Songbird (40 page)

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. 

That
evening I sent off a letter to Gwilym. 

The
next five days were idyllic and I spent as much time as possible with Emily and
her father.  When Brett was busy, Emily and I would take walks or read in the
shade of the large oak in the meadow.  I would push her on the swing that was
attached to one of its branches and one morning when it rained, I played the
piano and we sang together.  But the most interesting time was when I joined
them in the pasture and watched Brett and Emily ride.  I was impressed with the
way she handled a horse at such a young age and as for her father, the sight of
him was a revelation.  I had never seen him on horseback and he looked
magnificent, sitting tall and straight with his riding breeches stretched tight
across his thighs.

I
leaned against the fence, watching them ride up and down while Brett instructed
her. 

He
turned in the saddle and called, “Why don’t you ride with us, Isabelle?”

“Oh,
yes, Mrs Asquith,” cried Emily.  “It would be such fun.”

“Yes,
when I fall off.”

Brett
rode up to me.  “I think you’ll do well on a horse.  You’ll be quite safe.”

I
smiled sweetly.  “I’m happier this side of the fence.”

He
laughed and galloped back to his daughter.

Angelique and I
were becoming firm friends.  When she felt well, we would often sit in the
Greek temple, while she told me about her childhood in France, about Chateau St
Julienne, about her parents, the Duc and Duchesse de St Julienne.  I listened
but didn’t comment.  Sometimes I wondered if my expression betrayed my
knowledge of the things she spoke of.  I hoped it didn’t and I tried
desperately to stay interested without displaying enthusiasm.  And when she was
exhausted and needed to lie down, I would help her back to the house. 

One
morning, about a week after arriving, I walked with Angelique and it wasn’t
long before we were at the lake.

“Do
you miss the stage, Mrs Asquith?” she asked, smiling. 

“No,
not really.  I think my tour exhausted me.”

“
Oui
,
that is natural.  You worked hard.”

“But
I feel more rested now.”

“You
must stay as long as you wish.”

“I
don’t want to outstay my welcome and I’m starting to miss my family.”

“Of
course.  Your son is enchanting.  And he rides so well.”

I
gazed across the water marvelling at the reflections dancing on its surface. 
“I really must decide what to do when I get back to London.”

She
patted my arm reassuringly.  “Perhaps you could go back to Covent Garden?”

I
shook my head and noticed she was already showing signs of fatigue.

“Are
you all right?  Would you like to go inside?”

She
smiled a haunted smile.  “I am well, Mrs Asquith.”

I
doubted that, but said, “Please call me Isabelle.  After all, we know each
other better now.”

“
Oui
,
I will call you Isabelle.”  She gave me a sidelong glance and then her
expression became misty as if she was in a trance.  She spoke slowly.  “I know
who you are, Isabelle.”  I didn’t understand and frowned.  “I know who you
are,” she repeated.  “You are Emily’s mother.  The young woman my husband paid
to bear his child.”

CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT

M
y
mouth dried up in an instant and I licked my lips.  “How did you know?” I
whispered.

“Before
that Christmas at Claythorpe, I had never set eyes on you, you’ll understand. 
But something…what do you call it? 
Oui
, feminine intuition told me that
you were her mother.  You were always very good with her.  Far better than I
would ever be.  And of course, you saved her life that dreadful day.”

“I
would have done that for any child.”

“Perhaps. 
But she has a look about her.  She certainly has your eyes.”

I
tried to read her expression.  Was she angry to discover who I was?  Did she
hate my presence in her home?  I remembered Brett and Mrs Holland telling me
about her impatience with Emily, the fact she couldn’t tolerate the liveliness,
the noise of a young child.

“Her
birth seems such a long time ago now,” I said.

“It
must have been a shock for you to meet Brett again.”

I
couldn’t hold back my laughter.  “I almost fainted.”

“If I
remember, you did,” she smiled weakly.

“But
that was for another reason.” I grinned and then my amusement faded.  “How do
you feel about me?” 

She
studied me and her eyes seemed like dark pools.  A gentle breeze moved the soft
curls from her forehead.  “I am pleased to meet you at last.”

“You
don’t mind me being in your home?”

“I
knew you were Emily’s mother before you came to Standford Park and you are
still very welcome here.

“Thank
you,” I murmured.  “Does Brett know you know?”

“He
doesn’t but I shall tell him after luncheon.”

I
breathed a sigh of relief.  “Oh, wonderful.  Then the air will be clear between
us.”

She
grimaced.  “It will make him feel very uncomfortable, but not for long I
think.”  She gave a bright smile.  “You got on well with Mrs Holland,
oui
?”

“She was
a lovely lady.  And she thought so highly of you.”

