Topic: Homecoming

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 16:58 EST

Soon after Clara moved into the Gosforth home, arrangements were made for her father's funeral. It was a somber event, as funerals tend to be, but it was a testament to her father's good nature how many people had come to pay their respects and offer their sympathies to the grieving daughter. It was only later that Clara learned an anonymous benefactor had paid for the funeral expenses, and no one seemed to know who this benefactor might be. The Gosforths were as supportive as they could be during her time of grief and in the weeks that followed, except for the eldest son who had made himself scarce shortly after the funeral and had not been seen since.

He was not allowed to be absent for too long, however. Two weeks of no Gabriel, and Meg decided to take matters into her own hands. She was one of a very small number who knew exactly where he was, and while she had given him space for a while, she was not prepared to let him become a hermit for no good reason. So, on a day off close to All Hallow's Eve, she made her way across London to the small property Gabe had bought for himself as a place to compose in peace. She let herself in, securely closing the door behind her, and turned to look at the place, her sunny face unusually stern.

At first glance, nothing seemed amiss. The house appeared spotless, thanks to the maid, though starkly furnished. Gabriel had not bought this house as a permanent residence or even for entertaining. It was merely a place where he could go to work on his music without anything to distract him. The sound coming from further inside the house proved that point, though it wasn't the kind of music the composer was best known for. This music was loud, harsh, dark, and disturbing. It was as if the musician was taking his pain and funneling it into his music, as if to exorcise it from his soul.

Just hearing those harsh melodies was enough to tell Meg what her brother was feeling, but he had held himself alone with those feelings for long enough. Hanging her coat on a hook, she made her way up the stairs toward his music room, deliberately stamping her feet out of time with his playing so that he would know someone was coming.

The music that led her up the stairs was hypnotic in a way, drawing her closer, the notes full of pain and anguish. Those notes weren't coming from the piano-forte, but from some other instrument, the sound very different from that of any other instrument. Anyone with an ear for music would recognize it as coming from an organ. Gabriel had discovered that no other instrument known to man could personify pain such as this one. There was no pause in his playing, as if he either hadn't heard her on the stairs or just didn't care.

"Oh, Gabe ..." Meg paused outside the door, her fingers brushing the painted wood, sympathizing with the pain she could hear reverberating from within. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But this has to stop." And with that, she opened the door, steeling herself to march across the room and still his hands on the keys.

What she saw when she opened that door might give her pause. While the rest of the house was immaculate and mostly empty, this room - the only room he really ever used - was a mess. Half-empty cups and bowls and plates with the remains of whatever he'd only half-eaten littered the room. There was sheet music strewn across tables and lying crumpled on the floor, as if some were worth keeping while others were no mere rubbish. A chair tucked into a corner seemed to be serving as a bed, with a blanket thrown carelessly across it, forgotten. But it was the appearance of the man at the keyboard that was truly alarming. Given that he was supposed to be alone, he had forgone the mask, but it wasn't so much the ruined part of his face that was frightening so much as the haunted look in his eyes. He wore only a shirt and trousers, the shirt open at the front, his hair mussed from too many restless nights in that chair. It was as if something was driving him, haunting him - a demon that wouldn't leave him be until he had exorcised it from his mind.

The mess and smell that surrounded her as she entered gave Meg just a moment of pause, but she was her mother's daughter. She approached her brother, carefully making sure he would see her in his periphery before she came close, bending to cover his hands with her own.

"Enough, Gabe."

Whatever music he'd been playing turned into an explosion of noise as her hands moved to cover his and he slammed his fists against the keyboard. He drew a deep breath, trying hard not to lose his temper - not with her.

"What are you doing here, Meg?" he asked quietly, no anger in his voice, only a sad weariness.

The crash as he slammed his fists down made her wince, but she didn't flinch away. "I've come to bring you home," she told him quietly, crouching beside his seat with his hands in hers. "You don't have to suffer through this loss on your own, Gabe."

He clenched his jaw, as if by doing so would stop him from feeling anything - or at least, would stop her from seeing what it was he was feeling. He didn't realize that by doing so told her more than if he'd just let her see his pain. He said nothing for a long moment. What was he supposed to say, after all" There had been pain and grief when their grandmother had died, but they'd known she was ailing for a long time, and they had weathered it together. This time, it was different for some reason.

"I can't," he murmured quietly.

"Why not?" She wasn't going to let this be. He knew his little sister well enough to know that if she had set her mind to it, he would be coming home today.

He was quiet a long moment, shaking his head as if he couldn't or wouldn't explain, staring at his hands in her smaller ones. "I-I have to finish," he said. That was explanation enough.

"You need to take a break," she answered firmly. "Have a wash, change your clothes, breathe fresher air. Come home, if only for tonight. Mama's worried about you." She studied his face for a moment, deciding not to tell him what else his continued absence had started.

"I can't, Meg. If I leave now ..." He shrugged, worried that if he turned his face back to the light of day and the happier things in life, he'd never finish his composition. "It's-it's a requiem for Charles. Monsieur Peterson," he corrected himself. But if he was honest with himself, it wasn't just the music that was keeping him away.

"You can." It was obvious that he was not hiding himself away just for the sake of the music, which meant she was going to have to tell him what she had only just decided not to. "Clara is threatening to leave, Gabe. She's blaming herself for your absence; she thinks she has caused so much disruption in our home that you cannot bear to go back. You have lost a friend. She has lost a father, the only family she had. Your grief is no more or less important than hers."

He shook his head at something she said. "It's not her fault," he said, his voice harsh with grief and lack of sleep. That much was true. It wasn't her fault at all that he was a coward, but it would be his fault if she left because of him. "All right."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 16:58 EST

Relieved, Meg squeezed his hands gently. "Change your clothes and meet me downstairs," she told him affectionately. "And brush your teeth, because your breath stinks."

His mouth twitched in the hint of a smirk. If there was anyone who could bring a smile to his face, it was Meg. "Point taken," he murmured, frowning a little as he glanced about the room.

She followed his glance. "Just gather up the pages you want to keep and put them safely away," she suggested. "The maid will deal with the rest of it." She reached up, stroking his ruined cheek, unafraid of the face he hid from the rest of the world. "Come home, Gabe. We miss you."

He had his reasons for not wanting to go home - for leaving in the first place - but it wasn't fair to blame her or to blame any of them. It wasn't anyone's fault but his own. Rather than pull away, he turned his cheek into her hand, closing his eyes briefly to savor her touch. There were few who were brave enough to touch him and even fewer he'd let get close enough to try.

"I've missed you, too," he confessed quietly.

"One night a week," Meg suggested. "Until your piece is done. That's all I ask. I worry for you too, you know." She smiled, finally rising to her feet to kiss his temple. "Teeth, clothes. Impatient sister waiting downstairs."

"Yes, mistress," he replied, unable to hide that smile from his face. How could he not smile with a sister like her" "I won't be long," he promised, as he went to gather up the bulk of the papers he had scattered about the room.

"If you are, I'll come right back up here," she agreed, smiling to see him smile before she turned to pick her way back out of the room and head downstairs to collect her coat and wait for him to join her.

He didn't bother to tell her what had kept him away; it seemed she knew him well enough to guess at least most of it. He knew he couldn't stay away forever, and he couldn't allow his friend's daughter to leave because of him. He shuffled out of the room to find some fresh clothes, scowling at the face that looked back at him in the mirror. He knew he needed a bath, but it would have to wait until later. A half hour later, he was descending the stairs looking more or less like his usual self, albeit for the circles under his eyes that betrayed too many sleepless nights.

"Much better." Meg smiled, already holding his coat to help him slip into it, smoothing his lapels absently. "Shall we, then?" She offered him her arm like a gentleman.

"I suppose we shall," he replied, not sounding overly enthused about the prospect but not wanting to disappoint her either. All he had to do was show his face for a few hours and then, he could sequester himself back here again for at least a few days.

At least the boarders were gone by the time they reached the house, their work schedules keeping them out of the way until the late hours. They could hear the sound of the piano in the living room as they approached the house, a popular operatic melody that translated particularly well to the smaller instrument.

Edith was visible as they entered, her arms full of clean dishes, standing in the kitchen door to listen to the musician. She smiled with relief on seeing that Meg had brought Gabriel home, but raised her finger to her lips to keep them from disturbing the quiet. Curious, Meg glanced into the living room, surprised to see Clara sitting at the piano, her fingers moving over the keys with almost tender expertise.

Gabriel furrowed his brows at his mother, before following Meg's gaze into the living room. He wasn't particularly surprised to see the young woman sitting at the piano. One didn't have to see in order to play. He could play with his eyes closed, though he was impressed to realize she must be playing from memory as she was unable to read music. He turned a questioning look at his mother, but said nothing.

