Free The Shivering Sands by Victoria Holt

on, “but I have read of his great talent.”
    Of course, he was referring to Pietro. How nervous I was! I should have known.
    “He was a great musician,” I said, trying to hide the emotion I felt when speaking of him.
    “You will find Mrs. Stacy something less.”
    “There are very few people living who can be compared with him,” I said with dignity; and he inclined his head in a brief respect to Pietro.
    “I shall require you to play for me from time to time,” he went on. “It will be part of your duties. And perhaps on occasions for our guests.”
    “I see.”
    “I should like to hear you play now.” Mrs. Lincroft was suddenly beside me.
    “There’s a piano in the next room,” she said. “You will find the piece which Sir William wishes you to play there.”
    Mrs. Lincroft drew back a heavy curtain and opened the door behind it as I followed her into the room. The first thing I noticed was the grand piano. It was open and a piece of music was set up on it. The room was furnished in the same colors as the one I had just left; and there was the same indication that the owner wished to shut out the light.
    I went to the piano and glanced at the music. I knew every note by heart. It was Beethoven’s Für Elise , in my mind one of the most beautiful pieces ever written.
    Mrs. Lincroft nodded to me and I sat down at the piano and played. I was deeply moved, for the piece brought back memories of the house in Paris and of Pietro. He had said of this piece: “Romantic…haunting…mysterious. You couldn’t go wrong with a piece like that. With that you can hypnotize yourself into thinking you’re a great pianist.”
    So I played and I was soothed and I forgot the sad old man in the next room and the discourteous younger one whom I had met in the stables. Music has this effect on me. I am two people—the musician and the woman. The latter is practical, a little gauche in her defiance of the world because she has been hurt and doesn’t intend to be again, muzzling her emotions and her feelings, pretending they don’t exist because she is afraid of them.
    But the musician is all emotion, all feeling; when I play I can imagine that I am carried away from the world, that I have a special sense, that I am in possession of some subtle understanding which is denied to ordinary people. And I felt as I played that this room which had been dark and sad for a long time was suddenly alive again; that I had brought back something for which it had long yearned. Fanciful yes. But music is not of this mundane world. Great musicians draw their inspiration from the divine influence…and although I am not great, I am at least a musician.
    I finished playing and the room returned to normal, for the magic had disappeared. I felt I had never done better justice to Für Elise , and that had the master overcome his deafness and heard my rendering he would not have been displeased.
    There was silence. I sat at the piano waiting. Then as nothing happened I rose and went through the door holding aside the curtain, which was not completely drawn over it. Sir William was lying back in his chair, his eyes closed. Mrs. Lincroft, who had been standing by him, came swiftly to my side.
    “It was very good,” she whispered. “He was greatly touched by it. Can you find your way back to your room alone, do you think?”
    I said I could and I went out wondering whether the music had so moved Sir William that it had made him ill. At least Mrs. Lincroft felt she must stay with him. What comfort she must be to him—far more than an ordinary housekeeper! No wonder he wanted to repay her by giving her daughter Alice every advantage of education and upbringing.
    Thinking of Sir William, Mrs. Lincroft, and of course the encounter with Napier Stacy, I did not find my way back to my room as easily as I had imagined I would. The house was enormous; there were so many corridors and pairs of stairs which looked so much alike; therefore it was quite