by Iris Gower
Llinos loved Binnie as a dear friend. There had never been any hint of a romance between them.
‘Binnie is a rich man now,’ she said proudly. ‘He owns a pottery in a place called West Troy. He has a magnificent house and three lovely sons. I’m so proud of what he’s achieved because Binnie, like you, grew up in poverty.’
Shanni ignored her last remark. ‘And he’s coming here to visit? How old are his sons?’
‘Dan is the eldest. He’s probably about your age, perhaps a little older.’ She smiled at Shanni’s open curiosity. ‘Looking for a sweetheart, are you?’
‘Not me!’ She looked up at Llinos. ‘Can I confide in you?’
‘Of course you can.’ Llinos sat near her and took her hands. ‘What is it? Have you fallen in love already?’
‘In a way.’ Shanni did not meet her eyes. ‘I’ve met a most wonderful man. He’s older than me, and I think he sees me as a child but I mean to win him over.’
Somehow, Llinos felt uneasy. There was a look in Shanni’s eyes that could almost be described as spiteful. It was as if she was holding some secret in her heart, something she knew would hurt Llinos. Her instincts were not wrong.
‘I’m in love with Dafydd Buchan,’ Shanni said. ‘He’s handsome and brave and, oh, I admire him so much!’
Llinos was frightened. Her mouth was dry when she tried to speak. ‘That’s silly. He’s so far too old for you, Shanni.’
‘But, then, you are much older than Dafydd,’ Shanni said quickly. ‘In any case, you were in love when you were my age, weren’t you? You do still love Mr Mainwaring, don’t you?’ She was challenging Llinos. Her attitude was one of defiance. She knew. Somehow she had found out that Llinos and Dafydd were lovers.
‘Would you advise me to tell Dafydd how I feel?’ Shanni persisted, her expression bland.
Llinos took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think so. In any case, I’d rather not talk about it.’ Llinos swallowed hard. ‘Just don’t do anything you might regret.’
She was silent then, wondering how Shanni had found out about the affair. Every move she made, every word she uttered spoke volumes. She wanted to take Dafydd away from Llinos.
‘Look, Shanni, you will meet many young men, suitable sweethearts, more your own age. You will soon get over your infatuation.’
Shanni shook her head. ‘No, I won’t. From the moment I set eyes on Dafydd I wanted him. I suppose you think he’s above me in station, that I’m not good enough for him, is that it?’ Her voice was edged with anger.
‘No, I’m not saying that at all.’ Llinos got up and turned her back on the girl, her mind racing, jealousy searing her. How close had they been? Had Dafydd given Shanni so much attention that she thought she had a chance with him?
Outside the rain was dripping from the trees, the sky was heavy. There would be no break in the weather for some time to come.
Llinos rubbed her eyes, knowing she must tread carefully. ‘Never think you are unworthy of any man. You are an intelligent young woman. Just don’t love unwisely, that’s what I’m trying to say.’
‘Is it all, though, Mrs Mainwaring? I think you are angry with me and I don’t understand why.’
Llinos spun round to face Shanni and the disgust in the girl’s eyes was almost tangible.
‘Mind how you talk to me, girl!’ Llinos said. ‘Remember why you are here in my house and who is paying for your education. Now, you’re due a lesson with Isabelle soon. In any case, I can’t stay here gossiping. I have work to do.’
She left the room and crossed the hallway, clasping her hands to stop them shaking. The clouds parted and, for a moment, pale sunshine highlighted the coating of dust from the clay that settled afresh on the glass panes every day.
Llinos sat at her desk and took out her drawing pad. It was time she thought up some fresh designs – at least she could still contribute something to the pottery. But her mind was not on her work: Shanni’s words still echoed in her mind. Silly girl, how could she think that Dafydd would be interested in her? Had he encouraged her in any way? The thought nagged at her.
Llinos rested her chin in her hands and stared out into the garden. The rain had started again and beat down with a vengeance. She was filled with uncertainty. Shanni probably saw as much of Dafydd as she did. Every time Shanni stayed with Isabelle it seemed Dafydd was there too. Was he flattered by the attentions of a young and lovely girl?
