Daughters of Rebecca

by Iris Gower

  The meeting at the Assembly Rooms was well attended. Shanni caught sight of Dafydd Buchan and thought with a sudden shock of the night she had stayed with Madame Isabelle. Had Dafydd been responsible for the death of Mr Carpenter? He had been angry that the man dared to disagree with him. But, no, it must have been the tragic accident Madame Isabelle claimed it to be.

  Dafydd saw Shanni and acknowledged her with a slight tilt of his head. Shanni responded, hoping that Jayne had not noticed the discreet action. Her hope was in vain.

  ‘Ah, you know him. He’s one of the rabble-rousers, I assume,’ Jayne said. ‘Isn’t he one of the speakers, Dafydd Buchan?’

  ‘Yes, and he is a very powerful man, too. Remember that.’ Lloyd ushered them into a seat near the front row.

  Shanni wished he had chosen somewhere near the back where she did not have to meet Dafydd’s eye. She was having feelings for Dafydd that were not appropriate in a girl of her station. But, then, what exactly was her station? She no longer knew.

  Lloyd leaned closer to Shanni and whispered in her ear, ‘Do you know Buchan, then?’

  ‘I have met him once,’ Shanni said. ‘He might be unpopular but he has common sense on his side, Lloyd.’

  ‘It all depends which side of the argument you support,’ Lloyd replied, settling back in his seat.

  Shanni listened as the first speaker, a member of the planning committee, outlined the proposals for increasing the tolls at the end of the year. His tone was reasonable and his arguments convincing.

  ‘You surely understand,’ he said, ‘that we who are responsible for the smooth running of our fair town impose these tolls with the best of motives. We have to improve roads, attend to proper sewerage, but this costs money and we all have to pay to ensure a better future for ourselves and for our children.’

  ‘But what about the poor sods who have to dig into their pockets?’ The protest came from someone at the back of the room. Someone called for the man to hold his tongue and uproar broke out. Chairs were sent flying and one hit a man sitting close to Shanni. He got to his feet bellowing in outrage, and lifted his chair above his head.

  ‘What bastard did that?’ he shouted, and Shanni put her hands over her ears. Jayne began to scream.

  ‘We have to get out of here.’ Lloyd tried to force a way for them between the crowd, but bodies heaved and fell and a missile spun past Lloyd’s head missing him by inches.

  Shanni became aware that Dafydd Buchan was suddenly at her side. He caught her arm in a none-too-gentle grip. ‘Tell your friends to hold on to each other, form a chain and I’ll get you out of here.’

  Shanni was dragged through the crowd towards the doorway with Jayne clinging to her skirts like a frightened child. Lloyd followed in the rear as Dafydd pushed and beat his way through the morass of fighting men.

  Outside in the cold winter air, Shanni took a deep breath. She looked up at Dafydd fearfully. She knew he was right that the meeting was no place for her and certainly not for a hysterical girl like Jayne.

  ‘Get off home, Shanni,’ he ordered. ‘You shouldn’t have come here. I would have thought you had enough intelligence to expect trouble over such an emotive issue.’

  He disappeared back into the hall and Shanni realized that she was trembling. ‘Come,’ she said. ‘Let’s do as he says and leave while we can.’

  ‘That awful man knew you!’ Jayne said, weakly. ‘I might have known you’d be associated with rabble.’

  ‘Be quiet!’ It was Lloyd who spoke. ‘It was that same rabble who got us out of there alive.’ He led the way to where the carriage was waiting, the driver sitting in his seat shivering a little in the cold.

  ‘Sorry, Graves,’ Lloyd said, ‘I didn’t think to tell you to go into one of the inns and warm yourself. Take us home, there’s a good man.’

  Jayne climbed into her seat, her face white. For once she seemed subdued, her eyes wide with shock. Shanni suddenly saw how frightening the experience had been for a girl who had never seen violence before.

  ‘It’s all right, Jayne, we’ll be safely away from here and nearing home in just a few minutes,’ she said.

  Lloyd sank into the seat beside Jayne and put his arm around her. ‘Come, come, there’s no harm done.’ He glanced across at Shanni. ‘I was foolish to take you girls to the meeting. I might have known there would be trouble. But, then, you would think folk who attend the Assembly Rooms would be more respectful of each other.’

