Remembered Serenade (Warrender Saga Book 9)

by Mary Burchell

‘When you had gone to absurd lengths to assure me you wouldn’t dream of coming,’ he corrected smoothly.

  ‘I did not go to any absurd lengths!’ She kept her temper firmly in check. ‘When I was speaking to you I told the exact truth, as it was at that moment, I had no intention of coming here this week-end. For one thing, I hadn’t been invited, and — ’

  ‘A mere formality, surely, when you’d been so busy charming my uncle?’

  ‘Am I telling this story, or are you?’ she asked, so crisply that he glanced at her in surprise. ‘And why, incidentally, were you at such pains to tell me you couldn’t come down here, when all the time you meant to come sneaking down to see if I were here?’

  ‘I did nothing of the sort!’ He was suddenly furious, ‘Flow dare you suggest — ?’

  ‘It’s horrid when people make stupid and unfounded accusations, isn’t it?’ she said sweetly, and there was a long silence.

  ‘You’re saving — ’ he spoke slowly and reluctantly at last — ‘that my accusations are stupid and unfounded?’

  ‘I’m saying just that,’ she agreed, but there was no bitterness in her tone now and, after a moment, she took him by the arm, which seemed to surprise him a good deal. ‘Elliot — you said at a kinder moment that I might call you Elliot, although I noticed last night that you studiously referred to me as Miss Ransome — ’

  ‘I’m sorry about that. It was silly,’ he said unexpectedly.

  ‘Well, it was rather,’ she agreed goodhumouredly, ‘but we’ll forget that. What’s more important is — why did you decide to dislike me, from the moment I first entered your uncle’s house?’

  ‘I didn’t!’ he protested defensively.

  ‘You did, you know. You made up your mind that I was out to exploit your uncle in some shameful and idiotic way, and ever since then you’ve been busy fitting everything else into your theory, I don’t happen to mind much what you think — ’

  ‘Don’t you?’ he said unexpectedly, and the single question almost stopped her breath for a moment, because something deep down in her instantly registered the conviction that her assertion was a lie.

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ she declared lightly. ‘Why should I? Except that no one likes to be misjudged all the time. I genuinely like and admire your uncle; I was touched that he took a personal interest in me, even though that interest was founded on his regard for someone else long ago; and when he phoned — entirely on his own initiative, I might say — I couldn’t really see why I shouldn’t accept. Can you?’

  ‘You might at least have mentioned it to me, surely? After jumping down my throat at the very suggestion that you might be thinking of going, I mean.’

  ‘I did try to tell you. I made an attempt that time you found me at the box office and were so kind as to offer me t-tickets for your show.’ Her voice shook slightly as she remembered what a happy moment that had been. ‘But before I could do so you were called away and — ’

  ‘Called away?’ He sounded sceptical again.

  ‘It was a transatlantic telephone call, and I couldn’t very well insist on detaining you.’

  ‘Oh — ’ she saw he recalled the occasion exactly. ‘But surely — ’ he gave the impression of being reluctantly driven from one line of defence to another — ‘surely there were other times when you could have told me — asked me — ’ he stopped.

  ‘You mean you really feel that I was wrong to accept your uncle’s invitation without asking your permission first?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ He looked quite outraged at that suggestion,

  ‘What, then?’ she asked, in her most reasonable tone.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He frowned and then laughed angrily. ‘You’re trying to make me feel a fool, aren’t you?’

  ‘No,’ she said. And then, when they had walked on a few paces, she added, ‘But if you are feeling a bit of a fool, who am I to argue with you about it?’

  He laughed reluctantly at that and exclaimed, ‘All right, you win. What do you want me to do? Apologize abjectly?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ It was she who was outraged that time. ‘What a horrible idea!’

  ‘Think so?’ He gave her an amused, speculative glance. ‘I thought that was what most women liked, once they’d won their point.’

  ‘Not most women,’ she assured him firmly‘Perhaps the Sara Fernies of this world might.’

  ‘You have got a down on Sara, haven’t you?’ he said amusedly.

