by Iris Gower
‘I’m working here,’ Arian stepped back and allowed Eline into the hallway. ‘I suppose I’m a servant. I do any and every job that is asked of me.’
‘Oh Arian, and you showed such promise when you worked for me,’ Eline said. ‘Surely you can find something better than this?’
Arian shook her head. ‘A lot has happened to me since I was in charge of your workshop, you must know that, Eline. Anyway, Lord Temple was kind enough to take me in when I was desperate. I’m grateful now for a roof over my head and some warm food in my belly.’
Eline sighed. ‘You’ve had a bad time of it, Arian, but I don’t suppose you want to be reminded of it. Is Calvin at home? I must see him.’ She wondered briefly if Arian was warming Calvin’s bed. From what she remembered, Arian had hot blood in her veins; she had fallen under the spell of Price Davies quickly enough. But that thought was uncharitable and, to be fair, Arian had been eager to learn from Price Davies; she had learned as much about the shoe trade as the cobbler was willing to teach her. Of course that was before everything went sour on her, before the strange fire at the farmhouse in the hills, the full story of which even now was shrouded in mystery.
Eline chided herself. Who was she to judge Arian or anyone else, come to that? She was living in sin with Will and with a baby borne to one man while she was married to another. Not exactly a pillar of moral rectitude was she?
‘He is in,’ Arian’s voice broke into Eline’s thoughts. ‘Shall I tell him you’re here?’ She looked curiously at Eline. It was clear she knew what had happened between the couple, everyone in Swansea probably knew about the way Calvin had thrown his wife out with little but the clothes she stood up in.
‘Where is he?’ Eline asked softly. ‘I don’t want him to have the chance to turn me away without hearing me out.’
‘In the library, I think,’ Arian said quietly. ‘But don’t tell him I was the one who let you in.’
Her heart was beating swiftly as Eline made her way across the polished floor of the hall towards the double doors of the library. Her hand, reaching for the door knob, was trembling.
Calvin rose to his feet as she entered the room, the pen still in his hand. ‘What are you doing here?’ His voice was hostile, his eyes unfathomable.
‘I’m sorry,’ Eline said, ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t see me if I was announced.’
‘Your fears are well founded. What do you want?’
‘To talk about the divorce. You are still going ahead with it aren’t you?’
‘Why?’ Calvin said bitterly. He moved closer to her. ‘Not regretting leaving me are you, Eline?’
She looked down at her hands. ‘I hurt you, Calvin. You are a fine, decent man. You deserved better.’
He caught her shoulders abruptly and drew her close, his mouth hovering above hers. ‘You are tired of your life of poverty, you want to come back to Stormhill Manor, is that it?’
She shook her head. ‘No, my home is one room in World’s End and that’s just where I want to be.’
She saw him flinch. He was frowning as he released her abruptly. ‘What then, is it money you want? Your motive in coming here is not one of love and I see no regret in your eyes. Clearly you are happy as you are. Surely you haven’t come just to ask futile questions?’
‘I don’t want your money, Calvin. We don’t live well but we manage. I just want to know when the divorce will be over and done with, that’s all.’
‘So that you can marry your cobbler, is that it?’ Calvin said fiercely. ‘What if I were to deny you, Eline, keep you tied to me?’ He turned and caught her close to him once more.
‘You are a fool coming here. I could claim my conjugal rights and not one man in the world would blame me.’ His voice was harsh.
Eline looked up at him without fear. ‘You won’t do that, Calvin, you are far too much of a gentleman to force yourself on any woman, especially me.’
His mouth came down on hers, crushing, bruising, and he held her close to him. There was no tenderness in him and yet Eline felt no fear, simply pain that she had wounded Calvin yet again.
She drew away from him. ‘I’m sorry, I was wrong to come,’ she said. ‘I have no right to ask you anything.’
She walked to the door, her head high and Calvin’s voice stopped her.
‘Eline, you will have your divorce, I’ve set the process into motion. It’s only a matter of months and then you will be free to marry your cobbler. One thing more, I have disowned your son. If you wanted to fight me in a court of law I dare say you would have grounds, the boy was born in wedlock after all.’
