The Lady of Blackwood Chpt 10

Chapter 10 – New World

Sweet music drifted from the dining hall. Floating on the beckoning melody, Florence entered the hall and attempted to locate the source of the auditory river. Unable to find it, she closed her eyes and absorbed the music with all her senses, through her skin, through the air she breathed – everything was filled with the sound. A world opened before her, dark and colourless, as the invisible violin produced low, sad tones. Tears stung the back of her eyes, not because she was sad, but because her body did not know how else to express the emotions that were drawn from her with every stroke of the bow. In her colourless world mist flowed over meadows, dark clouds above mingled with the feathery, low-lying mist in a melancholic dance. Now the notes methodically climbed higher, sometimes revisiting their brooding low brothers, but constantly they rose again, to heights of bitter-sweet peace, love and faith. Sunlight pierced the mist of her mind's eye and created pillars of soft yellow light in that dull grey world. Never before had she known that sound could produce colours, but now she knew, and inhaling deeply she watched the pale flowers of the meadows bloom, taking on purple and blue hues. When the last note faded away there was a rainbow in the cloudless sky.

The Count emerged from a shadow in a corner near the fireplace, violin in hand.
"Shall we?", he asked and pulled out her chair. Rubbing the goosebumps on her arms, Florence took her seat. Not trusting her voice, she remained quiet throughout dinner. Thankfully the Count caught onto her strange mood (or perhaps he had seen the tears in her eyes) and remained quiet too, forfeiting his usual questions. When the tune started to fade and she could no longer precisely remember her favourite part, she cleared her throat to speak.
"Would you mind", her voice was barely more than a whisper, "playing that song again?" Her pudding remained untouched. "It was... indescribably beautiful." Something stirred in his golden eyes. For a fleeting moment she imagined she could see into his soul and she thought that perhaps her own soul was laid bare too. She further imagined that their souls mirrored each other; that perhaps he knew that cloudy world, because he was the one who had created it.
His soulful eyes became hooded when he shook his head. "I have a better idea", the Count said and motioned to Mary, who had been clearing away Florence's empty plates.
"When you are done here, Mary, call the others, bring everyone you can find." There was a sparkle in his eye. "And tell Sam to bring two barrels of wine, the best he can track down in that dusty old cellar."
"Yes, m' lord", Mary curtsied and hurried off.
Florence raised a questioning eyebrow, but received no answer.

Half an hour later the dining table was cleared and even the table itself had been cleared away. It had taken no less than six men to move the massive hulk of wood to a wall. Where it had stood there was now a  big space on the old wooden floors and a small crowd of servants filled this space. Massive cream coloured tapestries with intricate gold threaded patterns covered the floor-to-ceiling windows. A fire blazed in the old hearth and above it, as though formed by the smoke, hung a portrait, the size of the two giant doors that admitted entry to the hall. It was a painted picture of an old-fashioned version of Marcus. If one had to judge by the clothes, they would guess it was Marcus's great grandfather that smiled benevolently down on the crowd below. The candle-lit chandeliers cast a warm glow throughout the hall and the warm glow was accompanied by the warm buzz of excited conversation of the forty-something occupants.
Florence who had never before realized there were so many people on the castle grounds, searched the crowd for the Count. Old Sam was rolling a wine barrel into the hall. Some younger lads attempted to help, but the Count waved them away and helped Sam himself. When it was in position, he removed his dinner coat, grabbed up the violin and deftly jumped onto a chair. Before his feet properly landed his fingers were summoning a tune from the frail instrument on his shoulder. The bow darted back and forth optimistically and conjured a delightful tune, full of life, youth and energy. It was almost impossible to believe this same instrument had produced the melancholic sounds of earlier.
All at once the audience responded to the music, their bodies incapable of staying still in the presence of such fabulous dance-inducing rhythm. Here and there men led women to the centre of the hall and turned the dining hall's floor into a dance floor. Somewhere a woman squealed with delight. The Count winked at her and leapt from the chair onto a table, doing his own little dance on it, amazingly avoiding the candles and glasses there. While the Count poured music, Old Sam poured wine. A stable lad, turned over an empty wine container and provided a beat to the melody.  Elizabeth, who stood next to Florence, put down a crutch and clapped her small hands to the beat.
Justine whirled by in the arms of one of the gardeners. Mary was on her heals with a stable lad, though the latter seemed to have trouble keeping his feet off his partner's. On more than one occasion they both burst out laughing and started over.
Old Sam shoved wine glasses into Florence and Elizabeth's hands and scurried off to serve other sober-looking people. Elizabeth looked at the glass for a moment and then at Florence, before throwing her head back and downing the whole glass. The shocked Florence gaped for a second and then did the same. Nearby, a half dozen servants cheered and Florence and Elizabeth collapsed in a giggling fit.
Meanwhile the Count was playing the violin masterfully, his lean fingers moved from string to string so fast the movements were barely visible. Florence noticed that the Count rarely looked at his instrument. He played with the ease of a master, someone who has had many years of practice and not much else to do. His instrument was an extension of his body, it might as well have been a third arm. He keenly watched everyone from his stage atop the table. Then his amber eyes met Florence's. With a flush she realized she had been watching him and she quickly looked away. After that, every time her eyes would stray back to him she found him watching her. His gaze was so intense it seemed as though he had entirely forgotten the instrument in his hands; yet the music continued. His gaze was so piercing it made Florence deaf to the music and Elizabeth's chattering; the thumping in her ears was much louder than either of these. Each time she saw that gaze, her face grew instantly hot and she would break eye contact.
After an hour or two, the music that had transitioned from one song to the next, faded away. The dancers stopped their twirling and waited for the Count to start another tune. He removed the violin from its perch and cleared his throat.
"Thank you to each and every one for being such loyal, trusty friends", he said, bowing dramatically. The crowd applauded as one.
"Please enjoy the wine. Old Sam assures me it is the finest in our cellars and perhaps the finest in the country."
"Hear, hear!", someone shouted.
The Count put down his violin and jumped down from the table, landing lightly on his toes and rolling onto his heels. Some of the dancers moaned, displeased that their music was gone.
"If you would like further musical entertainment", the Count said as he walked through the crowd toward Florence, "I know an excellent piano player." Without warning he picked up the unsuspecting Elizabeth, threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried her to the grand piano. This was all done to the delighted cheers of the servants.
"No, I can't –", Elizabeth protested feebly.
"Of course you can, my dear," the Count said when he had put her down on the piano chair. "I paid for your lessons. I ought to know."
"But –"
"Don't be shy, my dear Beth. Don't worry that you'll make a mistake – most of them are already too drunk to notice and the rest... well, they love you too much to care." He lovingly ruffled her hair.
Tentatively she looked at the piano keys. The nearest of the crowd were cheering "Beth! Beth!"
"Come on", the Count whispered, when she hesitated. There was urgency in his voice. "Help me out here. I want a dance with Florence and I can't do that if I have to provide the music as well."
Finally she understood. Nodding, she purposefully turned to the piano and let her fingers rest on the keys. Seeing this, the spectators renewed its cheers and whoops.
"What shall I play?" she asked the Count.
"Whatever is in your heart", he advised and walked back to Florence who had been watching all this with a smile. A tune just as lively as the ones he had previously played filled the air. The dancers resumed their twirling; Florence and Marcus in their midst.