by Iris Gower
‘Sometimes I think I hate my husband.’ Mrs Sparks’s tone was bitter and Lily was shocked; Mrs Sparks should know better than talking like that about the man who provided her with a home and respectability. Lily longed to be out of the house, to be free for an hour or so. She had agreed to meet Betty; they were going for a rare treat of coffee at one of the houses near the seashore.
‘I don’t suppose your husband left you any inheritance at all then, did he?’
Lily thought of the dwindling store of money she had stolen from James and his companions. ‘I do have a little money,’ she said proudly.
‘Then you should allow my husband to invest it for you,’ Alice said. ‘Perhaps in some worthy charity. I confess to being a little bored with Mr Sparks but, as a bank manager, he has his uses.’ She laughed and Lily thought again how like a cat she looked with her tiny pointed teeth and her green eyes.
‘Think about it, Lily, your little bit of money, wisely invested, could make you rich. Now run along, I need to rest.’
Lily was late for her meeting and Betty was already seated in the window of the coffee house, waiting anxiously for her to appear. Betty’s broad face broke into a smile when she caught sight of Lily and she warmed to her. Betty was not so bad, a little dull perhaps but she had a good heart. Lily took off her gloves and sat down opposite Betty, leaning forward across the white cloth on the table.
‘Wait until you hear what I’ve got to tell you!’ she said in a sibilant whisper. ‘I don’t think that Mrs Sparks is the lady she makes herself out to be! She told me she hates her husband.’
Betty shrugged. ‘Nothing new in that, love, it’s what most women feel.’
Lily was disappointed, she thought Betty would be interested in a little malicious gossiping but Betty was already looking at the bill of fare, her eyes glowing in anticipation of a fresh hot cake and a mug of coffee.
Alice had been toying with Lily; the girl was so gullible that she had been an easy target. She had been married once but had found the experience most distasteful. Silly girl, she did not know what she was missing.
Still, it would be useful if Lily were to hand over her money. The last thing Alice would do was to give it to Edward. She wanted to amass a store of funds so that she could be independent of her husband. If she waited for Edward to provide the luxuries of life she would wait a long time.
Eynon Morton-Edwards need not think he had got off lightly either; he must be made to pay for his fun. He had got her pregnant and whether he liked it or not she needed help from him. The trick was to find an excuse to get out to see him. Edward thought a woman’s place was in the home, especially a woman in her condition.
When Edward returned home that night, he slumped into his chair and, at once, Alice brought him a drink of porter. He looked at her in surprise. She rarely stirred out of her chair, usually waiting for Edward to ring for the maid.
‘I’m a little restless, darling,’ she said. ‘I think I need something to fill my time.’ She saw him look at her with suspicion; Edward was beginning to know her. ‘Perhaps I could do some charity work. It would at least get me out of the house and I might make some influential friends into the bargain.’
She saw him frown as if considering the matter; his thought processes were so slow she could almost see the wheels turning inside his head. He rubbed his chin and looked at her.
‘What sort of charity work did you have in mind? Nothing too heavy, I hope, not with you in such a delicate condition.’ He could not conceal his pride; he thought his inept fumblings had got her pregnant, the fool.
‘Well, what about a charity for destitute women?’ She stared at him impatiently. ‘That should make me some friends.’
He digested her words. She felt like kicking him: was making a decision so difficult for him? Heaven help his customers.
‘All right in theory but such things cost money and I am in no position to fund a venture of that sort.’
‘Oh I would not expect you to, Edward. No, the idea is to bring money in, not hand it out. I mean to approach prominent citizens of the town and involve them in the work. With my family connections, I’m sure I could fund the whole thing most adequately with donations from the rich. Think how good it would look for you, it would surely advance your position in the bank. The rich men who get girls into trouble will pay handsomely to have them taken off their hands.’
There was silence for what seemed an eternity and then Edward Sparks actually smiled. ‘Do you know, I think you have something there.’ He looked at her in admiration. ‘We could make quite a good profit from the scheme, legitimate expenses for the administrators of the charity, of course.’