“We
were very fond of each other.  I’m pleased she left you her home.  I know that
you will honour her memory by respecting it.”

“Yes,
I will.”  I took in a deep breath.  “I always loved that house.”

We
headed back for our luncheon. 

And
after luncheon Angelique summoned Brett to her room and he spent a good hour in
discussion with her.  As she had surmised he was taken aback and when he joined
me in the drawing room he seemed surprised but more relaxed.

“Perhaps
it’s for the best,” he said.  He kissed my lips.  “No more secrets.”       

The following
day while Emily was at her lessons, I went for a walk alone thinking over my
conversation with Lady Shelbrook.  She was such a kind, thoughtful woman and I
was glad she knew about me.  But Brett was wrong about ‘no more secrets’.  She
didn’t know that I was Brett’s mistress?  I doubted she would be pleased about
that.  Perhaps I should leave.  Danny would be missing me and at the end of
October Diamond would be getting married.  And then there was Ruth’s baby the
following month.  But I couldn’t bear to leave Brett.  Our nights together were
wonderful.  I would wait for him to slip into bed with me and hold me close,
kissing away my troubles.  We didn’t always make love.  Sometimes we would fall
asleep in each other’s arms, enjoying the comfort of being together.

I
decided to return to the house since rain seemed to be threatening.  Entering
the hall I spied an envelope resting on a silver salver and glanced at the name
on the front. 
Miss Emmeline Barri, Standford Park, Wiltshire
was
written in flowing script, so I lifted the flap and drew out the thin piece of
paper. 

I
read it, anger welling up inside me.  Laughter echoed from the pretty parlour
where we always had our morning coffee and I stuffed the letter in my pocket,
quickly crossed the floor and opened the door.

“Oh,
here she is,” smiled Lady Shelbrook.  “Just in time for coffee.”

She
poured me a cup and I took it, sinking down next to her on the couch.

“Did
you enjoy your walk?” asked Brett.

I
nodded.  “Yes, I went to the temple and sat inside for a while.” 

“
Oui
,
such a peaceful place,” nodded Angelique and added, “A letter came for you.” 

“Yes,
someone has written me a verse,” I said, sipping my drink.

“A
verse,” repeated Angelique.  She gave a merry laugh.  “Do you mean a love
poem!  Goodness me, do you have a secret admirer in the house.  You must read
it to us, or is it too private?”

“I
don’t think it’s private,” I whispered.

I
placed my coffee cup on the table and went into my pocket.  My eyes misted over
as I looked at the words again.  I glanced up.  Brett and Angelique smiled at
me, waiting.

I
cleared my throat.

My thoughts are
firmly fixed on you

To even up the
score

For when I’ve
done with you, my girl

You’ll sing your
songs no more

I
shivered and looked up.  Their expressions had completely changed.

“Whoever
it is, certainly gets the message across,” I said, my voice feeling gritty in
my throat.

Brett
held out his hand and I gave him the note.  His eyes swept over it.

“Damn
it!  If it’s one of the servants playing games they will be dismissed
immediately.”

“But
who could possibly write such a terrible thing?” said Angelique.

“I’ll
make enquiries,” he said and headed for the door. 

I
watched him leave, my mind spinning.

“People
can be so cruel,” said Angelique.  “Do you have any inkling who it might be? 
Someone in the theatre, perhaps?”

I
shrugged.  “Well, there are rivalries in the theatre world, of course.  And
that can lead to envy and bitterness.  But no, I can’t think of anyone.”

Angelique
squeezed my hand.  “It’s a stupid prank, Isabelle.  My husband will get to the
bottom of it, rest assured.”

Later
that day, Brett and I discussed the strong possibility of the note coming from
Jane.  Wisely, he urged me to inform the police since the message did harbour
malicious intent.  But unwisely, I declined.  I couldn’t bear the thought of
being caught up in a police investigation and convinced him it was all a silly
game and that Jane and the threat should be ignored. 

When
a letter arrived from Nan with a note enclosed from Gwilym, I forgot the
incident entirely.

Nan
told me news of the family and how Danny was enjoying his school.  He had made
many friends and often they would call to play cricket in the park. 
He’s a
popular boy
, wrote Nan and then added,
You did the right thing by
sending him to prep school
.

Then
I read Gwilym’s note.  He told me that the drug digitalis was prepared from
foxgloves and was used to stimulate the heart and therefore, was prescribed
extensively for patients with heart disease or a heart condition. 

I
read the words with dismay.  Brett had always told me that Angelique suffered
from ‘nerves’.  In fact, everyone thought that Angelique suffered from nerves. 
At Claythorpe, Eloise had said that Lady Shelbrook became overwrought and
anxious and the doctors said it was all down to her sensitive nature.

