Songbird (30 page)

She
shook her head and took Danny’s hand.  “Come on, young man.  Time for your
luncheon.”

I
glanced in the mirror making sure my hair was neat, my dress tidy.  I turned
the door handle and stepped into the room.  To my surprise, the first person I
saw was Brett.  He was standing by the window and a shock wave surged through
me as he turned and smiled.  Suddenly, I felt very self-conscious that he
should be in my home.

He
came towards me.  “My dear Isabelle.  You look very well,” he said, taking my
hand.

“Thank
you.  I feel well.”

Then
I realised that someone else was in the room.  He was standing to one side, a
small, rather overweight man with a round face and many chins.  His complexion
was ruddy and his nose and cheeks were tinged blue.  Oh dear, I thought, a man
who likes his drink.

He
came forward and held out his hand.  Brett made the introductions.  “This is
Mrs Isabelle Asquith, the lady I’ve told you so much about.  Isabelle, this is
Mr Ryder from Ryder and Son, Solicitors.”

I
felt bewildered.  “Solicitors.  Are you planning on suing me?”

Brett
grinned.  “No, nothing like that.”  His smile faded.  “But we have come on a
serious matter.  Perhaps you’d better sit down.”

He
pulled out a chair and I made myself comfortable.  They also took seats and Mr
Ryder thrust his hand into a leather bag and pulled out a small stack of
papers, tied with ribbon.  My heart lurched in my chest.  It must be about
Emily.  Now that I had met her, her father wanted me to sign a document
confirming I had no rights over her and that I wouldn’t interfere in her life
or demand contact with her.  I looked at him and my eyes must have shown my
distress.  He understood, gave a slight smile and the merest shake of his head.

“Perhaps
you’d like to tell her, my lord?” said the solicitor solemnly.  “And then I can
take up the legal details.”

Brett
nodded and took my hand.  “Isabelle, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Mrs
Holland died ten days ago.”  I let out a cry of pained surprise and he squeezed
my hand.  “I received a telegram from her maid, Jane, telling me that she had
taken ill with diabetes.  She wasn’t ill for long I’m relieved to say and I was
at her bedside when she passed away.”

I
leaned my elbows on the table forcing back tears.

“The
poor lady.”

The
man sitting opposite us shuffled the papers, eager to get on with the business
in hand.

He
cleared his throat.  “Yes, very sad.  Very sad, indeed.”

“I’d
like to attend her funeral.  When is it and where?” I asked.

Brett
shook his head.  “She’s already buried.  Three days ago in the churchyard of St
Peter’s.  She didn’t want you to know about her illness or attend her funeral.”

I
felt horrified that I had missed saying farewell to a woman who had shown me
such kindness.

“But
why not?” I almost lost my voice with the hurt I felt.

“She
didn’t want you to be distressed.”  He sent a quick glance towards the
solicitor and then bent his head closer to mine.  “Perhaps we can talk about it
later?” he whispered.

I
swallowed and didn’t know how to answer.

“I
think it better if we deal with the legal matters now,” said Mr Ryder.  He
seemed uneasy in my presence and fiddled with his collar and tie.  “That’s if
you feel up to it, Mrs Asquith?”  I nodded, knowing I had no alternative but to
hear what he had to say.  He sifted through the documents.  “Now then, as Mrs
Holland’s solicitor and the joint executor of her estate, along with Lord
Shelbrook here, I have to inform you that the dear, departed lady has left you
her house and all chattels and furniture that go with the said property.”

I
stared at him in disbelief.  “She’s left me her house?”

Brett
nodded.  “She left bequests to friends and some charities she admired.  Jane,
her maid, also received a small legacy.  But she felt the house should go to
you.”

“Why?”

“Something
else to talk about later,” he whispered. 

I
stared at him and wondered why all this secrecy.

Mr
Ryder gave a gentle cough.  “All I need is your signature on these papers transferring
the ownership to you.  It’s quite straightforward.  His lordship says he’ll be
happy to witness everything.”  He sifted through the documents and passed one
to me.

I
smiled at Brett; grateful he was there to help me.  He smiled back.  “Yes, of
course,” I murmured.

I
spread the document on the table and read it carefully.  And there it was in
legal terms, stating that the property known as number fifteen Gibson Place,
Ealing and owned by the late Mrs Rachel Holland…Rachel, I thought, I had never
known her Christian name…was now the legal property of Mrs Isabelle Asquith.  I
took the pen offered by Mr Ryder and signed my name and then Brett signed his
alongside mine.  We had to do the same with the copy that was then given to me.

