Sweet Rosie

by Iris Gower

  ‘And perhaps not,’ Llinos said. ‘I don’t think he will run away, I have a feeling that even now Sparks has something up his sleeve, some way of replacing the money he’s pilfered.’

  ‘And in the meantime our creditors are banging on the door wanting to be paid. This isn’t doing your reputation any good, Llinos.’

  She looked at him, her eyebrows arched. ‘And when have I ever worried about my reputation, Watt?’

  ‘This is your livelihood we’re talking about, Llinos,’ he said. ‘I remember the days when we ran the pottery on a shoestring; we don’t want to go back to that, do we?’

  ‘What are you going to do about Rosie?’ Llinos deliberately changed the subject.

  ‘What can I do? She’s gone off without even letting me know where she’ll be staying.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Llinos said. ‘But then you shouldn’t have married her, you’ve never really loved her.’

  Watt thrust his hands into his pockets; his face was turned away from her and Llinos was ashamed of her spiteful remarks.

  ‘You think that makes the situation any better?’ he said in a low voice.

  Llinos tried to think of a reply but was saved by a sudden rapping on the door.

  ‘Someone to see you, Mrs Mainwaring,’ the maid said. ‘John Pendennis is asking can he speak with you?’

  ‘All right, let him come in.’ Llinos looked at Watt. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I should mind my own business, your private life has nothing to do with me.’ She paused. ‘I wonder what John wants.’

  ‘Want me to stay while you talk to him?’ Watt asked. ‘I think I should especially if it concerns the pottery.’

  John came into the room just then and glanced at Watt and it was plain he was not pleased to see him. Watt stood his ground and John ignored him and spoke directly to Llinos.

  ‘May I speak privately with you?’ he asked, his voice genial. ‘I won’t keep you long.’

  ‘All right.’ Llinos smiled. ‘I’ll see you later, Watt, thanks for your concern and please don’t worry, we’ll sort it out.’

  John was not dressed for work. He was wearing a fresh linen shirt and good breeches. His boots were of rich polished leather. Llinos wondered where his sudden wealth had sprung from. When he first came to her, he had nothing, so he claimed.

  ‘I understand the business is in bad shape,’ John said easily. He seated himself close to her and Llinos stared at him.

  ‘I don’t know where you have got your information from but my business is no concern of yours.’

  ‘I think it might be,’ John said. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and looked down at it for a long moment. ‘I came across this, I thought you would want to see it.’

  He pushed it across the desk and Llinos felt a prickle of apprehension. There was something in John’s tone she did not like.

  She looked down and gasped in shock as she saw the cartoon pencilled boldly across the paper.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ she asked. She bit her lip in anger as John shook his head.

  ‘That’s not important,’ he said. ‘What matters is that tomorrow, unless you and I can come to some arrangement, this will be in the newspapers.’

  She looked at the drawing again, studying the caricature more closely. Her features had been exaggerated. She was depicted with a fierce mop of hair and huge, woeful eyes. Her clothing was in rags and she had a sign with the words ‘Debtors’ Prison’ around her neck.

  ‘What is the meaning of it all?’ Llinos asked.

  ‘I want to take over your business,’ John said. ‘I know that your account is in trouble, your creditors not paid. I will bail you out and buy the pottery at a fair price.’

  Llinos rose to her feet. ‘You can go to hell!’ She tore the paper into shreds and John laughed.

  ‘That is only a rough copy,’ he said evenly. ‘I think you would be advised to think things over carefully before you come to any decision.’

  ‘So you and Sparks are in this together,’ Llinos said sharply. ‘He is stealing money from me and your role is to step in and buy the property at rock-bottom price. Who are you working for?’

  ‘I have backers, of course,’ John said, ‘but I am the one in charge. You have no money to operate the pottery, your competitors are too big to fight, so why not give in gracefully?’

  She shook her head. ‘So Jem Boucher is behind all this? He’s always wanted to get my pottery for the consortium.’ She stared at John defiantly. ‘Well your blackmailing tactics won’t work. I intend to report the matter to the owner of the bank who happens to be a friend of the family. He will see that everything is straightened out.’

