Firebird

by Iris Gower

  ‘What do you mean by barging in like this? Have you no tact, no sense of timing?’

  ‘After what has happened to Llinos you talk of tact?’ Eynon faced his father squarely; they were, he realized, of a height so that they looked each other in the eye.

  ‘Her father has sent her away, I am saddened by it but I am not her keeper, Eynon, surely you understand that much?’

  ‘And yet your selfish conduct is the cause of the gossip about the two of you,’ Eynon said.

  ‘Nothing untoward happened,’ Philip said carefully, ‘and if it had, it would be no-one’s business but mine.’

  ‘So why did you compromise her, Father? What were you thinking of?’

  ‘Estelle had just . . . just passed away,’ Philip said. ‘I felt very low, naturally. Llinos was sympathetic, she . . .’

  ‘So you were foolish enough to allow her to stay the night in your room? Didn’t you stop to think of her reputation?’

  ‘I was distraught . . .’ Philip said.

  Eynon held up his hand. ‘No, you were selfish, as usual. So Llinos’s father came and took her away and who could blame him?’

  Philip shrugged. ‘He came when I was out, took the girl back home by force, according to Wright.’ He shrugged. ‘What was I supposed to do?’

  ‘You are a spiteful, vindictive man and I am ashamed that you are my father.’ Eynon shook his head. ‘You have no conscience, none at all. You might have ruined a young girl’s life but what do you care?’ He waved his hand towards the dining-room. ‘Your wife dead only days and here you are entertaining, I just do not understand you.’

  Philip turned on his heel. ‘Nor I you. Now if you have finished your little tantrum, I will rejoin my guests.’

  Eynon caught his father’s shoulder. ‘Father, as a matter of curiosity, why do you hate me?’

  Philip turned and his gaze was full of scorn. ‘Need you ask?’ His voice was low, his mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘You are only half a man, you have no strength. I will never get an heir from you so I shall have to get myself a son, a proper son.’

  ‘You forget, Father, I am your heir whatever you think of me. I am your first-born, nothing you can do will ever change that.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you be too sure.’ Philip walked into the dining-room and closed the door.

  Eynon left the house and went out into the cool of the night air. His father was an evil man and a fool, nothing he could do would change Eynon’s position in the scheme of things. One day, Eynon would inherit the house, the pottery and all the money that had belonged to the family of Eynon’s mother.

  He stood looking up at the Tawe Pottery for a long moment and then he moved into the row. His knock on the door of Pottery House brought an elderly manservant to enquire what he wanted.

  He was invited into the hallway and stood there waiting for Lloyd Savage to put in an appearance. Eynon’s welcome at the Savage household was much warmer than he might have expected.

  ‘Eynon. Come inside, have you eaten?’

  Lloyd was adept now at manoeuvring his specially adapted chair. Eynon nodded. ‘I have, thank you.’

  ‘Then we shall have a drink of porter and talk together, after all, you still have an interest in the pottery, don’t you?’

  Eynon seated himself in the comfortable leather chair and took the glass Lloyd handed him.

  ‘My interest in the pottery is nominal, I can see that you have everything under control without any help from me. I came to enquire about Llinos,’ he said and Lloyd nodded.

  ‘I guessed as much. Your father was a fool, compromising the child’s reputation the way he did. Well, Llinos is out of harm’s way now, silly, headstrong girl.’

  ‘And Joe?’

  ‘Joe has gone. He had business of his own to attend to.’ Lloyd tipped the glass to his mouth, savouring the liquid, rolling it round his tongue. ‘It eases the night horrors, you know what I mean?’

  Eynon nodded, he knew only too well, except that his own horrors were very much different to those of the man before him.

  ‘So Llinos is all right?’ Eynon sat back in his chair feeling suddenly deflated. He had expected another battle and Lloyd’s geniality unnerved him. He was experiencing a crushing sense of disappointment. Even if he learned of Llinos’s whereabouts, it was doubtful he would be able to see her.

  ‘May I have her address? I would very much like to write to her.’

  ‘I see no harm in that.’ Lloyd wheeled himself to the desk and took out a sheet of paper. He scribbled an address and handed it to Eynon.