“There
you are, my dear Mrs Asquith,” said the solicitor briskly.  He pulled a large,
silver watch from his pocket.  “Goodness me, is it that time already?  We must
be going.”  He collected his papers together and took a calling-card from his
pocket.  “This is my address, so if you need my services then please call at my
offices.  If you decide to let the property or sell it, I’ll be delighted to
act for you.”

“What
about the keys to the house?” I asked timidly.  For some reason, I felt
embarrassed that Mrs Holland’s beautiful house now belonged to me.

“Jane
is still living there,” said Brett.  “It might be a good idea to let her know
your plans as soon as possible.”

Mr
Ryder eased his corpulent frame out of the chair and stood and Brett and I
stood also.  I showed them out to the hallway where they put on their coats and
collected their hats and gloves.  The solicitor gave me a hearty handshake and
Brett raised my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers.  And then they were
through the door and climbing aboard the waiting cab.  I stood on the doorstep
and watched it roll over the cobblestones and down the street.

I
stayed in the hallway for a while, my back against the front door.  Mrs Holland
had died.  How I wished I had been to visit her again.  Why had I delayed?  Now
it was too late.  An envelope on the hall table caught my attention.  I picked
it up and read
Mrs Isabelle Asquith
in bold letters on the front.  I
carried it into the dining room and tore it open. 

It
was from Brett.

My dear, sweet
Isabelle,

How I
have missed you and how I have longed for a letter from you.  Your silence
saddened me but I accepted it in the full knowledge that I promised I would ask
nothing of you.  But now circumstances have forced my hand and I find I must
call on you at your home.

 There
are matters I would like to discuss with you and I would very much like you to
take supper with me tonight at my club.  I will send a cab for you at nine
o’clock.  However, if the driver returns without you then I will understand.

If I
must return to Standford Park without seeing you again, then I will write and
tell you the details I wish you to know. 

Your devoted

Brett

My
first thought was that I couldn’t go.  I would be right in the middle of the
performance.  But then I had second thoughts.  What if I sent a message to
Andrew that I was ill?  A feeling of shame swiftly followed the idea.  It was
deceitful but then surely one Saturday night was allowed me?  I had worked
constantly since Christmas.  As I stood in the middle of the room considering the
problem of meeting a married man, I convinced myself that I was going to
discuss business.  Yes, I would go and ask Brett the questions that ached to be
answered.  I ran upstairs and hid the letter and document in my dressing table
drawer and then I went down to tell the others my news.

“But who is…was
this Mrs Holland?  You’ve never mentioned her,” said Nan.

“Oh,
someone I met quite a few years ago,” I answered.

“While
you were still a music teacher?  Or did she have something to do with the
theatre?”

“When
I was a music teacher,” I said truthfully.

Nan
and Diamond’s expressions showed their surprise.

“And
this house is in Ealing?” said Diamond.

I
nodded.  “It’s a beautiful house in a lovely area.”

“But
why did she leave it to you?” said Nan.

“I’m
not sure, except we always got along very well and she must have thought more
of me than I ever realised.”

“So,
what’s your plan,” said Nan, turning her mind to more practical matters.

I
leaned my elbows on the kitchen table and rested my chin on my clenched hands. 
“The house is mine and I’m free to let it or sell it.  But it seems silly to be
paying rent ourselves when there’s a lovely home waiting for us.”

“You’re
talking about us moving?” said Nan quietly.

My
eyes swept around the kitchen.  “We’ve lived here for three and a half years
and we’ve been very happy.  I don’t want to move if you don’t so please tell me
what you want to do.”

Diamond
shuffled in her seat.  “Ealing is quite a way out of London.  We’ll have
further to travel to work.”

“Yes,
but it’ll be worth it.”

She
became thoughtful.  “Victor lives in Ealing,” she murmured.

Nan
and I exchanged amused glances.  She had never mentioned his name before, but
we knew who Victor was.

“Perhaps
he would travel with us and share the cost of a hackney?” I suggested
nonchalantly.  “Three Thespians together will make it an enjoyable journey.”

Diamond
didn’t answer, making a proposal of her own.  “Why don’t we go and see this
house and make up our minds then?”

“What
about tomorrow morning?” I said.

And
they both agreed.

