Music from the Heart Read online

  “I cannot believe it!” she said again.

  “Nor can I,” D’Arcy Archer replied quietly.

  “I realise you saved – my life by pulling me out of the coach,” she said, “and I am very – grateful.”

  “It would have been better if I had died instead of that poor girl,” Mr. Archer said. “I am an old man and I have lost my last chance, but there was no reason for her to die.”

  Because she thought that it might be rude to seem unsympathetic, Ilouka asked,

  “Why is it your last chance?”

  “I don’t suppose you would be interested, but I’ve been down in my luck of late.”

  “You mean you are not getting parts in the theatre?”

  “I think I have haunted the offices of every Theatrical Agent in London,” D’Arcy Archer said bitterly, “but the only money I’ve been able to make was by singing and telling jokes in taverns and the clientele of those places are not very generous.”

  “I am sorry,” Ilouka said softly as there seemed to be nothing else that she could say.

  “Then yesterday, straight out of the blue,” D’Arcy Archer went on, “I had the chance of a lifetime.”

  “What was it?” Ilouka enquired with interest.

  “I was in an Agent’s office, begging him almost on my knees to find me work. Even if it only brought in a few shillings I knew it would prevent me from starving.”

  He drew in his breath before he asserted,

  “Yes, starving! The word may shock you, but it happens to be the truth.”

  “What happened?” Ilouka asked.

  “He’d just told me there was nothing and he was sick of seeing my ugly face,” D’Arcy Archer answered, “when a letter was brought to him by a groom in livery. The Agent, Solly Jacobs by name, took the note and opened it and while he read it I waited.

  “‘You can tell your Master,’ he said to the groom, ‘that I’ve no one who will go to the country when there’s plenty of work for them here in London.’”

  Ilouka was listening to him now, intrigued in what Mr. Archer was saying and, as if her attention encouraged him, he continued,

  “Because I was desperate I said, ‘I’ll go to the country!’

  “‘Solly Jacobs laughed.’

  “‘Oh, you would, would you? Well, his Lordship wants something pretty who is new to entertain his friends.’

  “‘What does his Lordship want?” I asked quickly in case the groom should leave.’

  “Solly Jacobs took the note and threw it across the desk at me.’

  “‘See for yourself,’ he said.”

  “I then picked up the note and I think my hands were trembling. I had a feeling that was almost clairvoyant that this would mean something to me and perhaps my luck would turn.”

  “What did the letter say?” Ilouka asked.

  “It said that the Earl of Lavenham required two high-class entertainers for a party he was giving at his house in Hertfordshire tomorrow night. He was prepared to pay any sum that was reasonable provided he had the best.”

  D’Arcy Archer paused as if to see what impression his story had made on Ilouka. Then, because she did not speak, he said,

  “You must have heard of the Earl of Lavenham, the best-known sportsman on all of the Racecourses, rich as Croesus and beautiful women surround him like moths round a flame.”

  “No, I have never heard of him – at least I don’t think so,” Ilouka mused.

  “Then you can take my word for it, he’s the tops in the Social world,”

  “Do go on with your story.”

  As he continued, D’Arcy Archer’s air of despondency seemed to lift and he then sounded quite animated.

  “So I said to Solly Jacobs, ‘if his Lordship wants the best, he can have it. You can leave that to me’!

  “‘What are you talking about?’ Solly Jacobs enquired.’

  “‘I’m telling you that I can supply the goods all right,’ I replied’.

  “‘And how can you do that?’ he asked.’

  “‘Well, I suppose you would think that one of the leads from the Olympic Revels would please his Lordship and his friends?’

  “‘If you’re talking about trying to get Madame Vestris,’ Solly Jacobs remarked, ‘you can forget it. She wouldn’t demean herself to go out of London for anyone not even Lavenham!’

  “‘I wasn’t thinking of Vestris herself,’ I replied, ‘but what about her understudy?’”

