Songbird

by Bell, Julia

  We slipped into bed and were back in Gibson Place again, only this time it was different. This time we were together because we wanted to be. His hands moved tenderly over my breasts to my thigh, his touch sensual, his kisses passionate. I gave myself to him utterly, belonging to him heart, mind and body, crying and laughing with happiness. And afterwards, I lay in his arms and he caressed my face and kissed away my tears. I don’t remember falling asleep.

  But when I awoke, I felt relaxed and soothed. Brett’s arms were still round me and he was watching me.

  “I fell asleep,” I laughed quietly.

  “I know you did. So did I. I’ve just woken up and I’ve been watching you sleeping.”

  I shuffled into a more comfortable position. “Oh dear, I hope I wasn’t making any unladylike noises.”

  He cupped my face in his hand and stroked my lips with his thumb. “No, you were smiling. I wondered what you were dreaming about.”

  “You,” I whispered and reached up for a kiss.

  His mouth was on mine again, gentle but demanding and nothing else mattered but the room, the bed and the man I was with. I was a lost woman and all I could think of was our desire, our love for each other. And after we had made love for the second time, I turned over and he snuggled into my back.

  “I feel so comfortable and warm,” I murmured.

  He lifted himself and moved my hair away to kiss my neck. “That’s good.”

  “And safe. I feel very safe. As though I’m in a soft nest,” I said sleepily.

  “I want to protect you. I want you to be mine, so I can take care of you,” he whispered.

  I drifted off to sleep again and when I awoke, he wasn’t there.

  And then I saw a light coming from another room leading off the bedroom. It was bright and I pulled myself up on the pillows. This new electric light was so much more brilliant than gaslight and I watched as if hypnotised by the glow that flooded across the floor.

  Brett appeared wearing only his trousers and with a towel round his neck. “Are you hungry?” he asked, smiling. I nodded. He sat on the edge of the mattress. “Why don’t you have a bath and I’ll order dinner for us.”

  I pointed to the room from where he had just come. “In there?”

  He grinned and pulled back the covers, revealing my nakedness. I blushed slightly, but then he took his dressing gown and wrapped it round me. Guiding me towards the door, he led me into a room that was fully tiled and had a huge iron bath against the wall, standing high on clawed feet. Nearby, were mahogany shelves holding bath salts, soap and fresh towels. There was a matching washstand with a basin and in the corner was a lavatory with a mahogany seat. I looked at him and his grin widened. I watched as he turned the large, brass bath tap and to my utter amazement, hot water came gushing out, steam rising from it, filling it rapidly.

  “But where does the hot water come from?” I asked incredulously.

  He pointed to the metal pipe running from the bath and up the wall, to disappear goodness knows where. “Through those pipes, from a boiler in the basement. And another pipe takes the waste away.” He kissed my neck. “I’ll leave you to bathe and when you’re finished, dinner should be here. What would you like?”

  “Oh, anything,” I said, fiddling with the tap until I managed to turn it off.

  I used the lavatory and then jumped in the bath, squealing as I lowered myself into the hot water. It was wonderful and I will always remember the first time that I bathed in an enormous metal tub with running water.

  Brett knocked on the door. “Dinner’s arrived if madam cares to join me.”

  I climbed out reluctantly and quickly dried myself. Wrapping the dressing gown round me, I walked barefoot through the bedroom and into the sitting room. A small table had been set with a plate of salmon and tureens of potato and vegetables.

  “I should get dressed,” I said anxiously, looking down at the silk dressing gown that was far too big for me.

  Brett held out his hand and drew me down on the couch. “No, this is a very informal meal. You look lovely just as you are.”

  He passed me a plate and I noticed he was wearing only his trousers and a loosely buttoned shirt still open at the neck. I bit my lip as desire surged through me again. I really must control myself, I thought with amusement and then felt amazed how potent love can be.

  Brett piled food onto the plate and I couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m only one person. How much do you think I can eat.”

