Child Of Music (13 page)

She felt almost lonely at first in her unfamiliarly exalted position. Then a steady stream of people began to come in from both sides of the auditorium and she watched with interest. But although she noted one or two well-known personalities among them, the one for whom she was looking was not there. So, having failed to discover Stephen Tarkman, she addressed herself to her
programme
and read the excellent
résumé
of the story which seemed tragic and complicated enough to satisfy any opera-lover.

It was faintly disappointing to have the seats on either side of her occupied by strangers. But she had hardly hoped that Stephen's seat would be actually beside her, and he
had
promised to look for her when the evening was over so that he could take her backstage with him. Until then the performance would be enough to engage every scrap of her interest, she felt sure. And, even as she thought that Oscar Warrender came into the orchestra pit. He threaded his way among music-stands and players to a gathering volume of half affectionate, half respectful applause, took his place at the conductor's desk and raised his baton.

Even years later Felicity was to look back upon that performance of
'Adriana
Lecouvreur
' with undiminished wonderment and pleasure. For to see Anthea, whom she dearly liked, flower into superb artistic
fulfilment
was something which moved and excited her beyond measure.

She was not uncritical, even where her affections were deeply engaged. Her musical sense was too highly developed and her natural taste
too
fine for that. But just because her standards were high she was able to
savour
to the full the achievement of the girl who had once been her fellow student, and her own generosity of spirit enabled her to assess and enjoy someone else's triumph as though it had been her
own.

It is not unusual, Felicity knew, to hear a beautiful voice. But to hear a beautiful voice which has been developed instead of exploited, nurtured instead of forced, is a joy which warms the heart and enriches the spirit. She looked at the strong, intelligent, rather hard face of Oscar Warrender in the light from the orchestra and she thought, 'No wonder she loves him if he really did all that for her.'

Then she was lost again in the absorbing drama taking place on the stage, for Anthea — a fine actress in her own right — was supported by one of the few great singing actors of the age in the part of the ageing stage director who loves
Adriana
without hope of return.

In the first interval Felicity wandered out and up the great main staircase to the crush-bar, and here she almost immediately ran into Stephen Tarkman. He, whom she had always regarded as rather difficult to move, was as enthusiastic as she was, and they were discussing the first act with mutual enjoyment when she saw his gaze shift fractionally from her face, and he looked beyond her as though something or someone had riveted his attention.

She was not entirely surprised when, a second later, Julia Morton's voice said behind her, 'Hello, Stephen. I thought you might be here tonight. Especially as you didn't manage the first night.'

'No, I couldn't get to town until today. Miss Grainger and I drove up this afternoon,' explained Stephen, drawing Felicity into the conversation.

'Miss—? Oh.' Julia registered Felicity's presence with a cool, sweet smile which so entirely dismissed her from the scene that, against all her inclination or intention, Felicity found herself giving a careless little nod and then moving off, as though she had seen someone else she knew.

As she did so, she heard the other woman say, in a pleasantly warm and intimate tone, 'What about supper afterwards, Stephen? I've been — missing you.'

The slight catch in her voice was extremely effective, and Felicity would not have been human if she had not lingered to hear Stephen's reply.

'I'm giving a party afterwards for the Warrenders,' she heard him say. 'I hope you'll join us.'

'And I hope she won't!' thought Felicity, angry and disappointed. But she could not imagine Julia passing
up a chance like that. She would come all right — and half Felicity's pleasure would be gone.

She returned to her seat in somewhat
sombre
spirits. Gone was her chance of being taken round backstage, she felt sure. Having found him, Julia would see to it that he remained her escort for the evening. Indeed, glancing up and to the side, Felicity saw that Stephen and Julia Morton were entering a box on the first tier. She could not decide if he were joining her, or she him. But in either case her own chances of a happy evening in his company had vanished.

Better concentrate on drawing all the enjoyment she could from the performance, for she could not imagine that she would see much more of Stephen that evening. This she did to such good effect that her eyes were full of tears during the last scene — partly because Anthea was so truly moving and partly, it must be admitted, because of her own disappointment. With Anthea dying on the stage, poisoned by a jealous rival, and Julia Morton sitting triumphantly beside Stephen Tarkman in the box, it really did seem that the unjust were having it altogether too much their own way.

Fortunately, however, good sense dried her tears before they could actually spill over, and Felicity found herself clapping madly for Anthea and Warrender and the baritone and the tenor — but most of all for Anthea, who restored her morale in the most engaging way by picking her out in the audience and smiling at her from the stage.

