The Lorimer Legacy

by Anne Melville

  Her own role, she realized as they sat stiffly in a huge gold and white drawing room, should be that of the shy young ingénue. It was not a time to parade her fame and independence. Alexa was as well able to act the part of a demure eighteen-year-old as that of a princess or a gypsy, and she did so now – speaking when she was spoken to, and listening with amusement to Miss Halloran’s unsubtle attempts to research into Robert’s pedigree.

  The door opened, and Alexa’s smile changed from amusement to pleasure as two young men came in to be presented. She wondered whether Margaret would recognize that she had caught a glimpse of one of them before. On this occasion Brad was clean. His face shone with scrubbing, his hair was sleeked down with water, and he was formally dressed in a suit whose style – of woollen stockings and knee-length knickerbockers – was odd to Alexa’s eyes, but typical of the well-dressed young citizen of San Francisco.

  Alexa, however, had no great interest in Brad. She was waiting to see how Margaret would like his brother.

  ‘My elder nephew, Frank Davidson,’ announced Miss Halloran. ‘Though what he’s doing in the house at this hour of the day I can’t imagine. Frank, this is Dr Scott. And Miss Reni.’

  Frank’s face was boyish and handsome. Frank’s hair was dark and curly. Frank’s brown eyes sparkled with mischief and conspiracy as he bowed his acknowledgement of the introductions.

  ‘I’ve been making some adjustments to the Panhard,’ he said in answer to his aunt’s criticism. ‘And I have polished every piston and fender until the whole machine is glowing with elbow grease and pride. All I need now is a passenger worthy of its excellence. I came here to offer you an automobile drive through the Golden Gate Park, Aunt Halloran. A pleasure for you, I hope, but a test drive for myself. I’m almost ready to build a complete engine which will be more reliable than anything at present on the market. So you see, I’m hard at work even while I seem to be lazing in your drawing room.’

  ‘You know how I hate the noisy brutes,’ said Miss Halloran.

  ‘They are the transportation system of the future,’ Frank assured her. ‘And I intend to entrust my own future to them. You should be pleased that instead of being content to share my father’s fortune, I propose to earn my own. Well, if I cannot persuade you, perhaps I could induce Dr Scott instead to accompany me. And Miss Reni, of course.’

  ‘Oh yes, do let us go!’ exclaimed Alexa, introducing a note of excitement into the debutante voice she was practising, for all the world as though she had never seen a horseless carriage before. To her delight, Margaret was willing to pick up the cue.

  ‘As long as you don’t expect me to be the eventual customer, Mr Davidson, that would be a treat for both Alexa and myself.’

  Frank gave Margaret his most charming smile. ‘I salute your enterprise in being a lady doctor, Dr Scott,’ he said. ‘But even you, I imagine, hardly expect that ladies will ever wish to drive their own autos. Even if they had the taste for covering their hands in dirt and grease, they would not have the strength to start the engine. So you will be safe from my sales talk.’

  Alexa made no secret of her satisfaction as she followed Frank and Margaret outside and tied her hat on securely: she had taken the precaution of including a suitable scarf in her outfit. The visit had been a necessary formality. Now that she and Frank had been officially introduced, she could rely on Frank to make sure that there would be other invitations.

  Margaret, as it quickly transpired when at last they returned to their apartment after the drive, had not been deceived.

  ‘I’m well aware that my role as your chaperone is as much of a pretence as any of your characters on the stage,’ she said. ‘But you would not accept a part without first being shown the libretto and the score. It was hardly fair of you to talk so much about Brad’s aunt when it was Frank’s aunt in fact whom you wished me to meet. Does the family hold any further surprises?’

  ‘Brad and Frank have a sister, Cassie,’ said Alexa. ‘She is nineteen. About a year ago she married a young man who is trying to develop a vineyard in the Napa Valley. And there is their father, of course. I haven’t met either Cassie or Mr Davidson.’

  ‘And how did you come to make Frank’s acquaintance?’ Margaret asked her.