  ‘If you do visit her, tell her I’m sorry I needed to use such tactics with her.’ He shook his head. ‘I had to take her from your father’s pottery by force, it was not very pleasant. I don’t suppose she will ever forgive me.’

  ‘And I will never forgive my father for putting her in such a position.’ Eynon accepted Lloyd’s unspoken invitation, holding out his glass towards the bottle for Lloyd to refill it.

  ‘Why do we need to battle with those we love?’ Lloyd said. ‘I only wanted what was best for Llinos, but of course she couldn’t see that.’ He looked at Eynon. ‘She’s grieving for Joe. Not even you could call Joe an ideal life partner for a girl as well-bred as my daughter, could you?’

  Eynon paused for a moment to ponder what Lloyd meant by the ‘even you’. ‘I think it is the right of everyone, man or woman, to choose for themselves over something so important,’ he said.

  ‘Well, that’s it, isn’t it? Llinos is still a child, she is not a woman, not by a long chalk. She proved that by staying in your father’s room all night alone.’

  ‘Even so, she knows her own mind. I sometimes wish she didn’t.’

  ‘Poor Eynon, I know you are in love with her, I can see it in your face. Why don’t you go after her, talk her into marriage with you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’ He gazed into his glass. ‘I would never have thought I would accept the son of my bitterest rival as a suitor for my daughter but anything would be better than her marrying a half-breed.’

  Eynon rose, forcing himself to be calm. ‘I’m sorry I intruded on your privacy.’ He swallowed the lump in his throat that might have been anger and then again might well have been tears. ‘Thank you for the address.’

  Outside in the coolness of the night air, Eynon felt the touch of rain on his face. It seemed that Lloyd felt as much scorn for him as his own father did.

  He clenched the paper in his hand as though it was a talisman. He felt warm, suddenly here was a doorway to winning Llinos, he was sure of it. She would surely prefer marriage to him to being held prisoner for years to come. He glanced back once at the lights shining from the windows of the houses behind him. And then he walked away from the light into the darkness of the night.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The rosy glow of dawn was bringing the trees into sharp focus. Dew gently dusted the grass beneath Joe’s feet as he walked towards the house in the hollow of the valley. He had arrived too late at the coaching inn. Llinos and her party had already left. Fortunately, one of the grooms had overheard the servants talking and knew which direction the coach was taking.

  Now Joe stood outside Avonbridge Hall. It was a sprawling, elegant building with high windows and many chimneys. He held his breath and closed his eyes. He pictured Llinos, her dark hair fanned like a silk cloak on her pillow, her beautiful eyes closed.

  He would wake her with his mind, touch her with his longing and she would come to him. He looked up at the morning skies, he felt the earth beneath his feet, breathed in the scents and sounds of nature awakening around him and he knew it was good to be alive.

  She came to him as he had known she would. She stood in her flimsy nightgown, her hair flowing around her shoulders, just as he had imagined her.

  ‘Joe!’ She stood looking at him for a long moment and then she walked slowly into his arms. He held her, kissing the glossy waves of silkiness as her hair cascaded across his face.

  ‘I knew you were near
, I knew you would come. I dreamed about you last night.’ Her voice was husky with sleep.

  He kissed her eyes, her hair and then he kissed her mouth. It was as though the rivers of his past, the rivers of pain, rejection, and loneliness had turned into sparkling, cascading fountains. He was this moment, he was the past, the future, he was eternity.

  ‘I love you, Llinos, my little Firebird.’ He felt her body strain against his and he wanted her, he would always want her. He had known her from time immemorial. She was his homeland, the grass on the plains. She ran free with the buffalo herds, she touched continents with the power of the four winds.

  ‘I love you too, Joe.’ She pulled his head towards her and he felt her heart beat like a tiny bird against his own. Now, he had the right to claim her. He was no longer penniless. He was a man of property, a man with prospects. He could take care of Llinos in the way her father could respect.

  ‘Llinos Savage, come along inside the house at once!’ The voice was cracked with age, fierce with outrage. Joe relinquished the soft sweetness of Llinos’s lips and looked up.

