by Iris Gower
Earlier today, as she had travelled on the Mumbles train down the curving coast from Swansea, memories had swamped her, memories of her abortive love affair with Will Davies. She smiled ruefully; it hadn’t even been an affair, not really. They had never touched, intimately, never become lovers; and now she wondered at the foolishness that had kept them apart. What good was chastity, when it left nothing to hold on to, not even memories? If only she and Will had consummated their love, given everything to each other, at least now she would have memories, real memories that she could take out like precious jewels and examine in the loneliness of night.
Suddenly her attention was caught by the sight of two figures bent close together. With a leap of her heart, Eline recognized Will’s tall frame bending protectively over Gwyneth Parks. No, not Gwyneth Parks; she was now Mrs Davies. Eline’s heart contracted with pain.
‘Eline!’ Calvin came into the room on a gust of wind. She was startled; she had not seen him enter through the gallery door. Snow lent a white frosting to his hat and fringed his moustache, and she drew herself upright, forcing a smile even as she attempted to push away the image imprinted on her mind of Will and Gwyneth so close together.
‘Calvin, it’s good to see you!’ She felt a throb of affection for the man who had accepted with good grace her decision not to marry him, loving her enough to let her go.
‘Eline, my dear girl, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to meet you; you must have had an uncomfortable journey in from town.’ He shrugged out of his coat. ‘But what are you doing here so late?’ he said in concern. ‘You are not going to be able to return home tonight; all the roads to Swansea are closed.’
Eline shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll take a room in one of the lodging houses, I’ll be all right.’
Calvin took her hands and drew her towards him. ‘Poor little love, you’re so unhappy; coming here always affects you that way.’
She looked up at him. He was so strong and yet so sensitive; why couldn’t she just fall in love with him and have done with all the torment of longings for a man she could not have?
‘What’s upset you now?’ Calvin put his finger beneath her chin and looked down at her. ‘You seem more edgy than usual.’
‘I saw them, together,’ Eline said with difficulty, ‘Will and Gwyneth.’
Eline took a deep breath, trying to force back the pain that the sight of the couple arm in arm had aroused in her. ‘Her child must be due very soon now.’
Calvin drew her close. ‘Eline, I’ve respected your wishes, accepted your decision not to marry me, but look, you can’t stay alone all your life; you are a flesh-and-blood woman, you can have children of your own, a family – our family – at least you won’t be on the outside looking in for the rest of your days. Won’t you reconsider?’
Eline leant against him, warmed by his concern, feeling, in spite of her success, an emptiness inside her that cried out to be filled.
As she struggled for a reply, Calvin spoke again. ‘You know how I feel about you,’ he said softly, his mouth against her hair. ‘I’d always care for you, respect your every wish; I’d be good to you, Eline.’
She looked through the window at the snowy scene outside, and she shivered.
Calvin held her closer. ‘Come into my sitting-room,’ he said softly. ‘You haven’t seen what I’ve done to the attic rooms, have you?’
Eline felt strange as she mounted the stairs beside Calvin. She knew she was playing with fire as he led her from the impersonal gallery rooms to his own quarters.
‘There!’ He opened the door, and Eline drew a deep breath at the cosy atmosphere that was generated by the cheerful fire burning in the grate and the oil lamps strategically placed around the room.
Heavy curtains were drawn against the cold, and the entire effect was of a cocoon of warmth and secrecy, a haven from the world outside.
‘It’s only for when I’m spending time in Oystermouth,’ he said, quickly, ‘but wait until you see the house I’ve bought on top of Mumbles Hill; the view is fantastic, and when I’ve finished making improvements to the building it will be very comfortable indeed. I wish you would share it with me, Eline.
‘I’m sorry’ – he rushed on – ‘you’re shivering! Sit by the fire; I’ll bring you a glass of port to warm the blood.’
