Songbird

by Bell, Julia

  After the performance I breathed a sigh of relief that there was just one more before I would be free. Free? That word buzzed round my head like a bee. Was I a prisoner? Sometimes I felt like it. I thought I had a voice, but now I realised the voice had me. And wherever the voice wanted to go, I was forced to follow. But no more. After one more night, I would decide my future. Perhaps I would carry on singing. Perhaps I would make guest appearances only. Perhaps I might teach music for a living. That last notion made me chuckle.

  We arrived back at the hotel and while I changed for bed, I ordered a tray of tea. I was surprised when a knock on the door revealed Andrew carrying the tray.

  “Took this from the maid,” he said. “Thought we’d have a cup together.”

  “In my room? Are you sure that’s correct behaviour?”

  He shrugged indifferently. “I want to speak to you privately. And at least we’ll not be overheard here.” He placed the tray on a small table and then turned to look at me. “You be Mother.”

  I took a seat and started pouring. He sat opposite me.

  “I take it you want to talk about when we return to London?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be going back to Covent Garden to take up the reins there. Are you returning as my diva?”

  I felt uncomfortable at the thought and hesitated before saying, “No, Andrew. I’ll not be returning to Covent Garden. In fact, I’ve no idea what I’ll be doing. I might take a few months away from singing. I need a rest.”

  His grey blue eyes seemed to get darker. “I understand.”

  “Good.”

  “When we had that argument in…Truro, was it?”

  I nodded slowly. Places were becoming muddled for me too.

  He continued. “Yes, Truro. You admitted that you had had an affair with Lord Shelbrook and given him a child. His daughter, Emily?” Again I nodded wondering where this was leading. “I believed he paid your academy fees?”

  I looked down at my teacup. For some strange reason my mind returned to that terrible argument I had had with Gwilym when he had discovered my lies about winning a scholarship.

  “He did,” I said slowly.

  He stared at me for a few seconds before saying, “He must have had a lot of faith in you.”

  “You did, when you took me on at Covent Garden.”

  “True. But I had the experience of knowing you had potential.”

  “Perhaps he did also,” I said.

  He dipped into his pocket and brought out a piece of paper. “This is what I received when we were in Bath. The mysterious message that you thought was from a lady admirer of mine.”

  I stared at it blankly. “What’s it to do with me?”

  “But it’s not from a lady admirer as you can read for yourself.”

  He passed it to me and I read with mounting alarm.

  Dear Mr Perry,

  If you meet me, I might have information you would find interesting. It relates to your Miss Emmeline Barri and I think you should know what kind of woman she is. I will be in the park near the abbey at half eight this evening and we can come to some sort of agreement.

  A friend

  “An agreement,” I said my heart in my mouth. “This person was blackmailing you?”

  “Oh, she was.”

  “She?”

  “A young woman. Small with delicate features and dark hair.”

  I closed my eyes in horror knowing it had to be Jane. “So she gave you the information that I had borne a child to a member of the nobility and you paid her?”

  “I did. I had to in order to keep it out of the papers.”

  I stood and he came to his feet also. “Thank you, Andrew. You saved my reputation. Although you shouldn’t have paid her. She might have come back for more.”

  “She did. In Plymouth. Only this time I told her what she could do with her information.”

  I couldn’t help chuckling. “I’m pleased. People like that shouldn’t be tolerated.” He stepped forward and gripped my arms, his face close to mine. I suddenly felt terrified. “What are you doing? Andrew, let go of me!”

  “You misunderstand, dear Isabelle. I didn’t tell her that out of bravado. No, what she told me disgusted me. She said that you hadn’t been having an affair with Lord Shelbrook, but agreed to bear his child for an agreed sum of money. Is that true? Tell me.”

  My mouth dried up and it took me a while to answer. When I did, it was as if the words didn’t come from me. “I needed the money. You’ll never understand what I went through or how desperately I wanted to go to the academy. I had to do it.”

  His arms dropped to his side and then I saw that expression again, the same one I had seen in Gwilym’s face all those years ago. Andrew’s pupils dilated making his eyes seem darker, his face twisted in anger.

  He shook his head slowly and then he turned and left. I knew that not only had I lost his admiration and friendship, but also his respect.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I met Brett the following day and in my sorrow I hugged Emily, forcing back painful tears. And then I placed my hands in Brett’s and drowned in the comfort of having him near.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” His eyes showed alarm.

  “I’m tired and I’ve had some problems,” I said. Tears trickled down my cheeks.

  “Oh, my darling,” he whispered. He put his arm round me. “Let’s go and find a tearoom and take some refreshment. Then perhaps you can tell me all about it.”

  I shook my head. “No, I want to have a wonderful day together and not talk about my troubles. I’d love to find a tearoom and then let’s go on the beach.” A thought struck me. “Where’s Angelique?”

  “She decided not to come. But she asked that I invite you to Standford and…” he kissed my hand. “…you know that I’ve already invited you.”

  I was more than happy to comply. “Yes, Brett, I will come. What about tomorrow? We could leave tomorrow after my last performance. I’ll telegraph the folk at Gibson Place and tell them that I’m staying in Wiltshire for the time being.”

