‘And you’re asking me what you should do?’
Amanda nodded.
‘You reject Arrowsmith’s offer out of hand. God gave you a beautiful and unusual voice—I will tell you that much. Your teacher has put his heart and soul into seeing that it is properly developed, refined and cared for. It is now your responsibility. If you go selling it to anyone like Arrowsmith, you will be untrue to your art, your teacher and your Maker.’
‘But what about Henry?—what about my brother?’
‘Will he die if he doesn’t have this treatment?’
‘No, not that. But he could be made so much better if——’
‘He’ll find the money somehow. There are always ways,’ replied Warrender with the careless certainty of someone who has never experienced acute money difficulties. ‘A mortgage on that charming hotel or——’
‘No, no, it’s not as simple as that,’ cried Amanda distractedly, with a sudden recollection of Nan and the account books. ‘You see——’
‘No, my dear, I don’t see.’ And at that he stood up with the obvious indication that the interview was at an end. ‘You’ve asked my advice and I’ve given it to you. That’s all I can do.’
She also got to her feet then, but a little unsteadily. She knew she had failed. What had seemed a wonderful idea at first was nothing more than the feeble grasping at a straw as one went down for the third time.
‘I’m sorry—to have troubled you,’ she said mechanically, and made for the door which suddenly seemed a long way off.
But before she could reach it someone else opened it from the outside: an elderly maid who stood in the doorway and addressed Sir Oscar respectfully.
‘Dr Elsworth is here, sir,’ she said. ‘Shall I show him in or ask him to wait in the music-room?’
Chapter Six
Oscar Warrender was not a man to hesitate about his decisions. He said to the maid, ‘Show in Dr Elsworth,’ at precisely the same moment as Amanda breathed a protesting, ‘Oh, no!’
The maid very properly took this to be an independent exclamation on the visitor’s part and nothing so presumptuous as a countermanding of her employer’s order. She withdrew and Warrender said to Amanda, ‘You’d better sit down again.’
‘But I’d rather not see Dr Elsworth. At least—not now.’
‘You haven’t much choice,’ was the reply as the door opened once more and Lewis Elsworth was ushered in. He came towards Warrender with a smile and an outstretched hand. But the smile faded and the hand dropped to his side as he took in the other occupant of the room and, instead of addressing the conductor, he said sharply, ‘Amanda! What are you doing here?’
‘She came to consult me about something,’ explained Sir Oscar in an unusually mild tone of voice. ‘It was purely coincidental that she and you chose the same afternoon. Do you mind if Anthea joins the discussion? I think she would be interested.’ And without waiting for any comment from either Lewis or Amanda—should they have had any to make which seemed doubtful—he went to the door and called, ‘Darling!’
Even then it vaguely surprised Amanda that he should use such a term to anyone. But Anthea Warrender came immediately at his summons, greeted Lewis with a friendly air and then, suddenly noticing Amanda’s presence, said, ‘Hello! What a good idea for you to come too.’
‘We didn’t come together,’ stated Lewis stiffly.
‘No?’ Anthea looked questioning and slightly amused. It was her husband who explained with characteristic brevity, ‘Miss Amanda came to consult me on a professional problem, and Lewis happened to arrive ten minutes early for our appointment.’
‘May I ask what the professional problem was?’ enquired Lewis, still in that stiff way which Amanda found both infuriating and intimidating. But when Warrender glanced enquiringly at her she made a helpless little gesture of assent.
‘Amanda—’ he left out the ‘Miss’ this time—‘has been made a very tempting offer by Max Arrowsmith——’
‘I told her she was to have nothing to do with the man,’ interrupted Lewis furiously. ‘His enterprises are totally outside anything I have—I had—in mind for her.’
Amanda noted the significant change of tense with a sort of chilled dismay, for it implied so clearly that his plans for her no longer existed.
‘Could we know what the tempting offer was?’ Anthea asked with genuine curiosity, and as she addressed Amanda directly, it was Amanda who was forced to reply.
