by Iris Gower
‘So the baby might be Joe’s?’ There was disbelief in Dafydd’s eyes and he turned away from her, his shoulders hunched. ‘I never thought . . . I don’t understand . . . How could I have been so dense?’
He strode back and forth across the room. ‘Llinos, how could you let me go on believing we were to have a child between us? You should have been honest from the start.’
‘I’m so sorry. Dafydd, don’t get angry, please.’
‘How am I supposed to feel?’ The words seemed dragged from his lips. He turned to look directly at her and it was as though he had never seen her before.
‘You might be the father, Dafydd, I just don’t know. I only slept with Joe that one night, so the baby is probably yours.’
Dafydd’s face set in hard lines. ‘Oh, thank you! Am I supposed to be grateful that you only slept with him once?’
‘Dafydd, don’t take it like that.’
‘How am I supposed to take it?’ She had never seen him so angry. ‘The thought of you and Joe being together was just bearable, but how can you expect me to be father to a child by another man?’
His forehead furrowed. ‘What sort of woman are you, Llinos? I don’t know what to think any more. Have you ever truly loved me?’
‘Of course I have! Dafydd, I’m so sorry.’ Tears welled in her eyes and she made no attempt to wipe them away. ‘I’ve behaved badly, I don’t need anyone to tell me that.’
‘Well, your apology doesn’t put anything right, not for me.’ His voice was low. ‘I think I hate you, Llinos, do you know that? How can I bear the humiliation of it all? Tell me that.’
Llinos stared at him miserably. He was a proud young man and she was causing him such grief. Or was it pride talking when he berated her, the silly male pride of possession, of needing to be in control?
He moved towards the door. ‘I’m going out. I have never hit a woman and I don’t intend to start now.’ He paused, his hand on the latch. ‘Do you know, Llinos? I realize now what it’s like to have murder in your heart.’
Suddenly Llinos was as angry as he was. ‘Dafydd, you have murder in your heart every time you go to a meeting of the Rebeccarites!’ she said. ‘You can’t deny it. You need the excitement of the fight.’ And he did. He was a rebel because he liked the feeling of power it gave him. He could have lived his life as a respectable businessman but that was too tame for him.
‘I’m going out.’ His voice was hard. ‘Don’t be here when I get back.’ He left the room, and Llinos heard him clattering down the stairs. She stared through the window, trying to catch a glimpse of him. She was heartsick and confused. Should she follow him?
There was a knock on the door and Llinos felt a glimmer of hope. Had Dafydd come back? But it was Shanni Price who pushed her way into the room, and Llinos looked at her in startled surprise.
‘Shanni, what on earth are you doing here?’ Llinos’s voice was hard as she tried to swallow her tears.
‘I’m not going to bed with a lover, not like some people.’ Shanni was white with anger, her small hands were clenched into fists.
‘Why have you travelled to Carmarthen?’ Llinos retorted angrily. ‘Are you following me?’
‘I’ve just come to tell you to leave Dafydd alone before it’s too late.’ Shanni stood against the door and it was clear she intended to have her say. ‘You are putting Dafydd in danger. The men are turning against him because of you.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Llinos tried to gather her wits, confused by the turn of the conversation. ‘How am I putting him in danger?’
‘He has let the men down more than once just to satisfy you. It was because of you that Ceri Buchan got injured. Dafydd should have been leading the men that night, he would have kept them in check. But, no, he had to be with you.’ There was a world of scorn in Shanni’s voice as she stared at Llinos with cold dislike. ‘That’s all I wanted to say. Keep out of Dafydd’s life. Stay away from him before it’s too late.’
Shanni flung open the door and Llinos heard her quick, light steps on the stairs. She closed the door, her heart beating so fast she felt breathless. She sat on the bed, her legs suddenly refusing to support her. She knew Dafydd was in danger every time he rode with the Daughters of Rebecca but she had never considered that she was making things worse for him.
She got up from the bed, and forced herself to think calmly. She must find Dafydd and convince him that the venture was too dangerous. She took her cloak out of the cupboard and swung it round her shoulders. She would go after him, stop him going into Carmarthen, even if it meant begging him on bended knee.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror. What a mess she had made of her life. Here she was in a shoddy room, sharing it with a lover. She was pale, her eyes wide with fear, and her pride was in the dust – but she knew she would do anything for Dafydd if only he would say he still loved her.
