A short story from college…and recently edited. It is encouraging to look back and see how you’ve grown as a writer.

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1 e and a 2 e and a 3 e and a 4 e and a 5 e and a 6 e, 1 2 3 4 5 6. Rest. 1 fermata  e and a 2  3 4 5 6. The notes were all dashing inside of my head, and I was startled by the steady knock on my bedroom door. I jolted sending my ink jar onto the floor, another task for the maidservant as a habit of my clumsiness. 

“Enter.”

“Monsieur André Devereux is here to call on you, Mademoiselle Celeste. He is in the Library.”

“Merci Jacque. Tell him I will be down presently, and please send someone to tidy the ink from my floor. I don’t want it to stain.”

“Oui Oui Mademoiselle.”

I glanced at my complexion in the mirror, my blonde curls pulled back, and rosy cheeks; this will have to do. 

My skirt billowed out as I walked down the staircase as fast as I could move. A maidservant passed by with vinegar and a cloth, to clean my clumsiness. I passed through the large calico-wall-papered hallway and through the stain glass paneled doors leading to the library. 

As I stood by the doorframe, I could see André with one of my father’s many law books. I didn’t make myself know to him. It was a flirtatious habit I had acquired watching André as he read quietly, but it was something I enjoyed very much. He often came to escort me to his mother’s house Madame Devereux, my music teacher. I had been courting André for some months now as well. 

I hadn’t cared for him or him for me in this manner of affection, but my mother and teacher created this plan so I might have the opportunity to continue my lessons without my father’s suspicions. I would was able to go to his mother’s home as often as needed to continue lessons from her. Father often told me of his dislike for the new ideals of the century. If he knew André and my original intent for our courtship, he would be furious. I had to fool him to pursue my passion of music.

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“No daughter of mine will be composing music and competing in a world of men. You must stop your lessons now.” My father’s finger was shaking frantically at me. His tone of voice was harsh. He was pacing in the parlor as he spoke. “You have achieved more than enough proficiency to entertain yours guests, but you have become far too devoted to this diversion. As your father, I command you stop taking this so seriously.” 

“Father, you know how much joy music gives me.” I tired holding back the tears that wanted to form. I looked down at my folded hands trying to avoid his angry glare.

“We have exhausted this discussion on numerous occasions. I don’t like these new ideals you have about society and propriety. A woman being dominant in society is not proper. You are at the age to find a husband, not to make to yourself on old-maid. ”

“The time is changing, please let me continue. Women are taking on many roles in society Papá. I have been told I have talent.”

“This discussion is finished Celeste Marielle Valmorin. I do not want to talk of this again.”

“Yes Sir.” I left and closed the large mahogany doors behind me. Tears brimmed from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I stood frozen by the door. Cease all connection with music? Madame Devereux had only recently given me a new piece to practice. I tried to think of each note, and picture the melody in my head to calm myself. I only began to cry more. How in the name of Bizet can I stop? I ran to my bedroom as more tears flowed. I ran up the steps. A manservant passing looked at me as if I had gone daft. I fear I would for the rest of my days. 

I closed the door behind me. I sat on my four-post bed, crossing my arms. I got up stamping my foot. What a fit I was in. Oh, my father was being so irrational. He was so caught in the past. This is a new era, a new age has dawned. Monsieur Valmorin still prefers the waltz to the new ragtime. I need my music. Please Mon Dieu, I love music, help me to keep it in my life. 

Tears were still in my eyes as I grabbed the music from my desk. I delicately fingered each page with caution. I turned the pages looking at each note, beat, rhythm, and key signature. I tried to imagine I was playing, my hands gliding along the imaginary white and black ivory, imaginging my fingers touching each one. Before I place my fingers upon the pianoforte, I also did as Madame Devereux taught me. ‘Know the melodies and harmonies of the music in your head before you play a single note. Learn to feel it inside of you.’ With music inside of me, I try to hear it inside my head. I must continue for I cannot stop. God has given me this gift of music and ardent desire to play and compose. Let no one or nothing come in my way. 

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André looked up from his book, and saw me standing near the doors. His dark brown eyes now faced me, his eyes wide.

“You succeed to startle me each time. I do believe you mean to,” He held out his arms to me.

