Arian

by Iris Gower

  ‘Will, my love, would I be here with you if I wanted Calvin? Sit down, we’ve got to talk about this, there’s air to be cleared and it must be done now.’

  She drew Will to the table and sat opposite him, her hands reaching out to hold his. ‘I know Calvin turned me away from his door, I didn’t have the courage to walk out on him of my own accord, he forced the issue. But did I come to look for you? Think Will, I found a job, I was willing to take care of myself and the baby without anyone’s help. It was you who came to find me.’

  Will stared at her. ‘That’s part of what worries me, you didn’t come to me voluntarily, I took you into my home when you were vulnerable.’

  ‘And I came with you because it was what I wanted, I ignored the fact that my good name would be in the dust. Separated from Calvin I would be no more than an object of pity, the cast-off wife and no one would have known any more than that.’ She paused and squeezed his hands, ‘By living with you openly I’ve shown the world the reason why Calvin cast me aside, I’ve become a woman to scorn in the eyes of some people. I think I’ve proved that I love you, Will.’

  ‘You’re right, of course. Forgive me.’ He raised her hand and kissed the calloused palm. ‘You could have encouraged Calvin, gone back to him, shared the comfort of his mansion but you came home to me. I was a fool to doubt you.’

  He knelt at her feet, wrapped his arms around her waist and touched her throat with his lips. ‘I love you so much that it’s like a pain inside me.’

  Eline put her hands on his cheeks and kissed his mouth. ‘Prove how much you love me,’ she whispered with her lips still against his. He rose at once and swept her up into his arms and gently set her down on the bed.

  The shop in World’s End, approached from the back, turned out to be little more than a shed, and within was a rough workbench, cluttered with bits of leather, hob nails, a last and other implements of the cobbling trade. Will Davies sat at a bench, hammering a sole into place on a leather boot. He looked up and smiled. He was a handsome devil but no more handsome than Calvin Temple, Arian mused.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, ‘I’m looking for something special; a nice pair of boots, must be dainty, mind, something preferably designed by Eline herself.’

  ‘You want to speak to Eline?’ Will said rising from the bench. ‘I’ll give her a shout – she’s inside the house coping with our son.’ The pride in his voice was apparent and Arian could see a little of the charm that had induced Eline to leave her husband.

  ‘Arian Smale!’ Eline came forward, her cheeks flushed. She had the look of a happy woman about her. ‘There’s nice to see you! What are you doing in town, shopping is it?’

  ‘I’m looking for a special pair of boots,’ Arian said, smiling, envying Eline’s obvious contentment. ‘I’m going to work as a book-keeper, at least for the time being and my boss wants me to look the part.’ She didn’t think it politic to mention that she was still working for Eline’s husband.

  ‘A book-keeper is it? Well, I’m glad to see you getting on. I was always pleased with your work, mind, I gave you quite a lot of responsibility and you carried it well, fair play.’

  But Price Davies had soon put a stop to that, Arian thought bitterly.

  ‘Well you’ve come to the right place if you want nice boots.’ Will Davies’s voice broke into Arian’s thoughts. ‘Eline has been designing again, she’s done so well that we’ve expanded our premises,’ he smiled ruefully. ‘Come on in. Right along the passage there you’ll find our shop.’ He led the way and Eline took Arian’s arm, ‘It’s not much, mind, but to us it’s a big step forward.’

  William flung open a door and gestured round the large room with the big window facing the front. ‘Our landlady has actually let us use this part of the house as a shop instead of us having to sell from the back yard.’ He pointed to a row of roughly made shelves.

  ‘Would you like to see some examples of what Eline has done?’

  ‘Will, don’t be so pushy. Take no notice of him.’ Eline was actually blushing. ‘The stuff here is quite ordinary, I’m trying to build up a stock, you see.’

  ‘Well, that’s what I’m here for, to see some boots. Come on, Eline, don’t be modest. Show me something hard-wearing and smart.’

