Tread Softly Near My Dreams
Meredith's Tender Awakening: Episode 2.1
“You have only to watch his fingers Merri,” Ariadne sounded breathless. “I am sure he tries to convey his secret passion in the way he touches me.”
She gazed at her small pale hands fondly, stroking one with the other in a dreamy manner. Meredith widened her eyes in surprise at her friend’s fanciful ideas.
“You’re mistaken Ariadne,” she half laughed, half scolded. “Mister Barclay is no more romantically inclined towards you than …” she grasped for an example. “This teapot loves the sugar bowl.”
She could have swatted her friend with her gloves for the concentration with which she studied the items on the tea tray. Instead, she stifled the urge and gave a snort of irritation, which she knew was not ladylike. But they had been friends since she was twelve and Aradne eleven and did not stand on ceremony. Hence she needed to disabuse the young woman of this unlikely idea she had concocted regarding their pianoforte teacher, a man of eight and twenty years and unsteady income.
“Sometimes when we play, it is necessary for Mr Barclay to put his hands on the keys alongside ours, purely to correct us or adjust the finger positioning. You shouldn’t let your imagination get the better of you; notice that his touches are rare and respectful. Plus I am more likely to be on the receiving end than you, because you play like an angel and my style is competent at best.”
Ariadne regarded the older girl with wide, blue eyes, and a pout forming on her apricot-hued lips. But when she did not argue, Meredith hoped that she’d quashed her friend’s fanciful notions. Perhaps Ariadne was frustrated or a little envious that she was already ‘out’ in society. Meredith racked her brains for an amusing anecdote from attending recent gatherings with which to entertain her companion.
“I overheard Mister Fitzclancy in conversation with Miss Malcolm the other night,” she began, smoothing the sprigged fabric of her day gown as she sat. “He has recently taken a tour of Scotland, and was waxing lyrical about the rugged, windswept scenery.” Meredith adopted a slightly huskier way of speaking to represent Mister Fitzclancy’s words. “‘And how tall do you think Ben Nevis is, Miss Malcolm?’ he asked, stroking the moustaches he has been sporting all season. ‘I couldn’t estimate Mister Fitzclancy,’ Miss Malcom replied, fluttering her fan for all she was worth, ‘I have never met the gentleman.’”
Ariadne released a peal of bright laughter. Being as fond of geography as she was skilled at music, she recognized Ben Nevis as Scotland’s highest mountain. It tickled her to feel superior to Miss Malcolm, who wore fine gowns and striking necklaces but was apparently not blessed with an inquiring mind.
“She is a silly goose!” Ariadne giggled and smiled conspiratorally.
“Mr Barclay, the pianoforte tutor,” a footman announced.
He showed a tall young man into the drawing-room, who bowed respectfully to the two ladies, enquired dutifully as to their health, then settled himself on the piano stool, stretching his arms and flexing his fingers.
This novel is currently being serialized on my Ream account. Subscribe to my Shake a Tailfeather tier and read ahead. New chapters are published on Mondays. To try one month for free, leave me a comment.