(eng) L. E. Modesitt - Ghosts 03 by Ghost of the White Nights

Author:Ghost of the White Nights [Nights, Ghost of the White]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

23

L LYSETTE DID BATHE and change, into a high-necked green velvet dress with a lace collar. Despite her tiredness, she looked stunning as we stepped out into the corridor to make our way to the elevator.

After my own long hot shower, I'd put on a dark gray suit and a maroon cravat that Harlaan would have admired. Terese must have been listening, because she joined us at the elevator. She'd also changed, into a long black dress trimmed in white, with a patterned green and black matching jacket.

“I haven't been this dressed up when I'm not performing in years.” She looked from Llysette to me. “This must be normal for you two.”

I could only shrug. What was normal? I wasn't sure I knew.

No one else was on the elevator we caught, and once on the main floor, we followed the sounds of conversation down the corridor and around the corner into another space, what had probably once been a secondary greeting foyer for the hotel that had preceded the embassy. The ceilings were arched and white, with an off-green trim, very simple, compared to the almost rococo paneling and carving in the wood paneling, and I wondered if the arched ceilings had once held murals or the equivalent.

We stepped through the open double French doors into the lounge, a space that had once been some sort of function room in the hotel the embassy had once been, I gathered, with the rich cherry-wood walls, the carved crown molding, and the built-in glass-paneled sideboards that now held leather-bound books, but once probably had held an array of either crystal or perhaps sample bottles of wine or cognac. I shook my head as I reconsidered. The room had to have been a tea room—the woodwork and the shape of the room were too subtle, and those had not been changed since the embassy had taken over. There were small tables arrayed around the room, each with two or three pale blue leather covered armchairs surrounding it. I could almost imagine how it might have been in the thirties or forties, with women of the Russian aristocracy taking tea or chocolate and conversing politely, while their escorts or husbands had cigars and brandy or wine and whatever in an adjoining bar.

“Our guest of honor,” called out Drummond Kent, moving away from his aides toward us, or toward Llysette. He bowed. “You look ravishing. And you as well, Miss Stewart.”

“Too kind you are.” Llysette offered a warm smile and a half-curtsy.

Terese smiled but did not speak.

“You will not even have to sing to dazzle the audience,” Kent added, “although all of us look forward to the concert.”

Llysette laughed, musically. “My singing is what they wish, not my appearance.”

“They will have both, I am sure.”

I was, too.

“I did have a question.” Kent looked slightly puzzled. “The program lists a Vocalise by Rachmaninov, but I've never seen or heard it performed here.”

“Most times, it is performed by orchestra with strings,” Llysette replied, “but that it is not how he wrote it.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.