The reason for Edith's insistence on silence became clear just a few bars later, when Clara began to sing. Her voice was not trained, it was plain to hear, but there was a sweet clarity and richness to the tone that made the soaring notes seem effortless. Meg's eyes widened, her mouth almost falling open at the sound.

Gabriel cocked his head, as if by doing so, he might be able to hear her better. He closed his eyes a moment so that he could focus just on the sound of her voice without being distracted. There was something there, he thought - something special, but he had to hear more to know for sure.

It was not a challenging piece of music for a soprano voice to sing, to be sure, her interpretation more lyrical than true to the composer's original vision. But there was a joy in her voice that was difficult to dismiss, a true love of music and the ability to express herself through it in a way society allowed her to. Edith gestured to her children to join her, setting her armful of dishes down on the counter beside the door.

"I haven't heard her sing for years," she whispered.

Gabriel had an ear not only for music, but for talent, and there was something he heard in Clara's voice that gave him pause. "She has a pure quality to her voice," he whispered back. It wasn't a bad thing necessarily. Her voice was untrained, yes, but she had not developed any bad habits either.

"As far as I know, she has never taken any tuition for her voice," Edith told him, keeping her voice low to avoid disturbing the young woman at the piano. "She never thought it was worth taking." She looked up at her son, reaching out to embrace him and kiss his cheek. "Welcome home, darling."

He might have had something else to say about the young woman's voice if his mother had not distracted him, but it was a welcome distraction which even made him smile a little.

"Someone told me I've been missed," he said, eying his sister as he returned his mother's embrace.

"Someone was very correct," Edith replied. "Have you eaten a proper meal in the last few days? Dinner won't be for a few hours, but I'm sure I could put something together for you."

Meg stuck her tongue out at her brother affectionately. Gabriel grinned at his sister's response to his teasing, before shrugging at his mother's question.

"I've eaten some," he said, though that hardly answered the question. Meg could attest to the half-empty plates and bowls that had littered his music room, proof that he'd been too consumed with his work to eat properly, but he said nothing of it. His mother knew well of his bad habits when he was working.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 16:58 EST

"Hmm." The look Edith gave him was loving but knowing. "Well, I expect you to eat heartily at dinner, then," she conceded, stroking his hair back from his face. "It is good to see you."

In the parlor, the voice trailed off, the accompanying strains of the end of the aria filling the silence for a moment before they, too, faded.

He returned that loving look with a frown. He didn't want to disappoint her or lie to her either, but she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"I can't stay," he warned. "I'm working on something." She knew him well enough to know what that meant, too. He wouldn't really, truly rest until whatever it was that was in his head was out. He turned as the room fell silent to glance at the young woman at the piano. He had only met her a handful of times, and those meetings had always been brief with few words exchanged between them.

"I know, but you will stay and have dinner with us," Edith told him sternly. "You can get back to your writing after that." He knew her well enough to know that this was not up for negotiation. Perhaps the women in his family were hoping that their newest family member could entice him out of his own head for a little while.

At the piano, Clara was smiling to herself, fingers picking out a delicate tune on the keys that was instantly recognisable to the composer - it was one of his own pieces, written for grand showing of the first great organ her father had constructed here in London just a few years before. She could only have heard it once or twice, and yet there she was, playing it as though she knew it by heart.

He arched a brow, recognizing the tune as one of his own. No matter how much music he composed, he knew each song as if it was the only one he'd ever written. Why had she chose to play that one" Was it because of her father or because she knew the composer was listening"

As she played, she started to hum an unexpected harmony that could almost have been a counter melody - something he had not written for the piece, but that she seemed to have created on her own, perhaps for her own enjoyment. Behind him, Meg nudged her mother, grinning as she nodded at Gabriel. She hadn't seen him stop still and listen to anyone playing in the house before.

There was no denying she had talent, even if she couldn't see to read music. Why had he not seen it before" But then, he'd never heard her play before - or sing. There was something about her voice, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He considered interrupting her playing, but decided that would be rude, so instead, he merely stood there watching and listening, lost in his own thoughts.

Abruptly, she stopped playing, her smile fading into a faint frown, and she half turned on the stool toward the kitchen, unseeing eyes lifting in that direction.

"I'm so sorry, Edith, do you need me to help you?"

Edith rolled her eyes. "Not at all, Clara," she called back reassuringly. "It's a pleasure to hear you play and sing."

"Please, continue. We were just ....enjoying the music," Gabriel was quick to interject. Those were the most words he'd ever said to her in all the years he'd known of her existence.

Clara looked startled to hear his voice. "Oh! Mr. Gosforth, I did not realize you were here," she offered apologetically. But he had asked her to continue. "Is there anything you would like to hear?"

"Yes, actually ....I'd like to hear you sing again, if you don't mind," he said, taking some interest in her talent, it seemed. He stepped closer, but was careful to keep a polite distance.

"Oh." Again, she seemed a little taken aback by the request, but offered a shy smile as she turned back to the piano. It took a moment, but her fingers began to move over the keys in the opening to another aria, her voice soon following.

He became so focused on her voice that it was almost as if his mother and sister weren't there. He stood as still as stone, carefully listening, before he held up a finger she couldn't see.

"Wait," he said. "Can you repeat that last measure?" he asked. "See if you can take it one octave higher."

Clara paused, surprised to be asked, running back through the melody in her mind. "From the top of the stanza?" she queried briefly, though it was more to state where she would take it from again. She drew in a deep breath, and even though she was seated, her voice soared to the higher notes without cracking or losing strength. If she were standing, she might even be able to put more support under higher notes.

"Good," he murmured, more to himself than to her. Very good, actually. "And you have never taken lessons?" he asked curiously, though he knew the answer to that already.

"Not for my voice, sir," she said quietly, folding her hands on her lap. "Papa did not like to hear me sing. My mother was a singer, I am told."

"Because you reminded him of her," Gabriel presumed aloud, frowning again, though she could not see it. "That is a shame. You have a lovely voice, mademoiselle," he said, choosing the French form of address, for some reason. She wasn't English, after all.

Again, there was that shy smile, though she could not meet his gaze for obvious reasons. "Thank you, maestro," she murmured. "I am glad you have returned. I am sorry for causing so much disruption to your home."

He waved a dismissive hand that she could not see. "You have not caused any disruption," he assured her. He knew he was the one guilty of that, but didn't go so far as to say so. He trailed off a moment, as if he was unsure what else to say. He wasn't very good at the social graces, especially where women were concerned. "I am sorry about your father. He was a good friend."

"He liked you very much, Mr. Gosforth," she offered quietly. "Whenever we came to London, he would always talk about meeting with you as soon as he could. He had a great admiration for your talent, and for your mind."

"He was a good man," Gabriel replied, frowning sadly. A man who refused to hear his own daughter sing, however. He supposed everyone had their flaws. "I hope you won't mind, but I've been working on a requiem in his honor," he confessed.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 16:59 EST

This seemed to perk her up, bringing that small smile back to her face. "Oh, I should very much like to hear that, Mr. Gosforth," she admitted. "I have not heard much of your music, but what I have heard has moved me. Your prowess with melody is well earned."

"You were playing one of my pieces a moment ago," he pointed out, wondering if she was even aware of that. "You learn by ear," he said. It wasn't a question. "That is unusual and difficult."

"Is it?" she asked, her brows rising in what appeared to be surprise. "I have always been able to do it. I hear a tune once or twice, and I can recreate it on an instrument or with my voice. It takes a little longer to learn libretto."

"I should think it would," he murmured, moving closer. "May I join you?" he asked, stopping at her side. He would come no closer, unless she allowed it. "I would like to play something for you."

"Of course, sir." She hesitated. "Which side do you prefer to sit?" She had clearly braced herself to move along the piano bench, but unless he told her which way, she was unable to make that guess for herself.

"It doesn't matter," he told her, letting her choose which way she'd move. He might have to reach past her to reach the keys, but he'd be careful. He watched her a moment, studying her face, her eyes, as if unsure whether or not she could really see him.

That answer, it seemed, confused her. "Sir, please ....which way should I move?" Her eyes flickered back and forth, the speed of that motion betraying her discomfort. "I cannot see which side you are coming to, and the carpet is thick enough that I cannot hear your feet. Please tell me which way to move."

"A little to the right, please," he told her, hoping she wouldn't go so far to the right that she fell off. He remained standing until he was certain that wouldn't happen and that there was room enough for him to sit without her falling off.

Relieved, she nodded, her hand slipping to the right edge of the bench to measure her own distance and make sure she did not fall off the side as she moved. "Thank you." There was plenty of space for him when she had moved, her black dress tucked close about her legs to make room.

He was careful not to crowd her as he folded himself onto the bench, though it couldn't really be helped. He had never been this close to a woman who was not his mother or sister in a very long time and never without fear of aversion. But this woman - this charming creature with the lovely voice - could not see his deformity, hence she had no idea she was sitting so close to a monster. He glanced her way a moment, lifting a hand to see if she would react to him as he waved it slowly in front of her.

