In answer to her inquiry, he said that Mr. Wilmore was in the garden, and if Miss Ransome would go through the drawing-room and across the terrace she would probably find him there.
Miss Ransome went, a little relieved in her mind at this friendly reception. And then, as she entered the drawing-room, a graceful figure uncurled itself from the sofa, and Sara Fernie stood up and said, 'Hello! What brings you here?'
CHAPTER SEVEN
The shock of finding Sara Fernie almost literally in her path momentarily robbed Joanna of speech. Then, with a tremendous effort, she rallied her defences.
'I came down to visit my aunt,' she explained. 'And as Mr. Wilmore had asked me to call in if I were in the district, I came along.'
'I see.' Sara's amused glance passed over her in a way that was singularly unnerving. 'You'll find him in the garden, if you want anything.'
'So I've been told.' Joanna gave her a curt little nod and went out on to the terrace. But, as she descended the few steps to the garden, Sara's last words rang unpleasantly in her ears. It was almost as though the other girl had penetrated her thoughts and knew that she did indeed want something desperately.
Joanna had not entirely recovered her composure by the time she came upon Mr. Wilmore. But the familiar kindness of his welcome, and his undoubted pleasure in seeing her, calmed her quivering nerves.
'I was just telling your aunt last week that I hoped you would come and see me if you were visiting her,' he said.
'She passed on the message. Which is why I plucked up the courage to come,' Joanna assured him.
'Did it require any effort of courage?' He raised his eyebrows in protest. 'I didn't realize I was such an ogre.'
'Oh, you're not !' cried Joanna. 'Only, when someone has been exceptionally kind already, one feels
awful if one has to come and ask for a further favour. And—and that's what I've come to do.'
'Even that doesn't call for an effort of courage between friends,' he replied charmingly, 'What is it? My collection is entirely at your disposal for any further study. Is that it?'
'N-not this time,' she confessed. 'It's something more personal and - difficult.' And then, diffidently but with a certain degree of resolution, she told him of Oscar Warrender's belief that she had the qualities to score a great success in a work as yet unheard and unseen.
'He said - I have to tell you this in order to justify my presuming to come to you - that if I worked hard and had the right coaching I might well find myself famous overnight. But very specialized teaching would be necessary, and the ideal person to give that would be an old dancer called Tamara Volnikov—'
'I remember her very well,' Mr. Wilmore put in. 'Extraordinary creature! Unlikeable, but an undoubted genius.'
'Sir Oscar took me to her. She gave me what seemed to me a most perfunctory sort of test and then instantly agreed to take me. She said some strange and complimentary things about me which I still find hard to believe, but which Sir Oscar cautiously endorsed. And the upshot was that if - if the money can be found I shall become her pupil for some intensive months of training. Both she and Sir Oscar seem confident that I'm worthy of their efforts.'
'Then, my dear, there can be no question about it,' was the emphatic reply. 'I find it unlikely that either of them could be wrong, and quite impossible that they both could. What is troubling you?'
'Well - the cost.' Joanna flushed. 'Sir Oscar insists that the work must be so intensive that he refuses to let me even look for a job. And although my mother and I would naturally have expected to contribute towards the fees, something disastrous has happened at this vital moment. You've heard of the Home and Overseas crash?'
'Yes, indeed!' From his grim expression she conjectured that friends of his in the district had probably been among the substantial losers Aunt Georgina had mentioned.
'Well, I'm afraid Mother lost a frightful amount of money in that and I can't even tell her I need extra money at this moment. She couldn't hope to raise it and would be heartbroken that I should have to refuse this unique chance.'
'Yes, I see.' He looked grave but did not, she noted with embarrassed dismay, immediately offer to implement any promises of help which he had mentioned earlier.
'Sir Oscar suggested—' she cleared her throat nervously - 'he said you had been good enough to offer to help financially if I should need it. And I - I thought you wouldn't mind my coming and telling you about the situation—'
Her voice trailed away and she wondered if it were only her miserable self-consciousness which made her think the slight pause of some significance.
