by Iris Gower
Mrs Morgan turned out to be a white-haired lady but with a glow in her dark eyes that reminded her of Pedr.
‘I hope I’m not intruding, Mrs Morgan,’ Shanni said pleasantly. ‘Madame Isabelle heard that Pedr was poorly and asked me to bring a few goodies for him.’
‘Oh, Duw, so come in, Miss.’ Mrs Morgan bobbed a curtsy and Shanni wondered afresh at how far she had come from her roots. Now she spoke in the cultured tones of the gentry. She was dressed in fine linen and her shoes were made of well-seasoned leather. All the trappings of a well-brought-up young lady had made her respectable in the eyes of the poorer people.
She handed the basket to the old woman. Poor Mrs Morgan would never realize that working people were as good as the gentry any day. The rich had just grasped at life for themselves.
The inside of the house was sparkling clean. The small front room was furnished with a polished mahogany chest of drawers and a worn sofa. A small table stood near the window holding a vast plant that threatened to overflow and fill the tiny parlour.
‘Pedr, there’s a young lady to see you. Are you decent, boy bach?’
Pedr was seated in an armchair in the tiny kitchen. He wore only a flannel vest and working breeches. His arms were bare and muscular and covered with curling dark hair.
‘Dewch i mewn,’ Pedr said. ‘Come in, I won’t bite.’ He smiled painfully with swollen lips. ‘Shanni, sit down and, Mam, stop dithering and get us some of that tasty blackcurrant cordial you made, won’t you?’
‘Siaradwch Cymraig, boy bach.’
‘Mam wants me to speak in Welsh. She doesn’t understand much English,’ Pedr said.
As soon as Mrs Morgan left the room, Shanni sat close to Pedr. ‘Tell me what happened. By the look of your poor face you got a fine beating.’
‘Let’s say a gate accidentally fell on me, Shanni.’ His smile was cheerful in spite of his bruises; one eye was almost closed. ‘Gates have a funny habit of falling down when you take an axe to them.’
‘And Mr Ceri Buchan was there, that was unexpected. What happened to him?’
‘Darro! Mr Buchan should never have been there. We weren’t to know he would be passing the gate at the very time we meant to do the business.’
‘Will he be all right?’
‘Aye, he’ll survive. He’s got plenty of money for doctors, hasn’t he?’ He sighed. ‘Still, Dafydd won’t like it that his brother got hurt, and he’ll blame us for going ahead without him.’
‘Where was Dafydd, then?’
Pedr gave her a dark look. ‘You don’t know?’
‘No! I wouldn’t be asking you if I did.’
Pedr leaned closer and as his lips brushed her ear Shanni resisted the temptation to pull away from him. ‘Our Dafydd has been fishing in another man’s stream,’ Pedr whispered. ‘He’s having what you posh people would call ‘‘an illicit affair with a married woman’’.’
‘What?’ Shanni was startled. A pain spread from her heart to encompass her entire body. ‘Who with?’
‘Mrs Mainwaring. Who else? Don’t tell me you didn’t know – and you living in the same house as her? Everyone is saying her husband’s left her over it, and who can blame him?’
‘No!’ Shanni moved away from Pedr as his mother returned to the room carrying two cups of cordial. Shanni took one, but her hand was trembling. It could not be true. Dafydd and Llinos Mainwaring lovers? It was impossible.
‘Thank you, Mrs Morgan. Diolch yn fawr,’ she repeated in Welsh. But her mind was racing. ‘She’s too old for him,’ she said to Pedr. ‘It must be a mistake. What would Dafydd see in a woman of her age?’ But the more she thought about it, the more she realized Pedr was telling the truth. Mrs Mainwaring was a woman of taste and culture, and Dafydd would be more her sort of man than Joe Mainwaring, who was half Indian. ‘No wonder Mrs Mainwaring is giving me so much freedom,’ she said. And no wonder there was a bloom about Mrs Mainwaring, these days.
‘Haven’t you noticed anything wrong between husband and wife, then?’ Pedr said, and he was laughing at her.
‘Well, I thought they had quarrelled over something because Mr Mainwaring came home from America and then, after a few days, he left the house again.’
It all added up, now that she thought about it. How could Mrs Mainwaring cheapen herself by having an affair with a man so much younger than herself?
