Valerie caught her breath.
Julian looked so handsome, so impossibly romantic in his tails, his white tie, with his shiny brown hair cascading to his shoulders. His eyes met hers as he made his bow to the audience. His eyes were closed as he addressed his bow to his violin. The first bars of the Mendelssohn E-Minor Concerto sang through the jammed hall as Julian’s bow danced across his instrument, his body swaying to the music. The bow went faster, faster, as Valerie watched it fly, hypnotized. His playing was seamless, soaring, as the concerto came to an end. There was an instant of silence, and then wild applause, cheers, and cries of “Bravo” as Julian made a deep bow to the audience.
If only she could have stayed for the second half, she thought, still dazed by Julian’s playing as she scurried through the crowd that had broken for the intermission. But no. She had to get home.
Promptly at nine o’clock, Valerie’s taxi pulled up in front of the Green Street house. The front door was opened by Janet the moment Valerie tapped on it with the knocker.
“Did you have a nice time, miss?” asked Janet, closing the door behind her and helping her off with her coat.
“Oh, it was wonderful,” Valerie breathed, thinking again how handsome Julian had looked, how rapturously he had played. “He was wonderful.”
“Shall I bring a snack up to your room, miss?” Janet asked. “How about a nice cup of cocoa? It’s a cold night, that’s for sure.”
“That would be wonderful,” Valerie said. Everything was wonderful, she added to herself. Julian, and his masterful performance. The Albert Hall itself. Just being out alone, riding in a taxi.
“I’m happy you had a nice time, miss,” said Janet, moving off in the direction of the kitchen. “A young girl like you, well, you should be able to see your friends. All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl.”
So, she had done it. Valerie smiled to herself as she snuggled in her new robe, sipping the cocoa that Janet had brought her on a silver tray. She had gotten out of the house, heard Julian play, and gotten home with Lady Anne none the wiser.
All of the reviews in the London papers the next day were ecstatic raves. Julian was waiting with the papers at the front door of the conservatory when Valerie arrived. She had already seen the one in the Times, of course.
“We’ve got to go out and celebrate,” he pressed.
She looked up at him, recalling how handsome he had looked on the stage of the Albert Hall the night before. Then she remembered Lady Anne’s icy voice.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said. “There’s a lot going on at home.”
“The next time your aunt goes somewhere without you,” he said. “That’s when we’ll have our celebration.”
“Well, I guess I can let you know,” she said hesitantly.
Julian and Valerie celebrated a few nights later when they went to a film in the West End. Another night, when Lady Anne was at a dinner party, there was only time for a walk on Carnaby Street and a cup of coffee. The next time, Julian picked Valerie up in his father’s Rover a couple of blocks from Lady Anne’s house. He drove to the embankment on the Thames at the foot of the Albert Bridge, which was illuminated against the murky gray evening. A sliver of pale moon hung over the Houses of Parliament across the river as the minute hand on the big round face of Big Ben jerked forward. In the back seat of the car, Valerie, in a panic, realized that it was tolling nine o’clock.
Julian’s body was heavy on top of hers. His hands were everywhere, under her rabbit coat, as he tried to fondle her breasts, her thighs. Valerie, struggling under his weight, averted her tightly closed mouth from his wet kisses.
“Why not, Val?” Julian whispered in her ear. “I love you. You love me. We’ll be married. I’m going to take care of you. Forever.” He was panting, and his breath was hot. The insides of the car windows were steamily opaque. “Nothing will happen,” he pleaded. “You don’t have to worry. I’ve got something with me.”
“I’ve got to get home,” she panted as she pushed his hands away. He was overwhelming her, compelling her to surrender. Oh, I do love you, Julian, I do, she thought to herself. All she wanted was to stop the struggle, feel the thrill of him as he kissed her.
“Touch me, Val,” begged Julian, trying to force her hand onto his penis, swollen in his jeans.
Gathering all of her strength, Valerie shoved him away and sat up, her breath coming fast.
“Don’t you love me, Val?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Oh, yes,” she sighed.
“I love you,” he said, looking at her. “You do know that, don’t you?”
“Please, Julian, I’ve got to get home,” she insisted.
She felt his exasperation as they climbed into the front seat and he started the car, saw the set of his mouth as he drove. “Please, don’t be upset,” she begged.
“Let’s just forget it.”
His words stung as if he had slapped her, and she gazed morosely out of the window of the car. She had never felt so alone as he stopped the car a block away from the house on Green Street. She sat, with her head bowed, while he came around and opened the door for her.
“Julian,” she began, but she was talking to his back as he hurried around to the driver’s seat of the Rover, shoved it into gear and, with squealing tires, drove away.
Janet’s face was white as she opened the front door before Valerie even had a chance to lift the brass knocker.
“Her Ladyship’s just gone up,” said Janet, a worried frown on her face, her voice hushed. “She asked if you were still awake, and I said I didn’t know.”
Valerie looked up at the wide, winding staircase, at the dark wood stairs gleaming with highly polished wax. There was no way in the world, she realized, that she could get to her room without Lady Anne knowing she had just come in.
“Maybe if you took off your shoes, miss,” said Janet, her voice anxious.
Valerie shook her head.
“Do you want me to bring you anything, miss?” asked Janet, nervously wiping her hands on her apron.
“No thanks, Janet,” said Valerie, giving the maid a little pat on one plump shoulder. “If there’s still a light under Her Ladyship’s door, I’ll just say good night to her.”
“I’m sorry, miss,” whispered Janet. “I’ll see you in the morning, then, with your breakfast.”
There was no light under the door, and Lady Anne didn’t call out, but Valerie knew that she had been found out.
By the time she got home from the conservatory the next day, Valerie was practically out of her mind with anxiety. She lay stiffly on her bed, trying to take a nap, but sleep would not come. When she glanced at the little clock on the nightstand and saw that it was nearly five o’clock, she went downstairs.
Lady Anne had already poured herself a cup of tea, Valerie saw when she walked into the drawing room. There was a pretty arrangement of sandwiches and tea cakes on a silver tray. A fire in the fireplace crackled a welcome. The lamps were all on, as usual, and the chandelier was a brilliant blaze of crystal. Through the tall windows came the pale light hinting at lengthening days.
Lady Anne put the magazine she was reading on the table next to her and looked up at Valerie through the reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her face was composed, her