by Iris Gower
When Bull sat down Jayne Buchan began to clap and soon everyone in the hall followed suit. Bull’s fervour had persuaded them that the railway would indeed be an asset to Swansea.
When the meeting was over Katie remained in her seat while Bull talked to several of the well-dressed gentlemen of the town. She was so proud of him that she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.
Later, she held her breath as Bull took her arm in his and led her out into the night. The rain had stopped and the clouds had cleared to reveal a sliver of moonlight. Katie felt as though she was walking through a magic world filled with breathless beauty. It was the world as she had never seen it before. Love was wonderful.
As they began the steep walk towards Eynon Morton-Edwards’ house Bull took her hand. His grip was strong, and thrills of joy spiralled through Katie’s veins so that her senses were tinglingly alive.
He led her through the large gates and skirted the drive, making for the back of the house. All was in darkness there, but Katie knew the kitchen would be a hub of activity with Cook and the maids preparing food for the next day. She was not sure what to expect when Bull stopped walking and swung her to face him. Was he going to kiss her? She had never kissed any man and she was afraid. Her heart was pounding and she turned her face up to his as he leaned towards her, but he did not kiss her. Instead he touched her cheek lightly with his forefinger.
‘I’m so proud of you, Bull,’ she said, ‘the way you handled the meeting.’
‘And you’ll be even prouder once I’m a manager with my own house,’ he said teasingly.
‘I like you just as you are, Bull.’ Katie was breathless – would he think her too forward?
‘That’s all that matters, then.’ He cupped her face with his hands then kissed her so lightly that she had no time to be afraid. ‘I know you’re a good girl, Katie, and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you so I’d better go while I can still resist temptation.’
Then he was walking away from her, a tall broad-shouldered man, and even as he disappeared from sight she began to miss him.
As she had thought, the kitchen was a hive of activity. The new maid, Dolly, was washing up pots and pans. ‘It’s nice for some to have so much time off, in’t it, Cook?’ she said spitefully. Cook was just taking freshly baked bread from the oven and didn’t reply. She put it on a tray to cool then slumped into a chair, wiping the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her dress. Her eyes were sharp, though.
‘What you been up to, Katie?’ she asked. ‘Courting, by the look on your face.’
‘You know where I’ve been. At a meeting in town. It was about the railway line, and Mr Morton-Edwards gave me his permission so long as I told him all about it when I got back.’
Mrs Grinter sniffed. ‘The master isn’t very well. He’s gone to bed early so whatever you got to tell him will keep until morning.’
‘I knew he wasn’t feeling good,’ Katie said, ‘or he’d have gone to the meeting himself.’
‘Well, that’s as maybe, but who walked you home, girl? Was it that man of yours? I’m sure as eggs are eggs you didn’t come home by yourself.’
‘No need to ask who walked her home,’ Dolly sounded triumphant. ‘It was that man they call Bull – built like one too, I’ll bet.’
‘Don’t be vulgar, Dolly.’ Cook pretended to be affronted but her eyes were gleaming. ‘He’s real nice, isn’t he, Katie? A gent.’
‘He’s wonderful.’ Katie pulled off her shawl and bonnet and sank into a chair. ‘I’m so lucky to have him.’
‘So that’s what you think!’ The maid shook the water off her hands and dried them on her apron. ‘He’s no gentleman, isn’t Bull Beynon. He’s got a woman on the go in one of them shanties at the side of the railway track – Rhiannon, she’s called.’
Katie felt the colour drain from her face and Mrs Grinter looked at her shrewdly. ‘Didn’t you know, Katie? I thought everyone did. Oh, you poor little thing.’ She flapped her hand at the maid. ‘Make a brew, Dolly, there’s a good girl. Katie looks as if she could do with a pick-me-up.’ She eased off her shoes. ‘See, Katie, them navvies, they all have women to cook for them and to follow them from camp to camp; cheap women they are who will go wherever their man is working. It don’t mean nothing, not really.’
