A melancholic mood swept over the Evans mansion, the servants who knew the late Mr. and Mrs. Evans carried on their night chores with tears in their eyes, while Cynthia's nanny stood with her back pressed against the door of the piano room, she held her embroidered handkerchief in her hand and wept silently.
It was the moonlight sonata, the late Mrs. Evans's favorite piece.
The melody that Cynthia played was close to profound ache than mere notes, she lost herself as she marveled at the memory of her fingers that recalled the notes she rarely played.
Cynthia's memories of her parents were hazy, she recalled the outer lines that defined them. A tall man that used to carry her on his shoulder and called her princess. A woman that smelled lovely and was warm to the touch, her hair was waves that shone golden under the sun. And how they used to laugh in the garden while Cynthia ran and played with the roses and the servants.
The moonlight sonata was something that her mother played almost every evening, and the nanny told Cynthia that Beethoven was her late mother's favorite composer. Cynthia learned the piece and memorized it with a heavy heart as a teenager, but she never played it unless something troubled her to the very core of her soul.
Drops of her tears fell over the black and white piano keys but she ignored them.
***
George's black Porsche was just parking in front of the Evans mansion. He was immediately alerted when he saw a group of the older maids who worked in the mansion gathered around hugging each other. George observed them for one more minute before the old butler came and shooed them away, the maids were too engrossed in the old memories that they did not take notice of Mr. Robinson's car.
The butler stepped forward as George stepped out of the car slowly, realization was all over George's face when he closed the door to his car and listened to the moonlight sonata. He adjusted his glasses and looked at the Butler.
The butler tried to keep a straight face on. But secretly, he was counting the minutes for the trustworthy young heir of the Robinson family to come and comfort the young Ms. Evans. It was how things should have been between both families from the start. and the butler who came from a renowned family of butlers knew that too well.
The young Mr. Robinson and the young Ms. Evans were a perfect match. Things will be fine now that he was finally taking his rightful place next to her.
"Welcome home sir, as you can hear, Ms. Evans is not feeling well,"
George took a breath, "Thank you, Albert. What happened while I was gone?"
"Ms. Evans went out for two hours in the morning but when she came back, her stomach was in a bad shape. She felt better after that. But then a guest came by…" the butler trailed off feeling guilty. Perhaps he should not discuss such matters with Mr. Robinson, perhaps the lady of the house wished to keep that visit to herself.
"What guest," George's voice was ice cold.
"Forgive me, I have spoken too much," the butler said.
George threw a hard glance at the loyal butler and then hurried inside. He appreciated his loyalty, but by choosing Cynthia's side he was pushing George into hiring his own people to work inside of the mansion. He needed trustworthy allies.
The elite world was such a place.
He shook his head to get rid of the dark thought that matched the dark atmosphere he was coming into. The piano room was one of the closest rooms to the main entrance. And the first thing he saw when he approached the room where the music was floating from was Cynthia's nanny.
She gave him an accusatory look as she always did when she saw him. Her face was red and her eyes were puffed out from crying so much.
George had no time to deal with the old woman that hated him so much. He acted as if she was not even standing there, he opened the door and went inside, closing it behind him.
The room was completely dark if it wasn't for the many candelabras with the half-melted candles that were burning like the notes of the sonata played by the love of his life.
The woman he was about to marry, even if she did not want to recognize the earnest feelings he harbored towards her still, needed him.
He wanted to come closer to her but his legs froze.
She was a vision, almost a painting, and her moment was extremely private. Her red dress was a perfect combination with the brown leather of the bench, he saw the motion of her beautiful back and shoulders that the dress left provocatively open. Her hair was pulled up to expose every single muscle working beautifully to produce the lovely sad music that wrapped her.
And with her back around like that, he forgot all about the years that parted them. It was as if she never married that as*hole, as if she was not pregnant with another man's child.
She was just the sad girl that he loved, playing a song because she had a broken heart. And he was back to watching her by the door of this room, knowing that she knew he was here. Knowing that this time when the sonata was over, she would not play it from the start again.
And so he waited until the sonata was done, and when it was, Cynthia turned around to look at him. Her beautiful green eyes were still beautiful when she cried, her face was dignified even in moments of sorrow like this one.
And he knew what was coming next. She would run to his arms.
But that was years and years ago. The broken-hearted Cynthia tonight was in her final few weeks of pregnancy. And so she did not run, she walked until she reached him.
He held her in his arms.
"Crying is bad for both of you," George said. Unable to ignore the baby that was in the middle of their embrace.
She sniffled, "It was a hard day for revenge,"
He caressed her hair with his bandaged hand, "why don't you tell me all about it?"
But Cynthia was alarmed because of the feeling of the rough fabric that touched her hair instead of George's hand. She took a step back until she saw his hand.
"What happened!" Her voice cracked at the end so she cleared her throat.
George's smile stretched widely on his face, his white teeth glinted with the dim light of the candles in the room. She focused on his eyes for the first time and saw that the side of his glasses was broken.
"George! What happened!" She clearly saw that he had a cut on his eyebrow too.
"You go first, tell me what happened and made you this sad. And then I will tell you something that will cheer you up,"