Music from the Heart Read online

  “I have not said that I will agree to your very strange and to me outrageous proposition.”

  “But you will promise me that you will? How can I tell you, Miss Compton, what it will mean to me? If you do believe in answers to prayer, all I can say to you is that I’m praying fervently on my knees that you will not, like the Pharisees, pass by on the other side, but be a good Samaritan and save me.”

  Ilouka rose to her feet.

  “You are making it very difficult for me to refuse you, Mr. Archer, although I ought to do so.”

  “If we always did exactly what we ought to do, the world would be a very dull place. Put this down to an adventure, Miss Compton, something you will look back on and think that, although it was rather daring, it was at least an act of courage and certainly one of admirable Christian charity.”

  Ilouka walked to the window.

  She looked out on the untidy unkempt garden, but she did not see the shadows growing longer as the last glimmer of the sun sank over the distant horizon.

  Instead she saw the flatlands of Bedfordshire stretching away towards a grey horizon and she could hear the voice of Mrs. Adolphus, sharp as a needle, hurting her with every word she uttered.

  An adventure!

  Something exciting, something new, something that would help a man who, through no fault of his own, had lost the chance of a lifetime.

  How could she refuse him? How could she be so hard-hearted as just to hand him a few pounds, go away and forget him?

  She turned from the window.

  “I agree to what you have asked me to do ‒ Mr. Archer,” she said quietly.

  Chapter Three

  Driving in a Post-chaise, which D’Arcy Archer had found great difficulty in procuring, Ilouka thought that it was certainly swifter and more comfortable than the stagecoach.

  They had missed the stagecoach because it had passed through the village earlier in the day, when they were attending the funerals of Hannah and Lucille Ganymede.

  As they stood at the open graves in the small Churchyard where most of the tombstones were hundreds of years old, Ilouka felt that what was happening could not be reality.

  It just seemed impossible that she had left home with Hannah, being her usual oppressive rather disagreeable self and now, by the mere chance of where she had sat in the coach, she was dead.

  ‘If I had been sitting where she was,’ Ilouka thought, ‘I, like the young actress, would have died and Hannah would still be alive.’

  But she could only attribute what had happened to Fate or to the direction of some Power that was beyond the comprehension of man and for which there was no possible intelligible explanation.

  Whatever the reason for Hannah’s untimely death, Ilouka tried to pray ardently for her soul and that she would find peace and happiness in Heaven.

  She was aware that Mr. Archer, standing beside her, was looking sad and very old.

  It was as if with the death of the young actress he had brought from London that he had lost not only his hopes and ambitions for the future but perhaps the last remnant of his youth.

  Then Ilouka told herself that she was being imaginative and what she must do was follow the Burial Service word by word and pray for the souls of those who had left this world.

  When she had thanked the Vicar for his kindness and his hospitality and had given his housekeeper such a big tip for her services that she could hardly believe her eyes, Ilouka was glad to be able to leave.

  She knew that it was an episode in her life that she would want to forget, especially the terrifying moment when she had watched the stagecoach overturn and disappear down the small cliff where the road had collapsed.

  She had learnt from the Vicar that one horse had broken its leg and had to be destroyed and the other was very shaken by the accident and would have to rest for several days.

  ‘That is one good piece of news at any rate,’ Ilouka thought.

  She was quite certain that those who ran the stagecoach would hurry the poor horse back onto the road as quickly as possible.

  D’Arcy Archer told her when he came down to breakfast that he had sent to the nearest inn that could provide a Post-chaise.

  “It will take a little time to get here,” he said, “but I just could not ask you to travel in a stagecoach again, even if we had been able to catch the one that passed through here at eight o'clock this morning.”

  “I must admit it would make me feel nervous,” Ilouka replied.

  “What is more,” D’Arcy Archer carried on in a somewhat embarrassed tone, “I thought, Miss Compton that, as you are not a poor actress living only on her earnings, you would not perhaps require as large a remuneration for your services as Lucille demanded.”

  For the moment Ilouka found it difficult to reply.

  Then she said,

  “I hope you will understand, Mr. Archer, that I am doing this entirely to help you and I would not under any circumstances accept payment for what in your own words is an ‘act of charity’.”

  She saw by the smile which came to Mr. Archer’s lips and the expression in his eyes that this was what he had hoped she would say and was then delighted that he could keep all the money for himself.

  “I can only hope,” Ilouka went on, “that I am successful tonight and that his Lordship and perhaps his friends would engage you for other parties, for which you can replace Miss Ganymede with an equally accomplished actress.”

  “One day perhaps,” D’Arcy Archer replied in a low voice, “I shall be able to thank you for your kindness but at the moment I find it difficult to express myself in words.”

  “Then please say nothing,” Ilouka suggested.

  As soon as they set off in the Post-chaise, the professional in D’Arcy Archer came to the surface and he began to explain to Ilouka exactly what he expected from her that evening.

  “Usually on these occasions” he began, “the actors perform in the dining room while the gentlemen are drinking their port and still sitting at the table.”

  Ilouka looked surprised.

