by Iris Gower
‘She’ll have to sell, the foolish woman, I’ve left her account empty. What I’ve done is bound to be discovered in time which is why I need money to get away from Swansea altogether.’
‘But she will sell,’ John insisted.
‘I suppose so. I told her that her husband had cleared out her account. The lie will at least give me breathing space.’ He glanced at John and his face lightened. ‘You should have seen her, she swallowed the story hook, line and sinker.’
John despised the man. He had disliked him on sight and right now Sparks was revelling in another human being’s pain. But for all that he might still prove useful.
‘As a matter of interest, what have you got against Mrs Mainwaring?’ he asked.
‘I had a buyer for her pottery some time ago, the offer was a good one and the stupid woman would not sell. I lost a great deal of money because of her stubbornness. Women have no place in business, you know that as well as I do.’ He leaned forward. ‘You are going to pay me, John?’
John rubbed his chin and answered Sparks’s question with a question of his own. ‘You are coming in with me on the venture I take it, so why don’t you hand over the money you owe?’
‘I can’t go into any business deal now, surely you can see that? Look, John, have you got the money or haven’t you? There’s a lot at stake here.’ He paused. ‘I did my part, I pushed Mrs Mainwaring into a position where she would have to sell and risked my own neck doing it. It’s your fault I’m in a mess now.’
‘You’ve got it wrong,’ John said, shaking his head. ‘I didn’t ask you to risk losing your job, I thought you were cleverer than that. I just wanted to buy some property around here and make us both rich men into the bargain.’
He lifted the tankard; the pewter lip was cold against his mouth but the beer was good, made from strong hops. Not half as good as Cornish ale but good enough. For now. One day, he would return home with a fortune behind him. Then he would be able to take his revenge on Treharne. The sour taste of bitterness was in his mouth as he remembered how his sick father was turned out into the night. Banished from the home that had been in his family for a hundred years or more.
John had not been close to his father but he was angry that he had died in a run-down lodging house. He had been buried in a paupers’ grave and all because of Treharne. But the day of vengeance would come and sooner than Treharne imagined.
He focused his attention on Sparks. The man was spiteful and weak. He bore Llinos Mainwaring a grudge because she would not fall in with his plans and sell the pottery when he asked her to. He wanted her ruined just because he had lost a few sovereigns on the deal. He would need watching.
‘I’ll go and see her tomorrow,’ John said. ‘This money you embezzled, I take it you can have it ready within a day or two?’
Edward Sparks hesitated and John leaned closer to him. ‘You will have it ready?’ he said insistently. ‘You do have it, don’t you?’
Sparks sat back in his seat as though disturbed by John’s closeness. John frowned in anger; he had learned to be hard on those who thwarted him. He had been soft once, young and untried, and a ruthless man had taken everything away from him. That would not happen again.
‘If you’ve kept that money for yourself you are a dead man,’ John said. He had expected Sparks to bring the cash with him; all the money he had taken from various accounts must add up to a large sum by now.
‘It’s all right, you go ahead,’ Edward said, ‘speak to Mrs Mainwaring, make her an offer and I’ll do the rest.’
‘Good enough.’ John relaxed. ‘Now, let’s forget business and have a little fun, shall we?’
Edward Sparks looked owl-like behind his glasses. ‘What sort of fun?’
‘We’ll find some women, take them back to my house.’ It was Polly’s house and she would not take kindly to women from the streets enjoying the comforts she had provided for John but then Polly would never know.
‘I don’t know about that,’ Edward said. He took a deep drink from his tankard as John lifted his hand to the landlord for another jug of beer.
The jug was brought and John spoke quietly to the landlord. The man nodded and money changed hands.
‘There, all done.’ John poured beer into Edward Sparks’s tankard. ‘Drink up, this is a night you are going to remember, this is a night to celebrate our rise to the ranks of men of property.’
