Songbird (28 page)

He
kissed my fingers once more and then bowing sharply, left the room.  I stared
at the closed door long after he had gone and then at the calling-card in my
hand.

The Rt. Hon. The
Viscount Shelbrook

Standford Park

Alton Priors

Wiltshire

There
was a time, seven years ago, when I would have given anything to have this
small white card in my possession.  But now I read it with my mind in a whirl. 
I left the drawing room and kept on walking, through the house, down the long
gallery and then back again.  I needed to exercise to put my thoughts into
perspective.  Did he sincerely love me?  Was I so important to him that he
would simply be a friend, not asking anything of me?  It seemed I still had
more questions than answers.

I spent the rest
of that day quietly with the other ladies, staying indoors since the rain
became torrential and it was impossible to walk outside.  I climbed the stairs
to the nursery when the children were having their tea and afterwards, while
Emily and Abigail were playing with the dolls house, I asked Danny what he and
Lord Shelbrook had been discussing.  He confirmed everything that Karl had
said.  That he had spoken of Miss Rupp and of Jasper the grass snake and how
excited he was at having a horse of his own.  In fact, it had been a pleasant
conversation lasting only ten minutes and after speaking to my son I had to
admit to myself that nothing untoward had been said, no secrets divulged, no
compromising questions asked.

But I
had to ask him some questions of my own and these made me feel very
uncomfortable.

“Danny
please tell me.  Do I…fuss over you too much?”

He
lowered his head as if shy.  “Do you mean when you stop me doing things?”

“What
things, dearest?”

He
puffed out a breath.  “Like when I go and play at Oscar’s and you take me to
his house and then come for me.”

I
felt a little taken aback.  “I don’t like you to be out on your own.”

“But
he lives at the end of the street.”  He gave a grin.  “I won’t get lost.”

I
thought this over.  “All right, when we get home, I’ll let you go to Oscar’s on
your own.”

“And
to the Co-op?”

“Why
do you want to go to the Co-op?”

“When
you need something, you always go and Miss Rupp has shown me how to buy things
and get the right change.”

I sighed. 
“Yes, if I need some groceries then you can go for me.”

His
face brightened.  “And school.  I want to go to school, Mama.”

I put
my arms round him and held him close.  “You will when you’re thirteen.  You
know I have your name down for Harrow.”

“But
Miss Rupp has said that there are prep…preparatory schools for boys much
younger.  I could go now.  I was asking Lord Shelbrook and he said he’s a
governor of The Hall in Camden.”  His eyebrows puckered.  “I’m not sure what a
governor is but it must be important if Emily’s papa is one.”

I
swallowed hard.  “Oh, you’re too young.  At thirteen you’ll be more
independent.”

“I’ll
only be away during the day.  I’ll spend every evening at home.”

I
looked into eager blue eyes and bit my lip. 

But in bed that
night, I lay there a long time, staring at the ceiling.  I had been terribly
overprotective of my son and I realised I must let him go.  I would worry about
him but I must overcome that.  I had been told many times that I was
mollycoddling him, but I had brushed off the comments as nonsense.  It was
strange that Karl’s words had hit home more than Nan and Diamond’s.  Or Miss
Rupp’s.

My
thoughts drifted back to Karl and the card he had given me.  I had placed it in
the leather-bound address book that had been my gift from Lord and Lady Waltham
on the night of the Christmas ball.  How handsome and sincere Karl had looked
when he had given me his card.  His eyes had told me that he meant every word. 
Slipping out of bed, I padded across to the dressing table and took the white
card from the address book.  I couldn’t read it in the firelight and so stood
quietly, staring into the flames and caressing it with my fingertips. 
Suddenly, I remembered the house in Gibson Place; I remembered our luncheons
together and the lively discussions.  Then I remembered the bedroom and the
overpowering feelings.  The tears and the despair.  And the passion.

Desire
flooded through me and I ran across the carpet, flinging myself down on the
bed.  I buried my face in the pillow gasping at my memories.

Eventually,
I turned over to stare at the flames leaping in the grate.  “Oh, Karl…” I
whispered and then pulled myself up abruptly.  “Not Karl…Brett.  I love you. 
But how can I tell you?”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT

I
sat
in the window seat, my thoughts jumbled and bewildered.  I had had a restless
night, tossing and turning with dreams that disturbed me.  My anger towards
Brett was far more preferable than this, I thought dismally.  Anger was more
manageable than these overwhelming feelings of desire that were now burning me
up.  He was right, I was a passionate woman, but I had concentrated all my time
and effort on my work, my singing.  The exhausting schedule at Covent Garden
had often drained me of energy and all I had wanted was to go home and sleep. 
But now my mind and body were in turmoil.  I dug my nails into the palm of my
hand and remembered that Brett was a married man.  His declarations of love the
previous day, no matter how sincere, had been wrong.  I refused to tell him
that I felt the same and had done so for seven years.  God knows what would
happen if he discovered the truth.

It
was raining again, the drops hitting the panes of glass with the force of the
wind.  But in the west I could see patches of blue sky and I wondered if the
poor weather would pass over and we would enjoy some of the day in bright
sunshine.  I hoped so, I desperately wanted to walk outside.

