Songbird (6 page)

“Now,
I want you to take off your boots and dress,” she smiled pleasantly.  “Remove
your bloomers but keep your petticoat on and then lay down on top of the sheet
there.”

I
unlaced my boots and kicked them off and then undid the buttons on my dress,
slipping it down and stepping out of it.  Pulling down my drawers including the
soiled rags, I eased myself onto the folded sheet, wanting this to be done with
as soon as possible.  Mrs Holland drew my petticoat right above my waist,
talking to me all the time.  I tried to concentrate on her voice.  She was kind
and her tone was encouraging.  It seemed she didn’t like this task either but
she was under the same instructions as I.

I
hadn’t notice the wooden tray by the side of the bed, covered with a small,
white cloth, but when Mrs Holland went beneath the cloth and took out a shiny
metal instrument, I gave a cry of alarm.  She reassured me and told me to
spread my knees and relax.  I gripped the edge of the bed as she opened me up
with the implement and peered inside me.  I felt like crying.  It was
uncomfortable even though I knew she was being as gentle as possible. 

“Is
everything all right?” I gasped, as tears welled up behind my eyes.

“Everything
is well, my dear,” she said, smiling.  “A perfectly healthy cervix and the
blood seeping through as it should.”  Mrs Holland put the instrument on top of
the cloth lying in the tray and then fetched some fresh rags to put between my
legs.  She helped me sit on the side of the bed.  “All done, my dear.  My lady
will have no worries about you.”  She removed the sodden sheet from the bed and
collected the tray.  “Now you get dressed and come down for a cup of tea.”  She
was gone in an instant taking the sheet and tray with her.

It
was only as I was buttoning my dress that I realised that Mrs Holland would now
know that I wasn’t a virgin.  She must have discovered that fact during the
examination.  I bit my lip.  Would that make a difference?  But then surely the
gentleman and lady wouldn’t expect a virgin to agree to do something like
this?  A maiden would never risk her reputation or her chances of marrying by
selling her virginity too.  I felt reassured with that argument, but it was
only as I went downstairs, that I realised that Mrs Holland might also know
that I had given birth.

We
had our tea in the parlour and no more was said about the examination.  If Mrs
Holland knew anything then she wasn’t going to make any comment to me.  It
might be a different story with her ‘employers’, she might be obliged to tell
them everything she knew.  As I listened to her happy chatter, I smiled over my
teacup.  Mrs Holland was a lovely lady and I suddenly knew that everything was
all right.  Her instructions were that she must verify that I wasn’t pregnant
and she had done that.  It seemed that that was all she needed to know.

“Are
you still in pain?” asked Mrs Holland, placing her cup down on the table.

I
nodded.  “I feel a little sick.”

“You
did very well.  Such a brave girl.”  She rose to her feet.  “I’ll go and get
you something for the pain.  Once that’s gone, the sickness will disappear
too.”  I tried to tell her not to trouble herself, but she was bustling through
the door before I could open my mouth.  She returned five minutes later with a
glass filled with a small amount of amber liquid.  She offered it to me and I
took it and peered into the dark contents.  “It’s a measure of brandy with a
few drops of distilled mandrake root.  It will help you.”

I
tasted it and then drank it all.  It felt warm as it went down and the feeling
in my stomach was very pleasurable.  “Thank you,” I murmured.  I put the glass
on the occasional table with the tea things.  “What happens now?”

Mrs
Holland sat back in the large armchair and smiled.  “You meet the gentleman.”

My
heart began to speed up making me breathe rapidly.  “When?”

She
stood and walked across to a small bureau and returned with a black book. 
“You’ll be taking luncheon with him…let me see.”  She flicked through the pages
of what was obviously a diary before resuming her seat.  “We’ll say in four
days’ time on the twenty-second.  You should be through all this messy business
by then.”

I
swallowed hard.  “Luncheon?”

“Here,
in my home.  The meal will be served at twelve-thirty so I suggest you arrive
at twelve-fifteen.” 

“Then
what?”

She
snapped the book shut.  “Nothing, my dear.  You’ll simply have luncheon with
him and get to know each other.”

“Is
that how the gentleman wants it?”

“He
does.”

“But
when will…?”  The question drifted unfinished into the air.