John noticed that the more Sparks drank, the more his face streamed with sweat. He presented a far from attractive prospect for any woman. But, then, these would be women of the streets; they would not be too particular so long as the money was there at the end of the night.
The landlord made a sign to John and he nodded. ‘Come on, Sparks,’ he said, ‘the girls are ready for us.’
Sparks still hesitated and John nudged him impatiently. ‘Here take these few sovereigns and pay me back later. Come on, man, you’ve no wife to go home to and a man needs to sow his wild oats.’
Outside the inn, a carriage was standing at the ready. Two eager faces peered out at John. A girl with abundant dark hair dimpled at him. At her side was a small, pale-faced woman and John decided she looked a little too delicate for his tastes.
He pushed Sparks into the seat beside the pale one and slipped his arm around the other girl. She responded immediately by putting her hand on his breeches and pushing her full breasts towards him.
‘I’m Bella, I think I’m going to like you,’ she said.
‘No rush to find out,’ John replied. ‘We’ve a nice warm bed to lie in and all night to lie in it.’
The drive did not take long. John opened the door and led the party inside. ‘Wait, I’ll light the candles.’
In the brighter light, John saw that Bella was older than he had first thought but she was still a beauty with curving hips and shapely breasts. ‘I think I’m going to enjoy you, Bella.’
‘Which is the best bedroom?’ she asked looking up the stairs. ‘Come on, sir, let’s get to it, I can’t wait to take your clothes off you.’
John directed Sparks to the smaller bedroom and the man appeared more as though he was going to his doom than having a dalliance with a lovely, willing woman.
John took Bella into the bedroom and closed the door. She smiled at him, her eyes flirting with him, her hands on the waist of his breeches. John felt aroused, it was several days since he had seen Polly and, eager for him and generous though she was, John found her constant chatter irritating. Apart from which, variety appealed to him, it always had. He had never been faithful even when he was living with Josephine McCabe and beholden to her damned family.
‘Come to bed, darling,’ Bella urged. ‘Let’s have fun!’ She flung off her gown and he saw she was wearing nothing beneath it. He stared at her white skin and rounded body and knew this was going to be a night he would never forget.
Edward was elated he had managed to make love to the pale, slender Sarah twice in as many hours. He had even enjoyed it. He wondered why he was so good with her when he could not perform for his wife. But then Alice was domineering, always bossing him about, and Sarah, well, she was delicate, pliant, accepting rather than demanding. He was excited by her passiveness and somehow comforted by the knowledge that he was paying for her favours. It released him from any responsibility.
From next door came the sounds of violent lovemaking, it seemed John had more stamina than he had. Sarah sat up and looked at him, her eyes large.
‘Do you want to do it again?’ she asked and he shook his head. Enough was enough, he doubted he could perform a third time.
She sighed in relief. ‘Well then,’ she said, ‘will you take me home? Your friend told the driver to wait outside.’
Edward was happy about that; it would get the girl off his hands. Then he would go home to his own bed. Sarah held out her hand and Edward felt the bile rise in his throat; all he had with him was the small amount of money John had given him. He handed the girl one of the coins and she seemed satisfied.
Edward began to worry, all he was doing was getting himself deeper into debt. If only he had not listened to Alice, had not agreed to her high-flown ideas. Damn Alice! She had run up bills, landing him in dreadful debt. And now Edward needed to find a way out of the mess, to keep himself from the bankruptcy court or even prison. It was either that or run away from Swansea and stay away.
Sarah was dressed by now and she looked quite respectable with her little jacket and matching bonnet. He put his finger to his lips as he opened the door, no need to let John know how soon he had left the house.
As the carriage jolted away from the doorway, Edward glanced back hoping that John would be too involved with the vivacious Bella to notice he was leaving. Bella was dark and lovely but she reminded him too much of Alice. He had been quite happy with little Sarah. What a great pity he had not found a respectable woman of the same type, a woman who would acquiesce, would make no demands. A woman who would not ruin him financially.
‘We’re nearly there.’ Sarah was peering out of the window. ‘See, it’s that cottage there, the third one along in the row.’
