Dream Catcher

by Iris Gower

  Joe held her close, smoothing back her hair. ‘It was his time, he was ready. Come away now.’ He led her into the sitting room and rang the bell. Meggie came at once, looked at Llinos, saw her distress and put her hand to her mouth.

  ‘Send for Celia, Meggie.’ Llinos said. ‘My father is dead.’

  ‘Oh my Lord!’ Meggie began to wail, she gripped her apron and twisted it between her fingers. ‘He’s dead, Captain Savage is dead!’ She stared up at Joe, horror in her eyes. ‘You have killed him with all that heathen muck! I hope you’re satisfied!’

  She flung open the door and rushed outside and Llinos could hear her screaming like a demented creature.

  Llinos was sitting in a chair, her head in her hands, when Celia came into the room. The old woman rested her gnarled hand on Llinos’s shoulder and made clucking noises.

  ‘There, there, Llinos, it’s for the best. You wouldn’t want to see your father suffering any longer, would you?’ She looked up at Joe and he nodded, leading the way to Lloyd’s room. Slowly Llinos followed.

  Celia stood beside the bed looking down at Lloyd Savage: owner of the pottery, rich, influential. Llinos heard her mumbling. ‘All the money in the world won’t help him now.’

  After a moment, she glanced and waved Joe away. ‘Leave me, this is my business. I will do whatever is necessary.’ She paused. ‘Oh, and you’d better shut that Meggie up, the girl is crying bloody murder to anyone who’ll listen.’

  Llinos allowed Joe to take her back to the drawing room. He knelt beside her and drew her head against his shoulder. Her tears came at last, shuddering through her small frame.

  ‘Tears are healing, my love,’ Joe said. ‘The pain, the sorrow, the shock of death must be washed away before acceptance can begin.’

  She heard him but she did not believe his words. Her pain and sorrow would never go away. There were still nights when she dreamed of her mother’s death. Nights when she could not sleep for the injustice inflicted on her mother by Bert Cimla. The memory of her mother’s last days would always haunt her. And now her father was gone from her too.

  Joe held her for a long time and, at last, she sat away from him and dabbed at her eyes with a foolish piece of lace.

  ‘I was reading to him, Joe. He was breathing so peacefully, he just closed his eyes and fell asleep. I let him die alone. How could I? When you woke me I looked at him and he was dead.’ Tears welled again and rolled down her cheeks. Joe wiped them away with gentle fingers.

  ‘You were with him, in the room with him. Your spirits were joined at the end, I’m sure about that. He didn’t leave this world alone, believe me.’

  ‘You always know just what to say, don’t you?’

  ‘Not always.’

  Llinos looked up sharply, there was a commotion outside in the roadway; the sound of raised voices, ominous, threatening. Joe rose and moved to the door. A crowd had gathered: people of the row, men and women workers from the pottery. Watt elbowed his way through the people and entered the hallway.

  ‘Is it true, Joe, is the captain dead?’

  ‘It’s true. Get rid of these people, Watt, their gossip and noise will upset Llinos and she’s upset enough as it is.’

  ‘There’s the physician,’ Watt said. ‘He wants to see Mr Savage, shall I let him in?’ Watt took charge, ordering the crowd to make way for the Dr Jones.

  Joe shook his head but stepped aside. ‘It is too late for a physician, I’ve done what needed to be done.’

  The doctor ignored him as he entered the house. Joe pointed the way to the room where Lloyd lay. Llinos heard Watt talking calmly to the people, telling them to return home or to their work.

  Dr Jones looked at Joe oddly and suddenly Llinos was afraid. He walked away and the sound of a door closing abruptly echoed through the hall. The gesture was an indication of how little the doctor thought of her husband. Llinos saw Joe shrug and she knew what he must be thinking. Lloyd Savage was dead, there was nothing anyone could do about it.

  ‘You can’t stop people talking, Watt.’ Lily was looking up at him. As she looked down at her hands, her slim neck bent forward, Watt felt his stomach contract with warmth and love and, if he admitted to it, with lust. They were sitting outside on the river bank. Lily’s shawl had slipped from her shoulders revealing a pale area of flesh.