  ‘I went to meet Robert after his first day at school here,’ Alexa told her. ‘You were asleep, if you remember. Robert and Brad arrived at the gate together, and Frank had come to meet Brad. He had one of his autos with him then, and was proposing to take his brother for a ride. He offered a ride to Robert and myself as well. But naturally I realized that I ought to refuse.’

  ‘Naturally!’ agreed Margaret. ‘And naturally you were careful not to make your refusal too blunt. Alexa, you are behaving disgracefully.’

  The two women burst out laughing together.

  ‘But as a matter of fact,’ Alexa protested, ‘Nob Hill is the best starting point for our conquest of San Francisco. We need the approval of someone like Miss Halloran. And although Brad and Frank have provided a short cut, we should have been able to pay that call quite soon in any case, I think. Miss Halloran and her brother-in-law are patrons of the opera. They have their own box. When I make my début here, Miss Halloran will be as pleased to claim my acquaintance as I am to know her.’

  ‘I suspect from some of her comments that I shall sink rapidly in her estimation once I become a working doctor,’ Margaret said.

  ‘You need be in no hurry, surely, for that time to come?’ Alexa made her voice as persuasive as she could. ‘You deserve a little leisure after all your years of hard work, and my fees are quite generous enough to support us all.’

  ‘I’ve lost the taste for idleness, if I ever had it,’ Margaret confessed. ‘Certainly I’ll keep my part of our bargain for as long as you need me, but I would be glad to know when you expect to set me free.’

  Alexa recognized that Margaret had the right to a serious answer. ‘For my first performances here I shall be singing with the resident company,’ she said. ‘But in the middle of April the Metropolitan Company of New York will be arriving, and Caruso and I will be singing with the company as guest artists in three of their productions. The first one in which I am to appear, Carmen, will open on 17 April. By the end of April I shall have had the opportunity to impress – or not – two of the most important managers on the North American continent. I hope very much that as a result I may be offered a contract with one of them. But it could as easily be in New York as in San Francisco. So if you would be willing to wait until then before making any firm arrangement of your own . . .’

  ‘Until the end of April. All right, then. Robert will be surprised to find himself for three months at the mercy of a mother who has nothing to do but fuss over him. But that may be something he has missed. I hope you will win whichever offer you want, Alexa.’

  Alexa smiled her thanks. She had no doubts about her own abilities in the operatic field; and the admiration she had seen in Frank Davidson’s eyes suggested that within the next few months she could expect to receive more offers than merely those which came from managers. She would have a choice of rich prizes, and she intended to turn whatever she chose into a triumph.

  4

  It is a curious inversion of values which causes an operatic performance to be more highly regarded as a social than as a musical occasion according to the degree of wealth and sophistication in its audience. The opening night of Carmen, on 17 April 1906, was to be a gala event in San Francisco, and in turn was only the prelude to one of the main events of the social season, the Opera Ball. Margaret did not expect the occasion to offer any great excitement to herself, but she took for granted her duty to accompany Alexa.

  Unlike the society guests who planned to attend, Alexa would only be able to dress for the ball after the performance was over. When Margaret went into her room in the late afternoon, she found it littered with clothes, as Alexa prepared to make her choice and send the garments over to the Opera House in the care of her dresser.

 
; ‘What are you going to wear?’ Margaret asked.

  ‘As you may see, I am having some difficulty over the choice. But I’ve decided that what I wore to Lord Glanville’s ball, at the end of my life in Europe, can fittingly mark my acceptance of a new world.’ Alexa held up the white satin dress. Margaret remembered how lovely she had looked in the ballroom at Blaize, and nodded approvingly. Then she caught sight of the black leather case which lay open on a table.

  ‘Not the rubies, Alexa!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t like them.’ Margaret was reluctant to give the real reason for her objection.

