Chapter 1

Chapter One

Henry Alcott’s knuckles were white as he gripped the wooden rail of the balcony in which he sat. His father’s box at the opera house had become a second home to him over the past fortnight.

He felt the need to hold onto the rail tightly for fear that he would float away from a dream. It was a dream watching her.

His father had been given the tickets as a present and he had no desire to sit through hours of singing in another language so instead he’d given Henry his ticket so that he might go with his mother, Emilia.

As soon as the curtain opened on the production of I puritani Henry had been bewitched. He was not sure what was happening or what the characters were singing about, all he knew was that the young woman with the wild, dark, curly hair had captured his eyes. They followed her around the stage constantly as she sang in her beautiful soprano voice. Every person in the King’s Theatre had been entranced by the woman portraying Elvira in Bellini’s beautiful opera. She was the first Englishwoman to perform in I puritani and she sang the language perfectly. Henry, like everyone else, was completely enthralled.

And so he’d purchased tickets to go again and watch her. And then again and again.

She was so beautiful. From where he sat in his elevated balcony he would see her very clearly. Her skin was so pale, like ivory. Her hair was very dark, a complete contrast to her skin. It was not so dark that it was black, but a few shades lighter. It was wildly curly. The tendrils were tight and in their thousands as they cascaded down her back in what looked like a cape or hair. Her eyes, from where he was sitting, appeared to be a dark brown colour and were framed by a thick set of eyelashes. She was very thin in the waist and hips but appeared to be of average height compared to the other members of the cast.

Her name was Ebony Seaver according to the program that sat on the chair of all the paying viewers. Henry thought it an unusual name, it was one he had not heard before. He’d only ever heard it used as a colour. But nonetheless, a unique name was right for her as he’d seen no other like her.

Her voice was the most angelic thing he’d ever heard in his life. He loved it when her arms extended just to give her the extra power to hit the highest note. She was incredible.

The performance ended as Elvira jumped into Arturo’s arms as the lovers were reunited. Henry envied the overweight, Italian man greatly. The King’s Theatre erupted into a wave of applause and Henry joined in. Several people began throwing roses onto the stage as the cast began to bow. Henry produced a red rose from inside his coat. He’d come prepared for the fourth time he’d seen the performance. He stood up in the balcony and tossed the flower down onto the stage. While he aimed for it to land at Ebony’s feet, the thorned rose landed on her head and had become tangled in her curls. Ebony immediately reached to pull it from her hair but she only made it worse. Henry cursed himself for being so clumsy and foolish. Ebony’s dark eyes looked up to see where the rose had come from. Henry was alone in the balcony and the boxes beside him were vacant. It was obvious who had thrown it. Her eyes found him instantly and Henry wished to be invisible. If he had the charms of his elder brother, James, or the confidence of his elder sister, Kitty, he would have offered her a dashing smile and a wink and she would have melted on the spot. As he possessed neither all he could do was appear guilty and offer an apologetic look. Ebony did not look angry, on the contrary, she appeared grateful for the flower. She nodded at him before taking a final bow. She then proceeded to walk off stage with the rest of the cast.

Henry slumped in his seat and began to stew in his humiliation. How was it possible that each one of his siblings were married to wonderful people and at the first attempt of romancing someone he’d managed to tangle a woman’s hair with rose thorns?

Perhaps he was meant for things other than love and family. He’d graduated from Cambridge University a few years earlier and was now a qualified solicitor. Instead of going to work for a practice, his father had given him the position as the Ethridge legal advisor. Henry oversaw the legal aspect of running Ethridge. He drew up and oversaw contracts and rental agreements for the tenants of the businesses and homes Ethridge owned. He enjoyed working closely with his family and he enjoyed the respect he got now that he contributed to his father’s legacy. He was no longer seen as a baby of the family when he worked. He was good at working. He was not good at talking to women.

He needed to leave and go home. Henry left the balcony and descended the staircase quickly, passing through the corralling crowds that were waiting outside the stage door to get a glimpse at the stars. He could wait to see Ebony but he didn’t want to be embarrassed further. Instead he opted for the grand doors that opened up into the cool February evening.

The carriage had waited for him outside the theatre and he gave instructions to the driver to take him home. He was tempted to visit the nearest tavern and drown his sorrows but he wasn’t much of a drinker and he’d seen his brother use the drink to forget and it hadn’t done him any good in the past.

He was being delusional if he ever thought someone as beautiful and famous as Ebony Seaver would take an interest in him. He was not the dashing Alcott brother, far from it. While James had the charm, charisma and handsomeness, Henry had intellect, ineptness and a terrible ability to say the wrong thing. He needed help.

