by Iris Gower
He looked down at his feet and shook his head. ‘Perhaps being a man he’ll talk to me, tell me what is going on.’
‘I doubt it.’ Llinos pushed back her hair.
‘Well,’ Watt persisted, ‘I could tell him about the problem with the bank, he should be the one sorting it out not me.’
‘No,’ Llinos said. ‘I don’t want to bring Joe back because he feels sorry for me.’ Her words were brave but did she mean them? Sometimes she felt she would have him back on any terms.
‘Don’t worry about me.’ She made an effort to smile. ‘I’ll go to the bank myself. You know I can handle my own affairs. I did just that when my father was away, didn’t I?’
‘I suppose so.’ Watt sounded doubtful. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment as though reluctant to leave her. ‘Look, don’t worry about the bank, I’ll go to town in the morning, see what is going on, shall I?’
She nodded. ‘All right then. It might be for the best, I don’t think I could keep my temper with Mr Sparks if I went myself.’
‘I’ll get off home now.’ Watt still hesitated. ‘If you are sure there’s nothing else.’
‘Go!’ Llinos said. ‘Go before I throw something at you!’ She sank back in her chair and closed her eyes. The distant sounds from the kitchen were somehow comforting; it was good to know she was not completely alone. Upstairs, Lloyd would be preparing for bed with Eira fussing over him like a mother hen. Later, when she had rested, Llinos would go up and tuck him in for the night.
She heard the sound of the front-door bell then the maid’s voice, high-pitched with surprise. The door to the drawing room was flung open and suddenly Joe was standing there, his hair flowing to his shoulders, his blue eyes looking into hers.
Her heart leapt with hope; had he come home to her? Her mouth was suddenly dry. His first words sent her spirits plummeting.
‘Why did you come to the house and upset Sho Ka?’ He spoke in clipped tones. ‘You could see she’s in a delicate condition, she’s just not up to facing a confrontation with you right now.’
Llinos looked at him in astonishment and then a fierce anger blazed through her with the heat of a forest fire. She had found Joe’s mistress big with child and he had the gall to talk as if Llinos was at fault.
‘I didn’t upset her!’ Why, she wondered, was she bothering to defend herself. She faced him, her cheeks flushed, her hands clenched into fists. They stood close together, so close she could smell the familiar scent of him, could see the flecks of blue in his eyes. She wanted him so badly that it was like a knife turning inside her.
‘How dare you come to me like this!’ She was angry with herself and even more angry with Joe. ‘How dare you rebuke me for upsetting your mistress! Have you no shame left, Joe?’
‘My mistress, is that how you see her?’ Joe asked.
‘That’s what she is.’ A flicker of hope lit within her; was Joe going to deny that Sho Ka meant anything to him? Was there some good explanation for the way he had been acting?
‘Her husband died,’ he said flatly. ‘She was a widow and I felt responsible for her.’ He paused. ‘We were betrothed to each other long before I met you.’ He shrugged. ‘So I brought her back with me to where I could take care of her.’
‘So the baby she is carrying is her husband’s not yours?’ Llinos was shaking with hope now, waiting for Joe to speak, to tell her she was being foolish.
‘I didn’t say that.’ He made a move towards her but Llinos warded him off. ‘Don’t touch me, Joe!’
‘Look,’ he said, ‘you don’t appreciate the Mandan ways, I have responsibilities, I feel obliged to look after Sho Ka, don’t you understand that?’
Llinos took a deep breath, she needed time to compose herself. ‘What I do understand,’ she said coldly, ‘is that you have made that woman more important than your wife. You have spent time with her when you should have been with me and with our child.’
‘We must talk about Lloyd,’ he said, ‘we have a great many things to discuss, you can’t just shut me out of your life.’
She was cold now. ‘That is exactly what you have done to me, shut me out of your life. Well if you think you can enjoy your mistress and then come home to Lloyd and me whenever you feel like it you are very much mistaken. We have nothing to say to each other so please leave, this is still my house, remember?’
The door opened and Charlotte peered into the room, her eyes wide. ‘Joe! I thought I heard your voice. Please, you two, don’t quarrel.’ She spoke quietly. ‘If Lloyd hears you he will be so upset.’
