'I'd like to sing the first act aria from "The Pearl Fishers",' replied Jeremy boldly.
•Hm—brave fellow/ commented Warrender, but not iinkindly, and he began the introduction to that most lovely—and difficult—aria.
To Caroline's unspeakable horror, Jeremy went hoarse on the third bar, cleared his throat nervously and then came to a ragged halt.
*Don't worry,' said the conductor calmly. *That can happen to anyone, particularly anyone who is nervous and under a strain. Go back and start again. Stand where I can see you.'
So Jeremy shifted his position, looked rather desperately at the man at the piano and received such a compelling nod of encouragement that he made a perfect entry and then went on confidently to the last soft high note, which he took faultlessly.
*Not bad,' observed Warrender, at which Jeremy drew a long sigh of imspeakable relief. *But you're attempting things beyond your present capacity. Sing me a scale.'
Jeremy sang a scale, and then followed firmly and intelligently as Warrender took him further and further to the top of his natural range.
'Yes, it's a good healthy voice,' was Warrender's rather moderate verdict. 'Tell me— do you want to sing more than anything else in the world?'
Jeremy nodded wordlessly.
*Well, the future depends primarily on you yourself and your capacity to work. I don't need to tell you that the profession is a crowded one. Crowded, that is to say, by worthy mediocrities who think the world owes them an interesting living. They're wrong, of course. The world owes no one anything but what they can achieve by
their own talent and hard work. Also a little bit of luck is a fine thing.'
'I regarded this audition as my bit of luck/ Jeremy said with his very engaging smile. 'And I would like to thank you for providing that. I do imderstand that there's no easy answer to what I'm trying to achieve, but I would just like to know if, in your opinion, I might have a chance of doing something worthwhile one day.'
'You want me to give you the unvarnished truth, I take it?'
'Yes, please.' Though Jeremy bit his lip anxiously, and Caroline found that she was digging her nails into the palms of her hands.
'Well, Jeremy—that's your name, isn't it? I doubt if there will ever be a time when the leading opera houses of the world will be competing for your services. But, if you have intelligence and a capacity for hard work to match your natural talent, you could well make a good solid career of considerable satisfaction to yourself. You might go even further than that, given some favourable circumstances, but it would be no kindness on may part to raise your hopes too high at this stage.'
'I see.' Jeremy looked rather serious, but not dejected.
'Sing me something else.' Warrender turned back to the piano. 'Something from the more general repertoire. These occasional specialist arias which require a very exceptional technique are seldom asked for, except from highly gifted performers who are already famous enough to have their individual requests catered for. No one is likely to put on "The Pearl Fishers" for you at this point.'
Jeremy smiled faintly and asked diffidently, 'What would you like to hear?'
*Rodolfo—the Duke in "Rigoletto"—
Faust ?' suggested Oscar Warrender. 'These
are the roles which are always in demand, and although you're not ready for any of them yet, you can keep them in mind.'
'Faust,' said Jeremy. *I could sing the aria from the Garden Scene.'
'Let's try it. You couldn't do better,' Sir Oscar told him. 'No one ever wrote more felicitously for the voice than Gounod.'
So Jeremy, both challenged and encouraged, proceeded to give a very good account of himself in that aria, and at the end Warrender turned and said,
'That's extremely good, you know. The aria lies beautifully for your voice. Do you know the rest of the scene?'
'Oh, yes, of course. But we need a Marguerite for that.'
'Indeed we do.' Warrender glanced across half enquiringly at his wife. But before Anthea could utter a word Caroline heard herself say excitedly,
'Let me sing the Marguerite! I'd like to. I'm used
to singing with Jeremy. At least ' she stopped
and looked both surprised and oddly guilty.
'Very well,' Sir Oscar smiled almost indulgently. 'You come and sing Marguerite. Do you want the score?'
'Oh, no, thank you.
She came and stood beside Jeremy, a streak of excited colour in her cheeks, her heart beating eagerly at the thought that it was she who would be giving Jeremy the opportunity to show how
well he sang in concerted music.