When he walked inside, the lamps had been turned down for the night and the house was quiet. His parents were spending the night with Kitty and William so the only people home were James and Alice, their children, and the sleeping staff. He prayed that James and Alice were only sleeping when he climbed the stairs, heading for their bedchamber. He needed to talk to them and walking in on anything visually scarring was not how he wanted to end his humiliating evening.

He knocked twice on their door before opening it. Both his brother and his wife were groggily sitting up in their four poster bed as Henry walked into the room. Alice turned up her lamp on her beside table and rubbed her eyes.

“Henri?” she asked lethargically.

Henry liked how she always used the French version of names whenever she was introduced to someone.

He sat on the edge of their bed and hung his head. “James, I don’t ask you for much, but I need to know something very important.”

James peered at him curiously and ran his hand through his uncontrollable dark hair that was worsened from bed. “What is it?”

“How did you trick someone like her into falling in love with you?” he asked, pointing to Alice. Even if she looked tired and her fair was unkempt, she still was very beautiful. If he ever had to convince a woman he was worthy of her, then it was James. Alice was born to hate people like James. He had to have done something right.

“Someone like me?” Alice repeated with her eyebrows raised.

“Someone like her?” James asked at the same time. “Did she miraculously become a leper or something?”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I mean how did you convince her to love you?”

“Getting me out of prison ‘ad something to do with it.” Alice chuckled. It was no longer an awkward subject for the family to discuss. They all knew she had been involved in the revolution and they all knew her murder charges were false.

James wrapped his arm around Alice and pulled her in close. Henry watched as she relaxed into his hold. It was effortless between them.

Alice’s time in prison had been a dark period for James. It was also what made them stronger as a couple. They’d battled through everything together and now they deserved to be happy.

“She was bound to fall for me eventually. I just had to be my ever charming self,” James said cockily. “Why do you ask?”

Both Alice and James suddenly gasped and shared a knowing glance. “Who is she?” Alice asked excitedly.

“Have you talked to her?” James asked next.

Henry knew if he’d talked to her there would be no conversation to have. He’d have turned her in the opposite direction. “Of course not,” James scoffed. “And I’m not telling you,” he said to Alice. Knowing his sisters, and Alice was one now, if they knew who Ebony was then they would have paid her an overbearing visit by dawn.

“Is she that girl everyone is talking about?” James asked. “She’s all they talk about at the club.”

Alice looked a little displeased at the mention of a woman.

“Which girl?” Henry asked, praying that she and Ebony were not one and the same.

“Stunning young soprano,” Alice said sarcastically. “Breathtaking.” She sounded as if she were quoting someone.

James’ eyes widened. “I thought you said it was alright if I found other women attractive – which I don’t!”

Henry realised this was a touchy issue for the otherwise perfect couple. “Even I know that is not allowed.” Henry chuckled. He then realised that Alice was talking about Ebony. She was a ‘stunning young soprano’.

“They were your words,” Alice mumbled.

“I don’t! I’ve never even seen her, how could I know?” James insisted indignantly. Henry couldn’t help but find their little tiff amusing. “I was simply repeating what I’d heard. You know I love only you.” He pressed his lips to her temple and Alice appeared to forgive him. Henry knew his brother would never stray. Alice was the only woman he would ever see.

“I know,” Alice sighed.

“You needn’t be insecure,” James promised.

“I’m not. You just don’t seem to notice ‘ow women look at you,” Alice admitted.

Henry knew she was right. Eyes did constantly follow James around when he was at a social function. He had a presence that attracted people, particularly women.

“Is that not a good thing? I don’t notice it because you are the only one I notice,” he said simply. “And it is not like you are without male admirers, Mrs Alcott. My murderous glares have been given to many a man who dared to look upon my wife with desire.”

And just like that, Alice had melted. Any inhibitions she had previously felt were completely gone with those smooth and honest words from James. How could Henry ever pull that off? If ever he had an opportunity to talk to her, he’d most likely start to ramble on about potatoes.

“So this soprano,” Alice said, getting back to the point. “She is your one true love?”

Henry regretted ever getting them involved immediately. “I’m not in love with her,” he said firmly. “I just think she’s pretty.” ‘Beautiful’ was a more appropriate adjective but he didn’t want to get his brother into more trouble.

“So go and introduce yourself. Invite her to tea or something,” James encouraged. “And then get out so we can sleep. It is a virtue once you are a parent, you know.” James flexed his muscles that were obvious through his thin nightshirt.