Her chin lifted a little, but her eyes just flickered from side to side as she smiled faintly. "I can feel that," she said, indulging this little oddness. "I assure you, sir, I have not seen anything since I was a child. I assume you are waving your hand in front of my face to make sure?"

"Um ..." he murmured. Thankfully, she could not see the flush of color creeping up his face. "I'm sorry. I just - I've never met anyone without sight before." Of course, he had met her before, but only briefly, with little exchange of words. "I did not mean to upset you," he said, though she didn't seem very upset.

"We are a rare breed," she said, her tone one of teasing mystery through her smile. "You do not need to apologize, sir. I am not upset. I do understand that it is unnatural to be in the presence of anyone who cannot see as you do."

"It is not unnatural. It is just ....unusual, but I do not mind it. It seems it would make life rather difficult for you, however," he remarked. He turned, his fingers poised above the keys, a small frown on his face before turning to her again. "May I ask how it happened?"

"It is all I have ever known," she told him. "I believe there was some difficulty at my birth, that some damage was done as I was born. I have never felt that I lacked anything material because of it, sir. I assure you, I do my best not to cause trouble for others."

He frowned again. It was as her father had told him, then. The man was not just being over-protective of her. "You should not let it limit you, if you can help it," he said, as if he knew that all too well. It was too bad he couldn't take his own advice. "This is the beginning piece of the requiem," he said, by way of introduction, his fingers poised just above the keys. "I am writing it for the organ, but I believe you will get the idea." He touched his fingers to the keys, skillfully moving them over the keyboard to create a soft, almost sad melody that sounded reminiscent of rainfall.

Though she did not have to, Clara closed her eyes to listen to the piece he was writing, aware of the honor in being allowed to hear an unfinished piece at the composer's own hands. As he played, it brought back memories of her father, his essence captured in music, and she fought to hold back tears, smiling through her grief.

He lost himself to the music for a moment, as if the melody was moving through him. Eyes closed as his fingers glided over the keys, he looked almost peaceful as the music poured out of him. The music he chose to play was soft and sad but lovely in its own way. There was no anger or anguish in the piece he was playing.

Without thinking, Clara laid her hand on the higher keys, adding a delicate trill to his piece, forgetting for a moment that he was the composer. It was terribly bad manners for her to be toying with his music as he played it for her.

He did not stop playing, as she might fear or expect, but continued on, allowing her to play with him, to add to his composition as she saw fit. It was supposed to be a tribute to her father, after all. Who better to hear it first and help improve it"

The small pieces she added were happier in tone, a lighter side note, a nod to her father's joy in life even as the main melody mourned his death. In the kitchen, Edith and Meg were staring at each other in disbelief. Was Gabriel really letting a woman he barely knew adapt one of his unfinished compositions"

He continued to play for some minutes, finding himself relaxing a little as he played. He was surprised to realize he was enjoying having someone who was not only talented but brave enough to add something to his music. He had never before played with anyone outside his little family.

Within the little melody she had added, Clara found herself playing the piece Gabriel himself had written for her father's organs, hesitating for just a moment before relaxing into it. She had not played with someone else for several years. This was ....fun.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 16:59 EST

He continued playing for several minutes, reluctant to break the spell, so to speak, before he finally let the music trail off. "Thank you," he told her. "I enjoyed that."

"As did I," Clara answered softly. "Thank you for allowing me to play with you. I know it is not good manners to simply interject, so thank you for overlooking my failure in courtesy."

"Not at all. I will seriously consider making your additions part of the composition," he told her, just as graceful in his acceptance of her apology as she was in making it.

"That is very kind of you, sir." Her smile was genuine, if a little misdirected - she seemed to be looking past the end of his nose, though her words were clearly for him. "It is a beautiful piece of music already. It expresses my heart."

"It is long and sad and tragic," Gabriel said of the composition. As always, he tended to be more critical of his work than most anyone else. "But there is happiness there, too." He paused, studying her a moment before daring to add, "I suspect you were the brightest light in your father's life."

"It is an expression of grief," she said in her soft way. "But it should also be a celebration of the man he was." His unexpected compliment brought a faint flush to her cheeks, but she shook her head. "I think that honor went to my mother, sir. I can only hope I did not cause him too much pain in life."

"Precisely," he said, as she described the piece perfectly, though she had only heard a small portion of it. "Whenever he spoke of you, he always spoke with affection. I am sure you caused him more joy than pain," he assured her, careful not to touch her, though he was tempted to do so, if only to reassure her further.

"As he spoke of you," she offered, her head turned toward him. "My father did not trust many people to compose for his instruments. That he not only trusted you, but specifically asked for you, tells me that he thought of you as much a friend as a collaborator."

Gabriel furrowed his brows, though she could not see the expression on his face, wondering what else her father had said about him. Had he told her that he wore a mask, and more importantly had he told her why'

"What else did he tell you about me?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and even.

"That you are the most talented composer he had ever met," she answered easily enough. "That you understand each and every instrument you compose for so well that you can make melody and harmony mesh in ways that no other can. And that you are a good man, whom he was very proud to call his friend."

"Is that all he told you?" he asked, pressing her further as gently as he could. He could not keep his face a secret from her forever, but for now, the less she knew of the truth, the better - at least, for him.

"Mr. Gosforth, he would never have told me anything that you told to him in confidence," she assured him, misunderstanding his need to know more. "He described your voice to me - your speaking voice, I don't believe he ever heard you sing. I think he wanted me to be able to recognise you in a room."

A look of confusion came over Gabriel's face for a moment. Why would her father care whether she could pick out his voice in a crowd" He shook the thoughts. Perhaps he was thinking too hard. "Please, my name is Gabriel," he told her in a gentle tone of voice, almost as if he was afraid of scaring her away.

"Gabriel, then." Her smile seemed to relax, as though she, too, had been afraid of making too many missteps. "And you must call me Clara."

"It would be a pleasure, Clara," he said, surprising himself by reaching for her hand and brushing a brief kiss against her knuckles - it was the proper way to greet a lady, such as herself, after all, but he had never in his life done it before and he wasn't sure why he was doing it now.

Her hand was soft in his, her body turning toward his as his lips brushed her knuckles. "Thank you, Gabriel," she said quietly. "It is a pleasure to be able to know you."

She did not seem to react much to that brief courtly greeting, though he could feel a flush of heat creeping up his neck and face. Perhaps it didn't really mean that much, after all. He cleared his throat, feeling suddenly awkward. "I should see if dinner is ready," he told her, wondering where his mother and sister had disappeared to.

"Oh!" Clara had completely forgotten that they were not alone, sitting suddenly straighter as though afraid Edith and Meg might have seen her softer posture with the man of the house. "I should change for dinner, I suppose."

"Can-can you find your way?" he asked, not wanting to insult her by asking if she needed help when she clearly had fended well enough for herself before now.

She hesitated for a moment, but it was better to ask for help than stumble and fall. She had not quite memorized the house yet, and besides, the living room changed daily.

"Could you escort me to the stairs?" she asked him hopefully. "I should be safe to continue from there."

"Of course," he replied, reaching for her arm to help her to her feet, as he did the same. He was unsure just how much help she needed, but was more than willing to do what he could.

"Thank you." She rose, taking his arm after a moment of reaching for him, allowing him to lead her across the room. "I am sorry to put you to the trouble," she said softly, "but I do not think I shall ever memorize this room. It changes every day."

"Does it?" he asked, never having noticed that before, but then he'd never had to worry about navigating the house without his sight.

"With people in and out of the room near constantly, the furniture moves about," she explained. "I can navigate, but it is slow and awkward, and it makes other people uncomfortable."

He almost bristled at her statement, but not because he was annoyed with her, so much as with other people. "I will ask Mama to make the others aware of it. You should not have to worry about these things and you should not worry what makes other people uncomfortable."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 16:59 EST

Her hand gently squeezed his arm. "I am not as able as others," she said, her tone accepting. "It is unreasonable to expect that the world will conform to my needs when I am among the few."

"What is unreasonable is that other people - those who are well and able - cannot be more considerate of those who are less fortunate than themselves," he argued, gently but firmly, as he led her slowly toward the stairs.

She smiled. "You sound like Father." Her hand squeezed his arm once again, her posture straightening as they left the carpet and stepped onto the polished wood of the hallway. "Thank you, Gabriel."

He mirrored her smile, glad she had taken no offense at what he'd said and relieved he was only repeating what her father had already told her.

"I will take that as a compliment," he told her, escorting her carefully across the wood floor to the bottom of the stairs. "Are you sure you will be all right from here?" he asked, glancing up at the stairs doubtfully.