‘It’s all right, Charlotte, I’m just leaving.’
Llinos wanted to beg him to stay but the words stuck in her throat. It was too late to heal the rift between them, Joe had taken another woman and there was no trust left between them any more.
‘Go then!’ she said. ‘And don’t come back, do you hear me?’
‘I hear you, Llinos.’ He walked out of the room without looking back and Llinos felt Charlotte’s arms around her.
‘There there, don’t cry, he’ll come home when he’s good and ready.’
But the house in Pottery Row was no longer Joe’s home, he had made that quite clear.
‘Come on, Charlotte,’ Llinos swallowed hard. ‘We might just as well go to bed, there’s nothing to wait up for any more.’
As she followed Charlotte up the stairs, Llinos closed her mind to Joe’s harsh words. She had sent him away, at least she had kept her pride. But when she closed the bedroom door she knew that pride was a shallow, empty thing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
‘So you’re settling in all right then?’ Polly was moving around the small sitting room picking up china ornaments, touching the curtain material to test it for quality, almost as if she was making an inventory of the possessions Lily had acquired.
Lily watched her, feeling rather smug about the whole situation. ‘I’m settling in just fine,’ she said. ‘Matthew is not very demanding, he’s more interested in his creature comforts than anything else.’
‘What do you mean?’ Polly looked at her wide-eyed. ‘He likes his bed, is that it?’
‘In a way.’ Lily smiled inscrutably, she knew Polly would be infuriated. She waited for Polly to sit down and give the matter her full attention.
‘Go on, you tease! Tell me.’ Polly settled herself in the armchair and kicked off her shoes, preparing for a good gossip.
‘Well, he likes me to massage him all over with oil.’
‘All over?’ Polly giggled suggestively.
‘That’s right,’ Lily said. ‘Then he usually falls asleep.’ She laughed at the disappointment on Polly’s face. ‘After he’s made love to me of course.’
‘You devil!’ Polly sat forward, her thin shoulders hunched. ‘And what’s he like, you know?’
‘He’s kind and considerate,’ Lily said. ‘And he’s quick. That’s what I like about him. Afterwards he always gives me gifts as though he’s grateful to me.’
‘Well he is,’ Polly said reasonably. ‘A young girl like you in his bed instead of his dried-up old wife, of course he’s grateful.’ She leaned back in her chair. ‘And it doesn’t do his reputation as a ram any harm, does it?’
‘What do you mean?’ Lily asked. Polly could be so worldly-wise that it put her at a disadvantage.
‘Well he probably brags about you down at his club.’ She laughed. ‘I can see it now, him and my Jem talking about the young girls they bed who cry with passion for them and all that sort of nonsense. Men get almost as much of a thrill out of talking about their love lives as they do living them.’
Lily thought it over. Polly was probably right. Somehow the idea of being gossiped about made her feel uneasy. And yet, what did it matter? No-one at the club knew her anyway.
She smoothed down the silky skirt of her gown; the cloth felt fine and rich to her touch. She really owed Polly a debt of gratitude for finding her a man like Matthew Starky who was gentle and did not snatch at her as though
she were a piece of fruit on a plate. He thought of her most kindly and she had learned to pretend to be happy in his arms, to love him. In a way she did love him but more like a father than a lover.
‘I’m glad you brought us together, Matthew and me,’ she said and Polly smiled.
‘I knew you’d suit each other.’ She paused. ‘Do you like it now, you know the bed thing, lying with a man? Do you like it a bit better now you’re with Matthew?’
‘Yes, I think I do.’ Lily felt she could answer that honestly. She would never be filled with passion the way Polly was but she was content with her life. Matthew was so generous, so thoughtful.
‘Matthew’s been so good to me about my work,’ she said. ‘Come upstairs and see what he’s bought me.’ She enjoyed the way Polly’s eyes opened wide in expectation. Polly could barely contain her excitement as she hurried behind Lily, her hand sliding along the polished banister.