She opened the door and paused, taking one last look around the room where she and Dafydd had made love, perhaps for the last time, and her heart was heavy.
‘Where on earth have you been, Shanni?’ Madame Isabelle’s face was white. ‘This is no time to go missing. We’re strangers here, remember, and in any case, I am not comfortable sitting alone in a coaching inn. Where’s your sense, Shanni?’
‘I’ve just been to the privy,’ Shanni said, afraid to tell her the truth. The landlord’s son had been eager to talk to her, and what he had to say had been most interesting. It was because of him that she knew Dafydd had been here, and that whore Llinos Mainwaring with him.
‘Thank goodness Eynon brought me back from the trip sooner than we had intended,’ Isabelle said. ‘I’m only away for a few days and all hell breaks loose. It’s madness! The men must be out of their minds to think of attacking the Union Workhouse.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘I heard the landlord say that the militia have been alerted. The men will all be killed.’
Shanni stared at Isabelle, her heart thumping with fear. She had always known that Dafydd was involved in a dangerous struggle but now the danger was a reality.
‘That long coach ride from Swansea has given me bone-ache,’ Isabelle rubbed her back, ‘and I still don’t know if I was wise to bring you along. I don’t even know if we’ll do any good by being here.’
‘We will, you’ll see, and you had to bring me,’ Shanni said. ‘I remember how I used to talk when I lived in the slums and your voice would give you away at once.’
‘Quite so,’ Madame Isabelle said. ‘Oh dear! What my husband will make of my absence I don’t know, but I have to try to stop this madness.’ She rubbed her brow. ‘Look, we’ll try to head the men off, warn them they might be ambushed. Cover your hair, Shanni, so that no-one can recognize you.’
Shanni leaned closer to her. ‘Do you see that boy over there? Well, I talked to him when I was outside. He was saying that five hundred men are riding on horseback into Carmarthen and many more are on foot. He thinks they’re making for the workhouse.’
She sat back against the warm wood of the oak settle, feeling smug. She knew more about the riot than Madame Isabelle ever would. She knew how brave Dafydd was. He was a man she would be proud to have as a husband – she would love him all her days. But he was way above her in social position and she knew it. Even now, as a property owner, she was not cut from the same mould as Dafydd Buchan. He was a gentleman born and bred and she was a child from the slums of Swansea.
Shanni felt downhearted. She knew in her gut that Dafydd would never be hers. ‘Curse Llinos Mainwaring!’ she said, under her breath. ‘If anything happens to Dafydd, it will all be her fault.’
‘Stop muttering and pay attention,’ Madame Isabelle said. ‘I think we’d better be leaving.’
Shanni pulled up her hood and tried to be calm, but it was impossible. Excitement and fear burned within her, and she knew that this was going to be the most important moment in her life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
LLINOS LEFT HER room and picked her way carefully d
own the stairs of the inn. She had spent a sleepless night searching for answers. Could Dafydd forgive her enough to bring up the child even if it was Joe’s? Somehow she doubted it.
She would have to find him, though, talk to him again, tell him she loved him. She must try to convince him that attacking the workhouse was a lost cause, that it might damage the efforts of the Rebeccarites, not further them.
She paused on the rickety stairs, trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings, but she found it difficult to come to any sensible conclusions about her future and the future of her child. How foolish she had been to burden Dafydd with her doubts. He was so upset he might rush headlong into the fray not caring if he lived or died. She should have waited until the time was right to tell him. But she had the dismal feeling that the time would never have been right.
As she neared the public rooms she heard the sound of a familiar voice and realized that Shanni was still at the inn, but who was with her? Llinos peered round the door and saw Shanni seated with Madame Isabelle at one of the beer-stained tables.
As Llinos watched, Isabelle stood up and Shanni tugged at her hood in an effort to cover her bright hair. They were going to leave, and Llinos knew at once where they were going. She followed them outside into the brightness of the day. The sun was hot, though a cooling breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. Overhead, light clouds raced across the sky with the promise of rain to come.
