Margaret was a sensible woman. She knew well enough how foolish it was, and how illogical, to allow her thoughts to ramble in this way. Only the tiredness caused by the rough sea voyage and the long railroad journey, combined with the strain of starting a new life in a strange place, could explain why she found herself staring at every man she saw with both apprehension and hope. With a last clutch at rational behaviour she asked a passer-by to direct her by the quickest route back to the hotel, and a cable car took her almost to the door. Her head was swimming, and she found it impossible to tell whether it was her mind or her body which was on the point of collapse. Her final resolve, as she lay down on the bed for a short rest before Alexa’s return, was that she would not allow herself to think of David Gregson again.
2
Amateur nurses regard sleep as the best cure for almost any illness. Alexa could not imagine what had caused the nervous and physical collapse which had overwhelmed her sister on the day after their arrival in San Francisco, but she was reassured rather than frightened by the prolonged drowsiness which followed it. Margaret was still asleep now, in a darkened bedroom; and Robert had gone off to play with his new schoolfriend, Brad. Alone in the drawing room of an apartment on Van Ness Avenue, Alexa was singing a duet with Enrico Caruso.
Caruso – in the flesh – had sung with Alexa before, on the stage of the Opera House at Naples. It was almost certainly his approval and recommendation which were responsible for her invitation to San Francisco. But it happened that they had never performed Carmen together, so she had accepted with amusement and pleasure the loan of what she called a gramophone but its owner described as an Edison-box. Caruso himself would not be coming west from New York until April, but the revolving cylinder of wax from which his voice emerged with surprising richness gave her the opportunity to practise harmonizing her voice with his.
She was startled by Margaret’s sudden entry into the room – and it was easy to see that Margaret herself was flustered; for although she had dressed, her appearance lacked its usual neatness. Alexa smiled mischievously as she watched Margaret trace the tenor voice to its source.
‘Did you fancy that I was entertaining a gentleman here in your absence?’ she teased.
‘Indeed I did, and I was very much upset to believe that I was neglecting my duties as chaperone so early in our stay.’ Margaret made her way to a sofa and sat down as the song came to an end. ‘I find myself in every way confused. This is not our hotel room, is it?’
‘No,’ agreed Alexa, and could not resist continuing to tease for a moment. ‘I hope you feel rested after your nap.’
‘I can’t remember ever having a sounder night’s sleep,’ said Margaret.
Alexa laughed, and went across the room to kiss her sister. ‘You have slept almost without a break for six days,’ she said. ‘You allowed us to move you here from the hotel in a kind of dream, and once a day you have been sufficiently awake to take a little food, but you have always gone straight back to sleep again.’ The horror on Margaret’s face increased her amusement. Alexa knew well enough that laziness on such a scale must seem unforgivable to someone as briskly hard-working as Dr Margaret Scott. ‘Had you been your own doctor, a rest of this kind is just what you would have prescribed for yourself,’ she said. ‘If you hadn’t collapsed like that, you might have become really ill.’
‘I’m never ill,’ protested Margaret. It was true that Alexa could remember only one occasion, in the twenty years since she had been adopted, when her guardian had allowed an over-wrought mind to sap her body of its natural strength, and that was when Charles Scott had died only a month or two before Robert was born.
‘You have not been ill now.’ Alexa did her best to be reassuring. ‘You were very tired, that was all – and it was hardly surprising. I blame myself greatly for inflicting such a journey on you. When you had all the strain of packing up your possessions and leaving your friends and reconciling yourself to a new life amongst strangers, it’s no wonder that you should be affected by the weeks of such discomfort. Besides, you had hardly had time to recover from your earlier voyage to Jamaica and back.’
‘But six days! And one of your reasons for asking me to come was in order that your entry to San Francisco society should be conventionally chaperoned!’
‘It has all fallen out magnificently,’ Alexa assured her. ‘I have refused all formal invitations until you should be ready to accompany me, and the result has been to make us the most sought-after guests in the city. Strait-laced mammas who were alarmed at the prospect of a gold-digging English singer getting her claws into their darling sons are now even more perturbed by the prospect of some other hostess being preferred to themselves. We shall have to consider seriously who is to be allowed the honour of entertaining us first. Our future social status may depend on it.’
‘You sound happy, Alexa. I’m glad to hear it.’
Alexa’s true feelings were more complicated than she intended to reveal, even to Margaret. She had determined to show herself to the whole world as light-hearted, and was glad that the person who knew her best was willing to accept what she said at face value.
‘I seem to have been surrounded by kindness and admiration ever since we arrived,’ she said. ‘In Italy, it’s normal for a prima donna to be feted, so I’m accustomed to being spoiled, but I confess that I hadn’t expected it to happen here, where I am not well known. I’m sure you must have had secret doubts about the wisdom of our journey, and so sometimes did I. It’s delightful to be surprised in such a way. In fact, I find this in every respect an unexpected city. Do you know that there are no fewer than seven theatres? And that two of them are offering opera seasons? Anyone who disapproves of my Carmen at the Morisco Opera House will only need to move to the Tivoli to hear Tetrazzini’s Gilda instead. It’s a good thing to have a rival. Competition creates an atmosphere of excitement.’