  “Stay for a month?”

  I smiled. “We’ll see.”

  “But don’t you want to go back to London first? What about your son?”

  “Danny doesn’t need me all the time. No, I’ll come and stay with you for a while, if I may.”

  Emily clapped her hands. “Oh, Mrs Asquith. I’d like that too.”

  That night I stepped onto the stage for the last performance of my tour and spied Brett and my daughter in a box to the left of me. I kept to the programme until the last ten minutes when I turned to the conductor and grinning, he led the orchestra in three songs very popular in the music hall, the audience joining in with gusto. The Boy I Love is up in the Gallery followed Champagne Charlie, and I finished with My Darling Clementine. I was thoroughly enjoying myself and ignored Andrew’s disgusted expression from the wings.

  And when I was done I threw flowers for the last time, aiming in particular for Brett and Emily. The management presented me with a bouquet of flowers and I left the stage.

  That night I had supper with Brett and we made plans for the following day. We would travel by the mid-morning train and I couldn’t wait to leave. My farewell to Martha was sad, but she would be leaving with Andrew to travel back to London and back to Covent Garden. It was over and although I saw nothing of Andrew, I didn’t care. I had too much on my mind.

  I met Brett and Emily in the foyer of the hotel and an enormous sense of relief surged through me as we travelled by cab to the railway station. We finally boarded the train. The whistle blew, the engine strained causing the coaches to clank together and we were on our way to Wiltshire. The journey was spent in a first-class compartment and I became acquainted with Nanny Dorval, a middle-aged woman who came from Lyon in France and who seemed devoted to Emily.

  At the station in Devizes we boarded Brett’s carriage and travelled across country to his estate. The village of Alton Priors was a pretty little place that see
med to be festooned with flowers, with a village green and a pond. And then we were trotting through the gates and down the long, wide drive. Standford Park was enormous and seemed much bigger than Claythorpe House. But I think that was because its design was a square ‘C’ shape and the coach drove into the courtyard that was surrounded on three sides by a four-storey building with endless rows of windows gleaming in the brightness of the afternoon sun.

  Brett helped Emily and me out on to the gravel that crunched beneath our feet and while the footmen hurried to unload our luggage, he guided us to the main entrance that was set in the middle section of this enormous structure. A short flight of steps led to the double doors. We passed through and in the hallway were greeted by two maids who curtsied. As I unpinned my hat, I looked about me. The building had impressed me so far and the large hall, beautifully oak panelled, impressed me even more.

  “I’ll have you taken to your room,” smiled Brett. “I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable. When you’re settled in, one of the maids will show you down to the drawing room.”

  I followed the maid through the wide hallway, up the stairs and down a short corridor. She stopped at a room halfway along.

  “Here you are, ma’am. It overlooks the gardens so you’ll have a nice view.” She smiled. “It’s one of the best rooms in the house.”

  She opened the door and I went inside. The room was lovely with a large window and beautiful furniture of polished walnut. There was a comfortable looking bed, a porcelain washstand and an exquisite dressing table. The fire was unlit since the weather was still very warm although it was now September and a charming fire-screen covered the hearth. I went to the window and spread before me were the flowerbeds, paths with arched trellises and to the right I spied a magnificent fountain. In the distance dogs barked.

  My trunk arrived and this time I left the unpacking to the maid while I quickly freshened up from the journey. And then I followed the maid downstairs.

  Brett was waiting for me and as the footman opened the door I gasped in astonishment. He was standing at the drinks’ cabinet with his back to me just like our first encounter at Gibson Place.

  He turned to face me and smiled. “I’ve ordered some tea for you.”

  “You’re obviously not taking tea.” I said, gesturing at the glass of brandy in his hand.

  “No, I thought I’d have something stronger.”

  There were only the three of us for luncheon and I was relieved when Brett suggested we keep it as informal as possible. Angelique was all smiles when she came down, dressed in a simple blue dress her dark hair fastened up with a comb.

  “Welcome to Standford Park, Mrs Asquith. I am so delighted you could visit.” I only murmured my reply, feeling slightly awkward.

  I spent the afternoon with Emily since Brett needed to speak to the estate manager and Angelique had retired to her room. My daughter took me all round the house, showing me her nursery and also the adjacent schoolroom where I met Miss Fellows, her governess, who reminded her sternly that lessons would begin the following morning. Grimacing at the thought, Emily took my hand and insisted on showing me the gardens, the orchard, the stables and the stud farm.

  That evening after dinner, Angelique said goodnight and Brett and I were left alone. I felt confused that she should feel at ease leaving us unchaperoned, but decided that her ill health was upermost in her mind. Besides, society didn’t expect married women or widows to need a chaperone. That was for young, unmarried girls.

  As soon as she had gone, Brett came to sit next to me on the couch and took my hand.

  “Thank you for inviting me to Standford Park,” I said.

  “You seem at home here and I’m so pleased you’re sleeping under my roof at last. It’s what I’ve always dreamt of.”

  I looked around his pleasant drawing room decorated in different shades of green. “I hope your wife feels comfortable about me being here.”