I
decided to pay a visit to Angelique’s room after dinner when Brett had gone to
the stables to check on the spring foals.

She was sitting
up in bed, a shawl round her shoulders when I entered the room and she waved
away her maid and told her to come back when she rang. 

“You
visit me again.  How nice,” she said, patting the mattress. 

I
made myself comfortable.  “I think we should talk.”

Her
blue eyes became wide with surprise.  “Is there something wrong?”

I
gestured at the medicine beside her bed.  “My brother is a doctor and I’ve
discovered that digitalis is a drug given to patients with a heart condition.”

She
sank back against the pillows a smile hovering round her lips.  “You’ve
discovered my little secret, Isabelle.”

“Secret?”

“That
my heart is not…healthy.”

“You
are ill?  I knew there was something wrong, I could see it.  But why does
everyone think you suffer from nerves?  And why doesn’t Brett know about your
illness?”

“Because
I don’t wish him to know.  Because I don’t wish anyone to know.”  She narrowed
her eyes as if studying me.  “Only a few people know the truth.  My doctor, of
course.  My maid through necessity and now, you.”

“I
don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head.

“It’s
simple.  The doctor has told me that I have one of those rare heart conditions
that could take my life at any time.  I could die in my sleep tonight or I
could live another twenty years.  I don’t want my husband to worry about me or
feel tied to a marriage that is not a marriage.”

“But
you must not keep it from him.”

She
nodded.  “Had he ended our marriage I would have felt relieved and no doubt
returned to France.  But he did not and so I can only wish him to live life to
the full.  I want him to be happy and he wouldn’t be happy if he knew my
illness was serious.”

“You’ve
asked your doctor to keep it confidential?”

“
Oui
. 
And he has out of respect for me.”

My
thoughts turned to Emily.  “Is that why you suggested Brett father a child?”

She
smiled.  “He wanted a child and he knew I couldn’t bear him one.  But he never
spoke of it for fear of distressing me.  I persuaded him that he must make a
baby with a young, healthy woman and then the child could live here at
Standford Park.  And Emily has been a joy to him.”

I
took her hand, tears welling up causing me pain.  “You are so thoughtful.  A
wife in a million, I think.  But you must tell him about your illness, he has a
right to know and then he’ll understand why you must be confined to bed so
often.”

She
shook her head.  “No, he must not know.  Please, keep my secret, Isabelle and I
will keep yours.”

“My
secret?”

She
glanced away and when she turned back her smile was hardly discernible.  “The
truth that you are my husband’s mistress.”

“You
know?” I cleared my throat of the choking sensation.  “I’m sorry…I will leave…I
wouldn’t want…”

“Dear
Isabelle.  Please don’t disconcert yourself.  I’m happy about it.  No, more
than that, I’m grateful that it is so.”

“You
are?”

“My
husband has needs that are perfectly natural.  It is the way with men, they
need the comfort of a woman.  It’s good that it’s you that shares his bed.” 

I
felt stunned.  “Not many wives would agree to their husbands taking a mistress.”

“No,”
she agreed.  “Even so, men have mistresses.  Your Princess Alexandra must put
up with the Prince of Wales and his amours.  However, this is different.  My
husband is not spending his time with women of dubious reputation or with
members of the aristocracy who would gossip and laugh at me for my failings. 
No, he has chosen you and I’m content.”  I tried to speak but she stopped me
with a finger over my lips.  “I want you to be with him.  You gave him a child
and have earned the right to be his lover.  Go to your room, Isabelle and wait
for him to come to you and when he makes love to you remember it is with my
knowledge and approval.”

“A birthday
party?”

Brett
and I were in the garden waiting for Emily to finish her morning’s lessons
before he took her riding.  He was dressed in riding clothes and as he spoke he
tapped his whip against his boots.  A habit he was unaware of but one I had
come to notice. 

“It’s
been planned for some time, but I often wondered if Angelique would be well
enough to attend a party for her birthday.  Now she tells me that you must stay
and be her special guest.  Everyone has been invited.  Lord and Lady Waltham,
Eloise Babbington, the Marquess of Salisbury.  Sir Joshua and his wife.  Of
course, I told her that you want to go home the day after tomorrow and staying
a further week would be out of the question.”  He looked at me expectantly.

“You
want me to stay, don’t you?”

He
coughed.  “It would be wonderful if you did.”

I
looked across at the flowerbeds, a glorious profusion of colour and thought it
over.  It would mean that my stay at Standford Park would have lasted three
weeks instead of two.  But would that matter?  My time was my own.  I turned my
head to look at the man standing close to me, his smile soft as he waited for
my reply.  I hadn’t told him that his wife knew about us, not wanting to alarm
him or make him feel guilty.  And he would feel guilty, I knew that for sure.