Henry wasn’t as muscular as his brother but he still had a firm physique. He wasn’t as tall as him either, more like the height of their father. His brown hair was darker than James’ and his eyes were his mother’s chocolate brown, rather than his father’s sapphire blue. He wasn’t ugly per se, he just wasn’t spectacularly handsome.

“I can’t just go and introduce myself. She is famous. There are rules.” Henry was not sure what the rules were but he presumed that there were protocols in place to protect the cast of theatre productions.

“Why don’t you just knock on the door? Someone has to answer it.” Alice suggested.

Henry pondered the idea. He could wait until all had departed from the stage door and present her with a bouquet of flowers. He’d have to memorise talking points so that he did not start rambling about complete nonsense but it was doable.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Good night.” He got up off of James and Alice’s bed and made his way over to the door. Carelessly he shut the door behind him loudly forgetting about the sleeping children next door. Instantaneously one of the girls began to cry.

He heard James groan his name so he quickly scampered down the hallway to his own bedchamber to get some sleep.

The next morning his parents had returned from Kitty and William’s in time for breakfast which meant they also were home to quiz him on why he had spent yet another night at the opera. Even if he had paid for the tickets with his own money nothing escaped his mother.

“And Josie is already writing,” Emilia bragged as she buttered a scone. Henry resisted the urge to let his mother know that he, Sebastian, James and Alice were not her friends in the ton so she did not need to boast about her grandchildren. “She wrote me a letter all by herself and did not spill the ink once. It was so beautiful – addressed to just ‘Grandmamma’.” Emilia liked the fact that to Kitty and William’s children, she was just ‘Grandmamma’ and William’s parents were ‘Grandmamma Kathleen’ and ‘Grandpapa John’. “Of course there were a few grammatical errors but one needn’t worry. We have another genius in the family.”

“I think, and I repeat I think, mama enjoyed herself last night,” James joked as he helped himself to a boiled egg.

“Oh, hush, I’m allowed to be proud,” Emilia scoffed as she tucked into her scone. “Where are my other grandchildren this morning?” she asked, noticing that Jack, Juliette and Madeleine were absent from the dining room.

“Sleeping,” Alice replied. “Someone came in late last night and woke them up.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Indulging in the arts again, were we, Henry?” he teased.

“Again?” Emilia raised her eyebrows. “I enjoyed it when we went the first time, darling, but over and over? It was a nice story and the singers were lovely but one grows tired of opera when it is heard so often.”

Henry shot James a warning glance but his brother so lovingly ignored it. “Henry fancies the young soprano.”

Emilia dropped her scone back onto her plate and Sebastian coughed up the tea he was drinking and spilled it down the front of his shirt.

Henry was a little offended. “Is it so surprising that I might have an interest other than burying my nose in rental contracts?” he demanded to know.

“This is wonderful!” his mother exclaimed. She looked completely elated. “Invite her to dinner, I’d love to meet her!”

“First Henry would have to meet her,” James interjected. Alice slapped his arm and told him to be quiet. Henry offered her a grateful look.

“You haven’t met her?” Sebastian asked.

Henry groaned and slapped his forehead down on his plate. The fresh bread that resided there added some cushioning. “I’m going to papa’s study to work. Please do not disturb me unless something dire is happening – like the house is on fire, or I’ve miraculously grown a new personality.” He rose from the table immediately and then quickly departed the dining room.

Several hours later while Henry was writing a contract for a tenant that had just leased a space in town that Ethridge owned, the study door opened and his mother walked in carefully.

“What?” Henry asked impatiently. He was not in the mood for another embarrassing familial discussion.

“Relax, I’m not going to bother you, I just have a present for you.” She placed a piece of parchment on the desk for him to read. The heading was embossed and below it was a handwritten note.

From the desk of Vernon Shaw.

Emilia,

It was so wonderful to hear from you after all these years and I’d be happy to show your son what it takes to be a producer.

I’ll see him at the theatre this evening at six sharp. Curtain is at half past seven so I will request his absence after that.

Anything for a jewel,

Vernon.

Henry read the note several times over. There was a lot of information to be processed. First – who was this man? Second – why did he think Henry wanted to be a producer? Third – why was she calling his married mother a ‘jewel’?

“Mama?”

