Rockstar Retreat

by Summer Cooper

  Carla was startled from her miserable trip down memory lane when a knock came at the door. Lulled by the music, the hand she used to soothe her baby, and her reverie, the sound startled Carla and she jumped to her feet, looking at the door in surprise. Telling herself she was silly she walked to the door to find her husband’s valet at the door.

  “Yes, Wilson, what can I do for you?”

  “Madam, your husband has taken ill and I believe we should call a doctor for him. He’s most pained.” Wilson spoke with a bland, disinterested tone that belied the seriousness of the matter. If her husband was calling for a doctor, he was truly ill.

  “Oh? Well, yes, call for the doctor at once, Wilson. I’ll go to him now to see if I can comfort him in some way.” Carla may not care overmuch for her husband, but she respected his position as her husband. His well-being was in her interest and that of her child’s; her existence depended on his, after all.

  “I’ll send someone at once, madam. Do you need anything else from me in the meantime?” Wilson asked.

  “No, that is all.” Carla gathered her skirts and walked down the hall to her husband’s room. The room reeked of old body odour, alcoholic sweat, and decay. The maids cleaned the room daily but somehow the smell persisted. Carla suspected it came from Henry himself and no amount of cleaning would get it out of the mattress, the walls, or the furniture. It was just there, a permanent reminder of Henry’s presence after all of these years.

  Carla saw Henry on his hands and knees in his bed, bed-gown hiked up around his hips and a large red stain marring the pristine whiteness of the bed sheet beneath him. Henry was bleeding from somewhere but he refused to tell Carla where the blood came from. The doctor soon arrived, a short, bald, man filled with self-importance that quickly ushered Carla out of the room, telling her a woman in her delicate condition should not be in the sickroom.

  Carla paced within her own bed chamber, wondering what exactly was happening. She heard a cry from the hall and quickly left the room to see her mother-in-law, Beatrice Debenham, on the floor sobbing as the doctor tried to get her up and regain her dignity. The little man seemed to have no idea how to speak to women and Carla marched over, hoping to comfort the woman who had coldly rejected her from the moment Carla met her. She did not care for Beatrice either, but felt it her duty to care for the woman the best she could.

  Carla looked to the doctor for more information and the man seemed to shrink within himself under Carla’s stare.

  “Well?” She finally asked.

  “I’m afraid there was nothing I could do, Mrs. Debenham. Mr. Debenham should have called me much sooner, I may have been able to stop the bleeding but I was called much too late. He put it off far too long and the blood loss could not be stopped. I’m afraid your husband has expired, Mrs. Debenham.” The doctor quietly walked back into her husband’s bed chamber and shut the door.

  Carla felt like joining Beatrice on the floor, her shock great and unexpected. She had no emotional attachment to Henry, she’d had no tender feelings towards him, but he had provided a home and comforts for her, about all a woman in her position could hope for. Carla herself did not believe in marital love, though she knew familial love existed. She just had no idea how a woman who sold herself to a man for the sake of a home and respectability could come to love a man, especially when that man had subjected the life Henry had subjected Carla to. Her shock was due to her new state; widowhood, and worry for her future and her child’s. Henry’s family could expel her from the home, cut off her support if he had not provided for her. She clutched her hand to her stomach, hoping that she could protect her child, somehow.

  Reaching down, Carla tried to comfort the sobbing woman with a handkerchief crammed into her mouth; an attempt to hide her sobs Carla suspected, and she tried to lift her. Her attempts at comfort were rebuffed and met with venom.

  “Don’t touch me, wretch! You have brought a curse upon this family, my poor Henry has died! In the prime of his life and now he’s dead. You caused this, I know you did! I heard your screams when Henry visited you at night but knew he was doing his duty. You couldn’t even submit and do it quietly. For now we will support you, at least until your child is born. Then you’ll have to go. I don’t know how you did this but you’ve caused my son to lose his life and I’ll see you on the street for it!” Beatrice was shouting by the time she finished and Carla had backed down the hall as her voice rose. Seeing she was at her door, she hurried through it, her horror at Beatrice’s words growing.