  D’Arcy Archer paused and laughed.

  “You should have seen Solly Jacobs’ face!”

  “‘Are you certain you can get her?’ he quizzed me.

  “‘Quite certain,’ I replied. ‘She’s been playing a small part in the Revels and she also understudies Madame Vestris. At it happens, she’s a relative of mine.’

  “‘I don’t believe it!’ Solly Jacobs said to me.”

  “‘It’s true!’ I answered. ‘Lucille Ganymede is her name and she’ll not come for peanuts! But I’ll fix it up.’”

  “I knew as I spoke from the expression on Jacob’s face that he only half-believed me, but he had no wish to refuse to do what the Earl wanted. He sent the groom away, telling him to come back for an answer in two hours’ time and then he said to me, ‘you’ve got two hours to fix it all up.’”

  “‘I’ll fix it,’ I said, ‘but now I want to know how much you are soaking his Lordship for.’

  ‘“That’s my business!’ Jacobs said, ‘But I’ll make it worth your while and the girl’s. I’ll give you fifty pounds all in. You pay the girl what she wants for her services and I’ll keep the rest.’”

  D’Arcy Archer sighed.

  “I knew that ‘the rest’ would be a jolly heavy amount, but I was not disposed to argue. I knew that Lucille would not come cheap, but I also happened to know that she was hard up at the moment, had lost her protector and would at least listen to what I had to say.”

  “If she was acting at the Royal Olympic Theatre,” Ilouka enquired, “how could she get away?”

  “I can explain that. The last Season at the Royal Olympic has only just ended. It started in January and finished in April and Madame Vestris is having a rest, as is the rest of the cast, before they start up again.”

  “Oh, I understand,” Ilouka exclaimed. “So Miss Ganymede was free.”

  “Exactly. And she jumped at the opportunity of meeting the Earl. There’s not an actress in London who hasn’t tried to catch his eye when he sits in his box at the theatre.”

  D’Arcy Archer chuckled before he added,

  “Going down on their knees most of them are, hoping he’ll ask them out to supper, but he’s known to be fastidious and, as one of them said to me, ‘I’m more likely to be invited on a spree with the Man in the Moon than with the stuck-up Earl of Lavenham.’”

  “Is he more important than any other gentleman?” Ilouka enquired.

  “He is and you would understand why if you did see him. Top-lofty, an aristocrat to his fingertips and you’re not likely to forget it.”

  He paused before he went on,

  “And everything he touches turns to gold. His horses are nearly always first past the Winning Post, gamblers go pale when they see him approaching the gaming tables and there is not a beautiful woman who doesn’t fall into his arms like a ripe peach!”

  Ilouka laughed because it sounded so funny.

  “It is all very well to laugh,” D’Arcy Archer said and the despondent note was back in his voice, “but you will now understand that without Miss Ganymede there is no point in my continuing my journey to the Earl’s house.”

  His voice was bitter as he continued,

  “I shall go back to London, tell Solly Jacobs I have failed and you may be quite certain he’ll want back what is left of his fifty pounds.”

  “It is not your fault,” Ilouka said sympathetically.

  “You tell that to Solly. He’ll have his ‘pound of flesh’ and I am the one who’ll have to give it to him.”

  D’A
rcy Archer suddenly threw himself back in his chair and put his hands over his eyes.

  “What is the point of going on?” he asked. “I’m old, finished and the sooner I’m in the grave the better!”

  He spoke dramatically, but Ilouka knew that he really meant it.

  She could understand just how bitter it was for him to lose the chance of making some money.

  Through the Earl’s undoubted influence, if he was pleased with him, Mr. Archer might have gained other engagements of the same sort, but he had now, in her father’s words, been ‘pipped’ at the post.’

  ‘Poor man!’ she thought. She realised that it was as hard for him losing the little actress as it was for her losing Hannah.