  ‘So, what will happen then?’ John said. ‘Sparks will languish in jail for filching money from your account and you will still be penniless.’ He smiled. ‘I could suppress this.’ He tapped the pieces of torn paper. ‘Save you the humiliation of being pilloried in public.’

  ‘I don’t care about the drawing, hasn’t that sunk in yet?’ Llinos demanded. ‘Whoever did this cartoon will be the one to suffer.’ She walked to the door and opened it. ‘Haven’t you heard, John? Everyone sympathizes with the underdog. Your spiteful little cartoon will bring me nothing but offers of help.’

  She forced a smile. ‘Oh, a few people might chuckle over the cartoon but I am a deserted wife, remember? Most of the other wives out there will be angry for me, imagining themselves in my place. You are not a very good judge of human nature, are you?’

  ‘I’ll give you until tonight to change your mind,’ John said. ‘I’m offering a fair price for the pottery, you must see it would be a good option for you. Face it, you are no longer interested in running the place otherwise you wouldn’t be in such a mess, would you? You would have sorted a pipsqueak like Sparks out long ago if your heart was in it.’

  ‘Just leave,’ Llinos said. ‘If I see you near my property again I’ll have you horsewhipped. Do you understand?’

  He left the room and strode across the hall. At the door he turned. ‘I would think about it, Mrs Mainwaring, if you turn down my offer, you have everything to lose.’

  ‘Not everything,’ she said. ‘I will still have my integrity. Goodbye, Mr Pendennis.’ Llinos felt her courage desert her; now she was alone, she could see again the drawing of herself being led to a debtors’ prison. How her father would have hated the disgrace of it. She swallowed hard. She had come to the lowest point in her life and she had no where to turn for comfort.

  Rosie looked around the room: it was a large, elegant hall with high windows facing the sea. Alice’s father must be a very rich man indeed to own such an impressive house.

  He had not met his daughter with open arms and he looked askance at Rosie as she stepped into the house carrying the bags. After a moment, he beckoned his daughter into the privacy of the library. Alice had been shut in there for over an hour now while Rosie sat staring around her, the bags at her side, wondering what was going to become of her.

  Perhaps Alice’s father would throw his daughter out into the street. He looked just the sort of man who would do such a thing without a qualm. It was no wonder Alice had grown up to be selfish, impatient with the failings of others.

  At last, Alice emerged looking triumphant. ‘We are to have the east wing to ourselves, Rosie,’ she said briskly. ‘My father doesn’t want to be troubled with our presence, so we’ll keep out of his way.’

  Rosie carried the bags upstairs, walking slowly behind Alice. Alice paused for breath on the huge landing. ‘I’ll be glad to get into bed, I feel so damned weak.’ She pointed. ‘Go along there, you can choose any room you fancy. Father’s servants can make up the beds for us with fresh linen.’

  An hour later, Rosie sat beside the newly built fire in the large bedroom and stared down at her hands. Alice had fallen asleep in the next room, giving Rosie time to take stock.

  Did she really want to live in an enormous mansion miles away from Swansea? She could not lower her pride and live with Watt bu
t she would miss her brothers and she would not be able to visit them so easily now. But she had made her choice and that was to stay with Alice. Well now she must live with it. She kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the silk counterpane. She was tired; she would follow Alice’s example and sleep.

  John Pendennis left the noisy atmosphere of the Castle Inn, his hands swinging at his sides, his head high. Filled with good meat and even better wine, he was confident, pleased with the direction in which his life was moving. He would win the day, he was sure of it. Once Llinos Mainwaring thought it over and accepted the fact that he meant to make the drawing public, she would capitulate, sell him the pottery at any price he chose to mention.

  Polly was waiting for him in the bedroom of the house she had rented for him. He had not expected her and for a moment he was angry at her intrusion. She smiled up at him and leaned forward, exposing her breasts to full view. She wanted him. She was insatiable. He smiled. He might as well give her what she had come for.

