Songbird (39 page)

“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
seemed 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.”

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.”