Preludes, page 1
Preludes
A Modern Persuasion Improvisation
Riana Everly
Contents
Acknowledgments
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Notes
About the Author
Much Ado in Meryton
Also by Riana Everly
PRELUDES: A MODERN PERSUASION IMPROVISATION
Copyright © 2022 Riana Everly
All rights reserved.
Published by Bay Crest Press 2022
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental
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Cover design by White Rabbit Arts, the cover designer of The Historical Fiction Company
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ISBN-13: 978-1-7781297-1-1
Created with Vellum
To music, those who make it, and those who love it.
If music be the food of love, play on.
Acknowledgments
This book, in many ways, has been a real labour of love for me. Although I am a musician by training, this is my first book where music has taken centre stage. Orchestras are my playground, symphonies are my favourite toys, and I want to acknowledge every composer who ever put pen to paper to create this wonderful music. Sammartini, Boyce, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Mahler… it’s impossible to complete this list. But thank you, all of you, for the music.
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Then there are the individuals without whom this book would be a far lesser work. My gratitude is profound. Mikael Swayze, editor and proof-reader extraordinaire, deserves accolades. Also, a special thanks to my friend and brilliant author Liz Martinson, for her insightful comments. Further thanks go to Dr. Hedy Ginzberg for her assistance with the medical scenes, to Gavriel Swayze for his insight into legal matters, and to beta readers Nikita Sridhar, Anne Madison, Josanna Thompson, and Diane Andersen.
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And I cannot neglect to offer my thanks to Dee Marley at The Historical Fiction Company for her beautiful cover design. If I made an extra effort on this book, it was to live up to the outside.
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Cover design by White Rabbit Arts, the cover designer of The Historical Fiction Company
www.thehistoricalfictioncompany.com/book-cover-design
There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.
Jane Austen, Persuasion
Chapter One
Introduzione
The building was quiet. Everybody had gone home, the tech guys had turned off the lights, and the great hall stood empty and waiting. If Anne sat absolutely still, she could swear she still heard the faint echoes of music reverberating off the baffles and sound panels that banked the vast space. But it was not music that thrummed through her ears now. No silver cascade of the harp or brilliant gold triumph of trumpets. No iridescent swell of bows upon strings or undulating green cries of the oboe. Rather, it was the dull red tympanic throb of her heartbeat she heard as the blood rushed through her veins.
She tried to look away but her eyes returned again and again to the email open on her phone, bright and glaring in the dark auditorium.
Grand news, Anne dear! The orchestra has just engaged a new principal conductor and you will never guess who it is. Frederico Valore!
Yes, Fred! You must have known him from years ago. Isn’t it wonderful? Remember the fuss we all made when he was starting his career? We knew he was good, but whoever would have imagined he would become the darling of Europe’s music scene? What a coup to bring him back home. The musicians will be thrilled. The board will make the official announcement tomorrow afternoon. You will be there, right? We need you there. The press conference is at 2, with a spread afterwards. Wear something fabulous. Fred will join us on Zoom from Rome.
So thrilling! See you there,
Sophia
“Thrilling.” Dreadful was more the word. After all this time, Fred was quite the last person she wanted to see. It had been a long time—eight years—and the pain was as acute as it had been that very last day before he left. Time had not healed these wounds, and they were about to be reopened.
She sighed and fumbled for the button on her phone. In a moment the screen went black, leaving her alone in the dark space, only the green glow of the exit signs left to cast their eerie light on the rows of chairs and empty stage.
“Ahem.”
Someone cleared his throat by one of the back doors.
“Doctor Elliot? You still there?”
Anne grabbed for her coat and bag. “Yes, sorry Kostas. You’ll want to be locking up and getting home too. I’m coming now.” She slid along the row of seats and worked her way up the dark aisle towards the square of lights where the doorway was. “Give my best to your family.” She waved goodbye to the custodian and wandered out into the dusk.
Marie was waiting in her SUV at the curb.
“Sorry to keep you.” Anne leaned over from the passenger seat and kissed her sister on the cheek. “I had an… an unexpected email that needed attention.”
“I don’t know why you won’t get a car, Anne,” was Marie’s response. “Look at this traffic. It took me half an hour to get down here, and it will take twice as long to get home. I had to leave the boys with my mother-in-law, and you know how she is with them. She spoils them so badly, they are total bears when I get them back. And Charles won’t tell her to stop, and she never listens to me. Why does no one ever think about me?”
