Songbird

by Bell, Julia

  As we moved away from shore, the people on the quayside continued their waving and cries of ‘goodbye’ and I felt tears stinging my eyes. Were some of these passengers actually travelling to Australia?

  We slipped past the warehouses and left the port behind, the engine chugging noisily, the ship picking up speed, the vessel rolling gently from side to side. I hung onto Mrs Holland and we giggled like silly schoolgirls.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent settling into the routine of life aboard ship, although we didn’t stay on the deck very long. The wind became rather biting once we had moved away from the shelter of the harbour and so we went into the lounge and had some tea.Passengers and crew seemed to be everywhere and I wondered how many people were aboard this craft. I made a mental note to ask the captain at dinner that evening.

  Captain McAllen rose from his seat as we entered the dining room. He made us comfortable and poured us each a glass of wine. We had decided to tell everyone that we were friends travelling to France on holiday and the captain smiled and apologised for calling Mrs Holland my mother. He was charming and couldn’t do enough for us. After dinner we went into the lounge for our coffee, but before long I was yawning. Ever mindful of my health and wellbeing, Mrs Holland ushered me to our cabin and we prepared for bed. It was strange and yet wonderful to see her in her voluminous nightgown and curlers in her hair. Once asleep, she snored gently, but I soon became accustomed to it and fell asleep very quickly.

  We awoke to a grey, blustery day and went for our breakfast. Afterwards, I stepped out on deck for some fresh air while Mrs Holland stayed in the lounge to continue her knitting.

  I saw the captain coming towards me and smiled. “Good morning, Captain.”

  “Good morning, Miss Pritchard. Did you sleep well?”

  I nodded. “Yes, indeed. It must be the sea air.” I noticed the sails were raised. “We seem to be moving along quite rapidly.”

  He looked up at the sails, full and straining against the wind. “Yes, we’re going to make good time using sail and steam. I reckon we’ll be in Brest a good two hours earlier.”

  “So about three o’clock this afternoon, then?”

  “Our acquaintance has been short. But your company has been charming nonetheless.”

  I smiled at him, but my thoughts turned to what awaited me in France.

  I regarded our landing at Brest with interest and as Mrs Holland organised our luggage, I surveyed the busy port full of activity, with the French language filling the air. Mrs Holland pointed to the promenade that seemed to separate the commercial part of the port from the city and told me that in the mid-eighteenth century convicts had constructed it as part of their prison sentence.

  Among the hustle and bustle of the port workers, I spied young men in smart naval uniform and when Mrs Holland guided me to the cab that would take us to the railway station, I asked about them. Again, she was very informative and told me that the Port of Brest had been the base for the French Naval Academy for the last fifty years. It was obvious that Mrs Holland was very acquainted with this part of France and my suspicions began to grow about Karl’s lineage.

  “It’s about two hundred miles to Rennes, so we might as well settle back and enjoy the journey,” said Mrs Holland as we made ourselves comfortable in the railway carriage.

  I leaned my head back against the plush seating and snuggled under the blanket Mrs Holland had placed over my knees. I felt quite cosy and I wasn’t surprised when I dropped off to sleep.

  I awoke about half an hour later and found that Mrs Holland had also fallen asleep. I watched the scenery as it passed the window. The trees were bare, but the budding leaves would soon show themselves. In many ways, the baby was arriving at the right time of the year. I would be able to watch the countryside burst into its spring and summer colours. As if it could read my thought, the child within me moved and I adjusted my position to get more comfortable. Not once had I stroked my stomach as I had done with Danny. I had no interest whatsoever.

  The train journey to Rennes took almost four hours although it stopped en route and we were able to alight to take refreshment, but by the time we reached the railway station it was quite dark. I was relieved to see transport waiting for us outside the station.

  “Ah, good,” said Mrs Holland. “The coach has already arrived. We’re ahead of our timetable and I thought we would have to wait.”

  The luggage was loaded by the two grooms who accompanied the coach and it was obvious they came from a noble household. It was a lavish vehicle, pulled by four white horses and the two men and the driver were dressed in smart red livery. We were helped into the beautiful leather seats and one groom wrapped blankets round our knees, before jumping onto the tailboard at the back with his companion.

  The journey continued onwards, only this time for a mere six miles. The driver guided the coach over the brow of a hill and down below me was a vast lake. The moon was bright and the water twinkled like blue and silver diamonds. On the far side of the lake I could see a magnificent white building, surrounded by woods and gardens.

  Mrs Holland nodded. “Yes, indeed. Chateau St Julienne. You’ll be able to rest soon, my dear.”

  I watched her curiously. She had been here before. This was nothing new to her. Obviously, she had accompanied Karl here when he was a child. I wondered if he was related to the duc and duchesse. Yes, perhaps he had French blood, or a French name. I pondered on this idea as we drove through the impressive iron gates and up the drive.