In the last year or so they had not sung very much together, but she was able to give just the right support, the subtle blending of vocal colour which enabled Jeremy to show another facet of his imdoubted talent. She hardly thought of her own part in the performance. She thought only of how best to give Jeremy a chance to shine.
Warrender let them sing right through to the end of the scene. Then again he just glanced at his wife, this time with a slight lift of his eyebrows, to which she responded with the faintest nod.
*You're quite a gifted couple, aren't you?' he said again with a touch of indulgence. 'Do you have the same teacher?'
*Oh, no!' Jeremy laughed, and explained about his grant to St Cecilia's College.
*And you. Miss Bagshot?' Warrender turned to Caroline. 'Who is your teacher?'
'Nobody at all distinguished,' Caroline explained deprecatingly. 'Nothing to do with a music college or anything like that, you know. You wouldn't have heard of her. Her name's Miss Curtis—^Naomi Curtis. She v/sls in musical comedy years ago.'
'Well, you may tell her from me—from Oscar Warrender—that she's a very good teacher indeed. Yours is a voice which has never had anything wrong done to it. It has been allowed to develop naturally. Few teachers can say as much for their pupils.'
'Oh—oh, thank you very much!' Caroline laughed in a pleased way and coloured. 'I'll tell her, certainly. She'll be very flattered.'
*And now ' Warrender glanced at his watch
*—I'm afraid I must send you away. I'm expecting another visitor. Leave your names and your addresses '
'We have the same address,' interjected Caroline happily. *I live with my aunt, who's Jeremy's mother,' she added decorously.
'I see.' Warrender smiled slightly. 'Well, give the particulars to my wife.' Then he turned again to Jeremy and said, 'I make no specific promises, you understand. But I'll keep you in mind for anything suitable that may come my way. It may be very small at first '
'I don't mind. I don't mind a bit!' Jeremy assured him, and he looked in a hero-worshipping way after the famous conductor as he left the room.
Meanwhile Caroline carefully supplied Lady Warrender with a note of Jeremy's name and their address and, to her surprise, received an envelope in return.
'What's this?' She turned it over, genuinely mystified.
'That's your real reward, my dear. The audition was an extra,' Anthea told her with a smile. Then, before Caroline could make any further comment, she added, 'Janet will see you out,' and indicated a discreet-looking maid who was already waiting at the door.
'Oh—thank you ' There was no time to
say anything further and, aware that she was being tactfully dismissed without a chance to argue about the reward, Caroline followed Jeremy out into the hall, and a moment later the door of the apartment closed behind them.
'Oh, Jeremy ' she hugged his arm as they
stood waiting for the lift together, 'it worked! I can't beheve it! It worked! Aren't you thrilled?'
*Yes. Aren't you?'
'On your behalf—of course.'
'What about on your own behalf? You got a Warrender audition too, didn't you?'
'Well—yes.' It occurred to her that there was a rather curious note in his voice, and she added anxiously. 'You didn't mind my singing too, did you? I mean—it was a duet. You had to have a soprano too, otherwise he wouldn't have real
ised how well you handle the rest of that scene.'
'But she was prepared to sing the Marguerite if you hadn't jumped in. Didn't you realise that?'
'Oh, Jerry, I'm so sorry! Did you very much want to sing with her?'
'What ambitious tenor wouldn't?' he retorted with a vexed laugh. 'It's the sort of chance that doesn't come twice in a lifetime.' And he pushed the bell to summon the lift with rather more force than was necessary. 'Imagine being able to say one had sung with Anthea Warrender!'
'I'm so sorry,' Caroline said again, overwhelmed with remorse, and she looked so utterly contrite, as she had sometimes when she was a child, that he said, 'It doesn't matter.'
But as they stood there in silence waiting for the lift to come, she knew it did matter. And she could think of nothing to say which would ease the situation.
'This thing must have gone out of order,' Jeremy muttered crossly, and pushed the bell again.
*It's coming now,' she said pacifically as they heard the discreet purr of the lift ascending.