She would be meeting Dafydd later that night and, at the thought, her heart fluttered in nervous excitement. Should she talk to him about Shanni’s infatuation for him? That was all it was, of course – Shanni was too young to be truly in love. Llinos could see wherein the attraction lay: as well as being handsome Dafydd was a man of courage, a hero. But there was no way he would look at Shanni as anything other than a child. Would he?
She forced her concentration back to her drawing but it was pointless: her pencil refused to move across the page. The sound of voices in the hall came as a welcome distraction. She lifted her head, her senses alert, as she recognized Joe’s tones.
Before she had time to rise from her chair he was in the room. ‘I want to talk to you,’ he said, closing the door firmly behind him.
‘Really?’ Llinos said, sarcasm evident in every nuance of her voice. ‘Should I be flattered?’
‘You have to stop this affair.’ Joe’s arms were folded across his chest. He was barring her way as though worried she might try to make her escape. ‘You are becoming the talk of the town.’
‘Fancy that!’ Llinos turned her back on him, unable to bear the hurt in her husband’s eyes. ‘That makes two of us, doesn’t it?’
‘Look, Llinos,’ he said, ‘I did you wrong and I am sorry for it, but it’s one thing for a man to have a mistress and quite another for a married woman to take a lover. You will have not one shred of reputation left if you continue to flout the rules of society.’
Llinos turned to face him. ‘How dare you tell me how to behave? You are the worst sort of philanderer. You are a man who makes excuses so that he can enjoy bedding another woman with an easy conscience.’
Joe sighed heavily. ‘Sho Ka never meant anything to me, not in the way you did.’
Llinos felt anger flare at the mention of the Indian’s name. Joe had lived openly with her on Llinos’s own doorstep, and now he was adding lying to his list of crimes.
‘I told you, I spoke to your lover.’ The words hung in the air and Llinos felt her shoulders tense. ‘I asked him to end this affair.’
Llinos rose quickly and walked over to where Joe was standing, exuding righteous indignation. She raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face. ‘How dare you!’ She was so angry that her voice came out as a croak.
‘You are my wife, or have you forgotten that?’ Joe’s words fell like chips of ice.
‘And you were my husband,’ Llinos said. ‘And I respected you until you killed my respect by taking that Indian squaw to your bed. You even bought a house to keep her and your bastard child in. What more could you do to betray me, Joe? Answer me that.’
He took a deep breath. He looked mighty and strong, and so very handsome. Why had he ruined everything between them?
‘Are you forgetting that you are speaking ill of the dead?’ His voice was husky.
‘No.’ Llinos sank back into her chair. ‘But I am very much alive, Joe, and I need love and comfort, and I need to know that the man I am with is faithful to me.’ She looked up at him. ‘I need that like parched ground needs water. You failed me, Joe. I want nothing more to do with you.’
She picked up her drawing pad and her hand was trembling. ‘Close the door on your way out.’
He left the room silently, like a whisper of the breeze, and as Llinos stared at the carved wooden panels of the door she grieved for all she had lost when Joe had given his body, perhaps his soul, to another woman.
But now she had Dafydd, and her heart rose at the prospect of seeing him, of lying in his arms feeling young again. She f
rowned. What would he think of Joe’s visit? Would he end their relationship? Would he be worried about the scandal if Joe challenged him openly? No. Dafydd was as brave a man as Joe. He would fight to the death for what he wanted.
She threw down her pencil. All the joy of the morning, of Binnie’s letter and her excitement at the prospect of seeing Dafydd that evening, had vanished like a puff of smoke. Between them, Joe and Shanni had taken away her peace of mind.
‘But you cannot let this affair of yours interfere with our plans.’ Isabelle sat in her drawing room staring up at Dafydd Buchan with indignation in every line of her body.
‘Isabelle, you enjoy having a lover, don’t you? Your Eynon Morton-Edwards courts you and you lie in his bed, so how can you blame me for wanting the love of a woman?’