  The drive leading to the front of the chateau was a good two miles long and as we swept through the extensive grounds and woodlands, my mouth dropped open at the beauty and serenity of the area, basked in the glow of the moon. It really was a lovely place to have a baby. Karl and his wife had thought of everything. I laughed happily and then cried out with pleasure when deer trotted across the path of the coach, quite unconcerned. We approached the main entrance and footmen were waiting to open the door for us and help us alight. Our luggage was unloaded and carried through the vast double doors. I followed Mrs Holland inside, my heart beating furiously. This was to be my home for the next four months. A maid took our coats and then showed us into the parlour and waiting for us were the Duc and Duchesse de St Julienne.

  They were a flamboyant couple and seemed delighted to meet Mrs Holland, greeting her like an old friend. And then I was introduced and I found myself being hugged and kissed in the demonstrative French manner. I felt shy and I knew my face was scarlet. My condition was not normally viewed as ‘acceptable’ by polite society and for the first time I felt ashamed to be pregnant. I wondered if they really liked me or were they friendly for Karl’s sake? Perhaps they looked on me with distaste and I shuddered at the thought.

  But their greeting seemed genuinely warm and I began to relax. Coffee was ordered and we were made to sit down and rest from our journey. As I sipped my drink, I watched the duc and duchesse as they talked animatedly with Mrs Holland. Brigitte Vacher, the Duchesse de St Julienne, was a fashionable woman, with a large rounded figure and ample bosom, very much like Mrs Holland. But Louis, her husband, was small in stature, his build slight and fragile, as though he suffered from very delicate health. It was obvious that his wife organised their lives with a firm and steady hand and I came to realise immediately that he always consulted his wife about everything. I didn’t join in with the conversation, but just listened, while I tried to pick up some of the language.

  “The young mademoiselle seems to have difficulty following our discussion,” said Louis kindly.

  I put down my cup and smiled sheepishly. “My mother taught me French but I’ve rarely used it. I can pick up about every third word.”

  The duc nodded. “Then we will speak in English with just a little of the French language, until you have had more experience.”

  After coffee we were shown to our rooms. As I walked through the sumptuous marble interior of this wonderful residence, it became apparent that their home was very much l
oved by the duc and duchesse. Mrs Holland told me later that the family had lived in the chateau for over three hundred years and thankfully the house and estate had escaped the ravages that had accompanied the Revolution at the end of the last century.

  My room was unbelievable. When I followed Mrs Holland into its grandeur, I barely kept back my cry of surprise. The room was not only well proportioned and decorated in superb style, but also, Mrs Holland informed me, had an excellent view of the lake. I ran to the long window that reached from floor to ceiling and looked out but it was too dark to see anything. And so, I turned to examine my surroundings. The furniture was beautiful and seemed to be centuries old. The silk wallpaper, the Persian rug and large four-poster bed were exquisite. The maid had lit three oil lamps and placed them round the room since as luxurious as the chateau was, it seemed that gas lighting had not reached it yet.

  “I want you to take a bath, my dear,” said Mrs Holland, drawing the curtains. “It will help you relax after the long journey.”

  I sighed. As happy as I felt, I was still obliged to follow orders.

  “Have the duc and duchesse any children?” I asked.

  Mrs Holland turned her head away. “Yes,” she said slowly. “They had a daughter late in life.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Oh, not here. She’s married and living elsewhere.” She didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

  “But they don’t mind me being here?”

  “Certainly not. They’re happy that you’re here.”

  “Why?”

  She looked at me with a stunned expression. “I don’t understand what you mean,” she said.

  “Why are they so amicable about my being here? What do they have to do with Karl and his wife?”

  Mrs Holland frowned. “You’re asking too many questions, my dear. You know I’m sworn to some secrets.”

  “I’m just curious,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  “Well, you know what curiosity did for the cat,” she said sternly. “Just be pleased that they are so agreeable with your circumstances. The fact that you’re carrying a child fills them with delight.”

  “Even though the circumstances are unusual?”

  “They know the situation and they rejoice that you’re going to make a lovely young couple very happy. Now, let’s sort out your bath.”

  She instructed two maids to fill a huge hip-bath that had been placed beside the blazing fire. I undressed and sank into the perfumed water with a gentle sigh. Not for one moment had I thought my agreed duties would be like this. I hadn’t reckoned on the control the main participants would have over me, the secrets that would be kept from me, the passions that would be aroused in me.

  “Have you seen your clothes, mademoiselle?” asked the young maid.

  I looked up from sponging myself and stared at her. “What clothes?”

  “In the cupboard. You have a full wardrobe of outfits. If you choose something after your bath, I will help you dress.” The duchesse had ordered a light supper in the dining room because of the lateness of our arrival.

  I finished my bath and reached for the towel. The maid helped me step out.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  She bobbed a curtsey. “Lisette, mademoiselle. I am to be your personal maid during your stay at the chateau.”

  Wrapping the towel round me, I walked across to the wardrobe and opened the large double doors. Inside was an extensive array of day and eveningwear. They were all loose fitting, beautifully designed and I had the feeling they would look quite becoming on me. I took out a rose pink gown.

  “I’ll wear this one,” I said and after a moment’s thought, added, “How did they know my size?”

