Song Cycle (Warrender Saga Book 8)

by Mary Burchell

  “We are to go with the Warrenders, I understand.”

  “No, no — you’re coming with me.” Jonathan’s hand closed firmly round her arm. “It’s all right, Mr. Fulroyd, I’m taking Anna. We’ll see you at the Grange.”

  And she was guided across the road and installed in Jonathan’s car without more ado. Then, as he steered clear of the press of cars, she said, between eagerness and nervousness, “You haven’t told me yet what you thought of it.”

  “I’ll tell you properly when we get away from this mob,” was the reply. And she leaned back again, content to wait, as she realised that he was not taking the short, straight run to the Grange, but was making the same detour he had made that first day when he had fetched her from home.

  They were alone at last. Free of all the other cars, on a rising edge of moorland above the town. And here he stopped the car and turned to look at her.

  She withstood his glance pretty well, though she was trembling a little. Then he bent forward and kissed her deliberately and said, “You wonderful, darling girl. Did you know that we all heard a miracle tonight?”

  “Well, n-no. That’s putting it a bit high, isn’t it?” She laughed rather uncertainly.

  But he didn’t laugh. He leaned back with his arms folded and regarded her as a man might regard a great work of art that he was seeing for the first time.

  “It happens only half a dozen times in the lifetime of even the luckiest of us,” he said slowly. “To be there when a great talent suddenly flowers in all its complete perfection. Weren’t you aware of it yourself?”

  “I did know that something — flowered, as you say. Something that I’ve been working for for years just — happened. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

  “The description will do.” He put out his hand and passed it gently over her shining hair, as though he were touching something infinitely precious. “My dear — my

  very dear Anna, how does one say ‘thank you’ for such an experience?”

  “I — I’m glad if you were so pleased with me,” she stammered.

  “Pleased! He caught both her hands and held them close against him, so that she was drawn close to him also. “I haven’t felt so thrilled and elated for years. I’m mad about — this voice of yours. I can’t hear enough of it. I must have been insane ever to think I could bear to do the Canadian tour without you there. All right, you brushed me off once and I displayed a bit of angry pride. But who cares about that now? We have to work together, do you hear? You must be in my company — you simply must!”

  “But is there going to be a company?” Her voice quivered with mingled hope and fear. “I thought it was a write-off after your grandfather—”

  “Oh, to hell with that!” declared Jonathan. “It was a blow at the time. But what is one worth if one can’t face a setback or two? Maybe it wouldn’t have been good for me to have it all so easily. Sometimes one has to learn the hard way.”

  “Oh, Jonathan !” She knew in that moment that she loved him. “You really think you might bring it off, after all?”

  “Yes,” he nodded. “I might not be able to make it a spring tour. Perhaps there must be a postponement while I make fresh arrangements. But you’ll wait, won’t you, Anna? You’ll wait and come with me when I’ve got things fixed. I couldn’t bear to let anyone else have the handling of that talent.”

  “Yes, I’ll wait.” She felt dazed, as though she had been hit on the head by a shower of gold. “Yes, I’ll — come with you.”

  “It’s a bargain?” He took her face between his hands.

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “It’s a bargain.”

  “That seals it, then.” And he gave her a long kiss on her lips.

  After that they drove on, with hardly another word between them. All the words which mattered had been said. And Anna who, earlier in the evening, had thought that perhaps she was the happiest girl in the country, knew now that she was the happiest girl in the world.

  As they drove up to Coppershaw Grange, there were other cars still arriving and, as they joined the throng of people entering the house, Anna hoped no one would notice that she and Jonathan had taken rather longer over their journey than was strictly necessary.

  Only one person noticed. At least, only one person remarked on it. And that was Teresa, who was standing in the hall, making everyone welcome. She smiled at them certainly, but Anna thought her eyes were cold and strangely anxious as they came up to her. Her tone, however, was quite gay as she asked,

  “Where have you two been? I thought you were among the first to leave.”

