The Lorimer Legacy (11 page)

It was like falling in love, but with a certainty and a happiness that love itself had not brought her. Margaret had written to her several times, asking when she would return – recognizing that she could not leave Lady Glanville while she was still of use, but begging her to remember that she would always be welcomed and loved at Elm Lodge. Until this moment Alexa had taken her eventual return as much for granted as her guardian did. Now – although with no good reason to support her certainty – she was suddenly sure that she did not wish to live in England again.

What happened at Sirmione was that Alexa grew up. The startling moment when she had found herself clasped
in Lord Glanville's arms in the middle of Heidelberg had matured her emotionally. Never again would she be so completely the victim of her feelings as she had been during her brief relationship with Matthew. Now to that aspect of maturity she added a businesslike attitude to life – and, in particular, to the organization of her own career. Until this time she had relied on other people. In view of her sex and upbringing, this was hardly surprising, but it had put her at the mercy of events in a way which she did not intend to tolerate in the future. Her ambitions were clear, and equally clear was the fact that from now on she must achieve them by her own efforts. She recognized the good fortune that had come to her aid in the past year, but it was time to take control into her own hands.

Gratitude, however, had still a part to play. As long as Lady Glanville lived, Alexa was at her service. In the stifling atmosphere of the mud room she read aloud for hour after hour – for by now Lady Glanville's eyesight was affected as well as her muscles. Every evening she sang and played the piano, quietly and soothingly, without expecting any reaction from the invalid on the sofa. But as time passed and it became ever clearer that her services would not be needed for very much longer, she took one step to ensure that when Lord Glanville offered to take her back to England she would have the means to refuse.

The moment came when some shopping had to be done, requiring a greater variety of merchandise than the tiny walled village of Sirmione could provide. The maid had drawn up a list of necessities, but she spoke no Italian, so Alexa's offer to accompany her was welcomed. Lady Glanville herself insisted that Alexa should turn the chore of shopping into an interesting expedition – and Alexa had already made local enquiries which suggested the best place to choose from her own point of view.

So she and the maid did not go to Verona, in spite of the fact that this was the nearest and best-stocked city. Although it had already become Alexa's ambition to take part one day in the opera season which was mounted each year in the Arena there, she recognized that she could not hope to make her start so near to the top of the ladder. Instead, they boarded the west-bound train and, passing through Brescia, came very soon to Bergamo. By the time the shops closed for the afternoon siesta they had obtained everything they needed in the modern town at the foot of the hill. The maid, isolated in a remote part of a foreign country for so long, was eager to spend an hour or two enjoying the animation of city life, even if she could not understand it, and Alexa willingly climbed with her into the old fortified town which was perched on a hilltop. Together they explored the narrow cobbled streets and dignified market squares which surrounded the great cathedral. Together they looked down from the walls at the green countryside around.

‘I have one more errand to do,' Alexa said abruptly. All morning she had been wondering whether she had the courage. To express her intention, even though she gave no details of it, would commit her to the action. She appointed a time when they should meet again, ready for the return journey, and then walked alone down the hill.

By the time she arrived outside the Teatro Donizetti she was panting a little, more with apprehension than because of her speed of walking. To recover her breath, she paused in the shelter of a wide avenue of horse chestnuts and stared across at the theatre. Its stout wooden doors were closed, and the heavy blocks of grey and pink stone from which its façade was built suggested the massive strength of a fortress. She straightened her shoulders and summoned up all her courage. Even the
strongest fortress could fall to someone who besieged it with sufficient determination.

She knew that by now rehearsals must be in progress for the winter season of opera. Finding a side door open, she was guided to what she sought by a confusion of noise. A piano was playing, someone was singing, someone else was shouting over the song with instructions about movement, a carpenter in the background was hammering, a shabby group of people – the chorus, perhaps -were chattering none too quietly in a corner. All these sounds, except for the hammering, came to a ragged halt as Alexa appeared at the back of the stage.

‘What do you want?' The voice came from the darkness of the auditorium.

Alexa addressed herself to the man who was presumably the director of the opera. ‘I want to join your company, maestro.'

There was a roar of laughter. The two singers already on the stage looked at her pityingly: the members of the chorus mocked her.

‘Every street urchin in Bergamo would like to join our company,' the director called up as his amusement subsided. ‘But I choose my own singers and they are chosen. Go back the way you came, if you please. You have no right to be here.'

Alexa did not bother to listen to what he had to say, knowing in advance that it could be nothing but a refusal. Instead, she began to sing almost as he began to speak. She had prepared herself for this moment, pondering for hours over the choice of an aria which needed no accompaniment, which showed her voice to its best advantage, and which contained no pause or quiet interlude which would allow of interruption. La Becattini had done her work well, developing a natural talent into a powerful instrument. As Alexa sang, the director's protests faded,
allowing the unauthorized audition to continue. When she had finished, there was a moment's silence and only on the face of the woman who had been singing when Alexa arrived was there still any hostility to be seen. The director stood up and walked with great deliberation on to the stage. It took him some time. Alexa felt her legs trembling as she tried to maintain a look of confidence. He planted himself in front of her, his legs apart, and his voice was rough and disdainful.

‘And I suppose you think, just because you are able to trill a little, that we shall fall on your neck at once and ask you to be our Marguerite, our Mimi, our Tosca.'

It had been difficult for Alexa not to hope exactly that in the day-dreams which at first had taken the place of plans. But she had her ambitions under tight control by now. She was asking for work, not indulging a fantasy, and she was determined to get it.

‘Of course not, maestro. I hope that you might give me employment in the chorus. And that if you think me worthy, I might be allowed to understudy some of the smaller parts. I have studied under La Becattini and know how to prepare a role. But of course I realize that I lack experience. If you take me into your company, I will do whatever I am told.'