  The maid curtsied again. “Madam Holland guessed your size, but any alterations will be done immediately.” She gestured to the dressing table. “If you care to sit, mademoiselle, I will brush your hair.”

  I did as I was told.

  At supper, I joined in with the conversation around me, while breathing in the wonderful fragrance of flowers that stood in the many vases round the dining room. I was picking up the language more easily and with a little help from time to time, I found I could actually follow the discussion. At least this little trip would polish up my French, I thought ruefully.

  “Do you like your new clothes?” asked Mrs Holland, as we climbed the stairs to bed.

  I looked down at my evening dress. “They’re beautiful, but I’ve not gone without a corset before.”

  She squeezed my hand. “Not healthy things when you’re expecting a baby. And my lady and gentleman insisted that you didn’t wear one.” She glanced at me. “You do look very fetching, my dear, and the duc remarked on what a beautiful young woman you are.”

  I smiled. “It was good of them to provide an entire wardrobe of clothes.”

  She gave a chuckle. “Silly girl. Your own clothes wouldn’t fit you once you removed your corset, so you would need new garments.” This seemed to amuse her and I could hear her laughing all the way along the corridor to her own room.

  I stretched out in the large four-poster bed and yawned. It had been a remarkable two days and I wouldn’t forget them in a hurry. I thought of my son. I hoped he didn’t miss me too much. We hadn’t been apart for a single night since his birth. I thought of Gwilym and then Nan. I must write to Nan immediately and tell her…I sat up as horror swept through me. Oh, you clever, clever girl, I told myself scornfully. You thought you had considered everything, but there’s something very important you didn’t think about. I lay back down against the pillows and stared at the flickering firelight dancing round the walls. I would have to formulate a plan and quickly.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was three days later when I finally found the courage to sit at the beautiful mahogany writing desk in the morning room. A weak sun filtered in through tall windows and glinted off the many ornaments and photographs that covered every bit of surface of the table and sideboard. Although cluttered, the room reflected the taste of the duc and duchesse and the fabric of the curtains and upholstery was lavish. A fire roared in the huge marble fireplace and on the walls were numerous portraits and paintings. Outside it was still cold and sometimes the wind whistled through the bare branches, causing the more fragile twigs to break off and tumble across the lawn. I turned my attention to the sheaf of paper I had taken from the compartment in the desk and ran my fingers over the beautifully embossed letterhead in silver. The name ‘Chateau St Julienne’ was there for all to see.I sighed and wondered what I should do.

  I hadn’t come up with a plan and in truth, my three days at the chateau had seemed to take away my ability to make decisions. I was catered for on every level, never needing to do anything for myself. Lisette woke me every morning and helped me bathe and dress. I breakfasted with the others and then went out for walks. At first I had been hesitant and asked Mrs Holland if I was permitted to go out. She had looked aghast at me and told me quite firmly that I wasn’t a prisoner and that I was free to explore the grounds as much as I wanted. And I had.

  Wrapped in a long cloak, the hood pulled over my head, I wandered through the gardens and explored the woodlands. I fed the deer and skimmed stones across the lake. I discovered the Greek temple and took refuge inside when a downpour caught me unawares. The duc and duchesse had told me that they had planned many events once the weather improved. Picnics were to be organised and boating on the lake and, to my utter surprise, they were organising a special dinner for my twenty-first birthday. I felt touched and yet bewildered that they should go to all this trouble for a relative stranger. But they had made me so welcome in their home, that even in the three days since my arrival, I had already started to feel like part of the family. The only problem I had was with the servants.

  As I walked along the pathways of the gardens and woodlands, I would meet the numerous gardeners who would stop their work and lift their caps in polite greeting. But after I had past, I would glance over my sho
ulder and see them talking together and nodding in my direction. My cheeks would flush at the very notion that they were gossiping about me. I once asked Mrs Holland about this and told her that I didn’t think the servants liked me, but she had clicked her tongue in annoyance and told me that it wasn’t the servants’ place to like me. And if anything was said then I must inform her and the offending member of staff would be dismissed instantly. I decided to keep quiet after that.

  Only dainty, little Lisette went about her duties without one look or word of recrimination or disapproval. I began to depend on her. I eventually discovered that she had an elder sister who had found herself in trouble. The duc and duchesse had helped her during her pregnancy and the baby had then been fostered out to good people. Lisette had been so grateful for the kindness shown to her sister that her loyalty and devotion to the duc and duchesse were boundless. And if they had asked her to look after me then she would do it well.

  I stared down at the sheaf of paper again and wondered what to do. I must write to Nan and tell her that I had arrived safely. But how was I to explain that I was staying at a chateau and not an academy for young ladies? To compound the problem I had also thought of another snag. Nan’s reply to me.

  Mrs Holland entered the room, interrupting my disordered thoughts. “Have you finished your letter yet, my dear?”

  “I haven’t started.”

  “Oh, I thought that we could take a trip out in the coach and post the mail on the way. It’s a little breezy but a change of scenery will do us both good.” She spread out the envelopes she was holding like a hand of cards. “See here. The duchesse writes as many letters as our good Queen Victoria I’m sure.”