From Shadows to Starlight

A Walk in the Park

Chapter Twenty-one

“You give your hand to me, then you say hello. I can hardly speak, my heart is beating so. And anyone can tell. You think you know me well. But you don’t know me.”--Cindy Walker and Eddy Arnold

A Walk in the Park

It was strange, riding in that fine carriage alone. Though she was wearing a borrowed dress, and didn’t have a sous to her name, Alana could almost imagine she was a rich young Parisian aristocrat as she watched the beautiful streets pass by through the clear glass windows. The driver had told her that Damien was not able to join her in the ride over due to business matters, but that he would be waiting for her at the house when they arrived.

As she looked out the window, Alana thought of the past day’s events. She had gone to her first choir practice, and it went well. She received a score of compliments from the other men and women, and she was looking forward to learning new songs, though the thought of singing in front of an entire congregation was rather terrifying. When she had told Erik about her fears the night before, he had a piece of advice for her, as he always did when they were talking about music.

He had said, “Never be afraid when you’re singing. Being a singer is more than just hitting all the right notes. In order to be a truly great singer, you have to put your whole heart, your very soul, into your song. Feel the music. Then you’ll become one with it, and you won’t even be able to fear the audience. Let the song take you where you want to be.” Alana wasn’t sure she could even do that, but she just listened quietly as he spoke. He turned to her, eyes shining passionately as he spoke of music, the thing he seemed to love above all else. There was the faintest hint of a smile on his face as he said, “There’s no reason for you to be afraid. True, there is much still for you to learn, but I think that the world has gone on long enough being deprived of your voice, Alana. It truly is special. I promise. They’ll love you, like I…”

Then he’d trailed off, and they began to talk of other things and practice her music, though Alana wondered, and still wondered now, what Erik had almost said. It could have been nothing. But it could have been something, something she longed to hear.

Alana tried to put it out of her mind. She had the whole day before her, just to spend with Damien, and knowing him, it would be a good day. She had asked Erik last night if he would join them, but he had politely declined. That didn’t surprise her in the least.

The ride seemed much longer without Damien in the carriage with her, talking to pass the time. But finally they pulled in front of that glorious house, and a servant came to open the door for her, help her out of the carriage, and lead her into the house. There she was met by the housekeeper; Alana recognized her, the woman with the braided hair who had been there on Sunday. The housekeeper took her to a sitting room.

“The Comte will be joining you very shortly, mademoiselle. He just has some…business dealings to finish first. He told me to give you his apologies for the wait.”

“Oh, it’s quite all right,” Alana said, and the housekeeper left. As she waited, she looked around the room at all the fine things, the gold and silver, the luxurious furniture, and the pictures on the walls. Over the mantel hung a gilt-framed portrait of a man, who, though very stern-looking, could have been Damien’s grandfather. Her eyes traveled across the mantel and the walls, seeing a history in pictures of Damien’s family. It seemed he came from a very long line of powerful aristocrats, all of them the picture of cool formality in the old paintings and newer photographs. Then Alana’s gaze fell upon a frame that was lying face-down on a bookshelf. Curious, she slowly turned it over.

It was another photograph, much more recent than any she’d seen yet, and much different.

There was Damien, standing with his hand on the back of a chair. Though he was dressed in the most formal attire, and the photographs before him had all been of the utmost seriousness, he was standing there, smiling from ear to ear, and looking down at the most adorable little boy Alana had ever seen. He was sitting in the chair, his feet dangling far from the floor. He looked to be about four or five, and he had sweet blond curls in sharp contrast to Damien’s jet-black hair. His big brown eyes sparkled with joy as he smiled back at Damien. He had the most precious smile.