Child of Music (Warrender Saga Book 5)

by Mary Burchell

  It is not unusual, Felicity knew, to hear a beautiful voice. But to hear a beautiful voice which has been developed instead of exploited, nurtured instead of forced, is a joy which warms the heart and enriches the spirit. She looked at the strong, intelligent, rather hard face of Oscar Warrender in the light from the orchestra and she thought, ‘No wonder she loves him if he really did all that for her.’

  Then she was lost again in the absorbing drama taking place on the stage, for Anthea — a fine actress in her own right — was supported by one of the few great singing actors of the age in the part of the ageing stage director who loves Adriana without hope of return.

  In the first interval Felicity wandered out and up the great main staircase to the crush-bar, and here she almost immediately ran into Stephen Tarkman. He, whom she had always regarded as rather difficult to move, was as enthusiastic as she was, and they were discussing the first act with mutual enjoyment when she saw his gaze shift fractionally from her face, and he looked beyond her as though something or someone had riveted his attention.

  She was not entirely surprised when, a second later, Julia Morton’s voice said behind her, ‘Hello, Stephen. I thought you might be here tonight. Especially as you didn’t manage the first night.’

  ‘No, I couldn’t get to town until today. Miss Grainger and I drove up this afternoon,’ explained Stephen, drawing Felicity into the conversation.

  ‘Miss — ? Oh.’ Julia registered Felicity’s presence with a cool, sweet smile which so entirely dismissed her from the scene that, against all her inclination or intention, Felicity found herself giving a careless little nod and then moving off, as though she had seen someone else she knew.

  As she did so, she heard the other woman say, in a pleasantly warm and intimate tone, ‘What about supper afterwards, Stephen? I’ve been — missing you.’

  The slight catch in her voice was extremely effective, and Felicity would not have been human if she had not lingered to hear Stephen’s reply.

  ‘I’m giving a party afterwards for the Warrenders,’ she heard him say. ‘I hope you’ll join us.’

  ‘And I hope she won’t!’ thought Felicity, angry and disappointed. But she could not imagine Julia passing up a chance like that. She would come all right — and half Felicity’s pleasure would be gone.

  She returned to her seat in somewhat sombre spirits. Gone was her chance of being taken round backstage, she felt sure. Having found him, Julia would see to it that he remained her escort for the evening. Indeed, glancing up and to the side, Felicity saw that Stephen and Julia Morton were entering a box on the first tier. She could not decide if he were joining her, or she him. But in either case her own chances of a happy evening in his company had vanished.

  Better concentrate on drawing all the enjoyment she could from the performance, for she could not imagine that she would see much more of Stephen that evening. This she did to such good effect that her eyes were full of tears during the last scene — partly because Anthea was so truly moving and partly, it must be admitted, because of her own disappointment. With Anthea dying on the stage, poisoned by a jealous rival, and Julia Morton sitting triumphantly beside Stephen Tarkman in the box, it really did seem that the unjust were having it altogether too much their own way.

  Fortunately, however, good sense dried her tears before they could actually spill over, and Felicity found herself clapping madly for Anthea and Warrender and the baritone and the tenor — but most of all for Anthea, who restored her morale in the most engaging way by picking her out in the audience and smiling at her from the stage.

  Sufficiently sure of herself now to go backstage on her own, she joined the slowly moving crowd now making their way out. But in the foyer Stephen Tarkman came up to her, took her evening wrap from her arm and put it round her shoulders and said, ‘You’re going to need that. It’s turned chilly, and we have to go outside to reach the stage door.’

  ‘Isn’t — I mean, aren’t we waiting for Mrs. Morton?’

  ‘No. She has gone ahead to the hotel. Dressing-room adulation isn’t much in her line, you know.’

  No, it wouldn’t be! Felicity thought. Not enough generosity there for her to be able to admire someone else wholeheartedly. But she kept that thought strictly to herself. And when they had passed the stage-door and negotiated the cheerless stone passages and steps which are in such strange contrast to the glamour usually associated with stage life, they arrived at Anthea’s dressing-room.