  A woman, old, with the map of time written across her face, her limbs gnarled like the twisting branches of the trees, was staring at him, her eyes alive, filled with anger.

  ‘Aunt Rebecca, don’t be angry.’ Llinos clung to Joe. ‘We are in love. Joe’s come for me and I won’t be parted from him any longer.’

  ‘Shame on you, girl.’ Rebecca Savage twitched her shawl around her shoulders, covering her thin bosom. ‘Come indoors this instant.’

  She hobbled painfully towards the open French windows, her hand, clawlike, gripping her stick for support. Joe looked down at Llinos.

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ He would explain to the old lady that he was offering Llinos marriage. He had not asked for his father’s estate, had not even considered it his by right but if it was the key to his happiness with the woman he loved then so be it.

  ‘Joe.’ Llinos held his hand in hers. ‘Why now, what’s changed your mind?’

  ‘My father has left me his estates. I have worldly goods to offer you now.’

  ‘That never mattered to me.’

  ‘I know.’ He touched her cheek. ‘But it mattered to me. And, I suspect, to your father. He will still see me as I am, a half-breed,’ Joe said. ‘But perhaps he will accept me now I have means.’ He walked with her towards the house and he was conscious of her softness pressing against his side.

  ‘Don’t worry, Llinos, I think you will find that money and property can wipe out the most inbuilt prejudice.’

  Inside, the house was bustling with life, maids scurried from kitchen to bedrooms, carrying jugs of steaming water. How the rich lived in comfort by exploiting the poor never failed to amaze Joe. In his homeland every person, every tree, every twig was given honour.

  Rebecca Savage sat in a chair, her shawl drawn tightly around her shoulders. Her eyes were sharp as they rested on Joe.

  It was Llinos who broke the silence. ‘Joe is the man I love, Auntie. I am going to marry him whatever anyone says.’ Llinos touched her aunt’s shoulder and Rebecca shrugged her hand away.

  ‘It’s all right, Joe’s intentions are honourable. He owns lands, houses, he is very rich. Oh, come on, Auntie, don’t frown like that.’

  ‘Your father does not approve of him, child.’

  ‘I will marry Joe whether Father approves or not.’

  ‘Then you must return home to your father. I will have your bags repacked.’ She shook her head. ‘I did not expect your lover to turn up on my doorstep.’

  She straightened her shoulders. ‘You are an unruly and wilful girl and I will not have you under my roof another night.’

  Her eyes flashed across the room at Joe. ‘She will travel back to Swansea with you. One of my maids will accompany you. I didn’t wish to be involved in the first place, now I can wash my hands of the whole sorry episode.’ She rose with difficulty, refusing Llinos’s help, and hobbled from the room.

  Llinos looked up at Joe. He sensed the words trembling on her lips. ‘You do want to marry me, don’t you, Joe?’

  It was what he wanted more than anything else in the world. She was part of him. She lived inside his head, his heart, his blood.

  ‘Yes, I want to marry you,’ he said. ‘Now, go and get dressed. We shall leave for home before noon.’

  Eynon felt out of place in his father’s house, it was as though the very fabric of Ty Mawr were rejecting him. But one of the older servants had sent for him; Philip was sick and with Mrs Morton-Edwards newly laid to rest Eynon was needed to take charge.

  He looked down at his father lying stricken in his bed; he seemed diminished by his illness. His skin was flushed an unhealthy red and his eyes were sunken, the flesh around them swollen.

  His father, even in the throes of some fever, seemed to reject him. Whenever Eynon sat near, or smoothed away the tangled hair from his father’s brow, Philip would move restlessly, as though trying to draw away from him.

  Of course his father had never loved him, had found him weak, unlovable, but that did not alter the fact that they were tied by the bonds of blood. Eynon had a duty to discharge and he would do it to the best of his ability.

  There was a light tapping on the bedroom door and the doctor entered, his face flushed from his ride. ‘Morning, Eynon, how is our patient today?’

  Eynon watched as the doctor examined his father, hoping there would be some change for the better. His hopes were dashed when the doctor turned to him, grave-faced.