The carriage pulled in to the side of the road and, as Edward climbed out to help Sarah down, the door behind him opened. Edward spun round, suddenly frightened. What if he should be face to face with an irate father?
‘Lovely night for it!’ The voice boomed out and a large hand clamped on Edward’s shoulder. ‘Enjoyed my little girlie, did you?’
Edward looked at Sarah and she dipped into her bag, handing the man the money she had collected. ‘Here you are, Bull.’
‘Ah, a generous man, I see.’ He clapped Edward on the shoulder. ‘Come in, good sir, we’ve got a card game going, might as well make a real night of it now, eh?’
Edward was pushed into a smoke-filled kitchen with a large table in the centre of the room. Around it were seated men of various ages and occupations. Some were clearly labourers; one or two dressed like gentlemen. He was obviously in a house of ill repute and Edward was uncomfortable.
‘Make room.’ Bull pushed a battered stool into the small gap between two of the men. On one side of Edward sat a beefy man with the blue scars of the collier. Occupying what seemed to be the only decent chair in the room was a portly man with a gold watch hanging from a thick chain around his belly.
‘Evening to you!’ The man nodded, not taking his eyes from the cards in his hand. ‘Good player are you?’
Edward was not sure. He had played a little at cards but was no expert. Still, most of it was down to luck so he had as good a chance as anyone else.
‘You’ll be in the next hand,’ Bull said. ‘Come on, boys, shove your money onto the table, let’s see the colour of it.’
Gold sovereigns poured onto the rough boards and Edward felt his stomach lurch; he had not anticipated such high stakes. Still, if only luck was with him he might win enough to solve all his problems. He looked around him and decided it would be foolish to try to leave now.
He was dealt into the next hand and the cards he held were good ones. He felt a new excitement rising within him. He had never been a gambler but that had been from lack of opportunity rather than choice. He soon found he was good at the game and by the end of the hand he had a heap of money on the table before him.
With confidence now, he gambled, knowing that the money he might lose would not come out of his own pocket.
Bull looked at him with narrowed eyes and pushed a cup of porter towards him. Edward drank; his mouth was dry with excitement. He felt elated, a real man in bed and out of it. That was something Alice had never done for him, given him confidence in himself.
He was unaware of something being slipped into his drink. He played as though possessed, winning hand after hand. Perhaps he should leave now while he was ahead.
Bull would not hear of it. He pressed Edward back into his chair, standing behind him as he refilled his cup. ‘Come on, man!’ he bellowed. ‘Enjoy yourself, have a good time, that’s what we’re here for.’
Edward lost the next hand and a good deal of his money was swept away across the table. He was not too worried; he would make it up next time, he was sure. The hand was dealt and as he looked at his cards, Edward’s heart sank. All he could hope for now was to bluff his way through the game. After all, he was playing for high stakes.
He put out a great deal of his winnings in an effort to convince the others that he was holding a good hand. But as the game came to an end, he realized he had lost again.
‘We’ll take a note, old man,’ the portly gentleman at his side said encouragingly. ‘We can all see that you are well positioned, in short a gentleman of honour.’ He looked round him. ‘We all trust each other here, right?’
Edward signed a note, his mind was fuddled, he had not drunk too much but his vision was clouded. He tried his best to concentrate on the game. He scribbled more notes, laughing a lot as he threw in his hand. Nothing seemed to matter any more. At last, he felt his head slip onto the table and then he slept.
When Edward woke, his mouth tasted as if it was full of sawdust. He was lying on the floor and beside him, snoring like a thunderstorm, was the big figure of Bull.
Edward sat up abruptly and felt a violent pain in his head. He rubbed his hand against the sharpness of his untrimmed beard. Beside him, Bull stirred and opened one eye; he was like a dog ready to wake at any sound.
‘I’d better get home.’ Edward scrambled to his feet; he ached in every joint. A feeling of dread swamped him as he thought of the notes he had written. He had signed away more money than he could ever hope to repay.