I
went down to breakfast.  Brett was in conversation with Lord Waltham and they
rose from their chairs as I entered the room.

I
murmured a cheery ‘good morning’ and helped myself to the food set out on the
sideboard.  I took my place at the table and the footman stepped forward to
fill my cup with coffee.

“You’re
looking much better, Mrs Asquith,” said Lord Waltham.  “You have more colour in
your cheeks.”

“Thank
you, my lord.  I do feel a lot better.”

Brett
gave me a tender smile.  “I think Mrs Asquith needs some fresh air.  Perhaps we
should take a trip into Basingstoke to the Christmas fair this afternoon.”

Lord
Waltham nodded enthusiastically.  “Yes, indeed.  My wife spoke about it and
said that if the rain ceases it would make a wonderful excursion for us all.”

“There’s
plenty to see,” said Brett, picking up the paper and reading it.  “Lots of
stalls, food and drink sold in various tents.  A fire-eater would you believe
and also a certain Madam Zakina who will tell you your fortune.  And rides for
the children.”

He
passed the paper to me and I took it, glancing quickly over the advertisement. 
The fair did look interesting and if we all went then it would be an
entertaining afternoon away from the house. 

I
nodded in agreement.  “If everyone is of the same mind, then I’m quite happy to
go along with the plan.”  I gulping down my coffee.  “Will your wife be going?”
I said, turning to Lord Shelbrook.

He
shook his head.  “Angelique would find it too strenuous.”

Although
I had tried to sound eager, I didn’t know if I could bear to be in Brett’s
company for too long.  I was so afraid that a look, a gesture would betray my feelings
for him.  I concentrated on eating my breakfast and the footman came to refill
my cup.  Since the paper was in front of me, I carried on reading it, as the
two lords resumed their conversation.  Then I saw something that made my heart
thud and an audible cry escaped my lips. 

They
turned to me.

“Is
everything all right?” said Lord Waltham, frowning.

“Oh,
just that…” I thought quickly.  “
The Marriage of Figaro
is playing at
Covent Garden.”

His
expression became animated.  “So I have heard!  Miss Emmeline Barri, the toast
of all London.  I have friends who have seen her and can’t speak too highly of
her.  They say her singing sets your senses aflame.”

“Do
you mean your ears hurt with the din and your eyes ache with trying to stay
awake,” Brett quipped.

“I
know you never attend the opera, but Penelope and I will definitely go next
time we visit the capital,” said Lord Waltham, smiling.

“Don’t
you like opera?” I asked Brett, fluttering my eyelashes.

“No,
I don’t.”  His lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile.

The
earl turned to him.  “You could be missing out on a wonderful experience. 
Those who first saw Miss Barri in
Carmen
thought she was beautiful and
with a figure that was very seductive.”

I
subdued my delight.  “Did they really?”

“They
did and her singing was described as heavenly. So,
The Marriage of Figaro
will
not disappoint us when we visit the capital in the spring.”

“Well
rather you than me,” said Brett, grimacing.

“I do
believe
The Marriage of Figaro
is playing only until February,” I
ventured.

The
earl frowned.  “Is it?  Oh dear.  We’ll have to see her in something else and
I’m sure it will be just as enjoyable.”

I
went back to my breakfast, sure in the knowledge that should Lord and Lady
Waltham attend Covent Garden they would never recognise me on stage in makeup,
wig and costume.

The rain was
easing off, but it was still too wet to venture outdoors.  I had no idea where
the children were.  I tried not to worry about Danny.  Every morning he and the
girls would set off on their adventures and since he was happy it was better to
leave it that way.  I found myself in the long gallery once more, only this
time I stood at one of the long, narrow windows, staring out at the garden.  My
attention became riveted on the silver raindrops streaming down the glass and I
began to trace my finger along the route of one that was slowly meandering
down, collecting others on the way, becoming fatter and then moving at a
brisker pace.  I smiled with my memories and finding a smaller one at the top,
I began to tap it gently with my forefinger.

“What
on earth are you doing?” asked Brett, laughing with amusement.

“Why
do you keep sneaking up on me?” I said, without turning to look at him.

“I’m
not sneaking up on you.  I saw you at the window and wondered what you were
doing.”

“Raindrop
racing.”  Seeing his confused expression I added, “You obviously didn’t play it
as a child?”

“Not
that I remember.”

“Gwilym
and I would, when it was raining and we had to stay indoors.”  I turned to the
handsome man standing by my side.  “You each find a raindrop and then you tap
it and try to make it run faster down the glass.  The one that gets to the
bottom first, is the winner.  Shall we play?”

“If
you wish.”

We
each found a raindrop and there followed five minutes of hilarity as we tapped
the glass, causing the droplets to run faster.  I won.

“I’ve
had more experience than you,” I said.  “But you must teach Emily.  It will
keep her amused for hours.”

“I
take it that Gwilym is your brother?”

I
nodded.  “Yes, he’s two years older.”

“And
what does he do?”

“He’s
in the Merchant Navy, serving as a medical officer.”

“On
what ship?”