  Carla knew she’d done nothing wrong, but now she had the added worry of being thrown out once her child was born, and knew Beatrice would take the child from her, as well. Carla locked her door and ran to her bed, afraid to take her eyes from the door in case Beatrice tried to come through it and spread more of her vile hate.

  Carla paced the floor, wondering what her husband’s solicitor was going to tell her today. The man was currently ensconced in her husband’s office, going over a last minute reading of Henry’s will; two weeks after he’d been laid to rest. The family was quickly called in soon after and Carla’s fate was revealed.

  “Mrs. Debenham, your husband has not renewed his will since he was 35 years old, meaning you are not mentioned in it. According to the law, you are entitled to one-third of his estate as your dower but that is all. I understand from the elder Mrs. Debenham, who has been left the entirety of the estate, that you are with child and she plans to hold the estate until your child reaches their majority, at which time she will transfer ownership to said child. The papers will be drawn up shortly. For now, the family will allow you to remain in the home until such a time as you are relieved of your current state. Then you will be required to leave this home for the country estate of Mr. Debenham, where you will remain unless you should remarry. Those are the wishes of Mrs. Debenham.”

  Carla looked over at Beatrice and knew she’d been beaten, again. Only this time the abuse was not physical. She had to endure the woman’s presence because of Henry’s thoughtlessness, and would then be banished. Still, it was better than being put out on the street, she supposed. She stood to leave, excusing herself quietly, when Samuel called to her, asking for a moment of her time.

  Looking at him expectantly, she followed him into the hall, not sure what to expect from the man. She watched the back of his head as she walked, noting once again that Samuel was handsome; tall, with silky straight dark-brown hair, with the same grey coloured eyes as Henry, and a strong chin that frequently displayed his stubborn streak. Carla wondered what he could want with her and was surprised when Samuel turned to her quickly and spoke to her quietly, but urgently.

  “Carla, I know your babe is mine. Henry had mumps as a child and would have been made sterile. I told him that before he married you but he would not listen. He’s never listened to me but what can one do? This travesty of a marriage went on long enough and now you are free of it. I want you to marry me so that we can raise our child together, as a couple. I want to take you away from the misery of the last few years and make you smile again. I can remember the first time I saw you and the smile you wore. That smile soon disappeared and I have longed to return it to your sweet face, which I love so dearly. Please, say you’ll be mine!” Samuel spoke with a passion he must have hidden for a long time because Carla had not suspected how deeply his feelings ran.

  Carla’s emotions had run from shock, to fear, to anger, to loneliness and were now back at shock again. To think Samuel had loved her all of this time and she’d not known! To think her plight was so apparent was embarrassing, and Carla longed to get away from the man. She also knew that as fraught as her current situation was, she was at last free of a husband. She had no man to direct her, to abuse her, and she wanted to revel in that freedom for however long she was allowed it. Propriety also dictated she could not marry so quickly. Society would be shocked if that were to occur.

  “I can’t marry you now, Samuel! We’d be ostracized from society and I’ve only just
lost my husband. Give me some time to think it over, please?” She implored, attempting to stall an answer.

  “I will give you time dear lady. I will give you all I can, but I do not want to wait long. I want to be there to cradle my child when it is born, after all.” Samuel said with a smile.

  Carla looked around, in case anyone had heard the tale, and stepped closer to Samuel. “No one must ever know this child is yours Samuel, no one, do you understand me? You would ruin my future and the future of this child. You must stop speaking of it, I implore you!”

  Carla spoke quietly, but with a passion Samuel had never seen from her before. He agreed and quietly let her leave him to go to her room. Carla kept her back as straight as possible as she walked, hoping no one had heard the exchange who could repeat it. She’d be ruined if anyone found out.

