When Love Is Blind (Warrender Saga Book 3)

by Mary Burchell

  ‘Yes!’ Antoinette’s voice was warm with affection and pride. ‘He has self-discipline — more than I’ve ever seen in anyone else. Wasn’t it terribly moving, that last scene?’

  ‘Very,’ agreed the conductor briefly. ‘It was a risk, though. The sort that even a great artist should hesitate to take. With the reaction just a shade the other way we might have had the hysteria of a revivalist meeting on our hands.’

  ‘I don’t think he thought about that,’ Antoinette said simply. ‘I think it was just that he was so immeasurably thankful for what had happened and had to say so in his own terms.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ replied the conductor. ‘Perhaps.’ Then, as they turned into Floral Street, he added, ‘Do you mind waiting here in the car for a few minutes while I go up and fetch my wife?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  So Antoinette sat alone in the darkness of Oscar Warrender’s car, her glance idly on the distant group of fans round yet another stage door, her thoughts still milling round the fantastic events of the evening, from the moment when he had clutched at her dress until he came off the platform and kissed her hands and said, ‘I wish I could see you properly. But that will come — that will come.’

  All her hopes, all her fears, were implicit in those short sentences. She must wish too that full sight would be restored to him. But if it were — he would know the truth.

  At that moment she saw the crowd round the stage door part respectfully, and Oscar Warrender came back towards the car, accompanied now by a smiling, fair-haired girl in a magnificent mink coat. They were talking together with the eager intimacy of people who share most things with zest and pleasure. And, concerned though she was with her own affairs, Antoinette looked with interest at the girl who was said to be not only Oscar Warrender’s greatest operatic discovery but the love of his life.

  There was an indescribably winning air of vitality and warmth about her and, even as she got into the car, she greeted Antoinette with the frank eagerness of an old friend.

  ‘You’re Lewis Freemont’s secretary, aren’t you? And you’re the one who’s most responsible for getting him back to his career again.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ disclaimed Antoinette quickly.

  ‘Oscar says so. And he never throws idle compliments around. Do you, darling?’ she added as her husband came round and got into the driving seat beside her.

  ‘Do I what?’

  ‘Throw idle compliments around.’

  ‘Certainly not. They’re the curse of the profession. But what are we talking about? Your singing?’

  ‘Oh, no! There’s only one possible topic tonight — the wonderful news about Lewis. I’m so happy for him. Tell me all about it, Miss — Burney, isn’t it?’ She turned to Antoinette in the back seat. ‘All about it. Oscar gave me only the barest outlines.’

  ‘There hasn’t been time to do much more,’ said her husband drily. ‘Will you join us for supper, Miss Burney?’ Afraid of being an intruder, Antoinette began to make polite excuses, but Anthea Warrender interrupted her.

  ‘Please come. I’m always excited and tremendously wide awake after a performance. And I can see Oscar is beginning to feel the strain of the evening, which means that he’ll get more and more uncommunicative, and I shan’t ever have a first-hand account of what must have been one of the most exciting scenes that ever happened in the musical world.’

  So Antoinette yielded, not at all unwillingly, and went with them to a small, exclusive Italian place where they were evidently very well known. And while Oscar Warrender listened and interjected no more than an occasional comment, Antoinette gave the other girl a clear and detailed account of what had happened.

  ‘Then even now he can see only hazily?’

  'Yes. But there’s all the difference between that and — total eclipse,’ said Antoinette.

  ‘Total eclipse! What an odd and telling phrase,’ exclaimed Anthea with a slight shudder.

  'He used it himself, the very first day I went to him as his secretary,’ Antoinette said slowly. ‘I never forgot it. He said it came from an opera — ’

  ‘Handel’s "Samson”,’ put in Oscar Warrender almost automatically.

  ‘Yes, that was it. He said he kept on recalling Samson staggering on to the stage and beginning that air. And he said that until then he hadn’t had the slightest conception of what it really meant.’