Ahead of her, Isabelle paused to loosen her cloak and Llinos took her courage in both hands. ‘Isabelle, wait,’ she called. ‘I’m coming with you.’
She caught up with Isabelle and clung to her arm. ‘Please, I have to come with you.’
Coolly Isabelle disengaged herself. ‘Dafydd’s mind hasn’t been on the cause since he began his affair with you.’ She spoke icily. ‘Had he been his usual sharp self he would know his plan had been discovered.’
‘Discovered? What do you mean?’ Llinos felt as though a heavy weight was pressing on her chest.
‘I mean that the dragoons will be riding into town with sabres at the ready.’ Isabelle’s tone sharpened. ‘You’ve done enough harm, and I don’t think this is the place for you, Mrs Mainwaring. Why don’t you go home?’
‘I can’t go home,’ Llinos said. ‘I feel in my heart that Dafydd will need me before the day is over, and your words have only added to my fears.’
‘I haven’t time to argue with you, so come if you must,’ Isabelle said. ‘But on your own head be it.’
Shanni’s mouth was tightly closed. She stared mutinously at Llinos, hostility in every line of her slender body. Llinos tried to talk to her. ‘Shanni, we must work together to save Dafydd, don’t you understand that?’ Shanni turned away without replying. Damn her! Llinos was worried enough without Shanni venting her spleen on her.
The walk to town was a short one and soon Isabelle led the way through Water Street gate. Faintly at first on the summer air came the sound of drums and Llinos’s heart missed a beat: Isabelle was right, the soldiers were on the march against the rebels.
Llinos pushed her way through the crowd, trying to keep up with Isabelle. The roadways thronged with people; the procession of rioters was already under way. She glanced up at the sun: it was overhead – it must be almost noon.
‘Well,’ Isabelle paused to speak to Llinos, ‘there are lots of people about but no sign of violence. Hopefully the attack has been called off. Why don’t you go back to the inn, Mrs Mainwaring? Wait there. You are in no condition to be walking about town.’ Isabelle’s voice was more kindly and Llinos bit her lip.
‘I just have to be with him, whatever the outcome.’ Llinos took a deep breath. She wanted to believe that everything was going to be all right yet in her heart she knew that the day boded nothing but ill. ‘I can’t wait on the sidelines, not knowing what’s happening.’
Suddenly, the throng of spectators began to run. ‘Come on!’ Shanni cried. ‘We mustn’t get left behind.’
Llinos followed Shanni and Isabelle through Red Street to where the grim walls of the Union Workhouse stood out from the rest of the buildings. Her heart sank: some of the rioters were already hammering on the wooden doors with pickaxes and stout oak branches.
Llinos looked frantically around for Dafydd. He would be dressed in the clothes of Rebecca, wearing a horsehair wig of ringlets. His face, like that of most of the rioters, would be blackened with coal dust. Her heart was pounding and she lost sight of Isabelle, but Shanni’s red hair was visible just ahead.
There was a sudden crash as the gates gave way, then the throng were in the workhouse yard screaming, waving cudgels and pushing aside anyone who stood in their way.
The matron came bustling out of the door, her face red. ‘Stop this, you men!’ she called, but she was pushed up against a wall and Llinos could hear her protests as her keys were snatched from her.
‘Please, you men, leave the little ones be,’ the matron begged, as the children screamed in fear.
‘We are here to set them free,’ one man shouted, above the crowd. ‘Let the children go, boys.’
‘They have no homes to go to!’ the matron protested, but she was forced away from the doors and Llinos lost sight of her.
‘That’s Pedr’s voice I can hear.’ Isabelle was suddenly close to Llinos, straining to see above the heads of the crowd. ‘That means Dafydd is not far away. This is a dreadful day for all of us, Mrs Mainwaring, and you have to take some of the blame for it.’
Before Llinos could reply a voice rang out above the crowd. ‘Stop this!’ She saw a man climbing on to a bench, his hands held aloft. Her heart missed a beat as she recognized the tall figure and stern face of her husband.
‘Joe!’ His name escaped her lips like a sigh.
