‘And at the end of that time?’ asked Caroline.
He spread his small white hands with their spatulate finger ends.
‘No one can tell. I believe this young lady to have the most natural talent of any of the last fifty pupils it has been my privilege to teach.’
Greatly daring her daughter’s displeasure, Demelza said: ‘Some people – a few people – find her voice rather, well, hard.’
‘Ah, yes, I can understand that,’ Fredericks said. ‘The vocal cords are magnificent and surprisingly mature. At times she may even seem to shout. But that is all latent tone, latent talent, an expression of the vigour of youth. That can be trained out of the voice so that the top registers are as sweet as the lower ones.’
‘And she is – is what is called a mezzo-soprano?’
‘That is so.’
Caroline looked at Demelza, as if aware that hers was not a major role but . . . ‘Dr Fredericks, have we your assurance that Miss Poldark has an exceptional voice – or one of exceptional promise? Suppose she comes to you for two years, and at the end of that time she has fulfilled her promise, what then? What might her future be?’
Dr Fredericks again spread his hands.
‘A pupil I had last year began with sponsored recitals; then recently she has been engaged as the principal soprano by the Bristol Oratorio Society. Another whom you may have heard of, Christine Smythe, has already sung in opera and is now in Paris, singing there and receiving further tuition from the great Bernard de Vries. A third has been in Milan in a new opera called Norma. For a young lady with a supremely good voice the world is open.’
Caroline said: ‘You refer to ladies. How many of your present ten pupils are in fact ladies?’ (Only Caroline would have asked that, Demelza thought.)
‘Er – three, no, four. The other six come from relatively humble backgrounds.’
‘And these high fees you charge? Are all your pupils charged the same?’
‘I have awarded two girls scholarships because their parents are quite unable to find any money at all. They have great promise, and I feel I am paying my own debt to society by giving them free tuition. Only one of these is a singer, the other is a student of the piano. Miss Poldark, if she comes, will no doubt make their acquaintance.’
After a thoughtful pause Demelza said: ‘Lieutenant Havergal will have told you we live in Cornwall. It is many miles from London. I think about three hundred. It takes two to three days by coach, and you cannot be certain sure by sea, sometimes shorter, often longer. My daughter is not yet seventeen. She goes to Mrs Hemple’s School in Truro and is taught singing by a local teacher, Mrs Hodgson. May I ask the – the ages of your other pupils?’
‘Seventeen to thirty-one.’
‘My husband and I are not – not anxious to stand in Bella’s way. If she really has such a fine voice we do not wish to prevent her from developing it. But in our view she is still so young, and although she boards with Mrs Hemple during the week she has never lived anywhere else but at home—’
‘Oh, Mama,’ said Bella. ‘I have lived in Paris!’
‘Yes, yes, but then that was our home. When you – if you were to live in London you would have to face it alone – or nearly alone. Do you board girls in the house?’
‘Yes, my lady. We have accommodation for four, but all these bedrooms are taken at present. Mrs Fredericks would I think be able to recommend someone nearby.’
‘I do not think that will be necessary,’ said Caroline. ‘I think my aunt would be willing to accommodate her, and a groom would escort her daily.’
‘I had not thought of such a thing,’ said Demelza, in surprise, pleasure and panic. She felt she was on a slope which was getting steeper and on which it was difficult to call a halt. She would dearly have loved Ross to be there to offer some more common-sense observations. Or did she mean objections?
‘Mozart,’ said Christopher. ‘I think—’
The piano upstairs was suddenly clearer, as if someone had opened a door.
‘It’s a sonata,’ he said, ‘but I’m not sure which one.’
‘Number One in C,’ said Fredericks approvingly.
‘Do you play the piano, Christopher?’ Caroline asked.
‘Alas, no.’
‘I believe that Miss Poldark does,’ said Fredericks.
‘Well, a little.’
‘That is something you must do if you come here. There must be many rests from singing so that you do not strain or tire your voice. And breathing lessons – that before you ever begin. And languages. You must know three or more languages at least well enough to understand them and to pronounce them. And deportment. And acting . . .’