  ‘But it’s so daft!’ he said, trying to concentrate on the conversation. ‘Why should Joe want Lloyd dead?’

  Lily shrugged. ‘I don’t know, perhaps he got fed up of looking after him. Perhaps he wanted the captain’s money.’

  ‘Joe has money enough of his own,’ Watt said. ‘He has lands and property just outside Monmouth. In any case, Joe could not hurt a fly.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Lily said. She rose to her feet. ‘I’d better get off home, my landlady is very strict about time. If I am not there when she serves supper I shall have to go without.’ She smiled and he wanted to kiss the soft moist mouth turned up towards him. He almost leaned forward but Lily, as if sensing his intention, moved quickly away.

  ‘I am a good girl, Watt,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I hope you realize that.’

  ‘I do!’ He fell into step beside her. ‘I have the deepest respect for you. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt or offend you.’ He paused. ‘Is it all right for me to walk you home?’

  She smiled shyly. ‘I suppose so.’

  Watt felt ten feet tall as he walked towards the Strand with Lily at his side. One day, when they knew each other better, he would ask her to be his wife. She was beautiful, talented and good. He would love her for ever.

  The boarding house was a tall, dour building but Lily’s room was quite large and faced the street. It was on the first floor and the window jutted outwards, letting in light and air. Lily did not ask him inside.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow in work,’ he said, hesitating on the landing. He felt awkward, not knowing how to take his leave of her, not wanting the closeness between them to end.

  It was Lily who resolved the problem. She reached up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Then, with a flurry of skirts, she had gone, closing the door firmly against him.

  Too restless to return home, Watt walked into Wind Street and stopped at the Swansea Inn. There some of the workers from the pottery usually gathered, men weary from the day’s labour, seeking ease in a glass of ale and congenial company.

  ‘Hey there, Watt, come and have a drink with me.’ John Pendennis was sitting with a crowd of young men; he seemed to have made himself very much part of the community in the short time he had been in Swansea.

  As Watt hesitated, old Ben the kiln man raised his hand in greeting. ‘Watt, come here, I want to talk to you.’

  Watt shrugged in John’s direction and the man smiled good-naturedly. He was not one to be slighted easily, but then he had come from good stock; a rich and privileged background. John Pendennis might have fallen on hard times but he had the confidence that comes with breeding.

  Watt made his way towards Ben and smiled down at the old man. Often they had shared a loaf when the going at the pottery had been hard.

  ‘Hello there, Ben, you’re looking well. How’s the bone ache these days?’

  Ben nodded to the wooden seat beside him. ‘Not so bad, not now the cold weather has relented a bit.’ Ben looked at him closely. ‘Old master is dead, then. Murdered, they say, by the Indian.’

  Watt waved to the landlord, indicating he fetch two mugs of ale, giving himself time to think.

  ‘That’s nonsense,’ he said at last. ‘Captain Savage has been sick since the war, you know that, Ben.’

  ‘Aye, but the doctor been up there to look at the corpse took some bottles away with him, looking for poison, so they say.’

  Watt took the drinks from the landlord and drank deeply of the beer. If folks kept on gossiping what had begun as a burst of hysteria from one of the maids would become a fact in the minds of the townspeople.

  ‘The captain will be laid to rest in the churchyard the da
y after tomorrow, then folks will forget all this rubbish.’

  ‘Well, perhaps not,’ Ben said. ‘Seems Dr Jones has gone to some of the landowners. It might well be that the yeomanry will have something to say about all this. A constable could be brought in to sort things out.’

  Watt felt a tingle of alarm begin to raise the hairs on his scalp. ‘Who told you that, Ben?’

  ‘The doctor’s footman was in here earlier this evening, says the doc don’t like the heathen giving a man of Captain Savage’s standing foreign muck instead of proper potions.’

  Watt drunk his ale in one gulp, threw some coins on the table and rose to his feet. He could not stay and listen to such talk. To pay attention to gossip was to give it substance.

  ‘See you, Ben, look after yourself and don’t believe too much in idle gossip.’

