Mary Ann and Miss Mozart by Ann Turnbull

converse and behave in society.”
    “To what end?”
    “To make a good marriage.”
    “Indeed.” Her grandmother scrutinized Mary Ann’s face, as if suspecting her of wanting more. Then she turned to her daughter. “Well, Susan, I have no wish to see my granddaughter disadvantaged by her father’s folly. I shall be pleased to pay for her education at Mrs. Neave’s school for as long as necessary.”
    “Oh!” Mary Ann thought she had never felt so happy. There were smiles and thanks all round, and even as she stammered out her own genuine gratitude she saw how her grandmother relished this moment of power.
    “Let me make clear,” Mrs. Causey said sternly, “that there must be no talk of performing on the stage – nowhere more public than the school concert or a friend’s drawing room. Your singing is intended to be an ornament, Mary Ann, not a calling. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Grandmama,” said Mary Ann.
    All her friends were delighted with Mary Ann’s news. That evening, as they sat and chatted in the dormitory, Mary Ann pulled out the charity concert ticket from its hiding place in the panelling, and gazed at the picture. She still loved Ranelagh, in spite of her last experience. She thought of those singers in their silk gowns and powdered hair, and of Maria Anna Mozart. One day, she thought, I’ll sing there, in the Rotunda. I’ll be on that stage, under those glittering chandeliers, and the applause will be for me.
    “Lights out, girls!” called Mrs. Corelli.
    Mary Ann pushed the ticket back into its place – but this time it slipped right inside, out of reach! She picked at the edge of it with her fingernail, but only succeeded in pushing it further in. She hunted for a hairpin.
    “What’s the matter?” asked Sophia.
    “My Ranelagh ticket. It’s gone into the panelling.”
    Sophia produced tweezers, but it was no good. She had lost it. The ticket was visible, but quite out of reach.
    Like my ambition to sing at the opera, thought Mary Ann. Perhaps one day…but for now she knew she must keep her dreams secret.

Chapter Fifteen

    Many Voices
Dear Sis, wrote George . What excellent news! Fancy the old girl coming up with the money like that! I wonder how long she and Mama will stay friends? She is quite a dragon, I recall (better burn this after reading). Papa must be furious. I wish I’d been at home when Mama told him what she’d done! I suppose by the time he found out, it was too late to prevent it. He never mentioned it to me in his last letter, but it seems he has become involved in another likely venture, so his mind will be on that. Perhaps this time he will make our fortunes, and then Hatty can find another suitor and spurn the odious Mr. Browne.
What is this escapade of yours that you hint at? Is it really so dreadful that you can only whisper the details to me when next we meet? Surely not?
Alas, dear Sis, much as I’d love to hear you sing, I shall be in the midst of examinations on that date. Greek and Latin call. Be good – and remember me to Grandmama.
Your loving brother,
George
Dear George, wrote Mary Ann . Really you should not be so rude about Grandmama. I believe that at heart she is kind, and probably also rather lonely. As she lives nearby, in Kensington, she has promised to call occasionally on a Saturday and take me out. I shall introduce her to the Bun House; and she says she may take me to see the royal tombs in Westminster Abbey.
Harriet writes with good news. Her friend Elizabeth Dunn is travelling with an aunt to Paris, where they will stay for six weeks, and Harriet is invited to go with them! She is hugely excited and glad to be away from all the gossip about her and Mr. Browne. She says she would not have Mr. Browne now if he were to beg her on bended knee.
I should be jealous of Harriet’s good fortune were I not so happy here. We are busy practising for our concert, and we also go outside often in the fine weather. And, George, you will never guess!