She clapped her hands. ‘How clever of you, darling!’ She was well aware of the ‘we’ he used. Still, she was pleased with her story. If she did manage to get Eynon to pay up, the charity idea would serve her very nicely. She was not above creaming off a little of the donations for her own use.
‘You approve then, Edward?’ she asked demurely. She saw the light of the fanatic in his eyes; nothing was more dear to him than the prospect of becoming rich. But he spoke calmly.
‘Just so long as you do not overstrain yourself, my dear.’ He smiled, something he did not do too often. ‘I wouldn’t like you to put at risk the son you carry for me.’
‘I would never do that, Edward,’ she said softly, her eyes lowered. She wondered if he would suggest taking her to bed, something he only attempted when he was particularly pleased with life. But this time he made no suggestion, he was too wrapped up in his thoughts of climbing up the social ladder. Not that any self-respecting member of high society would countenance him for a moment. Alice bit her lip in frustration. She was tied to an imbecile but only for now. One day she would leave Edward, she would think only of herself and he could go to hell his own way. Until then, she would run her little scheme, mix with the gentry and hopefully make a nice little profit into the bargain.
Betty was looking at Lily with wide eyes. They were walking back along the Strand; the night was closing in and Lily was nervous about being alone in the dark. Betty walked confidently at her side but then Betty was a resilient young woman, of larger stature than Lily and with something of the peasant about her.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ Betty said. ‘Does this Mr Sparks know what he’s doing? You don’t want to lose the little bit of security you’ve got, do you?’
‘No but he is a bank manager. With a bit of money behind me and a good job at the Tawe Pottery I could even rent a house for us to share. You’d like that wouldn’t you, Betty?’ She was growing fond of Betty in spite of her crude manners.
‘It would be wonderful, much better than cleaning up that scruffy place all day. But do you trust Mr Sparks then?’
Lily did not like Edward Sparks; he had a mean look about his eyes but at least he made no attempt to be familiar with her. ‘I’m sure he’s all right with money,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t be employed in a bank otherwise, would he?’
‘You going to see that lovely Watt Bevan again?’ Betty changed the subject. She was not a woman to count her chickens before they were hatched and she felt Lily’s enthusiasm was a little misplaced. ‘Nice, well set-up fellow, could do you a bit of good if he had a mind.’
‘I’m not interested,’ Lily said airily. ‘Watt is nothing to me, just a friend, that’s all past history you could say.’
‘Anyway, perhaps you’re too old for him, he’s courting that pretty little girl Rosie, isn’t he?’ Betty knew how to stick the knife in. ‘Seen them together a lot I have.’
‘Rosie’s common,’ Lily said. ‘Her mother’s the big woman who works in the paint shed, Pearl they call her. She’s as common as muck too. Her husband was hardly cold in his grave when she found herself a lover.’ She sniffed haughtily.
‘Mrs Johns, the cook, said that Pearl was the talk of the neighbourhood and serve her right! I never did like her.’
‘You don’t like many people, do you?’ Betty aske
d, her broad face shining with perspiration. Lily realized they had been walking uphill away from the town. She must have been instinctively heading towards Pottery Row.
‘I like you, Betty,’ Lily said sharply. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t be offering you a home rent free, would I?’
Betty remained silent and Lily stared at her challengingly. ‘Didn’t I bring you with me to Swansea? I could have left you behind and made my own way back. Finding a place for one of us would have been much cheaper than for two.’
‘Aye, I suppose so.’ Betty shivered. ‘We’re well away from that James Wesley and his friends and I got you to thank for that.’
Lily did not like to remember anything about that night. She had put up with James’s pestering, hoping to get a wedding ring out of it. All he had done was to humiliate her. She never had liked intimacy of any kind and that last episode with James had put her off men for good.
‘I wouldn’t take a man to my bed, not if you gilded him in gold leaf,’ she said. ‘Look we’d better turn back, we’re just getting further away from town.’