‘He’s promoting some sort of musical drama,’ she said huskily. ‘Jerome Leydon has composed the music—which is good of its kind. They and their—their professional associates want me to sing the leading role. I suppose you might say that I auditioned for them this afternoon.’
‘And what,’ enquired Warrender with interest, ‘did you sing for them at your audition?’
‘I first sang “Hear ye, Israel” and then——’
Until that moment it had never occurred to Amanda that the famous conductor could laugh so heartily. Nor that he could look so extraordinarily attractive as he did so. The clear-cut, austere features relaxed unexpectedly and the uncomfortably penetrating eyes sparkled with delighted amusement. Anthea also laughed after a moment. But Lewis, Amanda noticed, remained completely serious. Even when Warrender said,
‘Good lord, Elsworth, don’t you find it funny that she sang “Hear ye, Israel” to that bunch?’
‘No,’ replied Lewis shortly, ‘I don’t find it funny at all. It’s like someone showing herself off in a slave market in the hope of interesting the highest bidder.’
‘How dare you!’ Amanda sprang to her feet. ‘You don’t understand in the slightest degree. You don’t even want to understand. All you want to do is sit in judgment on people and despise them if they don’t conform to your own little set of rules. I didn’t go to Arrowsmith because I wanted to. I hated every minute I spent there, if you’d like to know. I felt sick, but——’
‘But you accepted his offer?’ said Lewis softly.
‘No, I did not. I said—I had to say—that I would think it over. Then, when I came out into the street, I had a sort of inspiration. I decided to go to Sir Oscar and ask his advice.’
‘You didn’t think my advice—which I’d already given you—was sufficient?’
‘No, I didn’t. Because you were not in a position to judge. You knew only half the story. The other half is that my brother, who is ill and getting progressively worse, has a chance of being made better, but it involves a lot of money and someone in the family has got to find it. My sister-in-law has done everything she can. She—she cried when she told me, and you can’t imagine what that means. She’s so tough—so brave usually: she’s had to be. But she loves him—and so do I. You don’t understand one bit. Neither of you!’ The glance she shot at Warrender included him in her reproach and contempt. ‘You just blather about artistic integrity!’
There was an odd little silence. Then Anthea said, ‘Well, since neither of you seems to know what to say I’ll ask the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. How much money is involved, Amanda?’
‘I don’t quite know.’ Amanda passed her hands wearily over her face. ‘A lot. He—Henry—has been offered a long course of treatment in Switzerland under a famous specialist who’s greatly interested in his case. But that isn’t the major expense. The real problem is that Henry would have to be replaced at the hotel by a paid employee, and we simply can’t afford it. We’ve only just begun to break even in the last six months. It’s been a tremendous struggle—mostly Nan’s struggle. Now there’s no one to help but me, and how can I refuse to play my part? He’s her husband, it’s true. But he’s my brother, and I love him, just as she does.’
There was a brief silence once more, then, turning to her husband, Anthea asked, ‘What advice did you give her, Oscar?’
‘To refuse Arrowsmith’s offer at all costs,’ he replied shortly.
‘Knowing the bit about her brother?’ Then, as he merely shrugged, ‘You really are an unsym
pathetic so-and-so, aren’t you? And a bit of humbug too. What would your artistic integrity rate, I wonder, if you had to balance it against my health and happiness?’
‘Virtually nothing,’ replied Warrender with unexpected candour. And the anger went from her eyes and she lightly touched his arm as though in apology.
‘All right,’ said Anthea. ‘If it isn’t a terrific sum, Amanda, I’ll pay it.’
‘And suppose it is a terrific sum?’ enquired her husband disagreeably, but he put his hand over hers as it rested on his arm.
‘Well then, darling, I’m afraid you’ll have to pay it,’ Anthea informed him with a smile. ‘You can always do a few extra concerts if necessary, can’t you?’
‘But that,’ said Lewis Elsworth unexpectedly, ‘leaves me out.’ And as they all turned to look at him he cleared his throat and went on, ‘Amanda is in some sense my concern. I should naturally—’ he began to look uncomfortable and slightly cross—‘I should naturally wish to take part in any rescue operation, if one might term it that.’