  Shanni sank back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. Between those who were born rich and those born to poverty there was a great divide, and Shanni wondered if it was too great ever to be breached.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LLINOS STARED OUT of the window, her hands clasped. A light powdering of snow covered the yard, melting rapidly as it reached the heat of the kilns. The trees were brushed with light, the bare branches tipped with frost. It was going to be a hard winter, and somehow Llinos felt very alone. But, then, she was alone.

  Lloyd had gone riding and he intended to spend the night with some friends at the gentlemen’s club in the town. Shanni was staying at Madame Isabelle’s house and Joe, her dear husband, was away on business yet again.

  She bit her lip, wishing he would come home. She was missing him but, worse, she was worried that she was thinking too much of Dafydd Buchan.

  Dafydd had called to see her only yesterday. He had told her of the near riot at the Assembly Rooms and his tone had been stern. ‘Keep your son and his companions away from political meetings in future. It’s for their own good.’

  Llinos had reacted frostily. How dare he talk to her like that? And yet, even while she argued with him, told him to mind his own business, she was aware of her attraction to him.

  She sighed, bringing her thoughts back to Lloyd. He was balking at returning to college. It seemed he wanted to travel to America to see the place where his father had been born.

  Llinos was at a loss as to how to deal with Lloyd. Her son seemed wilful, rebellious, even. When he had returned from the fracas at the Assembly Rooms Shanni had been trailing behind him, looking wretched. Lloyd’s clothes were torn and he had a bruise on the side of his face. But he had still been defiant. His father should have been here to give him a good dressing-down.

  Llinos lifted her head as she heard the crisp beat of hoofs against the frozen earth and her heart quickened. Perhaps Joe had come home. She heard voices in the hall, but when the maid opened the door it was Eynon who came into the drawing room, his face red from the easterly wind.

  ‘Llinos, I am so angry with Lloyd,’ he said, without preamble. ‘What was he thinking about, taking my daughter to a meeting of rowdies and villains? I don’t want Jayne mixing with such people. She is just a child and innocent in the ways of the world.’

  Llinos held up her hand. ‘You don’t need to lecture me. I agree with you wholeheartedly. In any case, I’ve already had one lecture from Dafydd Buchan. Please, Eynon, sit down, you’re making the room look untidy!’ She paused. ‘Look, Eynon, I’m as angry as you are about the disgraceful way Lloyd behaved. It was irresponsible of him to take the girls to such a meeting.’

  ‘It’s Lloyd who should be apologizing, Llinos,’ Eynon said, as he sank into a chair. ‘I know they went without your knowledge or consent but, for heaven’s sake, impress on the boy that such behaviour is unacceptable.’

  ‘I have spoken to him most severely, Eynon,’ Llinos’s shoulders were tense, ‘but I can no more control Lloyd than I can his father.’ She felt a sudden flare of anger: Joe seemed to care more about the son who was living on another continent than he did about his legitimate son in Swansea. He should be here now dealing with the problem, not leaving it all to her.

  The front-door bell rang again. Llinos sighed. ‘Oh dear, I don’t want any visitors at the moment.’

  The maid knocked on the door of the sitting room. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Mainwaring, there’s a gentleman to see you, a Mr Dafydd Buchan, pottery owner from Llanelli.’
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br />   Llinos hesitated. She did not want to see Dafydd now. She had thought far too much about him since his last visit.

  ‘Show him in,’ she said, reluctantly.

  Dafydd entered the room and seemed at once to dominate it. She thought afresh how handsome he was, with his hair just a little long to be fashionable. He glanced briefly at Eynon and nodded, but then his penetrating brown eyes turned to Llinos. She felt transfixed by his gaze. ‘Please, won’t you join us, Mr Buchan?’ Llinos forced a smile. ‘I was just going to order tea.’ She looked at him. ‘Unless you’ve come to scold me again, have you?’

  ‘I came to apologize for that, Mrs Mainwaring.’ He spoke formally but his eyes were filled with laughter now. ‘I realize your son is a young man – he no more listens to his mother’s words of advice than I would.’

  He seemed quite at ease as he sat down and spread out his long legs before him. ‘That’s a splendid fire, Mrs Mainwaring.’