CHAPTER
THIRTY

I
bathed and dressed with care that evening, my heart throbbing in my throat.  As
I fastened my hair with a silver comb, my hands trembled alarmingly.  I looked
at myself in the mirror.  I had chosen a blue dress with white lace trimming
and a matching coat.  A white fur boa and muff completed the ensemble.  When
the cab arrived, I was ready, although I was so nervous my mouth kept drying
up.

The
journey didn’t seem to take more than fifteen minutes as the driver guided the
cab through the busy London streets that were thronged with evening revellers. 
I watched the shops and houses go by and then realised that we were travelling
in a familiar direction.  By the time we pulled up outside the massive double
doors of the gentlemen’s club, I was panicking.  How could Brett be a member of
same club as Andrew, in a city that was filled with gentlemen’s clubs?

He
was waiting for me and smiled as the cab came to a stop.  Opening the door, he
helped me alight and I noticed he was wearing a dress suit of fine wool and a
shirt and waistcoat of white cotton.

“I’m
so glad you came,” he whispered.  He turned to the cabby.  “Come back at
eleven-thirty, will you.”  The driver raised his whip handle to the brim of his
hat in acknowledgement.  Brett offered his arm and I slipped my hand through. 
“I’ve asked for a table that’s private, so we can discuss matters without being
overheard.”

I
tried to hide my nervousness, but I could feel myself trembling.  “I seem to
have so many questions for you.”

“All
in good time,” he said, patting my hand.

He
led me into the hallway and as we crossed the floor of cream tiles, I knew for
certain that the portraits of former presidents were glaring down at me in
absolute disapproval.  I was taking supper with a married man and it was
disgraceful!  I left my coat, boa and muff with the cloakroom attendant and
then clutching my fan tightly, we went into the dining room.  A waiter showed
us to a table at the far end of the room and in a secluded bay.  I was glad of
its position, since if Andrew happened to come into the club after the
performance, I would have the opportunity of hiding behind the partition.  I
looked around and noticed again the gold and red décor and the white marble
statues of Greek gods and goddesses in naked poses.

“Have
you been a member long?” I asked casually, taking the menu from the waiter.

Brett
nodded.  “Yes, for nearly twenty years.  I come to London about three or four
times a year on business and my stay here is always very comfortable.”

I
tried not to giggle and failed, remembering that I was once the ‘business’ that
he had come to London for.

“It’s
a nice place,” I said, looking around.  I closed the menu.  “I must ask how
Emily is.  Did she have a lovely Christmas?”

He
smiled with his memories.  “She always does and the toys she receives would
fill a shop.”  He cleared his throat.  “She has a slight scar on her forehead
and she shows it to everyone, telling them how Mrs Asquith saved her from
drowning in the icy waters of the river.”

“I
don’t like to think of that incident too often,” I said with a grimace.

He
reached across and took my hand.  “I have a lot to thank you for.”

I
looked around to see if anyone was watching us and then glanced at him
wondering if I should tell him about the appalling decision I made that
terrible day.  To let our daughter drown so that I could save my son.  But then
I decided that it was better left unsaid.  After all, the thought was not
followed by the deed.

“We’re
going to visit Mrs Holland’s house tomorrow morning,” I told him cheerfully.

“You
mean your house.”

“I
don’t feel it’s my house yet.  I’ve been talking to Nan and Diamond and I’ve
suggested that we move in.”

“I
think you should.”  He paused for a moment.  “I take it Nan and Diamond are the
ladies you live with?”

“Nan
is my sister-in-law and Diamond my friend.  I’d like us to move in.  As I told
them, it seems silly to pay rent when there’s a home for us in Ealing.  The
trouble is, that house means…it’s where…”

“We
first met,” he finished.  The waiter came to take our order.

“It’ll
be strange if we do live there,” I said, watching the waiter disappear to the
kitchen.

“Mrs
Holland wanted you to have the house and she wanted you to live in it.”

“Did
she tell you that?”

“Yes,
she did.  I was with her for two days before she died and she spoke often of
you.  She had no relatives to leave her property to and she knew you would love
and care for her home.”

“I
always thought it a beautiful house, but it still doesn’t explain why she left
it to me.  She had friends even if she had no family.  Surely, they were more
entitled than I?”

“She
looked on you as the daughter she never had.”

“Did
she?  I never realised.  I thought Jane would have been more like a daughter.”

“Jane
is a servant,” he said dryly.

“I
must work for a living.”

“But
your upbringing makes you middle-class.  Jane is working-class.”

I
sniffed in contempt.  “I think you’re a snob, sir!”

He
raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “I’m landed nobility and I have set ideas
about a person’s place in life.”

