by Iris Gower
‘When I meet the right man, then and only then will I have feelings,’ Lily retorted. Her words were brave but deep inside her she was afraid that she had no feelings, they had been stamped out of her by the atmosphere at the workhouse. There she had been one of many, the despised poor, patronized by people like Llinos Mainwaring, taken in as if she were a stray cat and expected to be grateful. How she hated them all.
‘Do you think Mr Marks is the right man?’ Polly persisted as she pushed shut the door of the bedroom with her foot. ‘He’s handsome and rich, he seems to like you.’
‘Maybe,’ Lily said noncommittally. She shrugged off her clothes and hung her good coat on the hook behind the door. The jug on the table was almost empty and Lily sighed. She would have to traipse downstairs to the pump in the backyard, it was not a prospect she relished. She looked at Polly, the girl was still fully dressed.
‘Do us a favour, Poll,’ she said, ‘fetch some water for me.’
‘What for?’
‘I want to wash.’ Lily sighed. ‘Go on, Polly, just as a favour this once.’
‘It’s cold,’ Polly said. ‘And dark. I don’t want to go back down, I’ll catch my death.’ She pulled off her coat quickly, followed by her skirt and blouse and Lily shook her head in despair.
She made do with the small amount of water in the jug and pulled on her nightgown. It was no nightgown at all but one of her old and patched shifts; imagine Saul seeing her like this, he would think her lacking in taste. As she climbed into bed, she wondered if she should spend some of her savings on some pretty nightwear. But no, it would be a long time before events moved on in that direction.
‘Don’t sulk now,’ Polly said, taking her silence for moodiness. ‘Too much washing isn’t good for you, I’ve told you that before.’ She drew the bedclothes up to her chin and stared at Lily with laughter in her eyes.
Lily, disgruntled, turned her back, glad that she did not have to share a bed with the other girl. Sometimes Polly got on her nerves. She closed her eyes disconsolately. Was she destined to be shut up in a small, airless room with only Polly, or someone like her, for company for ever more? The only alternative was marriage and, somehow, she had the feeling that Mr Saul Marks did not have marriage in mind.
It was a long time before Lily fell asleep but when she did, she dreamed of rose petals and lovely silk gowns and churches with bells ringing out. When she woke, she felt renewed. Marriage, she decided, must be her goal. It was, after all, her only way out and though it was tantamount to selling her body, just as Polly did, it would at least be in the respectable role of wife. So when she saw Saul Marks again, she must charm him. She must allow him a glimpse of ankle, just as Polly told her. Or bend forward and let him see the fullness of her bosom. It was not a prospect she relished but, suddenly, Saul’s approval had become very important and she would do all she could to get it.
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘I CAN’T SAY I’m surprised that John Pendennis chose to stay in America.’ Llinos was seated close to the fire, her bare feet drawn up beneath her. ‘He always seemed a bit aloof, a bit out of place here. What I am surprised about is that we’ve had no word from him, not even a short note of thanks for the backing you gave him.’
Joe shrugged. ‘I didn’t buy the man’s soul, Llinos. I think there are problems in John’s life that have hardened him, made him look out for himself.’
‘You are very charitable.’ Llinos spoke dryly. ‘I’m inclined to believe that he saw the opportunity for a free trip and took it with both hands. Now, from everything Watt tells us, John has thrown in his lot with this American McCabe.’
She glanced across at her husband; his face was in shadow, only the glow from the fire highlighted the red-brown of his skin. She ached with love for him; he was kind, generous and yet he seemed destined to have his kindness thrown in his face.
Charlotte’s voice drifted in from the hall, Llinos sat up and straightened her gown. ‘Charlotte,’ Llinos said, ‘come and sit here near the fire.’ Samuel held Charlotte’s arm and he led her to a chair and settled her comfortably before smiling and bowing in Llinos’s direction.
‘You don’t mind a bit of company, do you?’ he asked diffidently and Llinos smiled warmly at him. She liked the old man; he was gentle and very patient with Charlotte who was afflicted with arthritis. The cold weather made her condition more painful.
