by Bell, Julia
Mrs Holland was waiting for me in the hallway as usual and took my outdoor clothes and valise from me. I quickly patted my hair in place and looked down at my dress. I had chosen a burgundy gown that was cut in a simple style and gathered to one side with a bow.
“I’ll take your bag upstairs,” whispered Mrs Holland. “Mr Karl is waiting for you in the parlour.”
I opened the door and saw him standing by the window, his brandy glass held far too tightly, since his knuckles were white with the pressure. He looked very smart in a black morning jacket with a patterned silk waistcoat and white shirt. Only the older men wore cravats and Karl had adopted the more fashionable style of wearing a loosely tied bow tie. His trousers were grey striped and I wondered if he was a businessman from the city.
He smiled, put down his glass and came towards me, taking my hand as he had done two days before. “Miss Pritchard. You look as charming as ever.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“I’ve already poured you a sherry.” He offered me the glass standing on the drinks’ cabinet and I took a taste of the sweet liquid. “Mrs Holland says luncheon will be ready in ten minutes.”
I nodded. “I enjoyed our last luncheon together.”
He smiled and his lip trembled. “Yes. Yes, indeed. It was a delightful meal. We talked the time away.”
“What shall we talk about this afternoon?”
“Anything you wish.”
“It might be a little more awkward this time,” I said, trying to be practical.
“Let’s try and make it as comfortable as possible. No personal questions and no…”
“Mention of my singing?” I said, finishing the sentence for him.
“Exactly.”
A strained silence fell between us and I glanced around the room. “This house is so lovely. I wonder what Mrs Holland’s husband did for a living.”
“I’m sure she won’t mind me telling you. He was a Member of Parliament.”
“Was he really?”
He nodded and we started to relax with each other. “He was a Liberal. Served under Gladstone.”
“Unfortunately, I think they’ll be back.”
“Who?”
“The Liberals and Mr Gladstone will be our prime minister again.”
He threw back his head and gave an unbridled laugh. “You think the Conservatives are going to be ousted?”
“Yes, and that’s a shame. I believe the Marquess of Salisbury is doing an excellent job and if I had the vote, I certainly wouldn’t vote for Gladstone. Not after his dithering caused the slaughter of Gordon and his men at Khartoum.” I couldn’t hide my disgust.
“I agree, Miss Pritchard. Although I tend to support the Marquess of Salisbury as he’s a good…” He stopped abruptly.
“Is a good friend of yours?” I ventured with a wry smile. He chuckled and I added softly, “I thought you were going to call me Isabelle.”
He stared into the glass of brandy. “Yes, I must call you Isabelle. It’s such a pretty name.”
Mrs Holland called us for luncheon and I took his arm and we went into the dining room. It was obvious that the meal was going to be wasted on me as I had very little appetite. I pushed the food round my plate and when I did try and take a mouthful, it stuck in my throat. Karl made valiant attempts to keep the conversation going, but I noticed he filled his wineglass four times. Often I would catch him studying me and his eyes appeared darker, as though he was wrestling with his conscience. I glanced at the clock feeling uneasy, knowing I was delaying matters. Should I give my apologies and leave the house as quickly as possible? Surely he would understand if I suddenly had second thoughts.
The clock chimed the half-hour and I took in a deep breath, deciding there was no point in waiting any longer. Besides, the sooner I went upstairs the sooner this would all be over with.
“I think I’ll go upstairs now,” I said, throwing my napkin on the table and trying to sound casual.
He smiled nervously. “Of course. As you wish.” He stood as I rose from my chair.
“Will you give me…fifteen minutes?”
He nodded.
I left the room and climbed the stairs. Following the corridor, I made for the room at the end and opened the door. The curtains had been drawn and two gas lamps burnt brightly in their brackets, one on the wall next to the dressing table and one near the door. A fire blazed in the hearth and the bed had been turned down. My valise had been placed on a chair. I opened it and took out my toilet accessories and then nightwear. My boots clattered as I pulled them off and dropped them on the rug. I unfastened my dress and slipped it off, hanging it on a hanger in the wardrobe. Then I slipped out of my petticoats and other undergarments and lay them over the chair. I quickly pulled the nightdress over my head and wrapped my dressing gown round me. Then I sat down at the dressing table and stared at myself in the mirror. A pensive face stared back.
Why had Karl chosen me, I wondered. People had called me pretty, but I had never thought myself as attractive. And yet he had considered me suitable to bear his child. I wondered what the other candidates had been like. Perhaps there hadn’t been any other candidates! I was so lost in my thoughts that the time had passed and I jumped at the gentle knock on the door. I called ‘come in’ hardly recognising the sound of my own voice. The door opened and Karl stepped into the room.
He seemed surprised that I was sitting at the dressing table. “Am I too soon? Would you like a few more minutes?”
I shook my head and then I noticed the glass of brandy in his hand. “You’ll fall over if you drink any more of that,” I said, watching him take a seat in the large armchair by the fire.
“My wife says…” He stopped short and his eyes opened wide in horror. “Perhaps I have had too much.” He placed his glass on the small table by his chair.