‘Aye, you’re right, I’m tired.’ Betty’s tone was full of self-pity. ‘I’ve worked hard scrubbing floors all day, I’m not tucked up in a nice cosy job like you. Easy you got it and me with poor knees that thinks they are dish mops.’
‘I used to be a painter,’ Lily reminded her. ‘I am wasting my talent pandering to the likes of the Sparks family.’
‘Keep in with that Mrs Sparks, I would. She’s got some good ideas from what you told me. She might even make you rich, you never know.’
Lily brightened. ‘You could be right.’
The return downhill did not take long and Lily took her leave of Betty at Broad Street and turned into the narrow Pleasant Row. ‘You’ll be all right in the lodging house until I get us a place?’ Lily called over her shoulder.
‘Aye, course I will,’ Betty called back. ‘It ‘ud be a brave man who took Betty on.’
Looking at her, tall and broad-shouldered in the growing dark of evening, it was easy to believe her and yet Betty did not have the sense she was born with.
The Sparks’s house sported one candle in one of the windows. That Mr Sparks was a mean man but then if he made money for her what did she care?
‘You are late, Lily.’ Mr Sparks stood near the back door, the poker in his hand. He looked as if he had been expecting burglars not the return of the maid.
‘Am I? Sorry, Mr Sparks.’ Lily wanted to smack his thin face; he was looking at her as if she were something the cat had dragged in.
‘I hope you haven’t been out with any of the local lads, Lily,’ he said, his eyes running over her. Lily smoothed down her skirts, her chin lifted.
‘I am not that sort of girl, Mr Sparks,’ she said haughtily. ‘I don’t allow anyone to take liberties with me.’
He still looked doubtful. He was barring her way to the stairs and she longed to get up to her room and climb into bed. ‘You’re out late for a decent young woman though, you must admit,’ he said.
‘I’ve been out with a lady friend,’ Lily said. ‘We had a drink in the Mansel coffee house and then took a stroll. I will swear to that on the Bible if you will fetch me one.’
Her indignant tone convinced him. ‘There will be no need for that, Lily. But please come in before dark next time my wife is good enough to give you time off from your duties, is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Lily said. To her relief, he stepped aside but as she made to climb the stairs, the bell rang summoning her.
‘My dear wife needs you, Lily. First go and wash your hands and then report to her bedroom, there’s a good girl.’ He turned away from her. ‘Oh, and when your duties are completed, make sure the fires are damped down and the candles extinguished.’
‘But that’s not my job,’ Lily said.
‘Well in that case make sure you are home at a decent time and then the other girl will be up and about to see to those things.’
Alice Sparks was in bed. She had the best bedroom in the house on the first landing facing the park at the back of the property. She did not share her husband’s bed and Lily did not blame her. Sparks was a mean-faced prig and what’s more he was always sweating in the most unsavoury way.
‘You said nothing to Mr Sparks about investing your money?’ Alice asked abruptly. ‘I’ll need to broach the matter when he’s in a good mood.’
‘Of course not, Mrs Sparks,’ Lily said. ‘I keep my own counsel, don’t you worry about that.’ She almost smiled. ‘I know Mr Sparks is your husband but I don’t confide in any man. Secrets are best kept from them.’
‘At least until the time is ripe, Lily.’ Alice actually smiled. ‘Until then, we must play our cards very close to our chest.’ She clasped her full bosom. ‘I hope you will remember that.’
‘I will, Mrs Sparks.’
‘Perhaps this would be a good time to bring me your money,’ Alice said. ‘I will not tell Edward that it’s your investment; I’ll pretend it comes from one of the wealthy families who live in the west end of the town.’ She smiled. ‘He’ll try all the harder to gain a good profit for you.’
‘Right, Mrs Mainwaring.’ Lily would have liked more time to think about the scheme but she was too timid to say so.
The small store of money was kept in a bag under her bed. Lily drew it out and looked at the coins inside. It was not much but it was all she had. She hesitated for a moment and then took the money downstairs and into the main bedroom.
