The Posthorn Inn

by The Posthorn Inn (retail) (epub)

  ‘I am here because I ran away from a problem, sir,‘ she began. ‘I have a brother who spent most of each day drinking and then he would come back and treat me badly.’

  ‘Oh, you poor woman.’ William’s relief that it was something less sinister than he had expected showed in the way he greeted her revelation.

  ‘I ran away from him and I also ran away from my children. They being more than twenty, I thought them able to make up their own mind.‘ She allowed another whispered sob to punctuate her words as she went on. ‘I regretted leaving them within hours, and on the following day I went back, but they were gone. Only my brother was there and he so furious that I ran off again and didn’t even look back. Oh, sir, I feel so guilty about my behaviour and wish I could go back and help them all, but, sir, I daren’t. Not now, I really dare not.’

  William’s arm had tightened and pulled the woman closer to him. She smelt sweet and feminine and her skin, close to him, was smooth and unblemished. Those deep set eyes looked up at him, the lips parted and for a moment he was lost to everything but her nearness and her need of him. He lowered his lips to hers and she gave a sob as she clung to him.

  ‘Sir!’ a sharp voice demanded. ‘Will we get no lunch today for the men working in your fields?’

  William turned so fast that Annie almost slipped to the floor. He stumbled away from her and glared at Olwen, who stood, hands on hips, bending slightly towards him, disapproval on her freckled face. ‘Olwen. Please go into the kitchen. Annie has had a shock and is distressed and quite unable to see to food. You and Bethan must attend to it.’

  ‘Thank you, sir, for your concern,’ Annie said weakly, ‘but I must see to the servants.’

  ‘No, Annie, first I must hear the rest of your story.’

  Watching the door, wondering if Olwen was listening, she said softly, ‘Sir, my children, Lowri and Cadwalader, have found me and they want me to return to the house where their uncle lives. Oh sir, what can I do? I need to get away for a while. Perhaps, if you know of a house in London?’

  ‘Why so far?’ Suddenly, he did not want to lose this woman. In his loneliness he clung to her presence like a child will cling to even the most careless mother, her importance due to the absence of anyone else. ‘Surely they won’t force you to return?’

  ‘I feel I have let them down, sir. They argue strongly in favour of taking me back.’

  ‘Go to your room. I will ride over to see the doctor and get a sleeping draught. Tomorrow we will discuss this further. Until then you must rest.’

  Olwen darted back from the door and busied herself with the lunch baskets that Annie and Bethan had put ready. She filled large stone flasks with water and put them with the food and the cider.

  She left them ready and went back to the fields to find someone to help her carry it, taking only a basket of bread and cheese. When David and Bethan and several others had emptied the kitchen of the supplies, she picked up the last stone flask and tiptoed to peep into the study where William and Annie had been talking. William was alone. He sat at his desk, with papers spread out before him, but he was not working, he was staring at a drawing of his wife, a sad expression on his face.

  ‘Do you need anything before I return to the fields, sir?’ she asked. There was a stern disapproval in her voice, not the tone he expected to hear from a servant, and he glanced quickly at her.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said.

  She continued to stand there, her coarse apron and the striped blouse she wore emphasizing her youthfulness and her smallness. Her expression was bold.

  ‘Was there something else?’ he asked.

  ‘Just that what you and – she – were doing was what you sent Penelope away for, and it seems to me that you are—’

  ‘Olwen!’

  ‘Sorry, sir.’ There was no apology in the words, only more defiance.

  She was crying as she ran out of the kitchen door. She knew she had gone too far, and it was likely that when the day was over she would be told to go. Tears in her eyes prevented her from seeing the figure that stepped out in front of her as she hurried down the lane.

  ‘Olwen, whatever is the matter?’ Cadwalader asked. He stopped her hasty steps and took the heavy flask from her. ‘Tell me, has someone upset you?’

  ‘Only myself. I’ve just been a-w-f-u-l cheeky to Master Ddole,’ she sobbed. Then swallowing her tears she glared at him and said aggressively, ‘And it’s you have the fault not me!’