‘I couldn’t possibly take your money!’ exclaimed Amanda, swallowing a great lump in her throat and resisting a desire to throw her arms round his neck.
‘Which of us do you suppose she’s addressing?’ asked Warrender of no one in particular.
‘All of us to a certain degree,’ said Anthea. ‘But Lewis in particular. Like all nice independent people Amanda naturally winces at the thought of accepting help from anyone. But with Lewis she feels a special obligation because she owes her splendid training to him. However, he really wants to do it, Amanda, anyone can see he does. So don’t cry about it, though it’s very sweet and moving of him.’
‘I’m not going to cry,’ Amanda insisted with a great effort. ‘For one thing—’ she laughed shakily—‘he says it makes him nervous if I do.’
‘Has he made you cry before, then?’ enquired Sir Oscar with interest. ‘How horrid of him.’
‘Listen who’s talking!’ exclaimed Anthea. ‘You made me cry quarts when you were supervising my training. Remember?’
‘That’s different,’ asserted Warrender. ‘Let us keep to the main point. Which is, Amanda, that neither I nor Dr Elsworth will hear of your accepting Arrowsmith’s proposal, either in your own interests or, possibly, ours. Shall I go on, Elsworth?’ He glanced at Lewis, who after a moment said reluctantly, ‘Very well.’
‘Then why don’t we discuss it over tea?’ suggested Anthea. ‘It would be pleasanter.’
‘I—I’ve already had tea. At Max Arrowsmith’s office,’ Amanda said apologetically.
‘You should never break bread—or drink tea—with the enemy,’ Lewis told her perfectly seriously. Then he held out his hand and smiled, and when she put her hand into his he gripped it so hard that he almost hurt her. But she thought no touch of the hand had ever conveyed more comfort to her.
Over tea Sir Oscar reduced the whole situation to startlingly simple terms. ‘The practical financial details can be dealt with almost immediately. ‘I’ll send my accountant to see your brother and sister-in-law, Amanda. They can work out what will be necessary, arrange a substitute for your brother while he’s away, see that he goes as soon as possible to—where is it? it?—Switzerland for his treatment, and Anthea and Lewis and I will decide what we are each contributing. It shouldn’t be difficult.’
‘Not difficult?’ Again Amanda passed her hand over her face in a gesture of bewilderment. ‘But only half an hour ago it seemed utterly insoluble. Surely the problem can’t be disposed of just like that? It can’t be so simple?’
‘Much simpler than arranging an opera season or tour, I assure you,’ replied Warrender with his rare and charming smile. ‘Possibly,’ he added with a touch of malice, ‘simpler than any project Max Arrowsmith had in mind.’
‘Particularly now we’ve removed his trump card,’ added Lewis with an air of frank satisfaction. ‘What was his rotten show about, Amanda, anyway?’
‘I don’t think it would be ethical to discuss a proposition I’ve turned down,’ Amanda told him demurely. ‘Certainly not with someone who has a rival suggestion to make. For Sir Oscar did say something about its being in your interests as well as mine that I should reject Mr Arrowsmith’s offer. Could I hear about that now, please?’
‘She wants to decide whether she should turn us down,’ commented Warrender drily.
‘Oh, no!’ Amanda exclaimed quickly. ‘I couldn’t possibly turn down anything you all suggested. Not after what you’ve offered to do—with such incredible generosity. I want you to understand that. I could never, never repay you all, and I’ll do anything you want—anything.’
‘That’s a bit too rash and expansive of you,’ Sir Oscar warned her, but not unkindly, and Anthea gave her a very brilliant smile. Only Lewis looked at the ground and said nothing. Until Amanda, arrested by his silence and his attitude, stared at him and simply willed him to look her way. He raised his eyes then and met hers. But in his there was something inscrutable which puzzled and slightly disturbed her, though she did not know why.
‘Perhaps you would do the explaining, Sir Oscar,’ he said at that point, and then leaned back in his chair as though the conversation no longer concerned him vitally. Amanda was therefore all the more startled when Warrender began, without preamble.