Demelza looked at her daughter, sturdy and slender at the same time, her eager expression, her clear blue eyes, her luxuriant hair. There were two standards to be passed, not one. If indeed she had an exceptional voice, had she the mental stamina, the determination, the resolution to develop under some stern taskmaster? Had she any real idea what she might be undertaking?
Aware of her gaze, Bella looked at her mother and winked. This was the same young lady who during their flight from Paris had charmed a potentially dangerous group of Polish dragoons by playing an old harpsichord and singing the ‘Marseillaise’ in an old inn in France. It was equally easy to underestimate her. At that inn in St Quentin Demelza had watched her through the bars of the landing stairs, furious at her recklessness and half beside herself with anxiety as to what Bella might have plunged herself into. In long retrospect some of the fury had turned into pride. That her daughter, not yet fourteen, had had the courage to do such a thing: one’s heart beat faster even today at the thought of it. She and Ross had bred a girl of exceptional talent, exceptional courage, exceptional self-reliance. She deserved the best. Was this the best?
In the afternoon of the same day they went to see two other experts recommended by a musical friend of Mrs Pelham. The first was a Mr Peter Reumann, who was musical director of the King’s Theatre in the Haymarket. They were taken to the back of the theatre to meet him, where a rehearsal room was empty except for half a dozen chairs and a concert grand piano. He was another small man, but slight of build and with an obvious authority.
He took Bella to the piano and asked her to accompany him in a few simple tunes.
After fifteen minutes he said: ‘A quite distinctive voice and noble in one so young. It needs training, of course, and we do not have the teacher or the facilities here for such training. Here you could take small parts very soon – but, yes, I understand you are not seeking that – next summer we are considering productions that could offer her an opening. That way she would pick up a great deal; sometimes one can learn so much from others. I know of two young women who have prospered that way. Both of course took private lessons as well. If you change your mind and care to write me in about six months I will be willing to see you again. Can you act, Miss Poldark?’
‘I think so,’ said Isabella-Rose, all agog at being behind the scenes in one of the great theatres. ‘I would want to.’
‘Of course, of course. Acting is always an integral part of singing, whether in simple glees or in grand opera. You must appeal to the eye as well as to the ear.’ He added to Demelza: ‘She has not perhaps got your looks, madame, but she is the right build and already has presence.’
Caroline said: ‘You think her voice might be – exceptional?’
Reumann hesitated, then decisively: ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Ideally, where should she go for the best tuition?’
‘There is talk of opening a Royal College of Music. At present: Falconer, Fredericks, Alesi, Lotti Schneider. Perhaps those are the best four. If you are aiming merely for operetta, then you could not do better than go to Paris, where there are several excellent people.’
Caroline said: ‘We have an appointment with Madame Schneider at five.’
Madame Lotti Schneider, a fair-haired, buxom, handsome woman, said: ‘Com’ ’ere, meine liebe. Let me look
into your mouth. Your throat, my little, it is the instrument on vich you must play all your life. No? It is ’ere, ’ere and ’ere vence comes the tone, the quality. Come over ’ere to der piano. I see you breathe vell. Now let me ’ear this voice. Gently, gently at first in answer to ze piano, just as if you were soothing a little baby to sleep.’
This was a quiet street, not like the King’s Theatre, where even through closed windows one could hear the rumble of carts and carriages. Listening to her daughter’s voice following the piano up a note, up an octave, and gradually increasing in volume, Demelza thought: if Ross could hear her now he would realize what an intelligent girl Bella was. She seemed to know exactly what Madame Schneider wanted even though she was being spoken to in a thick German accent.
When it was over Lotti Schneider patted one of Bella’s hands. ‘Dat is very good. Lirico-Spinto is what you may become. You have a daughter of great talent, Lady Poldhu. She should ’ave a splendid future. I would be ’appy to take her – and will do so, but I ’ave to say I am shortly to embark on a concert tour of Europe: Rome, Milan, Vienna, Berlin. When this ’appen my pupils do not ’ave the best attention. Natural, I give exercises to fill up their time with careful study. Do you have foreign languages? French, Italian? I leave London after Christmas and shall contemplate to return at Easter. She could gain much in working with a professional mezzo like me, but dere are drawbacks too.’