‘As long as you emerge as the champion,’ Margaret suggested.
‘She sings nicely enough, but she is too fat!’ Alexa dismissed Tetrazzini with a flick of her own slim wrist. ‘Well, I must wait until I have made my début before I can be quite sure. But I think I shall want to stay. And – ’ Alexa allowed her voice to change, making her next remark so deliberately casual that it must appear tentative. ‘I think I may decide to marry.’
Margaret made no attempt to hide her incredulity. ‘You can’t have met someone in so short a time!’ she exclaimed.
‘That was only a statement of intent. It doesn’t mean that I’m interested in any particular man.’ She allowed herself to be serious. ‘I’ve loved Matthew for twenty years, Margaret – ever since you first took me to Brinsley House as a child. I know that I must make myself forget him. But it’s so difficult, when he himself has done nothing to hurt me. I tell myself that there’s nothing to be done, that we must never meet again. Ever since the night of Lord Glanville’s ball, I’ve been trying to put Matthew out of my mind; and I can’t do it. Well, perhaps a husband would be able to help me.’
‘I remember your saying, on the night of the ball,’ Margaret began slowly; but Alexa interrupted her.
‘I said and did a good many foolish things that evening,’ she admitted. ‘But I remember one thing you said. That sometimes love comes after marriage.’
‘It’s unfortunate for Lord Glanville that it’s taken you so long to accept that.’
Alexa sighed with the impossibility of explaining her true feelings for Lord Glanville – especially to Margaret, who almost certainly loved him herself. His kindness to the young singer he had befriended had been so great that Alexa had always had a particular affection for him. She did indeed love him in a way, but it was not a passionate way. Perhaps because she had never known a father of her own, she could not prevent herself from thinking of him almost in that relationship. What love she did feel was sincere enough to hold her back from anything which might in the end disappoint and hurt him. With a stranger it would not be too unkind to experiment. She could set h
erself the task of falling in love with someone. If she succeeded, she could marry him with a good conscience: if she failed, it should be possible to disentangle herself before too much harm was done. But with Lord Glanville, who knew her so well, no such experiment would be possible. A single kiss would have been enough to raise his hopes and open the door to disappointment. All this, however, was too difficult to put into words.
‘To marry Lord Glanville without loving him would have been to take a risk – and he would have been the one to suffer most if the marriage failed.’
‘I think you may have misjudged him, Alexa. He is stronger than you seem to believe. And he should have been allowed to estimate his own risks. Well, it’s too late now to regret that. But didn’t you refuse an earl that night as well?’
‘I told you then that a title means nothing to me,’ said Alexa. ‘It would have imprisoned me, in fact. How could a countess be allowed to earn her living? I don’t intend to let any husband prevent me from singing. I think it may prove easier to make that point in America than in Europe. And there are other kinds of aristocracy. Seven days in San Francisco have been enough to teach me that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that the heights of the city are made of money. The men who live here build their homes of wood, not stone, because they know that one day another earthquake will bring the buildings down on their heads. But the foundations of the houses are of silver and gold and the iron tracks of railway lines. San Franciso is full of millionaires, Margaret. There are respectable ones and crooked ones, each with his own place in a hierarchy which it will take us a little time to understand. I shall rely on you to stop me making any mistakes. But as soon as we have made our map of society, I shall marry a millionaire. Or, at least –’ she checked herself. ‘That’s not quite right. The men who have made fortunes themselves tend to be rather rough. But their sons – that’s something else again! Educated, cultured, with enormous expectations of wealth but a certain lack of imagination when it comes to spending their riches. They need expensive wives to show off their fortunes. I shall find the most suitable of the eldest sons and encourage him to fall in love with me. He will allow me to continue singing professionally until he comes into his inheritance; and then he will build me my own opera house, and we will make it the most famous musical centre in the world.’
‘I don’t like to hear you being cynical,’ Margaret said quietly.
‘That’s not fair!’ Alexa protested. ‘I’m only saying out loud and in advance what a good many other young women think secretly. Don’t marry for money, but marry where money is. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have the choice. Am I expected to throw away all my natural advantages? I can promise that whoever marries me will get a good enough bargain. I have never been a cheat. And I could say that you were the cynical one, when you advised me to marry first and hope that love came afterwards.’
‘I was thinking only of Lord Glanville.’
‘That demonstrates the danger, then, of generalizing from a particular case. So you must not frown too heavily if I decide instead to take a general truth and particularize from it. The general truth being that – other things being equal – a rich man makes a better husband for an extravagant woman than a poor one. Matthew had hardly a penny to his name, so you can’t accuse me of always being greedy. As I grow older, I become more realistic, that’s all.’ She leaned over the back of the sofa and hugged Margaret apologetically. ‘And I should have realized long ago that the only reason you allow me to rant on like this is because you are weak with starvation after all this time in bed. We have a Chinese cook who is longing to tempt your appetite with something more exciting than broths. I will set him to work at once.’ She moved towards the bell, but burst out laughing before she reached it. ‘Do come, Margaret. Look out of the window.’