  “Tuck in. You look in need of a good meal.”

  “Do I? I eat quite well.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want you fainting.” I narrowed my eyes at him for reminding me. “Have some wine.”

  He poured me a glass and I drank thirstily.

  “What time is it,” I asked casually.

  “Gone eight.”

  I let out a wail of distress. “Holy Moses! Nan and Diamond will think I’ve left home.”

  He threw back his head and his laughter filled the room. “It seems obnoxious little Abigail had an influence on you too.” He took a sip of his wine. “I hope we’ll be together like this many times?”

  I nodded slowly. I knew what he was asking. He wanted me to be his mistress. In the future, we would always have to meet like this, in the shadows, away from society’s prying eyes. But I wanted to be with him, even if it was for a brief afternoon every couple of weeks.

  The meal was delicious and I felt very hungry. Was it all the lovemaking that made me feel ravenous? Or was it that I felt so happy? Yes, I thought, watching Brett pour out more wine, I am happy. Happy and contented and it made me want to tell him everything. That I was Emmeline Barri, the famous opera singer from Covent Garden. Why I needed his twelve hundred pounds; to follow my dream, realise my ambition. And I had been successful. I felt my cheeks flush. Yes, I would tell him. How surprised he would be. We would laugh at how much he disliked opera and I would insist on sending him complimentary tickets for the opera of his choice. Angelique would be there too, but that wouldn’t trouble me.

  I placed my empty plate on the table and took in a shuddering breath. My lips parted expectantly.

  “Darling, I’ve decided to end my appalling marriage.”

  His words stunned me into paralysis. “What do you mean?” I whispered.

  He shook his head. “This incredible afternoon with you has proved to me that my marriage is empty. It’s an impossible situation and I intend asking Angelique for a separation.”

  “After fifteen years!”

  “The length of time doesn’t matter. I can’t carry on as I am.”

  I couldn’t hide my horror. “But you mustn’t ask your wife to leave her home.”

  He leaned towards me and lightly brushed my cheek with his fingers. “She’ll not care. She’ll go straight back to France and live with her parents. She’s never settled at Standford Park. It’s never been her home.”

  “What about Emily? Will she take her too?”

  “No. I know beyond any doubt that she’ll leave the child behind.” He moved closer to me and took my hand. “I want to be with you. He frowned when he saw my distressed face. “What is it, my darling? I thought you’d be happy.”

  I shook my head. “How can I be happy. You’re talking of ending your marriage.”

  He pulled me into his arms. “I love you and I’ll not live my life without you.”

  Shock made my meal turn on me and I felt sick. I remained quiet, a sudden decision entering my head. When I finally spoke it was clear and precise.

  “I can’t let you do that, Brett. It’s cruel and unfeeling to a wife who doesn’t deserve to be treated so abominably.”

  “I don’t love her,” he said angrily. “You can’t ask me to stay in a marriage that’s a sham.”

  I put my hands against his chest, trying to keep some distance between us. “I’m quite willing to be your mistress. I want us to meet when you come to London and spend afternoons together like the one we’ve just shared.”

 
; His expression softened. “This afternoon has been truly wonderful, but I can’t spend exquisite hours with you and then go back to a wife who is cold and unfeeling.”

  “Angelique is cold?”

  He nodded. “We’ve not slept in the same bed for over a year. She told me that her poor health prohibits her from a married life.”

  “Does the doctor agree?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve not discussed it with the doctor. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. If she says that’s the case then there’s nothing I can do about it. Not that I want to do anything about it.” He stared at me with eyes as black as coal. “I’m not interested in sharing a bed with my wife.”

  I stared at him, desperation pouring from me. “Please. Please, Brett, don’t do it. I want to stay as we are.”

  “But I don’t. I don’t want secret meetings with you. I don’t want you making excuses to your family when you slip away to see me.”

  “No, I beg you. It would be wrong.”

  He held my arms in a painful grip. “Don’t you understand. I didn’t just want a child with you. I wanted you.”