Demelza said: ‘But you think, madame, dat – that my daughter should go on with her studies?’
‘Of a certainty. Oh yes. Oh, yes. Oh, yes. But the voice needs careful ’andling. You must avoid wear and tear. The slower one progresses, the more surely one progresses. Many leap too soon. Of course in my vorld there is much competition. But dere is always room for another if the talent is dere. I personally, venever I can, sing Mozart. This can be a top singer’s salvation – it helps to stay on der right path.’
‘Do you have many pupils?’ Caroline asked.
‘Two, three only. But dey are not quite pupils. Dey are already singers. But Lady Poldhu, could you come back, return, after Easter? I can teach your daughter a great deal. A year mit me is worth two year mit anyone else.’
In the evening, after a quiet supper, when for once Mrs Pelham was entertaining no other guests, they went into the choices thoroughly: Demelza, Bella, Caroline, Christopher, Mrs Pelham.
Demelza said: ‘Caroline, you are my oldest friend. Tell us, please, what thoughts you have.’
Caroline rubbed her long patrician nose. ‘First, I suppose you have to say that Christopher was right. Not only the teacher of his choice but two others, nominated by Aunt Sarah, have confirmed his opinion. This seems to prove that Isabella-Rose has exceptional talent. They would – could not be generous without good cause. Therefore, if you can afford the fees – and I know Ross can – the likely decision is that she should have a year or more’s training to see what progress she makes.’
Christopher said: ‘I have already offered to pay the fees.’
‘We could not accept that,’ said Demelza. ‘Thank you all the same. We can meet them.’
‘Let us agree then that the expense is not a hindrance. Do we agree on the rest?’
After a pause Demelza said: ‘I think so . . . yes.’
‘Then for that year – or several years if all goes well – the question is . . .’. Caroline stopped. ‘No. It is good of you to give me the floor, my dear, but I should not be talking like a judge dealing with the custody of a child. She is your child. I must not take over your role.’
Demelza said: ‘But do you not see, Caroline, that it is because I am her mother I cannot see this detached. So please go on.’
Silence fell. Caroline sighed.
‘Well, if that is the provisional decision, some other important decisions or choices will need to be made. Of the three highly placed professionals we have seen today I know Bella would choose Mr Reumann—’
‘I never really said that!’ exclaimed Bella.
‘I heard you whispering to Christopher, and I know why you fancy Mr Reumann, my dear. It is because he inhabits a theatre. And one of the finest in London. You came over visibly faint at the sight of stepladders and panels of scenery and the smell of cosmetics.’
‘You must not pull a face like that, Bella,’ Demelza said, ‘you must be polite to your aunt.’
Caroline laughed. ‘Aunt in name only.’
Christopher said: ‘But did not Reumann say he could not take Bella at present? He surely meant – in fact he said – come back in six months.’
‘True.’
‘Of course I was not with you,’ Mrs Pelham said, ‘but Madame Schneider sounds the most romantic to me – and perhaps the most practical! Indeed, I have heard her sing more than once, and her help would be invaluable. She is performing at present? Otherwise I might have invited her to sup with us before you returned home.’
‘Duke Street, St James’s, is much further from here than Chancery Lane,’ Caroline remarked. ‘It is worth thinking of in the winter.’
Demelza thought of that other side of London, of which they had seen plenty today, the endless beggars, some of them ex-soldiers lacking limbs, the pigs rooting free in the gutter, the crush of traffic, the smell of drains, the pie sellers, the quacks, the knife grinders who crammed the edges of the pavements, the ragged boys and barefoot children.