‘Sinking in now, is it?’ Pedr winced. ‘Damn my eyes!’ he said feelingly, touching his face lightly. ‘Trust me to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘Well, I’d better get back to Madame’s house.’ Shanni hoped Pedr did not notice how agitated she was. ‘She told me not to be out too long.’ She suddenly felt ill, and the more she thought of Dafydd with Mrs Mainwaring the more angry and hurt she became.
‘Ah, Madame Isabelle is a wise woman. She knows I have my eye on you, my girl.’
Shanni made a half-hearted attempt to smile: it would not do to let Pedr see how upset she was. ‘Don’t try to fool me, Pedr Morgan. I know you have your eye on half the girls in Llanelli!’ She moved to the door. ‘When do you think you’ll be able to work, Pedr?’
‘In a day or two,’ he replied. ‘As soon as I can see to put a piece of clay on the wheel I’ll be there.’
Mrs Morgan showed Shanni out. ‘Thank you kindly, Miss,’ she said, in halting English. ‘And tell Madame I am . . .’ she hesitated, trying to find the word in English ‘. . . grateful.’
Shanni walked rapidly away from the narrow streets. The clay dust in the air made her cough, and it was difficult to keep back the tears – she was so angry! How could Mrs Mainwaring be so sly, so immoral? She was cheating her husband and it did not seem to bother her one bit. She went about her everyday tasks as though nothing had happened.
Shanni was glad to return to the more pleasant area where Madame lived, where trees grew fresh and green and where flowers coloured the hedgerows. She enjoyed a fine standard of living now, she reminded herself, and angry though she was, she must do nothing to jeopardize her position. Still, it would not be easy to disguise her feelings of disgust. Mrs Mainwaring was supposed to be a lady born yet she was carrying on like a loose woman. Money and position did not make a lady of anyone.
Shanni clenched her fists; she would be going home to Swansea in the morning. Graves would come to fetch her and take her back to the big house, to the luxury she had grown accustomed to. But Shanni would never forgive Mrs Mainwaring for what she’d done. She had taken away the only man Shanni would ever love.
‘Dafydd, don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known any of this was going to happen.’ Llinos sat up in bed with the silk coverlet pulled over her breasts. Outside the hotel the rumble of carriage wheels and the calling of street vendors heralded the morning. ‘The men acted without your permission and your brother was unfortunate enough to be hurt. I don’t suppose anyone meant to fire a gun – indeed, I’m surprised any of the protestors would be in possession of one.’ She paused. ‘But, in any case, you can’t blame yourself for anything that happened when you weren’t there.’
‘Perhaps I should blame myself, though,’ Dafydd said edgily. ‘I should have been there. You are distracting me from my objectives, Llinos. I should have my mind on other things instead of lusting after you.’
‘Oh, and is that how you think of your involvement with me?’ Llinos was cut to the quick. ‘Just another woman to take to your bed. I had hoped I meant more to you than that.’
Dafydd returned to the bed. ‘Of course you do!’ He took her face in his hands. ‘I could take my fill of women who would offer me the comfort of their body,’ he kissed her lightly, ‘but you, my Llinos, are special. That’s why I came back so early this morning to be with you.’
She knew he meant it. Dafydd was a well-to-do, intelligent man. He was also very good-looking. As he rightly said, he could have his pick if all he wanted was a woman in his arms.
‘I must go.’ Dafydd left the bedside and took his coat from the large
cupboard. ‘I still have work to do. We can’t all sit back in luxury and allow the pottery to run itself.’
He was teasing and she knew it. ‘Ah, you slaves to industry, how difficult your lives must be.’ She threw back her head and laughed, her happiness restored.
Dafydd stopped at the door. ‘I don’t think you understand how very beautiful you are,’ he said softly, ‘with your hair tumbling over your white shoulders and the look of a woman fulfilled in your eyes.’ He opened the door abruptly. ‘If I don’t leave now I never will. Until later, Llinos.’
Llinos washed and dressed at her own pace. Later she would walk to the shops and treat herself to some new undergarments. She felt the colour rise to her face as she imagined Dafydd removing her shift and her corset and laying her on the bed so that he could gaze at her body. He loved her so much. He would never stray, not in the way that Joe had.
