from the warehouse next door. Christopher Havergal had brought them, and they were ushered by a rather shabby maid into a rather shabby front room with pot plants in the window and diplomas on the wall. A walnut piano in a corner. The quartet were invited to sit down. They did so, but when the door closed Isabella-Rose was on her feet again studying the diplomas. From upstairs came the sound of another piano striking only one note, a middle C. Then a female voice joined in. Starting quietly, it
grew to a crescendo and then faded away to a delicate pianissimo. The piano sounded the next note of the scale, and the exercise was repeated.
'Look, Mama,' said Bella. 'It says here--'
'Shush,' said Demelza, who had picked up the sound of footsteps.
A man came in. He was very short, not more than five feet, tubby, with a mass of grey curly hair cut to the shape of his head, clean-shaven, in a loose collar with an untied white cravat half hanging, a stained purple velvet jacket, striped trousers, small feet in patent shoes. Christopher introduced his guests, though Dr Emanuel Fredericks had met Bella before. He acknowledged this at the end of the introduction by saying, 'And my little Donna.' At which she dimpled. Christopher said: 'Of course you know the object of our visit, Dr Fredericks. Her mother and Mrs Enys have come to discuss with you her daughter's talents and future.'
Dr Fredericks nodded. 'Lady Poldark, I tested Miss Isabella-Rose's voice in a number of ways at her last visit, and I have to congratulate you on possessing a daughter of remarkable talent.'
'Thank you,' said Demelza, wishing almost for the first time that she had lost more of the Cornish accent from her voice. 'Mr Havergal has told me that you think highly of her. I am not sure what that means in - in terms of her future.'
'I am the most exclusive teacher in London. That without immodesty I can certainly claim,' Fredericks said. 'I assure you, my lady, I can pick and choose whom I have as a pupil. I restrict my numbers to ten. I teach only the essential mechanics of the voice. The words larynx or glottis, or other such technical terms, are used sparingly in this house. I seek a natural voice and to enhance musicality. I divide my instruction into three main areas: rhythm, diction and phrasings, and ornamentation. My tuition involves hard work and the utmost dedication. It will take in all about two years for the basic course.'
'And at the end of that time?' asked Caroline. He spread his small white hands with their spatulate finger ends.
'No one can tell. I believe this young lady to have the most natural talent of any of the last fifty pupils it has been my privilege to teach.'
Greatly daring her daughter's displeasure, Demelza said:
'Some people - a few people -- find her voice rather, well, hard.'
'Ah, yes, I can understand that,' Fredericks said. 'The vocal cords are magnificent and surprisingly mature. At times she may even seem to shout. But that is all latent tone, latent talent, an expression of the vigour of youth. That can be trained out of the voice so that the top registers are as sweet as the lower ones.'
'And she is - is what is called a mezzo-soprano?'
'That is so.'
Caroline looked at Demelza, as if aware that hers was not a major role but . . . 'Dr Fredericks, have we your assurance that Miss Poldark has an exceptional voice - or one of exceptional promise? Suppose she comes to you for two years, and at the end of that time she has fulfilled her promise, what then? What might her future be?'
Dr Fredericks again spread his hands.
'A pupil I had last year began with sponsored recitals; then recently she has been engaged as the principal soprano by the Bristol Oratorio Society. Another whom you may have heard of, Christine Smythe, has already sung in
opera and is now in Paris, singing there and receiving further tuition from the great Bernard de Vries. A third has been in Milan in a new opera called Norma. For a young lady with a
grew to a crescendo and then faded away to a delicate pianissimo. The piano sounded the next note of the scale, and the exercise was repeated.
'Look, Mama,' said Bella. 'It says here--'
'Shush,' said Demelza, who had picked up the sound of footsteps.
A man came in. He was very short, not more than five feet, tubby, with a mass of grey curly hair cut to the shape of his head, clean-shaven, in a loose collar with an untied white cravat half hanging, a stained purple velvet jacket, striped trousers, small feet in patent shoes. Christopher introduced his guests, though Dr Emanuel Fredericks had met Bella before. He acknowledged this at the end of the introduction by saying, 'And my little Donna.' At which she dimpled. Christopher said: 'Of course you know the object of our visit, Dr Fredericks. Her mother and Mrs Enys have come to discuss with you her daughter's talents and future.'
Dr Fredericks nodded. 'Lady Poldark, I tested Miss Isabella-Rose's voice in a number of ways at her last visit, and I have to congratulate you on possessing a daughter of remarkable talent.'
'Thank you,' said Demelza, wishing almost for the first time that she had lost more of the Cornish accent from her voice. 'Mr Havergal has told me that you think highly of her. I am not sure what that means in - in terms of her future.'
'I am the most exclusive teacher in London. That without immodesty I can certainly claim,' Fredericks said. 'I assure you, my lady, I can pick and choose whom I have as a pupil. I restrict my numbers to ten. I teach only the essential mechanics of the voice. The words larynx or glottis, or other such technical terms, are used sparingly in this house. I seek a natural voice and to enhance musicality. I divide my instruction into three main areas: rhythm, diction and phrasings, and ornamentation. My tuition involves hard work and the utmost dedication. It will take in all about two years for the basic course.'
'And at the end of that time?' asked Caroline. He spread his small white hands with their spatulate finger ends.
'No one can tell. I believe this young lady to have the most natural talent of any of the last fifty pupils it has been my privilege to teach.'
Greatly daring her daughter's displeasure, Demelza said:
'Some people - a few people -- find her voice rather, well, hard.'
'Ah, yes, I can understand that,' Fredericks said. 'The vocal cords are magnificent and surprisingly mature. At times she may even seem to shout. But that is all latent tone, latent talent, an expression of the vigour of youth. That can be trained out of the voice so that the top registers are as sweet as the lower ones.'
'And she is - is what is called a mezzo-soprano?'
'That is so.'
Caroline looked at Demelza, as if aware that hers was not a major role but . . . 'Dr Fredericks, have we your assurance that Miss Poldark has an exceptional voice - or one of exceptional promise? Suppose she comes to you for two years, and at the end of that time she has fulfilled her promise, what then? What might her future be?'
Dr Fredericks again spread his hands.
'A pupil I had last year began with sponsored recitals; then recently she has been engaged as the principal soprano by the Bristol Oratorio Society. Another whom you may have heard of, Christine Smythe, has already sung in
opera and is now in Paris, singing there and receiving further tuition from the great Bernard de Vries. A third has been in Milan in a new opera called Norma. For a young lady with a
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