‘I yield to no one in my admiration of my sister,’ he said. ‘Not once but twice she has been the victim of misfortune through no fault of her own, and each time she has overcome her difficulties magnificently. Her first suitor deserted her as soon as he discovered that she was no longer in a position to bring him a fortune. And when at last she found another love and married, her husband was killed within a few months of their wedding day. Most other women who found themselves widowed so soon after marriage, and in the middle of a first pregnancy, would simply have gone into a decline; but not my sister. Her present life is satisfying for herself, for Robert, for her patients. But I’m not wrong, am I, in thinking that it offers little to you? Your guardian can perhaps not be expected to realize herself how narrowly she confines you. It’s easier for an outsider like myself to see that the time has come when you should begin to live your own life.’
‘But I ought not to make such a decision without consulting her,’ said Alexa.
‘Of course not. But on the other hand, to discuss what at this moment is only a vague proposal can be of little value either to her or to you. She cannot be expected to approve an arrangement of which no details are available; and you can hardly hope to convince her of its value until you too know what is offered.’ He thought for a moment. ‘My acquaintance, Mr Glanville, will need to meet you before he can be expected to offer his support. He will want to hear you sing. And if he approves, you will have to have a second audition in front of a teacher. The best kind of coaching would come from someone who accepts a pupil not so much for the fees as for the pleasure of developing a talent. But that could all be arranged within a short period. At the end of twenty-four hours in London you would either have met with a polite refusal – in which case my sister would not need to make any decision – or you would have a firm offer of training which you could discuss with her in detail. In that case you could travel straight from London to Elm Lodge if you wished.’
‘Yes,’ said Alexa. ‘I ought to do that.’
‘I could telephone to Mr Glanville from my office tomorrow,’ he told her. ‘There is a need for haste in the matter, because I know he is shortly to travel to Scotland for some shooting. Would you like me to undertake that?’
That she still hesitated was to her credit, he supposed; or perhaps it merely meant that she was young and unsure of herself. As a businessman he knew that arrangements such as the one he had offered ought to be clinched at once. But Alexa was accustomed to accepting Margaret’s advice and probably now feared her disapproval. William allowed time for Alexa to consider that if she said No she would be rejecting the best hope of achieving her ambition that she was ever likely to enjoy, in a manner which must be final: while if she said Yes, she committed herself only to an audition. The possibility of a subsequent training was one which her guardian would still have time to forbid.
William knew what Alexa would decide. The dashing of her hopes of marriage must inevitably throw her back on her own talents and ambitions, for the unexpected disappearance of the young man she loved would make it intolerable for her to return to a quiet country life, with nothing to which she could look forward. If the girl had any courage or character at all – and, whether he admitted it openly or not, she was a Lorimer – she was bound to accept the challenge.
He waited, and saw the lost, unhappy look with which she had greeted the news of Matthew’s flight gradually replaced by a determination which showed in her eyes and the firmness of her lips. She looked up at him trustingly.
‘Thank you very much, Mr Lorimer,’ she said.
6
An unsophisticated girl who has spent all her life in the same sheltered surroundings is apt to be either apprehensive or intolerant when she first ventures outside them. This was not, however, Alexa’s situation. As a small child she had moved rapidly from one set of lodgings to another, each less comfortable than the one before, and had learned to adapt herself quickly to her surroundings. Then, when her fortunes were at their lowest, she had been rescued by Margaret and taken to Brinsley House. Here she was expected to behave in accordance with rules she had never learned and to fit into a domestic hierarchy which seemed at first to have no place for her. A dull child might have succumbed to bewilderment but, because Alexa was observant and imitative, she adapted herself as quickly as before. For this reason she felt no kind of social anxiety as she stood on the pavement of Park Lane and looked up at the imposing façade of Glanville House. There would be more servants here than at Brinsley House – and because their employer was a nobleman, they would be haughtier – but she was not frightened of them.
William Lorimer had explained the position to her before she left Bristol. The head of the family, Lord Glanville, lived in his London home only when Parliament was sitting, spending the rest of the year either abroad or at Blaize, his country house. He was unlikely to be in residence when Alexa arrived. If by chance he was there, he would formally be her host. But the gentleman who had promised to receive Alexa was his younger brother, the Honourable Duncan Glanville.
She rang the bell and was reassured to find herself expected. As soon as she gave her name the butler summoned a footman to show her to a bedroom and carry up her luggage. Although her host did not put in an appearance to welcome her, the way in which her arrival was taken for granted was a relief. As the train chugged eastward that afternoon Alexa had felt a good many qualms of fear. She had no cause to distrust her guardian’s brother: yet the kindness of his offer seemed so much out of character that she continually searched her mind to discover some way in which he might be deceiving her. But she could not think of any reason why he should be unkind, any more than she understood why he had chosen to help her.
She had concluded in the end that he was trying to make up for his elder son’s behaviour. Alexa had found it difficult to hide the fact that she was in love with Matthew. Perhaps his father had noticed it and, angry on her account as well as his own, resolved to make what amends he could. At least it seemed that her worst fear had not been realized – that she would arrive in London without a penny in her pocket to find that no one was prepared to receive her.