  “I suppose I somehow expected that anyone as rich as the Earl of Lavenham would have a private theatre or certainly a music room where such performances would take place.”

  “I’m sure that his Lordship possesses both,” D’Arcy Archer answered, “but this’ll be far more informal and in fact a very deluxe and aristocratic version of the drinking taverns where I have given my performances of late.”

  He spoke as if it had not been a very pleasurable experience and Ilouka quickly changed the subject by asking him what the programme would be.

  “First I’ll play some spirited music – ”

  “You are a pianist, Mr. Archer?” Ilouka interrupted.

  “I started in an orchestra at the Italian Opera House, but I soon wished to express myself as a person rather than as one of a team, so I struck out on my own.”

  “What did you do?”

  “You name it and I’ve done it! I have taken parts in plays by Shakespeare, I’ve travelled about the country. I’ve sung, danced and at one time or another accompanied some very fine singers.”

  “It must have been very interesting.”

  “Yes, but now I am old,” he remarked, “and nobody wants old men.”

  He spoke so sadly that Ilouka once again felt very sorry for him.

  Then, as if he had no wish to depress her, he continued with his instructions on what they would do,

  “I’ll get them laughing with jokes and songs at the piano that it’d be best for you not to listen to.”

  Ilouka looked surprised and he explained,

  “This is a party of gentlemen, Miss Compton, and I don’t think that there’ll be any ladies present.”

  Ilouka felt as if he was a little doubtful on this score.

  She did not realise that D’Arcy Archer was using ‘ladies’ as the operative word and that the Earl might be entertaining a very different class of women, which would undoubtedly shock anyone as young as Ilou
ka.

  Then he told himself that he was being needlessly apprehensive.

  “Where we are going,” he now said aloud, “is the Earl’s country seat, the home of the Hampton family, who are distinguished the length and breadth of England.”

  As he spoke, he was quite certain that whatever the Earl might do in London, he would not bring women of doubtful virtue into his home.

  Because he was silent, Ilouka prompted him,

  “And, when you have finished singing, what happens then?”

  “I announce you as someone very talented and very original and you’ll come on and sing a song.”

  “What song?”

  “That we’ll have to sort out at rehearsal, which incidentally we should have as soon as we arrive.”

  D’Arcy Archer paused before he enquired,

  “You told me that you know Bring My Broom that Madame Vestris sings so brilliantly, but I’m not certain it’s really suitable for you. Tell me what other popular songs you know.”

  “I was thinking about that last night,” Ilouka replied. “I know The Mountain Maid, The Month of Maying and a ballad from The Beggar’s Opera.”

  “Then we have a good choice,” D’Arcy Archer said with a smile, “and we’ll choose one that’ll show you to your very best advantage.”

  “Thank you.”

  “After that you will dance,” he went on. “Now what sort of music do you want for that? Without even having seen you perform, Miss Compton, I’m sure that you’re a very light and graceful dancer.”

  “I would hope so, but you are well aware that I am not in the least professional.”

  “That is immaterial.”

  “Then if I do have a choice and you happen to know any,” Ilouka said, “I would like to dance to gypsy music. I have Hungarian blood in my veins and the mere sound of one of their melodies, which should really, of course, be played on the violin, makes me want to dance and my feet feel as if they have wings.”

  She sensed that Mr. Archer was pleased by what she had just said.

  As they drove on, he hummed various pieces that seemed melodious and which she was sure would inspire her to dance in the way she had danced for her father, which had always pleased him.

  On the way they stopped for a glass of cider at a Posting inn where they also changed horses.

  Then they set off again at a good pace.

  “At this rate we should arrive at four o’clock this afternoon,” he said. “I’d hope, Miss Compton, you’ll not be too tired for us to run over your song and also choose the music you desire for your dance?”

  “I am not tired, although I did stay awake rather a long time last night, thinking of poor Hannah.”

  “Try to forget it,” D’Arcy Archer advised. “It was a terrible experience, which I’m sure could only happen once in a lifetime and will never occur again.”

  “I hope not,” Ilouka replied.

  She was feeling rather guilty, not so much about Hannah but because she was going with a stranger to stay in a private house that she had not been invited to personally.

  However she considered that the alternative of rumbling along in a stagecoach alone to Aunt Agatha’s house in Bedfordshire was a far worse proposition.

  ‘At least when I do get there,’ she told herself, ‘I shall have something to think about and remember, which will make the misery of that dismal house seem not quite so oppressive.’

  Equally she was well aware that she was behaving in a most reprehensible manner and that it would give Mrs. Adolphus a heart attack if she ever learnt about it.

  ‘Only Papa would understand that I have no wish to turn my back on an adventure,’ Ilouka told herself.

  However she was well aware that she was just making excuses for something she wished to do.

  When she glanced at Mr. Archer, she saw that he was indeed a very old man and, if he was not smiling and making himself agreeable, his face in repose looked almost like a mask. The lines at the sides of his eyes and from his nose to his mouth were so prominent that she could understand why he found it so difficult now to obtain a part on the stage.

  ‘At least with the money he will earn from this he will be comfortable for a short while,’ she told her conscience.