  “I’ve been persuading Anna that she must work with me,” replied Jonathan coolly. “She is going to join my company when I do the Canadian tour.”

  “The—? But is there going to be a Canadian tour?” asked Teresa, in much the same words that Anna had used. “I thought it was very much in the balance.”

  “Oh, I think we’ll manage somehow. I’m not so easily put off as my grandfather no doubt hoped,” returned Jonathan with a smile, and he made to go on with Anna into the big drawing-room.

  But Teresa caught him by the arm and said something in a low, urgent voice, which was so obviously meant for him alone that Anna felt bound to go on without him, much though she would have liked to know what was said.

  It hardly mattered now, though, she realised suddenly. Teresa’s exclamation alone had been enough to show that she and her father were not going to be responsible for financing any Canadian tour. Jonathan was not to be tied to her in any way. He was going to be independent — free to engage whatever artist he chose, free to like — or love — any girl, without owing any obligation to Teresa Delawney.

  If it had been possible for her spirits to rise even higher, this reflection would have made her even more radiant. As it was, when she entered the drawing-room there was a little spatter of applause, and someone laughed and said, “It’s not difficult to see who is the queen of song this evening.”

  It was a woman’s voice, and when Anna turned to see who had spoken, she saw it was Anthea Warrender, who smilingly raised her glass and drank to her.

  Such a tribute from such a famous singer herself made Anna catch her breath, and she crossed the room to thank her.

  “It’s completely deserved, my dear,” Anthea told her. “Tonight was a very great night for all of us.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Anna smiled shyly, and then instinctively glanced at the tall man who was standing beside Anthea.

  “Yes,” he confirmed, “you’ll do. Provided you work hard, of course. Don’t let tonight’s triumph go to your head. You have a long way to go yet before you become an experienced, worthwhile artist. But the material is there, which is the first and absolute essential. What you do with it is the real test of you as a person and an artist.”

  “I know,” Anna said earnestly. “I know. And I will work hard, I promise you.”

  “With whom?” enquired Warrender, a little sardonically. “That’s important too, you know. When the news of this evening gets around you may well have several offers — most of them unsuitable at this present stage of your development. You had better ask me — or Jonathan — before you make any final decisions.”

  “Thank you, I will! And thank you also, Mr. Warrender, for all your kindness to my father.”

  “It was not kindness. It was a well-trained capacity for recognising talent in an unlikely place,” retorted the conductor drily.

  “Oh, Oscar! It was probably a dash of kindness too,” protested Anthea amusedly. “You are rather nice sometimes, you know.”

  “My father described you that first evening as a dear, good man,” Anna said, smiling. “I thought it rather incongruous at the time, to tell the truth. But I don’t know. It’s entirely thanks to you that he looks happier tonight than I’ve ever seen him look in all the years I’ve known him.”

  “I am overwhelmed,” said Warrender, looking nothing of the kind, but he smiled not unkindly. “Your father is a g
reatly gifted musician, Miss Anna, but without much practical judgment. Possibly the natural stream of inspiration has remained all the clearer for that. But he needs a touch of worldly guidance.”

  It was pretty obvious who intended to supply the touch of worldly guidance, and Anna smiled gratefully at the famous conductor, before she turned to Rod Delawney, who was waiting eagerly to add his share of congratulation to all that had gone before.

  But, being a practical man, he also steered her firmly past all other admirers and led her to a splendid buffet, declaring that she at least had sung for her supper and should be allowed to enjoy it now. Anna indeed found that she was extremely hungry after all the excitement, and was only too glad to be installed in a fairly secluded corner, with an appetising selection of food and a glass of Mr. Delawney’s best champagne.

  “Though I suppose the excitement and congratulation is more heady than anything that ever came out of a bottle,” Rod said, as he stood smiling down at her.

