tour the world stage or whatever it is famous people do.”

“You can bring it home to Emerson Pass,” Mama said. “To delight the rest of us born without your talent. Music is the food of the soul, darling.”

I smiled. “Yes, it is.”

“Why don’t you want to go?” Mama asked simply.

I looked into the orange and blue flames of the fire, hoping she couldn’t see the deception that draped over me as ugly as a dust cloth. “I don’t feel the need for an adventure as Cym did. Nor am I as clever as Jo or as ambitious as the twins. I’m only Fiona. Who am I to go to Paris and act otherwise?”

“You’re an extremely talented young lady,” Papa said. “Just as your siblings are. But no one has your musical ability or the voice of an angel. We want you to study with the best.”

“And Pierre Basset. The chance to study with him is a chance of a lifetime,” Mama said. “He’s trained some of the finest voices in the world. And think of it, darling—time in Paris when you’re young.”

“But you’re going to leave me there alone?” I asked, feeling teary. “All by myself. And what do we know about Mr. Basset?” Was he kind in addition to being a good teacher? “Does he know I don’t want to be an opera singer?” The shrill tones didn’t appeal to me. If it made me uncivilized, I didn’t care. Blues, jazz, and popular music made me happy. “Do you think he’ll want me to?”

“He understands you’re not that kind of singer,” Papa said. “I made sure of that.”

I thought for a moment about how this had come to be. Papa had circumvented me in this decision. Shouldn’t I be the one to decide with whom and where I studied? Even as I thought this, a thick fog of guilt engulfed me. Papa wanted only the best for me. He’d assumed I’d be happy to go. Paris in the spring and summer. Studying with a world-renowned teacher? Who wouldn’t want this?

Me.

Tags: Tess Thompson Emerson Pass Historicals Historical
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