  She knew how upset her mother would be that Hannah was dead and, although she could not pretend that she was a particularly lovable person, she had been part of her childhood and she knew that in many ways she would feel lost without Hannah, especially when she was at Stone House.

  At least Hannah would have been a buffer between herself and Mrs. Adolphus, but now she would be alone there with nothing to do but control herself from answering back when her mother’s name was disparaged and everything she did was somehow wrong.

  She gave a deep sigh and thought that, when the Vicar returned, she would have to ask him how soon there would be another coach to carry her to the next part of the journey.

  Almost as if to think of him conjured him up, the Vicar came into the sitting room.

  He saw down beside Ilouka and said quietly,

  “I have now arranged, Miss Compton, for your maid and for the young lady to be buried tomorrow morning. Our local carpenter is making the coffins for them at this moment and I thought that if you wished to continue your journey, there would be no point in waiting any longer.”

  “No – of course not,” Ilouka replied, “and thank you very much for all the trouble you have taken.”

  She paused and then she asked,

  “Is there anywhere in the village where I can stay the night?”

  “You can stay here,” the Vicar said quickly. “I thought I had already made that clear. I have told my housekeeper to prepare a room for you and another for Mr. Archer.”

  “That is very kind of you, sir,” D’Arcy Archer smiled.

  “I am afraid you will find my house is not very luxurious,” the Vicar said with a faint smile, “but at least the rooms are clean, which I rather doubt they would be at The Green Man.”

  “I am very grateful.”

  As Ilouka spoke, she knew that her mother would be horrified at the idea of her staying alone without Hannah to chaperone and look after her at an inn, however small and remote it might be.

  “At what time will there be a stagecoach tomorrow?” D’Arcy Archer said. “Not to take me in the same direction that I was travelling in today but back to London?”

  “That is something I shall have to find out,” the Vicar replied. “I think there is a man in the kitchen at the moment who will be able to answer that question for you.”

  He rose and left the room and, when he had gone, Ilouka declared,

  “I am so sorry for you, Mr. Archer. I do wish I could help.”

  “I wish you could too,” he replied.

  Next, as if she had suddenly put the idea into his head, he then looked at her and his eyes seemed to take in for the first time since the accident the beauty of her face, the grace of her slim body and her tiny feet, which peeped beneath her travelling gown.

  He sat up, bending towards her.

  “Tell me please, Miss Compton, can you sing?”

  “I have always sung at home,” Ilouka answered, “and actually, now that I think of it, one of the songs my mother has played for me is one that was made famous by Madame Vestris. It is the Bavarian Girls’ song called Bring My Broom.”

  D’Arcy Archer drew in a deep breath and, clasping his hands together so that he could control them, he added,

  “And I am certain, almost certain, that you can dance.”

  Ilouka smiled at him and her eyes twinkled.

  “Because that is something people often say to me,” she answered, “I should now feel ashamed if I said ‘no’. Actually I love to dance.”

  There was a little pause.

  Then D’Arcy Archer said in a voice that sounded strange,

  “You know what I am asking you, no, not asking you – but begging, praying, pleading, beseeching you to do?”

  Ilouka looked at him in surprise.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I am asking you to save me, to give me the chance that I have just lost through Fate or perhaps by the intervention of the Devil!”

  “I-I don’t – understand.”

  “It’s quite simple, Would you, out of the charity of your heart, save a poor old man from starvation?”

  “Are you asking me to – give you – money?” Ilouka enquired hesitatingly.

  She felt that it was rather embarrassing that Mr. Archer should plead with her in such a manner. But after what he had said she had been wondering how, without offence, she could give him perhaps five pounds from the money she had with her for her travelling expenses.

  “It is not a question of money,” he said quickly in a low voice. “I just want you to take Lucille’s place. If you will do that, Miss Compton, you will literally and truly save my life!”

  For a moment it seemed to Ilouka that she would not comprehend what he was actually asking her to do.