When she was ready she went downstairs, as the butler had instructed her. She was wearing the new day dress that Sophie had bought her at Margaret’s request, and her long hair was coiled on top of her head. She hoped that the dignity it gave her would conceal her nervousness. It came as a second reassurance to hear, as she walked slowly down the curved staircase into the hall, that someone was playing the piano extremely well. It might mean that the Honourable Duncan Glanville was an accomplished amateur musician, or else that he already had a protégé: in either case it confirmed the description of him as a patron of the arts.
It was easy to choose between her guesses. The fashionable clothes and arrogant expression of the pianist marked him out at once as a rich man. He glanced at Alexa as she appeared in the doorway of the drawing room, but did not interrupt his playing, merely nodding his head to indicate that she should take a chair.
As Alexa sat down, she saw that he already had an audience. A woman of about forty was lying on a chaise longue, her legs covered with a rug, although the afternoon was warm. She showed her weakness in the way she raised her fan as a gesture of applause as the piece came to an end.
The pianist stood up and bowed formally over Alexa’s hand without troubling to introduce himself.
‘Fanny,’ he said to the woman on the chaise longue. ‘May I present Miss Alexa Lorimer to you? Miss Lorimer, Lady Glanville.’
Lady Glanville smiled as she acknowledged the introduction. Her expression was kind, but Alexa could tell from her eyes that she was in pain.
Alexa turned back towards her host and found that he was looking her up and down in a way that no one had ever done before.
Too thin!’ he said, and she flushed with shame and embarrassment.
‘Really, Duncan!’ protested Lady Glanville. ‘What a way to greet the child! She has a most elegant
figure.’
‘For a lady of fashion, perhaps. But if her ambitions lie in the world of opera, she will have to put on some fat.’
‘You are too coarse!’ This time Lady Glanville spoke more sharply. Her brother-in-law bowed in acknowledgement of the rebuke but made no alteration in the haughty tone of his voice.
‘We will ask her to provide the finale to your little concert, my dear Fanny,’ he said. He turned back to Alexa. ‘I made it clear to Mr Lorimer that any help I was prepared to give you was contingent on an audition. I can hardly be expected to waste time and money on some young lady who is only fit to squawk to her mother’s friends after dinner. Did he warn you of that?’
Alexa nodded her head: her throat was dry with nervousness.
‘When I put the condition to Mr Lorimer, he merely laughed and commented that in such a case we might consider it settled,’ said Mr Glanville. ‘I take it that he admires your ability. Well, we will find out at once if he is right. If I give you time to prepare yourself you will become more nervous, not less. And you will find my sister-in-law the perfect audience. She could not speak a critical word to anyone to save her life. What will you sing?’
‘“Che faro senza Euridice”,’ answered Alexa. She had sung it to William on the previous evening, with tears in her voice for her own lost love. Now she would use it again to mark her entry into a new life.
‘Do you speak Italian?’ It seemed that her choice, and the accent in which she announced it, had made a good impression.
‘Yes, sir,’ answered Alexa. ‘My mother was Italian.’
This answer too earned a nod of approval, and her confidence began to return. She had expected to accompany herself, but Mr Glanville sat down again at the piano and without needing a score began at once to play the introduction to Orpheus’s lament. Alexa sang as well as she could, and was disappointed by the silence with which her performance was received.
‘What makes you think you’re a contralto, Miss Lorimer?’ he demanded, turning on the piano stool to face her. His voice was so aggressive that Alexa’s heart sank. She was not good enough, then. It did not occur to her that the question was anything but sarcastic. The natural range of her voice was a wide one, and she had taught herself contralto arias mainly because her mother had been a contralto and had left her a box of music, too shabby to pawn or sell. Because the register had given her no trouble, Alexa had always taken it for granted that she was a contralto as well.
Lady Glanville must have noticed the dismay on her face, for she gave a sweet smile. ‘I thought the child sang beautifully, Duncan,’ she said.
‘Oh yes, yes. A pretty enough voice. But mezzo at the very lowest; and a full dramatic soprano if she holds her head up. Here, try again. We can take a few liberties with Gluck.’ He turned back to the piano and played a series of chords to show that he was transposing the aria upwards. Then he nodded at her to sing it once more.
It was extraordinary what a difference the small change made. Instead of cradling her voice inside her chest, Alexa found that she had to stand up straighter, pull her shoulders back, project her voice outwards and upwards. She had no difficulty in reaching the higher notes, and now the sound was not merely adequate but glorious. Long before she came to the end she knew that she must have justified William’s request on her behalf. As the last note died away she found herself gasping, with excitement rather than breathlessness. Her eyes were bright and expectant – but once again her patron was slow to comment. This time it was because his attention had been distracted.
Alexa turned to follow his gaze. A very tall man, his hair already streaked with silver, was standing in the doorway. Without being told, she felt sure that he must be Lord Glanville. He had the same immaculate appearance and aristocratic expression as the Honourable Duncan Glanville, but without the younger man’s trace of cruelty. He too was staring at her, but in a quite different manner from his brother’s earlier scrutiny. It was as though he could hardly believe what he had heard. As soon as he saw that he had been noticed, however, he nodded politely to Alexa but turned to speak to his wife.