Eline turned and looked at him. ‘I think you know that I won’t fight it. I accept you have no responsibility for him.’ Her voice faded as she saw his pain. ‘I’ve done enough to you. All I hope is that one day you will find someone else to be happy with.’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘I love you, Eline,’ he said and there was a note of despair in his voice. ‘I’ve tried to conceal that fact from myself but now that I have seen you again, held you in my arms … For Christ’s sake why are you torturing me, just get out of my sight.’
She left the house quickly, tears burning her eyes. She had her answer, she would soon be free but at what cost? She hurried down the drive, no longer revelling in the soft sounds and sights of spring. She had ruined Calvin’s life by her faithlessness and that was something she would never be able to forget.
That evening, Will sensed something of her mood and took her gently in his arms, pushed back her hair and looked down into her eyes.
‘What is it, Eline, why the long face?’ He pressed his lips against hers for a brief moment and then held her away from him. ‘Tell me, I know something is worrying you.’
‘You are not going to like it,’ Eline said softly. ‘Promise you won’t be angry.’
‘Come on, stop prevaricating,’ Will said, ‘spit it out. I’m not going to take up wife-beating just yet.’
‘I went to see Calvin today.’ Her words seemed to fall into a well of silence and Eline almost felt the tightening of Will’s muscles.
Very slowly he released her and moved away, standing at the window although it was far too dark to see anything out in the yard.
‘Why?’ The word seemed hard, flint-like, and Eline moved to Will and put her arms around his waist, resting her head against his broad back.
‘I just wanted to know when I would be free,’ she said almost pleadingly. ‘The divorce, it should be over within weeks so Calvin said.’
‘And what else did Calvin say?’ Will’s voice held a chill. ‘Did he ask you to come back to him? Did he tell you he still wanted you?’
‘Please, Will, I meant it for the best but I see now it was a mistake,’ Eline said quickly, fear sending wings of pain through her.
Will turned suddenly and pushed her away from him. ‘He did, don’t deny it, he said he wanted you. Did he hold you in his arms, did he kiss you Eline?’
‘No,’ she said miserably, aware that she did not want to lie to Will but too afraid to explain what really happened.
‘He did, he held you, tried to persuade you to go back to him.’ Will’s voice was low, ‘Don’t lie to me, Eline, please. This is too important.’
‘Yes, yes!’ she said. ‘He said he loved me still, he held me and kissed me but I didn’t consent to it, I told him it was you I wanted. Will …’ She held her arms to him pleadingly, ‘Please Will, I’m sorry I went there. It was foolish but I didn’t mean anything to happen.’
‘You could have rebuffed him,’ Will said. ‘You could have done many things but you didn’t, did you?’
‘Will, I felt sorry for him, he is still my husband after all.’ Immediately the words were spoken Eline knew they should never have been said. Will’s face turned white, his jaw tightened and his eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul.
‘So, you felt sorry for him, he is still your husband and did he claim his rights over you, did your pity extend to the bedroom, Eline, did it?’
‘No
!’ Her voice was ragged, ‘No Will, how could you even suggest it?’
‘You let him hold you and kiss you and you felt sorry for him. You’ve just told me that the man is still your husband so why shouldn’t you indulge in a little lovemaking to pass an afternoon? How can I believe anything you say, Eline?’
‘I hate you!’ Eline said fiercely. ‘I hate you Will Davies, seeing how little faith you have in me. I’m sorry I ever came to live with you.’
Will stared at her for a long moment and then, without another word, picked up his hat and coat and left the room. Eline heard his footsteps ringing on the cobbled yard outside, she heard the slam of the gate as if it was a death knell and then there was silence except for the ticking of the clock and the shifting of coals in the grate.
She sank into a chair and put her face in her hands. The tears came hot and bitter and, after a moment, she put her head down on her arms and the sobs racked her body.
Later, she rose and washed her face and patted her hot cheeks with the towel, and misery washed over her afresh. She had made two men unhappy today; the man she was married to and the man she loved, quite a record by anyone’s standards.