Katie felt cold. Surely Bull would have told her if he had another woman. But, then, what did she know about him? What on earth made her think he really cared about her?
‘Are you sure?’ Katie clung to a thread of hope, but Dolly’s next words dashed it.
‘Oh, aye, I’ve seen her myself – a beauty she is too. Seems at one time she was a harlot, like, went with the men, lots of them, for what they could give her, but Bull rescued her, see. He must like her a lot to do that, don’t you think?’
Dolly made the tea and Cook pushed a cup towards Katie. ‘Go on, girl, a hot drink will do you good. You look like you seen a ghost.’
Katie stared at her cup, feeling numb. How could she have been such a fool? She had heard the stories about the navvies so why had she thought Bull was any different from the rest? ‘I think I’ll go to bed.’ She got up and hurried to her room at the top of the house. When she closed the door she sat on the bed in the darkness, too upset even to light a candle. She thought about Bull, about his strength, the feel of his hand holding hers, and the butterfly touch of his lips, and tears brimmed in her eyes. She cried for a long time but at last, exhausted, she lay dry-eyed in the darkness, vowing never to trust any man ever again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jayne stared at her reflection in the ornate mirror hanging in the hall. She was on her way out to town, but not for a shopping spree. Today she had an important meeting with a man at her bank. She smiled at her image and saw that her eyes were shining with anticipation. She was going to acquire even more shares in the Great Western Railway, thanks to Mr Prentice.
Jayne congratulated herself that Jason Prentice was not only a damn fine manager of money but her devoted slave. She had only to smile at him and he would give her anything she asked for. Dafydd would be so jealous if he knew, but she had no intention of telling him about her business interests, not yet. She would surprise him when the time was right. But when would it be right?
Her spirits sank a little. It was becoming more and more difficult to get her husband to pay her any attention at all. Jayne bit her lip. No one need tell her that Dafydd still believed himself in love with Llinos Mainwaring. She twisted the gold band on her finger. Dafydd was her husband, and one day, when they had a family, he would see where his real interests lay.
A pale shaft of sunshine washed the morning streets of Swansea as Jayne’s carriage negotiated the plethora of traffic into the centre of the town. She breathed deeply: she felt she was a woman in charge of her own destiny, a businesswoman. If Dafydd knew the real Jayne he would be more than a little surprised. She knew he saw her as empty-headed, a pretty acquisition to dangle on his arm – and, what was more, a rich one. The two families together owned more property and had more business interests than anyone else in the county. And yet if she could not make Dafydd love her just a little, what good was all their wealth?
Jason Prentice was waiting for her with obvious anticipation. He was a great improvement on the old man her father employed to do his business. Jason was young, eager, hungry for success, and he was willing to go just that little bit further for Jayne Buchan.
‘Good morning, Mrs Buchan. Please, let me show you through to my room where we can be more private.’
As Jayne swept past him she was aware of the admiration in his eyes, and breathed in the heady sense of power it gave her: she felt that Jayne Buchan was a force to be reckoned with. The pity was that her husband did not know it.
Jason closed the door behind him and held a chair for her with a reverence that made her smile. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a pot of tea. I hope I did the right thing?’
‘Of course, Mr Prentice, but when did you ever do the wrong
thing?’ She smiled at him with what she hoped was the right degree of warmth, not too familiar.
When she held a cup of tea in her gloved hands, she leaned back in her chair and gave him the benefit of her smile. ‘The shares, Mr Prentice, do tell me how you came by them.’
He looked doubtful, but Jayne’s smile widened. ‘Please, Mr Prentice, you can trust me to be the soul of discretion, I promise you.’
‘Oh, I know, Mrs Buchan. It’s just that we here at the office are not at liberty to disclose the business of some of our other clients. However,’ he added, as Jayne’s smile became a frown, ‘in your case I can make an exception.’
He leaned forward. ‘A Mr Coals, an old client of ours, has just passed away.’ He paused, then continued as though the words were being dragged out of him. ‘It seems his daughter, herself an elderly lady, wants nothing to do with shares. She says she does not understand them – but, then, does any gentle lady understand matters of money?’