Then with a gentle click it arrived at their floor, the door slid smoothly open, and out stepped Kennedy Marshall.
CHAPTER TWO
For a moment Caroline and her employer confronted each other in stunned silence. Then Kennedy Marshall asked grimly,
*And what are you doing here, may I ask?*
*Well, I ' she swallowed, groped for some
easy explanation and found none. Then, characteristically, Jeremy came to her rescue.
'I don't know who you are,' he said pleasantly, *but I'll thank you not to take that tone to my cousin. It's not your business what we're doing here or anywhere else, but since you're obviously the inquisitive type, I don't mind telling you. I've just been auditioning for Sir Oscar Warrender. By my cousin's arrangement,' he added grandly, as he ushered Caroline into the lift before him. Then the door closed and they were borne downwards.
*Who was that impertinent oaf, for heaven's sake?' he asked as they stepped out at the ground floor.
'That,' replied Caroline despairingly, 'was my boss.' At which Jeremy whistled and then laughed aloud.
'Well, he has no right to dictate what you do out of office hours,' he said. 'You should keep him in better order.'
'He isn't the kind to keep in order,' Caroline replied with a sigh. 'That's why I never got him round to auditioning you, I suppose.'
'Auditioning me? —Oh, yes, of course that was once the idea, wasn't it?' Jeremy recalled casually. *Well, we don't need him any more. We have Oscar Warrender behind us.'
*Oh, Jeremy, not exactly,' Caroline warned him with a protesting laugh, for she saw that her cousin's hopes were taking off into very high altitudes after the encouraging scene with Sir Oscar. 'He said he couldn't guarantee anything, remember. Only that '
*I reckon he's the kind of man who's usually better than his word. Not the kind who promises the earth and then forgets your existence the moment you go out of the door.'
*Well, I think I agree there,' Caroline admitted. *And of course you did make a splendid showing, Jerry. If only I hadn't barged in at the wrong moment,' she added remorsefully.
*Forget it—forget it,' Jeremy advised her good humouredly. ^Fve forgotten it already. I was just disappointed for a moment not to have sung with Anthea Warrender. But I'll do that one day on my own merits, I promise you. And Warrender shall conduct for us. You'll see! So smile, Carrie dear, and don't let it be said that that sour-faced boss of yours spoiled our great evening.'
She smiled then, of course, and tried to stifle the anxiety in her heart whenever she thought of facing Kennedy Marshall the next morning.
Naturally Aimt Hilda was full of congratulations on learning how the audition had gone. She was not surprised, she emphasised, that Sir Oscar Warrender had realised Jeremy's value. He was, after all, supposed to have excellent judgment. But she was gratified that someone had seen the
light at last. And by the end of the evening she was pretty well deciding whom she would invite to accompany her to Covent Garden when Jeremy made his debut there.
*And you say you also sang for Sir Oscar, Caroline? Wasn't that putting yourself forward a bit, dear? I mean—it was Jeremy's evening, wasn't it? We don't want Sir Oscar to think we expect him to spend his time on just anybody, do we?'
*It was all right. Mother,' Jeremy assured her. *He didn't mind. He was in a rather—indulgent mood, I suppose one might say. It must be rare with him. Anyway, Caroline filled in quite usefully in the "Faust" duet. We needed someone for that, you know.'
Caroline thought it was generous of him not to mention that Anthea Warrender herself might have been willing to *fill in quite usefully' if she had not put herself forward, as Aunt Hilda ejcpressed it. So she exchanged a grateful smile with her cousin and felt happy again, until she thought about the morrow.
It was all very well for Jeremy to be iighthearted about the incident, even to find an element of comedy in it. He was not the one who would have to face Mr Kennedy Marshall. Nor need he entertain any feelings of guilt. It was not he who had worked out the elaborate plot by which Sir Oscar Warrender (that distinguished client of her employer) had been induced to grant the all-important audition.
That it had been on behalf of someone other than herself really did not exonerate Caroline. Euphoric about the finding of Anthea
Warrender's ring, she had deliberately used her official position to do something of which she knew her employer would disapprove.