‘You are most welcome,’ she said. ‘It’s good to see you looking happy together, the company is good for both of you.’ She looked meaningfully at Charlotte. ‘Do I sense a romance blossoming?’
Charlotte actually blushed. ‘Away with you Llinos!’ she said reprovingly. ‘Sam and I are friends, good friends. We are too old for anything else, aren’t we, Sam?’
‘You are the epitome of beauty to me,’ Samuel said sincerely. ‘I have never been so happy as I am now.’
The old couple sat side by side on the deep, cushioned sofa, smiling at each other like young lovers. Llinos caught Joe’s eye and he nodded, willing to join in the good-natured banter.
‘Well, if there’s a marriage in the offing, I hope I shall be asked my permission in the usual way. After all, it isn’t every day a man gives his sister away.’
‘Oh, Joe!’ Charlotte’s head was lowered but Samuel took her hands in his. ‘Charlotte, my dear,’ he said, ‘I think marriage between us is a wonderful idea. If Joe hadn’t spoken, I don’t think I would have had the courage to ask you to be my wife.’ He held up his hand. ‘Now, I know we’ve only been friends for a short time but for us, at our age, time is short.’ He laughed at his own joke.
He slid awkwardly onto one bony knee. ‘Charlotte, will you consent to be my wife?’ He turned to look at Joe and smiled broadly. ‘With your brother’s permission, of course.’
‘Oh, Sam!’ Charlotte clutched his hands. ‘I don’t know what to say! Yes I do! I would love to be your wife. It’s an honour and a privilege I never expected to come my way.’
Llinos looked at Joe, her eyebrows raised. Joe made a face at her. ‘Well then, after due consideration of the man and his character,’ he paused and Charlotte looked at him anxiously, ‘I give my permission and my heartfelt congratulations.’
Joe rang for the maid. ‘Meggie, bring me a bottle of the best claret from the cellar,’ he said, ‘and a tray of glasses. This is a celebration.’
Charlotte held both her small, lined hands to her face. ‘Dearie me, a bride at my age, what will people think?’ There were tears in her faded blue eyes but happiness radiated from her.
Llinos hugged her. ‘They will think that Samuel is a very lucky man.’ She kissed Charlotte’s warm cheek, breathing in the scent of lavender. Charlotte was small and thin in her arms and a feeling of protectiveness filled her. She held Charlotte away from her. ‘You are a wonderful lady, Charlotte, and I am proud you are my sister-in-law.’
The evening took on a festive atmosphere: Samuel played bright tunes on the piano and Charlotte watched him, as adoring as any young lady in love for the first time. And it was the first time for Charlotte, she had never been in the company of men before and even if she had been, she would never have found a man as good, as kind and as understanding as her Samuel.
Later, when Llinos was in bed, cradled in her husband’s arm, she prayed that nothing would happen to spoil the calm happiness of her life. Yesterday a letter had arrived from Grantley wishing them well in the future and begging them to call on his services if ever they needed him. Even the sight of the lawyer’s name at the foot of the paper was enough to send a wave of fear through her. She was restless that night and it was almost as if she knew that out there, in the darkness of the Swansea streets, someone was planning to do her ill.
‘Aye, married to Gwen Savage I was, for a time.’ The back room of the Castle Inn was almost empty but a good fire still burned in the huge fireplace and the mugs of beer were delivered to the table at increasingly regular intervals.
Saul Marks looked at the bearded, unkempt man sea
ted opposite him with distaste but he was already aware that this man Cimla could be of use to him.
‘How did that come about?’ he asked. ‘I thought her husband died recently, some say at the hands of the Indian fellow.’
‘Nothing would surprise me there.’ Cimla supped his drink noisily and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Droplets of beer clung like sweat to his tangled beard.
‘What do you mean by that?’ Saul was growing impatient with the man who was looking pointedly at his empty mug. Saul waved a hand to the landlord and ordered two more beers but left his untouched. He needed a clear head at all times, no-one knew when an enemy would pounce.
He glanced around as though he expected a villain to attack him from behind. Cimla’s voice drew his attention once more.