‘Listen to me, men!’ he shouted. ‘Your cause might be just, but if you turn these children loose they will starve to death in the streets. Can’t you understand that?’
‘Get out of the way or you’ll be killed!’ One of the rioters raised a stick, but Joe stood his ground. Llinos gasped in fear. Joe had come all this way and she knew that even now he wanted to protect her.
‘What good would it do to kill me?’ Joe shouted. ‘I am here to help you. The dragoons are in town! Run while you can!’
Some of the men were hesitating, mumbling among themselves, but a strange silence fell as Joe spoke again.
‘I am speaking the truth. The military have been warned of the riot, they will be here any minute now. I beg you to go home before any blood is shed.’
One of the protestors cheered him. Several men on horseback turned to leave the workhouse yard. Llinos leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. She was in no condition to be rushing about, pushing her way through the crowds.
‘Don’t listen to him, men! Fight on, I say!’ Dafydd’s voice cut through Llinos like a knife and she looked up, startled. Why did he want to continue with the battle? Could he not see that all was lost?
‘We can’t give up! We’ve got a long way to go yet!’ Dafydd climbed up on the bench to stand beside Joe. Llinos stared at them, the two men in her life, facing each other in open enmity. Dafydd was still dressed in the clothes of Rebecca. Now he tore aside the wig and bonnet and rubbed away the soot on his face. ‘Clear off, man,’ he said to Joe. ‘You don’t belong here, you’re not one of us.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Llinos tried to push her way through the crowd towards her husband. She must reach him before Dafydd tried to kill him. Suddenly she heard a blood-curdling scream and stopped abruptly. She glanced round fearfully to see the men of the Light Dragoons bearing down on her, cutting a way through the throng with raised swords. One man had his hand raised to save himself and his arm was severed. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony.
Llinos found a pathway through the crowd, desperation lending her strength, but both Joe and Dafydd had disappeared from sight. As Llinos drew nearer to the workhouse door she saw Isabelle standing there, rooted to the spot, her eyes wide with fear.
‘
Isabelle! Look out!’ Llinos screamed. One of the rebels was standing over her, a thick stick in his hand, his face a mask of hatred. He brought the stick down on Isabelle’s head, and blood began to run down her cheek.
‘Murderer! You killed my brother!’ The man was hysterical. ‘You shot Thomas Carpenter dead and got away with it. Well, now is the time for me to avenge him.’
He raised the stick and hit Isabelle again and again, battering her to the ground. Her still body lay spreadeagled against the workhouse wall.
‘Oh, Isabelle!’ Llinos tried to reach her but she was thrust aside as the crowd surged forward, trying to escape the dragoons.
‘No!’ Llinos cried, but there was nothing she could do as Isabelle was trampled beneath the pounding hoofs of the horses. She turned away, feeling sick.
Abruptly, Shanni was beside Llinos, tugging at her arm. ‘Come on, we’ve got to get away.’
‘No, leave me alone,’ Llinos said. ‘You run if you must.’
‘I’ve no time to argue but, believe me, Dafydd wants you to be taken to a place of safety. Pedr’s got some horses. He’ll take us away and then come back for Dafydd.’
‘No, I can’t leave, not until I know what’s happened to Joe.’ Llinos was cold with fear. ‘I can’t go, I just can’t!’
Pedr reached down and lifted Shanni on to the saddle in front of him. ‘Isabelle’s dead,’ he shouted, ‘and the dragoons are killing everyone in sight. Get out of here, Mrs Mainwaring, while you can.’
‘No, I can’t.’ Llinos stood there, shaking her head, and Pedr did not wait any longer. He urged his terrified horse on through the crowd and rode at high speed around the grim walls of the workhouse.
Someone pushed Llinos forward and she fell on to her knees. She began to sob. She would never find Joe and they would both die here in the workhouse yard with a mob of rioters. He might even now be lying injured, even dead, somewhere. ‘Oh, dear God, spare him!’ she whispered.
She tried to rise but there were people all around her, rebels and dragoons fighting to the death. ‘Llinos, my little love.’ She was dragged to her feet and turned to look into Dafydd’s face. A sense of deep disappointment filled her, and she knew in that moment she loved Joe in a way she would never love Dafydd.