I
looked at him and bit my lip.  “The Dorothy-May,” I said quietly.

He
remained silent for a few seconds before saying matter-of-factly,  “The ship
that took you to France.”

“How
did you know that?”

“I
helped Mrs Holland plan your trip.”

“Yes,
I suppose you did,” I sighed. 

“It
must be quite an adventure for him, but lonely being away from his family.”

I
couldn’t help grinning.  “He’s with his wife, so he’s far from lonely.”

“Is
he now.  That is interesting.”  He studied me.  “Are you going to tell me what
you found distressing in the paper this morning?”

“What
makes you think I saw anything distressing?”

He
threw back his head and gave a pleasant laugh.  “I know you well enough by now,
my sweet Isabelle, to know when you’re hiding the truth.”

“It’s
silly really.”

“Tell
me.”

“I
suddenly noticed the date.”  He frowned in bewilderment so I explained,  “It’s
the twentieth of December.  The anniversary of the mining accident.”

“Ah,
I see.”

I
looked down at my fingers, clenched together in a tight knot.  “Nine years…” My
voice became choked and my eyes filled.  “The strangest thing is that I’d
completely forgotten that it was today.  It’s the first time I’ve woken up and
not remembered when it’s been the anniversary.”

“It
means you’re moving on.  Putting it in the past and that’s good,” he said
gently.

I
knew I was leaning too close to him.  “But when I do remember, the pain tears
me apart.  I wonder if that will ever go away.”

“It
will, but it might take a little time yet.”

Our
eyes met and I became transfixed, drowning in the depths of his blue-green
eyes.  And then he slowly bent his face closer to mine, his lips parted, his
eyelids half-closed.  I knew he was going to kiss me, I wanted him to kiss me
and raised my chin expectantly.  His lips brushed mine ever so lightly and a
quiver coursed through me.  I trembled when his fingers caressed the back of my
neck and then he pressed his mouth down on mine, making me moan softly.  It
wasn’t a long kiss, only a matter of seconds, but when he raised his head, his
eyes were darker, a gentle smile playing on his lips.  Oh God, I thought, he
knows the truth.

The
sound of running feet made me pull away from him.

“Mrs Asquith,
where are you?  You said we could go out if it stopped raining and it has.” 
Emily’s voice echoed down the gallery. 

In
seconds, we were surrounded by three boisterous children demanding our
attention.

I was glad to be
outside.  The morning seemed fresh and clean now that the sun had appeared in a
vivid blue sky.  The heady fragrance of moist grass filled my nostrils and I
breathed deeply, filling my lungs with country air. 

“Where
shall we go?” I asked the children.

“Let’s
go down by the river,” said Danny.

“We
always go there,” said Abigail. 

“I
like to see the water moving,” he said, with more patience than could be
expected of one so young.

“It’s
boring and anyway, haven’t you seen a river before, City Boy.”

“We
have the Thames,” I answered, hoping that this outing wouldn’t end in harsh
words and disagreements.  “It’s one of the busiest rivers in the world.”

“And
the dirtiest,” sneered Abigail.  “I’ve heard there’s a terrible pong from it in
the summer.”

“It’s
better than it was forty years ago,” I said, smiling.

Abigail
just grunted in reply and we set off down the drive.  I let the children run on
ahead.

It
was the ninth anniversary of Daniel and Papa’s death and I had forgotten to
mark the date. It seemed incredible for that to happen.  Perhaps Brett was
right and I was moving on.  I looked up into the vastness of the blue sky and
smiled.  I love you my darling husband, I whispered, but please let me go.  I
heard his voice in the sound of the murmuring breeze in the trees, in the
gurgling of the river as it tumbled and gushed under the iron footbridge.  He
was telling me that he had let me go.  It was I that was reluctant to let go of
him.

We
crossed the footbridge and reached the bank on the far side, slowly making our
way along the neatly clipped grass that rolled down to the water’s edge.  We
came to the rope, swinging very gently in the morning breeze. 

“It’s
a pity we can’t swing on it,” said Danny.

“You’ll
have to wait until the summer,” said Emily, digging him in the ribs.

“Let’s
jump on the stones,” said Danny.  “I’ll be the leader.”

“Be
careful,” I called.  “Those stones will be slippery.”

Just
a few feet from the riverbank, eight large boulders stuck out above the surface
of the water.  In the past, the children had leapt onto these in a crazy
hopscotch fashion.  Danny had suggested that more should be dropped into the
water, reaching to the other side and then they could stone-hop right across
the river.  But Lord Waltham had told him that it was too deep.

Danny
jumped on the first stone and then leapt to the second.  Emily followed,
screaming at him to hurry up or she would catch him.  Abigail stood on the
bank, looking bored.  Her petulant face was not something I wanted to see, so I
turned away from her and watched the other two playing, overjoyed that they
were the best of friends.  One day they must be told that they are brother and
sister, especially if Emily had designs on Danny as a future husband.  But how
to tell them was the problem.  I stared across the water to where Claythorpe
House stood majestic and proud.  It really was a magnificent building, set in a
spectacular part of England.  I was glad to be there even if I did love a man
who was unavailable to me.  I turned round to see what Abigail was doing.