by Iris Gower
‘I know you must hate me,’ Lily said. ‘I don’t blame you, I nearly got you killed. I realize now that Mr Mainwaring is a good man, the medicines he gave your father and old Mr Marks were only to do them good.’
Llinos opened her eyes. ‘I don’t want to talk about the past, if you don’t mind.’ She could not keep the note of anger from her voice. Lily went so pale that her eyelids looked blue and Llinos felt sorry for her. But once they were back in town, Lily was on her own.
It was silent except for the creaking of the carriage. The serving woman struggled to speak; she was slumped against the leather, scarcely able to open her swollen eyes.
‘Don’t be angry, Mrs,’ she said. ‘Lily’s gone through the mill and she’s a changed girl. Whatever she done, she’s paid for it over and over.’
Lily remained quiet though tears rolled down her cheeks and her jaw quivered. She was a foolish, misguided girl and perhaps she had learnt her lesson, though Llinos doubted it.
‘Try to rest, now,’ she said. ‘We will be back in Swansea before nightfall.’
Llinos pretended to sleep; she had no desire to talk and certainly not to Lily. She was sunk in her own misery thinking about Joe, alone in Cornwall. She wondered if he would ever come back to her or was their marriage over?
At last the smoke from the Swansea works drifted towards the carriage, bringing with it a sulphurous, unpleasant smell. Llinos opened her eyes warily.
‘We’re home,’ Lily said quietly. She put her hands together and closed her eyes. ‘Thank you God for bringing me back safely,’ she whispered.
Llinos leaned out of the window. ‘Kenneth,’ she called, ‘stop near Vaughan’s lodging house and we’ll drop them off there.’
‘I haven’t got any money, Mrs Mainwaring,’ Lily said in panic. ‘I can’t stop there, not without a few sovereigns to pay the bill.’
Llinos opened her bag and took out some coins. ‘I’ve brought you this far, Lily, but I don’t want to see you again, do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Lily said meekly. ‘And thank you. Come on, Betty, we can rest in comfort tonight.’
It was good to be home but as Llinos stepped into the hallway of Pottery House she knew that there would be questions asked, questions she was far too tired to answer.
The scents of the house, familiar smells of beeswax and flowers and from outside the ever present smell of baking clay made her happy and sad at the same time. She was home but she was alone. Was she going to be alone for the rest of her life?
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was lonely at Pottery House without Joe. Since Llinos had walked out on him, she had not heard a word from him. She was frightened and yet she felt she must put a brave face on things for Charlotte and of course for Lloyd.
Eynon was a different kettle of fish; she wanted to tell him the truth, to ask his advice. They were sitting together in the drawing room of Pottery House and Llinos stared at him, wondering how to broach the subject.
‘How’s Jayne?’ she asked lightly.
‘I’ve told you once she’s fine, my new business is fine as well. I enjoy bringing china clay from Dorset back to Swansea, it keeps me out of mischief.’
‘And Martin?’
‘Martin is well and happy, fatter than ever. Now cut all this chatter and get to the point.’ He sat back, a knowing look on his face. ‘You are breaking your heart over Joe, aren’t you, and too proud to do anything about it.’
Llinos took a deep breath and then the words poured from her lips like a flood. ‘I don’t know where he is. I walked out on him, Eynon. We had a row; he told me I was a bad wife. He’s changed, Eynon, I don’t think he’s the same Joe I married. Where can he be staying? He’s not at the hotel in Cornwall. Oh, I don’t know anything any more!’
‘Have you asked his sister where he is? Surely Charlotte must have heard from him?’ Eynon said quietly.
‘I think if Charlotte knew she would have told me by now.’ Llinos looked miserably at the trees outside the window without seeing them. ‘Charlotte is as worried as I am.’
‘I’m sure he’s as right as rain but I’ll make some enquiries, if you like?’
‘No!’ she paused. ‘Joe will come home when he’s ready, if ever he is ready. It might be he’s had enough of me. That was our first quarrel, it might well be our last.’ She felt tears against her lids and tried to blink them away.
‘I don’t think Joe is the type of man to allow one disagreement to spoil the wonderful relationship he has with you.’