  ‘It’s true that I had no interest in them before I saw them,’ Alexa agreed. ‘And I was ungracious, I remember, when at last you handed them to me. But in a curious way – how can I explain? They are very beautiful, I recognized that at once. And they are beautiful in a way that is exactly right for me. You said that my father had chosen them especially to suit me – well, as I wear them, I’m conscious of how well he succeeded, and it’s given me a warmer feeling towards him. I’ve never truly felt myself to be part of a family, but these jewels are my link with the Lorimers – and especially with you.’

  ‘Nevertheless, wear something else tonight. You have other jewels of equal value.’

  ‘Certainly I have,’ Alexa acknowledged. ‘But it was these I wore for that evening at Blaize.’

  ‘And did the evening bring you happiness?’ Margaret did not wait for an answer. A fear which could not be rationally explained made the words trip over her tongue as she tried to persuade Alexa to close the box. ‘Every time I have seen these stones, some disaster has followed. My mother wore them to a ball, and caught a chill there from which she died. Your mother showed them to me before she asked me to keep the box for you, and before morning she too was dead. And then my husband –’ Margaret’s voice choked to a standstill. ‘You know that I am not superstitious in the ordinary way, Alexa. But these jewels have brought real, not imaginary ill-fortune every time they have appeared.’

  ‘Then we must be already doomed, for here they are displayed before us.’ Alexa’s smile made it clear that she did not accept Margaret’s apprehension, but she closed the box nevertheless. ‘Well, I certainly don’t wish the evening to be spoiled by your premonition of some new disaster. I have some opals which are equally suited to this gown.’ She looked at Margaret with eyes which sparkled with even more than their usual brightness. ‘I have my own premonition about this evening,’ she said. ‘But all my expectations are happy ones. I think it possible that in the excitement of the occasion I may receive a proposal of marriage. I think it also possible that I may accept. Would you be prepared to welcome Frank Davidson as your half-brother-in-law?’

  ‘I like Frank very much indeed,’ said Margaret, and her approval was sincere. In Alexa’s company she had seen a good deal of him in the past few weeks. She liked his humour and the merriment with which his eyes continually flashed. But beneath his light-hearted good looks she was conscious that he had all the firm character of a young man who knew himself to be technically skilled and justifiably ambitious. Alexa had enjoyed so many years of independence that it would need a strong man to control her. There was only one respect in which Frank Davidson might seem less than an ideal husband. ‘He is a good deal younger than you, of course,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Eight years is nothing!’ scoffed Alexa. ‘Although as a matter of fact he believes that I am twenty-four, not twenty-nine.’

  Margaret frowned in disapproval, and Alexa hurried to explain.

  ‘I ought to be ashamed to admit to a lie, I suppose, but it wasn’t originally meant to deceive Frank. There comes a moment in every singer’s life when she’s tempted to add a few years to her career by subtracting them from her age. The temptation usually seems to arise as a fortieth birthday approaches – but by then, of course, it’s difficult to carry off the deception because too many people know the truth. All that happened was that I looked ahead and realized that the beginning of a new career in a new continent would be a good time to make a small adjustment. I mentioned my new age in a newspaper interview even before I had met Frank, and afterwards I could hardly allow two versions to circulate publicly. I can rely on your discretion, I hope.’

  ‘I think it unwise for any marriage to be founded on a deception,’ said Margaret.

  ‘Good gracious, this isn’t a foundation stone. A small embellishment to the decoration, that’s all. It’s not as though he’s choosing a bride by proxy. He will have what he sees. And of course I shall tell him the truth as soon as we are married.’

  ‘It should be before you are married,’ said Margaret, conscious that she must seem to be behaving priggishly, but sure that she was right.

  ‘Very well, then; before. It’s a matter of no importance. But of course I wouldn’t want him to learn the truth from anyone but myself.’

  Margaret accepted the command, although with reluctance. She hoped that Frank would never refer in her presence to Alexa’s age. If the matter were not raised -and why should it be? – she could pretend to know nothing about it. She changed the subject to that of the evening’s arrangements.