‘It’s not very much,’ she said apologetically.
Alice looked into the bag and nodded her head. ‘I see what you mean. Never mind, we can probably do something with it.’ She tucked the bag under the pillow and closed her eyes.
‘You may go.’ Alice dismissed her and, as Lily left her room, she was frowning. Alice Sparks might think she was very clever but Lily was no fool either. She would watch and wait and eventually she would find out all about Alice’s activities and, when she did, she would make sure she used the information to her own advantage.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘Well?’ Hortense looked at Binnie as he stood in the doorway of the house, twisting his hat between his fingers. If only she could hate him. If only she could wipe him out of her life for ever. But so far that was something she had failed miserably to do. She had lived with him for too long, had grown used to him, to every curve of him, to the way he breathed when he was asleep and to the look in his eyes when he wanted to make love to her.
She had made him go up country on the pretext of checking the other potteries her father owned. She did not trust herself to be with him too much or she would surely weaken and take him back into her life as before.
‘Please, can we just talk?’ he said. ‘I’ve stayed out of your way as you asked but I can’t bear it, Hortense, I ache to be with you and the boys. Please just talk to me.’
‘What is there to talk about? You’ve lied and cheated me, wormed your way into my heart and home. What is there to say?’
‘I can’t go on making excuses for spending time away from home, can I?’ he asked quietly. ‘People are beginning to ask questions.’
‘Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?’ She stared at him, glad the boys were not at home. They missed their father, the three of them kept asking her where he was.
‘Come in.’ She held the door open resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms, to cling to his broad shoulders and cry away all her unhappiness and pain. ‘Come into the backyard, we won’t be overheard there.’
They sat together and yet so far apart. Hortense was afraid to look at him. She wanted him so badly, wanted his love and the feel of his body close to hers. He was silent, miserable, waiting for her to speak.
She risked a glance at him; his head was bent, his hair flopping over his brow. Her heart ached with love for him.
‘Don’t you miss me, just a bit, Hortense?’ His voice was hoarse. ‘I miss you like hell!’ He sounded distraught. ‘Hortense, h
oney, I shouldn’t have lied to you. I know I did wrong but I loved you from the first moment I set eyes on you. I love you more than my own life. I swear I have never even looked at another woman, not since you and I were wed.’
She gave a short laugh. ‘But we weren’t wed, were we?’ Bitterness welled up within her again. The pain was sharp; the hurt had gone too deep to be washed away by protestations of love.
‘I know, I know.’ He tried to take her hand but she snatched it away from him. ‘You were married!’ She almost spat the words at him. ‘You had a child by another woman and you tell me you’re sorry!’
She felt crazed with anger, jealousy welled up and blinded her. She slapped his face, hard. Binnie did not flinch. In a frenzy, she beat him about the face with her fists, wanting to hurt him as he had hurt her. ‘I hate you, Binnie Dundee, don’t you understand, I can never trust you again!’
At last, exhausted, she stood back from him. His hair was tangled, his face red from her blows. There were tears in his eyes. He stood for a moment in silent misery and then began to walk back towards the house.
‘Binnie!’ She called his name but he took no notice. He disappeared from sight and Hortense sank onto the garden seat, her head in her hands. She hated him and she loved him. She wanted him so badly and she remembered all that was good about him. It was true he had never looked at another woman, never embarrassed her the way John Pendennis embarrassed Josephine. Binnie was a good father to his sons. Now, she had driven him away for good and she felt wretched.
It was a week later when Josephine came to call. John helped her down from the carriage and then, without so much as a glance at Hortense, whipped the horses into motion and drove away.
‘He’s afraid he’ll get the sharp edge of your tongue,’ Josephine said ruefully. The sisters sat in the coolness of the sitting room drinking ice-cold cordial.
‘How are you feeling, Jo?’ Hortense tried to appear composed; she was not given to airing her grief and pain.
‘My health is excellent.’ Josephine smiled. ‘The baby is making me grow fatter by the day.’