  Llinos glanced at the ornate grate. The fire was blazing with freshly placed logs and the aroma of applewood was pleasantly refreshing. She realized suddenly that Eynon was very quiet.

  ‘I am sorry. Do you know each other?’ She made the introductions as brief as possible, and she could tell by the look on Eynon’s face that he did not altogether approve of the unexpected visitor.

  ‘Your husband is away again on business, I understand,’ Dafydd said. ‘How unfortunate that I always seem to miss him.’

  He looked her over, his dark eyes taking in every detail of her appearance, and Llinos was absurdly pleased that she had dressed with care. She was aware that her figure was slender still, with the look of a young girl, but there were lines around her eyes and a silver streak in her hair that clearly did not escape Dafydd’s shrewd eye.

  ‘Yes, he is still absent. I’m sorry about that, but if there are any specific questions you wanted to ask about the pottery perhaps I would do?’

  She saw a tiny smile twitch the corners of Dafydd’s lips. ‘I think you will do very nicely, Mrs Mainwaring,’ he said.

  Eynon got to his feet abruptly. ‘I think your tone over-familiar, sir,’ he said curtly. ‘It would do for you to remember your manners in the presence of a lady.’

  ‘Are my manners lacking, then, Mr Morton-Edwards?’ Dafydd’s eyebrows were raised. There was a hard edge to his voice.

  ‘Eynon,’ Llinos said quickly, ‘do you have to leave so soon? Come along, I’ll see you to the door.’

  If he was surprised by her words Eynon hid it well. ‘Yes, I must go. Good day to you, Mr Buchan.’

  When they were in the hall Llinos put her hand on Eynon’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about Mr Buchan, I can deal with him.’

  ‘I hope so. The man doesn’t seem to know his place.’

  Llinos smiled. ‘Come, Eynon, do I detect a touch of jealousy?’ She kissed his cheek. ‘You are my dear friend and I know you want to protect me, but I’m not a little girl any longer.’

  ‘Don’t let the man stay too long, Llinos,’ Eynon said. ‘His sort needs discouraging. He’s too bumptious by half.’

  She watched as Eynon rode away, then returned to the drawing room.

  ‘Your friend is very protective,’ Dafydd said. ‘I think he doesn’t much like me.’ He smiled widely. ‘He’s in love with you, of course. That’s why he was so aggrieved at my sudden visit.’

  Llinos sat down and clasped her hands in her lap, aware that they were trembling. Eynon had been right: Dafydd was being familiar for a man she had known only for a few weeks, yet she was not irritated by his interest. Rather, she was intrigued. ‘Eynon is a very old friend,’ she said. ‘He took it upon himself to look after me when my mother died. When the pottery was in a bad way, Eynon was always on hand to help in any way he could.’ She smiled wryly. ‘In those early days, when I was trying to get the pottery back on its feet, it was hard going, believe me. It was a case of sink or swim.’

  ‘And you, very bravely, chose to swim.’

  Llinos looked at Dafydd from under her lashes and wondered if he was being patronizing, but he met her glance with a switch of his eyes and she felt herself grow tense. She sensed that Dafydd Buchan could be dangerous as well as attractive.

  ‘Did you come to look round the pottery again, Mr Buchan?’ Llinos asked.

  He stared at her lazily and Llinos felt the heat come into her cheeks. There was a long silence, and then he smiled. ‘I would much prefer to stay here and talk with you, Mrs Mainwaring. You are charming and intelligent, and such ladies are rare, I’ve found.’

  He was smooth-tongued, a flatterer with charisma and good looks. Llinos knew that, and yet she warmed to him. She felt like an attractive woman again, not a wife of many years’ standing. She realized that it was a long time since Joe had made her feel that way.

  ‘Then, by all means, stay and talk.’ She hoped her voice did not reflect her excitement. She wanted him very much to stay, to talk to her about potting, about anything that came into his head. He was an exciting man, intelligent too, and she relished the time spent in his company. That was all that attracted her to him – she needed companionship and the mental stimulation of good conversation.

  He talked. His enthusiasm for his work was boundless. He was now producing pottery, he told her, good tableware with colourful patterns that would be exclusive to the Llanelli pottery. He described the designs: some would be stylized flowers and others would be gaily painted farm animals.