‘We all thought Lloyd Savage was dead and gone, killed in the wars with France, but no, he had to turn up like a bad penny brought home by that cursed Indian.’
‘So it was out into the streets with you, then?’ Saul was interested, it was clear the man would know a great deal about the family having lived in Pottery House. He was a likely candidate to do any dirty work that might be too tedious or too obvious for Saul to do himself.
‘Oh, aye, bag and baggage. Gwen died, see, so there was no-one to speak up for me. As for that brat Llinos, she always hated me.’
Saul digested this in silence for a moment. ‘What do you know about the Indian?’ This was his real concern, that he get rid of Joe Mainwaring. Hate burned inside Saul’s breast; the man had taken what was rightfully his, a prime piece of land in America. There had to be some way of getting it back and having his revenge on the man into the bargain. Cimla’s answer was disappointing.
‘Not a lot, really. I got some of his potions though, stole ’em one night from the pantry at the back of the fool of a doctor’s house. I thought that I could use ’em for blackmail or something.’ He smiled, his teeth jutting forward as though threatening to fall out of his mouth. ‘It backfired on me though, the Indian got off because of lack of evidence.’
Saul mulled this over, wondering if it would benefit him to buy the Indian’s potions from the man. They could come in useful.
‘How much do you want for them?’ he asked casually, but in spite of his careful tone, he saw a crafty look come into the other man’s face.
‘Don’t think I want to sell ’em,’ Cimla said. ‘I tried one sip out of the bottle and it put me to sleep. Good stuff, see, handy when the bugs bite in the night.’
‘Oh, fair enough.’ Saul took some change from his pocket and threw it on the table. ‘I’ll see you round then.’ He made to rise but Cimla looked sharply at him.
‘Not so hasty! I suppose I would sell the stuff for the right price but, remember, too much of it would kill a body stone dead.’
Saul sank back into his chair. He was hungry for the stuff, excited by Cimla’s claims but it did not pay to show the man how hungry.
‘On second thoughts, I don’t know if it will be any good to me,’ Saul said. ‘I only wanted to try it on a young lady of my acquaintance, coax her into bed, that sort of thing.’
‘Give us a couple of coppers then,’ Cimla said. ‘I suppose I can always get some more for myself. I reckon the Indian is still making the stuff.’ He grinned. ‘Want me to fetch it now?’
‘Why not? I’ll come with you.’ The two men left the inn and the landlord, with a sleepy yawn, locked up behind them. Some folks, it seemed, did not have a bed to go to.
It took only a few minutes to arrive at the run-down lodging house that was home to Bert Cimla. Saul wrinkled his nose in distaste at the smell of urine and stale cabbage.
‘It’s not much but it’s all I can afford, thanks to that blasted Llinos and her family.’
Cimla disappeared up the stairs to return shortly with a bottle of liquid. Saul handed him some money and then left the house, glad to be out in the night air. Close to, Bert Cimla smelled like a goat.
In his own lodgings Saul lay on his bed and studied the bottle carefully. It was not labelled. He took out the stopper and sniffed the contents. The pungent scent of flowers and grasses made him gasp. It would be just as well to try it out on someone before he attempted to use it. He smiled to himself in the darkness, he knew exactly who he would try it on.
The next evening he invited Lily to visit his lodging house. She was reticent at first but he managed to convince her that it would all be quite proper with his landlady, not to mention other guests, to chaperone them. She had agreed at last, lured by the promise of a gift. It was clear that the little Lily was an avaricious young lady which to his mind was no bad thing.
‘Come along, Lily, I’m drinking myself, don’t be a killjoy.’ Saul was seated beside her in the comfortable sitting room of his landlady’s house. Two older guests were at the other side of the room endlessly knitting and gossiping and, after a brief appraisal of the couple, had ignored them.
It was no hardship entertaining the young woman who seemed to have taken such a liking to him. It was clear she admired him by the way her face lit up when she saw him. Of course she was far beneath him socially but still, to all intents and purposes, she was a prime candidate for his little experiment. She had no family, no ties, no-one who would ask questions if anything unforeseen happened to her. Indeed, in some ways, he hoped it would, then he would know he could accomplish his task of ridding himself of his father and laying the blame at Joe Mainwaring’s door.