Sufficiently sure of herself now to go backstage on her own, she joined the slowly moving crowd now making their way out. But in the foyer Stephen Tarkman came up to her, took her evening wrap from her
arm and put it round her shoulders and said, 'You're going to need that. It's turned chilly, and we have to go outside to reach the stage door.'

'Isn't — I mean, aren't we waiting for Mrs. 'Morton?'

'No. She has gone ahead to the hotel. Dressing-room adulation isn't much in her line, you know.'

No, it wouldn't be! Felicity thought. Not enough generosity there for her to be able to admire someone else wholeheartedly. But she kept that thought strictly to herself. And when they had passed the stage-door and negotiated the cheerless stone passages and steps which are in such strange contrast to the glamour usually associated with stage life, they arrived at Anthea's dressing-room.

She was still in her last-act costume, starry-eyed and slightly flushed with triumph and happiness. There were several people in the room, but when she saw Felicity she held out her hand, while continuing to talk to someone else, and for a few seconds only the clasp of that strong, warm hand told Felicity how pleased she was to have her there.

The woman to whom she was speaking was small, elderly and unfashionably dressed, but Anthea gave the most affectionate attention to her, even though it was obvious that slight criticism mingled with the admiration she was expressing.

Then Anthea said, 'Felicity, this is Miss Sharon, my first singing teacher. It was she who encouraged me to go in for the competition where I met Oscar.'

'No, no, my dear!' Miss Sharon corrected her with some asperity. 'I didn't
encourage
you. I was against it, if you remember. You were not ready then for anything of the sort. But since you insisted I tried to see to it that you were well prepared. Fortunately Mr. Warrender was sensible enough to see you didn't win, and then he was able to take on your training himself.'

'Yes. Very unscrupulous of him,' Anthea said with a laugh.

'Very far-seeing,' retorted the old singing teacher. 'And most fortunate for you. The end justified the means.'

Then she moved aside and, before Anthea could turn to Felicity, her place was taken by a very different figure, a woman beautiful in a strange, ageless way, and so authoritative that Felicity was not surprised to see everyone draw back instinctively for her.

'Madame Peroni!'
Anthea exclaimed, and for a moment her fingers tightened on Felicity's hand before she released her. 'I didn't know you were in the house.'

'Didn't you get my flowers, dear child?'
Peroni
leaned forward and kissed her on both cheeks. 'I made sure they would be in time.'

'I'm sure they were. Forgive me—' suddenly Felicity realized that Anthea was also talking in the same charming, meaningless way, a little as though they were going through some ritual. 'I haven't had time to look at all the cards. But how sweet of you to come.
I
thought you were in Paris.'

'I was. I flew over yesterday.
I couldn't stay away.
"Adriana"
was always a favourite role of mine.
Ai
-
ai—'
she had an absolutely matchless way of combining this exclamation with a sigh — 'Oscar and I did it so many times together. He has coached you well, my dear. With a little more experience—' she left the sen
tence unfinished as though criticism, though called for, must not perhaps be put into words. 'I must go and see Oscar. The usual room, I suppose?'

'Yes, I think so.'

'I must ask him why he took the monologue faster than usual. Perhaps he felt those long phrases might prove too difficult—' again she left that unfinished. Then she added, with a charming, tolerant smile, 'It takes a very experienced singer indeed to manage those phrases at the right pace.'

Then she kissed Anthea again and went her way. And little Miss Sharon said in an awed tone, 'Was that
Peroni,
Anthea?'

'Yes,' replied Anthea briefly.

'Without doubt a very great artist. But not a very
nice
person.'

'Not very,' Anthea agreed with a smile. Then, as Miss Sharon took her departure, she turned at last to Felicity and said cryptically, 'You see what I mean?'

'Absolutely!' Felicity laughed. 'But I don't think you need fear anyone tonight, my dear.'

At that Anthea's expression relaxed suddenly and she said, 'Hello, Stephen,' to Felicity's companion. And Stephen asked curiously, 'What was it that Felicity was supposed to see about
Peroni?'

'Just a basic likeness to someone we neither of us like,' Anthea assured him lightly.
'I
must clear the room now, darlings, and get changed. If you love me, Stephen, go and see
Peroni
doesn't have a long
tête-à-tête
with Oscar. And, whatever the blandishments, don't ask her to the supper-party, or I'll never speak to you again.'

'I promise,' he said with a smile. Then he and Fel
icity left and went to the conductor's dressing-room, where they found him being very pleasant and rather distant to
Peroni,
and
Peroni
being very pleasant and rather intimate to him.

If he was either relieved or annoyed to have the conversation interrupted he showed no signs of it, and it struck Felicity that he was well able to handle
Peroni