  Although she lacked Alexa’s incentive for taking pains with her appearance, Margaret dressed for the evening as well as a wardrobe designed for a less glamorous life allowed. Not for the first time she bemoaned her lack of inches. Her waist was as slim as Alexa’s, and she held her shoulders as straight; but without the slender height which gave the younger woman the air of a princess, she could never attain true elegance in her own eyes. She did her best, however, and when she arrived at the Grand Opera House that evening she could hope that Alexa would not feel ashamed of her companion at the ball.

  A seat was waiting for Margaret at the front of the manager’s own box, but she was in no hurry to take it. There was a little while to go before the overture began, and the audience was still buzzing with excited gossip. Even without the additional spice of Caruso’s appearance tonight, the theatre on its own was able to impose an atmosphere of grandeur. Above Margaret’s head a series of galleries and balconies ascended so high into the roof that those who had paid their twenty-five cents for a seat in the ‘seventh heaven’ could hope to see little but the top of the singers’ heads. But the more fashionable members of the audience, who patronized the boxes and the orchestra pit, were received in greater style. There was a huge lobby, with a wide promenade above it, lit -like the auditorium itself – by chandeliers whose crystals reflected the lights on to mirrored walls and received them twinkling back again.

  For a few moments Margaret became part of the restless flow in which the richest citizens of San Francisco displayed themselves to their fellows. Then she allowed herself to be shown into her box. Here, too, she enjoyed looking round for a while, watching the bows and smiles as members of the audience searched for acquaintances and acknowledged them. She stood in the dim light at the back of the box, where she could observe without herself being clearly seen.

  Two boxes along, Frank Davidson was helping his aunt into a seat. As befitted a patron of the opera, she had one of the best places in the house. Margaret watched the young man’s solicitude approvingly, wondering with some amusement whether Frank himself knew as certainly as Alexa did that he was likely to end the evening as an engaged man. Then her heart stopped beating. There was someone else in the Davidson box.

  She had tried to prepare herself for this moment. She had told herself that there was virtually no possibility that she would ever see David Gregson again. She had done her best to persuade herself that after so many years they might not even recognize each other if they were to meet. Above all, she had reminded herself many times that there could never be anything between them again. They were strangers now.

  All these deceptions were swept away in the single flash of recognitiin. Margaret would have been hard put to it to explain how she could feel so sure of the identification. Twenty-seven years ago she had slamm
ed the door on a young man who was shabby and undernourished, shivering with cold and shaking with anger. What she saw now was a man of fifty-six whose hair -although it curled up from his forehead as exuberantly as before – was completely white. His evening clothes were perfectly cut and the stones which sparkled on the front and cuffs of his shirt were undoubtedly diamonds. He had put on enough weight to emphasize his appearance of prosperity, and the easy way in which he took his seat beside Miss Halloran and began to look around the audience revealed his social confidence.

  Giddy with the shock, Margaret sat down at the back of the box. Was David then Frank’s father? Although their appearance in the same box was not sufficient to prove it, the probability went that way. William had warned Margaret once that a man escaping from a criminal charge would almost certainly change his name. For David to become Mr Davidson would be a short step, but sufficient to evade any official enquiry which might be made. It would explain, too, the immediate liking which Margaret had felt for both the Davidson boys. Certainly she had never recognized them as David’s sons: the possibility had not even occurred to her. But in the moment when she saw them standing side by side in the great gold and white room on Nob Hill she had found them instantly attractive, almost as though she knew them already.

  The orchestra began to play, but Margaret did not hear it. The curtain rose, and the huge stage was illuminated with gaslight as the light faded in the giant chandelier which hung over the auditorium: Margaret did not notice. She paid no attention when the girls from the cigarette factory poured on to the stage – not even when Alexa, almost unrecognizable in her dark wig, began to sing. Within seconds the customary miracle had occurred, as though Alexa had gathered the whole audience into the palm of her hand, allowing no one even to breathe until she should turn away with a flick of her castanets. Margaret had succumbed to this strange power at every other performance she had attended, but tonight her own circle of enchantment protected her. Pressed back into the shadow of the box, she thought what she should do.