  For a second they were all silent, savouring again the full force of the disaster which had fallen on the man they all, in varying degrees, liked or loved. Then Anthea said, ‘But now that’s over — over! At least he can see something again. Will that be all he can see, Oscar?’ she turned to her husband as though he knew the answer to everything. ‘Or may he get back his full sight?’

  The conductor shook his head slightly,

  ‘My dear, how can I say? Only an ophthalmic expert could venture an opinion on that. The man we called out of the audience at the Festival Hall when the accident happened seemed to think it very possible. But I don’t even know how well qualified he was to pronounce. Only time will tell.’

  ‘But we’ll go on hoping! I believe in hoping, don’t you, Miss Burney? We’ll hope with every bit of concentration we’ve got,’ declared Anthea passionately.

  ‘Yes,’ said Antoinette slowly. ‘We’ll go on hoping.’

  And long after they had taken her home and she had told the dramatic story over again to Rosamund, she lay awake in bed, staring into the darkness and thinking, ‘I’ll go on hoping.’

  But for what she was to hope she hardly knew.

  The next morning all the newspapers of course carried a full account of the concert and the sensational announcement which had been made.

  ‘You’d better be along at your Lewis Freemont’s place in good time,’ observed Rosamund over breakfast. ‘The reporters are probably already champing round the block, trying to get statements and fresh information. I must say I feel a bit like champing myself.’

  ‘You?’ said Antoinette, laughing. ‘You’ve always disclaimed the slightest interest in him.’

  ‘Oh, well — it’s the element of human drama that intrigues one, even if one doesn’t know or specially like him. I suppose you yourself feel desperately involved?’

  ‘Desperately,’ agreed Antoinette, but so sombrely that she gave a much deeper meaning to the word than Rosamund had intended.

  ‘Oh, come! It’s not an occasion for literal desperation. After all, this is a happy business, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ But Antoinette sighed involuntarily, and Rosamund looked at her curiously as she slipped on her coat and made ready to go.

  ‘I suppose I’m to expect you when I see you?’ she said, but good-humouredly.

  ‘I should be home reasonably early,’ countered Antoinette. ‘But I can’t say for sure. I don’t know quite what I’ll find when I — when I get to his place.’ And not all her self-control was sufficient to keep a slight tremor from her voice.

  Early though it was when she arrived at Lewis Freemont’s flat, his manager, Gordon Everleigh, was already there, walking up and down the long studio drawing-room with an air of restless expectancy.

  ‘Hello, Miss Burney. Freemont isn’t awake yet, they tell me, which is probably just as well. Last night must have been a hell of a strain, and if he can rest well that’s all to the good.’

  ‘What is the latest report?’ Antoinette asked eagerly. ‘I came away last night before his own doctor had examined him. I thought it was best. He’d been surrounded by people all the evening, and what he needed was peace.’

  ‘Quite right. I understand Dr. Butler wasn’t willing to commit himself to any firm opinion. They’ve got Sir Everard Blakin coming this morning. Until then no statement can be given out, of course. That’s really why I’m here. I thought you might find some of this tough to handle without a man to back you.’

  ‘How kind of you! I’m so glad you’re here — and so early too.’

  ‘Well, that w
as Warrender’s idea.’ Gordon Everleigh grinned suddenly. ‘He phoned me at some unearthly hour and suggested I got along here. He seemed to think you needed some support, and he has a rehearsal this morning himself.’

  ‘He thinks of everything,’ exclaimed Antoinette gratefully. ‘He’s really a wonderful man, isn’t he?’

  ‘Hm-m — ’ Gordon Everleigh rubbed his chin meditatively and smiled again — ‘That’s a matter of opinion. I have heard him described as a monster, but that was by an angry prima donna who had failed to get her own way. I suppose it depends if you keep on the right side of him or not.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Antoinette agreed. And then she realized that they were just making conversation, and she forced herself to open the post and deal with one or two routine matters.

  Presently Mrs. Partridge, the housekeeper, looked in to say that her master was awake and had had breakfast, and if Mr. Everleigh liked to go in and see him he would be welcome.

  ‘He’s staying in bed for the time being,’ she said. ‘Dr. Butler wanted him to do so until Sir Everard has seen him.’