'If he'd been more helpful, more co-operative about giving Jeremy a break, it need not have happened,' she told herself, trying to shift some of the responsibility from her own shoulders to his. But she knew she was using specious arguments, and she despised herself for doing so.
On the way to the office next moining she tried to buttress her courage by reminding herself that Jeremy was right in saying it was not Kennedy Marshall's business what she did outside office hours. But she knew the issue was not quite so simple as that. She had been—she supposed 'devious' was the word—in her planning of the Warrender audition. That was how her employer would see it, for, whatever his faults might be, he was, she knew, uncompromisingly straight in his dealings with both clients and staff.
'Well, I shall soon know,' she admitted with a grimace as she hung up her coat in her office and lifted the cover from her machine.
She was all too right. For before she had sat down at her desk his bell summoned her and, swallowing a nervous lump in her throat, she picked up her shorthand notebook and went across to his office.
'You needn't bother with that notebook,' he told her without looking up. 'You're fired.'
'I'm—what?'
'You're fired. You understand the meaning of that word, I suppose?'
'Yes, I do, you mean bully. And you ought to
be ashamed to use it to me!' Caroline was astounded to hear herself say.
*What did you call me?' He looked up then, leaned back in his chair and regarded her with an astonishment at least equal to her own.
'I called you a mean bully, and I meant it.' She was trembling now but, oddly enough, her voice was quite steady and had taken on a deep, authoritative tone. 'How dare you speak to me as though I'd stolen the petty cash? I had every right to arrange an audition with Oscar Warrender for my cousin if I chose to do so. It was out of office hours and had absolutely nothing to do with you!'
'Aren't you over-simplifying the issue?' he suggested with dangerous calm. 'It certainly had something to do with me. You were a member of my staff. A trusted member of my staff until yesterday,' he added, which made her wince. 'I'd taken you into my confidence about the necessity for tact and diplomacy over the handling of the recent merger and the important clients involved. Of those clients I suppose Warrender and his wife were about the most important. When this silly business about Anthea's ring happened '
'It was not silly,' Caroline interrupted coldly. 'What you mean is that you were peeved because you had no part in it.'
There was anoth
er moment of surprised silence, and then he said, 'I don't think I know you in this mood.'
'I don't think I know myself,' she responded imhappily, and passed her hands over her face in a singularly expressive gesture of bewilderment and distress.
*Sit down,' he growled, and she dropped into her usual chair beside his desk, still clutching the notebook he had told her she would no longer require.
'Now ' he leant forward, his hands clasped
in front of him on the desk, those frighteningly penetrating grey eyes fully upon her'—are you going to tell me you feel totally guiltless about the way you've behaved in this business?'
Caroline looked back at him, and then her glance fell.
'No,' she said in a much smaller voice. 'I would much rather have told you what I was going to do—but then you wouldn't have let me do it, would you?' Then, as he didn't answer that, she went on, 'I hadn't really worked it all out at first. It was you yourself who gave me the idea.'
'/ did?'
She nodded. 'When you knew I was going to return the ring in person, you observed in a nasty, snide sort of way, "Don't try to foist that cousin of yours on Warrender, of all people." '
There was a short silence, then he said, as though he were making a not altogether welcome discovery, 'You don't much like me, do you?'
She looked away from him, but then felt compelled to look back again.
'As a matter of fact I do—^usually,' she replied reluctantly. And at that he laughed suddenly, and she thought how much it changed him and how until that moment it had never occurred to her that his laugh and his smile showed more in his eyes than in any other feature.
'Even though I'm a mean bully?' he enquired.
Caroline hesitated again and then said. 'Do you want me to take that back?'
'I think I do rather.'
*Then you must also take back the terms of my dismissal,' she told him firmly.
It was he who hesitated then until, prompted by something she could not quite define, she held out her hand to him across the desk, and he took it—reluctantly at first and then in an almost painful grip.
Warrender 13: On Wings of Song Page 3