  A week later, Carla stared at her mother-in-law in absolute horror as the woman tore Carla’s clothes to shreds and shrieked at Carla that she was little more than a whore. The woman was so enraged she was shrieking words Carla had never heard before, but from the way Beatrice was using them, the words must be horrible. Finally, the woman collapsed on a divan and started to speak more quietly to Carla.

  “Elizabeth Rogers has been to visit me. She’s told me of your trysts with Samuel under Henry’s nose, in his very home! She’s witnessed you leaving the man’s room in the middle of the night when she stayed as a houseguest, and she has letters you wrote her, detailing your affair with the man. I did not realize the two of you were that close but apparently you were. Here’s a note from your closest friend, apparently with more morals than you, to let Henry’s family know of your deceit.” Beatrice flung the note at Carla, who caught it without thinking, clenching the sealed letter in her hand without realizing it. “You scheming bitch, I always knew you were bad news. You will leave this house at once and take your ill-gotten child with you. That child is no part of this family and will have no part of Henry’s fortune. You will be cut off and I do not care if you’re dead in the street this time next week, now get out!” Beatrice flew at Carla then, aiming a blow at Carla’s head.

  Carla ducked the woman’s fists and ran out the door, flinging herself down the stairs and out into the street without her coat, hat, or gloves. It was winter and the air was frigid. Her fright and shock combined to leave her staring at the front door with her mouth hanging open in confusion at what exactly had just happened. Slowly, the feeling of cold crept into her consciousness and Carla brought her arms up to her chest. The paper hit her in the face as she pulled her hands up and Carla looked down at it.

  She ripped the letter open, hoping to gain some knowledge of recent events, and her shock grew. The woman the letter was from had been Samuel’s lover, it said, until just before Carla had become pregnant. Then his attentions had stopped. Elizabeth had gleaned from Samuel’s words and his glances at her that he was in love with Carla and Elizabeth had come to suspect that Carla’s child was his. To regain Samuel’s attentions, and to get Carla out of the way, Elizabeth had revealed certain information to Beatrice.

  Carla clutched the letter once again, knowing that whatever she’d told Beatrice must have been half-truths because she’d only ever visited Samuel once and no other guests had been present; though she and Henry had held house parties before with overnight visitors. Carla looked around her, knowing she could not go back inside the house, but not sure where else to go. She’d made no friends she could count on and most doors would be closed to her once word of this got out. Even within her own family, doors would close in case Carla’s taint would somehow bleed over to them.

  She cast about, trying to think of somewhere to find refuge and began to walk aimlessly. After fifteen minutes she paused as she realized where her footsteps had led her. She was standing in front of Samuel’s townhouse. Glumly, Carla realized that, yes, Samuel may very well be her only refuge, the last place she should go to but the only place where she knew she would be welcomed. Her child would soon be born and she needed a home. Only one person had offered her that since her husband’s passing. Bracing herself, she walked up to the door and knocked, knowing her future had already been changed, but that it would now change even more drastically.

  2

  Carla sat despondently in the room now labelled as her bedchamber, staring out of the window at the snow-filled scene before her. She and Samuel had been married a little over a week now, and she could not bring herself to feel anything but sadness. Her child was due any day now and all she could think about was leaving, escaping the disaster she herself had created. As soon as the child was born and she’d healed, Carla was leaving and she was going to escape far, far away. She wasn’t sure how she was going to do that, but anything was better than being married again, and with a child whose future was precarious. The child would be better off left behind and raised as Samuel’s. Her presence would only burden the child with her ruin.

  Word had spread that Carla had been evicted from her home, but nobody was quite sure why. The rumours were actually worse than the truth but she could refute none of them. Samuel had quickly taken Carla in and had insisted they marry within days of her flight to his home. She had agreed, but only in the hopes that this would obligate him to her child. She also knew that if she would not marry him, she could not stay in his home. Carla had wed Samuel but they had yet to consummate the marriage. She pled the burden of being with child and Samuel, dear sweet Samuel, had not pressured her about it.