She pushed the kettle onto the flames and made herself some hot tea, then climbed onto the bed beside the sleeping form of her son.
‘Emlyn,’ she said softly, ‘your mother is a foolish woman. I wish I was wise and sensible but I’m not, I’m nothing at all without your father.’
She looked at the clock, the public bars would be closing and soon now, surely quite soon, Will would be home. To pass the time, she washed and brushed her hair and then pulled on her nightgown. She climbed onto the bed again and stared at the flickering lamp; it was running low on oil, soon it would go out and then, by then, Will would definitely be home.
But the lamp flickered and fizzled and went out and the smell of oil hung in the air. Now there was just the light from the fire and Eline stared at the embers of coal as if they could give her hope.
The sound of singing came from the street and then faded into the distance, the last of the revellers had gone home to their wives and their beds. She had to face it, Will was not coming home, not tonight or any night, he had finished with her, he had believed the worst and had put as much distance between them as possible.
She snuggled down beside the baby and held his warmth against her breast. Tears came afresh and ran salt into her mouth and Eline’s sense of despair plumbed new depths. She was no good without Will, she was half a person, she would be unable to function without him.
She turned her face into the pillow to muffle her sobs but crying didn’t ease the ache inside her. ‘Oh Will,’ she whispered, ‘please come back, I can’t live without you.’
At last, she fell into an exhausted sleep, and when she woke, in the early hours of the morning, the place where Will slept beside her was empty.
CHAPTER THREE
Arian’s back ached, the floor under her knees was hard and the water in the bucket at her side was rapidly cooling, making cleaning the slate flags of the huge kitchen doubly difficult. After only a few weeks at Stormhill, she was finding the menial work tiresome.
Lord Temple employed only a skeleton staff; it seemed that on the departure of his wife, he had sacked most of the servants, anyone who could remind him of the happier days of his marriage. Later, he had taken on just those who were essential to the running of the manor, a cook, and a housekeeper. Bella, the maid, was the only one he had retained from the old staff and that, she claimed, was because he felt sorry for her. She was so clumsy that it was doubtful she would find a position elsewhere.
Mrs Richards was a grey figure, her title was of housekeeper but like everyone else in Stormhill Manor, she took on more than one role. Her duties kept her above stairs, she saw that the bedrooms were cleaned and the sheets fresh on the master’s bed. She instructed Bella in the correct method of placing coals in the grates to obtain the maximum heat at the minimum of expense, for the accounts too, were her province. Mrs Richards prided herself on saving money even though it was apparent that Lord Temple was very wealthy.
‘A penny saved is a penny earned,’ she was fond of saying though the rest of the servants were not quite sure what she meant by that. However, Mrs Richards was perceived as being very wise and so her words were listened to with respect.
Mrs Bob was the mainstay of the household, she ruled the kitchen with good humour and as much hard work as her age would allow. She was a fine cook and had learned to make meals that were nourishing and easy to serve, adding the garnishes and sauces that gave the appearance of much time spent over the range but which, in reality took only minutes to prepare. Now, with the coming of Arian, the burden of running a huge manor house was lightened somewhat, though Stormhill Manor warranted a full complement of servants to do it justice.
‘Arian, leave that floor for a minute and come by here, will you? Mrs Bob sounded flustered. She was cooking her favourite dinner of breast of lamb which, with a brisk fire, took only an hour to roast. ‘Watch the joint for me while I make some mint sauce. And mind you keep the meat open to the air,’ she instructed. ‘No popping it into the oven otherwise it will be baked, not roasted.’ She paused. ‘It might be as well to remember any hints I pass on because one day you might be cook here instead of me.’
She was using the old spit instead of the oven and the fat crackled against the coals sending out a tantalizing aroma of lamb. Arian realized she was hungry. She wiped her hands on her apron, waiting patiently for Mrs Bob to explain what she wanted from her.
‘There,’ she said at last, her face flushed as she moved from the table where she’d been expertly cutting mint, back to the fire, ‘now I need some red wine and some vinegar. Fetch a bottle from the cellar, will you girl?