Anne collapsed into the padded seat. This was not a new conversation. “I told you I would take the bus. You didn’t need to come for me. I wouldn’t miss my nephew’s birthday.”
“What? And leave you at the mercy of the transit system, and with all those people? You might catch something, and pass it along to me, and you know how I come down with every single bug and get so sick, and no one believes me. Don’t get me started about what the boys bring home from school. I can’t move off the couch for weeks each fall.”
A black sedan pulled in front of the SUV and Marie pressed her hand into the horn, sending a blast of noise through the vehicle. “Damned aggressive drivers. Aw crap, now it’s starting to rain. Really, Anne, I wish you’d drive so I don’t have to pick you up all the time.” She turned north onto a busy street, already a sea of tail lights reflecting off the damp midnight-black road. “Look at all this traffic. At least you have time to tell me again about this project you’re doing.”
“I told you all about it when I won the position last spring.”
“Oh, Anne, you know I never listen. Now was the first day, wasn’t it? Tell me again. I’ll listen this time. Out of the way, blue Honda! This is my lane! Turn on the radio, would you, Anne? I can’t concentrate on driving without music. No, not that station. Here, I can sing along with this. Don’t cut me off, red Subaru! It’s my lane!”
Anne closed her eyes against the glare of lights and her sister’s off-key belting and resigned herself to the torture of the trip back to Marie’s house.
At last, they reached their destination. The dusk had, by now, settled into night and the windows were all bright against the darkness. Charles’ car was in the driveway; he must have gone to collect the boys from his parents’ place two blocks away.
“Anne!” He greeted her with a hug that spoke of genuine affection. “Come in. Let me take your coat. The kids are watching some nonsense on the TV. I’ve put on the kettle if you want something hot, and there’s wine in the fridge. Jakey wanted pizza, and it’s his birthday, so I ordered some.”
From the corner of her eye, Anne saw Marie scowl, but Charles continued on. “I won’t take your bag. That must contain your big new piece, right? You’ll want to hold on to that. Let’s have a drink and I want to hear all about your day. It’s not every day that someone’s sister-in-law becomes the composer-in-residence for the National Philharmonic. Mum and Dad are here too, and they’ll want to hear all about it. Tell us ever
She followed her brother-in-law into the family room. Her two nephews sat in a nook off the main room, eyes glued to some animated show on the television. They jumped up and gave Auntie Anne a quick hug and kiss before returning to their show. Charles’ parents were seated on the large, overstuffed sofa. Brenda Musgrove hoisted her large body up from the cushions to crush Anne in a generous hug. Tom, larger still and less mobile, remained in his place, but his greeting was no less warm.
“Annie! Look at you, the great composer. It’s always a treat to see you. Come, these old bones won’t move, but you can sit between us. You look cold. We’ll warm you up. Shift over, Brenda dear, so Annie can fit. There.”
At last, nestled between Charles’ parents on the sofa and with a glass of sherry in her hand, Anne finally succumbed and talked about her new role.
“It’s something quite new, really.” She took a sip from her glass, allowing the sweet liquid to slide down her throat. “I am the composer-in-residence for the National Philharmonic—”
“That’s an orchestra, kids,” Brenda shouted through the television’s din.
“Basically, we’re trying a new idea. Rather than just writing music and giving it to the orchestra to play, we’re going to do something more cooperative. I’ll give the orchestra a first draft, in a sense, of my symphony, and we’ll workshop it together. I’ll work with the conductor and the musicians and together we’ll see what works and what doesn’t. It’s a bit scary, but also very exciting. I’m nervous about what they’ll all say, but I know this will push me to the next level.”
“You’re too modest, Annie. Nervous? Don’t be silly!” Tom threw a fleshy arm around her shoulder. “You were on the front page of the newspaper’s entertainment section last weekend! I showed all our neighbours the article. ‘Look! Anne Elliot, the famous composer. My daughter-in-law, practically.’ We were so proud. And you’ve written the background music for a movie—one that people have actually seen! What could these musicians say other than that you’re amazing?”
“I play the piano too,” Marie interjected from where she stood by the window.