Llinos smiled. ‘You are biased. Ask yourself, is his life so wonderful?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Eynon said evenly. ‘He has his son, he has his own successful business to run and he has you. Joe has nothing to complain of, believe me.’
‘He demands more of his wife’s time and attention, it seems.’
‘Is that what he said?’ Eynon asked.
‘That’s what it comes to.’ Llinos continued to stare at the trees as if they could give her answers to her questions. Joe was not content with their life as it was, he had made that quite clear. Now, sitting here in the sunlit room, Llinos could not believe that they had been so angry with each other. Surely, if she had been more understanding, had listened to him instead of being on the defensive, they could have worked it out? But she had indulged in her feelings of hurt pride and walked out on him. She had not even stopped to consider if Joe had a point.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’m foolish pouring out my troubles to you. I don’t know what I expect you to do about the mess I’ve got myself into.’
‘I can support you and listen to you and perhaps even advise you,’ Eynon said softly. ‘Why not let Joe have his freedom for a while? He is trying to work something out in his head, if I know Joe. He is better off alone right now, you know, like a bear retreating into a cave? He has a different way of life from us, Llinos, just let him be, he’ll come back to you all safe and sound again, you’ll see.’
‘Maybe,’ Llinos said. ‘Anyway, tell me about your exciting business venture, it sounds fascinating.’ She forced a cheerful note into her voice. ‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to shake off your links with the pottery altogether.’
‘Miss Clever Shoes!’ Eynon said. ‘All right, if you don’t want to listen to my advice about Joe, then I’ll humour you and change the subject.’ His face was bright now, eager. ‘I’ve bought three ships, good sound sailing ships, and I’ve hired experienced captains and crew.’ He sat forward in his chair and Llinos realized that Eynon had needed a purpose; the life of the idle rich had never suited him.
‘If I bring the clay up from Poole I will be making a good profit on it. I have plans for opening a new pottery myself, not a very big one and not yet a while but the idea is there buzzing around my head.’
‘It sounds a wonderful idea.’ Llinos was pleased for Eynon; it was about time he found a new interest instead of running around with married women.
‘Jayne will be a very rich young woman one day if my plans work out,’ Eynon said in satisfaction.
Llinos shook her head. ‘She’s not exactly poverty stricken now, is she? You are far richer than I am, Eynon. My pottery almost ran itself into bankruptcy once, remember? I’m very lucky to have survived those hard times.’
‘Not lucky,’ Eynon said softly, ‘you are courageous, enterprising and damned hardworking. Those things have nothing to do with luck, Llinos.’
‘You may be right.’ She raised her eyebrows as Eynon put his head on one side.
‘What?’
‘I’ve at least stopped you looking at those damned trees, that’s what!’ He smiled at her. His teeth were fine and even and his hair was almost golden. He was a good-looking man and he loved her. How simple life would have been if she could have loved him in return.
The clock in the hall chimed the hour and Eynon stood up.
‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I’m meeting my secret mistress in a little over an hour and I’ve got to get ready.�
�
Llinos frowned. ‘I wish you would be careful, Eynon. I don’t like that man Sparks. I think he would be really vindictive if he caught you with his wife.’
‘Then I shall have to make sure he doesn’t catch me,’ Eynon said lightly. He kissed her cheek and, on an impulse, she put her arms around him.
‘You know how much I care about you, Eynon. Is this Mrs Sparks worth the risks you’re taking?’
‘I’m still a young man, Llinos,’ he said quietly. ‘I need a woman and as I can’t have the one I love, I have to make do with one who is available.’
Llinos was still in Eynon’s arms when the door opened and her son came into the room. He looked at Eynon disapprovingly.
‘You shouldn’t kiss my mamma,’ he said accusingly, ‘my father wouldn’t like it.’ He sat on the chair Eynon had just vacated, a mutinous expression on his face.
‘But, Lloyd bach, Eynon and I are old friends, a kiss between us is just a sign of affection.’
‘You don’t love Father any more,’ Lloyd said. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t have come home without him.’