  Samuel really was sweet and seemed to truly love Carla. He bought her new clothes, provided her with all she needed, and was always around, hoping to make Carla comfortable. He made no demands of her and left her when she grew antsy; knowing his presence sometimes agitated her. Samuel was happy knowing that Carla was there and finally his bride. He thought he had a lifetime to help her fall in love with him, and knew he could break down the barriers that had surrounded the woman’s heart after all she had been through, if she would only give him a chance.

  Carla, however, could not allow herself to soften towards Samuel. She knew that she had been the one who had made a bad decision, that it was her own fault she was now trapped in another marriage, and knew this was what she deserved. She’d had an affair, she’d planned to pass off another man’s child as her husband’s and knew she had to pay the price. But she could not face that future. She felt like a slave, bought and sold, plotted for and captured, and could not work up enough enthusiasm now to pretend a lie she’d lived for so long already; even with a new husband. She resented Samuel, resented herself most of all, and resented a system that only allowed women to be treated as chattel.

  She stayed in her room most nights, refusing the few party invitations that came, because of her pregnancy, and listened to the gramophone and sound discs Samuel had bought her as a wedding present. The music soothed her mind and she daydreamed as the music played. She’d read books about faraway places that were always warm; Spain, Africa, India, and dreamed about life in those places.

  Carla’s health declined as the days passed and soon she would not even leave her bed, only staring out of her windows, longing for sunshine on her face as she listened to the many recordings Samuel brought her, trying to bring her out of her misery. Then the night came when Carla’s pains started. Samuel quickly sent for a midwife and waited for three days as Carla screamed through her labour. The child was caught somewhere between her slim hips and would not be moved.

  Samuel paced and went in to see Carla as often as the midwife would allow and towards the final day, he refused to leave, despite the protests of the midwife. His own wife was dying and if the child was not soon born, both would die. Samuel thought on the matter and quickly pushed the midwife out of the way. The woman obviously had no idea what she was doing and Samuel thought he might know a way to ease his wife of her burden, even if it harmed the child. He would not allow Carla to die. Other children would come, if that’s what she desired, but for now he had to help her.

  Moving between
Carla’s legs, he gripped the child’s legs as Carla’s body tensed once more, trying to expel the baby from her body. Samuel pulled down on the baby’s body, gently at first and then with more force. He could see it, tiny and lifeless-looking with her head still inside of her mother’s body. A girl, if Carla could deliver it. Samuel pulled again as another contraction started; Carla so exhausted she wasn’t even conscience anymore. Slowly, with each contraction and Samuel’s assistance, the child pulled free from Carla’s body and the midwife took over, cleaning the baby and Carla in turn. Samuel had time to see the baby’s squashed and discoloured face, and then he was forced out of the way.

  Samuel heard the child’s cries as her air passages were cleared and was relieved that the child lived. Now if only Carla would make some sound, stir in some way, he would be able to sleep at last. Samuel had not slept since Carla’s travails had begun and he was exhausted too but unwilling to sleep. Samuel turned to watch the midwife place the babe at her mother’s breast but was saddened to see that Carla still did not move.

  The next day, she was still not awake and Samuel sent for a doctor he’d heard about. The doctor had been able to cure women of childbed fever and Carla was obviously suffering from it now. He had the man sent for and soon the short-statured, balding man with a moustache and monocle shuffled into Carla’s chamber, looking the room over.

  “Yes, we must have light, clean water that has been boiled then coiled, and a solution made with this chlorinated lime for me to clean your wife with. Have you a washing bowl where I can wash my hands to examine her? So many doctors now scoff at the suggestion that doctors should wash their hands, but this is how the infection is spread; I have seen it many times. Your wife will soon be better, Mr. Colebrook, if we can stop the infection. I’ll soon have her walking around and cooing to that baby, just you wait and see.” Dr. Weiss was an encouraging man, though small, and seemed to exude confidence that made a patient and their family members relax.