  When at last Polly lay gasping at his side, a glow of bliss bringing colour into her face, he stretched out beside her.

  ‘What surprise have you got for me this time, Polly?’ he said, his hand trailing across her breasts. She rolled away from him and walked casually towards the dressing room, unashamed of her nakedness.

  John heard the sound of water running into the bowl and smiled; Polly was fastidious about her cleanliness. Or was she worried her doting husband might suspect her of allowing another man to taste her delights?

  She returned to the bedroom and pushed back her tangled hair. She was not a beautiful woman, her nose was slightly too large and her mouth wide. But she had a sensuality that was hard to resist.

  She dressed quickly and he guessed she was needed at home. Normally, Polly would dally around the house in a silk robe, padding about the rooms on bare feet. He watched as she delved into her bag and brought out a leather pouch.

  ‘Here!’ She smiled. ‘See if you like it.’

  The gold watch slipped into his hand, rich and satisfyingly heavy. The ornate scrolling and the elegant face added to the charm of the piece. It reminded him of his father’s gold watch, the one he had sold because he needed the money. Well he would make sure he was never in need again.

  ‘If you are good, I might just buy you a good chain to go with it,’ Polly said, moving to the door.

  ‘Busy tonight?’ John asked, mellowed by the gift. ‘What a shame, I could have earned myself that chain right now.’

  ‘Patience, John, darling,’ she said. ‘I have to save something for poor old Jem, don’t I?’ She left the bedroom and John scrambled off the bed and pulled on his breeches.

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ he asked. She shook her head without answering and pulled open the front door. Outside the carriage waited, the driver asleep at the reins. Polly hesitated.

  ‘What is it, what’s wrong?’ John asked.

  ‘Bad news.’ She shrugged. ‘The paper will not use Lily’s drawing of Llinos Mainwaring. The editor thinks it could have legal implications.’

  ‘Hell and damnation!’ John felt frustration well up within him. The euphoric effects of the alcohol and Polly’s eager response to his lovemaking were wearing off. Now all he felt was tired and disheartened.

  ‘All is not lost, my darling,’ Polly said. ‘Just tell Mrs Mainwaring that the editor is holding back for a day or two. Use the brains God gave you, John Pendennis.’

  She was right. Polly was not as flighty as some might think. Behind those eyes that flirted outrageously with any man she met, Polly had a good mind. Perhaps when Jem Boucher gave up the ghost, Polly would move John into her house on a more permanent basis.

  He might even marry her. The fact that he was married to Josephine McCabe did not come into the matter. Jo was in America a mighty ocean separated them. No-one in the whole of Britain knew that she was even alive. In any case, if Binnie Dundee could get away with bigamy surely John Pendennis could do the same?

  ‘What are you thinking about, John?’ Polly said curiously. John smiled.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

  ‘Come on, tell me!’ Polly clung to his arm and John took her face in his hands.

  ‘I was thinking that you and I make a good team, my love,’ he said. ‘One day, I might even do you the honour of marrying you.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Polly pushed him away. ‘Don’t count your chickens, my boy. Even if I was free, I wouldn’t marry you.’ She flounced off towards the carriage. ‘I like a stallion in my bed but not at my dining table,’ she said, turning to look over her shoulder.

  ‘The next man I marry will be rich and young then I won’t need anyone else to keep me happy.’

  ‘Don’t fool yourself, Polly!’ John called. ‘You are the sort of woman who will always need more than one man.’

  She waved her hand as the carriage jerked into motion and John returned indoors. He sat looking at the watch for a long time. So Polly wanted a rich man, did she? Well he would be rich one day. He smiled. And the first step towards his goal was to get control of the Mainwaring Pottery. And get it he would, by whatever means he could.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Lily was upset. ‘Why didn’t the paper take my picture of that stuck-up Llinos Mainwaring?’ she said acidly.

  Polly stared at her, eyebrows raised. ‘You know why,’ she said gently. ‘It was too controversial!’ She laughed. ‘But it was an excellent likeness, Lily, you are clever!’