  Watt strode out into the street and stared up at the sky. It had grown darker now, the clouds were gathering over the rooftops. He must get back to the pottery, talk to Llinos. What he would say he did not know, but somehow he must warn her that Joe might be in danger.

  With one last look at the lighted windows behind him Watt set off towards Pottery Row and home.

  Llinos stared along the dining table and in the mist from her unshed tears the candles in the silver holders shimmered and danced as if they had a life of their own.

  ‘Joe,’ she said at last, ‘I know that this is a sad time for us, a time of mourning, but it’s a time of hope for the future, too.’

  He looked at her and put down the damask napkin. His smile was warm and full of love.

  ‘You are having our child.’

  She shook her head in exasperation. ‘Is there anything you don’t know?’

  He rose and came to her and kissed the back of her neck. ‘I know my wife, my Firebird, very well indeed.’

  ‘It seems you do.’ She turned into his arms and felt his mouth on hers. She loved him so much and now she would give him the finest gift any woman could give her husband, a child. It was hard to believe, she, Llinos Mainwaring, was going to have a baby, Joe’s baby. So absorbed was she in her moment of joy that she failed to notice the troubled look in Joe’s eyes.

  ‘If we have a boy, can we call him Joseph?’ she asked.

  ‘It would be a fine compromise. I suppose Wah-he-joe-tass-e-neen would be rather a mouthful for a small baby.’ He spoke in a low voice, attempting a lightness of spirit which he did not feel.

  She leaned forward in her chair. ‘He will be brave and handsome like you, he will go to a good school to be educated and he will grow up with every advantage.’

  ‘Except that his father is a half Indian.’ For once Joe appeared uncertain and Llinos was touched.

  ‘He will be proud,’ she said fiercely. ‘We will take him to see the hills and plains and rivers of America. He will meet your mother’s people and he will love them as I do.’

  She sighed and looked down at her hands. ‘But his birth is some months away. For now we are going to have to talk about the funeral.’ She paused. ‘I wish I’d told my father about the baby.’

  ‘Don’t worry, my love, as regards the funeral, I have attended to everything.’

  She nodded gratefully. Joe was so kind, so thoughtful, she might have known he would spare her the distress of ordering a coffin, arranging transportation to the churchyard. She knew she could trust him to do everything with suitable dignity.

  She sighed heavily, twisting her napkin and dropping it onto the table. ‘I think I’ll go to bed early, Joe, I feel a little tired.’

  ‘You have eaten very little,’ he said. ‘But perhaps sleep will do you more good than food right now. I’ll be with you shortly.’

  As Llinos crossed the hall, she paused for a moment outside the room where her father lay. She pushed the door open and saw, in the shimmer of candlelight, the still form of Lloyd Savage: soldier, landowner, successful merchant. He was at peace. The lines of pain had eased from his face and his hair, freshly washed by Celia, still sparkled with droplets of water. He had been a handsome man once, no wonder her mother had fallen in love with him.

  In the flickering light he seemed to be smiling, to be giving her his blessing. She leaned forward and the strong waft of rose water drifted from the bed. She glanced into the corner and shuddered as she saw the coffin, standing upright, waiting for her father to occupy it. From the house he would be carried to the cemetery looking over the hill and the sea. He would lie at peace. She placed her hand on her still flat stomach. Her son would carry the blood of Lloyd Savage. She would ask Joe if the name Savage could be given to the child.

  ‘You will not be forgotten, Father, I promise you.’

  She knelt and bent her head in prayer, saying the psalms she had learned as a child. The familiarity of the words comforted her. At last she rose and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her as if, even now, a sudden noise might disturb her father.

  Upstairs, in the bedroom she shared with Joe, she began to undress. Meggie entered the room and bobbed a curtsy. Her eyes were downcast and red from crying.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs Mainwaring, but there’s some people at the door. They’re asking for Mr Mainwaring so I thought I’d best fetch you.’

  ‘People, at this time of night? What people?’ Llinos was frightened. What was going on?

  ‘Well, there’s the constable and some of the landowners. They say they have come to fetch your father’s corpse, God rest his soul.’ She made the sign of the cross. ‘The constable said something about “death by poisoning”.’