There was a second silence. This time it must surely be a hopeful sign. If he were going to send her away, would he not have done it at once?

‘Your voice is too strong for the chorus,' he said. ‘I'm sorry. You sing not too badly, but –'

A short, plump woman emerged from the shadows at the side of the stage to interrupt him, murmuring something that Alexa was not near enough to hear. For a third time the director looked her up and down.

‘I am reminded of a baby expected in March,' he said. ‘It may be that by December Signora Fiorentino will
cease to carry conviction as a young unmarried maid. Well, you may attend rehearsals if you wish, and prepare to act as understudy for her roles when it becomes necessary. But it would be on the understanding that you are not employed until you are needed.'

Alexa accepted the arrangement with a promptness that gave him no time for second thoughts. It could not have fallen out better, for she would not have been free to join the company immediately even if her request had been successful. Now it seemed that she could not only stay on with Lady Glanville, but would have time to prepare the roles and might hope that they would not be too insignificant. It was not conceit but realism which assured Alexa that a single performance would be enough to secure her a place in the company. She knew her own ability.

The director asked her name. She had been known as Alexa Lorimer since Margaret adopted her, but now she replied without hesitation, ‘Alexa Reni.' It would not have occurred to any of them that she was a foreigner, and by using her mother's name the illusion could be maintained. Her colouring might be unusual for an Italian, but not unheard-of – the blonde and chestnut-haired models of Botticelli and Titian had come from this northern part of the country.

That evening, back in Sirmione, Alexa told Lady Glanville that she had found herself a new teacher in Bergamo, and asked permission to return there once a week for a lesson. The lie did not disturb her conscience, for it was made with the kindest of motives – she could hardly announce that she was making plans to prepare for Lady Glanville's own death.

The deception did not have to continue for very long. Lord Glanville used Christmas as his ostensible reason for abandoning his affairs in England in order to be with
his wife; but he arrived at the beginning of December and was vague about how long he would stay. A week was enough. As though she had only been waiting for the reunion, Lady Glanville died in his arms.

Deaths and homecomings so often follow each other that welcome and condolence become confused. Margaret already knew from Alexa's letters that Lady Glanville had not long to live. So when Robert called from his nursery window, one afternoon early in 1897, to say that he could see a carriage coming up the drive, she did her best to subdue her reactions. Neither sympathy nor etiquette, however, could prevent her from running to the door. Quite apart from the pleasure which she took in Lord Glanville's visits – for he had driven over from his country house, Blaize, several times since that first occasion on which he had acted as Alexa's postman – it was possible that today he might be bringing Alexa with him, her duties as a companion sadly brought to an end.

She was disappointed, but was given no time in which to be alarmed. Hardly had Lord Glanville stepped down from the carriage before he was reassuring her.

‘Alexa is well, but she has remained in Italy,' he said as they shook hands. ‘You shall have a full report. But first of all, I must have my Christmas present for Robert unloaded. It comes so late that he may think I have forgotten him.'

Margaret looked at the mourning ribbon round his arm. ‘Lord Glanville, I am so sorry –'

Their hands were still touching in greeting as she spoke. He brought his other hand up to enclose hers as though
he were the one to comfort her, and not the other way round.

‘Fanny's life in these past years was so full of pain that I can almost feel glad she is released from it,' he said. ‘I spent long enough grieving when I first saw how tightly the disease was gripping her, and again when I learned that there was no cure. Now I must teach myself to be happy that it's over. But I am glad of your sympathy.'

Not for the first time, as he squeezed her hand slightly, Margaret was warmed by the surprising friendship which had grown between them. As an aristocrat he did not trouble himself with the sort of conventions by which life at Brinsley House had been ruled; and Margaret – a widow, a professional woman, and by now in her fortieth year – was equally free of any doubts about the propriety of holding long discussions with a gentleman in the privacy of her drawing room.

She recognized, too, that in a quite different way he enjoyed her son's company almost as much as her own. Robert was an active, mischievous little boy with carrot-orange hair and a wide, friendly grin. He was not yet old enough to understand that he lacked a father, but the need must have been there subconsciously, for he attached himself to his mother's tall visitor whenever he could escape from his nursemaid's clutches. On this occasion, however, he was easily persuaded to follow the coachman, who was carrying a huge rocking horse up to the nursery.

‘You spoil him, Lord Glanville,' protested Margaret, as she watched her son delightedly practising his gallops even while he was still on the way upstairs.

‘One of the pleasures of life which I have most missed in the past has been that of giving presents to children,' he said.

Margaret did not argue. She knew that the lack of an
heir, a son to whom he could leave all his property as well as his title, was a grief which had been made all the stronger because of the impossibility of ever discussing it with his wife. But he would not want to discuss it with anyone else, either.

‘I returned to Sirmione as soon as the doctor wrote to tell me that Fanny had not much longer to live,' Lord Glanville said as soon as Robert's preoccupation with his new possession left the adults free to talk privately in the drawing room. ‘In the days before her death, I couldn't bring myself even to think about the future, much less to discuss it with anyone. I simply took it for granted that when the time came, Alexa would return with me to England.'

‘What alternative had she?' asked Margaret, as surprised now as he must have been then.

‘She told me, to my astonishment, that she had the promise of a temporary engagement with an opera company in Bergamo. She thanked me very nicely for the help I had given her. Then –' he laughed at the memory – ‘she turned against me the arguments I had sometimes used in speaking to her of my work with the Women's Committee, reminding me how strongly I felt that many women were more capable of responsibility than either they or anyone else allowed. She hoped that I would be glad to hear her decision: that from now on she ought to stand on her own feet.'