  It was fun to sit on a stool and try on the boots Eline spread out on the floor before her. They were fashioned in leather that was fine even by Arian’s high standards and she rubbed her fingertips over a pair of boots in brown, polished leather with kid inserts on the front, admiring them openly.

  She eventually found a pair that fitted her perfectly and she didn’t hesitate. ‘I’ll take these.’ She paid for them and smiled at Eline’s somewhat bemused expression. ‘They are worth every penny, don’t look so surprised. Where did you buy the leather?’

  ‘I’ve found a small supplier on the outskirts of Neath,’ Will said. ‘Why do you want to know? Thinking of going back into the shoemaking business yourself, are you?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Arian said, ‘the leather fascinates me, I must admit. I know how to spot the difference between good stuff and leather that’s lacking in quality.’

  ‘Well, Mr Clifford lives in the Cimla,’ Will said. ‘He’s got a small warehouse there, little more than a shed really but he doesn’t mind small customers. I suspect that it’s people like me provide him with a living.’

  ‘That’s interesting.’ Arian made a mental note to go to see this Mr Clifford – he could well prove useful to her. She watched as Will parcelled up the boots, and as she took them she smiled at Eline.

  ‘I wish you luck with your designs and I shouldn’t be surprised if our paths cross again sometime.’

  Outside in the clear air, she took a deep breath. That could have been a tricky encounter. If Eline and Will had asked if she was still working for Calvin, she would have had to tell them and she was sure they would not have been so helpful. She felt a little ashamed of her duplicity but what good would it have done anyone if she had told Eline who was actually paying for the boots?

  She spent most of the day shopping and returned to Stormhill with an armful of parcels feeling she had spent the money Calvin had allocated her as wisely and frugally as possible. She had bought a sensible skirt in dark serge and several crisp white blouses and to top them a coat of warm merino wool – she would need it when winter came.

  Mrs Bob greeted her excitedly. ‘Arian, the new steward, he’s here and he’s ever so handsome. Duw, if I was twenty years younger I’d set my cap at him, that I would.’

  Arian was not interested. She’d had enough of men and she never wanted to be close to one again. She hurried to her room and set down her parcels almost dreamily; there were some parts of her chequered past that she enjoyed remembering.

  The first to make love to her was Eddie Carpenter. He’d been young, as nervous as she was, but he’d treated her almost with reverence. Their affair had been passionate; he had loved her and wanted to marry her, but even then she knew that he was not the man she wanted to spend her life with.

  By now, Eddie might well have qualified as a doctor up in London somewhere. And that turn in Eddie’s life, she remembered with warmth, had all been due to Calvin Temple’s generosity. Eddie had looked after Eline when she’d been taken sick one day while shopping in Swansea. His gentle assurance and his knowledge that nothing ailed Eline other than the normal reactions of a woman expecting a child had impressed Calvin to such an extent that he had offered to pay for Eddie’s training. Calvin, Arian realized was something of a philanthropist. What’s more, he was a very attractive man.

  She hastily pushed the thought aside; loving was not for her, she’d had her fill of men, enough to last her a lifetime.

  Later, as the staff sat at supper in the huge warmth of the kitchen, Arian had time to study the new steward, the man with whom she would be working. Somehow his appearance gave her a sense of apprehension.

  Gerald Simples was certainly handsome; he was swarthy in the way that Romanies were swart
hy and his moustache, thick and dark, gave him a predatory appearance that was slightly unnerving.

  ‘You’ll be sure to know me next time.’ His voice was a surprise – it was cultured and had a slight accent that Arian could not define.

  ‘Sorry, was I staring?’ Arian said quickly. ‘There’s rude of me, it’s just that you reminded me of someone, someone I didn’t much like.’ The last thing she wanted was to encourage the man to think she was interested in him. Indeed, she was almost repelled by the raw edge of masculinity about him.

  ‘That’s fine by me,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m not here to be liked, I think we shall work very well together, don’t you?’

  Arian lifted a fork to her lips to save her the necessity of replying. She hardly tasted the food, wishing herself away from the strange presence of the man.