‘There is a difference,’ she said, in a hard voice. ‘Neither Eynon nor I are married. Are you forgetting that?’
‘I’m forgetting nothing,’ Dafydd said mildly. ‘You are a single woman, as you point out, and you are intimate with a man who is not your husband. Not the behaviour of a lady, if you’ll pardon me saying so.’
He had a point and Isabelle inclined her head, conceding that he was right. ‘Let’s not argue about this,’ she said at last. ‘I have told you my opinion, and now we have far more important matters to consider.’
‘I know. Do you mind if I sit down?’
‘Of course not.’
The maid knocked and entered the room, holding a tray. The aroma of hot chocolate came with her and Dafydd sniffed appreciatively. ‘Something smells good.’ Isabelle returned his smile, knowing she was forgiven for intruding into what was, after all, his private life.
‘I think the next move is to attack the gates along the stretch of the Nant y Caws,’ he said quietly. ‘There are three gates in an area of only a mile. It’s disgraceful.’
‘But hopefully we can avoid a violent confrontation,’ she said, though in her heart she knew that violence was inevitable. She saw Dafydd’s raised eyebrows. ‘I know, it’s an impossible thing to ask. Knocking down and burning gates is bound to arouse protest from the keepers.’
She glanced at the clock, noting that she had barely an hour to get ready for dinner.
Dafydd saw her look. ‘Expecting visitors?’ he asked innocently.
‘That’s right.’ Isabelle smiled suddenly. ‘I’m expecting Eynon, as well you know. In any case, I’m sure you are in a hurry to meet your, your . . .’ Her voice trailed away into silence.
‘My lady-love,’ Dafydd supplied, his face sombre. ‘I’m in love with Llinos, I want her for my wife but that’s not possible while her faithless husband is alive.’
Isabelle rose and touched his shoulder. ‘Be careful, Dafydd. You’re a good friend and I would hate to see you hurt. Now, drink your chocolate and be off with you. I need at least an hour to make myself presentable.’
Dafydd drained his cup and rose to his feet, studying Isabelle with fresh eyes. She was a statuesque woman, her abundant hair fashioned into a bun at the back of her head with small tendrils hanging around her face. ‘No need for paint and powder, my dear Isabelle, you are lovely as you are.’ He kissed her cheek and made for the door. ‘I can see why your Eynon is so adoring.’
‘Go on with you and stop your flattery! And take care, Dafydd.’
She watched him ride away along the lane and her heart lightened. Soon she would be with her lover and she would put out of her mind all the ills of society. At least for the time being.
Llinos lay in Dafydd’s arms, staring through the window at the night sky. He had made love to her as always with a deep passion yet she felt unsettled. For the first time she wondered if what she and Dafydd had was simply a transient dream that would one day vanish as quickly as it had come.
‘You’re far away, Llinos.’ Dafydd brushed her long hair from her face and kissed her mouth lightly. ‘Not worried about that husband of yours, are you?’
‘I am. Just a little,’ she admitted. ‘What if he became violent?’
‘I can handle him.’ Dafydd spoke with the arrogance of the young. He had little knowledge of Joe’s prowess, his speed of foot, his strength. Dafydd was a brave man but he would be no match for Joe.
‘Still,’ Llinos said, ‘Joe’s not a violent man. I can’t think he would resort to pistols at dawn.’ Her voice was light, but who was she trying to convince? Herself or Dafydd?
‘Forget Joe.’ He kissed her lips, aroused once more, and Llinos turned into his arms determined to enjoy the sweetness of his touch.
He took her more gently, his hands caressing her naked skin, his mouth warm against her breasts. ‘I love you, Llinos,’ he said hoarsely, and she trembled, wondering at the power of the emotion she kindled in the man at her side.
Later, she leaned on her elbow and looked down into his face. He had the dreamy look of a man who had made love, and she adored him for it. How long was it since Joe had looked like that?
She touched his face lightly with her lips, aware of the responsibility she had for his happiness. She believed him when he told her he loved her. Dafydd was not the sort of man who used pretty words to flatter a woman.