I walked over to him and took his hands into mine. Our charade of courtship became less and less difficult. 

“I never intended to shock you. I only enjoy watching your excitement when you read my father’s law books. Your law is coming well, Monsieur?” 

“Oui, very well Mademoiselle. I am to take on a case soon. My partner believes it will be very beneficial to our firm. And you have been looking over your music?”

“As often as I can spare the second. Music is never absent from my mind.”

“Let us be going to your lesson, my mother will begin to wonder.” André said as he his offered his arm to me.

Together we walked to the front door. 

“Oh! A moment, I did not greet you.” André stopped in the middle of the hallway, servants passing. He took my hand and softly kissed it, holding it to his lips far longer than necessary. I loved the tingle of his lips on the back of my hand. His eyes never left my own. He was doing this more and more often, and I loved it.  

André and I walked arm in arm down the brick walkway toward Madame Dervereux’s Chateau.  We passed many beautiful homes as we walked the bustling street lined with vendors and passing carriages, the Eiffel tower towering over the other buildings. 

“André, I feel very guilt when I walk to my lesson. My father does not want me to pursue music this seriously any longer. And you and I as a cover up for my disobedience.”

“Your father may not know what is best for you. My mamá has your own convinced of your music genius. She is right of that talent. Queen Victoria has invited you to play. Many pianists and composers can only dream of playing for the English Empress.” We walked onto another street.

“Oui, but I have been so dishonest. My father thinks I have stopped my lessons and have finally started to become a serious young woman. This will only lose what trust he has in me.”

“You are a serious with your music, and your devotion to the art has given you a courtship.”

“André, I am blessed to have you. Our relationship is no longer only a cover-up. Hiding my lessons with our courtship, I feel torn. My mother approves while my father does not.”

“Your mother knows, and she will help you tell the truth when the time comes for your father to know.”

“Why has he not figured this out?”

André and I arrived at Madame Devereux’s chateau.  André walked up the steps ahead of me and grasped the lion head knocked. It konked loud upon the door. I need to focus on music now. The maidservant opened the door and André guided me inside.

“Let my mother know Celeste and I will be in the parlor, Marianne.”

“Yes Monsieur André.”

Madame Devereux came entered while I was warming up my mind and hands with some Moonlight Sonata.

“Ah, Celeste, Mon petit. Bravissima, keep playing.” Madame Devereux came bouncing into the parlor, her spectacles resting on her nose, and her frizzing gray hair in every which way on her head. “André my son, Good day.” 

“Good day mamá.” He stood as his mother entered the room and greeted her with a kiss on his cheek and another to the right cheek. 

 “Celeste, let’s practice the piece you shall play for Queen Victoria.”

1 e and a 2 e and a 3 e and a 4 e and a 5 e and a 6 e, Forte. 1 2 3 4 5 6. Rest. 1e and a 2  3 4 5 6 Pianissimo. Hearing each note in my head before I began to play, looking at the music in front of me, soon it would be in my memory. 

Madame spoke “Play when ready.”

1 e and a 2 e and a 3 e and a 4 e and a 5 e and a 6 e, 1 2 3 4 5 6. Rest. 1 e and a 2 3 4. I played each note and Madame’s soothing help “Pianissimo, now crescendo…careful.” Each beat in my head, the sole thing I hear is the sound of the music. Noting else. 

“Magnifique, Celeste, without the music now. You are expected to know this as part of your own mind. A true pianist knows the music from inside of them. Again.”

Again the notes began to rush through my fingers, I counted the notes, rhythm, beat, saw the signatures in my head, as I looked at the white and black ivory keys. I didn’t need to imagine the keys as I imagined them at home. I could now touch every note and hear the sound vibrate in my ears, soul, and heart. 

After two hours of practicing and practicing, at times doing the same part multiple times, I had to finish my lessons. 

“Before I go, may I ask something of you Madame Devereux?”

“Yes Celeste, anything, dear.”

“Will you tell my Father about my recital for the British Royal Family? I wish you tell him and explain to him.” I still sat on the piano bench. I did not want to leave this chateau without feeling more certain my father would somehow be there to see me play, and know I would not have to play in secret.

“You and your mother should tell him, ma chère.”