  Llinos felt a coldness spread through her veins. Quickly she pulled a cloak over her shift and hurried from the room. In the hallway she could hear voices, loud and angry, and then, with a sign of relief, she heard Joe’s voice, calm as always.

  ‘What is it, what’s happened?’ she demanded, standing on the stairs and looking down at the men. ‘What do you mean by coming into my house at night like thieves?’

  The constable moved forward. Llinos recognized him at once: he was the owner of one of the manufactories that stood on the river bank.

  ‘Mr Jefferson, please explain what all this is about.’ She appealed to him directly and descended the last of the stairs to stand at Joe’s side.

  ‘I’m sorry, Llinos – Mrs Mainwaring – the doctor is not satisfied that your father’s death was a natural one.’

  ‘How absurd!’ Llinos said holding her cloak more closely around her. ‘You all know he has been sick for a very long time.’

  ‘That’s true enough.’ The constable looked around as if for support. It was Dr Jones who spoke.

  ‘There have been accusations made, Llinos, please understand that they need to be looked into.’

  ‘You are surely not giving credence to the silly stories about poison being administered to my father, are you, Doctor?’

  He sighed heavily. ‘Llinos, I’m sorry to tell you this but one of the potions I took away with me contained a substance that could, in excess, cause death.’

  Joe raised his hand. ‘And, Doctor, in moderation, the same substance eases pain, is that not the case?’

  ‘Well, yes but we need to . . . to look at the body most closely to ascertain the amount of the substance in the organs. You do understand, don’t you, Llinos?’

  ‘No!’ she said. ‘I can not let you cut my father’s body to pieces on a foolish superstition. I won’t give my permission.’

  The constable looked at her regretfully. ‘I am afraid it is out of your control and mine. The order comes directly from Judge Cornwall.’

  It was a nightmare. Llinos watched, her mouth dry, as her father was placed in the coffin and carried out of the front door and into the row. Doors were opened and lights from many candles spilled onto the cobbles as the coffin was lifted into the carriage. The rattle of wheels resounded in Llinos’s head as Joe took her arm and led her back indoors, closing the door firmly behind them.

  In the hallway he took her in his arms and held he
r close. She pressed her face against his broadness, knowing in her heart that he was in danger.

  ‘Everything is going to be all right,’ he said, his mouth against her hair. But, for once, the tone of confidence in his voice was absent.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE MORNING LIGHT brought with it a sense of relief. Surely, with the rising of the sun, the events of the previous night would prove to be a bad dream. Llinos sat up in bed as Meggie drew the curtains open and it was then that she realized Joe was not beside her.

  ‘Where is Mr Mainwaring?’ Llinos knew her tone was sharp but her heart was beating fast and her mouth was dry with fear.

  ‘He went out early, miss.’

  ‘Did he say where he was going?’

  ‘No, miss. Shall I bring you some tea, miss?’

  Llinos was already slipping from under the blankets. ‘No, thank you, Meggie, I shall come downstairs presently.’

  She made a hasty toilet and for once wished she had asked the maid to lay out her clothes. She selected a darkly coloured dress at random and drew it over her shoulders. It was unsuitably thin for the time of year but it would have to do. Downstairs the house was held in a brooding silence, even the usual clatter of activity from the kitchen was hushed. But then, whatever else had happened, this was a house in mourning and the servants would respect that.

  ‘I’ve taken the liberty of putting up a tray of tea and some toast for you, miss,’ Meggie said.

  ‘I couldn’t eat a thing but a strong cup of tea will be nice.’

  Meggie stood, head bowed, almost wringing her hands in agitation.

  ‘I’ve got to talk to you, miss, this is all my fault.’ She began to cry and Llinos led her into the dining room.

  ‘Sit down, Meggie,’ Llinos said. The girl looked up through reddened eyes. ‘When I knew the captain was dead, I got a little mad. I ran into the street, I told everyone what I’d overheard Mr Mainwaring saying, you know about the captain wanting to die out of it and asking for help.’

  ‘I see.’ Llinos sighed heavily. She did see, someone had taken as gospel truth the hysteria of a maid and the appearance of the yeomanry on the doorstep was the result.