My
lips twitched with amusement and I decided to drop the subject.  The waiter
brought our meal and I spread the napkin over my knee.

“Why
didn’t Mrs Holland want me to know about her illness and why, oh why, was I not
told about her funeral?”

Brett
let out a long breath.  “It was her express wish that you mustn’t be
informed.”  He poured out a glass of wine for me.  “She knew her life was
coming to an end and she wanted to make a full confession to me.  And because
of that she couldn’t bear to see you.  I think she suffered a conflict of
loyalties after telling me everything.  I sincerely believe she thought you
would hate her for betraying a confidence.”

I
felt shocked.  “But I never would have done that.”

“I
don’t think she wanted to give you the opportunity by asking you to come to her
sickbed.”

I
sighed sadly.  “Well, I’ll visit her grave tomorrow and say farewell.”  I
watched him curiously.  “So, what did she confess?”

“That
she had discovered you had already given birth when she examined you.”  He
paused for a moment before saying, “And I must say here and now, that that
examination was my wife’s idea.  I thought it was quite unnecessary for you to
undergo such an invasive procedure.”  His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and
he took a gulp of wine.

I
shrugged indifferently.  “Perhaps it was for the best.  At least you knew I
wasn’t…intact, when we were first together.”

“Hmm. 
Quite so,” he said into his glass.

I
tried not to smile and failed.  “What else did she tell you?”

“That
while in France you told her about your marriage.”  His eyes darkened.  “And
she decided to keep that from me too.”

“Were
you cross with her?”

“No,
not really, although to be honest, I had been specific in my instructions.  She
was to tell me everything she discovered about you.  I felt I had the right to
know.  But I hadn’t calculated on the human side to this agreement.  The fact
that she would form a friendship with you and therefore, would feel a loyalty
towards you also.”

“But
you were financing the arrangement.  It truth, she should have served your
needs not mine.”

This
made him smile.  “It just goes to show that money doesn’t always matter.”

There
was a lull in the conversation as we ate.  I thought over his last comment. 
Money had certainly mattered to me.  I had been more than willing to hand over
my child for financial gain.

I
wanted to change the subject and asked quickly,  “Do you really think I should
live in the house?”

He
nodded slowly.  “Yes.  It’s your house now.  Make it your home.”

I
still had doubts.  “But whenever I visited Mrs Holland, I was Miss Pritchard. 
And you and I were there together.  For two weeks we were intimate in that
house.  Is it possible to live there with those kind of memories?”

His
expression became tender as he reached across and took my hand.  “Are they
happy memories?” he asked softly.

“In
some ways they are,” I whispered.  “But Brett, that house will remind me of us,
of our child and how I gave her up.”

He
visibly started.  “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”

I
smiled sadly.  “It’s taken me a while to think of you as Brett.”

“Even
so, it’s wonderful to hear,” he said, kissing my fingers.  “So, you still feel
guilty about the fact you gave up your child?”

“Yes,”
I gulped.

“There’s
nothing to feel guilty about.  You gave me a truly wonderful little girl.  And
then fate threw us together again.  And in that short week, you became more of
a mother to Emily, than Angelique ever was.”

“I’d
love to hear her call me Mama,” I said wistfully.  “But I suppose I never
will.”

He
looked down at our entwined fingers.  “I never thought you’d meet her,” he
murmured.  “So the fact it happened seems a miracle in itself.”  He raised his
face and his blue-green eyes sparkled.  “And I never thought I’d see you
again.  That’s another miracle I’m grateful for.”

“You’re
glad I came to Claythorpe House?”

He
nodded.  “You’ll never know how much I longed to see you again.  I wished for
it every single day.”  His fingers gently caressed mine.  “Isabelle, I’m
leaving in two days’ time and I desperately want to see you again.  Please say
we may meet again tomorrow.”

His
request was unexpected and my instincts urged me to cry no, it is wrong.  But
his eyes showed such wretchedness that it disturbed me.

“You
said you would ask nothing of me.”

He
looked uncomfortable.  “You’re right and I’m breaking my own rules.”

“Rules
are meant to be broken,” I said softly.

“Yes,
I always said that, didn’t I.”  He took in a deep breath.  “I’ve decided to
visit the art gallery tomorrow afternoon.  I thought I’d go about two o’clock. 
It’s an excellent place to go if it starts raining.”

I
remained silent as we stared at each other.  And then I watched mesmerised, as
his fingers continued to caress my hand.