Songbird (12 page)

“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 loved 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

I
t 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 shoulder 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.”

I
glanced at the paper in front of me and then I looked at Mrs Holland.  I had
come to trust this woman that I had first met only seven months before.  She
was almost like the mother I had lost at a time when I needed her the most. 
Perhaps it was time to tell the truth.

“I’m
afraid I have a problem,” I murmured, biting my lip.

“Is
that so?  Well, perhaps you can tell me and we can sort it out together. 
That’s what I’m here for.”

I
smiled, pleased and yet amused at her concern for me.  “I don’t think I’ve
thought things through properly,” I said.

Mrs
Holland took my hand and led me over to the couch by the fire.  “Then sit down
and we’ll discuss it.”

We
sat and I gazed into the flames of the fire.  “I don’t know where to begin,” I
said, shaking my head.

Mrs
Holland smiled and patted my knee.  “You’re having a problem writing your
letter?”  I nodded.  “That means you’re not sure how to explain your situation
here at the chateau?”  I nodded again.  She paused before saying, “May I ask
you what you told your family about this trip to France?”

“I said
I had taken a position in a ladies academy teaching music.  I told them that I
would see if I liked it and if I hated it then I would return home.  I thought
that would leave everything open for when I did return in July.”

“What
a splendid ruse, my dear.”

“The
trouble is, my address is Chateau St Julienne and not a ladies academy.”

Mrs
Holland considered this for a moment.  “There is a ladies academy about ten
miles from Rennes.”  The look on my face made her smile.  “Firstly, it might be
better if you use writing paper bought from a stationers.  I’ll get some this
afternoon.  Secondly, I know the headmistress of this academy, so I’m sure she
won’t mind you using her address.”  She nodded reassuringly.  “I’ll pay her a
visit and ask her if it will be acceptable.  It will be lovely to see her again
after all these years.”  I gave a half-smile realising that that was only the
smallest of my problems.  Mrs Holland noticed my lack of enthusiasm. “Come on,
my dear, out with it.  I can see you have something else on your mind.”

I
summoned my courage.  “When you…examined me last September,” I started
hesitantly, “did you notice anything…about me?”

Mrs
Holland’s expression darkened.  “Why do you ask?”

“Please
answer me.  What did you discover?” I refused to be deflected from my question.

She
turned her head away.  “My dear, it’s not important now.”

“It
is to me.”

She
looked at me, shaking her head sadly.  “I discovered…In fact, it was obvious to
me that you were not…”

“A
virgin?”  Now that I had said the word, I felt more confident.

“Yes,
I saw that was the case.”

Moments
of silence fell before I continued.  “And what was your opinion on that?”

She
shrugged indifferently.  “I had no opinion.  My instructions were to establish
that you were not already pregnant.  I saw that you were not and I was
content.”

“Did
you pass this information on to Karl and his wife?”

Mrs
Holland removed her spectacles and rubbed her eyes.  “I told Mr Karl.  If he
told his wife then that was up to him.”

“Was
he angry?”

“Why
should he be angry?  No, my dear, he didn’t expect a maid to agree to have a
child for him.  That would have been extremely foolish.”  She thought for a
moment.  “In fact, he was very relieved by my discovery, since if I had found
you were still intact then he would have cancelled the arrangement
immediately.”

“Why?”

“Because
he wouldn’t have compromised a young woman and ruined her chances of marrying
in the future.  Mr Karl is a gentleman.”  She placed her spectacles back on her
nose.  “However, the fact that you had agreed to it, made us suspect that you
had already lost your virginity.”  She sighed.  “We hoped a young widow would
apply, but none did.”

I was
relieved that she had turned her gaze back to the fire, as I knew my cheeks
must have turned a bright shade of scarlet.  My breathing quickened.

“Did
you discover anything else about me in your examination,” I whispered.

She
reached out and squeezed my hand, her head still turned towards the fireplace. 
“Yes, my dear.  I discovered that you’d had a child.”

My
heart started pounding in my head.  “You could see that?”

She
turned to face me.  “I saw the evidence.  You have a small tear that’s healed. 
It’s hardly noticeable, but I could see it and I knew it had come from
childbirth.”

“So,
you know,” I said huskily.

“It
happens more often than one would think.  Even to young women from a
respectable family.” She gave a sad smile.  “Look at Lisette’s sister.  She
came from a very good family, but fell in love with someone completely
unsuitable.” 

I
asked the next question with difficulty.  “And I suppose you told Karl that I’d
had a baby?”

Mrs
Holland’s expression became pained as if she was struggling with her
conscience.  “I was given firm instructions to pass on any information I had
about you.  I had to tell Mr Karl that you were no longer a virgin.  He would
have discovered that for himself anyway.  But I decided to ignore the fact you
had already given birth.”

“Why
did you do that?”

“Because
of my respect and loyalty for you.  I felt you deserved some privacy and if I had
told him then a lot of awkward questions might have been asked that would have
delayed matters.  And I felt it better to get this business out of the way as
soon as possible, so I stayed silent.”

“Oh,
I’m so glad,” I said, laughing and crying at the same time.  “I didn’t want him
to know.”

She
sighed sadly.  “It’s a sad affair when a young girl has a baby out of wedlock. 
It’s always the woman who has to carry the shame.  Men seem to get away with…”

I
squeezed her arm to stop her.  “Mrs Holland, if I tell you something, will you
promise to keep it a secret too?  You mustn’t tell Karl or his wife.”

“It
will be breaking the rules.”

“Rules
are meant to be broken.”

“All
right, my dear.  It seems to be a morning for getting everything out in the
open.  Tell me what you wish and it won’t go any further I promise.”

I
smiled.  “My baby wasn’t born out of wedlock.  My real name is Mrs Isabelle
Asquith.”  With her blue eyes as bright as a summer’s day, Mrs Holland listened
to the story of my life in the Rhondda and my life after.  At the end of my
story I felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. 
“So, now you know everything.”

“But
you must be very short of money if you agreed to…” She gestured towards my
expanding stomach.

“Oh,
Mrs Holland.  I don’t want to stay a music teacher.  I want to sing opera at
Covent Garden.  But before I can do that I must train at The Royal Academy of
Music.”

“That
sounds expensive.”

“Yes,
it is.  And that’s why I agreed to do this.”  I grimaced.  “But I don’t want
Karl and his wife to know anything about my life.  I said I was Miss Pritchard,
which was my maiden name, simply to keep my married life separate.  I loved my
husband with all my heart and I didn’t want to disrespect his memory by using
his name.”

She
pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at the corner of her eyes. 
“You’re a courageous girl.  No, Mr Karl and his wife will know nothing of your
life or your son…What did you call him?”

“Daniel
Barri,” I smiled.  “I named him after his father and grandfather.”

“Daniel
Barri,” she nodded.  “A good strong name.  No, Mr Karl and his wife are getting
what they want so that will be sufficient.  This doesn’t concern them.  I’ll
still refer to you as Miss Isabelle Pritchard.  So, you have no worries about
your true identity being revealed.”

“And
that brings me to my other problem,” I giggled as I saw her bewildered
expression.  “My sister-in-law will write back addressing her letters to Mrs
Isabelle Asquith.”

She
laughed with me.  “Yes, my dear.  And I will ask my good friend, the
headmistress of the ladies academy, if she will be so kind as to accept letters
on behalf of Mrs Isabelle Asquith.”

It
was a satisfying morning and when I wrote my letter to Nan, I told her that I
was contented because that was how I felt at that precise moment.