Her smile widened at the note of concern in his voice. "Would you like to follow me and make certain?" she offered, already laying her hand on the banister and lifting her skirt to begin walking upward.

"I would never forgive myself were you to fall," he reasoned, though he was not going to be able to be there to help her up and down the stairs every day and every night.

"Then you may follow, Gabriel," she assured him, continuing on up the stairs. "I should not like you to worry overmuch for my safety." And it seemed that she was confident to walk up the stairs, the number and steepness memorized already.

"I do not so much mind worrying," he told her, a hint of amusement in his voice. He was careful to keep a polite distance between them, close enough to catch her if she stumbled, but far enough away to give her space. He knew it was almost scandalous to follow a lady up the stairs to her room, but his intentions were honorable.

"It must be a family trait," she teased, each step she took measured and careful. She had fallen enough times to know that taking her time was far better than rushing. As they reached the upper floor, she paused, seeming to be thinking, and turned to walk along the hallway toward what had once been his grandmother's room.

He paused at the top of the stairs, unsure if he should wait for her to help her back down or wait downstairs. "I'll just, uh ..." he murmured, uncertainly.

She paused outside the room, casting her smile back along the corridor as she heard him hesitate. Her ears were obviously sharper than she let on. "I will be down in a few minutes," she promised. "You need not wait. But thank you."

"Very well. I'll be downstairs then," he said, pausing a moment longer until she was safely inside the room before turning to make his way back down the stairs.

He found Meg at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the banister and grinning up at him cheerfully. "You like her, don't you?" she asked her brother blatantly.

"Not a word," he warned, waggling a finger at his sister, knowing she was bound to tease him. He could feel his face flushing and hoped she hadn't noticed. He was too old to act like a lovesick boy.

"Oh, I heard several words," Meg said, not at all cowed by the warning. "And I saw you kiss her hand. You never do that." Her eyes were sparkling as she looked up at her brother. "See" It wasn't so bad to come home for an hour or so, was it?"

"I was just being polite," Gabriel said with a shrug of his shoulders as he pushed past his sister to make his way back to the piano-forte. It was easier to avoid her questions if he was busy playing. "I was thinking perhaps I'd stay the night," he said, as he plunked a key or two.

"Oh, really?"

Before Meg could press him further, however, Edith came into the living room.

"Meg, go and change for dinner," she ordered her daughter, looking Gabriel over thoughtfully as the younger woman rolled her eyes and walked away. "You'll do. I'm sure Clara was not offended by you, to have sat so close for so long."

"How long were you listening?" he asked, his fingers idly moving over the keys, playing a random tune. He didn't dare lift his gaze to his mother or his sister, for fear they'd see the way he was blushing.

"Long enough," Edith said gently. "Perhaps I should have pushed Charles to bring her for a visit years ago, hmm?" She smiled at her son, teasing her fingertips through his hair to tidy it a little.

"It hardly seems fair, does it?" he murmured, pausing in his playing to look up at his mother at last, though he didn't explain what it was that wasn't fair.

"Life is not fair, darling," she answered him affectionately. "What we do with the time we are given is what defines us, not the circumstances we find ourselves in."

"How is she to live all on her own?" he asked, lowering his voice in hopes Clara would not overhear him. He knew her father had left her some money, and he knew she was more than welcome to stay with them as long as she wished, but that was hardly a life plan.

"I had hoped to discuss that with you," Edith said quietly. "I was hoping to ask her to make her home here, with us. But I did not expect to lose you for two weeks at her arrival."

"I am here now," he pointed out, as if now was as good a time as any to discuss it. He made no apologies just yet for his absence, assuming she knew him well enough to know what had kept him away for so long.

"And would you object to her becoming a permanent member of our household?" his mother asked him, tilting her head curiously. She rolled her eyes at the sound of feet running down the stairs - Meg was very eager to hear what her brother had to say about Clara, after all.

"Why would I object' Really, Mama ....it is your house to do with as you wish," he told her, not for the first or possibly the last time. "I do have one thing to say about it though," he said, remembering something Clara had told him. "Ah, here comes trouble," he said with a smirk when he heard Meg on the stairs.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 17:00 EST

Meg had certainly changed in a hurry, still pinning back her hair as she skipped into the living room to join them. Edith shook her head indulgently at her daughter, turning her eyes back to Gabriel.

"Darling, you live here too," she pointed out. "Meg and I have talked about it, and we would like her to live with us. But your opinion is needed before I can make that decision."

There was a thoughtful frown on his face as he considered her question. "The stairs are a problem. If she is to live here, we should do everything we can to ensure her safety," he pointed out.

"She's not helpless, Gabe," Meg told him. "She's been navigating the stairs in various places for years now. So long as no one shoves past and pushes her off-balance, I'm sure she'll be fine."

"That's just it," he said, looking to Meg. "There are other boarders. We should make sure they are careful where-where Miss Peterson is concerned," he told them.

"I can speak with them," Edith assured him. "We have had no accidents these past two weeks. Clara is far more familiar with the house now than she was when she arrived."

"I have no objections," Gabriel repeated, feeling a little more relieved now that they'd assured him she was having no problems finding her way around the house.

Edith smiled, but it was Meg who threw her arms around her brother and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Gabe!"

From above came the sound of a door closing, and the soft swish of skirts toward the top of the stairs.

He tossed a confused look at his mother at his sister's exuberant reaction to his agreeing to let Clara stay. He was confused enough as it was that they were asking if he had any objections and now Meg was thanking him, as if it was all up to him.

"There is no need to thank me," he told them both.

"You are the man of the house, you know," his little sister teased. "Imagine the gossip if people thought the women made the decisions in this house!" Edith snorted with laughter, batting at her daughter affectionately. "Never mind," she told them both. "Let me just set the table, and dinner should be ready to serve." Slow, careful footsteps were making their way down the stairs toward them, announcing Clara's imminent arrival.

Gabriel didn't look amused or relieved by his sister's remarks, the frown on his face indecisive. "Should I ....help her?" he whispered, tipping his head toward his sister uncertainly.

"Why don't you go and ask?" Meg suggested with a smile. She knew perfectly well that Clara was more than capable of finding her way to the dining table, but with Gabriel showing an actual interest in a woman, she wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to push him in that direction.

He hesitated, looking more than a little uncertain, perhaps even a little trepidatious, and yet, only a short time earlier, he'd been sitting beside her sharing the piano-forte. He heaved a breath, as if to gather his courage and straightened his jacket, though it hardly mattered what he looked like, before starting toward her.

"May I escort you to the dining room?" he asked, hooking his arm toward her, though again, she had no way of seeing it.

Clara's dinner dress was, again, in mourning black, a color that drained the color from her skin. But she smiled as she heard him speak, her hand reaching out toward him as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "It would be my pleasure, thank you."

"The pleasure is all mine." Though she had managed to find her way around the house without his help for the past two weeks, he felt strangely compelled to offer his help. He waited for her to reach the bottom stair before tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and leading her in the direction of the dining room.

Her fingers curled trustingly into the bend of his elbow, her other hand resting on his sleeve as he drew her along. "It smells good, whatever it is," she commented, at a loss for what she could say to begin a conversation.

"Mama does not scrimp when it comes to dinner," he informed her, with a smile she couldn't see. The sounds his stomach was making gave away the fact that he was in need of a decent meal.

She might not be able to see his smile, but she could hear it in his voice, coloring a little to imagine what it might look like. In the dining room, Meg gestured to the seat where Clara would be eating for Gabriel's ease, moving back into the kitchen to help her mother.

"Edith is very generous," Clara agreed with a smile of her own. "And very accommodating."

"Yes, she is," Gabriel readily agreed, guiding her over to the chair that Meg had indicated. "Let me get your chair," he told her as he untangled her hand from his arm. "She has a weakness for orphans," he confessed, being an orphan of sorts himself.

"Thank you." She was a little at his mercy when it came to sitting down, but it appeared that she had decided to trust him entirely. "It is good to know that someone else will care what happens to me over time."

He guided her into the chair, so that she wouldn't wind up on the floor. "Wine?" he asked, reaching for her glass.

"A little, thank you," she agreed, and this time there was a real, discernible blush on her cheeks, unused to being so much the center of a gentleman's attention. "I do not drink much in the way of alcohol."

"It's good for your circulation," he said, as he filled her glass about halfway. "In moderation, of course," he was quick to add. He reached for her hand to carefully place the glass between her fingers, risking touching her once again.

Unconsciously, she bit her lip at the touch of his hand. "You are very kind, sir," she managed, curling her fingers about the smooth glass.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 17:00 EST

"Not really, but I suppose my mother raised me well," he replied, wondering what was taking his mother and sister so long in the kitchen. He was referring, of course, to the woman who'd raised him, not birthed him, but she might not know there was a difference.