  She was still in her last-act costume, starry-eyed and slightly flushed with triumph and happiness. There were several people in the room, but when she saw Felicity she held out her hand, while continuing to talk to someone else, and for a few seconds only the clasp of that strong, warm hand told Felicity how pleased she was to have her there.

  The woman to whom she was speaking was small, elderly and unfashionably dressed, but Anthea gave the most affectionate attention to her, even though it was obvious that slight criticism mingled with the admiration she was expressing.

  Then Anthea said, ‘Felicity, this is Miss Sharon, my first singing teacher. It was she who encouraged me to go in for the competition where I met Oscar.’

  ‘No, no, my dear!’ Miss Sharon corrected her with some asperity. ‘I didn’t encourage you. I was against it, if you remember. You were not ready then for anything of the sort. But since you insisted I tried to see to it that you were well prepared. Fortunately Mr. Warrender was sensible enough to see you didn’t win, and then he was able to take on your training himself.’

  ‘Yes. Very unscrupulous of him,’ Anthea said with a laugh.

  ‘Very far-seeing,’ retorted the old singing teacher. ‘And most fortunate for you. The end justified the means.’

  Then she moved aside and, before Anthea could turn to Felicity, her place was taken by a very different figure, a woman beautiful in a strange, ageless way, and so authoritative that Felicity was not surprised to see everyone draw back instinctively for her.

  ‘Madame Peroni!’ Anthea exclaimed, and for a moment her fingers tightened on Felicity’s hand before she released her. ‘I didn’t know you were in the house.’

  ‘Didn’t you get my flowers, dear child?’ Peroni leaned forward and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I made sure they would be in time.’

  ‘I’m sure they were. Forgive me — ’ suddenly Felicity realized that Anthea was also talking in the same charming, meaningless way, a little as though they were going through some ritual. ‘I haven’t had time to look at all the cards. But how sweet of you to come. I thought you were in Paris.’

  ‘I was. I flew over yesterday. I couldn’t stay away. “Adriana” was always a favourite role of mine. Ai — ai — ’ she had an absolutely matchless way of combining this exclamation with a sigh — ‘Oscar and I did it so many times together. He has coached you well, my dear. With a little more experience — ’ she left the sentence unfinished as though criticism, though called for, must not perhaps be put into words. ‘I must go and see Oscar. The usual room, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘I must ask him why he took the monologue faster than usual. Perhaps he felt those long phrases might prove too difficult — ’ again she left that unfinished. Then she added, with a charming, tolerant smile, ‘It takes a very experienced singer indeed to manage those phrases at the right pace.’

  Then she kissed Anthea again and went her way. And little Miss Sharon said in an awed tone, ‘Was that Peroni, Anthea?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Anthea briefly.

  ‘Without doubt a very great artist. But not a very nice person.’

  ‘Not very,’ Anthea agreed with a smile. Then, as Miss Sharon took her departure, she turned at last to Felicity and said cryptically, ‘You see what I mean?’

  ‘Absolutely!’ Felicity laughed. ‘But I don’t think you need fear anyone tonight, my dear.’

  At that Anthea’s expression relaxed suddenly and she said, ‘Hello, Stephen,’ to Felicity’s companion. And St
ephen asked curiously, ‘What was it that Felicity was supposed to see about Peroni?’

  ‘Just a basic likeness to someone we neither of us like,’ Anthea assured him lightly. ‘I must clear the room now, darlings, and get changed. If you love me, Stephen, go and see Peroni doesn’t have a long tête-à-tête with Oscar. And, whatever the blandishments, don’t ask her to the supper-party, or I’ll never speak to you again.’

  ‘I promise,’ he said with a smile. Then he and Felicity left and went to the conductor’s dressing-room, where they found him being very pleasant and rather distant to Peroni, and Peroni being very pleasant and rather intimate to him.

  If he was either relieved or annoyed to have the conversation interrupted he showed no signs of it, and it struck Felicity that he was well able to handle Peroni — or indeed anyone else — without assistance. He said a few courteous words to Felicity and Stephen, then he in his turn — and rather more brusquely than Anthea — cleared his dressing-room, and Stephen and Felicity left the Opera House and walked the short distance to the Gloria.