‘There is no alcohol in it, I promise you,’ he said. ‘The landlady made it herself and she’s against strong liquor.’
Lily took a tentative sip and smiled. ‘It’s nice, it tastes of oranges and petals and something I can’t quite make out.’
Saul took a deep draught of his own cordial, it was the same as Lily’s except for one important ingredient, the potion Cimla had given him. He watched Lily carefully as she seemed to relax from her usual tight reserve. She smiled more and a becoming blush coloured her normally pale face.
When she had emptied her glass he refilled it, watching her carefully all the time. Slowly, she sank back in her chair and her eyelids began to droop. Saul rose to his feet and took her arm and guided her from the room. In the hall he paused, she was becoming heavier in his arms, it was time he got her home. Out in the street he thanked his lucky stars that her lodging house was only a short distance away.
The house was dark and silently, Saul half-carried her up the stairs. He knew which was her room, he had seen her in the window often enough when he called on her. Unerringly, he took her to the bedroom expecting to find the irrepressible Polly in residence but the room was empty and silent.
Saul lowered Lily onto the bed and bent to adjust her skirts around her legs. Then he paused; why waste such a very good opportunity? She wanted him, she had made that plain enough more than once and chances like this one, to be alone with a young woman, were rare indeed.
He sank onto the bed beside her and slowly began to undress her.
‘Duw, what’s happened to you, girl?’ Polly’s voice startled Lily into wakefulness. She sat up in bed and gasped when she saw that she was naked. Her thighs were bruised and it was as if a fire was burning low down in her belly.
‘Don’t tell me, you got bedded at last, ‘bout time too!’ Polly flopped on the bed and snuggled down under the blankets even though the dawn light was already warming the room into life.
‘What do you mean?’ lily said in a small voice. She strained to look down at her breasts; there were marks near her nipples. She fell back in bed pulling the blanket over her as though by hiding herself she could pretend nothing had happened.
‘Who was it?’ Polly giggled. ‘And was he any good?’
Lily swallowed hard, trying to clear her muddled thoughts. Saul, she had been with him in his lodging house. They had drunk a little and she had felt lightheaded almost at once. She remembered him leading her from the room but after that everything was a blur.
‘I’ve been taken adv
antage of,’ she said uncertainly. ‘Saul Marks must have got me drunk and had his way with me.’ She was too shocked to cry. Polly put her arm around her.
‘There, there, don’t fret, love, you lost your innocence and no harm done ’cos you didn’t feel it hurt, being drunk, did you?’
‘I was saving myself though.’ Lily felt outrage run through her like a fire, what she had deemed her finest asset, her innocence, had been taken from her. She pushed Polly aside and slid out of the bed, tipping the water from the jug into the bowl and began to wash.
‘I’ll tell everyone what the monster has done to me, he can’t get away with it!’ she said angrily.
‘Hey now, hang on there.’ Polly was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide. ‘You can’t go accusing anyone, especially not a man like Saul Marks. He won’t take no nonsense, not him.’
Lily began to shiver and Polly drew Lily back into the warmth of the blankets. ‘No, sir, think about it. He’ll just say you were drunk, that you wanted it, that’s what they all say, that’s what started me on the caper.’
Lily felt worse. Polly thought she was just the same sort of loose woman that she was. She put her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming and Polly sighed and brushed back her hair.
‘There, you calm down now. I’ll slip downstairs and sneak some milk for you, that will make you feel better.’
When she was alone Lily stared down at herself, unable to believe what had happened. But it was true, she had lost her innocence and there was nothing she could do about it. She said as much to Polly when the girl returned with a mug brimming with milk. Polly looked at her for a long moment.
‘Now I don’t know about that,’ she said, rubbing her cheek. She frowned in concentration, biting her lip with the effort to think.
‘What about his family, ’as he got any folks?’
‘Well yes,’ Lily said. ‘His father lives with Llinos. He’s very old and I don’t think he gets on with Saul.’