The Treasure of Netherstrand

Chapter 12

Faint trills of music floated through the air like the song of a bird in the morning. But Timothy knew it was no bird. It was young Grace singing as her aunt played on the piano.

Tim paused on his way from Hannover's office to the servant's staircase. To him, Grace's voice was more beautiful than anything he had ever heard, and really, it was very nice. But as Timothy stole a secret glance into the sitting room, he saw strange looks on the faces of Gracie's audience.

There were quite a number of people there. In the mornings and evenings, many of the guests resorted to that room for friendly chats and entertainments. That morning, they were all listening to Grace as she learned her music lesson. Some of them were trying to smile as they listened. Others were watching the girl rather skeptically. Her cousins were both mocking her behind her back.

The fact was, Grace's voice wasn't "perfect". She sounded more childlike when she sang than when she spoke. It was a light, sweet tone which quavered just slightly. To many a trained ear, it was torture to hear Amazing Grace sung so imperfectly, But Timothy heard the earnestness which Gracie poured into every word, and it filled him with joy.

Suddenly, Mrs. Carlyle's playing stopped, and Gracie hushed her voice. The girl wrung her hands in fear.

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked. She cast a nervous glance around the room, and the people put on encouraging smiles for her sake. Amelia Carlyle gave a less convincing one.

"Dearest, don't take this wrong," the lady began. "You are in perfect tune. But your singing lacks something. If you wish to entertain your listeners in the future, you must learn to sing with a bit more control and volume. You must open your mouth a little wider and use the full power of your lungs. Do you remember the opera singer, Francene LaFontaine?" Gracie shook her head, looking more nervous by the minute.

"I remember her!" Enna exclaimed.

"She's the one who likes to bellow!" Alfred chortled mischievously. His mother cast him a mildly scolding glance.

"Alfred, 'bellow' is not the proper word for it. Miss LaFontaine is a very talented and well-trained musician! Grace, I would like you to imitate her."

Gracie let out a weary sigh. "I shall try," she said. Her music began again, but this time, it had lost the sweet, earnest sound which Timothy had loved. His heart sank for his friend. Her music had lost its joy. And to him, it had lost half of its loveliness.

The next time Tim passed the sitting room, Grace was seated by the window, searching the driveway outside with her eyes. She was impatiently yearning for her brother to come. She knew that the minute he arrived all of her sorrows would be swept away.

By now, Mrs. Carlyle was teaching Enna to sing, and it looked like they were having a jolly time. Mrs. Carlyle was playing a lively tune, and her small daughter was wheezing out the words of a Scottish air. Tim couldn't help but cringe at the ear-breaking sound. Everyone else seemed humored and delighted by it. When the song came to an end, they all laughed, and clapped, and said "Bravo!" Then, Mrs. Carlyle took the little girl in her arms.

"Well done, my darling!" she praised. "You are a little Francene LaFontaine already!"

Gracie chewed her fingernail in seething jealousy. Her pale cheeks suddenly burned with a warm flush of color. But she didn't say a word, and no one noticed her mood except for Timothy.

Poor Gracie, he thought, slipping away from the door before anyone saw him. I 'ope she gets 'appy soon. Maybe when her brother, Arthur, comes, she'll feel jollier! But, until then, per'aps I can 'elp!