“Vernon is an old school friend of mine,” Emilia explained. “We both attended our church school until he went off to produce stage magic and I went on to be … you know.” Emilia did not like to talk about her abusive first marriage. It angered Henry that his mother had been mistreated so. “But I recognised his name on the program from when we went a few weeks ago so I sent a missive to the theatre asking if my budding producer son could go back stage and this is the reply I received. He remembers me and he said ‘yes’.”

“But I am not a budding producer,” Henry said slowly. “I don’t know the first thing about operas.”

“Just play along until you see your lady,” Emilia encouraged. “Vernon will no doubt prattle on about finding talent and securing funds. It’s not that hard.”

Henry saw the sense in her plan. It was a good plan and it would give him an opportunity to see Ebony up close. “Why did Mr Shaw call you a ‘jewel’?” he asked suddenly.

Emilia looked a little embarrassed. “Vernon and I had a little dalliance when we were about fifteen. A few little kisses behind a tree. That was it.”

Henry made a face. “It is bad enough when I see you and papa show affection. I did not need to hear that.”

“Well you asked,” she countered. “Have a good time tonight.”

Henry was outside the theatre and precisely six o’clock. He had another rose in his jacket for Ebony should he see her and not make a food of himself. He’d be sure to place it in her hand and not her hair.

He walked inside the foyer and was surprised to see people flitting about carrying costumes and pieces for the set before disappearing through side doors. The double doors that opened into the stage room were opened and there were actors and backstage people talking loudly and making a fuss. It was easy to tell who was a part of the cast as they were half dressed with their hair in curlers – both men and women.

“Excuse me,” Henry asked timidly to a woman passing him carrying a plain gown but she ignored him and carried on her way. He tried his luck with a man who seemed to be ordering people around. He stood in one of the aisles in the centre of the seats. “Excuse me,” he said firmly.

The man turned around and looked Henry up and down. He was a middle aged man, perhaps in his late forties, and he was not terrible looking. His hair was a light brown colour and his eyes were cool and grey. He looked quite lean in his nicely tailored suit.

“Talk fast, I’m busy,” he snapped.

“My name is Henry Alcott, I’m …” he began but the man cut him off.

“Emilia’s boy,” he finished. “I should have known it was you with those feminine cheek bones,” he chuckled before ordering a young woman with a costume to take it backstage. “I am Vernon Shaw but I’m sure you already knew that. I make the magic around here. In this theatre, I am God.”

Henry’s first thought – conceited. He didn’t like this man and he couldn’t believe that his mother ever had. He did not have feminine cheek bones. “Yes,” he said in a reserved tone. “My mother told me you would help me in my ambition to become a producer.” What did that even mean?

“Anything for that lady. My, when we were young she turned a few heads but I suppose she’s getting on now. Has she let her waistline go?”

Henry’s eyes widened. “My mother is beautiful,” he said through clenched teeth. “And happily married to an Earl. She is a Countess now so I suggest you do not talk of her so casually.”

Vernon nodded with a smile on his face. “Glad to hear it,” he said happily. “Now, let’s go.” He motioned for Henry to follow him. Vernon led him towards a side door in the theatre. Once they were through Henry saw that it was a whole other world back stage. Rooms filled with costumes and props littered the hallway and people were running about frantically. “First thing to producing a brilliant stage production – finding a winner in a story. I puritani came to London a few years ago but I brought it back because women lap up the happy ending rubbish. It is pure gold right there. If you ask for plays, they will come. Operas are harder though. You’ve got to wade through the flops to find the greats. Once you’ve got a script you must then secure funds.” Vernon was using his hands to gesture his points as he led Henry down the long hallways that wound around the theatre. “You’ve got to have charisma, my boy. You’ve got to sell your production as the best they will ever see. So smile,” he said cockily, flashing a confident smile. “And charm. Once you’ve got the funds you need a venue. As I am renowned I have connections so finding a theatre is not hard. It pays to have friends, Henry, I suggest you take note of that. Networking it important in my business.” Vernon led him down the final hallway which backed onto the stage. There were stairs that led up to the stage and the familiar red curtains were open so that the staff could organise the set. “And then finally, you must find your talent. Singers come and go, my boy, believe me, I know. I’ve made many stars over the years and I’ve lost just as many. You’ve got to have the right eye to find the talent you need. You need them to have the right … motivation. I need my star to have the right motivation to work harder and longer than anyone else. My newest star is easily the most motivated young lady I’ve ever seen.” Vernon stopped and knocked on the door twice. “Ebony, it’s me,” he called through the door.

Henry’s breathing stopped as he realised in a matter of moments he would come face to face with the object of his silly infatuation.