‘That’s silly!’ Llinos’s tone was sharp. ‘And it’s rude of you to interrupt. Now go to your room and stay there until you learn some manners.’
On his way out, Lloyd aimed a sly kick in the direction of Eynon’s polished boots then slammed the door behind him.
‘He’s upset,’ Eynon said. ‘He’s missing his father, he doesn’t mean to be rude, he’s just a child.’
‘I know,’ Llinos sighed heavily. ‘Everything seems so black and white when you’re so young, doesn’t it? Go on home, you’ve heard enough of my moaning for one day.’
She watched from the doorway of Pottery House as Eynon walked away along the row. He was a rich man, he could have ridden the several miles from his home on any one of a stable of horses. He could have ridden in the fine carriage with the Morton-Edwards crest emblazoned on the doors but Eynon loved to walk.
In his youth he had been something of a weakling; he had been bullied and once even beaten half to death. Now as a man, he was determined to keep himself in good shape, facing the world with his head high. He was a good friend and perhaps she should take his advice. He had told her to let Joe be, allow him to find his own way through his problems.
She sighed heavily. She had better leave Joe alone; he would come when he was ready. But why did he blame her for the rift that had opened between them? She had done nothing wrong, she had only cared for her family and for her business, surely she did not have to apologize for that?
Joe went away on business trips and she made no complaint about his long absences. Joe was his own man, he had money from his father’s estate and need never work again but he could not be content with sitting around idling his life away in coffee houses and public inns. She respected Joe for that, why could he not respect her wish to work?
She shook off her feeling of gloom and went upstairs to Lloyd’s room. Her son was sitting on the bed, swinging his legs, his feet connecting with the legs of his bedside table. ‘Lloyd, please don’t be such a crosspatch.’ She sat on the bed beside him. ‘I miss Daddy, too, but he’ll come home when he’s good and ready.’ She smoothed back Lloyd’s hair. ‘You know he goes away on business quite a lot, you’ve never complained before.’
Lloyd looked at her. ‘You’ve sent him away!’ he said. ‘You don’t love my daddy any more.’
‘That’s not true, love.’ She drew him into her arms. ‘Look, your father and I had words. Everyone gets cross sometimes. I know I shouldn’t have come home without Daddy but grown ups are silly sometimes, just like children.’
‘I’m not silly,’ Lloyd said. He was so serious, so unlike his amiable self that Llinos held him away from her.
‘Lloyd, are you sick?’ He was paler than usual, his eyes smudged with shadows. She had been so wrapped up in her own unhappiness that she had not taken enough notice of her son. Was this the sort of behaviour Joe had been complaining about?
She put her hand on Lloyd’s forehead; it was hot and dry to touch. Could he be coming down with a fever? she wondered. It had not been long ago that whooping cough had swept through the town, the wet months of autumn turning into the cold of winter with little effect on the illness. Now, even with the coming of spring, there were still repercussions. Some of the children in the area had been left with a weak constitution after the epidemic.
‘Where’s Eira?’ Llinos moved to the door and called out across the landing for the governess. Eira had suffered from the whooping cough herself, so she would know if Lloyd was sickening for it.
Eira came at once. ‘What’s wrong, Mrs Mainwaring?’ she asked, her eyes going to the boy sitting on the bed. ‘Is Lloyd expecting a lesson? I thought he was finished for the day.’
‘I think he’s sickening for something,’ Llinos said. ‘Take a look at him. I think it might be safer to call a doctor, anyone so long as it’s not Dr Rogers.’ Llinos shuddered; she still had not forgotten the man’s coldness when her dear baby had died.
Eira felt Lloyd’s brow in much the same way as Llinos had done and then took some cold water from the basin on the table and patted it over the boy’s face.
‘I’d give him a drink of soothing cordial,’ she said. ‘See how he is in the morning.’ She shrugged. ‘With children, a hot brow and a sickly feeling can be gone in a matter of hours.’
‘You don’t think it’s the whooping cough?’ Llinos asked. Eira smiled, shaking her head.
‘If Lloyd had the whooping cough he’d be barking his head off by now. Don’t worry, Mrs Mainwaring, you’ll see, he’ll be fine in the morning.’
