Daughters of Rebecca

by Iris Gower

  She held his face in her hands and kissed his lips. She spoke through her tears. ‘And I can never let you go, never.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I will stay here with you always. I’ll never go back to the pottery. I won’t risk losing you, Dafydd, even if it means changing the whole pattern of my life.’

  Dafydd buried his face in her neck and they clung together like drowning souls.

  As the carriage drove away from the heat and smell of the pottery Binnie glanced back along the row, where doors stood open and women fought a constant battle against dust, and was happy to be leaving.

  Hortense was at his side, her hand resting on his thigh, her eyes bright with happiness because she was going home. Binnie had been lucky: a ship had been leaving the docks at Swansea to cross the Atlantic with room for passengers. Soon, the shores of Wales would be left behind. Out of the harbour, the sails would be unfurled and the wind would take the ship through the Bristol Channel and out to the open sea.

  ‘That was a strange visit, honey.’ Hortense stroked his thigh, and he was acutely aware of the warmth of her hand.

  He swallowed hard. He loved her so much, his Hortense, his wife. ‘I love you, Hortense,’ he said. ‘It’s strange how the troubles of others makes a soul realize that good fortune has smiled on them.’

  ‘I’m so sad about Joe,’ Hortense said. ‘I have never seen him so despairing, not even when he came to us after his woman and child died. How could Llinos leave him for another man?’

  ‘I don’t blame her,’ Binnie said defensively. ‘Joe was the first to stray, remember? He even brought the Indian woman here with him to Swansea, set her up in a house in the valley somewhere and sired a child on her. How did that make Llinos feel? Ask yourself that.’

  ‘No need to leap to Llinos’s defence,’ Hortense said mildly. ‘I am quite aware how she must have felt betrayed.’

  Her words were uncomfortably close to home and Binnie changed the subject. ‘I hope we have calm weather across the Atlantic,’ he said, glancing out of the window, as if the heavens could give him an answer.

  Hortense concealed a smile. She knew when Binnie was shamefaced about his own past behaviour. Simple soul that he was, he pushed it away from his mind, acting as though he had been a perfect husband all his life.

  She leaned against him and, without another word, he put his arm around her, his hand straying to her breast. Triumph flared through her. She might be a mature woman with grown sons, but she still had the power to arouse her husband.

  She snuggled closer to him. ‘I’ll sure be glad when we’re back on American soil again, honey,’ she said softly.

  ‘Why?’ he asked, with a hint of laughter in his voice.

  ‘Because, Binnie Dundee, then I can ravish you to my heart’s content.’ She sighed softly. She was going home and all was well with her world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ‘SO WHAT REALLY happened, then, Isabelle?’ Eynon was seated in the neat parlour in her house.

  She looked at him with admiration. He was so handsome, so much a gentleman. His long legs were stretched towards the fire and, in spite of his own opulent surroundings, he appeared completely at ease in her house. ‘There was some sort of confrontation. Joe Mainwaring created a scene and, from what I gather, it almost came to blows.’

  ‘So Joe caught them in bed together?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But if he knew they were lovers what made him suddenly boil over? In any case, after what he’s been up to he has no right to complain.’

  Isabelle looked at Eynon long and hard. ‘Llinos slept with her husband at least on one occasion after becoming intimate with Dafydd. Is that fair to either man?’

  Eynon was frowning. ‘No doubt she was coerced into sharing Joe’s bed. She wouldn’t have gone to him willingly – she was so hurt by the way he treated her.’

  ‘I know that you and Llinos have been friends for a very long time but I sometimes wonder if your feelings go beyond friendship.’ Isabelle was aware that her voice held a touch of asperity. ‘You seem to think Llinos can do no wrong.’

  ‘Look, Isa, I’m sad for both Joe and Llinos. Their love was so beautiful once, but it was Joe who wrecked the marriage and he must accept his responsibility for that.’

  Isabelle thought it politic to change the subject. ‘Have you seen anything of Shanni?’

  ‘No.’ Eynon shook his head. ‘I don’t know what the girl is going to do now that Llinos has moved out of the house.’

  ‘Is she living openly with Dafydd then?’ Isabelle was curious in spite of herself.

  ‘It seems so.’