  Lily was not mollified by Polly’s praise. She had hoped for a good sum of money and a chance to get back at Llinos at the same time. Llinos thought she was a cut above the people she employed to run the pottery but Lily remembered the days when Llinos had no money. When the few people remaining at the pottery had worked their fingers to the bone to help the business survive. Lily herself had worked for just her bed and board, using her painting skills on crass earthenware products.

  She realized now that she had been wasting her talents all along. Now that she had seen her work in print, had received money for her drawings, she knew she could have done better than stay in a smelly paint shed.

  ‘There’s nothing stopping you sending your picture to another paper, though,’ Polly said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Polly sighed. ‘You’ll never make a businesswoman. Good thing you’ve got me to look after you.’ She bent over the drawing.

  ‘Look, why not take out the sign that says “Debtors’ Prison” and just show the old castle? We all know people who can’t pay their way get put in jail there, don’t we?’

  ‘But I liked the sign, it made the point so clearly that Llinos Mainwaring is in trouble,’ Lily said.

  ‘I know it’s all very clever but it’s too daring as it is, love. Do as I say and I bet you will get some rich pickings for it from a big Cardiff paper without them worrying about being sued. At least it’s worth a try and you’d get more money that way and your fame would spread.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Lily was quite flattered. Polly usually knew what she was talking about. Sometimes it irked her that Polly, who made her living by stealing from casual lovers, had risen high enough to be accepted in polite society. Polly certainly had the brains to make the most of herself.

  ‘Nothing to lose, is there?’ Polly looked around the room. ‘Nice place this. Matt takes good care of you, mind.’ She rose to study a richly coloured painting on the wall. ‘This is really good,’ she said. ‘I bet it’s worth a fortune.’

  ‘No, I think it’s a copy of one of the old masters,’ Lily said. ‘Matthew brought it from his house, he said it would please me.’ And it did. It was a painting of a woodland scene with the trees disappearing ghost-like into the distance. It always gave Lily a sense of freedom, of the open air.

  ‘It’s not a copy, you idiot!’ Polly said. ‘It’s the real thing, you ask Matthew. Gawd! If ever you was ditched you could sell the painting and live on the profits for the rest of your natural.’

 
; Polly reverted to her street language, something she always did when she was excited. ‘Look, Lily, why don’t you do a copy of this and put it in the frame, Matthew would never know the difference. You could get yourself a nice little nest-egg with the proceeds.’

  Lily looked at her open-mouthed. ‘I couldn’t do that!’ she said.

  ‘Why not? You’re clever enough.’

  ‘No, I don’t think I am.’ Lily stared at the painting; she had stared at it for long hours on the nights Matthew did not come to see her. She almost knew the contours of the land, the feathery leaves of the trees off by heart.

  ‘Just have a go in a small way at first,’ Polly said. ‘Draw a bit of it, a tree or a hill or something, you know better than me, you are the artist.’

  It was an idea worth considering. Lily put her head on one side and studied the painting. She might just try her hand at copying the scene. She was not at all convinced she was up to the task but at least it would be something to do when the evenings stretched endlessly before her.

  Lily hated to be alone; she even preferred to put up with Matthew’s advances rather than sleep in the big house all by herself. Though, to be fair to him, Matthew managed to see her most days. She realized quite suddenly that she liked Matthew more than a little. She had come to depend on him, to want him to hold her. She would never like the intimacy between a man and a woman but at least with Matthew it was gentle and he treated her as though he really cared for her.

  ‘How’s Jem?’ Lily said, aware that Polly was watching her. Polly had a nasty habit of reading Lily’s mind.

  ‘He’s well enough for an old codger!’ Polly laughed. ‘Up to his usual bedtime tricks. It’s a wonder the man don’t wear himself out.’ She twisted the gold band on her finger. ‘I’ll miss him when he goes, mind.’

  ‘Goes?’ Lily said.

  ‘Pops his clogs, silly! He’s not a young stripling any more, is he?’

  Lily thought about it. Jem was even older than Matthew who was in his fiftieth year. ‘How old is he? Jem I mean?’