‘Where are we going, Llinos?’ he said, sitting up and leaning back against the brass head-rail of the bed. He was so handsome but so completely the opposite to Joe.
‘What do you mean, my love?’ she said, but she knew exactly what he meant. Was she ready to face it? That was the question that worried at her in the still moments of the night.
‘I mean, when are we going to stop this pretence and set up home together? I don’t mean hurried visits but for us to live as man and wife.’ He smoothed her hair as she snuggled into the warmth of his shoulder.
‘I don’t know if I could do that to Lloyd,’ she said gently. ‘He still believes his father and I are in love.’
‘And are you?’
‘Dafydd, please don’t. I’m so confused with anger and uncertainty, I don’t know how to think straight any more.’ She frowned. ‘Am I standing in the way of your finding a good wife?’ she asked softly. ‘I can’t have any more children so we could never have a family of our own. You would be sacrificing a lot to be with me. We would have to move right away from Swansea, you know that, don’t you?’
‘So what?’ he said. ‘We could find a little farm in Carmarthen somewhere.’ He smiled. ‘Then I could still work the pottery and carry on my campaign with the rebels.’
Llinos watched the pale dawn poke fingers through the drapes, patterning the room with light and shade. Outside, the world would be waking, folk would be breaking their fast and preparing for work. It was strange how life continued normally around her while she was in turmoil.
‘Why don’t we wait until you have won the battle of the gates fairly and squarely?’ she suggested. ‘Perhaps then we should move away from Wales. We could even go to America, live near my old friend Binnie Dundee. He’s a potting man too.’
‘Ah, Llinos, I see you are not ready to make the final break from Joe,’ he said softly.
‘It’s not that!’ But even as she denied it she knew it was the truth. Was she ready to admit even to herself that her marriage to Joe was well and truly dead? If it was, why did she keep thinking about him?
When Dafydd had left her, she watched from the window as he rode his horse along the lane that led to the road to Llanelli. He needed to give more of his attention to his pottery, and they both knew it. The venture was still in its infancy and with Ceri Buchan still ill from his wounds it fell on Dafydd to make sure that nothing was left to chance.
Llinos asked the maid to boil water for a bath. Her nerves were taut and she felt she would fall apart into little pieces unless she managed to calm her mind. Later, as she luxuriated in warm water she studied her still slender body. The only change was that her breasts were fuller, standing proud now as the cold air touched her skin. She began to feel more optimistic: not only had she proved a passionate lover to Dafydd but she had helped him a great d
eal in his business. She had emphasized the need for good oven workers: the men who worked on the kilns needed knowledge and experience to build just the right temperatures for the successful firing of china.
She dressed slowly and sat before the mirror, brushing her hair into some sort of order. It was still thick and strong, curling on her shoulders and, in that moment, in the half-light, she looked like a young girl.
But she was no young girl. She was a middle-aged woman, and she should have more wisdom than to waste the life of a younger man, tying him to her when he should be looking for a wife.
Shanni’s declaration of love for Dafydd had shaken her. Several times she had almost broached the subject, hoping Dafydd would laugh it off, but in the end she had kept quiet, frightened that he would see the girl in a different light. He might realize that Shanni was no longer a girl but a beautiful young woman. ‘Damn!’ she said aloud. ‘Why is life so complicated?’ She stared at herself in the mirror. Suddenly she looked old, with shadows beneath her eyes and worry lines around her mouth.
She rose from the stool and took a deep breath. It was time she went home – and high time that she did some serious thinking about her future.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SHANNI LOOKED UP at Dafydd, her heart thudding with happiness. He was illuminated in a flash of the fading sun and he seemed exalted, a man with great things on his mind.
She was glad of the moment alone with him: Madame Isabelle was in the other room talking to Eynon Morton-Edwards. Shanni knew from experience that she would return flushed, looking like a woman in love. She wondered if the same expression of softness and joy was on her own face as Dafydd talked to her. She longed to declare her love for him, to beg him to treat her like a woman, but something told her this was not the time.
‘Pedr has been asking after you,’ Dafydd said. ‘I think he has a soft spot for our little rebel girl.’