  As soon as she could, she returned to her room, a larger one than she had previously occupied with Bella as befitted her new status in the house. As she sank onto the bed, stretching her feet to the fire, she tried to force away the dark thoughts that hovered painfully on the edges of her mind.

  But that night, the dream came again. She was being beaten and her body violated, invaded by the man she had come to hate, the man who had died but lived on in her nightmares, and as she came sharply awake, she acknowledged to herself at last the reason for her dislike of Gerald Simples. It was because he bore a startling resemblance to Price Davies.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Arian sat in the newly appointed office that looked over the lawns at the back of Stormhill Manor. The smell of freshly sharpened pencils was finer than that of any scent and Arian breathed a sigh of contentment as she turned away from the sight of the large lawns and sturdy trees to study the figures before her.

  She had found, in the last few weeks, several discrepancies; small, it was true, but enough to prevent the books from balancing.

  Mrs Richards’s pique had manifested itself in a deliberate attack on Arian’s morals. She had made it her business to learn more of Arian’s past and never missed an opportunity to make a sly dig about what she called her unconventional life-style. Her attitude succeeded only in bringing to the fore painful memories that Arian would have preferred to forget, for no-one took the slightest notice of Mrs Richards’s spiteful gossip.

  With the new steward, though, it was more difficult to be off-hand. He made her feel distinctly uneasy whenever she was alone in the office with him.

  And yet, he had a fine mind, there was no questioning that. Columns which it took Arian several minutes to total on paper were done in seconds in Mr Simples’s head. To be fair, he was quite ready to teach her a few tricks of the accounting trade but still Arian’s instinct was to mistrust him.

  ‘Now let’s decipher these accounts of last month,’ she said out loud, ‘see what a nonsense our good Mrs Richards has made of them.’

  Arian smiled, amused to realize that she was adopting Mr Simples’s speech mannerisms, copying his clearly enunciated words. ‘Duw, I’ll be getting above myself if I don’t take care.’ She gave voice to her thoughts, her tone wry.

  ‘Talking to yourself, Miss Smale?’ Gerald Simples had come quietly into the room and stood looking down at her, his dark eyebrows raised. She sat up straighter, brushing back a tendril of hair.

  ‘Just thinking out loud,’ she replied. ‘I didn’t expect you back yet.’

  ‘If you had, you would have reserved your gems of wisdom for me, I suppose?’ He peered down at the book. ‘There,’ he pointed, ‘a mistake of two shillings, that is an extravagance even for Mrs Richards. I think we’d better go over the books for the last six-month period.’

  Arian sighed. There seemed little point in that; the mistakes had been made and however correct the books were, the money would never be recouped.

  ‘Later,’ Mr Simples said, ‘I want you to go to his lordship and inform him of the money his housekeeper has lost him to date. I make it almost an entire guinea.’

  Arian looked up at him. ‘Is that really necessary?’ she asked. ‘It will only get Mrs Richards into trouble.’

  ‘I’m here to do a job, Miss Smale. So are you. We will do it properly or not at all.’

  He settled himself at his desk, his back towards her and Arian watched him covertly, trying to decide what it was about him that made her think of Price Davies. It wasn’t physical likeness, not exactly, although there were similarities in appearance. No, it was some look in the eye, some air of contained power as though Simples could suddenly turn into a dangerous animal.

  He glanced back over his shoulder as though aware of her scrutiny. ‘Any problems, Miss Smale?’ he asked and she shook her head without replying.

  It was not often that they were together in the office for any length of time. Mr Simples had other duties that fortunately kept him busy – but when they were, Arian was unable to concentrate on her work, she kept feeling his eyes boring into her although he was in fact acting as though she wasn’t there.

  She took a deep breath. Her task was to prove that she could handle the household accounts alone, the sooner the better, then she would scarcely ever be alone with the steward.

  The work on the books was not difficult; now that she had charge of the outgoings there was an easy method of assessing the month’s expenditure. So long as every detail of any purchases was noted in the book, it was normally only a few hours’ work to balance the figures at the end of the month. But now that Mr Simples had started delving into the back accounts, goodness knows how long it would take her to sort them out.