‘Our project centres round the fact that I find Lewis has, over the last year or two, composed a considerable amount of very attractive operatic music—but without ever coming to grips with what might be called a basic central theme. There is a lot of beautiful, singable stuff, but not related to anything one could call a strong libretto. In fact, a very odd case of putting the operatic cart before the horse.’
He paused and Amanda said doubtfully, ‘But surely one could find a good librettist who would be interested in fashioning a story of some kind? Isn’t that sort of thing done sometimes?’
‘Without a basic theme? and with a composer unknown to the theatre world?’ Warrender shook his head. ‘Not an impossibility, I suppose, but too tenuous to interest many people.’
Amanda was silent for several moments, then she said wonderingly, ‘Are you asking for my advice?’
‘Not really.’ The conductor laughed slightly. ‘Elsworth says that in some way you have a special understanding of his music and what he calls his artistic philosophy——’
‘I have?’
Warrender nodded coolly and went on, ‘He was coming to discuss the whole position with me this afternoon and I believe intended to bring you into it later. Then he telephoned this morning and said there was no question of involving you. I’m not sure why, but——’
‘I know,’ Amanda interrupted quickly. ‘He knew by then that I was going to consider Arrowsmith’s offer. That in fact I’d opted for the—the——’ she hesitated for the word and Lewis suddenly supplied it.
‘For the dark instead of the light,’ he said sombrely and, oddly enough, the curious statement did not sound in the least priggish.
‘Exactly,’ agreed Amanda without offence. ‘That’s really the essence of you and the way you regard your music, isn’t it? And that’s why you couldn’t have had anything more to do with my development if I’d accepted Max Arrowsmith’s offer. In a strange way perhaps that’s the answer—to your present problem.’
She stopped speaking, as though struck by some idea which was still just a little bit beyond her grasp, and no one said a word as she sat there in silence for a whole minute. Then she began to speak slowly again.
‘It’s only the germ of an idea, but—what they offered me this afternoon was a smart, rather unpleasantly amusing affair in which the one decent character was presented as an attractive naive sort of dimwit; the innocent to whom everything happened, in fact. I’m pretty sure that by the end she’d learned all their unpleasant ways for herself and proved far more adept at them than anyone else on the stage. It could be very funny to some people, I suppose, but was basically a story of degeneration.’
‘Sounds like
an Arrowsmith hit,’ agreed Warrender drily. ‘But what has that to do with our problem?’
‘Just that—couldn’t one play the process in reverse?’ said Amanda diffidently. ‘If a witty study in degeneration can be very effective, couldn’t a moving study in regeneration be effective too in a different way?’
‘Difficult not to make it smug and priggish.’ Warrender pulled a slight face. ‘And really not in tune with the times, I’m afraid. A high moral tone on the stage was once much admired, but I can’t see it making much headway with the so-called intelligentsia today.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve put it badly.’ Amanda gripped her hands together in an effort to make herself clear. ‘There’s nothing goody-goody about the character I have in mind. She’s more someone who starts with few redeeming qualities and by experience and—suffering, I suppose, becomes a fully developed soul.’
‘It sounds dangerously evangelistic,’ objected Warrender. ‘What do you think, Elsworth?’
‘Come here to the piano,’ Lewis said to Amanda. ‘You can read my manuscript and words, can’t you? You did so once before.’
‘Yes, I think so.’ She took the sheets of paper from him, nervously but with a rising sense of excitement. And after a minute or two she asked curiously, ‘What are these words?’
‘They’re an ancient prayer for warding off the Evil One,’ replied Lewis calmly. ‘Sing it.’
So for the second time that day she stood beside a composer, sight-reading what he had written. But the two experiences were awesomely different. Leydon’s effort had been charming, scintillating, clever. This was something almost uncanny, deeply moving and expressive of fear and appeal.
At the end Amanda said slowly, ‘That’s what she sings when she’s learned enough of what is right to fear what is wrong.’
Nightingales (Warrender Saga Book 11) Page 10