“Of course you do, dear,” Brenda gave a deep nod that set her chins jiggling. “And so beautifully as well. The boys are so lucky to grow up in a house filled with lovely music all the time. Now Annie,” she turned back, “what was today’s thing, then? What’s in that bag that Charles wouldn’t take from you?”
Anne laughed. “The bag is not nearly as precious as all that! Today was the first read-through of my symphony. We haven’t really started doing anything yet. I just wanted to hear it. I made a few notes—that’s what’s in the bag—but the real work will begin after the new conductor arrives. Ultimately, it’s his interpretation that the audience will hear, so his input is key.”
She heard the words as she spoke them, so unaffected and disinterested. The conductor. So simple. Like the baker or the guy down the hall. It didn’t sound at all like each syllable squeezed a fist around her heart.
“Yes, well, that’s all very nice, I’m sure.” Marie’s jaw was tight and her eyes narrow. Why was she always so cross when people’s attention was focussed somewhere other than on her? Anne let out a little sigh as Marie continued. “But we should start to get ready for supper. Come boys, let’s wash up. We want to be ready to eat when the pizza arrives. Really, Charles, you know how bad pizza is for them. They won’t sleep well and Dylan will be up all night with a stomach-ache. And there is so much sugar in the cake too. They’ll be sick all weekend, and you know that I’ll be the one who has to look after them, and you know how poorly I do when I don’t get enough sleep.”
And on she went. Charles threw a supplicatory look to where Anne still sat on the sofa, and she answered with a wry shrug. Marie was Marie, and nothing would change her.
Chapter Two
Accelerando
“Anne, darling!” Sophia emerged through the crowd of people gathered in the reception room and rushed towards Anne. She kissed her on the cheek, then rubbed a thumb across her skin to remove some lipstick. “You look so smart, all dressed up like that. Now we just need to get a bit of colour in your cheeks. Like my frock?”
She stepped back and made a slow rotation. Anne watched the lights glint off the delicate sequins along the neckline and the edging of her friend’s pale gold jacket. The sleeves ended just above her elbows; the dress beneath must be sleeveless. It suited Sophia’s slim figure and blond pixie cut perfectly.
“It’s lovely, but you always look like you’ve stepped out of a magazine. You must spend half your income on clothing alone.”
Sophia laughed. “Not mine, darling, Jeremy’s. But he likes to see me dress up, and so he doesn’t complain. Here, let’s look at you properly. Show off for me.”
Anne struck an awkward pose. In the mirror along the far wall, she caught a glimpse of herself, pale face and dark hair, the 1950s-style deep teal dress looking not quite right on her frame. It was neither too large nor too small, but just looked… a bit off. “Stand tall, Annie, darling. Shoulders back. You’ve got a lovely figure. Don’t be afraid to show it off. We can’t all have such a curvy shape. Pretend you’re happy to be here. You always hate the spotlight, don’t you? Well, it’s a lovely shade of blue, even if you could use a bit more colour in your cheeks. Shall we find a camera and smile?”
“Oh God, no! Anything but. Where is Jeremy, anyway?”
Sophia grinned. In the reflected image, Anne thought her friend looked younger than she herself, even though Sophia was ten years older. Or, Anne grimaced, she looked ten years older than she ought. She reached up to pinch her cheeks a bit to encourage a flush.
“My darling husband is being the media darling right now. There he is, by that gaggle of reporters. It was quite the coup getting Frederico here. He is such a splash in Europe these days; they can’t get enough of him. And Jeremy convinced him to give it all up to come home. He’s crowing, and who can blame him?”
Now Anne’s chuckle was genuine. “Being the principal conductor of the National Philharmonic is hardly ‘giving it all up.’ He’s only thirty-four, after all. That’s practically a baby in this field. And he’ll still have time to tour the world’s orchestras.”
“Now, now, don’t be lessening Jeremy’s triumph.” Sophia gave another exuberant smile. “The fellow from The Times-Tribune wants to meet you. Maybe do a feature. Wouldn’t that be splendid? I’m so glad you dressed up.”
God, Anne hated these events. She was not the sort to preen before a camera, but wished only to hide away in her studio and speak through her music. Let the notes be her words, the orchestra be her voice. Having to stand there, face-to-face with some eager reporter, trying to remember where she hid her public smile, was akin to torture. But it was a part of the job and, with great reluctance, she allowed Sophia to grab her hand and drag her through the elegant crowd.