  “Brett, please. You’re hurting me!” I struggled with him and my cry of distress alarmed him. He released me. I rose slowly to my feet. “I would have been content for us to remain lovers,” I said, trying to control my breathing. “I didn’t want anyone hurt by our actions.”

  “Angelique won’t be hurt. She’ll accept it as inevitable.”

  He rose to his feet also and I turned on him angrily. “You don’t know that. She might be terribly distressed that you want to end your marriage. Think of the disgrace, the scandal. Her health is delicate and this could destroy her completely, even kill her.”

  “You’re being over dramatic. Anyway, I don’t care about the disgrace and scandal. Eventually I’ll get a divorce and then you’ll be Viscountess Shelbrook. I want you to wear my wedding band on your finger. I want you to be a proper mother to our child and live at Standford Park with us.” We stared at each other and then he said softly, “Isabelle, your son needs a father.”

  Instinctively, my fingers went to the ring I already wore. I caressed it gently, trying to stem the tears that insisted on brimming over. “I can’t be your wife. I’m sorry, my love is all I can give you.”

  I rushed for the bedroom and banged the door shut behind me. I pulled on my clothes and twisted my hair into a coil, my hands shaking as I pushed in the pins. When I finally went back into the sitting room he was standing by the fireplace staring down into the flames.

  “You’re going home?” he asked quietly.

  I nodded. “I must. It’s late.” I reached for my hat and coat.

  He straightened himself to his full height. “Don’t go, Isabelle. Please, I’m begging you. Don’t go, not like this.”

  I looked into eyes that were brilliant turquoise and yet full of anguish. “I should never have answered that damned advertisement. We should never have met. Our relationship was wrong and wasn’t meant to be.”

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  For an instant his words propelled me towards him. I reached up and gently traced the tips of my fingers down his face. “And I love you, but I’ve already done enough damage for one lifetime. I will not destroy your life, your wife’s…or our daughter’s.”

  “Then please let me take you home. We can talk on the way.”

  I opened the door. “I think it better if we don’t see each other again.”

  I left him standing motionless in the middle of the room. The look of shock on his face tore me apart. But I couldn’t help his pain, my pain was more than I could bear.

  I found it difficult to breathe as I took the cab home. I kept swallowing and biting my lip to force back bitter tears. When I arrived, I paid the driver and went into the house, trying to appear as normal as possible.

  “Thought you were going to stay out all night,” said Nan, laying her sewing to one side. “I saved you some dinner.”

  “I’ve already eaten. Where’s Diamond?”

  “Meeting Victor’s family.”

  “Oh, good. I’ll just pop upstairs and say goodnight to Danny.”

  “Just done that and he’s fast asleep.” She looked at me with disapproving eyes. “You’re going to have to sort yourself out, Issy.”

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “Either marry the man, or leave him be. You can’t keep company with him all these hours and then say you’ll not be his wife. It’s unfair on him.”

  I realised she was talking about Andrew Perry.

  “Oh, it was all business, I assure you.”

  She shrugged and then seemed to dismiss Mr Perry from her mind in an instant. “Well, this afternoon Diamond and I put our heads together and drew up a list. The move from this house will be very smooth. Do you think we should sell some of the furniture? The house in Ealing seems well furnished.”

  “Yes, we could do that.”

  “Danny is very excited. But kids love moving house, don’t they. It’s a new thing for them.”

  I gave a half-smile and went upstairs to see my son. He was fast asleep, his cheek resting on his hand. He looked so peaceful. I stroked his hair back from his face. Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t agreed to move into the house in Gibson Place and I let out a groan. I should have sold it and let the past go. Now I would be sleeping in a room filled with memories. But the decision was made and there was no possibility of backing out now.

  PART THREE

  THE LADY OF THE FLOWERS

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I stared at Andrew in disbelief.

  “I don’t quite understand. You want me to leave Covent Garden?”