"She certainly rules the house with a firm hand and gentle voice," Clara agreed in amusement, tilting her head toward the kitchen door as it opened to admit Meg, Edith, and Sarah, the house servant, carrying dishes to set on the table.

"I agree with you there," he told her, just before the door swung open to admit the rest of his family. Gabriel moved to hold the door before taking what looked like the heaviest dish and turning to set it on the table.

"Thank you, Sarah," he told the servant. "Will you be joining us this evening?"

"Thank you, sir, but no," Sarah answered, bobbing a curtsy to the man of the house. "I'm to dinner with my mother this evenin'. But thank you kindly for the invitation."

"Of course. Please give my regards to your mother," he told her, a polite smile on his face before turning to help with the rest of the dishes.

"Aye, sir, I will."

Bobbing another curtsy, Sarah slipped back into the kitchen as the rest of the house sat down at the table. Though they were a middle class family, their tastes were simple, often extending to just one course even at dinner time unless there were guests to serve. As such, what was presented was serviceable mutton and potatoes, with boiled greens. Unlike many of the women of their class, Edith outright refused to boil everything until it was mush, resulting in their meals being a good deal more flavorsome than others.

Gabriel made sure everyone's glasses and plates were full before sitting down to his own dinner. He shook a napkin out and spread it across his lap, before picking up a fork. Starving or not, he knew his manners - manners which he apparently did not worry so much about when he was on his own, as evidenced by what Meg had witnessed earlier.

"So, perhaps you could help Mama give music lessons," he suggested, as he cut into his mutton.

Before she began to eat, Clara very carefully investigated her plate with her knife and fork, waiting until she was sure where everything was before raising a laden fork to her mouth. Swallowing, she blinked, wondering who Gabriel was talking to. Thankfully, Edith rescued her.

"Oh, what a wonderful idea," she said. "Clara, you could play when I teach singers."

"Oh, I see." Relieved to have the focus of the conversation made clear, Clara smiled. "I should very much like to help as much as I can."

"You don't have to," Gabriel was quick to point out. "It's just a thought," he said, with a shrug she couldn't see. He didn't want to push too many of his thoughts on her, though he had a few.

"I have never had to make my own living," Clara admitted. "I do not know quite where to start. I have no wish to be a burden on you all, simply for your kindness."

Edith frowned. "You are not a burden on us," she said firmly. "Is she?"

Meg offered up her own agreement through a full mouth, swallowing hastily under her mother's glance. "Not at all," she said, just as firmly. "It is lovely to have you here."

"Well, you are certainly talented. That much is certain," Gabriel said as he cut his mutton into pieces. He didn't bother to repeat what his mother and sister had already said regarding her being a burden. "I wonder though ....What is it you'd like to do with your life?" he asked, wondering if anyone had ever thought to ask her that before.

"I ....I have not given it much thought," Clara admitted ruefully, frowning as she turned her face downward. "I suppose that is very spoiled of me, to have expected to always be looked after."

"That is not what I meant," Gabriel said, as gently as he could. He realized that without her sight, she had to rely on her other senses, and he did not want to convey any sort of annoyance in his voice. "I am only curious if there is something you would like to do with your life, if you had the chance," he tried to clarify.

"If I could do anything, you mean?" she asked, her smile just a little resigned. Such things were unachievable dreams, after all.

Edith and Meg exchanged a glance, letting Gabriel do the talking.

"Yes, anything," he confirmed, as he took a bite of his dinner. It was taking all his self-control to remember his manners and not gorge himself on dinner. "Humor me," he said, with a wave of his fork.

Clara laughed a little at herself. "If I could do anything at all, I would sing on a stage," she confessed shyly. "I would marry and have children. I would have a home of my own and not be a burden to the people around me. All things I cannot have, I am afraid."

Gabriel arched a brow at her reply. "And why do you not think you can have these things?" he asked further, not wanting to press her too hard, but wanting her to understand that nothing was impossible. He was proof of that.

"I cannot venture into an unfamiliar place without risking harm to myself," she pointed out, sighing softly. "I am resigned to my fate, Mr. Gosforth. You need not worry for me."

Edith cast him a warning glance; this did not seem to be a line of conversation he should pursue just yet.

"Yes, but ..." he started, ready to volunteer his help before he caught his mother's look and frowned at her. Why should Clara not be able to pursue her dreams as he was pursuing his" It did not seem fair. He fell silent, sulking as he turned his attention back to his dinner.

Feeling his mood sink, Clara's brows drew into a frown of her own. "I am sorry, I did not mean to speak out of turn," she apologized to the table at large.

Meg, sitting across from them, glanced between the two and rolled her eyes. "You two are like peas in a pod right now," she said with an audible grin. "Just wilted together."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 17:00 EST

Gabriel frowned, unsure what he had said that was so wrong. He did not think she wanted to rely on the generosity of strangers forever, and wouldn't she want to do something with her time" Avoiding his mother's gaze, he dared push his luck just a little farther.

"Would you be willing to take voice lessons?" he asked her.

"I should very much like to," Clara answered. "But what would I do with them?"

"You could sing for us," Edith said, offering up a smaller goal than the one she thought her son was aiming for.

Gabriel had opened his mouth to reply to that question, but his mother beat him to it, for better or worse. Perhaps it was better not to get her hopes up too high, but he thought she stood a good chance of fulfilling her dream, with the right help.

"For starters anyway," he murmured, mostly to himself.

"I could pay for the time, Mr. Gosforth," Clara added, hope filling her expression. "I would not expect anyone to teach me out of charity."

"I appreciate the offer, but I have no need of the money," he assured her. At least, he had no need of her money. He turned his gaze to his mother, remembering when someone else had made the same offer to him. "Let us just say that by doing so, I would be repaying an old debt."

Edith smiled at him, loving warmth lighting her eyes at his words. Beside him, Clara blinked, her brows rising. "Oh, you ....you want to teach me, Mr. Gosforth?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, me," he replied with a smirk she couldn't see. "Who did you think I meant?" he asked, with a hint of teasing in his voice. "Unless you would prefer another tutor."

She blushed, smiling as she ducked her head once again. "You did not specify," she pointed out, mirth warming her voice. "Thank you, sir. I would very much like to take lessons with you."

"Very well," he said, a pleased smile audible in his voice. "It will be a few weeks before I have finished with the requiem. After that, perhaps?" he suggested.

"Of course," she agreed.

"Wonderful!" Meg almost exploded from the other side of the table. "And we have to go to the dressmaker, Clara, and have some prettier dresses made up for you. You're too lovely to be wearing plain black."

Clara blushed, a small shake of her head seeming to dismiss the compliment. "I am in mourning, Meg."

"But you will not be in mourning forever," Gabriel pointed out, with a wink at his sister. He, too, felt the pain of her father's death and understood the demands and expectations of society during her period of mourning, but he secretly agreed with his sister.

"True, you are unknown enough in London, Clara, that you may enter half-mourning sooner rather than later," Edith agreed. "Simply do not tell anyone who asks that your loss is less than a year old, and they should not bother you."

"And anyone who does ask is a nosy busybody who deserves to be left without an answer," Meg added.

"And you are safe here with us," Gabriel added. "We will not be shocked if you wear something other than black," he said, though he wondered whether it even mattered to her, when she could not even see the color of her own clothes. "Meg will spoil you silly, if you let her," he added with a smirk.

"And I always win every argument, so you will be spoiled silly," Meg agreed, and for the first time, Gabriel got to hear Clara laugh at this silliness.

"I think you may find me a match for your wiles, Margaret."

"Not every argument," Gabriel pointed out, though he couldn't think of any off the top of his head that his sister had not won.

"You have never won an argument with me," Meg informed her brother, conveniently forgetting a few that she had conceded over the years. "I have ammunition to hold over your head in case it ever gets close."

Edith chuckled, leaning over to Clara. "You'll get used to this," she warned the younger woman. "They can go on for days when they get started."

"Is that a challenge?" Gabriel asked, eyes bright with amusement. He did not dare ask what it was that she could hold over his head though, not after what she'd witnessed earlier in the day.

"Gabe, you know I never back down from a challenge," Meg countered fondly, grinning with delight that he had been able to relax so much in the company of their newest household member.

"I shall have to think of something we can argue about then," he said, with another smirk at his sister. He had a feeling his mother would have a few things to say to him about the newest member of their household, but for once, he actually looked happy - a lot happier than he had just a few hours ago.

That was all Edith really wanted - to see her children happy and comfortable - and that was what she was seeing right now. The fact that Clara was smiling along with them was simply the icing on the cake.

"Are there any chores that need to be done that I could help with, Edith?" the woman in question asked under the cover of the siblings' banter. "I can dust and clean by touch, but I would not recommend asking me to clean windows."