Walking with an unsteadiness which made her weakness clear, Margaret came to stand beside her. Together they looked down at the wide avenue below. Two thirteen-year-old urchins were walking across it, dodging the busy flow of horses and bicycles and an occasional automobile. They were of the same height and covered from head to foot with the same coating of sandy mud. Only a glimpse of bright red hair through the covering of dirt suggested that one of them might be Robert.
Alexa could tell that Margaret was startled by the sight. The tone of her exclamation combined delight at seeing her son with shock at his appearance.
‘Robert’s instincts seem to be more democratic than yours,’ she commented. ‘While you look for your friends in the homes of millionaires, he finds his in the gutter.’
There was nothing critical about her voice, nothing to suggest that she disapproved. She laughed in fact, as she saw her son’s new friend wave goodbye and set off down the avenue at a run, turning a cartwheel as he went out of sheer high spirits. Nevertheless, Alexa supposed that she ought to explain. She missed her opportunity, however, for Margaret was already hurrying out of the room to greet Robert.
It didn’t matter. Margaret would be as polite to a guttersnipe as to a prince, if he was a friend of her son. Alexa changed her mind about providing more information. It would be amusing to delay any introduction for a little while. She would have a word with Robert, asking him not to spoil the joke. Then they could both look forward to teasing Margaret when the truth finally emerged.
3
The social structure of a cosmopolitan city offers to a newcomer the same excitement that an explorer finds in the landmass of an unmapped continent. Alexa wasted little time before plunging Margaret into a preliminary expedition.
‘Who is Miss Halloran?’ Margaret asked, looking at the first name on the list which was set before her.
‘Brad’s aunt.’
‘But who is Brad?’
‘Bradley Davidson is the guttersnipe,’ said Alexa, laughing. ‘Robert’s new school friend, with whom he went tunnelling yesterday. No doubt his aunt wishes to establish Robert’s respectability by scrutinizing his family. She called last week, while I was at rehearsal and you were asleep. I gather that Brad’s mother is dead, and his father travels a good deal on business. So Miss Halloran has to a large extent taken her sister’s place in running the household.’
Deliberately Alexa made no attempt to explain why their first formal call should be in Robert’s interest rather than in that of her own début into the highest level of San Francisco society. For the same reason, she gave Margaret no advance information about the area of the city they were about to visit. This enabled her to watch with amusement the astonishment on her sister’s face as they paused before entering Miss Halloran’s home.
Like almost every other house in the city, it was made of wood – but wood which had been carved into so many twists and scrolls and knobs and cross-hatchings that it had taken on the appearance of a gingerbread house. The ornateness of the architectural design rivalled the decoration: there were turrets and pediments, bow windows and a pillared colonnade. The building, itself four times as large as any normal family house, was surrounded by a garden which was huge by the standards of the densely-packed city, landscaped to take full advantage of the steep fall of the hill.
Alexa allowed Margaret a moment in which to adjust her picture of a filthy thirteen-year-old to this surprising setting. ‘This is to San Francisco what Clifton is to Bristol, I suppose,’ she said. ‘It’s nicknamed Nob Hill, after the railroad nabobs who developed it. If you find Miss Halloran’s residence ostentatious, I can only suggest that you take a look at the Hopkins’s house.’
‘Is that all the information you’re going to give me?’ Margaret asked her. ‘I’d like to know more about Miss Halloran than only the name of her young nephew. Was her father one of the railroad builders you mentioned?’
‘Only in the sense that with his pick and shovel he actually helped to carve out a section of the track. He was an Irish labourer. He arrived in America with a wife and two small children, who lived in a tent beside each new section of the railroad. He
hadn’t a penny in his pocket more than his week’s wages, and he couldn’t even read or write.’
‘Then how . . .?’
‘He happened to be working within striking distance of Nevada when the Comstock lode was discovered,’ said Alexa. ‘I suppose he ran there a little faster than anyone else, and dug a great deal harder. He did only moderately well there, I’m told – he wasn’t one of the original bonanza millionaires. But it set him up in San Francisco comfortably enough. And by the time the next big strike was made, in Alaska, he’d married one of his daughters to a man who could do considerably more than sign his own name. They went into partnership and really made a killing. Hence this fine example of domestic architecture. I’ve been warned that we shall find Miss Halloran excessively stiff and formal, and with a strong prejudice against the English which she may or may not express in our presence. She wouldn’t thank us for mentioning her own father’s origins, but she will be snobbishly curious about ours.’
‘How did you discover all this?’ asked Margaret.
‘Oh, I made a few enquiries. Shall we go in?’
Alexa was not quite as confident as she tried to pretend about how she should behave. Her social life had for a good many years now been conducted on a very much less formal basis. But she was interested to discover that her sister knew exactly what was expected. Although Margaret had certainly never had time in her busy professional life for the making and returning of calls with which more leisured women of her age filled their days, she had already noticed that the fashions in dress here were a good many years behind those of London. It was reasonable to guess that perhaps social conventions also bore some relation to the rules of etiquette which had ruled Bristol society thirty years earlier.
The Lorimer Legacy Page 19