“Yes, I suppose, but I don’t think I have the courage. I have been lying to him for so long.”

“You must little one, he will be more flattered that you tell him. You need to ask forgiveness.”

“I will try.” 

I stood from the piano bench, and André stood with me and walked out of the parlor door by my side. Opening the door for me, we walked out onto the Parisian street. The sun was beginning to set, and I suddenly realized my happiness was setting with it as well. André’s arm was wrapped around my own. The busy streets were not as crowded as before, and the shops began to close for evening supper. 

“Good day André, Au revoir.”

“Au revoir, Celeste. Mon amour.” He kissed my hand.

I watched him until he turned he street corner. As soon as the front door was closed, I dashed up the stairs. I held up my skirt and petticoat past my ankles so I could run up without restraint.

I knocked on my mother’s bedroom door, 

“Enter, my child.”

“How did you know it was me, mamá?” 

“I know how my child knocks.” My mother turned to the door as I walked in. She was sitting on her vanity combing her long silky blonde hair, its color exactly like my own.

“Lessons went well, Celeste?” I sat down on the red velvet chaise lounge near the vanity.

“Yes, mamá. Very well.” 

“I am glad to hear. What is on your mind? You looked troubled.”

“I must tell father. I cannot stand keeping this a secret from him any longer. And I would love for him to hear me play for the Queen Victoria.”

“Ah, oui.” She down her brush.

“Oui mamá.”

“Your father loves you very much, Celeste. He will be proud of you, but give him time to calm after you tell him. He will be upset at first.”

“Father has reason to be… I am going to tell him now. Adieu mamá.” Looking at my mother once more, “May you come with me?” 

“No, no. You are able on your own.”

I opened the door and squeezed through it. Walking through the now dark hall with no candle or oil lamps lit, I approached the stairs. I walked down the stairs taking each step slower and slower. My father was in the library sipping his pre-supper sherry. 

“My I speak with you, father. It is very important.” I stayed at the entrance afraid to come any closer.

“Yes Celeste, come in and sit.”  He was sitting in the wingback near the oil lamp, as he read the paper. 

“Père, I must ask for your forgiveness.”

My father stood up and come over to where I stood only a few feet from him. 

“Continue Celeste.” He raised his eyebrows causing his brow to furrow.

“Mother and Madame Devereux wanted me to keep pursuing music because they believe a have musical talent Père.”

“Are you telling me you have been taking lessons without my consent?”

“Yes Father, mother also arranged my courtship with André Devereux to allow me to go to Madame Devereux’s as often as possible. She hoped that you would believe it to because of the courtship.”

“Why are you blurting all this to me now after the plan seemed to be going flawlessly?”

“Père, I do not want to deceive you anymore. It is wrong. I ask you forgive me.”

My father sat back in his wing backed chair. He downed the rest of his sherry and looked at me. 

I went over to his chair and knelt by the armrest, “Father, I would be honored if you would attend my performance for Queen Victoria.”

“What?” he stared down at me and his eyes grew large. His voice raised.

 “I am to play for the British Royal Family. One of their relations was very impressed when he heard me play.”

“Who is this?”

“The Count of York who attended our family’s  Midsummer’s Eve ball papá.”

I stood from the floor. Staring at the dead fireplace, there was one final matter I had to tell.

“One more last detail father,” I clasped my hands in front of my gown. “André and I really do care for each other, very deeply père.”

“I must have not seen your talent, I should have seen it. Yet my child, how could you and your mother have come up with such a plan. This must mean much more to you than I realized if you were willing to do all of this Celeste. I will come to this grand performance, but,” his hand raised.

“You are not upset with me?”

“I am extremely angry. You will need to regain my trust.” 

Father stood staring at the fireplace.  His silence was more deadly than his speech. 

“I did not believe you would let me play. I will stop my lessons papá. Please forgive me and come to see my performance.”

“I will come Celeste, but as a punishment, and to let you know how terribly upset and angered  I am, you must not take lessons until after you are married; preferably to André.”

“Thank you, Thank you.” I bounced up and down on my toes.” I kissed him on each cheek.

“I will see you play beautifully I am sure. But you should not rush your courtship just to restart your lessons.”

“Thank you, Père.”