'My dear child, of course I'll help.' He spoke with considerable firmness when he did reply. 'Do you know how much is involved?'
'N-not yet.' Joanna choked slightly in her overwhelming relief. 'Madame Volnikov was going to write to Sir Oscar. He is the one who has the overall direction of the plan.'
'I'll get in touch with him tomorrow - or perhaps even this evening,' Mr. Wilmore promised. 'Now why on earth are you crying, you silly girl?'
'I'm not crying - really.' Joanna fumbled for her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. 'It's silly, I know. But I felt awful asking, and now the relief—'
And at that moment Sara came sauntering round the corner of the tall yew hedge and stopped short at the sight of them.
'Uncle Justin, what are you doing? - reducing your visitor to tears!'
'Nothing of the kind,' retorted Mr. Wilmore, rather brusquely for him. 'And what are you doing, out here without a coat? If your cold was sufficiently severe to keep you away from the theatre you certainly shouldn't be wandering about the garden on a chilly afternoon without a wrap.'
'You're right, as always.' She leaned forward and gave him the lightest of kisses, and then turned obediently towards the house, an odd little smile on her lips.
'I'll phone Warrender at the first opportunity,' Mr. Wilmore promised, taking up the conversation where Sara had interrupted it. 'And I think I can promise that everything will be arranged satisfactorily.'
'You're so wonderfully good and generous! I hardly know what to say.' Joanna's smile was still a trifle tremulous. 'But I want you to know that what I'm asking for is a loan. If I do justify everyone's hopes and eventually score a success, I should want to return the money at the first opportunity.'
'We'll see about that when the time comes.' He laughed indulgently and, taking her by the arm, walked back with her to the house, where tea was just being brought into the drawing-room.
Here Sara joined them, of course. And although she made herself pleasant, and even asked interested questions about Joanna's career, it was impossible not to feel vaguely uncomfortable in her presence, and to be glad when it was time to go.
In the hall, where Mr. Wilmore took the kindest leave of her, Joanna earnestly impressed on him the necessity for secrecy about the whole project until plans were much further forward. Then, after a brief call once more on Aunt Georgina, she caught an early evening bus home, feeling that, agitating though certain aspects of her visit had been, she could now venture to look into the future with more confidence than she had felt for some time.
As she let herself into the house her mother came out into the hall, and announced with an air' of satisfaction that Elliot Cheam had telephoned only ten minutes ago.
'I promised you would call back if you arrived home within an hour.'
'Elliot Cheam?' An unexpected thrill of pleasure and excitement warred for a moment with the familiar sense of uneasiness which she associated with him whenever she had been anywhere near his uncle. 'What did he want?'
'I think he wanted you to meet him for dinner somewhere.'
'Did he?' Again that wave of elation. 'What for?'
'What for? ' repeated her mother. 'For the pleasure of your company, I suppose, you funny girl. Why does an attractive young man usually ask a nice girl to dine with him?'
'There are quite a number of reasons,' replied Joanna, but she was smiling ha
ppily. 'As I told you,
he's deeply involved with his leading lady—' Then she stopped and, for the first time, wondered if there had been something more than a mild indisposition behind Sara's visit to Wilmore Manor.
She went to the telephone without another word and dialled Elliot's number.
'Elliot Cheam,' said his voice. 'Is that Joanna?'
'Yes. How did you know?'
'I'm psychic,' he said. And when she laughed he added, an unusually persuasive note in his voice, 'Are you too tired after your journey to come out to dinner with me?'
'No, of course not.' Joanna was suddenly aware that she had never felt less tired in her life. 'Who told you I'd been on a journey?'
'Your mother. You've been to see Aunt Georgina, and also my uncle, I understand. How did you find him?'
Nothing could have been more normal than the tone of his question, and the complete absence of that all-too-familiar suspicion in his voice warmed her heart as nothing - and she realized suddenly, nothing - else could have done.