This was an opening for flattery and Jayne took it. ‘Oh, I know, Mr Prentice, that I would be lost without your advice and guidance. Please go on.’
‘Well, Mr Coals held a fair amount of shares, and though you are not obliged to take them all I think it would be a good move because then you would be one of the biggest single shareholders in the South Wales area.’ He smiled, well pleased with himself for handing Jayne such a bargain. He put his elbows on the desk and leaned even closer to her. ‘You will also be a powerful force in the business of the railway.’
Jayne agreed with him. She, too, had understood that one day the Great Western would run across most of the South West. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Mr Prentice.’ She leaned forward to put her cup on the desk and saw the solicitor’s eyes widen as he breathed in her perfume. She smiled her most dazzling smile and put her hand over his. ‘Go ahead with the deal. Just tell me where to sign the papers and I will be so grateful.’
As Jayne left the office, she reflected that men would believe anything that fell from the lips of a woman they desired. She had signed the relevant papers but had taken care to read every word, pretending to be slow. She was now the proud owner of twenty per cent of the entire share stock most of the rest of the shares were held by a consortium of businessmen. Somehow, she would have to find out just where she stood and once she knew how strong her position was she would present the news to her husband.
When she got home she found Dafydd there. ‘Hello, darling.’ He bent to kiss her cheek almost absently. ‘What are we having for luncheon?’
‘Cook is doing saddle of lamb. But why are you home in the middle of the day? Usually I don’t see you until the evening, just before you pop out to your club.’
If he heard the reproach in her voice he chose to ignore it. ‘I want to see Ceri. I feel I’ve been neglecting him the last few weeks.’
‘Then perhaps you’ll take me with you?’
‘Yes, why not? You can talk to his wife while I go over their business affairs.’
Jayne sighed. ‘Dafydd, come and sit down. We never talk to each other now.’ But when had he ever talked to her?
‘What is it?’ he asked indulgently. ‘You need new tea-gowns, is that it?’
‘No!’ Her tone made him look at her properly for the first time since she had come in.
‘You are not with child, are you, Jayne?’
She heard the note of hope in his voice and took a deep breath. ‘No, I am not.’ She forced herself to speak calmly. ‘I just wanted to talk to you about business. You never include me in anything important, do you?’
‘I’ve said you can come with me to my brother’s house, haven’t I?’
‘Yes, so I can keep your sister-in-law occupied while you amuse yourself looking through Ceri’s papers.’
‘We’re not quarrelling, are we, Jayne?’ There was a note in his voice that boded ill, but Jayne was angry already.
‘Yes, we are.’ She wanted to put her hands on her hips and rail at him. But she capitulated. ‘I’m sorry, Dafydd,’ she said softly, remembering the effect her smile had had on Jason Prentice. Perhaps she should tease him a little, coax him into a better frame of mind. Confrontation was not the way to deal with Dafydd – she had learned that much already. ‘Sit with me for a while. I’m lonely.’ She took his hand and drew him to sit beside her on the sofa. She snuggled close to him and looked into his eyes. ‘If you want a baby, my darling, you will have to love me a little more.’ She put her arms around him and caressed his shoulders, then kissed his cheeks, his mouth.
‘Why, little Jayne,’ he held her away for a moment and looked into her face, ‘I do believe you’re awakening into womanhood.’
How could she tell him she longed for his touch? When he lay with her she felt he was hers – at least for that moment. ‘Come upstairs,’ she whispered. ‘Please, Dafydd, I want you to hold me close.’
He took her hand, led her into the hall and up the curving staircase to her bedroom. He undressed her swiftly, expertly, and she wondered how many women he’d undressed before he met her.
They lay together on the bed, limbs entwined. Surely this, the most intimate act, would make him love her more. She ran her hands over his shoulders and, greatly daring, allowed her fingers to trace a pattern across his strong buttocks. He was a fine figure of a man and it was no wonder that other women wanted him. But she was the one he had married, she reminded herself, and it was she who, one day, would bear him legitimate sons.