  ‘No, I haven’t. She’s no business of mine. But I was shocked at some of the things she said at that dress rehearsal.’

  ‘Were you? What, for instance?’ He looked genuinely curious.

  ‘Never mind now. But, if you’re really keen on her, you’d better show her a touch of healthy indifference from time to time. Like the cat on the wall, you know.’

  ‘She’s coming over here this afternoon,’ he said irrelevantly. ‘At least, I expect she is.’

  ‘Is she?’ Joanna looked surprised. ‘Did she also come down from London last night, then?’

  ‘No, no. She had to be there for the evening performance, of course. But we — disagreed about something. Well, she wanted me to hang about last night and then drive her down here this morning. Whereas — ’

  ‘You couldn’t wait to get here and find out whether I’d stolen a march on you or not,’ suggested Joanna.

  ‘Not at all,’ he replied stiffly. ‘It had nothing to do with you at all. In fact, until I actually saw you there in the drawing-room I hadn’t thought again about our conversation.’

  ‘That wasn’t the impression you gave.’

  ‘Look here, I thought we’d agreed on a sort of peace pact,’ he said protestingly.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ she laughed, but with a touch of genuine contrition. ‘Go on about Sara. She was annoyed because you wouldn’t wait for her and come down this morning.’

  ‘Whereas I — who really could get away — looked forward to an evening with my uncle and the War-renders. So I went. But I imagine she’ll take the morning train down. She has a week-end cottage near here, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ said Joanna, not adding — though she thought it — that no doubt this was a very useful way of keeping a hand on him. ‘So I suppose,’ she added after a moment, that you’ll drive her back to town and all will once more be well.’

  ‘For the time being,’ he agreed rather moodily. Then a nearby church clock struck the half-hour and he said, ‘That sounds like breakfast time. Shall we go in?’

  They went towards the house together, Joanna reflecting, not without pleasure, on what he had said about a peace pact.

  Well, at least she had had some opportunity to justify herself, and she felt quite amazingly happier because of that. Inevitably, Oscar Warrender’s verdict on her voice lingered unhappily in the back of her consciousness. But somehow even that seemed less shattering when she reviewed her talk with Elliot Cheam in the garden.

  He was quite right about Sara. Just before lunch she drifted in, looking absolutely lovely and displaying a deceptively soft and friendly mood. She knew the Warrenders slightly, it seemed, and they were all agreeable to each other, in the way people are when they have a certain amount of professional interests in common but no special personal rapport.

  She seemed to have some difficulty in recalling who Joanna was, although Joanna did not doubt that she remembered perfectly their first meeting, and also the dress rehearsal which had ended with Elliot taking her out to dinner instead of Sara.

  To Mr. Wilmore Sara was specially affectionate and even respectful, and twice she called him Uncle Justin, which Joanna privately thought excessive, especially when she recalled what Mrs. Trimble had said. Elliot, however, seemed to find nothing remarkable in it, and Joanna reminded herself that it was really not at all her business how any of these people chose to address each other.

  During the afternoon the Warrenders went with their host to see some recent additions to his famous collection. Joanna would r
eally have liked to go too, but no one made the suggestion. And, feeling considerably less than a professional after what had happened last night, she hardly liked to make the suggestion herself, lest she should find herself something of an intruder in a conversation between experts.

  So she stayed in the long drawing-room, occupying herself quite happily with a splendid musical reference book which she had never had a chance to examine before. She was deep in this when she realized from approaching voices that Elliot and Sara were crossing the hall towards the room where she was. Her instinct was to escape and leave them the place to themselves.; But she had only just reached one of the french windows which opened on to the terrace when they came in.

  To depart now would look too self-consciously like flight, so she paused by the window, as though looking out at the remarkably beautiful view, determined that in a few minutes she would make good her escape.

  The other two were speaking of their play and Elliot, catching sight of Joanna said, ‘Joanna went during the second week and tellsme she thoughtyou brilliant, Sara.’ ‘Really?’ Sara’s slight smile was no more than a conventional flick of attention in Joanna’s direction. ‘How did you like the play itself?’