But Lloyd was not fine. Llinos, awake early as always, looked in on her son before going down to breakfast. Lloyd was asleep but it was not a natural sleep. His breathing was ragged, his face mottled. He was a very sick child indeed.
‘Joe! Where are you?’ Her voice was full of anguish and it seemed to echo in the silence of the bedroom. Once he would have sensed her need, come to her; what had happened to the closeness between them? How could one foolish argument lead to this separation? As Llinos held Lloyd’s hand, waiting for the doctor to call, she knew it was not as simple as that. The argument had just been the culmination of Joe’s frustration. He was a deeply troubled man and she had been too selfish to notice it.
When the doctor came, he seemed young and presentable. He examined Lloyd and prescribed an hourly purge of the bowels and suggested that a warm fire be lit in the bedroom. ‘It’s just a childhood fever, dear lady,’ he said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
Llinos thanked him, her heart heavy. She knew enough from Joe’s teachings to realize what the doctor suggested would only make Lloyd worse.
When the doctor had gone, Llinos flung open the window to allow the fresh spring air into the room. She called Eira and told her to keep applying cold cloths to Lloyd’s face and body.
‘But, Mrs Mainwaring, the doctor said . . .’
‘I know what the doctor said but I don’t agree with him.’ She looked at Lloyd: his eyes were still closed and his face flushed. ‘Go back to your room, Eira,’ Llinos said. ‘I’ll stay with my son.’
The day dragged on endlessly. Llinos kept Lloyd as cool as possible, bathing his head and body. She felt anxious because he was not able to eat but, following Joe’s methods, she gave her son plenty of cool drinks.
Joe, why did her thoughts always come back to Joe? But she knew why, he was part of her, woven into the fabric of her being. She would always love him so why had she allowed a distance to grow between them? She closed her eyes and concentrated her mind towards him, begging him to come home. If there was a spark of the old Joe left in him, he would sense her need and come to her.
He did. It was evening when Llinos heard the rumble of wheels outside the house. She felt her heartbeat quicken, she knew without being told that Joe was home. She got to her feet as she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, her hand pressed against her chest. And then he wa
s there, taking her into his arms, holding her.
‘It’s Lloyd,’ she said against his chest, ‘he’s sick.’
‘I know but don’t worry, he’ll be all right.’ Joe released her and sat on the bed beside his son. He touched the boy’s face and neck and slid his lean golden hands over Lloyd’s body. At last he looked at his wife.
‘You have done a good job, our son is on the mend,’ Joe said. And all Llinos could think of was that Joe had heard her silent plea and he had come home.
CHAPTER NINE
‘Hortense, just let me speak to you, please!’ Binnie stood in the doorway of his house, staring at his wife’s set face. ‘Can’t I even explain how I loved you too much to tell you the truth? I was so scared of losing you. Can’t you even try to forgive me?’
Hortense stared back at the man she had believed in for so long, the man she’d thought of as her husband. The knot of pain and anger was still there as she thought of the way he had deceived her. How could he dismiss it so lightly? He had sired three children with her, knowing they were illegitimate; how dare he come here snivelling to be forgiven? But she would have to speak to him; there were matters to be resolved between them.
‘Come in,’ she said but there was no welcome in her voice. He followed her into the shade of the house, nodding to the maid, looking around him as though he wanted to drink in everything that he had lost because of his lies. Hortense would have waited for him; if only he had told her the truth, they could have found a solution. Now, all she could do was to try to minimize the damage to her children.
‘So far,’ she said coldly, ‘Daddy doesn’t know what’s going on here, all he knows is that we have had what he calls “a spat”!’ She frowned. ‘Some spat, Binnie,’ she said. ‘Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve ruined my life.’
‘Hortense, please, honey . . .’
‘Shut up!’ she said harshly. She closed the door. ‘Now listen to me, we are going up country, we are going to see a preacher and we’re going to be wed, properly.’ She held up her hand as he made a move towards her. ‘No! I don’t want you near me, Binnie, do you understand?’ She paused for breath, fighting back her tears.