Joe. The thought of him was like a knife wound. ‘Oh, Joe!’ Llinos sank on to the rumpled bed and put her hands over her face. ‘I never meant to be unfaithful but you hurt me so much, Joe. Our love turned sour when you took another woman to your bed.’
Swallowing her tears, Llinos stood before the mirror and brushed her hair into place. At the door, she stood for a moment looking round the hotel bedroom. Was this a shallow illicit affair? Or did Dafydd really love her?
The thought of going back to her home in Pottery Row held no appeal for her yet soon Graves would be fetching Shanni from Llanelli, they would meet in the large emporium in town, and after their shopping was complete Graves would drive them home. Home. It seemed an empty word and, all at once, a great sadness filled her heart.
Shanni was already seated behind the ornate glass windows of the emporium tea-rooms when Llinos arrived. She glanced up as if sensing Llinos’s presence and, though she made a pretence of smiling, there was something mutinous about her expression. She looked like a child who had been denied a treat.
‘Mrs Mainwaring, I’m glad you’ve come. The waiter has been giving me odd looks, wanting me to give an order or something,’ she said at once.
Ah, so that was the problem. ‘I’m sorry, am I late?’ Llinos allowed the man to draw out a chair for her. She glanced up as she peeled off her gloves. ‘Thank you, Wesley.’ She took her seat and accepted the menu he held at a deferential distance from her face. ‘I think I’ll just have a pot of tea and some lightly toasted bread. What will you have, Shanni?’
‘The same, if I may, Mrs Mainwaring.’
As the man walked away Llinos leaned forward. ‘I think the time has come when you could be less formal. Please call me Llinos. Being addressed as Mrs Mainwaring makes me feel a hundred years old!’
‘Oh, I don’t know if I could get used to that.’ Shanni did not meet Llinos’s gaze. ‘You are much older than me, even older than my mother was. It would seem disrespectful to call you by your Christian name.’
Llinos sat back in her chair feeling as though she had been slapped. She swallowed her anger and forced a light note into her voice. ‘Tell me, how did your visit to Madame go? Did you learn a great deal of music and shall I hear the results of your tuition when we go home?’
Shanni’s mouth twisted into a grimace. ‘I’ll never be really good at the pianoforte, not like Madame.’
The waiter brought the pot of tea along with a tiny milk jug and sugar bowl. He placed the silver tea strainer beside Shanni and smiled. ‘Would you like to pour the tea for your mother?’ he said kindly.
Llinos was as shocked as if water had been thrown in her face. Only this morning she had lain in her lover’s arms, listening to his compliments, and had felt reborn. Now this man was assuming she was Shanni’s mother.
‘I am the young lady’s aunt,’ she said, forcing a smile. She leaned back in her chair, feeling all of her forty years. To most people she was a woman past her prime: she was the mother of a son a little older than Shanni – why was she trying to fool herself into believing she was young and beautiful? ‘Come along, Shanni.’ Llinos tried to lighten the mood of the moment. ‘Did anything unusual or exciting happen while you were with Madame?’
‘Well,’ Shanni hesitated, ‘there was an incident.’
‘What sort of incident?’ Llinos had heard what Dafydd had told her about the fracas at the gate but it would be interesting to discover what Shanni knew of the business.
‘Well, it was the servants gossiping.’ Shanni seemed evasive. ‘One of the maids said someone got shot. I think Mr Ceri Buchan was injured, though I’m not sure.’
‘I see.’ Llinos had the distinct feeling that Shanni knew more than she was telling. ‘Are his injuries serious?’
‘I don’t really know, Mrs Mainwaring. Madame doesn’t encourage gossip.’
‘But Isabelle is very friendly with the Buchan brothers, is she not? Surely she would be concerned about one of them being injured.’
‘If she was she wouldn’t tell me. She is a very forceful lady. She has warned me about gossiping. She says it’s dangerous at times like these.’
There was a note in Shanni’s voice that troubled Llinos. ‘Let’s have this tea, shall we?’
Even though her heart was not in it Llinos spent an hour in the emporium buying materials for day and evening gowns. As the seamstress measured Shanni it became apparent how much the girl had grown since she had lived at Pottery Row: her skin had a healthy glow and her figure was maturing rapidly. She was at least an inch taller than she had been even a few months ago. It was clear that she had matured in every way. Somehow, Llinos found the thought disconcerting.