  ‘I see why Anthea is still afraid of that woman,’ Felicity said impulsively after a few moments’ silence.

  ‘Of Peroni?’ Stephen sounded genuinely astonished. ‘But, as you yourself said, she has no reason to fear anyone tonight. She is pretty well reigning prima donna in her own right now, while Peroni is virtually retired.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean professionally afraid of her. I was thinking that, in my student days, they used to say Oscar Warrender was in love with Peroni.’

  ‘They say!’ he repeated with scornful amusement. ‘Who says? The public? The papers? The continental dirt-sheets? They all say the most ridiculous things at one time or another, and what they can’t find out they make up.’

  ‘Then you don’t believe that particular story?’

  ‘I just don’t know. But if there was anything in it, it’s all over long ago. You women! The way you stir yourselves up about things that don’t any longer matter. And who was the someone you and Anthea dislike and who, for some unknown reason, reminded you of Peroni? Julia Morton, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes.’ Though startled, Felicity answered boldly, though her voice came out as more breathlessly defiant than she had intended. ‘How did you know? By noting the same likeness yourself?’

  ‘On the contrary, I see no likeness whatever,’ he told her drily. ‘Except that they are both attractive women. I merely asked myself whom you know in common who could be described as clever, good-looking and rather intimidating.’

  ‘Oh — ’ Felicity’s tone was slightly subdued.

  ‘There are times,’ he said pleasantly, ‘when I could beat you.’ But he took her by the arm just then — possibly because it was dark and the pavement uneven — and the warm clasp of his fingers on her arm somehow conveyed an odd sense of amused liking rather than real anger.

  The strangest sensation tingled down her arm. Nothing to do with the actual physical clasp, which was light enough. But after a moment she said in a placatory tone, ‘I don’t have to like her, do I?’

  ‘No more than she has to like you,’ was the answer. ‘But life would be a lot simpler for me if you and she had a little more common sense about the whole business.’

  Before she could ask him just what he meant by that they arrived at the Gloria. But Felicity did note with some pleasure that his remark seemed to imply some criticism of Julia as well as herself, which was somewhat comforting.

  She went up to her room before joining the party in the restaurant. Mostly because she thought she would rather have the moral support of the Warrenders — or at least Anthea — before encountering Julia Morton again. So she spent some minutes powdering her nose, combing her hair and then quite frankly studying herself in the long mirror.

  Stephen had spoken of Julia, quite correctly, as clever, good-looking and rather intimidating. No one could have described the girl facing her now in the mirror as anything like that. And presumably Stephen had been describing the kind of woman he found attractive.

  Good-looking she might be, in a slightly ingenuous, out-giving way. Reasonably intelligent no doubt, though hardly what Stephen had meant by ‘clever’ as applied to Julia Morton. As for intimidating — not in the least.

  ‘But I wouldn’t want to be!’ thought Felicity. ‘I’d hate to make people feel as she does. Or as Peroni does,’ she added as an afterthought. ‘And anyway, Stephen held my arm as though he liked me, and he was smiling when he said there were times when he could beat me. Whatever he meant by that!’

  She laughed, felt unaccountably reassured, and went downstairs to join the supper-party.

  It had been arranged in one of the big, half curtained-off alcoves of the restaurant, an admirable arrangement which imparted an air of privacy without actually concealing a distinguished gathering from the gaze of those members of the public who reckoned to do a little enjoyable star-gazing if they paid the prices charged at the Gloria. There were about a dozen guests in all, seated so that, if conversation became general, there would be no difficulty in merging individual groups into one.

  To her secret delight and surprise, Felicity found herself seated by Stephen himself. On her other side was Warrender’s invaluable secretary, Edgar Inglis, who greeted her with apparent pleasure, remembered her name with flattering ease, and immediately showed that he was up in the news of even so inconsiderable a person as herself by asking her how she was enjoying teaching at Tarkmans.

  ‘I love it — of course. How did you remember I was going to teach there?’ Felicity was amused.