  ‘I’m sorry, Eynon, we can do nothing but wait it out. The fever should break soon and that will be the turning point. Would you like to call a second opinion, perhaps?’

  ‘Thank you, Dr Rogers.’ Eynon looked with affection at the old doctor who had cared for the family for as long as he could remember. ‘I have every confidence in you, there’s no need to call in any other doctor.’

  Dr Rogers inclined his head. ‘Thank you, Eynon.’ He moved towards the door. ‘Your father’s heartbeat is rapid, it’s an unpredictable organ at best. It can do all sorts of things for which we are not prepared.’

  Eynon wondered if the doctor was speaking philosophically or medically.

  ‘Your father is a strong man, I expect he will live to make old bones but you can never be sure. In the meantime, I know you are more than capable of looking after your father’s affairs.’

  Eynon nodded but he was trembling inside. The doctor’s words reminded him that he would be responsible for the running of the pottery, the managing of the accounts. It was too sudden, he had no experience in that quarter, all he had known was painting and not even that since he had moved to his own home.

  If Llinos was here, she would have known exactly what to do. He loved Llinos, he trusted her. He wished she was with him now. He would have travelled to Bristol to see her by now if his father had not been taken sick.

  He sat alone in the darkness of the drawing-room and wondered what he should do. Binnie was used to the ways of the pottery, he could take charge for the time being. He might be a lowly potter, but Binnie Dundee was equipped with a keen mind and a wish to better himself.

  Eynon would scarcely need to bother with the day-to-day running of the pottery. The key workers were in place; fine painters did the decorating, far better artists than he was. And under the care of Mr Wright, the experiments with the porcelain bodies were continuing in a most satisfactory way. No, all Eynon needed to do was keep an eye on things until his father was well again. Surely he could do that much, couldn’t he? Why did he have to doubt himself always? He should be filled with confidence, ready and willing to step into his father’s shoes. His father was right, he was a weakling, a moral coward, no wonder no-one looked up to him.

  It had grown dark and restlessly Eynon rose and walked out into the garden. The moonlight silvered the trees and the small lake in the lower garden. Ty Mawr was a beautiful house with well-kept grounds and yet Eynon had never felt he belonged there. He glanced back at t
he house, at the glow from the window of his father’s room, and he shivered. His father was normally so full of life and now he was lying on his sickbed with no-one to love him or care for him except the son he despised. It was strange how the world sometimes turned full circle. He breathed in deeply, suddenly lonely.

  Through the dimness of the moonlight, Eynon caught sight of the flapping black robes of one of the vicars. As the man drew nearer, Eynon was relieved to see that it was Father Martin.

  ‘I haven’t yet thanked you for conducting the burial service, Father Martin,’ Eynon said. ‘You spoke so well, anyone would believe my father’s wife was the best-loved lady in Swansea.’

  Martin smiled his baby smile, his blue eyes crinkled with laughter. ‘Well, so she was, of course. All my flock are well-loved, didn’t you know that, sir?’

  Eynon found himself smiling; he liked Martin, he was human, he made mistakes and he did not mind admitting it.

  ‘Will you come inside and have a drink with me, I feel in need of company?’

  ‘Most certainly I will, sir. Lead the way, I always knew I could smell fine brandy from a mile off!’

  ‘Good. Please, Father, do me a favour, drop the formality and just call me Eynon?’

  ‘I will if you will drop the formality and just call me Martin.’

  The candles flickered in the draught from the door as Eynon led the way inside. He pushed open the doors of the sitting-room and gestured for Martin to enter. More candles flickered in the silver candelabra, washing the room with soft light.

  ‘Please, Father . . . Martin, make yourself comfortable.’ Eynon poured a good measure of brandy for each of them. ‘This will warm the cockles of your heart.’

  They drank in silence for a time, a comfortable silence, and Eynon began to feel his tension ease a little.

  Father Martin leaned forward a little. ‘You seem very much alone, Eynon. Perhaps you should find yourself a pretty wife who will fill your home with children.’

  ‘The girl I want loves someone else.’

  ‘Is she going to marry him?’