Llinos was relieved when at last Graves drove the carriage into the yard at the back of the house. As she stepped down to the ground, Llinos saw the groom was leading Joe’s horse in the direction of the stable. Her heart sank. So he had come home, had he? Now she would have to make excuses to go out, and Joe would see right through her lies.
She gave herself a mental shake. He had been the first one to break their marriage vows so why should she feel guilty? She lifted her head defiantly. She had nothing to reproach herself with.
She became aware that Shanni was staring at her and when she turned to look at the girl there was a definite gleam of malice in her eyes. It was almost as though Shanni knew of her discomfort and revelled in it.
‘Come along, let’s get indoors,’ Llinos said briskly. ‘I can’t spend all day on you, girl, I do have other things to do.’
She strode into the hall, feeling a mood of depression darkening the day. It had started badly and, by the look of it, was going to get worse.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘SO, BUCHAN IS your lover, then?’ Joe was standing near the fireplace in the drawing room, his elbow resting on the ornate marble mantelpiece. He looked every inch master of the house and tears welled in Llinos’s eyes for all she had lost.
‘Shanni thought it her duty to tell me. The poor child is worried about your reputation while you, clearly, are not. Do you love him?’
For a moment Llinos was angry with Shanni. How dare the girl interfere? ‘I suppose Pedr Morgan told Shanni about us. Why couldn’t he keep a still tongue in his head?’
‘Do you love him?’ Joe repeated.
‘I don’t know.’ She sank into an armchair and wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I don’t really know what I feel for Dafydd, but I do know I can’t give him up.’
She glanced at Joe. He was as handsome as ever, his body lithe and slim as the day they first met. She ached for the time when they had shared a beautiful untarnished love. That innocent time before Joe broke his marriage vows.
‘You’ve come here to see Lloyd, not me, I suppose?’ she asked. ‘You know he’ll be home some time today, don’t you?’
Joe nodded, and Llinos looked away from him feeling a deep disappointment: Joe still had the power to hurt her.
‘Perhaps we should try to share the same room, for Lloyd’s sake,’ Llinos said, but as soon as she had spoken she regretted her words. She saw Joe smile ruefully.
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br /> ‘That would be asking too much, Llinos,’ he said. ‘How could I lie in the same bed as you and not touch you?’ His voice hardened. ‘And how could I lie with you knowing you had come straight from the arms of another man?’
Llinos sat up straight, anger making her heart pound. ‘The same way I put up with you when you came from the arms of Sho Ka!’ She stood up abruptly and walked to the door. ‘Joe, how do you think I felt when you went off to live with another woman? Do you think I was happy about it? No. I was furious, humiliated. I felt old and unwanted. You have a lot to answer for, Joe, believe me!’
She expected him to say that his affair had been different, that men were different, but he remained silent. Joe was a fair-minded and sensitive man, and he knew how much he had hurt her.
‘At least I am making a pretence of respecting our marriage.’ There was an edge of bitterness in her voice. ‘I haven’t moved in with my lover and shamed you before the world.’
‘Ah, so that is the crux of the matter.’ Joe’s voice was raised. ‘Your pride was damaged because I took another beautiful woman. Is that it?’
Llinos wanted to hit him. She took a deep breath. ‘I suppose that was part of it. Do you think I wanted other women pitying me, ridiculing me because I was a woman who could not keep her man?’
‘Most of the men of Swansea have mistresses.’ Joe moderated his tone. ‘Their wives accept it – indeed, some are grateful for it.’
‘And I thought you were different,’ Llinos said. ‘I thought our marriage was made in heaven. Like a fool I believed in you, believed you would be faithful, come hell or high water. I can’t believe how stupid I was.’
She left him and went into the hall, not seeing the sunlight casting shadows on the mellow wood of the floor, not even glancing in the mirror as she passed, perhaps because she could not face herself. She walked slowly up the stairs. She felt old and tired.
What was she doing with a man so much younger than herself? Was she searching for her lost youth? But no, her feelings for Dafydd went far deeper than that. In any case she was not old. Women of forty often married and lived a long and healthy life.