The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(32)

As the days shortened and winter set in, Cecil gathered his courage to ask Audrey out to dinner. The more he rehearsed how he was going to do it, the more nervous he became, until his confidence seemed to retreat with the autumn. He felt like a clumsy giant: his hands were too big for his body, his tongue too large for his mouth, his nose too hefty for his face. He had never felt inadequate before but Audrey undermined his self-assurance. There was something about her; a faraway look in her eyes, an ethereal quality about the way she floated when she walked. If he didn’t know better he would have said that she was simply going through the motions out of politeness, but then he considered her nature; less passionate and impulsive than her sister’s. So he consoled himself that she was probably as nervous as he was.

It wasn’t until the end of June, when winter had robbed the bird tree of its leaves and its song, that Cecil finally asked Audrey out.

‘Isn’t it bare this time of the year?’ he said as they strolled through the sleeping orange orchard. Audrey felt a wistfulness wash over her as she walked past the naked cherry tree that had hidden her and her lover on so many sultry summer nights, a silent witness to their illicit love. In spite of its nakedness it still held tender memories within its frozen branches.

‘Yes, isn’t it,’ she replied. ‘But I like the change of seasons. The summer was so hot and humid, it’s a relief to feel the chill of winter and snuggle up in front of the fire.’

‘It is indeed,’ he agreed, rubbing his hands together nervously. ‘It’s not as cold as England though.’

‘Or as wet.’

‘That too,’ he chuckled. Audrey noticed his unease and the strangled tone of voice and wondered what had come over him.

There was an awkward pause as they walked through the gate at the end of the orchard and back into the main garden. The flowerbeds lay dormant under rotting foliage, like a botanical graveyard, thought Audrey, beneath which the spirits of the plants still lived and waited for their springtime reincarnation. Cecil coughed. He saw the house loom up at the end of the lawn and knew he had better get on with his task.

‘Audrey,’ he began. She looked at him and smiled. A smile of encouragement, he thought and bravely plunged in. ‘I would like to ask you out for dinner.’ Her eyes flickered with surprise and her cheeks reddened to the colour of membrillo.

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘I haven’t asked your parents’ permission, I wanted to ask you first,’ he explained. She looked down at her shoes and laughed lightly. How formal and serious he was all of a sudden.

‘That would be very nice, Cecil,’ she replied. ‘How sweet of you to ask.’ He didn’t know whether she understood the gravity of his request, that he was asking her permission to court her.

‘I’ve grown tremendously fond of you over the last few months,’ he persevered, hoping to leave her in no doubt about his intentions. This time a tighter laugh escaped her throat.

‘Well, you and Louis have become part of the family,’ she said, deliberately misunderstanding him. ‘Mummy and Daddy treat you both like sons, almost.’

‘They’re very kind,’ he agreed, watching her fold her arms in front of her chest. He found her bashfulness endearing and felt more confident as a result.

‘Yes, they are,’ she replied, knowing how happy they’d be that he had started to court her formally. She felt out of her depth and walked faster in order to cut the conversation short. She needed to consult Louis and Isla. They’d know what to do.

When they entered the house, Louis noticed the strained expression on Audrey’s face and the proud smile that played about the corners of his brother’s mouth and sensed that something monumental had taken place while he had been sketching Isla. Hastily he indicated with his eyes that she go and talk to her sister somewhere private. Audrey blinked at him with gratitude and left the room in a flurry, leaving Louis shuffling anxiously in his chair, wondering what was afoot.

Finding Henry alone in his study writing letters, Cecil asked, with his usual politeness, whether he might interrupt him for a few minutes. ‘Please,’ Henry replied, gesturing for Cecil to take a seat by the fire. ‘Dismal day, awfully cold,’ said Henry, putting his pen down and turning to give Cecil his full attention.

‘I’d like to ask your permission to court Audrey,’ he said.

Henry chuckled good-naturedly. ‘You don’t need my permission, Cecil. Audrey’s got a mind of her own, it’s her you should be asking.’

‘Oh, I already have, and she has agreed to allow me to invite her out for dinner.’