'He was in fine form, and just as kind as always. I'll tell you about it.' As she said the words she knew of course that she could tell him absolutely nothing of significance about their conversation. 'Would you like me to meet you somewhere or—?'
'No. I'll collect you in half an hour. Does that suit you?'
She said it did, and then rang off and stood there smiling for a moment, in such a mood of happy reflection that her mother, hearing absolute silence after the replacing of the receiver, called out, Is everything all right, dear?'
'Oh, yes, Mother.' She came and stood in the sitting-room doorway. 'It couldn't be more all right!' And then, without waiting to enlarge on that, she dashed upstairs to change into the prettiest dress she possessed.
She was ready when he arrived. And his first glance, though it passed over her briefly, told her that she had chosen well. He exchanged a few gay, bantering remarks with her mother, and then he and Joanna went off together.
As on that first occasion, he asked her if there %vere any special place she would like to choose, and this time she answered without hesitation, 'The same place as before, please.'
'Why?' He looked amused.
'Because it's a lovely place, and because I met the Warrenders there, and because for the first time you gave me the impression that perhaps you were not going to dislike me after all.'
'All excellent reasons,' he admitted with a laugh. 'And, a. propos the Warrenders, did he ever let you know what he thought of your Fiora?'
'Oh - oh, yes.' She was faintly startled to find herself immediately so near the forbidden subject. 'He telephoned the next day and congratulated me. I think he still found my acting more interesting than my singing.'
'Did he?' Elliot shot her an interested glance. 'Well, it's of quite a high order, I would say. But you have to remember that speaking a part is a very different matter from singing it.'
'I'm sure it is,' Joanna said earnestly, and changed the subject by saying, 'Speaking of real actresses, Sara Fernie was at Wilmore Manor when I looked in there.'
'Oh - was she?' He smiled a trifle grimly and, to her surprise, pursued the matter no further until they were seated opposite each other at the same table as before. Then he asked, as he studied the menu, 'And what had Sara to say about me?'
'About you?' Joanna looked surprised. 'She didn't mention you. She and I are not quite on those terms, you know.'
'No, I don't know, : What sort of terms do you mean?'
‘I don't think she would honour me with any girlish confidences. What's the matter? Have you quarrelled again?'
He didn't answer that immediately. Then, without looking up, he said, 'I tried out your theory. The theory that with the Sara type of girl it's healthy to display some indifference if she starts to play up.'
'Oh?' Joanna sounded doubtful, 'And did it work?'
'Depends what you mean by working, my dear.' He did look up then. 'She made me pretty wild about something - it doesn't matter what, but it involved my authority at the theatre - and so I put on a splendid display of indifference.'
'With what result?' Joanna looked amused.
'With the result that suddenly I found I was not putting on a display at all. Quite simply, I was indifferent. The spell was somehow broken.'
'But not just because you'd been feigning indifference?' Joanna was very slightly shocked. 'One's emotions don't work like that. At least, only if they're skin-deep. And I don't think your feelings for Sara were just skin-deep, were they?'
'No.' He shook his head. 'I was quite crazily in love with her at one time. Uncritically in love, I suppose you could say. It went on even after I began to see things about her that didn't fit into my picture of her. This latest upset wasn't the first row we had had, by a long chalk. I thought the familiar pattern would repeat itself and that we would make it up. But when I stood back from the scene, as you might say, while I built up my pretence of indifference, I suddenly - no, perhaps it was gradually - saw that, somewhere along the road, I had lost the real feeling. I was just going through the motions. The indifference was not a pretence. It was a natural expression of what my true feelings had become.'
'I see,' said Joanna slowly. 'Do you want me to commiserate with you on losing an ideal or congratulate you on losing your chains?'
'Oh, congratulate me,' he retorted lightly. 'The sense of freedom is almost intoxicating. I had to celebrate it in some way; that's why I asked you to dinner. You seemed to be the natural person to share the celebration.'