‘Don’t tell me you’re expectin’?’ she gasped, the acquired cultured tones deserting her. ‘You’re not fitting out a nursery, are you? Speak to me, I can hardly wait for an answer!’
The suggestion made Lily shudder, she was not with child and she prayed every night that she would remain that way. She had never fallen pregnant with any of the men she had been with; perhaps she was barren. She certainly hoped so because the thought of a baby mewling and crying in her arms, clinging to her breast, made her feel queasy.
‘Don’t be daft!’ she said flatly. ‘What would I want with a baby? I’m not the maternal kind, am I? Anyway, what about you?’
Polly shook her head. ‘I think my Jem’s too old for that but Matthew is a different kettle of fish, he’s a good bit younger than Jem. If you did catch he might marry you, have you thought about that?’
She smiled slyly. ‘You got to look out for yourself, Lily, I’m always trying to tell you that. Another thing his old wife won’t last long and if you ‘ad his kid Matthew might want to make an honest woman of you.’
‘Never mind all that. Just see what I’ve got.’ Lily pushed open the door to one of the upstairs rooms and flung it wide with a flourish. Her eyes alighted on the large wooden easel standing near the window. On it was pinned a sheet of paper covered with various designs.
‘Is this what you got so excited about?’ Polly’s disappointment was evident. ‘I thought you had some big secret, something juicy to tell me.’
‘Trust you!’ Lily shook her head. ‘The thing is, Polly, I won’t be bored out of my mind when Matthew is not with me. He wants me to be happy and I can be happy doing some painting work.’
On an impulse, she pushed Polly into a chair. ‘Just sit there and keep your mouth still for a minute, I’m going to draw you.’
She pinned a fresh sheet of paper to the board and stared for a long moment at her friend. Polly was looking flushed, flattered that she was being given such close scrutiny.
Lily began to cover the paper in swift strokes. Portraits were not something Lily was used to drawing; her skills had been limited to patterns for china decoration. Still, she became absorbed, shading areas darkly and leaving others, like Polly’s cheekbones, untouched to form highlights. It was only when Polly began to wriggle that she realized that the light was fading.
‘Have you finished, love? I’m dying to pee!’ Polly stood up and came round the easel to study her portrait. ‘Bloody ’ell!’ she said. ‘It’s good, mind, but look at the big nose you’ve given me! It’s like them things in the papers, those pictures that make folks’ worst features – well, worse!’
Lily knew exactly what Polly meant; her drawing was more of a caricature than a portrait. Still, it had style and movement and, with a bit of practice, she would probably improve.
‘Hey, Lil, why don’t you send it to one of the papers? Go on, I dare you.’
‘No-one would want it,’ Lily said uncertainly. ‘It’s not all that good, see I could have done a bit more to your hair and . . .’
‘Give it to me, then,’ Polly said. ‘It will amuse my Jem if nothing else. But you must sign it first.’ She nudged Lily. ‘Please, I never ask you for anything do I?’
She never did and Lily owed her so much. Resolutely, she took down the picture, wrote ‘Lily’ in a scrawling hand and gave it to her friend. ‘Roll it carefully so that it doesn’t smudge,’ she instructed and Polly smiled impishly.
‘I won’t harm one bit of it because my Jem will send it to the paper for us, you see if he don’t.’ She sighed in anticipation. ‘Mrs Jeremy Boucher, wife of important figure in the town as drawn by her friend and companion Miss Lily . . . what is your other name, Lily?’
‘I never had one, not a proper name, not until I married Tom Wesley. I never had a father, you know that, Polly.’ There was still a bitterness at the thought and Lily swallowed hard. She had been born a bastard but even if it took her the rest of her life she would prove she was a person of note.
‘I don’t like Wesley, it sounds like a man’s name,’ Polly said. ‘Well, we’ll just call you Lily.’
She made for the door. ‘Look, love, I got to be going now, I told the driver to come fetch me before it got dark. Jem likes me to be there when he comes home.’ She rested her hand on Lily’s shoulder.
‘Look, love, you’ve fallen in lucky with Matt, don’t throw all that away by being too coy with him.’