He took longer with his love-making than usual but somehow, when he fell away from her, Jayne still felt unfulfilled. She knew something was missing from their union, but what was it? She loved him so much and she wanted him so much, but after love-making she felt more lost and alone than ever.
He snuggled close to her, his head against her breast, and soon his regular breathing told her he was asleep.
Shanni stared at the doctor open-mouthed. ‘I’m with child, you say – but I can’t be, surely?’
Dr Mortimer smiled and Shanni realized how stupid her question must seem. ‘You’re a healthy young girl, Shanni,’ he said, ‘and nature has taken her course. Aren’t you pleased?’
Shanni did not know how she felt. She was confused, trying to count back to when she last saw the curse, and then she remembered: it had been shortly before she and Dafydd . . . but no, that was impossible, she must not even think the child could be his. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ Shanni tried to gather her wits. ‘I’m just so surprised, Doctor.’
‘Why? You came to me feeling sickly and complaining of aching breasts. What else did you think it was?’ He was laughing at her gently.
Shanni put her hand over her stomach, trying to imagine a child growing inside her womb. For a moment she was filled with excitement and then she started to count the days. She swallowed hard, trying to remember when she and Pedr had been together. They had a vigorous love life so in all probability the child was his. Please let it be his, she prayed silently.
The doctor misread her silence. ‘It’s perfectly natural, my dear. Women do it every day – give birth, I mean. You will be fine, so no worrying now.’
‘You’re right, of course, Doctor, and thank you. I’d better get home.’
‘Anxious to break the good news to your husband, I imagine,’ Dr Mortimer said. ‘I’m sure Pedr will be delighted, and you will too, once you take it all in.’
Shanni left the doctor’s house with mixed feelings. She walked into the park and sat on a tree stump, trying to work out when the baby was conceived. The doctor had been vague about dates and times, and Shanni sought hope that the baby might be Pedr’s child but she found none.
She clasped her hands together, trying to think things through in a sensible way. What if she had Dafydd’s child? No one would know, would they? Dafydd was dark-haired, but so was Pedr. Both men were strong and well-built – perhaps even she would not know whose child she had borne. But did she want to be like Llinos Mainwaring, foisting an illegitimate child on her husband? Look
at the trouble that had caused: Joe Mainwaring had gone to America, leaving his wife behind.
She sat for a long time, staring up into the sky, wondering what to do. She did not want to hurt Pedr – she loved him too much for that.
Could she live with a lie hanging over her head? And if not, what was the alternative? She closed her eyes, not wanting even to think of losing the child in her womb. But there seemed no other way out of the mess.
She made up her mind to go to see Mrs Keen, find out how to lose the baby. It was the only way and, really, it was not wicked, was it? Either she had the child and faced the consequences, or she could miscarry. It was a terrible choice but she had brought trouble upon herself when she chose to break her marriage vows.
She cooked Pedr a hearty meal of rabbit stew and fresh crusty bread – he was always hungry after a day at the pottery. When he came in, he grinned as he took her in his arms and hugged her close. ‘Looking after me well, aren’t you, cariad?’ He planted a kiss on her lips. ‘What are you after? A new coat, or is it boots this time?’
‘Hey, cheek! No, I had the day off from work so I thought I’d cook you something nice. I wasn’t feeling very well and I decided the pottery office could do without me for a day or two. Perhaps you’ll take a letter in to Mr Buchan explaining things for me.’
Pedr looked concerned. ‘What’s wrong, my little love? You’re not really sick, are you?’
‘Just a chill in the stomach, nothing to worry about. Now, come and eat your supper before it gets cold.’ She sat at the table with him and stared in distaste at the stew. How could she even pretend to eat when she felt overwhelmed with guilt?
The idea of bearing Dafydd’s baby made her want to vomit – yet how could she think of killing her child? Perhaps she could consider her options for a day or two. Tonight she would forget there was anything wrong and perhaps in the morning her mind would be clearer.