House of Rougeaux(63)
Eleanor warmed her fingers, her wrists, her shoulders, flew through her scales and arpeggios and dove into the Nocturne. If playing this piece at the recital was to be her farewell performance, then she would play it for all she was worth.
* * *
August the 15th arrived and Eleanor passed the day as if in a trance. She did not participate in the nervous chatter, in the murmurs of encouragement amongst her peers. When her turn came she stepped up onto the stage and nodded to Mrs. Jeannette Thurber and the Board, stationed at a long table on the side opposite a baby grand.
Eleanor began to play. Her fingers stretched and ran over the keys. There was no audience, no Board, she was conscious only of the music flowing between herself and the piano. Every note danced in her heart, and she rose and fell together with the melody.
When she finished there was a silence, deep and eternal. She closed her eyes.
And then applause, like ocean waves crashing.
Jeannette Thurber stood clapping, with a white handkerchief clutched in one hand, and then crossed the stage, dabbing at her eyes. She gripped Eleanor by the shoulders.
“How far you’ve come, my dear, and in such a short time,” she said, in a voice only Eleanor could hear. “Players like you are the reason for all my work. You are my reward. It will be an honor to see where you go from here.” She leaned forward and planted a kiss on Eleanor’s cheek.
The next day the newly selected students received their official letters of invitation to the Conservatory. Alma Cole and Sam Higgins were among them. A celebratory gathering was planned for the evening at a nearby restaurant. Eleanor didn’t go. She tucked her official letter into her valise with her other things, left a note for Alma at the Vance, and made her way to Grand Central Station. She didn’t say goodbye.
* * *
Eleanor’s train arrived late in Montreal. It was getting dark, but the street lamps were lit and there were a few last traces of light in the sky. She was tired and had to sit down several times to catch her breath. At last she arrived at her own street. She passed the saddlery shop and stepped up to her front door, where all the windows were dark. Eleanor bit her lip and rapped with the brass knocker, shaking with mortal fear at what might come next. There was nothing at first, then the faint sound of stirrings from upstairs. There was a glow in the foyer, as someone was carrying a candle, then she heard the door unlatch, and Papa’s face appeared.
“Chère,” he whispered, “my Heavens, it’s you. Come in!” He took up her valise and set it inside. Auntie came down the stairs in her nightdress and embraced her. She took Eleanor’s face in her hands and looked at her intently. There was no hiding anything from Auntie. She’d have to come out with it right then and there.
“Come sit down,” Auntie said. They all went into the parlor and Auntie lit one of the lamps. There were more footsteps on the stairs. Melody appeared with sleepy eyes that leapt wide awake when she saw Eleanor, and threw her arms around her. Auntie asked Melody to please warm a mug of milk.
“What have you to say, child?” Auntie said gently.
Eleanor’s voice shook. “I did a terrible thing,” she managed, “and I’m sorry for it, but it’s too late now.”
Papa was alarmed, but kept his voice low. “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Is anyone hurt?”
She couldn’t look at him as she said the awful words, “I believe I’m having a baby.”
Papa stood up and crossed the room. Eleanor was suddenly terrified he would walk out the door, that he would leave and never speak to her again, but he only went to the window. The women waited in silence. Melody returned with the milk and sat silently beside Eleanor on the sofa. Finally, Papa turned and sat back down in the chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and gripped his hands together. He would not press her for any more details than necessary.
“Will the father take responsibility?”
Eleanor shook her head. “I wouldn’t want him to anyway,” she said.
“What about the child? Do you want the child?”
The truth was she did not. All she had now was the truth.
“No,” she said.
Melody put her hands over her face and hunched forward. Eleanor could hear her stifled sobs. They were all quiet a good while, and then Auntie spoke.
“Ross and Mathilde will keep the baby,” she said, as if she had just come from conferring with Eleanor’s older brother and his wife. “He’ll be an orphan and no one will know from where.” She looked at Eleanor. “Child, you will have to go away.” Now Melody’s sobs were audible.
“Now, now,” Papa said, “Josie, please. Nothing needs deciding now.”
But Eleanor had decided already. And what Auntie said was true. This would be the only way for the baby to both stay in the family and avoid the stain of illegitimacy. Ross and Tilly were the most likely choice, if they were indeed willing, as they had only one child, nearly weaning age, while the others in the family either had more or were unmarried. And Eleanor could not go away and then reappear at the same time as the baby.
Eleanor looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry,” she said again. What inadequate words for what she had done, for what would be required to go forward. The child would have to be provided for. If Eleanor went away to live somewhere else that would also cost. And then there were the untruths her whole family would have to support. That in itself was inexcusable.