She looked round, feeling suddenly lethargic, as she leant back in the comfort of a high-backed chair. She watched as Calvin filled two glasses with liquid that gleamed ruby in the firelight, and a sense of peace seemed to permeate the room.
‘You must stay here tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ll go along the road to the club and find a bed; I can’t have you walking the streets in this weather.’
It was good to have someone take charge, Eline thought, wearily. It was all very well and good to be self-sufficient, strong, in charge of her own destiny – how many women would give the world to be in her position – but she was tired, so tired.
‘Thank you, Calvin,’ she said humbly. She sipped the warming liquid, and it spread through her like a panacea, easing the pain a little. She held out her glass for more, and Calvin obligingly filled it.
He looked down into her eyes, and she saw the admiration there with a feeling of gratitude; she was desirable, wanted by a man and a good man, a handsome man – why was she holding back, for what?
She had held back with Will, had cared more for her reputation and conscience than for her love and desire; what good had come of it?
‘Calvin . . .’ she said tentatively, ‘I want you to stay with me tonight.’
If he was surprised, he concealed it well. He smiled down at her, his eyes bright with sudden hope. ‘I do believe you are serious, Eline,’ he said softly. ‘You know I’ve wanted you for such a long time, and if you are offering what I think you are, then please make sure you mean it; I’m only human, remember.’
‘I’m not teasing,’ Eline said quietly. She put down her glass and moved from her chair, making her way the few paces across the room to where he was standing pouring a drink from a crystal decanter.
Slowly she took the glass from him and stood it carefully on the tray and then, as if in a dream, she put her arms around him. ‘I am serious,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been more serious in all my life. I want you to make love to me, Calvin; is that putting it plain enough?’
He took her in his arms then and his face was alight with happiness. Eline sighed as his hands gently began to unfasten her gown. She was committed now; there was no turning back, not now, not ever.
Gwyneth, pale and tired, had retired to bed and William sat before the fire, head in hands as he fought against the feelings that threatened to swamp him in self-pity. He had seen her, Eline, framed in the light from the gallery window, as beautiful and unobtainable as one of the paintings that hung about the room behind her.
‘Damn,’ he said softly. If only he could forget her, put her right out of his thoughts, then he could almost be happy. He poked at the embers in the fire, and a blaze of sparks rose up as though in anger before the coals shifted lower into the grate.
He sensed someone standing behind him and turned to look into the face of his mother-in-law. ‘Nina,’ he said, ‘I didn’t realize you were there.’
‘You’re in torment, aren’t you, Will?’ Nina sat down beside him and put her hand on his knee. ‘I know it’s hard, being here, seeing her; it’s only natural to feel bad, you can’t help it.’
‘I think the world of Gwyneth,’ he said desperately. ‘I want to look after her and our child, and yet I can’t help but feel . . .’
‘I know, cariad.’ Nina shook her head. ‘I wasn’t always an old woman.’ Her eyes became dreamy. ‘Not so long ago I had the love of a fine man; I loved Joe Harries more than I can ever say in ordinary words.’
She sighed, her eyes clearing. ‘But I lived with Kevin, my husband, until he died, brought up our children, and all the time I pined for Joe.’
She spread her work-roughened hands wide. ‘I had him th
en, for a short time, after Eline had left him, that is; and we found a joy and a happiness of sorts together because it was meant to be.’
She sighed heavily again. ‘The most comforting thing I can say is, what’s for you, you’ll have; the good Lord evens things out – joy, suffering, happiness, unhappiness, he does the best he can to give us something of each.’
Will rose to his feet. ‘You are a good woman, Nina,’ he said, smiling down at her.
She burst into a spontaneous laugh, her mouth curving, her eyes merry; and for a moment Will could see the beautiful, sensual woman she must have been.
‘Duw, no-one’s ever accused me of being that before,’ she said. ‘Wicked and wanton were the words most of the people round here would have used.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘And proud I am of it too, mind.
‘Well’ – she stared up at him – ‘where are you going to try and drown the devils within you? The tap-rooms will all be closed now.’