Gabriel gave his sister a gentle kick under the table and nodded his head to Clara, in case Meg wanted to volunteer any simple chores that the young woman might find it within her ability to complete. He had already suggested she help with music lessons. He was not sure what else she might be capable of.

Biting down on an overdone yelp at her brother's gentle kick, Meg stuck her tongue out at him, but joined the conversation. "Sarah is teaching me how to cook," she offered. "Maybe you could learn with me, and we could cook together!"

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 17:00 EST

It was probably a good thing Clara couldn't see what was going on between the pair of siblings. "Oh, look! Meg had an idea!" Gabriel exclaimed as if this was something that didn't happen often. He couldn't help but tease her, since she would not miss the opportunity to tease him.

"Oh, look, Gabe has ears!" Meg shot back immediately, and to her delight, heard a quieter giggle from Clara beside him. "Ignore the uncouth brute beside you, Clara," she added. "Would you learn to cook with me?"

A little hesitant to join in, nonetheless, Clara smiled as she nodded. "I would like that."

Gabriel smiled, despite his sister's teasing. Meg had always been a happy child and she had grown into a happy, young woman who he was proud to call his sister. He could already see that Meg and Clara were going to become fast friends. It would be good for both of them. "That's a grand idea. Just keep her away from the crumpets," he teased, knowing he was probably going to get a kick of his own under the table for that one.

"That happened once, and I was eight," Meg objected, restraining herself from kicking him back. "You're the one who was supposed to be watching me with the toasting fork!"

"And you're the one who told me you didn't need my help!" Gabriel countered, tit for tat. Despite the teasing, the two siblings were closer than most, even if they didn't share lineage.

"Again, I was eight," was her response, grinning at the back and forth between them. They didn't often go quite this silly with their banter, but it felt good to do it, releasing some of the sad tension in the house.

"There really is no winning an argument with you," Gabriel said, moving to his feet so he could help clear the plates. "There's another word for that." He dropped his voice to a stage whisper, "It's 'spoiled'."

"I prefer spirited," Meg said with a haughty sniff, breaking into laughter as she, too, stood up. "I'll help clean up."

Edith smiled indulgently at her children. "Thank you, darlings. Clara, shall we move to the parlor?"

Clara seemed reluctant to leave the table, though she knew she was of no use at all in the act of clearing the dishes away to be cleaned. Instead, she offered Edith's general direction a small smile. "Of course, Edith."

"Shall I put the kettle on?" Gabriel asked, wondering if anyone wanted tea now that dinner was over and they were retiring to the living room. It seemed he was not afraid to chip in with what other men might view as women's work.

"That would be lovely, darling, thank you," Edith told him, gently guiding Clara up from the table to wrap her arm through the younger woman's. "Do try not to take too long breaking the dishes?"

"We'll try!" he promised, following his sister into the kitchen, where the sound of shrieks and laughter followed. It seemed the pair had only moved the teasing to the kitchen.

Sarah had left the kitchen ready to wash the dishes and leave them to dry, as well as leaving the tea making equipment out. She knew the Gosforth family well, after all. And despite their relative finery, Meg and Gabriel were used to washing their own dishes together. The laughter did fade after a while, though, as Meg gently nudged her brother.

"Miss Peterson, would you mind awfully if I trained your voice to sing my masterpiece?"

Gabriel smiled, face flushing a little in embarrassment. "I think she might be the one, er, the voice I've been looking for, Meg," he admitted, though it was a little too soon to tell.

"I thought so," she smiled. "I've never seen you so taken with anyone before, you know. And it wasn't just business, was it?" She tilted her head, eyeing him affectionately.

Gabriel frowned, considering her question a moment, unsure how to answer. "I don't know," he admitted, a little confused by his own feelings. It wasn't like she was a stranger. He'd met her before, but he'd never heard her sing before.

"Well, she likes you," Meg said, letting his side of the equation drop for now. "I've never seen her blush and giggle around a man before today. You've made a very good impression on her."

"Yes, well ....She can't see me, can she?" he pointed out the obvious. He was convinced that if she could see him, she would not have taken to him so easily as she had.

His sister's eyes narrowed a little. "Not everyone is so shortsighted that they cannot see past blemishes," she reminded her brother. "Do Clara the kindness of not courting her if your only reason for doing so is that she cannot see you."

"That's not what I meant," Gabriel said, bristling a little and turning silent. If he could not make his sister understand, then no one would. She was not only his sister, but his best friend and confidante, and yet, it seemed even she had misunderstood.

"Then say it plainly, Gabe," Meg told him. "I love you. I hate to see you pushing everyone away. But Clara is my friend, and if you wish to court her, you should do it because of who she is, not because of what she doesn't see."

He was still frowning, afraid that maybe she was right. Was he attracted Clara for all the wrong reasons and not the right ones" Or was it just too soon to tell" "For one thing, we aren't courting. I only offered to give her lessons." And really, all she needed was a little guidance to find her full potential as a singer. "It just ..." He sighed as he shucked his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "It feels like cheating."

"Why does it feel like cheating?" she asked him, unbuttoning her own cuffs to roll her sleeves up to the elbow and begin washing dishes in the big double sink. "She won't even be out of mourning for a good six to eight months, Gabe. You can't court her officially until after that time. Why not use the time you have, your lessons and her time here, to get to know her" To let her get to know you?"

"It feels like cheating because she can't see me," Gabriel explained. And it seemed no one had warned her what he looked like. Then again, for the first time in his life, he might be able to get to know someone without them judging him first by the mask he wore on his face. "I don't want to take advantage, Meg."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 17:01 EST

"It is no different to the friendship you made with Herr Friedmann via letters two years ago," Meg pointed out. "He never knew you wore a mask, or why, and he did not flinch away from you when you finally met in person."

"It is different, Meg," he argued, and he thought that difference should be obvious. He glanced at the door, as if to make sure the lady in question would not overhear them. "Herr Friedmann was not a beautiful young woman," he whispered back.

"So you do think she's beautiful." Meg's smile softened, once more delighted with her brother's reaction to their new housemate. "It isn't cheating to let her get to know you, Gabe. You can tell her in your own time, in your own way. For the first time, you have control over this situation. Don't push it away just because it is not the way you are accustomed to."

"But what if ..." he started, trailing off, that worried frown on his face again. What if he fell in love with her and she didn't like him' What if she only wanted to be friends" And yet, friendship was more than he could hope for with most women.

His sister's hand covered his in the soapy water. "What if she falls in love with you?" she countered, knowing what he was worrying over. "Mama says that is the risk we take when we open our hearts, remember" There is no reason to think Clara would ever reject you outright. She is just as lovely on the inside as she is on the outside, I promise."

He listened to his sister's advice, taking it to heart as he always did, though he still had his doubts. "Do you think I'm being hypocritical?" he asked uncertainly. After all, Clara was beautiful - at least, in his eyes, whether she could see him or not.

"Perhaps a little?" Meg squeezed his hand, going back to washing the dishes. "You're judging her on what you see presented on the outside, and assuming the worst without knowing her. I understand why, but I won't let you continue doing it."

"Mama once told me that someday someone would love me for who I am," he murmured, more to himself than to his sister, though he knew he was getting too far ahead of himself.

"I don't think she's wrong," Meg said gently. She smiled at him, nudging once again. "But next time you sit that close to her, make sure you've had a bath in the last couple of days first!"

He smiled, hoping he didn't really smell that bad. He had tried to wash up as best he could before coming here. "I was sitting in my usual seat. Is it my fault Mama chose to put her next to me?"

Giggling, his sister set the last of the dishes into the rack to drip dry, reaching for a cloth to dry her hands. "Actually, that one was my fault," she admitted. "Weren't you supposed to be putting on the kettle?"

"As talented as I am, I can only do one thing at a time," he quipped, as he picked up another dish and held up a towel as evidence. He had been drying the dishes in between bits of conversation, though it seemed he was lagging behind.

"Aww, you poor thing," she teased, moving to fill the kettle at the pump. "How long do you think it will be before your requiem is finished?"

He shrugged as he took up another dish to wipe dry. "A few weeks, perhaps." Not as long as it took to write an opera, but it had to be just right. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do with it once it was finished. Would anyone want to buy it or perform it"

"Perhaps, when it is done, you should take it to Monsieur Rigeau at the opera house," she suggested, lighting the stove and setting the kettle atop it to boil. "I doubt he would buy it, but he knows a lot of musicians and performers in London. He might point you in the right direction."

He smiled at the simplicity of her answer. It was too late for the requiem to be performed at the funeral, not to mention the fact that the piece was far too long. "You're a genius, petit," he told his sister, leaning in to smooch her cheek.

She grinned back at him affectionately. "You and I move in the same circles," she reminded him. A thought then occurred to her. "Do you think it would be awful to invite Clara to the opera during the next run" I know she can't watch the ballet, but she does love music."

