Death and Transfiguration

Chapter 28

"I had something come up," I said. "It's hard to explain, but I...I really needed a day off."

Sylvestre glowered at me again and then said, "So you went on vacation to Orléans without telling anyone."

"How do you know I was in Orléans?"

"My brother-in-law said he saw you at the train station."

"Listen, I've been rather stressed lately, and I felt like I needed to get out of Paris for a while, and..."

"Stop making excuses, Miss Brackenborough," Sylvestre said. He sighed and then added, "You don't know the trouble you've caused us. When you didn't show up, I had to track down all of those strange people you call friends - Mr. Moreau and Miss Valencourt and the like - but none of them knew where you'd gone, and when I got that telegram from Paul...I was worried about you. I didn't know why you'd disappeared so suddenly, or what on Earth you were doing in Orléans of all places. I had to cancel my counterpoint class at the conservatory yesterday, just so I could pick Sophie up from school. You should have been there, Miss Brackenborough."

"You're right," I said. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sylvestre." Just because I couldn't help myself, I added, "I just haven't gotten a day off since I got here, and I made a lot of progress on the symphony on the train home - it's coming along quite well now that I've fixed some of the orchestration..."

Sylvestre had an exasperated look on his face, like he couldn't stand to hear another excuse for what I'd done. Perhaps he didn't believe me, or perhaps he simply didn't care.

"Have you finished the cello sonata yet?" he asked.

"No," I admitted.

"Finish the cello sonata first," Sylvestre said. "Then we'll talk."

I sighed and then said, "I might be available tonight before the Order of the Nightingales meeting starts. Are you sure you can't help me with the symphony then? I certainly have time for a composition lesson."

"I'm not helping you with the symphony until you finish the sonata," Sylvestre said, scowling once again. "Now could you please walk Sophie to school? I'm already late for work."

Sylvestre headed out the door, and I went inside, already feeling frustrated. I had hoped that Sylvestre would be a little bit more sympathetic, considering everything that he'd gone through in the last few days, but nevertheless, here I was, waiting for Sophie to finish getting ready for school.

What broke my heart more than anything was the fact that Sylvestre wouldn't even look at my symphony. After all, I had come to Paris to learn from Johann Bergmann, but I had stayed for Bertrand Sylvestre and the promise of learning how to compose from one of the leading musicians in Paris. I still had aspirations, as foolish as they were, of becoming one of the great composers, and I thought that Sylvestre would help me get there, but now, I wasn't so sure. Perhaps it was nothing more than a childish dream, a great folly I could laugh about a few years from now. Perhaps I was never cut out to be an artist. Perhaps I was a fool for thinking I could ever complete Johann Bergmann's last symphony, or perhaps it was simply something I would have to do on my own, without Sylvestre's help.

I dropped Sophie off at school as Sylvestre asked, but as soon as she was gone, I worked on the symphony. I worked on fleshing out the last movement, scribbling down melodies and harmonies as they passed through my mind. I even finally wrote that vocal solo, the one I'd told Léa that I would add to the symphony, and as I wrote note after note, carefully shaping the highs and lows of each phrase, I thought of the beauty and power of her voice, the way she expressed emotion. All I could think of as I wrote down the melody was how desperately I wanted to hear Léa bring it to life.