  ‘Oh dear. Poor Shanni, she’s caught betwixt the devil and the deep blue sea, then. I worry about that girl.’

  ‘Why don’t you have her here for a while?’ Eynon said. ‘If it’s a question of money I’m sure I could help.’

  ‘You make everything sound so simple, and thank you, but it’s nothing to do with money.’

  ‘Well, then, it’s not very complicated just asking a pupil to stay, is it?’

  ‘Llinos thinks I’m a bad influence. I don’t think she’d like the thought of Shanni living here permanently.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think any of that matters now, if Llinos has left home.’

  He was right, of course. If Llinos had gone to live with Dafydd she would hardly care what Shanni did with her life. ‘You may have a point.’

  There was silence in the room, except for the shifting of the coals burning low in the grate. Isabelle looked at Eynon, who met her gaze and smiled. But was it the smile of a friend or a lover? Isabelle could not tell.

  Sometimes when they lay in bed satiated with love-making she believed he cared about her very much. But at other times, like today, she wondered if Llinos was his real love and she a poor second best.

  ‘When are we going to set a date for the wedding?’ Eynon asked.

  Startled, Isabelle looked down at her hands. Perhaps she should allow some time to elapse before she committed herself. She cared deeply about Eynon but she certainly did not want to tie him down if he was not sure of his love for her. ‘Soon, Eynon,’ she promised. She was older than Eynon by only a few years, but just then she felt ancient, as though she had the wisdom of the ages in her blood. She changed the subject again. ‘I think I’ll take your advice. If I write a letter inviting Shanni to stay, will you deliver it for me when you ride back to Swansea?’

  ‘Of course,’ Eynon said. ‘But I was hoping I might stay with you tonight. See? It’s growing dark, the rainclouds are closing in. Riding home to Swansea in such weather would be the death of me.’ He winked.

  She glanced up at him, happy to play the coquette. ‘Is the inclement weather the only reason you want to stay?’

  He came and knelt at her feet, his head resting against her breast. She touched his golden hair, tinged now with threads of silver, and her heart swelled with love. She must marry him because she could not bear to live without him.

  ‘Of course you can stay.’ She tipped his face up to hers. ‘And, Eynon, I will marry you as soon as ever you can make the arrangements.’

  She knew she was throwing caution to the wind but all her fears vanished as she bent and kissed his lips. His response was so warm, so passionate: surely she could not doubt that he loved her. Even if she should turn out to be second best wasn’t that preferable to living her life without love and the comfort of a man’s arms around her in the night? She kissed him again. ‘How about a little rest before supper?’ she whispered intimately in his ear. His hands were on her breasts, his mouth hot against her throat. Desire for him burned suddenly like a flaming beacon in the darkness. She wanted him, and he wanted her with equal urgency. Surely that was enough for any woman.

  ‘Mr Mainwaring.’ Shanni was hesitant about intruding into the study where Joe was packing a bag with papers. ‘May I speak to you?’

  ‘Of course you may. What is it?’

  ‘I’ve had an invitation to stay with Madame Isabelle, an
d in view of the situation here I think it wise I should go.’

  ‘You are probably right.’ Joe did not look up and his voice was casual, but Shanni knew he was not listening to what she was saying.

  ‘The thing is,’ Shanni hesitated, ‘I can’t get to Llanelli on my own. May I ask Graves to take me?’

  Joe waved his hand. ‘As you like.’ He looked up then. ‘I’m sorry, Shanni, I’m being thoughtless. Of course Graves must take you.’ He smiled but his eyes were shadowed. ‘You are a fine young lady now, and how would it look if you travelled alone?’

  Shanni stared down at her feet, suitably modest. If he knew of half the things she was up to he would hardly call her a lady. ‘Thank you very much, Mr Mainwaring.’

  She hesitated, and Joe looked at her questioningly. ‘Was there anything else, Shanni? I am in rather a hurry. I have a journey to make.’

  ‘I only wanted to say that you have my sympathy, Mr Mainwaring. How your wife could leave you for a man half her age I don’t know.’ Some of her bitterness erupted into her voice.

