All of this was because of him.
This moment. This incredible opportunity. The fact that she was standing in her idol’s presence, and that she was going to be allowed to learn from Beethoven for the next several months? James had arranged it all.
His lips parted in a smile, not a smile of arrogance, but one of pride and joy. The fact that he had brought her so much pleasure clearly meant more to him than the prestige of being Beethoven’s English patron.
Whisking back her long, crimson silk skirts, she turned to Herr Beethoven. “And now, may we be graced by your performance?” she asked in German.
He inclined his head, continuing in the language that the monarchs of England spoke most naturally. “Of course. I have come all this way from Austria to be here and to play for such a fine group of people. I did not think I would like England. As a matter of fact, I was quite put off by the English in my last attempt to negotiate a visit. But the Duke of Stone is a most wonderful host and I am happy to be staying in London as his guest for the next several months.”
Beethoven smiled a surprisingly warm smile.“But first I must applaud you, Your Grace. You show yourself to be a dedicated student and I could not be more pleased to be standing here with you.” He leaned in toward her. “Now, what would you like to hear?”
She knew it was an astounding question.
Most great masters did not care for what people wished to hear, for they knew that their taste was not as genius as their own.
And so she did exactly what she knew was best and would honor him. “I think that you should play whatever you think fit for me.”
His lips curled in a smile. He inclined his head, then sat down at the pianoforte.
But then he paused and glanced up at her, whispering, “I must confess. Your husband told me that there is one piece that moves you beyond words. And hearing how much it has touched you…could I play anything else?”
She blinked back tears as she realized how thoughtful James had been, to share her admiration for Beethoven and to remember what she had told him so many weeks ago.
She inclined her head and took up her skirts, the golden thread laced through the hem shimmering in the candlelight as she crossed to her husband.
The entire audience seemed to hold their breath as Beethoven’s hands, those beautiful, strong hands, lingered over the keys.
And then the deep, dark seductive notes of the “Moonlight Sonata” filled the air, and no one dared whisper a single word as he hypnotized them all with the power of his music.
Except she could not be hypnotized. Not by anyone, truly, but James.
As her husband stood beside her, he slipped his hand into hers and their fingers entwined.
Her heart swelled, for she knew that he would always be by her side. James was her hero now. And she his.
Any dream that she had, he would make happen for her and for her alone. And she would do the same for him.
Nothing was out of reach now, with his heart entwined with hers.
Epilogue
Ten years later…
The ash trees now stood tall and strong.
Unlike oak, they had grown at a remarkable speed, and now the two trees decorated the landscape, admired by all who saw them.
As she and James walked arm in arm together across the verdant grass, toward the trees that had been planted the day after her brother’s and sister’s wedding, she could not stop the smile tilting her lips.
The sound of children laughing and cheering as they climbed the branches filled the air.
Jack turned to her husband and gazed up at his face. Every year that had passed had held moments fraught with concern.
After all, one could not suddenly feel at ease forever in a single day, or simply because they were loved.
No, each day, each week, each month, each year was taken with care, with understanding that he might see signs that caused him fear, but they had met each one over the years, and had triumphed in the face of doubt.
That, to her, was the miracle.