' I did?' She sounded a little indignant. T don't specialize in rescuing besotted young men.'
At that he laughed so much that she could not help smiling too. He was so extraordinarily handsome when he threw back his head like that and his eyes sparkled with amusement.
'You have the most wonderful turn of phrase at times,' he declared. 'That's one reason why you're such a delightful companion.'
'Am I that?' She smiled slightly into her glass, because all at once it was a little difficult to meet his eyes.
'Of course, darling,' he said. And she knew that this was not a casual 'darling' - the type of endearment that was bandied about so easily between people in his world. This time he meant it. She was a darling to him. And the thought warmed her very heart and made the whole world a lovely place to live in.
She wished she could have told him about the other wonderful things which had happened to her in the last few days. The incredible offer from Oscar Warrender. the unbelievable things Madame Volnikov had said to her; even, in that expansive moment, all about the visit to his uncle and the superb, characteristic generosity with which he was prepared to make the whole miracle work.
But then she remembered how essential it was that all this should remain secret for a while longer from even her nearest and dearest. And as that phrase formed in her mind she gave a small, almost inaudible gasp, for yet anothing shining discovery opened out before her. Elliot was her nearest and dearest.
Small though the gasp was, he must have heard it, for he asked softly, 'What's the matter, Joanna?'
She shook her head.
'Nothing is the matter. Everything is - is wonderful.'
'Is it?' He reached for her hand as it lay on the table and imprisoned it in his. 'Tell me why everything is wonderful.'
'Oh—' She glanced up quickly then, and realized that she had to give some sort of explanation for her impulsive' words. She could not say, 'I've just discovered that I'm in love with you.' She could not even say, 'What did you mean when you called me "darling" in that special tone of voice?'
And then it came to her that perhaps she could legitimately tell him of one aspect of her dramatically changed fortunes. Something that would account for her air of suppressed excitement, and her inability to conceal the magic of her present mood. She could not tell him much, of course. Her promise to the intimidating Oscar Warrender prevented that. But she could mention just one thing, in a general sort of
way. And so she smiled at him with eager candour and said,
'I've been longing to tell someone! And, since you've said such nice things about me, I'm going to tell you. But it's a secret for the moment, Elliot. Promise!'
'I promise.' He looked intrigued.
'Have you ever heard of Tamara Volnikov?'
'Of course - the dancer. What about her?'
'She's going to give me lessons - in mime and acting and general stage training. Oscar Warrender is arranging it. He thinks I'm worthy of such lessons.'
'Warrender thinks so?' Elliot looked incredulous and, for some reason, not entirely pleased. 'Is he paying?' he asked abruptly.
'No,' she asserted steadily. 'He's getting some wealthy patron of the arts to do that.'
'It's going to have to be a pretty wealthy patron to satisfy that old cormorant. Is it anyone you know personally?'
'No,' lied Joanna coolly, though by now she was wishing she had never embarked on this conversation.
'You know why I'm asking, don't you?'
'No.' She shook her head, and Volnikov herself could not have looked more candid and innocent.
'Because the man who will pay out that sort of money usually wants something in return.'
'Don't be an idiot!' In her relief at his failure to make the obvious guess she actually laughed convincingly. 'How do you know it's a man? It may be a woman, for all I know. Anyway, I'm leaving that to Sir Oscar. And don't you go asking him questions! He'd kill me if he thought I had so much as breathed a word to you or anyone else.'
'Why?' asked Elliot flatly.
'Why?' She groped again for a convincing reply. 'Because he has some idea of following his own hunch about me, I suppose, but wouldn't like it if I proved him wrong. Isn't that rather the way Oscar Warrender ticks?'
'Ye-es, I suppose it is.' Elliot was more than half convinced now, she saw, and insensibly both of them relaxed, like two adversaries who suddenly realized there was little reason for them to measure up to each other after all. 'I'm very glad for your sake, my dear,' he said much more gently. 'But you understand why I had to ask those questions, don't you?'
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