  She thought that, if she had refused him, it would be something she would undoubtedly reproach herself about for the rest of her life.

  Then, when somewhat earlier than D’Arcy Archer had expected, the Post-chaise turned in through a huge stone gateway surmounted by a coronet, Ilouka felt excited.

  There was a long avenue of ancient oaks and at the end of it a magnificent house, which she recognised as early Georgian, with a lofty central block and the two wings stretching out from it, making the whole a picture that was architecturally superb and of great beauty.

  She was aware that Mr. Archer was impressed, but neither of them spoke a word as the Post-chaise crossed a bridge at the narrow end of a large lake that black and white swans moved serenely over its silver water.

  They drew up outside a long flight of stone steps which led to an impressive front door.

  As they did so, two footmen in green and yellow livery, which Ilouka recognised as the Earl’s racing colours, came hurrying down the steps to help them from the Post-chaise and lift down the luggage from the back of it.

  D’Arcy Archer paid their driver and then walked up the steps in a way that told Ilouka he was acting the role of a lofty and authoritative Gentleman of Fashion.

  The butler greeted them, but not exactly with the kind of respect, Ilouka thought, that he would have done if she was arriving as herself.

  “I think, sir,” he said to D’Arcy Archer, “you are the entertainers his Lordship told me to expect. Your bedrooms are ready for you and, on his Lordship’s instructions there’s a sitting room adjoining them where there’s a piano, which his Lordship felt you might require.”

  “That is extremely considerate,” D’Arcy Archer replied. “And is his Lordship at home at the moment?”

  “No, sir,” the butler replied. “His Lordship and his guests are at the races.”

  They were shown upstairs by a footman and taken along a corridor at the end of which was a suite consisting of two bedrooms with a sitting room between them where there was an upright piano.

  Because it looked slightly out of place, Ilouka was sure it had been added as a concession to their profession. She thought, as Mr. Archer had said, that it was considerate of the Earl to think that it might be needed.

  Then she remembered what Mr. Archer had told her about his being attached to a very talented actress who was appearing at Drury Lane and thought that he must have learnt from her what entertainers required.

  Their luggage was brought upstairs and two housemaids appeared to unpack for Ilouka.

  Because she had brought a great number of things with her for her stay in Bedfordshire, thinking perhaps it would mitigate her depression if she had the satisfaction of knowing she looked nice, she instructed them to unpack only the things that she would need for the night.

  Then she was puzzled for the moment by seeing that there were not only her own two trunks in the room but also another very shabby one that she did not recognise.

  She was about to ask for it to be removed to Mr. Archer’s room when she realised that it must have belonged to Lucille Ganymede.

  Then she suddenly thought that if the actress had understudied Madame Vestris and sung the songs that she had made so famous, she would undoubtedly dress in men’s clothing.

  It flashed through Ilouka’s mind that Mr. Archer might expect her to do the same thing.

  Then she told herself that she was being needlessly apprehensive.

  However, Lucille Ganymede’s trunk in her room made her feel uneasy, first because it belonged to a woman who was dead and then secondly because it contained clothes that she considered immodest and indecent.

  She pointed it out to one of the housemaids, saying,

  “This trunk contains pro
ps that, as it happens, I shall not need for our act this evening. Will you remove it from here and put it either in the sitting room or somewhere outside until we leave?”

  “Very good, miss,” the housemaid replied.

  As they unpacked, Ilouka realised that they were looking at her with curious eyes, almost as if she was an unknown species of female.

  It amused her and, when she had changed her travelling gown for one of the simple but expensive dresses that her mother had bought for her in London, she went into the sitting room to find Mr. Archer already seated at the piano.

  He went on playing and said without turning around,

  “Is this the sort of music you like?”

  He ran his fingers over the keybs and began to play a melody that immediately conjured up pictures in Ilouka’s mind of the gypsy musicians with their colourful clothes and painted caravans.

  She listened with delight until D’Arcy Archer turned his head to say,

  “I’m waiting to hear your verdict, Miss Compton.”

  “It is perfect! But if you will forgive me, I do not wish to practise my dance. I prefer to react spontaneously to the music when I hear it.”

  “There speaks the true professional!” he exclaimed. “But if I’m to accompany you for your songs, I think we should practise them.”

  “Yes, of course,” Ilouka agreed.

  However they were interrupted when two footmen brought in a tray of delicious paper-thin sandwiches and a large selection of cakes, which made Ilouka, after her simple luncheon, feel quite greedy.

  She noticed that Mr. Archer ate hungrily, as if he was fearful that the food would disappear before he had time to enjoy it.

  Later, thinking it over, she was certain that he had at times been near to starvation and was concerned that it would happen to him again.

  ‘If I have a chance,’ she thought, ‘I will ask the Earl to recommend him to his friends. If that happens, at least for a time he will not starve and will not be so afraid for the future.’

  After tea they tried out two or three songs and then D’Arcy Archer said he preferred her singing of The Mountain Maid and then insisted that she go to have a rest.

  “I want you to be very good tonight,” he said, “and look like Persephone herself coming down into the darkness of Hades.”