But that evening, as Phoebe wrote notices for the printer, she found herself thinking of Mr. Meer's hand resting beside hers on the ledger, steady and ink-stained, and of the way he had defended not merely a ceiling, but the life beneath it.
The first restoration concert was held on a Thursday evening under strict limitations: no more than eighty persons, no use of the ballroom, no gathering beneath the damaged gallery, and no complaining within Phoebe's hearing. The final rule proved most difficult to enforce.Still, by 7:00, the concert chamber glowed with candles. The plaster medallions shone softly overhead, the chairs were arranged in neat rows, and a modest quartet tuned their instruments at the front. On a table near the entrance lay the numbered restoration tickets, each tied with a blue ribbon and stamped with the seal of the Assembly Rooms.Lady Enderby purchased number one with solemn grandeur. Sir Lionel took number two. Mrs. Bell, the milliner, bought number seventeen and announced that she had never been so proud of a ribbon in her life. By the time the music began, Phoebe had sold forty-three tickets and persuaded three reluctant gentlemen that restoration was cheaper than public disgrace.Mr. Meer stood near the back of the chamber, not seated among the company, but observing: the ceiling, the crowd, the doorways, and whenever he thought she did not notice, Phoebe.She noticed. She noticed far too much.She noticed that his evening coat, though plain, fit him well. She noticed that he listened to music with a stillness that suggested feeling kept under firm governance. She noticed that when old Mrs. Creswell dropped her program, he retrieved it with a gentleness that made the old lady blush like a girl.Phoebe scolded herself. She had no time to admire architects.At the interval, she moved among the guests with a tray of subscription cards. Praise came mingled with advice:"Excellent notion, my dear.""Too warm in here.""Will there be dancing by Easter?""The violoncello is too melancholy.""I have always said old buildings are superior.""Can one purchase ticket number eight if one has already purchased number twelve?"Phoebe answered all with patience.Near the door, she found Alderman Voss speaking in low tones to Mr. Grindel, the banker. They fell silent when she approached."Miss Hartwell," Voss said, "how industrious you are.""How kind of you to observe it.""I observe everything.""I had begun to suspect as much."They Were Supposed to Be Arguing Over Plaster and Ledgers — They Ended Up Falling in Love
They Were Supposed to Be Arguing Over Plaster and Ledgers — They Ended Up Falling in Love
Chapter 8
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