‘I’m just going to walk along the sea front,’ Will said softly, ‘see if the salt air will clear my mind.’
‘It isn’t your mind that’s the trouble, Will, it’s your heart.’
She rose and stood before him. ‘Look, I’m older than you, much older in years and experience. Try to be content with what you have right here, a good woman, a child on the way and’ – her face brightened – ‘you’ve had promotion, and now there’s a chance of a bit of money coming your way, if I’m not mistaken.’
Will paused at the door, his eyebrows raised. ‘There’s not much you miss, is there?’
‘Well, Fon is my daughter too, mind,’ Nina said, ‘and she seems all excited about this land her husband is selling. Put them right, it will. Jamie’s been having a bit of a difficult time, see, some fool trying to ruin him.’
Will turned away from the door, his spine suddenly tingling. ‘Ruin him, what exactly do you mean, Nina? I think you should tell me all about it.’
‘Right, sit down, then, have your walk later. This story will take a bit of telling.’ She smiled at him. ‘Why don’t I bring out the rhubarb wine?’
Will settled himself in the armchair, his own misery forgotten. There was something strange about the consortium, about Robert Smale and the whole set-up, and Will had the feeling he was going to find out just what it was.
It was perhaps an hour later that he walked out along the sea front of Oystermouth, his hands thrust into his pockets, his brow furrowed. It was clear now to Will that this man Smale had some sort of grudge against Jamie O’Conner and wished him more harm than good. Well, as soon as it was light, Will would take a trip up to Honey’s Farm and warn Jamie of what was afoot.
Jamie was an astute man, but then so was Smale. Who would suspect Fon’s brother-in-law of being engaged in underhand dealings? No, Smale had chosen well when he approached Will in the street.
Will thrust his hands into his pockets. He would like to teach Smale a lesson, give him the hiding he deserved; how dare he involve Will in one of his schemes?
He paused outside the gallery, his senses longingly tuned in to Eline. Was she still in there, behind the stone walls and the cold staring eyes of the windows?
As if in answer to his question, a light was turned on in one of the upstairs rooms. Against the light, Will saw the outline of a woman, and he drew a deep ragged breath, shock surging through him like a poison, for there, just beyond Eline’s shoulder, was another shadow – that of a man.
Jealousy hit Will like a sudden blow as the two shadows seemed to merge into one. They moved away from the window, and then the light was extinguished.
‘Eline!’ Will whispered into the dark. ‘Eline, you can’t do this to me.’
The silence around him was intense; it filled the whole world, so that Will felt trapped in an oasis of darkness and despair. He wanted to break the spell by rushing inside the house, taking Eline in his arms and making her his own. But he had no right; he was a married man, he had responsibilities, and nothing could ever change that. Slowly, hopelessly, he turned away and walked towards the darkness of the sea.
Eline closed her eyes for a moment as the light was extinguished, leaving her and Calvin alone in the warm womb of the darkness. She felt his hands on her breasts as his fingers fumbled with her buttons, and she forced herself not to panic but to remain quiescent. All around her were the scents of him, for this after all was his bedroom. Here Calvin stayed when he had extra business at the gallery.
‘Eline, my sweet girl.’ Calvin had freed her breasts; he caressed them gently, and now Eline could see the outline of his broad shoulders as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom. He bent his head and captured her nipple between his lips and, almost against her will, Eline found herself responding. It was so long, too long, since she’d been in a man’s arms.
Slowly, Calvin undressed her, taking his time to remove each of her garments. He was practised, and Eline could tell he’d had numerous lovers.
Once she was naked, he knelt beside her, just looking down at her skin, pale in the moonlight. ‘Beautiful,’ he breathed, ‘more beautiful than even I had imagined.’
Quickly, he took off his own clothes, and he stood proud and tall, his body eager for her. But still he took his time; he was a man of experience, and he knew that anticipation was all part of the building excitement.