She said: ‘Mrs Pelham, is it true – I only heard mention of it this forenoon – is it true that you would allow Bella to live here for a very short while until she found her feet? Tis really good of you—’
‘My dear,’ said Mrs Pelham, looking benevolently at Isabella-Rose. ‘That was not quite what I said. My meaning was that I should be pleased – indeed happy – to invite her to live here, not for a short time but for just as long as ever it may suit her.’
Mrs Pelham had not met Demelza’s second daughter before this week and was clearly much taken with her.
Bella beamed at her, and when she smiled like this it was as if all her face lit up. It could not have been a more suitable friendship for all concerned. Mrs Pelham was wealthy, well supplied with servants, constantly entertaining but personally lonely, knew most of the best people in London, had a private carriage (which she seldom used), lived in this big, handsomely proportioned house, often went to the theatre, had no children of her own.
Demelza wriggled uncomfortably in her chair to try to rid herself of a curious stab somewhere in the breast or upper stomach. She refused to recognize it at first, but after settling down again and murmuring her most profuse thanks to Mrs Pelham, she had to acknowledge that the uncomfortable stab was a feeling of jealousy. Not of course jealousy of Bella, for whom this visit was turning out more favourably than she surely could ever have dared to hope; but jealousy of Sarah Pelham, who, henceforward, if this plan now went ahead, would see far more of Bella than Demelza could ever hope to do.
Somewhere in the depths of her soul a solitary miserable creature was weeping. ‘I lost my first daughter Julia years ago when she was scarcely more than a baby; and then it is only three years since Jeremy my elder son, at the height of his charm and youthful maturity, was killed at Waterloo; now I have to part with my youngest daughter, gone three hundred miles away, to live in this beautiful house with this elegant elderly lady, in pursuit of a singing career. What a tragedy it is that she ever met Christopher Havergal. How much happier Nampara would be with her at school in Truro and singing for fun. How much happier Bella herself might be in the end!’
She swallowed and said: ‘I b’lieve Madame Schneider would take her. And Dr Fredericks, I’m sure. You – you would advise Madame Schneider, Mrs Pelham?’
‘When I first heard of Dr Fredericks as the best teacher in London,’ said Christopher Havergal, ‘and took Bella to see him in July, I had no certain idea where she would be able to stay. As you all know, I hope to marry her, but have willingly agreed to a postponement, and I have been much exercised in the matter of finding somewhere suitabl
e for her to board. But of course Mrs Pelham’s magnificent offer makes this all unnecessary. Ma’am, I shall consider this the greatest favour you could offer us. Thank you.’
Mrs Pelham smiled.
He went on: ‘Mrs Enys has raised the question of the distance the two teaching establishments are from here. Dr Fredericks is little more than half a mile, Madame Schneider is nearly two miles. I have been measuring it on a map. This perhaps should not be the main factor in a decision, but it might be taken into account.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Caroline, ‘we should ask Bella how she feels.’
Bella smiled one of her irradiating smiles. ‘I am – enchanted.’
‘With either?’
‘With either.’
Chapter Six
While her mother and Isabella-Rose were away Clowance went to Nampara to keep Ross company and to be an extra companion for Harry. As the cross-country route was slightly more risky in the winter, she decided to take the coach road to Truro, where Matthew Mark Martin would meet her to escort her the rest of the way.
Halfway to Truro she made a short detour to tell Harriet that she would not be at home for a week. Harriet of course was out with her hounds, so she went into the house and wrote a brief note for when she returned.
As she sanded the paper a footstep creaked in the hall, and she turned to see the lanky figure of Philip Prideaux bearing down on her.
‘Mrs Carrington. How good it is to see you. I fear Harriet is out.’
‘So I have discovered. I should have known. You are not hunting this morning, Mr Prideaux?’
‘No. I thought to stay in and read. Sometimes I think I have had rather too much to do with horses in my life.’
He wore the usual stiff collar, a silk stock, a fine white cambric shirt under a bottle green jacket, tight black trousers. He had just put his glasses on.
The footman who had let her in was waiting by the door.
Clowance said: ‘I am going to see my father on the north coast, so I must make haste.’
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