Moments later the door opened and before him stood a half dressed Ebony Seaver. She was more beautiful than he’d ever imagined. Her skin was so perfectly pale and her eyes were almost black – he could not see a pupil. Her dark hair was natural, she didn’t need any rags. It was wilder than he’d seen from in the balcony. Each tendril was a tight spiral that looked so incredible to look at. All she wore was a red, sequined corset that showed how truly narrow she was and a thin, white skirt. The corset covered her chest properly but made the bones of her chest appear prominent. She looked almost too thin. How could such a big voice come out of such a small girl? Her black eyes looked to Henry and it was then that he noticed how tired she looked. Bruise like shadows were dark under eyes and she looked sad and deflated.

“What is that?” Vernon snapped, pointing to her lip. Henry noticed a little piece of what looked to be pasty on her lower lip. Ebony quickly wiped it away with her hands.

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“What were you eating?” he demanded to know. “Don’t lie to me. You know I will find out.”

“A sweet pasty,” she admitted.

“Who gave it to you?”

Ebony did not look like she wanted to give anyone up but Vernon did not look like he would tolerate lies. “Ellen.”

“Right,” Vernon growled. “Another thing you shall learn about this business, Henry, fat singers don’t sell tickets.”

Henry’s eyes widened. Was he refusing Ebony food? No wonder she looked so under nourished. Perhaps he would have to use his mother’s relationship with Vernon as a cover to bring Ebony food.

“Excuse me, I have to go and have a discussion with Ellen,” Vernon huffed before disappearing back down the hallways.

Henry stood before Ebony awkwardly, not knowing what to say after Vernon had spoken to her so poisonously. Was she not the star? Should he not be pampering her?

“You were in the balcony last night,” Ebony recalled. “You threw the rose into my hair.” She did not have much emotion in her voice. At least she did not sound angry.

“I’m terribly sorry about that,” he apologised nervously. “I was aiming for the floor.”

“No matter,” she shrugged. “I appreciated the gesture.”

Henry breathed. There was conversation, he hadn’t said anything wrong, at least not yet. Time for the introductions. “I’m Henry Alcott,” Henry introduced himself. “Your performance last night was beautiful. I’ve never really enjoyed opera before but you’ve changed my mind.” It was going well, he just had to remain smooth.

Ebony smiled slightly. “Thank you, Mr Alcott,” she replied quietly. “I’m Ebony, by the way, Ebony Seaver.”

“Ebony is an unusual name,” Henry commented. “But it’s as pretty as your face.” Had he just said that? That was something James would have said in his womanising days.

Ebony smiled a little wider. “Thank you, sir. I’m named Ebony for the colour of my hair,” she said, playing with one of her perfect ringlets self-consciously. “It was ebony when I was born but it’s just plain and brown now.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Henry said instantly without thinking. Ebony’s eyes widened. “It!” he corrected himself. “It, your hair, I think it’s beautiful.”

“Oh,” Ebony said, sounding slightly disheartened. “That’s very kind of you to say. It’s quite impossible, my curls are wild.”

Henry realised that he’d retracted a compliment that she had appreciated. It wasn’t like it was false, she was incredibly beautiful. “You are though,” he said nervously. “Beautiful. You look like fresh snow.” Inside he wished the ground would just swallow him.

Ebony furrowed her eyebrows. “Snow?”

Henry bit his lip. Why didn’t he have the talent of talking to ladies like James did? “It’s my favourite thing in the world,” he replied sheepishly and he was being honest. He loved snow. “Snow is perfect. It’s pure and beautiful ... like you.” That was good, he decided. It was a compliment and she seemed to like it.

Ebony’s dark eyes looked like they were watering. “Nobody has ever said anything to me like that before,” she whispered. “But if you knew me then you would know that I am nothing like fresh snow. If you want my advice, get out now. Vernon doesn’t care about helping you. He has everyone here under his thumb. He takes what he wants from us and there is nothing we can do about it. He makes you think like he cares about you long enough for you to realise there is no way out.”

“What are you talking about? Henry asked. She was trapped, that was obvious, but should she not be bathing in riches? She was the talk of the town after all.

“Goodbye, Mr Alcott. Leave now if you are clever.” Ebony offered him one last smile before disappearing behind her door and closing it.

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Hope you liked the first chapter of the last book!!

Dedicated to Kassilassie for making my amazing cover!!

I puritani is my favourite opera, and the video on the side is the ending :) It's the finale song and it's amazing :) As soon as Anna Netrebko starts singing I get goosebumps! It's got subtitles so you know what's going on :)

Vote and comment!!