Nightingales by Mary Burchell

Author:Mary Burchell [Burchell, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2018-11-22T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Oscar Warrender was not a man to hesitate about his decisions. He said to the maid, ‘Show in Dr Elsworth,’ at precisely the same moment as Amanda breathed a protesting, ‘Oh, no!’

The maid very properly took this to be an independent exclamation on the visitor’s part and nothing so presumptuous as a countermanding of her employer’s order. She withdrew and Warrender said to Amanda, ‘You’d better sit down again.’

‘But I’d rather not see Dr Elsworth. At least—not now.’

‘You haven’t much choice,’ was the reply as the door opened once more and Lewis Elsworth was ushered in. He came towards Warrender with a smile and an outstretched hand. But the smile faded and the hand dropped to his side as he took in the other occupant of the room and, instead of addressing the conductor, he said sharply, ‘Amanda! What are you doing here?’

‘She came to consult me about something,’ explained Sir Oscar in an unusually mild tone of voice. ‘It was purely coincidental that she and you chose the same afternoon. Do you mind if Anthea joins the discussion? I think she would be interested.’ And without waiting for any comment from either Lewis or Amanda—should they have had any to make which seemed doubtful—he went to the door and called, ‘Darling!’

Even then it vaguely surprised Amanda that he should use such a term to anyone. But Anthea Warrender came immediately at his summons, greeted Lewis with a friendly air and then, suddenly noticing Amanda’s presence, said, ‘Hello! What a good idea for you to come too.’

‘We didn’t come together,’ stated Lewis stiffly.

‘No?’ Anthea looked questioning and slightly amused. It was her husband who explained with characteristic brevity, ‘Miss Amanda came to consult me on a professional problem, and Lewis happened to arrive ten minutes early for our appointment.’

‘May I ask what the professional problem was?’ enquired Lewis, still in that stiff way which Amanda found both infuriating and intimidating. But when Warrender glanced enquiringly at her she made a helpless little gesture of assent.

‘Amanda—’ he left out the ‘Miss’ this time—‘has been made a very tempting offer by Max Arrowsmith——’

‘I told her she was to have nothing to do with the man,’ interrupted Lewis furiously. ‘His enterprises are totally outside anything I have—I had—in mind for her.’

Amanda noted the significant change of tense with a sort of chilled dismay, for it implied so clearly that his plans for her no longer existed.

‘Could we know what the tempting offer was?’ Anthea asked with genuine curiosity, and as she addressed Amanda directly, it was Amanda who was forced to reply.

‘He’s promoting some sort of musical drama,’ she said huskily. ‘Jerome Leydon has composed the music—which is good of its kind. They and their—their professional associates want me to sing the leading role. I suppose you might say that I auditioned for them this afternoon.’

‘And what,’ enquired Warrender with interest, ‘did you sing for them at your audition?’

‘I first sang “Hear ye, Israel” and then——’

Until that moment it had never occurred to Amanda that the famous conductor could laugh so heartily.

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