  Llinos found herself enraptured by his energy and enthusiasm. These were feelings she had lost, the pleasure in the pottery work and the challenge of new ideas.

  ‘Perhaps I will come soon to see your pottery.’ Llinos leaned forward in her chair. ‘Your patterns sound so exciting.’

  ‘That would be a delight,’ Dafydd said, his face revealing nothing. ‘I know you would be most appreciative of what my brother and I are trying to achieve.’

  ‘I hope your brother won’t mind if I visit. Have you any other family?’ Llinos could have bitten her tongue. He would know exactly what she was really asking.

  ‘I have no wife as yet,’ he said, and his mouth twitched at the corners.

  Llinos felt like a young, untried girl, and as the colour spread hotly from her neck to her face she lowered her head, as if plucking a piece of cotton from her gown. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I am being far too personal and we are practically strangers.’ But he did not feel like a stranger. It was as if she had known him for ever.

  He echoed her thoughts. ‘No, I wouldn’t call us strangers. We have the beginnings of a fine friendship, I think.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right.’ She spoke breathlessly. What was it about Dafydd Buchan that made her feel like a lovely young girl again?

  ‘My brother is married,’ he offered. ‘Ceri has a pleasant wife and three infants.’

  Llinos tried to think of something sensible to say. ‘You have met my son,’ she said. ‘He’s my only child. But Lloyd has a half-brother somewhere in America.’ Now why on earth had she blurted out what was in her mind?

  ‘I see.’ Dafydd looked into her eyes. ‘Well, I expect many a married man has dallied a little before the knot is tied. It is no great sin for a man to take a woman before he takes a wife.’ He smiled suddenly, and dimples appeared in his cheeks. ‘Some even say it is beneficial.’

  ‘Oh, yes? For whom?’ Llinos said sharply. ‘Not the poor wife, I think. In any case, my husband did his dallying not before our wedding but after.’ She paused to gather her wits. ‘How did we come to this? I’m mortified to be talking so intimately with you, Mr Buchan.’

  ‘Please call me Dafydd, and there’s no need to feel embarrassed. I am pleased that we can talk in this way.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘Before I met you I was led to expect that Mrs Llinos Mainwaring was something of a dragon. That was far from the truth because here you are, a beautiful lady with fire in her eyes.’

  Llinos was suddenly fearful. She was getting into an intimacy that was dangerous. Yet she felt rosy and war
m and happy, a woman in the presence of an attractive man who showed a real interest in what she had to say. ‘You’ll stay for tea?’ she asked, and heard without remorse the note of entreaty in her voice. She wanted him to stay; she felt she could have talked with him for hours.

  ‘Alas,’ he glanced at his pocket watch, ‘my time is short. But may I call again at an arranged time more convenient to us both?’ He rose to his feet and Llinos felt a dart of disappointment. ‘Then we can talk to our hearts’ content.’

  She smiled. ‘That would be very . . .’ she searched for an appropriate word ‘. . . enjoyable. I hope it will be soon.’

  She got up reluctantly, and went with him to the door of the drawing room. He stood for a moment, his hand on the latch, and she was very conscious of his nearness, of the breadth of his shoulders, the power in his dark eyes.

  ‘I will make the visit a priority,’ he said. ‘It’s a long time since I enjoyed the company of a woman so much.’ He took her hand and bent to kiss her fingers.

  The brush of his lips against her skin sent a thrill of desire through her, and Llinos snatched her hand away. ‘The maid will see you out,’ she said, in a low voice, afraid to meet his eyes. ‘But please call again, soon.’

  When he had left, Llinos closed the drawing-room door and stood looking at her reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. She saw a woman with animation in her face, an expression that could almost be described as radiant. It was the look of a woman highly attracted to a man. Had Dafydd noticed? Somehow Llinos felt sure that he had.

  ‘Dafydd.’ The name escaped softly from her parted lips. Dafydd, the Welsh for David. A strong name for a strong man. Llinos pressed her hands to her hot cheeks; she was being silly, wicked, lusting after him. And yet, and yet, she just wanted to savour the memory of Dafydd Buchan for a little while.

  Llinos sank into her chair and stared at her hands. His lips had touched her skin and she had enjoyed the sensation more than was proper for a mature, married woman. But he liked her, Dafydd really liked her, and she could not wait to see him again.