  ‘It’s my business to remember everything,’ he told her. ‘Besides, you’re the sort of girl one does remember.’

  Felicity nearly said, ‘Am I?’ in genuine surprise. But, seeing the gleam of mischief in his eyes, she changed that to ‘Do you get results with that line?’

  ‘Almost invariably,’ he told her, unabashed. ‘Nothing is nicer than to be remembered, you know. I keep a private dossier about everyone — here,’ he added, touching his forehead. Then he laughed and declared, ‘I meant it where you are concerned. Genuine people are always memorable in our world. Besides Anthea speaks of you quite often, and what Anthea says I remember without effort.’

  ‘He’s a little bit in love with her in his laughing way,’ thought Felicity. ‘But I can’t blame him for that.’ And she glanced across the table at Anthea, who immediately gave her a very special smile in return, before leaning forward and saying to Julia Morton.

  ‘I’m glad you were able to come this evening. I wanted to have a word with you about Janet — about your niece. I understand she is a very gifted little girl, and I’m going to make a point of hearing her next time we are at Tarkmans.’

  If Felicity was startled to hear the war being taken into the enemy’s camp in this unexpected way, Julia apparently was not. She answered a shade too quickly, it was true, but her charming speaking voice betrayed no edge at all as she replied courteously, ‘But she’s not at Tarkmans, you know.’

  ‘Not yet. But if she proves to be as good as I gather, I hope she will go there next term.’

  Anthea’s voice, Felicity noticed, had taken on exactly the note which had been there when she addressed Peroni, earlier in the evening, and she thought, ‘That’s her special voice for when she’s sparring with the enemy! But, bless her generous heart, I almost wish she wouldn’t.’ For along with the gratitude which she felt was a half-frightened awareness that Stephen had suddenly fallen silent.

  ‘I’m not sure that you’ve been very accurately informed about Janet.’ A slight note of worried regret crept into Julia’s voice at this point. ‘She’s a clever little monkey, it’s true. But not much staying power, I’m afraid. Not the Tarkman type of student at all. More — what shall I say? — more really a slick performer than a genuine music-maker.’

  ‘I’m sure we can leave it to my husband to decide that,’ Anthea laughed agreeably. And Julia really was startled then into exclaiming, ‘But surely —
’

  ‘Warrender doesn’t usually bother about auditioning youngsters,’ cut in Stephen shortly, as though that disposed of the matter.

  ‘Only,’ retorted Anthea, with a sort of sweet obstinacy that was oddly compelling, ‘only if I specially ask him to do so.’

  ‘And you have asked him in this case?’ Stephen’s eyebrows went up.

  ‘I have asked him in this case,’ Anthea agreed.

  ‘Very interfering of you,’ commented Stephen drily.

  ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Anthea smiled charmingly. ‘I begin to think I must be getting rather horrid and prima donna-ish. And, judging from the way you’re frowning, you seem to be thinking just that too. Are you, Stephen?’

  ‘If I’m frowning, my dear, it couldn’t be on your account after tonight’s performance,’ Stephen said, with a little ironical bow in her direction.

  ‘I’m so glad.’ Anthea opened her eyes with an air of innocence which belonged to one of her more ingenuous roles. ‘Then that’s settled. We’ll try to make it quite soon. In fact, I think Oscar had some idea of coming down to Tarkmans about the middle of the coming month.’

  ‘How exciting!’ Julia’s apparent pleasure and excitement were so well done that Felicity could hardly help admiring her. ‘Janet will be thrilled. I only hope — ’ she broke off, and then added, as though her deepest feelings were engaged, ‘If only she can make the grade, poor baby. She has no parents, you know, but I’ll be there to support her and — ’

  ‘No!’ Felicity could hardly believe it was her voice which had, so to speak, fired that one explosive protest She only knew that, somehow, Julia must be stopped from spoiling things yet again.

  There was a moment’s silence. To Felicity it almost seemed that all conversation ceased round the supper-table, though this was not the case. The cold, inimical silence which enveloped her came only from Julia Morton and, she realized with dismay, from the suddenly alienated Stephen.