"I think if we want her to feel like part of the family, we absolutely should invite her to the opera," he said. He did not feel the same about his mother's other boarders, who had a tendency to come and go, but then Clara's circumstances were very different from theirs.

"Wonderful! Then I will make sure she has a proper dress for a good evening out at the opera," Meg said firmly. "And you and Mama can show her off as much as you like."

"But she is still in mourning," he pointed out with a frown. That wouldn't stop her from attending the opera, but she would have to wear black, despite the fact that she was a daughter in mourning, and not a widow.

"She will look beautiful," Meg insisted. "I have enough money of my own to outfit her in a lovely dress, suitable for a grieving daughter."

"You will let me know if you need any money?" he asked. He had become the main provider in their home ever since he'd sold his first opera at the age of seventeen. It seemed hard to believe that was ten years ago already.

"Of course I will," she promised him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "You are far too good to me, you know. I should be paying my own way now I have a well-paid job."

"What would I do with all my money?" he asked, smiling as she kissed his cheek. "Besides, I enjoy spoiling you," he told her. He enjoyed spoiling his mother, too, when she'd let him.

"If I ever get a suitor, he is going to have to work very hard to meet the standards you have set me," Meg said fondly. "And that is a very good thing."

"When you get a suitor, he had better be good to you, or he will answer to me," he told her, emphasizing the "when" rather than the "if". It was only a matter of time, after all. He finished drying the last of the dishes and put them away in the cupboards where they belonged.

"Oh, so it's a when now, is it?" she asked in amusement. "I seem to recall you saying a few years ago that I was not allowed to walk out with any man until I am at least twenty-five."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 17:01 EST

He shrugged, that smirk tugging at his lips again. "You have a few years to go yet," he teased her. He really had no control over such things, but he couldn't help teasing her anyway.

"Four years," she reminded him, setting the teapot and cups down on a tray. "Are you open to renegotiation?" She cast a mischievous look at him.

"I think you will know when you are ready," he told her, honestly for once. Though he loved teasing her, he wanted her to know that he trusted her, too. It was predatory young men he didn't trust so much, especially those who were used to getting what they wanted.

"Well, I was going to say ....what about letting me go courting once you are married?" she said teasingly. Her hopes were obviously high for the prospect of Gabriel and Clara to get along well enough for marriage.

"Married?" he echoed, blinking in surprise. "You are warning me about not courting for the wrong reasons, and you already have me married?" he asked, too shocked to do anything but gape at her.

She giggled, blowing him a kiss. "I do love you, big brother," she said playfully. "You're so easy to tease!"

He blew out a sigh and rolled his eyes, knowing there was no fighting her. "Are you ready, little sister?" he asked, moving over to check that she had everything they needed for tea.

She glanced up as she set the now empty kettle back on the stove. "Ready for anything, Gabe, you know that," she said cheerfully, moving to pick up the tray. "You get the door."

He arched a brow, unsure whether he should insist on carrying the tray. "Are you sure?" he asked, not wanting her to think he thought she couldn't handle it. He thought she could do anything she put her mind to, even if it was something as simple as carrying a heavily-laden tea tray into the other room.

"If you want to carry it, you are more than welcome to," Meg informed him, stepping back with a cheeky grin to gesture him toward the tray of tea things. "Who am I to deny you opportunities to show off your muscles?"

He snorted at her remark, "Hardly. But if you insist, please, don't let me stop you," he said, gesturing with a hand toward the tray. It wasn't about showing off muscles he did or didn't have and that were hidden beneath his clothes anyway; it was about being helpful.

"Oh, you're such a gentleman," she teased, lifting the tray with two hands to turn toward the door. "Go on then." In the parlor, Edith and Clara were talking quietly, pride of place in the chairs by the fireplace.

It was almost as if each were daring the other to take the tray, which was kind of childish in a way, but typical of their relationship. He smirked as she gave in and moved to get the door for her, only realizing belatedly that he'd let her win.

Giggling, Meg slipped out through the door, passing through the dining room to the parlor. "Tea's up!" she declared as she entered, drawing a soft laugh from Clara as Edith sighed affectionately.

"Such ladylike manners, darling," she said in a fond tone.

"She insisted on carrying the tray," Gabriel said, rolling his sleeves back down as he followed his sister. It would never do to leave his sleeves rolled up and his forearms bare in proper company. At least, he'd left his coat off.

"A woman's work is never done," Meg sighed exaggeratedly, setting the tray down with a big smile next to her mother. "But now Mama gets to play, and I get to sit." And with a thump, she planted herself on the floor - somewhere she only ever sat when it was just the family.

Gabriel rolled his eyes at his sister's dramatics. "Just for the record, I offered to take the tray for her," he informed their mother, waiting until his sister was seated before claiming a chair for himself, not far from where his sister had plopped down on the floor. "Such a lady," he murmured, nudging her with the toe of his boot.

"I offered to let you take the tray," Meg pointed out with a low laugh, scooting back to lean against his leg comfortably as Edith began to pour the tea.

"Clara and I were just talking about perhaps visiting the opera sometime," their mother said, winking over at her son. "She has never been."

He arched a brow at his mother's wink, silently asking what it was she was planning. "It would certainly be a shame to never visit the opera," he told her, wondering if Meg and his mother were scheming to match make for him or if they were just being kind.

"I should like to go," Clara offered. "Father never allowed me to go to anything so public. He worried that I might attract attention, or come to harm."

"You will come to no harm, so long as you are with ..." Gabriel paused a moment before continuing, as if changing his thought mid-sentence. "So long as you are with us," he said, replacing the "me" with an "us". "Besides, we have a box at the theater, so no one will bother you." After all, even he had become a regular visitor to the theater, despite his appearance.

"You would be content to escort me?" Clara asked, a little surprised that he would say such a thing so readily.

Meg grinned, nudging her brother's leg encouragingly.

Gabriel nudged his sister back, as if to silently tell her not to pester him. "Of course. Why wouldn't I, er, we be?" he asked, including his family in that equation.

"I would be a little more trouble than others," Clara began, pausing as Edith touched her hand to guide her cup and saucer into her grasp. "Thank you. You may need to remind me to keep my face turned toward the stage, to avoid attracting attention."

He felt a brief flare of anger rise inside him, but it quickly faded. The anger was not, of course, directed at her, but at the ignorant throngs of people who feared and hated what they did not understand. "You should not worry about what other people think," he told her. It was something that had taken all of his twenty-seven years to understand.

"No, she has a good point, Gabriel," Edith pointed out. "There are people who go to the opera to watch the audience, and there is every possibility that Clara might seem to be making eye contact with someone who would then take it into their heads to be offended when she does not make an effort to connect with them during the interval."

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 17:01 EST

"Then we will just have to make sure that doesn't happen," he said, eying his mother, as if to ask what it was she wanted him to do.

"We can protect you from such misunderstandings," Edith assured Clara, rolling her eyes at her son. She was just trying to make it clear that Clara's suggestion of reminding her to keep her face turned toward the stage was a wise one, after all.

Clara smiled gratefully. "If you are sure I would be little trouble, then I hope very much I may join you at the opera someday."

Gabriel frowned at his mother's eye roll. He knew what was going on here, and while he wasn't opposed to getting to know Clara better, he wanted it to happen on its own, if it happened at all. "Not someday," he said, looking between his mother and Clara. "There's an opera later this week, I believe. I wasn't going to attend, but if you like ..."

The guarded hope on Clara's face was heartbreaking to behold, a true sign that she had been told no too many times to count. She didn't dare say a word, though.

"We're going to the dressmaker's tomorrow," Meg said thoughtfully. "I'm sure she could rush an order for an appropriate gown for the opera. I'm assuming you mean the Friday evening performance, Gabe?"

"Friday, yes," Gabriel confirmed. What day was it' He'd been so busy working on the requiem that he'd lost track of the days. That much was obvious from the look on his face.

"Which gives us a little over four days as of tomorrow," Meg said, roundabout confirming which day of the week it was for him. "We'll go to the dressmaker early, Clara. Is that all right?"

Clara lowered her teacup from her mouth, setting it delicately in the saucer. "It is very generous of you to take me, Meg, thank you. I shall be looking forward to our outing on Friday very much."

"I am looking forward to it, as well," Gabriel said, making polite conversation as he reached over to pour himself a cup of tea. It wasn't one of his operas that was going to be featured that coming Friday, but it was just as well. They'd be able to enjoy their evening without risking being pestered by fans and well-wishers that way. And it would give him a few days to clean himself up and get his head back on straight. "Do you recall what is playing Friday, Meg?" he asked his sister.

"I believe it is La Traviata," his sister answered easily enough. Being one of the performers at the opera house, she had a better idea than most about what was playing and when.

"I have not heard of that one," Clara admitted. "Is it a recent opera?"