Mrs
Holland smiled.  “You’ll meet again two days later and we hope the arrangements
we’ve made will not disrupt your routine too much.”  She gave a gentle
chuckle.  “After all, you have your music lessons and your own commitments. 
So, you will take luncheon with him and then the afternoon will be spent
together, but the gentleman must leave at four-thirty in order to get ready for
his evening engagements.”

“He
isn’t staying here?”

She
shook her head.  “No, he’s not.  But as from this moment, my dear, you are
under my care.”  She looked at me through serious eyes.  “You must put yourself
in my hands and obey my instructions.”

“I
will of course,” I answered.  I looked down at the teacups.  “And so, that will
be it.”

Again,
Mrs Holland gave a chuckle that came from deep down within her.  “No, my dear
girl, you will return every three days and the procedure will be repeated.  And
that will continue until a few days before your next monthly bleeding is due.”

My
eyes widened in horror.  “I’ll be seeing him all that time?”

She
nodded.  “I’m afraid it has to be so.  We have no idea when a woman conceives. 
Wouldn’t it be wonderful, if we did?  Just think of all those poor mothers worn
down with constant pregnancies. If we had such knowledge, then they could avoid
that time of the month and perhaps plan the number of children they have.”  She
sighed sadly.  “But alas, that mystery is unknown to us.”

CHAPTER
SIX

T
he
twenty-second of September started like any other.  I awoke with Danny sitting
up in his cot, calling me.  I rolled out of bed and went to open the curtains,
letting in the shimmering sheen of the moon.  The room filled with silver
shadows and I could see Danny’s outline as he held out his arms for me.  I
lifted him out of his cot and jumped back into bed.  It was only five o’clock
and I had always hoped that the darker mornings would help him sleep a little
longer, but it seemed that he was like his father and liked to be up and about
as soon as he was awake.  I snuggled him down next to me and began to sing the
lullaby that he loved so much.  He sang along with me and I smiled as he
watched my mouth and tried to imitate the movements.

Today
was the day I would take luncheon with Mrs Holland’s gentleman and I wondered
how it would all turn out.  He had had a good look at me during the interview,
but I had no idea what he looked like.  If I had walked past him in the street,
I wouldn’t have known him.  That very notion had caused me to scrutinise every
gentleman that raised his hat in polite greeting, imagining if that was he. 
But today I would finally meet him.

I
managed to keep Danny in bed until the sun’s soft glow warmed the room and then
I heard Nan getting up.  She was always up first to make the fire in the range
ready for boiling water and then she would prepare breakfast. 

“Are
you awake, Isabelle?” she called across the landing.  “I suppose you are.  Do
you still want a bath this morning?”

“Yes
please,” I shouted back.

Although
I washed every day, I enjoyed the luxury of a bath once a week.  Nan liked hers
on a Sunday, but I never had a routine with mine.  I took it when it was
convenient and that morning I had decided that immersing myself in hot water
would help me relax.

“I’ll
heat up the water, then,” said Nan.  The stairs creaked under her feet.

She
liked a good thirty minutes alone in the kitchen while she did her chores.  It
was a routine she had established when she had lived with her friend and when I
moved in I could see no reason for changing it.  I dressed Danny and then
slipping on my dressing gown, I carried him downstairs.  We sat together and
ate our breakfast of porridge, slices of toast and a cup of tea.  Nan put the
honey pot on the table and I poured a little over my porridge.  We couldn’t
always afford honey and it made me sigh how I would eat it without thinking
when I lived in Cwmdare.  Now we had to count the pennies.

Nan
had placed the galvanised bath beside the range and I filled the large tub with
hot water.

“Would
you like some oil of violets in that?” she said.  I nodded and she brought a
small bottle from the cupboard and put in a few drops.  “That should make you
smell nice,” she grinned and I looked at her in alarm.  Did she know that I
wanted to be fragrant that day of all days?  I shuddered at what she would say
if she only knew.

I
took off my dressing gown and nightdress and then stepped into the bath,
lowering myself into the water.

“How
are you getting on with Stephanie’s wedding dress?” I asked, as I splashed the
water to make Danny giggle from his highchair.

“It’s
coming along really well,” she said, ladling a spoonful of porridge into my
child’s open mouth.  “But I’m not showing anyone until the bride has given her
full approval.”