Arian picked up her bucket and cloth, the floor would have to do for now. In any case, it would be done afresh tomorrow and hopefully then it would be Bella’s turn.
She swished the dirty water in the yard and held her hands, one by one under the old, creaking pump, working the handle with difficulty. She looked at her fingers; they were wrinkled like prunes, reddened and rough now, the nails chipped and ragged. She sighed, at least she had a roof over her head, a bed to sleep in and a belly full of good food.
It was cold and dank in the cellar and Arian fetched the wine quickly, hurrying back up the stone steps to the warmth of the kitchen.
Mrs Bob didn’t turn from her table where she was clarifying honey for the pudding. ‘Mix two glasses of the wine with one glass of vinegar and a few spoonfuls of cullis.’
‘Cullis?’ Arian asked, ‘What’s that?’
‘Duw girl, don’t you know anything? Cullis is a bit of old broth, that’s all. Adds a tang that the master likes to the sauce. Now get on with it.’
Arian mixed the ingredients into a jug and stood for a moment watching, as Mrs Bob melted the honey and scooped off the scum. She glanced up and saw Arian watching her.
‘The secret is to use only the best honey, the poorer quality needs a lot of fussing, you have to add the white of an egg and keep boiling the stuff down, it’s not worth the bother but in some homes it has to be done.’
She worked for some moments in silence. ‘Right now, add the mint and some cinnamon and boil the lot for quarter of an hour and it’s ready. See, it’s easy isn’t it girl?’
Mrs Richards entered the kitchen, her face unusually flushed. ‘Arian, you’ll have to serve the dinner,’ she said in her peremptory manner. ‘Bella’s gone and developed a headache.’ Her face took on a pinched, disapproving look, ‘Comes with her courses every month, convenient if you ask me. Now, change your clothes at once and for heaven’s sake do something with that hair.’
Arian looked at Mrs Bob who jerked her head, ‘Go on with you, girl, I can manage here.’
Arian mounted the two flights of stairs to the bedroom she shared with Bella. The girl had her face to the wall, she was pale and sweating and obviously unwell.
‘Can I get you something?’ As Arian talked, she was opening the drawer that had been assigned to her and taking out some fresh clothes.
‘No, I’ll be all right by tomorrow,’ Bella sighed. ‘It’s always like this, first day on, after that it’s not so bad, like.’
‘If you’re sure then.’ It took only moments for Arian to change into a neat clean skirt and crisp apron. She coiled her hair quickly into an untidy bun, cursing at her clumsy fingers, and placed the starched cap on top of her head. ‘I’ll come up later, see if I can bring you some hot tea.’ She spoke to Bella’s back, the girl was heavily asleep.
Mrs Bob had the food ready for her to serve; the meal was set out on a tray and covered with a silver lid. ‘His lordship don’t want no soup tonight so tell him there’s extra veg. Mind you give him time to eat his fill before you take him the pudding, he doesn’t like to be rushed.’
Arian felt a flutter of nerves that was alien to her. She wasn’t used to waiting at table, that was Bella’s job. The tray was heavy and Bella, who was a hefty girl, carried it with ease. Arian on the other hand found negotiation of the stairs and the passageway to the dining room quite an ordeal.
It was with difficulty that she knocked on the door, balancing the tray on one hand, her throat dry, fearing the huge silver salver might at any moment crash to the floor.
‘Come in.’ Calvin Temple’s voice was impatient, he wasn’t used to being kept waiting. ‘About time,’ he said as Arian set the tray on the sideboard and lifted the lid. ‘What is it?’
‘Breast of lamb in wine and mint sauce,’ Arian said quickly, her hackles rising at Calvin’s tone.
He tasted the sauce and looked up at Arian quickly. ‘Who chose the wine?’
‘Well, I went to the cellar to get it for Mrs Bob,’ Arian said puzzled by his manner. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘Very possibly,’ Calvin said dryly. ‘Please bring me the bottle, would you?’
Arian forgot to bob a curtsy as she hurried from the dining room and quickly negotiated the stairs to where in the kitchen Mrs Bob was sitting down to a cup of tea.