‘Thank you, Charlotte!’ called Lizzy from her station: ‘Mr Darcy sent for some German lieder by a new young composer, a Mr Schubert – barely more than a boy, I understand – and I should like to choose some that fall within my poor ability and rehearse them for his return. But I fear I rely on the pair of you to carry out my purpose.’

Charlotte sat down at the pianoforte beside Herr Rosenstein, who showed her the songs he had selected, and began to sight-read them. Her role of turning the sheets was much less onerous, and she was able to lose herself in the gentle ripple of the notes he played, and his voice as he sang. Now and again he paused to repeat a phrase with a slightly different emphasis or more confident accompaniment on the keys, and Charlotte shut her eyes to better allow the music to fill her head and heart. This close to him, she became aware of the faint scent of his body, the spice of it, with a tang not unlike that of Dobbin’s coat.

She wondered if their proximity now, along with the cascade of music, might cause him to recollect their maze excursion, of which they had never yet spoken; and as if reading her mind, he wove into the piece he was playing the air from the variations he had performed for her first in the schoolroom, and then in the maze. The phrasing was so slight and subtle, she wondered at first if she was mishearing, but he repeated the brief sequence of notes and, as she turned to look at him, he lifted his eyes from the music to flash a smile at her.

She sat more upright, breathed more deeply. The sensation of stifling fell from her like hands releasing her throat. Perhaps Anne’s account of her nights, if not her days, indicated that there were indeed means of escaping daily routine – that it was possible to suspend the demands of duty rather than abandon them.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE PICNIC CONCERTS, AS LIZZY began calling them, proved so popular with all, especially the children, that they were regularly repeated; a search of the nursery toys turned up a few instruments, including a drum that Laura seized as her own. Herr Rosenstein also gave both girls rudimentary singing lessons, teaching them to clap rhythms and warble breathy tunes.

On one such occasion he spent half an hour teaching them German folk ballads, notably the one about the Lorelei. The children were rapt at the tale of the rock in the River Rhine, the beautiful maiden who sat on it combing her golden hair and singing for her lost love, attracting sailors whose crafts foundered on the rocks and drowned.