We
had already received the invitation, the date set for the sixth of November. 
Would I be pregnant then?  I stopped sponging my neck and thought of the next
few weeks ahead of me.  Then I tried to dismiss it from my mind.  I wouldn’t
think about it, I decided, I would do what I had to do and think only of going
to the academy.  I reached for the towel and placing it round me, stepped out
of the bath.  Lifting Danny from his chair, I undressed him and put him in the
water.  He squealed with delight and splashed around.

“He’s
a proper little mermaid, isn’t he,” I said, smiling, as I quickly dried myself
and pulled on my dressing gown.

“You
mean merman,” said Nan.  She pushed me out of the kitchen.  “You go and get
dressed and I’ll see to my nephew.”

I
picked up my nightgown and headed for the door, but paused to watch her
kneeling by the tub and trickling water over him from the sponge.  His giggles
followed me up the stairs.

In my
room I peeped through the curtains.  It was going to be one of those sparkling
days that often come at the end of summer and the beginning of autumn.  The
trees were starting to turn that glorious shade of brown, gold and orange and
very soon the leaves would flutter down covering the ground with a carpet that
would crunch under my boots.  I opened the wardrobe and took out my tangerine
dress trimmed with white buttons.  It had long sleeves, buttoned at the cuff
and I thought it quite a suitable gown to take luncheon in.  I brushed my hair
and pinned it in a neat bun on the nape of my neck.

By
eight-thirty I was ready and downstairs in the hallway, pinning on my hat and
slipping my brown pelisse over my shoulders.  Soon I was kissing Nan and Danny
goodbye and then it was out of the house and to my first lesson.  There was a
chill in the air and I shivered.

Over
the last four days I had come to admire Mrs Holland’s attention to detail
regarding my ‘agreed duties’.  It seemed that everything had been considered,
even my commitments had not been forgotten.  I had written the timetable for
the next few weeks in my diary, in cryptic form just in case Nan chanced to
take a look.  I realised that I would have to change some appointments but
otherwise there was no great problem with my routine.  The time would pass and
then I could resume my usual pattern of working.  I made my way to Melissa
Fleming’s home and after being shown into the parlour by the maid, I waited for
my pupil while I lay out the sheet music ready for the lesson.

The
lesson was as I expected.  Melissa had a high-pitched voice that grated on my
nerves, but I gave her some scales to sing and then she flung herself into the
ballad
Did You Not Hear My Lady
with enthusiasm.  Melissa always tried
her best, something I was eternally grateful for.  It was such a shame that her
best just wasn’t good enough.

From
there, I went to Francis Pelham’s home.  Francis was a newly acquired pupil
from my recent advertisement in
The Times
and had a great deal of
potential as an opera singer.  Although his voice was starting to break, I
hoped he would make a wonderful tenor when he was older, if his parents agreed
to continue his lessons.  He proved to be a joy as he had diligently practised
everything I had told him to.  The ornamental clock sitting on the mantelpiece
told me that I must leave immediately if I was to get to Ealing for
twelve-fifteen.

“What
do you think of the songs of Gilbert and Sullivan, Mrs Asquith?”

The
works of W S Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan had taken London by storm, but as a
potential opera singer, I had brushed off their work as ‘trivial’.

“You
need to concentrate on the classics, Francis,” I said.

“I
think
The Mikado
is wonderful and I’ve been practising one of the
songs.  May I sing it for you?  I’d really like to know what you think.”

I
frowned as I shuffled the sheets of music into a tidy pile and placed them in
the pouch.  “I really must go.  I have an appointment at twelve-fifteen.”

“But
that gives you lots of time,” he insisted.

I
smiled at how the young have a different perception of time than adults.  I sat
back down on the piano stool.  “Very well.  Let me hear you.”  He stood up
straight and began to sing
A Wandering Minstrel I
, while I listened
carefully and smiled.  He was enjoying himself and loved singing every note. 
At the end I clapped my hands in delight.  “Francis, that was wonderful!  I
think I’ll have to listen to more of your songs next time I come.”

“I’ll
practise another one for my next lesson,” he said eagerly.