  He gave a chuckle. “I’m talking of introducing you to the rest of the country in a comprehensive tour. You’ll perform in various major cities and towns. I hope to get bookings in theatres, town halls, civic halls, guildhalls. Anywhere possible.”

  “It will mean travelling around a great deal.”

  He made himself more comfortable in the chair. “Yes, it will get tiring, but it will make your name,” he said quietly. “I thought that we would cover the south and midlands first, only going as far north as Birmingham. And if that’s successful then we’ll start on the northern counties the following year.”

  “And what would be in the programme?” I was determined to ask as many questions as possible before I made a decision.

  “Anything you wish. Your favourite opera arias and folksongs from different countries. You can draw up your own programme.”

  I began to feel excited. “Even songs from the country of my birth? In Welsh?”

  “In any language that suits you,” he laughed.

  I looked towards the window where snowflakes were drifting past and settling on the ledge. We were in the dining room and spread out on the table, were sheaves of paper outlining Andrew’s ideas for my debut into the concert world.

  “May I sing Gilbert and Sullivan?”

  He let out a loud groan. “I thought you’d ask that.”

  “Well?”

  He gave a sigh. “If Mr Sullivan gives you permission then yes.” He frowned at me. “But under sufferance.” A few seconds of thoughtful silence followed. “So, what do you think?” he said, watching me.

  “I take it you’re going to be my manager?”

  “Absolutely. I plan to turn the responsibility of the theatre over to someone else.”

  “It will be during the summer months?”

  “March to September.”

  I rested my elbows on the table and turned the idea over in my mind. I would be on a stage, but not playing a role in an opera. I would be Miss Emmeline Barri, wearing an evening gown and choosing my own repertoire. But more than that I would be away from London, away from a house that had driven me insane since the spring. It had been a melancholy nine months.

  I caught my breath with excitement. “Can Martha come as my personal maid?”

  “Yes, of course.”

 
Suddenly, I thought of Danny. “Oh dear, what about my son? I can’t leave him for six months. Besides, he’s starting at The Hall in September.” I had finally succumbed to his insistence that he wanted to attend school and at ten years old, he would become a day pupil.

  “Why don’t you bring him with us? If his governess is willing to carry on his education while on tour, then all the better.”

  This pleased me and I smiled. “I will have to make plans about this house too. But Nan and Diamond can manage very well without me.”

  Andrew sat back in his chair. “And now the royalties for this tour. You will be top of the bill and I’ll be expecting you to earn the top wage. It all depends on my negotiations with the host theatre, of course, but I believe you’ll be earning in the region of fifty pounds per night. I won’t accept less.”

  I felt stunned. “As much as that?”

  “Yes. So, if you play for four nights in a major city, then I’ll expect you to receive at least two hundred pounds for your efforts.”

  “I didn’t realise it would be so much.”

  He pursed his lips. “Jenny Lind earned over eighty thousand pounds when she did a nine month tour in the States. And that was during the fifties.”

  “I’m not Jenny Lind,” I said, suddenly feeling afraid.

  “No, you’re much better, so I see no reason why you shouldn’t be more successful.”

  “You seem to have a great deal of faith in me.”

  He reached across and took my hand. “I could see your potential the moment I set eyes on you.”

  I gave him a half-smile and wondered if he meant as an opera singer or a future wife.

  Miss Rupp was ecstatic.

  “Oh, Mrs Asquith, how wonderful! I’ll do research on every place we visit and find out what famous people lived there and how and why the town came about. Your son will have an extensive education and it will round off everything I’ve taught him before he attends preparatory school.”

  I had an afterthought. “Would you also be willing to take him to Claythorpe House? I know it means more travelling, but he’ll want to visit Pegasus in the spring and summer and I’ll be too busy to take him now.” I had taken Danny to Claythorpe House the previous summer and spent a week on the estate, watching him learn to ride and on a very hot day, learn to swim, an activity my son had picked up very quickly, much to my relief. It had been a restful week but had not eased my heartache one bit.