  When he had enquired whether she could sing or dance, she had thought that he was just interested in acting, but it had never struck her for a moment that he was begging her to take an actress’s place and go with him to fulfil the engagement he had with the Earl.

  Now he had put it into words and her first instinct was to say that it was something she could not possibly do.

  Then like a voice whispering insidiously in her ear she asked herself,

  ‘Why not?’

  It would undoubtedly be a kindness and she was quite certain that the story Mr. Archer had told her was the truth and that his despair at losing Lucille was not assumed.

  Then she thought how horrified and shocked her mother would be at such an idea.

  At the same time she could also see a picture of the bleak ugly house waiting for her in Bedfordshire.

  She could almost hear Mrs. Adolphus’s scolding voice and she knew she would feel that she was trapped in what was a particularly unpleasant prison for weeks or perhaps months, if Muriel could not wring a proposal out of Lord Denton quickly.

  Now once again she realised how gloomy and lost she would be without Hannah.

  At least the old maid was very loyal to her mother and would in her own way somehow protect her from the worst unkindnesses that her stepfather’s sister would inflict upon her.

  ‘If I do what Mr. Archer wants,’ she thought, ‘it will at least take one day off the time I have to spend at Stone House for, even if Aunt Alice will have me, I cannot stay there long because they are so poor and I might have to go back to Stone House.’

  It all swept through her mind, not smoothly and rhythmically like something that was pleasant, but jerkily and disjointedly so that everything seemed worse.

  ‘I cannot go there without Hannah,’ Ilouka thought.

  D’Arcy Archer was still looking at her pleadingly, his hands clasped together, his eyes somehow like a spaniel dog’s looking trustingly at its Master.

  “I-I think – perhaps I rather exaggerated my – talents,” Ilouka admitted. “I am sure I am not – good enough to do anything – professional that you would expect of me.”

  “I will be frank with you and say, that while Lucille danced quite well and could sing with a pretty contralto voice, otherwise she would not have understudied Madame Vestris, she had little personality and she was not in any way as beautiful as you are.”

  He paused before he added impressively,

  “I am not trying to flatter you, Miss Compton. I am merely tellin
g you the truth when I say that I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my whole life!”

  “Thank you. But while I want to help you, Mr. Archer, you must realise that anything to do with the theatrical profession, even though this particular entertainment takes place in a private house, would seem very shocking to my mother.”

  “I think all mothers and Ladies of Quality treat the stage with suspicion,” D’Arcy Archer remarked, “but I do promise you. Miss Compton, I will look after you and make quite certain that everybody treats you with respect and propriety.”

  He paused before he continued,

  “I happen to know that the Earl’s interest is very much engaged at the moment with a very talented young actress who is appearing at Drury Lane and in the Social world he has the pick of all the beauties who are toasted from one end of St. James’s Street to the other!”

  “What you are saying, Mr. Archer, is that in no circumstances is he likely to be interested in me,” llouka suggested.

  “I am trying to reassure you, Miss Compton, that your visit will not involve you with his Lordship nor, I hope, any of his friends. In fact I have always been told that the Earl is very fastidious as to whom he entertains.”

  “You certainly seem to know a great deal about him.”

  D’Arcy Archer laughed.

  “Maybe I am presuming on knowledge that comes just from hearsay, the chatter in the theatre dressing rooms and the gossip that occurs when men get together and discuss Race Meetings and whose horses are most likely to win.”

  “I am sure that I must have heard of the Earl in that connection,” llouka said. “My father always followed the turf, but I cannot remember the Earl winning either the Derby or the Gold Cup at Ascot.”

  “He did win the Derby three years ago,” D’Arcy Archer contradicted, “but at that time his name was ‘Hampton’.”

  “Oh, but of course!” llouka exclaimed. “Now I know whom you are talking about. He won with a horse called ‘Apollo’, which my father claimed was the finest animal he had ever seen in his life.”

  “That is something I am sure the Earl would like you to tell him.”

  llouka looked at him in a startled manner.