The Mistress of Alderley by Robert Barnard Read Free Book Online Page A

ambition for something much greater was certainly there. If Marius had had a child by someone of his own background and class, he would have been expected to pay maintenance appropriate to his then financial position. Why should his meteoric rise in fortunes lead to a massive increase in the sum to be paid “Mrs.” Bagshaw for maintenance? Would that even be kind to the mother and boy, granted that a sudden access of funds, which they would be unused to handling, could have disastrous consequences? A sudden thought struck Caroline: Pete looked only a year or two older than Guy. Perhaps conceived at about the time of Marius’s marriage to Sheila. It was a disconcerting thought.
    A car drew up in the gathering darkness outside. Going to the window, Caroline thought she recognized the shape of the man seen from her bedroom window the Saturday before. She put down her sherry glass. Of course mothers should wait until their children decided to introduce their boy-or girlfriends, but…if she waited for Olivia to do that, she would never meet the long and varied list of men she was interested in or involved with.
    She went into the hall and opened the front door. Getting out of the car’s driver’s seat was a large young man with an Irish chin and a definite presence. There was no particular distinction to his face, but he seemed pleasant, thoughtful, and very taken with Olivia. Caroline liked men to be wholehearted, committed, but with Olivia that was likely to prove dis heartening. Poor chap, she thought, for the umpteenth time about one of her daughter’s boyfriends.
    â€œMrs. Fawley?” the young man said, swerving from Olivia’s door and coming over, hand outstretched. Caroline made a face.
    â€œCall me Caroline.”
    â€œI’m Colm Fitzgerald.”
    â€œI thought you might be. Everyone’s very excited about Forza, I hear. Are you coming to rehearse here?”
    â€œNo, I’m just bringing Olivia home. She wanted a bit of peace and quiet and luxury. We’ve finished rehearsing for the day, and we’re not needed again till late tomorrow.”
    â€œThanks for the lift, love,” said Olivia coolly, bending her head back and accepting, rather than reciprocating, a kiss. Caroline had been intending to ask the young man in, but Olivia said, “See you tomorrow,” and started toward the front door.
    Colm Fitzgerald, obediently but reluctantly, got back into his car. As she turned to wave, Olivia said, “You didn’t have to do that ‘Call me Caroline’ bit. I told you: he’s not a boyfriend.”
    â€œI see. Just a chauffeur,” said Caroline, with a touch of tartness. As she watched the young man drive off, she noted the drooping set of his shoulders, and wondered whether he had overheard Olivia’s words.
    â€œSo to what do we owe this honor?” she asked.
    â€œIt’s like Colm said: I just got fed to the back teeth with the rackety and bitchy world of opera. The rehearsal period is worst, of course. I just felt I had to get away from it all, them all, and be myself for a few hours in a peaceful atmosphere, with nobody shouting or emoting or calling attention to themselves.”
    â€œI see.”
    Being some kind of refuge was one degree better than being the laundress for a week’s wash, which she had been when Olivia was at music college, but Caroline was not altogether happy with the new role. It felt like conniving at the brutality with which her daughter treated her boyfriends.
    â€œWell, I thought he seemed a nice young man,” she said, “and I hope next time you will invite him in.”
    â€œHe just wants to be the baggage I carry round with me if I become a star,” said Olivia contemptuously. “He should get real.”
    Olivia spent the next day in vocal exercises, a long rest, and some swanning round the garden. Colm arrived to fetch her back promptly at three, and Olivia kissed her