I looked at my reflection once more. “I’m not sure what to do about my hair,” I said, more to myself than the man sitting in the armchair. I turned to look at him.
“You must do what you think best,” he murmured, watching me.
I quickly pulled out the pins and once released, my hair tumbled over my shoulders. I glanced at Karl and saw him pick up his brandy glass again, his hands shaking slightly. He was far more nervous than I had anticipated. I took the brush and dragged it through my brunette locks, trying to flatten the unruly curls.
I finished and lay the brush gently on the table. “Would you mind if I got into bed?” I asked, trying to keep my tone as calm as possible. Perhaps if I relaxed, it would help him to feel more comfortable.
He shook his head and stood, gulping back the last of his drink and then he turned his back as I slipped out of my dressing gown. I climbed into bed and pulled the quilt up to my chest, propping myself up on the pillows. I quickly looked down at my nightgown. It was short sleeved and made from fine linen, the bodice decorated with a small amount of Chantilly lace. It had been a birthday present from Nan and it was the prettiest one I had.
Karl stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds and then stepped over to the lamp by the dressing table and turned it off. He did the same with the one by the door. There was only the firelight now. I watched the flames, trying to avert my eyes from the man steadily undressing. He took off his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair and then he unbuttoned his waistcoat and slipped it off, laying it also over the chair.
“May I sit on the bed,” he asked politely. I felt surprised that he had asked and nodded. He sat down and unfastened his shoes, placing them tidily to one side and then he undid his tie. I wondered if he usually had a valet to help him dress, but then I couldn’t remember if a businessman had a valet or not. “We’re back to being awkward again, aren’t we?” he said huskily.
I smiled. “Well, we’re bound to feel awkward. I don’t think this kind of arrangement is made often.”
He started unbuttoning his shirt, keeping his back to me. “Do you think this is wrong?”
“Well, you’
re doing it for your wife.”
“And you? What are you doing it for?”
He pulled off his shirt and I noticed that his shoulders were broad and muscular. Perhaps he wasn’t a businessman. What could his profession be?
“That’s a secret,” I said.
His trousers and underwear came off in one swift movement and then he was naked. He pulled back the covers and slipped in beside me. He lay on his back studying the ceiling.
“You won’t tell me what you want the money for and you won’t sing for me.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “You have your secrets and I have mine.”
“Is Isabelle Pritchard your real name?”
I rolled over towards him. It was an intimate thing to do but I had acted instinctively. “Is Karl your real name!”
My easy manner seemed to give him courage and he turned to face me. “I think there’s more to you than meets the eye,” he said.
I smiled. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”
He brushed the hair from my forehead and I almost pulled away from him, startled. “You’re so lovely,” he whispered. His gaze swept over my face, my hair and then my nightgown. “I promise to be gentle, but may I kiss and touch you?”
“You’re already touching me,” I said, as he caressed my cheek.
“You know what I mean,” he laughed softly.
I nodded.
His lips kissed mine tenderly and I wasn’t prepared for how it would feel. The sensations that pulsated through me gave me a shock. And then his kisses spread to my neck and shoulders. I kept still. Had Mrs Holland told him the results of her examination on me? What did he know? I wondered if I should come right out and ask him. He moaned gently into my hair and I realised that it was too late to ask him anything. Suddenly, his mouth covered mine again and I felt his tongue force my lips apart. I panicked slightly, but then quickly controlled myself. It had gone too far to stop any of this now. His hand slipped to my breast and then down my body to my thigh. When he pulled my nightgown up and moved over me, I forced myself to relax. Everything was all right, I told myself, this was nothing new to me. Even so, I turned my head away, not wanting to see the look in his eyes.
He eased himself between my legs and entered me easily. Too easily. His mouth was against my ear and I heard him gasp, but whether it was from pleasure or surprise I had no idea. If he didn’t know anything before, he certainly knew something now.
He raised his head and looked down at me. “Are you all right? I’m not hurting you?”
“I’m comfortable,” I whispered.
I wished he would get on with it.
He started moving slowly at first and I could feel as well as hear his arduous breathing against my hair. I closed my eyes, as his thrusts became more urgent and then I realised that I was enjoying it. That surprised me. I didn’t love this man so how could I find intimacy pleasurable with him? He pulled himself up and arched his back. Suddenly, he gritted his teeth and gave out a muted cry. And then he was still. I could feel his heart beating furiously against my shoulder and I knew from my experience of married life, that he had been very restrained. He had simply done the necessary business, without losing control or allowing himself to forget what he was there for.
After a couple of minutes he slid sideways and then rolled onto his back. We lay quietly together.
I heard him blow out a long breath. “Please say when you want me to leave,” he said.
“You don’t have to go yet,” I said softly, shuffling onto my side to face him.
He turned his head to look at me and seemed surprised. “You want me to stay?”
“Just for a little while. If you want to, of course.”
He smiled and raised my hand to his lips. “Then I’ll stay until you go to sleep,” he said, kissing my fingers.
“I might not go to sleep,” I whispered.