  ‘Enormously,’ Joanna said sincerely. ‘I imagine it’s in for a long run, isn’t it?’

  ‘We hope so,’ observed Elliot.

  ‘I think I hope so,’ amended Sara.

  ‘Doesn’t one always hope for a long run?’ Joanna looked surprised.

  ‘Oh, in a way — of course/ Sara shrugged. ‘It’s what one prays for on the first night. But the moment you’ve settled down to it you realize afresh what a ruthless tie it is. Every single night except Sunday gone for heaven knows how long. It’s penal servitude if you’re one of the principals. For the producer it’s not so bad.’ She glanced across at Elliot under her long lashes, ‘He can get away, once the whole thing is running smoothly. But for the cast, particularly in the early part of the run, there’s no let-up. The public don’t take kindly to understudies.’

  ‘Point taken,’ said Elliot, sliding down a little further in his chair and grinning across at Sara in a slightly placatory way.

  ‘Well — ’ she laughed charmingly — ‘now you know why I felt deserted last night. But you’re forgiven. I take it we’re driving back to town together tonight — or tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Cat on the wall,’ said Joanna quite distinctly, as she stared out of the window with apparent concentration.

  ‘What?’ Sara glanced over at her, surprised and not too pleased at this interruption.

  ‘The cat we saw on the wall this morning, Elliot — remember?’ Joanna flashed him a quick smile.

  ‘What about it?’ he asked defensively. But he got up and came over to where she was standing.

  ‘It ran across the lawn just a moment ago,’ lied Joanna smoothly,

  ‘Who cares about a stupid cat?’ exclaimed Sara in the room behind them. ‘I said — I suppose you’re driving me back to town, Elliot?’

  There was an infinitesimal pause and then Elliot said deliberately, ‘I’m sorry, my dear, I’ve already promised to drive Joanna home. And as you know, three makes rather a crush in my car.’

  Sara was the last woman in the world to submit to being a crushed third in anyone’s car. She gave a slight laugh which, however, to Joanna’s ears, carried a faintly startled note.

  ‘That’s all right,’ she said coolly. ‘I’ll take the morning train back. It’s quicker anyway, and will give me at least one peaceful, relaxed night in the country. You’re going back tonight, I take it?’

  Again that tiny pause. But this time, Joanna realized, Elliot was in the dilemma of not knowing what her plans really were. So she answered quite sweetly and firmly for him — ‘Yes, we’re going back tonight.’

  ‘After dinner,’ Elliot amended.

  ‘I see.’ Sara sounded goodhumoured indifference personified. But just for a second she gave Joanna the kind of glance a Borgia might have given when measuring the next victim for a poisoned ring.

  ‘Too stupid of me to get myself involved in this,’ Joanna told herself, as she strolled out on to the terrace and down to the garden, ‘What are they to me, anyway? Except that he’s too nice to be a meal for a man-eating tigress. At least, I suppose he is.’

  Later, when she was putting the few last things into her case before going down to dinner, Mrs. Trimble came to ask if she would be catching a train or a bus back to town, as the Sunday timetables might not be familiar to her.

  ‘Neither, Mrs. Trimble. I’m being really spoiled, instead,’ Joanna explained. ‘Mr. Cheam has very kindly offered to give me a lift back to town.’

  ‘Has he, now?’ Mrs. Trimble looked interested, and even a trifle amused. ‘But he hasn’t got his bigger car with him, has he?’

  ‘I don’t think he can have,’ replied Joanna demurely. ‘He told Miss Fernie it only took two comfortably.’

  ‘Well, well,’ said the housekeeper. And it occurred to Joanna that a surprising amount of significance, not to say satisfaction, could be crammed into that simple repetition.

  Sara stayed to dinner, giving very much the impression that she was virtually a member of the family and assuming — quite correctly, as a matter of fact — that Mr. Wilmore would drive her over to her own place when his guests had departed. The Warrenders were leaving at the same time as Elliot and Joanna, though they were driving straight to their Thamesside home and not actually to London.