‘He likes me as I am,’ Lily said stubbornly. And that was his strength, she realized that now. Matthew did not ask her to be different, to change. He liked Lily just as she was.
When she had waved Polly off and watched the gleaming carriage drive away down the street, Lily returned to the attic. She placed a mirror against the window, conscious of the fading light and attempted a self-portrait. The result was far from pleasing. It was just as Polly said; the drawing emphasized all the worst features of her face. Her nose was too sharp, her lips thin. The only comfort was the light in the eyes, the light of enthusiasm.
Lily put away her drawing materials and then washed her hands. She was more fulfilled than she had been in a long time and it was a wonderful feeling.
‘Rosie, fetch me another cushion, there’s a good girl,’ Alice said. ‘And then bring the footstool, my legs are giving me such grief.’
The girl did as she was told; she was docile, never putting up any argument. Not even by a twitch of her eyes did she show any resentment for the way she was treated. That was the way a servant should behave.
‘Who came calling last night?’ she asked. She was not really interested in her servant’s affairs but Alice was bored.
‘It was just a friend,’ Rosie said. ‘I’m sorry, madam, did it disturb you?’
‘No, it’s all right, if you’ve got a gentleman caller then good luck to you. Every woman should have a man running after her, it’s the natural order of things.’
She was not usually so magnanimous but the girl was useful, more so now that Cook had walked out in a huff. Rosie’s cooking was improving and she worked willingly. A man in her life might be just what she needed to cheer her up, give her a bit more sparkle. This man, probably some poor labourer, might prove useful as an extra, unpaid servant.
She heard the sound of the front door and gestured to Rosie. ‘Go and let the master in, there’s a good girl.’ Rosie curtsied and left the room. Shortly after, Edward trailed into the room and flopped into a chair.
‘I’ve managed to put everything in order at the bank,’ he said coldly. ‘Though I am not happy at the means by which you got the money. I still can’t understand why Eynon Morton-Edwards would make us a loan.’
Alice had been careful, she had thought her story out well. She claimed that Eynon knew her father, he was an old friend of the family. He also approved of her efforts to raise money for charity, thought she was deserving of help.
Alice smiled to herself; the charity idea had never served much of a purpose mainly because Alice being married to a bank manager was considered socially inferior to the gentry of the town. Still, she had traded on it w
ith Edward who had waited impatiently for funds to come rolling in. Foolish man!
Edward had become sceptical, over the months he had begun to realize that not everything his wife told him was the truth. There was no money coming in and as far as he was concerned she had made no attempt to see her father.
Ironically, she had visited Father but when she arrived at her old home it was to find he was away on a trip. It had given her a jolt to be reminded of how grand the family seat was and how luxuriously she had lived before she was married.
‘Perhaps you had better start telling me the truth, Alice,’ Edward said haughtily. ‘I am not happy, not happy at all, about the arrangements you have made.’
‘I told you!’ she said waspishly. ‘Eynon thinks the money is for charity. You thought it was a good idea at the time and in any case would you rather face a prison sentence?’
Edward was not easily convinced. ‘Look here, you’ve been sleeping with the man, haven’t you? Why else would he give you money?’
‘Don’t be absurd! And don’t go over all that again, Edward, not now,’ she said, rubbing at her stomach. ‘I am not feeling too well, can’t you see that or are you so selfish that you can only think of yourself?’
‘Well, I don’t like it, a man giving my wife a substantial amount of money for nothing, it doesn’t make sense.’ He looked at her suspiciously. ‘You have been honest with me, haven’t you, Alice?’
She sighed. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Edward.’
‘This man, Morton-Edwards, are you sure he wasn’t one of your lovers?’ He peered at her, as though trying to see inside her skull. Alice was inclined to tell him the truth; she was fast losing patience with him. Who did he think he was? Some potentate who kept his wife behind locked doors? She was about to make a sarcastic remark when his next words made her stop short, her mouth still open.
‘Come to think of it, the idea to have a baby came from you.’ His lips pressed together in a thin line as he considered the matter. ‘It was all rather sudden, wasn’t it? If the children don’t look like me there will be trouble, Alice, believe me.’