‘Fanny, my dear, are your boxes ready to be carried down?’
‘All but the valise which is to travel in the carriage. I will see to that now.’
Lord Glanville bent over the chaise longue to help his wife to her feet. Alexa, seeing the difficulty with which Lady Glanville moved, hurried to assist on the other side but then hesitated, wondering whether she was being presumptuous. Lady Glanville gave the same sweet smile with which she had encouraged Alexa before, and accepted the support of her arm as well as Lord Glan-ville’s. She walked with difficulty towards the foot of the stairs, where two servants were waiting with an invalid chair to carry her up.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ she said. ‘If this is to be the first step in a great career, I feel privileged to have been present at it. I wish you every success.’
There was an immediate feeling of rapport – almost affection – between the two women. Alexa was warmed by it as she returned to the piano and her sympathy must have been obvious, for Mr Glanville showed no impatience at the interruption.
‘My sister-in-law suffers from a muscular disease,’ he said. ‘She is in constant pain, which she can relieve only in hot baths and poultices. My brother leaves with her tomorrow for Baden-Baden, so that she may take the cure again. Now then, let us continue. Mr Lorimer was not deceived. You have a good voice. I would like to explore its range.’
By now Alexa’s confidence had returned. She had been so painstaking in her exercises over the years that she found no difficulty in singing the scale from each chord he played. When he stood up during the last of them and put his hand lightly round the front of her throat she was disconcerted – but continued to sing in order that he might feel the movement of her larynx, if that was what he wanted.
His next move was very much more disturbing. He asked her to sing a series of notes, starting softly and making a gradual crescendo, prolonging each note for as long as her breath allowed. As she did so he came to stand behind her, very much closer than Alexa liked, and put his arms round her waist, pressing the palms of both hands against her diaphragm.
She did her best to conceal her uneasiness. He was testing her breath control. It was a legitimate touch for a music teacher. She had seen her own mother do it to the little girls she taught, helping to show them how they should breathe. But her mother was not a man; and this man was not a music teacher.
He had the right to know whether she deserved his interest, she told herself. It need never happen again. And although he was not a teacher, he had conducted the audition in a reassuringly professional way. Alexa sustained each note as he had instructed, and tried not to notice that his thumbs were touching her breasts.
At last the ordeal was over. For a second time he looked her up and down. ‘I think something could be made of you,’ he said. ‘I hope you’re not stupid enough to think that you can walk straight into an opera company. The training for a singer is long.’
‘How long, sir?’ asked Alexa.
‘The best singers take six years.’ He showed his amusement at the dismay on her face. ‘And by then you think you will be old. and ugly, with the best years of your life wasted! Well, if you work hard, three years may be enough. We will wait until the travellers have departed tomorrow morning, with all the fuss that will involve. Then I will arrange for a teacher and discuss a course of study for you. For tonight, I will have a meal sent up to your room.’
‘You are so kind, Mr Glanville. I don’t quite understand – I would like to say how grateful I am.’
From what she had been told, she half expected him to reply with some reference to his love of music, but instead he smiled in a manner which she found unpleasant.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I feed on gratitude. I shall expect to be succoured by regular offerings of it.’ He dismissed her with a nod, leaving her to make her way back to her bedroom.
As he had promised, a tray
was brought to the room. When she had eaten the lonely meal she went to bed, exhausted by a day of travel and anxiety. For a long time she lay with her eyes open in the darkness, trying to make sense of all that had happened and to see, if only a little way, into the future.
The past was something she must try to forget. Throughout the previous night she had lain awake, weeping, hurt and unhappy. That Matthew should have deserted her at all was almost impossible to believe; that he should have gone without a word of farewell had, in the end, caused her misery to be replaced by anger. She would take good care never again to give her love so easily. But no one should ever know how deeply she had been hurt. She would show Matthew how little she cared for his desertion by becoming rich and famous. For a little while longer she would need to live as a dependant; but once her training was over she would make a great career for herself. How fortunate it was, she tried to persuade herself, that she had not after all been diverted from her ambitious plans into a life of domestic dullness.
As unexpected as Matthew’s departure was his father’s helpfulness. Almost against reasonable expectation William Lorimer had kept his promise. He had introduced her to someone who – in an equally unlikely manner – was apparently prepared to help her realize her ambitions. But how much could Mr Glanville be expected to do for a stranger? To provide her with board and lodging might cost him little. To arrange a musical training might gratify his pride. But did he realize, she wondered, that she had no resources of her own at all? She had brought with her – since she planned to return directly to Elm Lodge the next day – all the clothes which she had taken to Bristol, and the single valise contained all that she owned. Her two new dresses would be shabby long before the course of training was completed. Already she needed a new pair of shoes, since the money Margaret had sent to Sophie had not been enough to provide this. Would she be entitled to go to Mr Glanville for clothes and pin money? And if not, what was she to do? To ask Margaret for an allowance was out of the question. Every penny that came into Elm Lodge was needed to balance a tight budget.
The Lorimer Legacy Page 4