  In the flurry of final good-byes, Joanna was touched and a little surprised to be kissed by Anthea, and not at all surprised to be more or less ignored by Sara. Mr. Wilmore bade her a very kind good-bye, telling her that he looked forward to her making other visits to the Manor, and adding that he intended to come to London to be present when she sang in ‘The Love of Three Kings’.

  ‘Oh - ’, with a conscious effort, Joanna gathered together something of her one-time enthusiasm about that event — ‘I shall do my very best if I know you’re there.’

  ‘You will do your very best anyway,’ said Oscar Warrender sternly behind her. ‘No real artist must ever do less than that.’

  ‘But of course.’ She turned eagerly to speak to him. ‘And, Mr. Warrender, though you had to tell me some unwelcome truths, I promise you it won’t make me work any less hard for the performance.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that. I shall be there,’ he added, almost as an afterthought.

  ‘You will?’ She gazed in astonishment at the great conductor, ‘But why?’

  ‘I happen to like the work,’ he replied, in a tone which did not encourage further questions.

  ‘Oh? — oh, yes, I see.’

  She said good-bye then and went across to where Elliot was sitting in the driving seat of his car. She already had one foot on the step when suddenly a thought struck her, and she ran back impulsively to where the Warrenaers were still exchanging a last few words with their host.

  ‘Sir Oscar,’ she said breathlessly, ‘if you don’t mind my telling you, I’m in the second cast.’

  ‘I know.’ He looked down at her from his considerable height. ‘That’s why I shall be at the second performance,’

  ‘Oh - ’ she swallowed a great, excited lump in her throat — ‘but you as good as said I wasn’t interesting material.’

  ‘No, I didn’t say that at all. I said you had not got a great or memorable voice. I never said you did not interest me. On the contrary, it is just possible that you might interest me profoundly. But to decide that I should have to hear you — and see you — on a stage.’

  ‘You mean — ?’

  ‘I’m not going to tell you what I mean,’ stated War-render unequivocally. ‘There may be absolutely nothing in the idea I have. But, unlike our friend Elliot, I am prepared to follow my professional hunches wherever they may take me. Even,’ he added a little distastefully, ‘to a students’ performance. Now run along.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  OBEDIENT to the conductor’s inju
nction, Joanna ‘ran along’. Or rather, she walked slowly and not quite steadily across to the car and silently got in beside Elliot.

  ‘What did Warrender say that gave you such a shock?’ he wanted to know, as he started the car.

  ‘It wasn’t a shock,’ said Joanna. ‘At least, it was a very nice kind of shock. He said he would be coming to the performance. My performance! “The Love of Three Kings”. And he said specifically the second performance, so that he could hear me.’

  ‘But I thought you said it was more or less a students’ performance.’ Elliot sounded incredulous. ‘I never heard of Oscar Warrender going to an end-of-term college show. He can’t have been serious.’

  ‘He was very serious.’ Joanna was insistent on that. ‘In fact, he said that, unlike you — his words, not mine — he was prepared to follow his professional hunches wherever they might take him. Even to a students’ performance, What do you think he meant by that, quite?’

  ‘I have no idea. But - ’ Elliot grinned suddenly — ‘I begin to think I ought to come to this show too.’

  ‘No, please don’t. You’d make me nervous.’

  ‘And won’t Warrender make you nervous?’

  ‘Not in the same way.’

  He teased her a good deal about the way in which he made her nervous, but she refused to be drawn, and presently put an end to the subject by saying, ‘I haven’t thanked you yet for giving me this lift home.’

  ‘Shouldn’t I be doing the thanking?’ he countered. ‘I thought I was the object of a rescue operation.’

  Joanna laughed and said, ‘It was just a spur-of-the-moment idea, really. If you didn’t want to be rescued, I suppose you could have left the conversation at no more than a discussion about cats.’

  ‘I was too much intrigued to do that,’ he declared.; ‘I felt I must at least try out your theory. I’ll let you know if it works.’

  She was silent at that. On the one hand, she had no wish to be involved in any difficulty between Elliot and Sara, whom she judged to be dangerous; and, on the other, she found she very much liked the idea that Elliot intended to keep in touch.