  She dropped her pencil and became aware that she was being watched.

  ‘Day-dreaming, Miss Smale?’ Mr Simples rose and came to stand over her, leaning forward to check the figures on the open page. Arian resisted the urge to move away from him, not wishing to offend. But, as though he sensed her withdrawal, he straightened.

  ‘You don’t much like me, do you, Miss Smale?’ he said abruptly and she looked up at him in surprise. It was the first time he had said anything remotely personal.

  ‘I’ve never given it any thought,’ she said quickly, and his half smile told her he knew that she lied. ‘I certainly respect your acumen,’ she said. ‘You are sharp with figures and I envy you that.’

  ‘Well thank you, compliments no less, but I still feel that you do not like me. Why?’

  Arian shrugged. ‘You remind me of someone I’d rather forget.’ She looked up at him. ‘Unfair of me, I’ll agree, but it’s something I can’t help.’

  ‘Well then, I must prove to you that I am not like that other man. It has to be a lover, doesn’t it?’

  Arian turned away. ‘There’s no point in talking about it, Mr Simples. It’s my business and anyway, it’s all in the past.’

  He walked away then, so light on his feet that she scarcely heard him leave the room. She shivered and chewed the end of her pencil. Why did he have the ability to make her feel threatened?

  She rose and closed the book with a snap. She had done enough today. She would get out of the room, away from the feeling of being trapped. This was not the way she wanted to live her life – she wanted action, the chance to make a success of a business which would take her away from servitude to any man.

  She hurried down the curving staircase and stood for a moment in the hall which was redolent with the smell of beeswax. The door to the library stood open and on an impulse, Arian moved towards the huge bookcase that lined one of the walls.

  She looked up at the books and selected one at random. It was difficult to read, the language being involved and ancient.

  ‘A bit ambitious of you.’ The leather chair facing the fire swung round and Calvin Temple was observing her, his eyes sharp. ‘It’s a translation from the French. Are you particularly interested in philosophy, Miss Smale?’

  She flushed. ‘There is no need to be patronising, sir,’ she said quickly. ‘My father did edit a newspaper so I’m not without some reading skills, or had you forgotten?’

 
; ‘Ah yes, Robert Smale, of the Cambrian, I had forgotten. I apologize.’ He rose and took the book from her hands and reaching up, selected another volume.

  ‘I think this will interest you much more,’ he said. ‘It contains short biographies of the local businessmen. Some of them are leather barons, a subject I know interests you. Perhaps you should seek out one who is eligible for marriage, join him in business, as it were.’

  ‘I don’t much like the implication,’ Arian said, anger growing inside her. ‘I am many things but I am not a harlot who sells herself for a price, any price. I will make my own way in this life and without marrying a man to do it.’

  Calvin’s eyebrows were raised. ‘How is Eddie Carpenter getting along?’ he asked. ‘Is he qualified yet? I haven’t had a letter from him in some time.’

  Arian felt her colour rise ‘I was Eddie’s mistress, if that’s what you’d like to call it. That was not for gain and it was my choice. It’s no-one’s business but my own.’

  ‘The things I have heard about you and the cobbler Price Davies are not true then?’ he asked calmly.

  ‘I don’t know what you have heard.’ Arian felt her face grow hot. She had teased Price Davies with her charms just to learn his skills and in the end she had suffered for it. ‘I would prefer it if you did not speak about that part of my life, it is very painful to me.’

  ‘I suppose being betrayed is always painful,’ Calvin said and he sounded angry, ‘but some of us do not ask for it.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for what happened to me,’ Arian said, the blood pounding in her ears. ‘I was held prisoner and raped by the cobbler you talk about. Does that satisfy your curiosity, sir?’

  Calvin seemed taken aback by her outburst. He opened his mouth to say something but Arian went on speaking.

  ‘It was not pretty and I’m not proud of it but it doesn’t make me a whore so if you have given me a job with the idea that you can amuse yourself with me between the sheets then you can forget it.’