Daylight was trickling in through the kitchen window. Stumps of candles littered the floor. ‘I’d better get off and clean myself up ready for work,’ he said. He knew instinctively that he must act as though everything in his life was under control.
‘Aye, better had, young sir.’ Bull scratched his fat belly and broke wind loudly. Edward turned away, appalled at the crudeness of the man. How could he have spent the night in such company?
He lurched towards the door and leaned on the latch for a moment, trying to control the jerking in his limbs. ‘I must clean up before I go to work.’ Why was he repeating himself? He sounded like a halfwit. He looked down at his clothes, they were crumpled and a red stain ran down the front of his shirt. He was a mess.
‘Don’t forget you have your notes to repay, mind,’ Bull said. ‘Our Sarah ‘as written out on a piece of paper what you owe to various gentlemen that sat in on the game.’
Edward took the paper and tried to read Sarah’s writing. It was neat enough but his eyes would not focus properly. He realized he had lost his glasses.
‘Looking for these?’ Bull held them out to him and Edward rubbed them against his coat. When he could see clearly he was shocked at the amount written at the bottom of the page.
‘Jest bring the money round and me and Sarah will sort it out with the others,’ Bull said genially.
Edward walked home in a daze. If he sold everything he owned, he would never raise enough to pay his gambling debts.
He took the back streets, praying he would not meet anyone he knew. He was ashamed of his behaviour. He had slept with a whore and then he had sat in on a gambling ring and thrown away everything he had worked for.
And where was Alice? She was just fine; she was at her father’s house, living like a queen. It was she who had caused all the trouble in his life. Alice had ruined him, had made him a thief. She had brought him to the pit of hell. If he could get hold of her now, he would put his hands around her white throat and squeeze until there was no breath left in her.
He reached the safety of the house and threw off his soiled clothes in disgust. He found water still in the jug in his bedroom and scrubbed himself until his flesh was red. It was as though by purging his body he could purge his soul of all his sins.
He dressed in fresh clothes, noticing that the shirt was the last clean one in the cupboard. He sat on the bed thinking of his debts, hi
s head bent in despair. He would have to pay them off however he did it. The sort of men he had kept company with would not stop at harsh words.
Edward shuddered; Bull would have no compunction about torturing him by way of entertainment before beating him to death. Everything looked hopeless. He put his hands over his face and wept like a baby. He had lost everything – his good name, his reputation as a respectable businessman – and now he might even lose his life.
At last, he pulled himself together. There was nothing else for it, he would have to pay off his gambling debts with John Pendennis’s money. Just how he would explain it all to John he would have to figure out later.
‘So what do you say, Mrs Mainwaring, will you sell the pottery to me?’ John was standing near the door of the drawing room and Llinos looked up at him, her mind in turmoil. If only Joe were here, he could save the pottery. But even if Sparks had lied about Joe clearing out the account, which on reflection seemed likely, Joe was no longer interested in the pottery or in his wife and family.
‘I don’t know.’ She rubbed her eyes tiredly. ‘I suppose I will have to sell. I know you are a villain but what choice do I have?’ She walked to the window and stared out, seeing the tall chimneys of the bottle kilns and the haze of heat that hung like an aura around them. The pottery was her family, her life. She did not know how she would survive without her work. The potting had become part of the fabric of her being.
Llinos would never be without a roof over her head. Eynon would take her into his own home and no questions asked. But she had always been independent, had always made her own way however tough the going got.
‘Look,’ John said, ‘we can compromise, you could still live here, I am quite happy in the little house I’ve rented in town.’
Llinos felt a glimmer of hope; at least John was offering her the chance of staying in the home she had grown up in. But how would she live? How would she pay for the basic necessities of life, food and clothing? She had to face the fact that she was destitute.
The spectre of the workhouse loomed. She had taken in orphans and given them employment at the pottery and she could end up behind the grim, grey walls herself.