  “The champagne is good too, Rod. Everything is wonderful!” Anna declared. “This is the greatest night of my life.”

  “So far,” he amended. “I venture to prophesy there will be many, many triumphs still to come.”

  “You think so?” Smilingly she watched the bubbles rising in her glass. “Well, I’m daring to hope so too.” And she thought of Jonathan and the Canadian tour, and suddenly it occurred to her that perhaps she should tell Rod about that. He was too nice to be allowed to go on thinking he might play a generous hand in her career when in fact there was no question of that.

  “Rod, there’s something else which makes tonight the most exciting thing ever,” she said impulsively. “Jonathan is pretty sure that he is going to get the backing for that Canadian tour. And he wants me to be in the company.”

  “Yes, I know.” He smiled down at her indulgently.

  “You — know? But how do you know?” She glanced down at the champagne again lest the sudden bleak dismay which gripped her should show in her eyes.

  “I had a word with him this evening. I told him that if you were in his company I’d see that he got his backing all right.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Suddenly there was a sharp, snapping sound, and Anna exclaimed, “Oh! I’ve broken my glass.”

  “Careful I Don’t cut yourself.” Rod was taking the two pieces from her. “The stem must have been cracked. I’ll get you another glass.”

  “No—” she wiped a few cold drops of wine from her hand, with the strange impression that they had chilled her to the heart. “I don’t want any more, thank you.”

  “Of course you do!” Rod would take no denial. And as he went from her, she looked after him and thought, “So that was why Jonathan made such a fuss of me in the car and insisted that I must join his Canadian tour.” The moving words, the unforgettable kiss, those magic moments of pure happiness, had all had a purpose.

  “You must be in my company,” he had said. “You simply must.” And how right he was! She was a financial necessity for him. Well worth some romantic love-making.

  She knew that possibly she was being unfair to him. His admiration for her voice and talent had been genuine enough. She had no need to doubt that. But what made her an irresistible asset to his company was the fact that Rod Delawney’s powerful backing was dependent on her being a member.

  “Oh, why did Rod have to tell me?” she thought wretchedly. “Now I shall never know how much was self-interest and how much real feeling. I’d still be happy if Rod hadn’t spoken.”

  She was too much her mother’s daughter to want anything but the stark truth, in the usual way. But in that moment she would gladly have remained in happy ignorance, rather than have her glorious illusions snatched from her. She looked round for Jonathan, as though the mere sight of him might help her to regain her confidence in him. But he was talking to Teresa and Mrs. Delawney, and seemed very cheerfully occupied.

  Then she saw her father coming towards her, accompanied by Oscar Warrender, and she had to force a smile to her face and try to look once more as though this evening held nothing but joy for her.

  “Anna dear, Mr. Warrender has been talking to me about your future.” Her father’s face at any rate was still alight with the happiness of contented achievement. “He feels very strongly that you should be in the hands of a really good manager or agent. His own manager—”

  “Dermot Deane!” exclaimed Anna, recalling without effort the name of the most successful manager in London.

  “Exactly.” Warrender took over the conversation then. “He would have to hear you, of course, for himself. He couldn’t be expected to take you on hearsay only, even on my recommendation. So I think you should come to London as soon as possible. There may be some very speedy reactions after tonight. And there are one or two useful people you should meet.”

  “To London? I don’t know—” She turned quickly to her father. “Could you manage without me? Mother might be coming home almost any time now and—”

  “Of course we can manage!” Never before had she seen her father so confident that he could cope with whatever happened. “Mrs. Ford would come in every day, and I’m not entirely helpless. In any case, enough time has been wasted already. This isn’t the moment to let a few domestic details stand in the way of a great opportunity.”

  “How soon can you come, Anna?” Warrender had been standing by with a slightly impatient air while these family details were discussed.

  “Any time you suggest,” asserted Mr. Fulroyd, without waiting for his daughter to reply.

