This week I’ve deciced not to use on of my own picture for the writing prompt. This is Eliza Bennet playing the piano with Mr Darcy in the house of his great aunt. It certainly captures the scene which is one of my favorite stories. I love Pride and Prejudice I love the comedy of it and I tried to capture some of that in my work in progress. Do read it and let me know what you think in the comments. But better still leave your own story for us to read too.
He swung his satchel round to his waist and began to rummage around inside it. And then, with a declaration of triumph, pulled out sheets of music and thrust them at me.
“Here,” he said. “Let me hear you play this.”
I took the papers and set them on the stand and focused the lantern upon them. I read the title, God Save The Emperor: Variations, for Organ and Choir as Transcribed by Mr Edmund Chipp.
I adjusted my spectacles and began to play while Mr Purse prowled back and forth gesticulating as if he were conducting a great orchestra. Often he would exclaim, ‘Forte!’ or some other encouragement or instruction. It was a far cry from my sessions with Mr Gavotte.
I am not certain that the music was actually any better than that which Mr Gavotte had asked me to play. Perhaps the reverse. The motif was repetitious and banal, the chord structure simplistic and a little clumsy. But there was an energy and passion to it that masked much of these failings. Certainly Mr Purse’s passion was infectious, and I could not help but feel elated.
Encouraged by Mr Purse, I raised the volume of the organ until it seemed as if the stones of the chapel were ringing like bells. When the last notes echoed to an end, I turned.
“Bravo,” cried Mr Purse. “Bravo.” And he came forward, took both my hands, six fingers and all, and raised me to my feet. “I see Gavotte has been keeping a gem hidden. How like him. Here you are the most accomplished organist I have heard ever, and you are cloistered in this great country pile. My dear, this will not do.”
How uncomfortable I felt to hear these words. I could not help but feel some loyalty to Mr Gavotte, and I was unused to praise of any sort. Even before mother’s illness, she seldom gave me praise, and when she did it was measured and restrained. I could not think how to answer Mr Purse. Not that he expected an answer. Instead he turned and led me out of the chapel.