  ‘Is he — can he — ’ Antoinette hardly knew how to form her question. ‘Mrs. Partridge, can he see any better this morning?’

  ‘He didn’t say so, Miss Burney. Only that he can see.’

  Gordon Everleigh went away to the bedroom then, and Antoinette typed a few letters and answered, in the most diplomatic way possible, some pressing telephone calls. Then, just as she was wondering what else she could do, the telephone bell rang again, and when she picked up the receiver it was Charmian St. Leger’s voice which said smoothly,

  ‘Is that you, Miss Burney?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs. St. Leger.’ Antoinette strove to make that as coolly official as possible.

  ‘Oh, you recognized my voice?’ There was a charming little laugh from the other end of the wire. But as Antoinette offered no comment on that, the well-pitched voice went on, ‘I’ve seen the news in the papers, of course. Is it — true?’ Even then she could not resist the affecting little break in her voice. ‘Has Lewis really recovered his sight?’

  ‘To a small degree. How far that can be improved one doesn’t yet know.’

  There was a pause, then Mrs. St. Leger said, ‘It’s rather awkward for you, isn’t it?’

  ‘I haven’t found it so.’

  ‘I mean, it will be if he completely regains his sight.’

  ‘That’s hardly the primary consideration, Mrs. St. Leger. Was that what you rang up to say?’ asked Antoinette coldly.

  ‘Oh, no.’ Again that slight laugh. ‘Please tell him that my thoughts are very much with him and that I hope I shan’t much longer have to communicate with him through a third person. Can I trust you to give him the whole of that message?’

  ‘Certainly.’ Antoinette’s tone was icy.

  ‘Well, unhappily, one has to question the integrity of anyone who has altered information to suit herself on other occasions,’ Mrs. St. Leger explained plaintively. ‘I hope I can trust you this time, Miss Burney.’ And then the line went dead.

  Antoinette uttered a word she seldom used and hung up the receiver. As she did so she heard the sound of a mellow, resonant voice in the hall, and gathered that the famous Sir Everard Blakin had arrived during her telephone conversation with Mrs. St. Leger.

  A minute or two later Gordon Everleigh came back into the room and said, ‘The Great Man is here.’

  ‘How did you find Mr. Freemont? Was he cheerful?’

  ‘Very. I wish I were half as cheerful. I thought I had no nerves left. In my profession you go mad if you allow yourself that indulgence. But today I feel as nervous as a kitten.’

  Antoinette felt so too. But she managed to hide the fact, and Gordon Everleigh went on moodily,

  ‘It isn’t only that he’s a great artist. He’s shown such guts over this. One can’t bear the thought of a disappointment now. And anyway, I like him,’ he added after a long pause.

  ‘So do I,’ said Antoinette.

  ‘I know you do. You ought to marry him, you know,’ remarked Gordon Everleigh, and laughed.

  ‘Oh, please don’t say such silly things!’

  ‘I mean it,’ declared the manager more seriously. ‘You’ve done more for him than anyone else over this, and he’s well aware of it. He was talking just now about his accident — about that strange girl who caused it, or so he insists. And he said, “Isn’t it strange that one’s life can be ruined by one girl and rebuilt by another?” That was a pretty handsome tribute to you, I thought.’

  ‘He — said that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He does hate that — that other girl, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Well, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I don’t altogether believe in her,’ Antoinette managed to say. ‘I think he just attributed all sorts of evil intentions to some perfectly harmless creature.’

  ‘You’d never convince him of that.’ Gordon Everleigh shook his head and smiled. ‘I hadn’t realized how constantly he still thinks of her. He says that one of the reasons he’s so thankful about the return of his sight is that now he has a chance of finding her.’

  ‘It’s a ridiculous obsession,’ cried Antoinette desperately. And when Gordon Everleigh looked at her in astonishment, she passed her hands over her cold, pale cheeks and muttered, ‘I’m sorry. I think I’m getting jittery too.’