  “Next week, then,” said Warrender. “The first half of next week. I’ll arrange for Deane to hear you on Tuesday or Wednesday. I can’t answer for him in advance, of course, but I don’t doubt he will want to take you on. You would be fairly safe in his hands. And he would understand that I should wish to be consulted about any offer made to you.”

  “Mr. Warrender—” she spoke a little uncertainly — “I have had one tentative offer made to me already. Jonathan Keyne wants me for his Canadian tour.”

  “But I thought you said there wasn’t going to be a tour,” her father interrupted in surprise. “Wasn’t there trouble about financing it?”

  “It seems that he’s more hopeful, after all,” replied Anna, without much expression in her voice.

  “Yes, he said something about it to me this evening,” Oscar Warrender agreed carelessly. “Support from quite an unexpected quarter, I believe. Well, such a tour would provide you with excellent experience, of course. But we won’t count on anything at this point. Where will you be staying in London?”

  Anna gave him the address and telephone number of the flat she had shared during most of her student days, for she felt pretty confident that she could always have a bed there.

  “I’ll be there by Monday,” she promised.

  And as Warrender gave an approving nod and moved off with her father, she saw Jonathan coming towards her.

  She stood up, trying to control a small nervous tremor, and said hastily, “I was looking for Rod Delawney.”

  “Were you?” His glance was suddenly amused. “He’s a very ardent admirer of yours, isn’t he?”

  “He thinks I sing well — yes,” she said confusedly.

  “Don’t we all?” retorted Jonathan with a laugh. “Had Warrender anything interesting to say to you?”

  “Yes, indeed!” she seized eagerly on an unembarrassing topic. “He wants me to go to London next week and sing for Dermot Deane. He thinks I should try to get him to represent me.”

  “You couldn’t do better. And with Warrender’s recommendation there isn’t much doubt about Deane’s reaction. But, Anna —” he put his hand lightly round her arm — “don’t let him talk you into anything that would clash with the Canadian tour.”

  With an effort, she forced a slight, protesting laugh.

  “Oh, I’m not expecting fierce competition for my services at this stage. Perhaps no one else will want me for anything. And even yo
u might have second thoughts, in certain circumstances.”

  “What nonsense! And in what circumstances, for heaven’s sake?”

  “Oh, one never knows.” She gave a careless little shrug, which somehow removed his hand from her arm. “Here comes Rod, with my champagne.”

  She knew that Jonathan’s glance was on her with a sort of puzzled disquiet. But she smiled determinedly at Rod as he apologised for having left her for so long, and pretended that all her attention was on him. After a moment she realised that Jonathan had moved away. Possibly, of course, he felt faintly uncomfortable in the company of Rod and herself together.

  Soon after that there began to be a stir of departure. The choir were making their good-byes and moving out to the waiting coach, and several of the other guests said they must go too.

  “Rod, I’m suddenly dreadfully tired,” Anna said. “Do you think you could drive Dad and me down home?”

  “I was going to anyway,” Rod assured her. “Shall I go and detach your father from Warrender? They seem to have become great buddies.”

  “I know. It’s the most wonderful thing that ever happened to Dad.” She smiled a little remorsefully. “It’s a shame to cut his pleasure short.”

  But at that moment her father caught her glance and came over to say on his own account that he thought it was time they made a move. That made things easy for her. She only had to have a word with Teresa, thanking her for her hospitality, and also for the great chance which the evening’s concert had meant for her.

  “Don’t thank me!” Teresa smiled with that touch of graciousness which did nothing to warm the heart. “The thanks are due to you and your father. I can’t wait to see the reviews. Though I don’t expect there will be anything in the London papers until Thursday. There wouldn’t be time. Have a lazy time at home tomorrow. You’ve earned it.”

  It was a charming dismissal — but a dismissal. And then Anna was on the way out with Rod and her father. With relief or regret — she was not quite sure which — there was no need for more than a casual little wave of good-bye to Jonathan across the room.