"Yes, very recent, in fact," Gabriel confirmed. Though he did not keep track of the various shows being performed at the opera house as well as his sister, he was involved enough in the world of opera to have heard of Verdi's latest composition. "It only debuted this past March in Venice," he added.

"And it is in London so soon?" Clara seemed entranced by the idea of how quickly such culture pieces could move across the world. "Oh, I should so much like to be one of the first to attend such a performance."

"As I understand it, they are still working on some revisions, but the queen personally requested a performance," Gabriel explained, sighing as he looked into his tea cup. "I have lost all track of time, I'm afraid."

Clara's mouth and eyes formed a near perfect set of three "o"s as she absorbed this information. "It ....it's a royal command performance?" she whispered, shocked but unable to deny her excitement.

"That is what I was told," Gabriel replied, though he apparently had been so absorbed in his work that he'd forgotten when that performance was to take place. "Have you heard anything else about it, Meg?"

"The court and members of Parliament were invited to attend," Meg offered. "Your box was left open, in case you wanted to attend as well, but I think you will need to confirm that tomorrow. I'm dancing in the corps, so you won't need to worry about escorting me that evening. I'll get Rodney to walk me home afterward."

"We could wait for you," Gabriel suggested. These forays to and from the opera house weren't an unusual event for the little family, after all.

"It's a command performance," she said reluctantly. "I don't know if the queen will want to meet with the performers. She sometimes does, especially if she brings Prince Albert with her."

"And you don't want to keep us waiting," Gabriel said, assuming that was his sister's reasoning. He had not yet had the opportunity to meet the royal sovereign, but it came as more of a relief than a disappointment.

"The queen's presence can add over an hour to our after-show time," Meg admitted ruefully. "I do solemnly swear not to walk home alone. I will ask Rodney to walk with me, since he lives a little way down our street himself."

"Very well," Gabriel replied, knowing Rodney well enough to know he'd do his best to keep his sister safe, and the opera house wasn't too far from home. Close proximity to the theater was why he'd chose to buy this house, to begin with.

"Wonderful," Edith said happily. "I myself will also enjoy a trip to the opera. It will give me a chance to wear those new gloves you bought me for my birthday."

"I will hire a cab for the evening," Gabriel volunteered. While it might be a nice evening for a stroll, the weather at this time of year was unpredictable, and he wasn't sure if Clara would want to have to walk that far at night and risk further looks from strangers.

"Spoiling us again," Edith teased him affectionately. But it was obvious from her gaze that she agreed with his unspoken concerns. "Oh, this will be such a lovely evening!"

"As I have said before, you deserve to be spoiled, Mama," Gabriel said, with a warm smile for his mother. There was a very good reason for that; after all, if she had not rescued him from the circus, there was no telling where he might have ended up. He was certain he would not have survived as long as he had without her.

Gabriel Gosforth · Date: 2020-05-16 17:02 EST

"It will be so nice to know you are all out there while I'm on stage," Meg exclaimed cheerfully. "Even if I am only in the chorus for this one."

"We always enjoy watching you perform, petit," Gabriel reminded his sister, almost immediately regretting his choice of words, as evidenced by the frown on his face.

Clara simply smiled, unaware of the winces in the room but able to imagine that the inadvertent phrasing had caused the slight pause. "You need not avoid such words for my sake," she assured them all. "I understand the meaning, and besides, I have never been to any theater. That comment applies only to you and to Edith, Mr. Gosforth."

"Please, call me Gabriel," he insisted, not for the first time. "I assure you, you will enjoy the music, and perhaps-perhaps I can describe for you what is going on," he suggested uncertainly.

"That would be very kind, thank you." She blushed as he told her again to call him by his first name, nodding her head even as she ducked it shyly.

He wasn't sure if she was thanking him for insisting she call him by his first name or for offering to tell her about the opera, but it hardly mattered. "It would be my pleasure," he replied, assuming she had thanked him in answer to the latter offer. "Meg, do you have the music for the ballet?"

"Hmm?" Meg looked up from her tea, smiling. "I do, it should be in the piano seat." She nodded toward the instrument - all their collective music was kept in the seat, to be brought out and played at any moment.

"Would you like to hear it?" Gabriel asked, as he set his tea cup down on a nearby table. Perhaps between him and Meg, they could help her at least imagine what the ballet might sound and look like.

For a moment, Meg looked confused as to why he was asking her that, before remembering their companion. "Clara?" she asked, clarifying the question.

"Oh, me?" Clara bit her lip thoughtfully. "I do like to listen to music," she confessed. "I only wish I could see you dance, Meg."

"Perhaps you could help explain it to her, petit," Gabriel suggested as he got up and moved over to the piano-forte to search through the music to find the right piece.

"I could describe it," Meg agreed. There was a way for her to explain what the different dance positions were for Clara, but she was not about to start assuming those positions to let her friend run her hands over them in front of her own brother.

"Ah, I believe this is it," Gabriel said, sitting down at the piano, and setting the sheets of music in front of him. He had a feeling Meg could help Clara imagine what the dance looked like, but he also had a feeling she wouldn't do so in front of him. For the time being, this was the best they could do.

But it was more than Clara had ever had before. As Gabriel played, Meg described the scene from the perspective of the audience, simplifying the dance terms to paint a picture on a grand scale rather than focus on the details. By the time the piece was done, the blind woman was smiling openly, delighted by the images conjured in her mind by music and voice.

Unfortunately, it was the best they could do for now. Gabriel remained at the piano, even after he was finished playing, debating whether or not to play something else - something new he'd only just started working on before he'd focused his attention on the requiem.

"Of course, it will sound different at the theater with a full orchestra," he remarked.

"I'm sure it will, but the simplicity of melody is highlighted by a single piano," Clara responded, still smiling. "I had no idea so much happened on a stage during a single piece of music!"

"Oh, yes! It is, of course, a story being told on stage through music and dance," he explained, though she likely knew that much already. "Would you like to hear something I've been working on?" he asked, with just a hint of excitement in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes.

"If you wish to share it, I should love to," Clara answered with a bright smile of her own, unaware that her own eyes were sparkling hopefully at the gift offered to them.

"I have been writing this for Meg, but it isn't finished yet," he said, before turning his gaze back to the piano and letting his fingers move over the keys. The music was light and lovely, and one could almost imagine the ballet that might go along with it.

As he played the light piece, Meg's feet and fingers twitched, eager to begin choreographing something to go with her music. Edith smiled at her, nodding toward Clara. The blind woman's eyes were closed, but there was a growing smile on her face as her own fingers moved, following the pattern of the music as it was played as though she were playing it herself.

Gabriel's fingers moved effortlessly and flawlessly over the keys, filling the room with a melody reminiscent of springtime. One could almost imagine the world returning to life after a long, harsh winter. Gabriel closed his eyes as he gave himself over to the music, almost as if it was flowing through him, as if he was the conduit through which the music was conveyed. And he had created this particular piece specifically with his sister in mind.

Edith watched the three younger people in the room, seeing the connection between all of them forged by the music flowing from Gabriel's fingers. Not only Meg, but Clara as well - both young women embracing the music as it was played, itching to be a part of it in some way. It was heartwarming to see.

After a while, he brought the music to a close, not abruptly, but with a series of notes that turned gently quieter, like rain slowly ebbing. Once he was finished, he merely sat there silently, as if he needed a moment to return to that of the living.

"That is beautiful," Clara said softly into the silence, her smile audible in her voice. "You have a wonderful gift, Gabriel, to be able to pour the essence of a person into notes that can be played."

"It's not finished yet, but that's what I have so far," he explained. It was a work in progress, so to speak and wouldn't be finished until he was entirely happy with it.

"It is so exciting, Gabe," Meg declared, launching herself from her seat beside Clara to throw her arms around her brother and kiss his cheek a few too many times for polite company. "If I promise not to pester you too much, will you let me start to choreograph to it?"

Gabriel laughed at his sister's open show of affection, of which he thankfully never grew tired. It really was too easy to make his sister happy. "You, not pester me too much?" he echoed, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "I am not sure that is possible."

She snorted, blowing a raspberry against his temple for that tease. The sound brought a bemused frown of curiosity to Clara's face as her blind eyes opened, apparently not at all sure what it was she had just heard.

"I should spank you for that," Gabriel teased, pulling his sister down beside him on the bench and breaking to a lively rendering of "Daisy Bell", along with the words, just for fun.

As fingers danced on the keys and voices rose in lively song, Edith leaned back in her armchair, smiling once again. Two weeks without Gabriel in the house had been quite long enough. Hopefully now he would stay, no longer concerned with disturbing Clara. And who knew? Perhaps those lessons he had offered might give him more reason to stay close to home. She could only hope.

Topic: Homecoming

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth

Gabriel Gosforth