  Joe looked at her carefully. ‘Setting your cap at the man yourself, were you, Shanni?’ He was no fool, she realized. Mr Mainwaring was a man who could see into a woman’s soul. ‘If that is the case, I think you are better out of it. The man has no moral values.’ He regarded her steadily. ‘Another thing, Shanni, you would not enjoy a long and happy marriage to Buchan even if he did fall in love with you.’

  She was afraid to ask what he meant. Was Joe Mainwaring going to kill Dafydd? Panic rushed through her, and all at once she was anxious to be gone. ‘Thank you, sir, for your kindness.’ She hurried to the kitchen and told one of the younger maids to have Graves bring the carriage round. ‘It’s on Mr Mainwaring’s orders,’ she said, as the maid looked daggers at her.

  Upstairs, Shanni packed a few of her nicer clothes into a bag and glanced around the bedroom. She had come to think of it as her retreat, her own place where she could be alone. She would miss it.

  She felt a moment of sadness – she could not deny that Llinos had been good to her but all her kindness faded into insignificance against the fact that she had stolen Dafydd’s love. Llinos had no right to it, she was married, she should have left him alone. Then Dafydd might have seen that Shanni had grown up, had turned into a well-bred young woman.

  It was strange riding down Pottery Row not knowing if she would ever see it again. She was moving out of Swansea, perhaps for ever, and in spite of herself, she felt a tug at her heartstrings.

  As Graves drove through the streets of the town, Shanni drank in the familiar sights, the busy market where vendors offered their wares in raucous tones. She leaned out to see the cockle-women, baskets swinging from plump arms, black hats marking them out from the more elegant shoppers. She felt tears burn her eyes and rubbed them away impatiently. She was young, with her whole life before her: she should look to the future and be happy.

  Soon, the busy roads petered out to be replaced by narrow, hilly lanes. Shanni sank back in the coach, tired of watching the passing countryside, and closed her eyes. She thought of Dafydd, of his fine figure, his dark hair curling round his strong features, and in spite of her anguish she felt a thrill of pride that she knew this man who would one day set the world to rights.

  She must have dozed because she was suddenly conscious of the carriage jerking to a halt. She heard hoofs pawing the ground then Graves was opening the door and helping her out on to the dusty road.

  Isabelle was waiting in the immaculate hallway. She took Shanni in her arms and hugged her. ‘You are very welcome here, Shanni,’ she said. ‘Stay as long as you like. I’m pleased to have you.’

  For the first time it occurred to Shanni that she was throwing herself on Isabelle’s mercy. Shanni had no money of her own, no skills to equip her to earn her keep. She would be entirely dependent on Isabelle’s charity. It was a most unsettling feeling.

  Graves was taken to the kitchen for refreshment and Shanni watched his familiar figure as he walked away from the front door towards the back entrance. She felt a sense of loss – pain was not too strong a word for it. She had left behind all she had known and thrown herself on the charity of a woman who needed to work for a living. Was she being fair to Madame Isabelle?

  ‘Come in, Shanni,’ Madame smiled, ‘and, for heaven’s sake, take that glum look off your face. This isn’t the end of the world, you know.’

  ‘I’m not ungrateful, Madame,’ Shanni said quickly, ‘and I do realize that I’m imposing on you. I can’t live on your charity for ever. I’ll have to find an occupation and earn my own living.’

  Shanni had no idea what sort of work she was suited for. She would hate to be in service as a maid-of-all-work, especially after the luxury she had enjoyed in the Mainwaring household. A shop, then? That idea did not appeal either.

  Madame’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘We can think about all that later. Now you must settle yourself in, hang up your clothes and make sure you have water in the jug on your table.’ She smiled. ‘I’m afraid you won’t be able to live to the standards you’ve come to expect in Swansea, though.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m not rich, as you know, but what I have I will share with you wholeheartedly.’

  On an impulse Shanni hugged her. Madame smelt of lavender and fresh roses. She returned Shanni’s hug then released her.

  ‘Right, enough of this sentimentality. Come and sit down. We’ll have tea in a moment – I’m sure you’re hungry.’

  ‘Have you seen anything of Dafydd?’ Shanni asked. Madame Isabelle looked at her, eyebrows raised.

  ‘He is rather too busy with his lady-love to spare the time to visit old friends.’ There was an edge of bitterness in her voice. ‘I am a little worried he’ll neglect the cause for which we have fought long and hard.’