He gave that wonderful chuckle that I was beginning to love and in the firelight he looked so handsome, his profile strong and firm.
“Mrs Holland says you have to sleep and Mrs Holland knows best.”
It was then that I knew that Mrs Holland had been a nanny and whose nanny she had been.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I awoke with a gentle tapping on the door. I turned over and gasped with surprise. I really had fallen asleep and in the middle of the day. My early mornings with Danny and rushing from lesson to lesson had obviously worn me out. I lifted my head and discovered I was alone.
“Come in,” I called and pulled myself up on the pillows.
Mrs Holland came in carrying a cup of tea. She placed it beside me on the table. “Time to get up, my dear,” she smiled. She went out and returned a few seconds later with a large pitcher. “There’s some water for you.” She crossed the floor and pulled back the lilac curtains. The sun streamed into the room making the wallpaper shimmer with a silky sheen. “It’s a lovely afternoon, but I think it’s threatening rain for later on.” She turned to me. “Now, you get yourself ready and come down to the parlour. I’ve made some scones and sandwiches. Oh, and my special chocolate gateau.”
I picked up the cup and saucer and sipped my tea. I couldn’t help smiling. Mrs Holland was behaving as though this was all perfectly normal; like a housekeeper diligently organising her mistress for the day. She left me with a swish of skirts. It seemed Karl had waited until I had fallen asleep before leaving me and I felt so grateful for that. Had he gone immediately, I would have felt like a whore, but instead, he had behaved impeccably and I wondered how long he had lain by my side watching me sleep.
Eventually, I climbed out of bed and lifted my dress from the wardrobe. My plain steel-framed fob watch hung from the bodice and I was surprised to see it was nearly four o’clock. I washed and dressed and then pinned up my hair. Pushing my possessions into the valise, I collected the cup and saucer and left the room.
At the bottom of the stairs, I met the maid. “Shall I take that, miss?” she said, reaching for the crockery in my hand. “You can leave your bag by the hat stand, if you wish.” I smiled and did as she said. “Mrs Holland is waiting for you in the parlour, miss.”
I opened the door and went into the pink and white room. Mrs Holland was sitting on the couch and on the occasional table a wonderful tea had been set out. A three-tier stand stood proudly in the centre of the table containing sandwiches and scones. On a plate by the side, was a lovely chocolate gateau.
She patted the seat next to her. “Come and sit down, my dear.”
I did so and then the maid came in carrying a steaming pot of tea. She placed it on the table and left.
“Does your maid know what’s happening?” I asked, biting my lip.
Mrs Holland gave a chuckle. “I rescued Jane from the clutches of a brothel madam when she was ten. She’s seen more than a young girl of her age should see. We’re devoted to each other, however, I thought it prudent to tell her only that Mr Karl is meeting a lady friend and I had agreed that their liaison should be here.”
“But she’ll think I’m his mistress.”
Mrs Holland nodded. “Perhaps. But her discretion can be guaranteed.” She poured out the tea and then offered me a side plate and napkin. “Please help yourself.”
“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” I asked, taking a sandwich and munching into the bread. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was, but I had only picked at my luncheon.
“Yes, my dear. This is how it’s going to be. It’ll be a steady routine for the next few weeks.”
I gave a sigh. “I hope Karl isn’t disappointed with me.”
Mrs Holland seemed bewildered. “Goodness me, why should he be disappointed with you?”
“What happens if I don’t fall pregnant?”
“Let’s wait and see about that. You’re healthy and that’s a good sign.”
I thought for a moment. “Does his wife want a boy or girl?”
She tossed her head and for a moment I caught a glimpse of the girl she once was.
“I don’t think even you have a choice in that. But to answer your question, my lady wants a healthy child no matter the sex.” She took a sandwich and nibbled it. “And, of course, she and…Mr Karl want you to be well and come through it with no complications.” She looked at me sternly. “Not that there will be any complications. The delivery of the child is in my hands and I will certainly look after you.”
“You’ll be my midwife?”
She nodded. “Mr Karl and his wife would have it no other way. They insisted.”
I was so pleased that Mrs Holland would attend me when the time came. The thought of having a stranger deliver the baby filled me with horror.
But my confidence in Mrs Holland didn’t prevent me from being nervous when I met Karl for the third time, although the routine remained just the same. I was amazed how gentle and tender he was, he could have been my husband and as he caressed me, I found his touch sensual as well as exciting. I lay under him and pressed my face against his shoulder, trying to stifle the moans of pleasure and afterwards, we lay in bed and talked. I ventured to ask his age again but he only laughed, chucked me under the chin and said at least one hundred years, so I decided not to question him further. I tried to fight sleep, since sleeping in the afternoon was against my nature and besides, I wanted to stay awake to enjoy his company. But he would encourage me to rest and soon I was sleeping peacefully and when Mrs Holland came into the room to stir me from my sleep, he was gone and I felt desolate.
Our next meeting was on a Sunday. Mrs Holland had checked with me to confirm that that day was convenient and I had told her it was. I went to church with Nan as usual and then told her that I had lessons that afternoon.