"And Beckham?" Matilda asked.
"He has circulated the program everywhere." Mrs. Albright sat opposite her. "He appears determined that the concert proceed tonight."
Matilda rested one hand on the table. "Then he is afraid."
"You sound very certain."
"People who are certain do not rush."
A knock sounded at the front door. Moments later, the maid entered carrying a long envelope addressed in Beckham's hand. Matilda broke the seal. Inside lay a single manuscript page: her manuscript page. At least, that was what Beckham wanted her to believe.
Across the top, in a brief covering note, he had written that the enclosed copy demonstrated the obvious truth: Matilda's handwriting proved she had served as copyist, nothing more.
She placed the note aside and examined the page. Mrs. Albright waited. "Is it yours?"
"Partly." Matilda leaned closer.
The main passage was unquestionably in her hand; she remembered writing it nearly a year earlier. But one correction had been inserted above the stave in darker ink. The altered note created the same awkward technical error that later appeared in Hester's printed edition. Matilda's original draft had not contained it; someone had changed the page after she wrote it.
She felt a slow, steady calm replace fear. "He has made a mistake."
Mrs. Albright looked up. "What kind?"
Matilda pointed to the correction. "This is not my ink."
"Can that be proved?"
"Perhaps not by ink alone, but this correction creates the exact error Mr. Ellison questioned at the preview. My earlier rehearsal part does not contain it." She moved quickly to her folder and found the older copy. The passage resolved cleanly: no added correction, no technical flaw.
Mrs. Albright looked from one page to the other. "Then why send this to you?"
"Because he thinks the sight of my own handwriting will frighten me." Matilda sat back. "He still believes I am more afraid of accusation than he is of examination."
Another knock came before she could say more. This time, the visitor was Mr. Ellison. He entered the parlor with rain on his coat shoulders and his violin case in one hand. Mrs. Albright remained present, preserving propriety. The musician looked uncomfortable, but not uncertain.
"Miss Dracott, I received word that tonight's concert will proceed."
"Yes."
"And that Mrs. Dracott intends to make a statement before the performance."
Matilda's stomach tightened. "I expected something of the kind."