  ‘Surely he won’t do that!’ Shanni said. She wondered if she should tell Madame about Joe’s strange remark. He had insinuated that Dafydd would not remain long on this earth to enjoy Llinos’s company. Almost at once she dismissed the idea. Joe was going away. He was probably very angry, and angry men said things they did not mean.

  ‘Dafydd is very wrapped up in himself and his love for a married woman just now,’ Isabelle said. ‘You do know that he and Llinos Mainwaring are living together, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do! I’ve known for a long time they were involved with each other.’ She remembered the day as if it were yesterday. She had been shopping with Llinos and they had met Dafydd by accident. Or perhaps it had been by design?

  ‘We had tea together,’ she said. ‘I was so embarrassed by the way they were staring into each other’s eyes that I just walked out and left them to it. I can’t understand how a woman like Llinos Mainwaring could be so lacking in moral scruples.’

  ‘Don’t be so quick to judge, and keep your voice down.’ Madame Isabelle put her finger to her lips as the maid rapped on the door and entered almost immediately with the tea tray.

  ‘Put the tray there, Sarah,’ Isabelle said. ‘Shanni, will you pour, dear?’ Isabelle waited until the maid had left the room then leaned forward in her chair. ‘Anyway, let’s talk about happier topics, shall we?’ She smiled, and in that moment Shanni realized that Madame Isabelle was very beautiful for her age. ‘I have had a proposal of marriage. What do you think of that?’

  ‘Oh, Madame, I am so pleased for you!’ Shanni did her best to appear happy at the unexpected news, but she could hardly help wondering what would become of her when Isabelle took a husband.

  ‘I shall be very happy to be Mrs Eynon Morton-Edwards.’ Madame’s eyes were misty. ‘I will have to buy some new clothes, a bridal dress – a discreet gown, of course. You must come with me and advise me, Shanni.’

  Shanni stared at her. It was strange that a woman of her mature years would want to marry at all. ‘Have you set the date for the wedding yet?’ Shanni asked, a little anxiously.

  ‘Not exactly, but it won’t be for a few months yet, I shouldn’t think.’ Isabell
e appeared to hug herself. ‘But I hope I will not have too long to wait.’

  Shanni wondered if Madame would forget the cause of the poor farmers once she was Mrs Morton-Edwards. The problems of the toll-gates seemed to have been washed from her mind.

  This was the very accusation she had levelled against Dafydd, and here she was, acting in exactly the same way, putting herself first.

  Madame Isabelle seemed to pick up on her thoughts. ‘Dafydd has been persuaded to come over tonight, Shanni. Perhaps then we shall get some sense out of him. I want to know what his plans are. We must still fight to reduce the price of the tolls.’

  Shanni’s heart missed a beat. Just the mention of Dafydd’s name was enough to make her tremble. Perhaps one day he would come to his senses and realize that Llinos Mainwaring was far too old for him. All at once she was filled with resentment. Here she was, a young and by now well-educated young lady, with no suitable beau to come calling on her, while older women like Llinos Mainwaring and Madame Isabelle seemed to have everything they wanted.

  ‘Why so glum?’ Madame Isabelle asked, taking a muffin from the plate. ‘Not worrying about your own chances of marriage, are you?’

  ‘Well, yes, I am.’ Shanni thought it best to tell the truth. ‘The only one who seems to like me is Pedr, and he isn’t really suitable, is he?’

  Madame Isabelle looked steadily at her plate. ‘Why do you say that?’

  Shanni was aware of the strange note in the other woman’s voice and knew that she had sounded disparaging. ‘It’s not that I don’t like him but he wants different things from life.’

  ‘I see.’

  Shanni had the feeling that she saw all too clearly. ‘Apart from which I’m in love with someone else, someone I can’t have.’

  ‘I know.’ Madame Isabelle smiled then. ‘But you are very young. The young fall in and out of love a dozen times before they settle.’ She took another bite from her muffin and the butter spilled on to the front of her gown. ‘Damn!’ She brushed at the stain ineffectually. ‘Now I’ll have to change. And so will you.’ She looked at Shanni’s dusty boots. ‘After tea you must go to your room and find yourself something nice to wear. We must look our best by the time my guests arrive for supper.’