  “I’m sure she does.” He traced his finger along my cheek.

  I caught his hand and kissed it. “I wish you’d tell her about me. That I was the one who gave you Emily.”

  He looked away and I could see his jaw muscles tense. When he looked back his eyes were full of guilt. “No, I can’t. I don’t know how she’ll react and I don’t want to jeopardise your visit. Your being here means everything to me.”

  I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Then so be it. You promised me that you wouldn’t jeopardise your marriage either,” I reminded him.

  He smiled. “And I’ll keep that promise. I admire the way you always consider my wife’s feelings.”

  “She’s done me no harm.”

  I studied him for a moment before saying, “Do you remember that evening we had supper together at the hotel and Andrew…” I caught my breath, as the terrible argument with Andrew came back to me. I swallowed with difficulty and continued. “I told you that Andrew knew about Emily and he assumed that we’d had an affair?” Brett nodded. “I said that he had worked it out for himself, but he hadn’t.” I paused before adding, “A blackmailer told him everything.”

  He sat up straight and stared at me. “A blackmailer?”

  “Yes and I believe it was Jane. She told him first that I had had a child by you and while in Plymouth, she told him the full story that it was through a financial arrangement.”

  He blinked in horror. “Are you sure it was Jane?”

  I shook my head. “In truth, I don’t really know. But I have my suspicions that it was and she realised that she could earn a bob or two from Andrew if not the papers.” I couldn’t tell him about Andrew’s disgust with me; the pain was still too keen. I curled my fingers round the lapel of his dinner jacket and shivered.

  Brett pulled me closer and we remained silent. I knew he was thinking the problem over and later when I was preparing for bed, I heard the crunch of hooves on the gravel as horses galloped down the drive and I was certain that Brett had sent some of his men to find Jane.

  I make no excuses for that first night at Standford Park and the fact Brett came to my bed. I desired him as much as he desired me and when he pressed his lips on mine, I wrapped myself round him with utter joy. I needed to be loved and we made love with an urgency that made us breathless. And then I lay in his arms, our passion spent and feelings of peace washing over us.

  “I feel guilty,” I murmured. “I felt so wanton and carefree, but it isn’t right with your wife sleeping close by.”

  “Angelique sleeps in the west wing,” he smiled. “She has no inkling I’m with you.”

  It was wonderful feeling him close, to feel part of him.

  “You’ll never leave me, will you?” I said, caressing his bare chest.

  He curled a lock of my hair round his fingers. “No, my sweet Isabelle. I intend to be with you forever.”

  “And I pray that forever is a good many years.”

  He stayed quiet, but I saw his chest rise and fall more rapidly. He rolled onto his side and held my chin. “I know it’s asking a lot of you, to be my mistress, but it’s all I can offer you.”

  “It’s all I want,” I murmured. “You are all I want.”

  It was bliss to walk round the gardens and the day after I came to Standford Park I came upon the lake. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It seemed so like the one at Chateau St Julienne and when I saw an exact replica of the Greek temple, I knew beyond any doubt that Angelique had wanted to bring a little of her childhood home into her married life. I picked up a few stones and skimmed them across the water, feeling happy.

  I went in for luncheon. Brett was already seated when I entered the dining room and he rose from his chair as I took my place.

  “Have you had a good morning?”

  “Wonderful,” I said. “The gardens and lake are so beautiful. And I really loved the Greek temple.” I sent him a questioning glance.

  He cleared his throat. “It made my wife happy. At first she was very homesick and she struggled with her new life in England.�
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  I spread the napkin across my knee and thought about their marriage. He had told me that he didn’t love his wife, that it had been a mistake to marry her. And yet he had done everything in his power to make her happy, landscaping the grounds to resemble her childhood home and agreeing to father a child. He might not love her but he certainly cared for her wellbeing.

  “Where’s your wife?”

  “She’s taking her meal in her room along with her pills and tonics.

  “I’ll go up and see her after luncheon.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that? You’re very considerate.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  “She’s already in good hands as you are.” As if to reinforce this, he took my hands and held them between both of his.

  “But I mustn’t ignore her. She’s my hostess.”

  He kissed my fingers and I looked round to make sure no one had seen. But the footman attending us had left the room for a moment.

  Lady Shelbrook’s rooms were magnificent, situated in the west wing and filled with diaphanous curtains, thick rugs, beautiful upholstery and mahogany furnishings. She was propped up on the chaise lounge when I entered the room.

  “I’ve come to see if you need anything.”

  Angelique smiled. “Merci. But I’m well looked after.”

  I glanced at all the medicines on her bedside table. “You need all these?”

  “I do. Please sit. Your company will be most welcome.”

  I did as I was bid, pleased that she was so friendly. I hadn’t had the chance to get to know her at Claythorpe and for the next thirty minutes she asked about my tour and my success at Covent Garden. When the maid came to tell me that Emily had finished her lessons and was asking for me, I rose from my seat. But not before I noticed that Angelique was already looking pale. It made me bite my lip and before I said goodbye I peered at the medication she was taking. One bottle in particular caught my attention and I memorised its name.