He stretched out beside her on the bed and gently drew her close. His lips found hers, and he kissed her with such tenderness that Eline felt suddenly she was cheating him. She wanted him now, with an urgency that surprised her, but it was not his love she wanted, just the satisfaction of release from the tensions within her.
But no, that was not quite true, she reasoned; she needed his adoration as a thirsty flower needed water. She had been starved of the emotions so dear to a woman; she felt the need to be desired, and Calvin was more than fulfilling that need.
Delicately, he smoothed her thighs, his fingers expertly advancing and retreating. Eline found her arms winding around his shoulders, drawing him down to her; she wanted to be pierced, to be possessed, to feel like a woman once more.
As though sensing her readiness, he moved above her; for a moment he was poised and then he was taking possession of her body, making it his, setting his mark of ownership unmistakably upon her.
She moved against him, clearing everything from her mind but the needs of the moment. She no longer thought rational thoughts; she simply let the sensations roll through her, sweeping her away on a journey of discovery.
Never before had she been loved with such finesse, such expertise: she had known only the mundane couplings of her marriage bed. Joe Harries had never been blessed with finesse. Vigour he had in abundance, but he had been a straightforward man, uncomplicated in his love-making. Calvin was of a different breed.
She felt herself surrender to him; the delights he was bringing like gifts to her were too much to resist. She knew that in this moment he could ask of her what he wanted, and she would give it to him.
It was as if he sensed her inner feelings, for he paused in his stride and his rhythm was broken for a fraction of a moment.
He caught her face in his two hands and forced her to look at him. ‘You are my woman now, Eline, and don’t you ever forget it.’
His sudden movement brought a gasp from her, and then he was driving hard, his hands gripping her waist. She cried out, and for a moment it was as though time ceased. Then came the rushing cascade of sensation that spread like wildfire through her blood, pounding from her thighs to her breasts and filling her head until she thought she would die of it.
She clung to him, holding him to her, pressing him closer as the ripples reached a crescendo. Then she fell back against the pillows, her eyes closed as she struggled for breath.
Calvin held her close, still possessing her; he kissed her breast and she ran her fingers over his back, down towards the strong buttocks that curved pleasingly beneath her hands.
‘Eline!’ he said hoarsely. ‘I love you.’ The w
ords fell like pieces of ice into her mind; the picture of Will flashed before her eyes.
She would have drawn away from him, but she was aware that he was growing aroused once more. ‘This time it will be more gentle,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘It will be slower, quieter, but afterwards you will never want to leave me.’
As he began to move once more and Eline felt the overriding need for his body to assuage the heat in hers, she knew a mingling of sadness and joy; she wanted Calvin, there was no denying that she wanted him, and yet her spirit, her inner core, cried out for Will to be the one holding her close.
Even as the ecstasy began to grow within her, Eline felt tears of sadness running down her cheeks and falling salt into her mouth.
It was morning when she woke. Eline stretched her arms and turned over in the bed and saw that it was empty. From downstairs, she heard the sounds of the maid putting coal on to the fires in the gallery rooms. She became aware of the aroma of coffee and sat up, looking around her, as though awaking from a dream.
‘Calvin!’ She looked down at her naked body, and the colour stained her cheeks; she had lain with Calvin, enjoying his love-making with what she could only describe as a feeling of shameless lust, for she didn’t love him; that much was clear to her even now.
He entered the room, and he looked handsome in a scarlet silk robe tied loosely around him. He was carrying a tray laden with a pot of coffee and two cups, and his eyes searched her face. Instinctively, she covered her breast and, smiling, he put down the tray and came over to the bed, drawing the sheet away from her fingers.
Lightly, he traced the outline of her body from breast to thigh. ‘Mine,’ he said with satisfaction. He sat down beside her and poured the coffee, and when he handed her a cup, she held it between them like a barrier.
‘You are going to marry me, Eline Harries,’ he said casually, but his eyes were clear and direct.