  But after that she managed to appear calm. Until they heard Sir Everard and Dr. Butler come out of the bedroom, and then she said feverishly,

  ‘Go and speak to them. Find out what Sir Everard has to say. As Mr. Freemont’s manager you’re perfectly entitled to ask.’

  So Gordon Everleigh went out into the hall, and Antoinette buried her face in her hands and sat very still at her desk, shaken to the core by her mingled hopes and fears.

  He seemed a long while gone, and Antoinette felt strangely numb by the time she heard the front door close. Then a moment later Gordon Everleigh came back into the room, looking so relaxed and cheerful that Antoinette felt like a drab ghost beside him.

  He must have felt the contrast too, for he exclaimed, ‘Good heavens, don’t look like that! It’s good news, not bad. Blakin won’t commit himself absolutely, of course. They never will. But he’s strongly hopeful that a very large measure of sight can be restored. He wants Freemont in his own nursing home and under his immediate care for a week or so. There may even be a minor operation — ’

  ‘Nothing that involves one’s sight is minor,’ interrupted Antoinette almost irritably.

  ‘Well, that’s just a manner of speaking. Anyway, on balance, Blakin is very hopeful. And if that’s so I don’t know why we should be otherwise.’

  ‘No, indeed!’ said a voice from the doorway. And, as they both uttered exclamations and turned, Lewis Freemont came slowly into the room, feeling for anything in his path, it was true, but with already a much greater degree of confidence than he had ever displayed since he became blind.

  Antoinette started up and went to him quickly. But he smiled and put her aside, though gently.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘let me do it myself. You can’t imagine the fascination of being able to see where things are even dimly when you haven’t been able to see them at all for so long. — Is that you, Gordon?’ He turned accurately in his manager’s direction, though obviously without being able fully to identify him.

  ‘Yes.’ Everleigh came forward. ‘I’ve just been talking to Blakin, and I hear that you’re going into his nursing home for treatment. As far as these cautious experts will ever commit themselves — ’

  ‘They can’t, you know,’ interrupted the other man with a smile. ‘It’s only the confident amateur who knows all the answers. In his field as well as mine.’

  ‘Well, that’s true,’ Gordon Everleigh conceded with a laugh. ‘But he did seem to think there was a good chance of success.’

  ‘So he told me.’ By now Lewis Freemont had found his way to his usual chair, and he sank into it with a certain a
ir of relief, Antoinette noticed, like a man who had successfully accomplished a rather daring feat.

  With difficulty she resisted the desire to go to him and put a comforting and congratulatory arm round him. Instead she merely asked, ‘When will you be going into the nursing home?’

  ‘This afternoon.’

  ‘So soon?’

  ‘It can’t be too soon, Toni, if it’s really going to mean the restoration of my sight.’

  ‘No, of course not.

  She was silent after that, and the two men discussed the reports of the previous night’s concert and — on the optimistic insistence of Gordon Everleigh — the possibilities that would open out if something like full sight were restored.

  Everything was on a determinedly cheerful note. But after Everleigh had taken his leave, Antoinette’s employer sat silent, a very thoughtful expression on his handsome, rather worn face. Then at last he said,

  ‘You’ll stay on here while I’m away, won’t you?’

  ‘There won’t be anything much for me to do,’ she pointed out.

  She had not thought until that moment of anything but staying. But his words suggested to her that this might be her one chance of making a logical break with him. He, however, evidently had no such idea.

  ‘I’d rather leave everything in your hands,’ he said almost impatiently. ‘What else should I do? And anyway, I couldn’t imagine your not being here when I come home.’

  ‘I’ll be here,’ she promised him. ‘Of course I’ll be here.’

  ‘And then — ’ he smiled slowly — ‘if Blakin has done his work properly, I shall really see you at last.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said sadly, ‘you’ll really see me at last.’

  But he was too much absorbed in his own bright hopes to notice anything odd in her tone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  During the week following the Festival Hall concert, Antoinette was torn by conflicting emotions. With all her heart she longed for Lewis Freemont’s sight to be fully restored. Yet she dreaded inexpressibly the moment when he would look at her and know her for the girl he blamed for his blindness.