Hawke took two flutes of champagne from a liveried footman and asked where he could find Chief Inspector Congreve.
“He and Lady Mars are in the library, sir,” the man said, “I believe there’s going to be music in a few moments.”
“Yes, sorry. Our plane was late,” Hawke said.
Hawke and Conch made their way through the glittering crowd and saw Ambrose and Diana standing by the far windows overlooking the garden. A small string quartet was tuning up, and the host was beaming at all and sundry, now crowding round the happy couple. Alex caught Ambrose’s eye and and each man raised a glass to the other.
It was too crowded to get any closer to the hosts, so Alex took Conch’s arm and steered her toward a deserted nook, a bay window. Beyond the windows, snow had started falling again. Alex took Conch’s hand as Ambrose moved in front of the seated musicians.
“My dear friends,” Ambrose said, taking the microphone handed him by one of the orchestra, “Diana and I are so glad that you could all be with us tonight. Sorry about the dreadful weather, but isn’t it marvelous?”
There was laughter and much applause.
“I’ve asked our wonderful orchestra to play a very special song for you tonight, by the French composer, Hector Berlioz. It’s my favorite piece and, not surprisingly, it has an intriguing story behind it. A love story, in fact.”
“Our story takes place in Paris in 1832. Berlioz is despondent. He has fallen madly in love with Harriet Smithson, a beautiful English actress playing Ophelia in a local production of Hamlet. Berlioz has sent her dozens of love letters and countless proposals of marriage, but Harriet leaves Paris without responding.
“On the verge of madness, Berlioz composes a symphony inspired by his love for the actress. As it happens, on the night of the premiere, Harriet Smithson has just returned from London to Paris. Berlioz has a friend persuade her to attend. Just as the orchestra is about to play, the composer takes the stage and announces that his new symphony was written as a proposal of marriage. And, that his intended was seated in the first row center. The orchestra then played the Symphonie Fantastique. You will now hear the Berlioz symphony, played by our splendid quartet.” Gentlemen? If you please?
Congreve stepped aside, and the string quartet began to play the beautiful first movement of the symphony, the strings soaring with emotion toward the end. When they finished, everyone in the library fell silent, waiting for Ambrose Congreve to speak.
When he moved in front of the musicians again, his eyes were glistening. Hawke, too, was full of emotion, watching his oldest and dearest friend gathering himself, with some difficulty, to speak.
“Some of you may be curious about Miss Smithson’s response to Hector Berlioz’s symphonic proposal. Well, I am very happy to tell you all that Harriet Smithson said yes.”
The audience clapped loudly.
“I think Monsieur Berlioz was on to something, don’t you all agree?” Ambrose said, his voice breaking and his eyes alight.
The guests exploded. Everyone in the room, especially Alex Hawke, began looking from Ambrose to Diana with faces full of expectant delight.
Ambrose looked at Diana across the small dance floor, saw her eyes shining, and went toward her, moving a little slowly because of his cane.
When he was at last facing her, he reached out and took her hand. Then he bowed his head near hers and they whispered something into each other’s ear.
Ambrose Congreve turned and faced all of his old friends. They were all clapping and cheering loudly now, and Congreve’s face was shining with tears.
“She said…yes!”