I
left the house in a hurry and was soon on top of the omnibus bound for Ealing. 
As I travelled, I slipped off my wedding ring and put it in a small velvet bag
I had made from some leftover material that Nan had.  I then placed it
carefully in my music pouch.  I had ceased being Mrs Isabelle Asquith and was
now Miss Isabelle Pritchard.  My heart started beating wildly the nearer I came
to my destination.

The
little maid showed me in and Mrs Holland met me in the hallway.

“I
hope I’m not too late,” I said breathlessly.  “My last pupil insisted on giving
me a recital.”

“No,
my dear.  You’re just in time,” she smiled, taking my pelisse and hat and
placing the leather pouch on the small table by the hat stand.  “Would you like
to go into the parlour.  Luncheon is nearly ready.”

I
opened the door, my mind on when the gentleman would arrive.  He would probably
leave it until the last possible moment, I thought.  But as I entered the room,
I stopped abruptly.  Standing by the cabinet, that obviously contained
alcoholic drinks, was a man, his back to me.  He was pouring himself a drink
and as I stood there waiting, he slowly turned to face me.

My
first impression was that he was smartly dressed in well-cut, good quality
clothes.  Tall with light brown hair, I realised that he was much younger than
I imagined.  He must have been in his thirties and that surprised me.  Why I
thought he would be older I couldn’t understand, since his voice had been that
of a young man.  I suppose I had assumed that only an older couple would devise
such a plan.

He
gave a slight bow and crossed the room towards me.  “Miss Pritchard, we meet at
last,” he said, taking my hand and kissing my fingers.

I
inclined my head and tried to smile.  “I’m pleased to meet you, although you
have the advantage of me regarding names.”

He
also smiled and it was pleasant to see.  I saw that his eyes were almost
turquoise in colour and quite outstanding especially when he did smile, since
then they seemed to light up.

“I
was thinking about that and I wondered if I could call you Isabelle?  It seems
so formal to call you Miss Pritchard.  And you may call me Karl if you wish.”

“Karl? 
Is that your name?”

He
shook his head.  “No, but at least it’s a name.”

“Then
I shall call you Karl,” I murmured.

“Would
you like a drink?” he asked, gesturing towards the cabinet.

“A
sherry would be nice.”  He poured one and passed it to me.  I sipped a bit and
then said,  “Have you travelled far?”  He didn’t answer.  “Oh dear, I suppose I
can’t ask you questions like that.”

“I’m
afraid not.”

“And
yet you know such a lot about me.”

He
held his glass of brandy against the front of his waistcoat and studied me.  “I
know you are twenty years old.  You were born in Wales and you lost your mother
when you were fourteen.  Your father was a mine owner and was killed in a
tragic accident.  I know you teach music for a living, but…”

“But?”

“I
know nothing else about you.”

“You
know enough.”

“Those
are only the bare facts.  I don’t know the important things.  What you like or
dislike.  What interests you have.  What your dreams and desires are.  I don’t
know what makes Isabelle Pritchard the person she is.”

“Would
you like to know?”

“Yes,
I would.”

“Why?”

“Because
I feel it’s important to know as much as I can about the mother of my child.” 
I turned my head away, aware that a scarlet flush had spread into my cheeks. 
“Does that embarrass you?  I’m sorry.  I don’t want to make you feel
uncomfortable.”

I
glanced back at him and took in a breath, trying to steady my palpitating
heart.  “Well, you have the time to discover all you can about me.”

Mrs
Holland appeared to tell us that luncheon was being served.

“Shall
we go into the dining room,” he said, offering his arm.  “Perhaps after we’ve
eaten you’ll sing for me.”

I
threw back my head and laughed.  “Not in a million years.”

The
meal was very pleasant, sitting in Mrs Holland’s beige dining room and ‘Karl’
proved to be quite interesting.  We talked about everything, but tried to keep
away from anything personal.  Politics, religion and science were discussed,
but then we came to the arts.

“Do
you like the theatre?” he asked, as he poured me another glass of wine.

“Yes,”
I said slowly.  “Although I don’t go often.”

“I
went to the Lyceum last week to see Ibsen’s
A Doll’s House
.  It was very
good.”

“I
saw the
Merchant of Venice
last year.”

“You
enjoy Shakespeare?”

“Yes,
but
Macbeth
is my favourite.  It’s full of dark desires, ghastly deeds
and madness.”

He
laughed softly.  “You obviously have many admirers to accompany you to the
theatre.”