  He laughed and asked, ‘What have I done that could upset you.’

  ‘Annie, she’s your mother, isn’t she? Run away from your drunken uncle. And you and that sister of yours let her go! Why couldn’t you keep her away from us, causing nothing but trouble she is and her trying to persuade William Ddole to look after her! Marriage is what she has in mind for sure and from what I just witnessed, she’s well on the way to persuading him!’

  ‘Persuading who? Olwen, slow down and tell me properly what you know. I promise I will tell you the rest.’

  They sat down under the hedge and she told him of how difficult life had become since Annie arrived. Then of her fears that Annie intended to persuade William to see her as a replacement for his wife, Dorothy.

  ‘She’ll send us away, even Dozy Bethan who has never known any other home, and everyone will be miserable.’

  ‘Stop your worrying, Olwen,‘ he said grimly. ‘There’s no marrying for my mother. My father it was who she ran away from, not my uncle. She is still married.’

  ‘But we must tell William Ddole!’

  The relief was brightening Olwen’s face and on impulse, Cadwalader leaned over and kissed her.

  ‘Perhaps we should also tell him that she sold the boarding house bought with my father’s money which she ran with our help. Sold it without a word. The three of us were evicted, thrown into the street, with only what we wore, while she set off with the money and searched for a new life.’

  ‘What shall we do?’ Olwen asked, looking to him for guidance.

  ‘Wait until this evening, and you tell him what you know. That way he might overlook your impertinence. Then, I will be waiting outside to corroborate your story if he doesn’t believe you.’

  Their plans made, Cadwalader walked with her to the field, where, lunch time spent, she went back to work without tasting the food she had helped to carry down.

  William sent for her as soon as the party of weary workers dragged themselves back from the shadowy fields. The sun was below the horizon, but while there had been light enough to see their feet, the men insisted they continued. Glancing at him, Olwen saw at once that his anger had remained with him. There was no sign of Annie.

  ‘I’m sorry, Olwen, but you will have to go,’ he said grimly. ‘I have been lax in not sending you on your way before and it was only my daughter’s affection for you that saved you. Before you leave, I wish you to apologize to Annie for the unhelpful attitude that has made her work less than pleasant.’

  ‘That I won’t, sir!’ she said at once, ‘and if you will listen for just a moment, you will understand my reasons.’

  ‘No Olwen, I won’t give you a moment!’

  ‘There’s no drunken uncle,’ she said quickly. And before he could stop her she added, ‘There is a drunken husband though.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. Go home before I whip you.’

  ‘Sold his boarding house she did and ran off with the money and if you don’t believe me, ask her son, Cadwalader. Outside he is, shall I call him?’

  ‘Where did you hear this nonsense?’ William demanded.

  ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this and I know you will make me leave because of it, but I couldn’t just do nothing, sir, even if it means losing my place.’ Olwen hung her head, very frightened, half expecting him to hit her, although unlike many masters he never had before.

  ‘We will talk about this in the morning. First I need to hear Annie’s story. I have to be fair.’

  He was shaken and bi
tterly disappointed. There was little doubt in his mind that the girl was telling the truth, unless Annie’s son spread this version out of spite and jealousy; such things had been known to happen, he consoled himself.

  He watched through the window as Olwen walked up the drive and saw Cadwalader meet her there. With a sigh he went up the stairs and opened the door of Annie’s bedroom. Looking in he saw that she was fast asleep. He had no heart for facing her and closed the door again.

  * * *

  Annie opened her eyes and raised herself in the bed; beneath the covers she was fully dressed. Having heard all Olwen had said, she made her plans. When the house had settled into the darkness of the summer night, she crept down the stairs and to the saucepan which was standing ready filled with milk for his regular evening drink, and she added the sleeping powder which William had obtained for her use.

  Two hours later she left the house, carrying a heavy case in either hand, and hurried across the fields towards the town to find her daughter.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Olwen was dismissed by William on the following morning. He had woken up to find the house empty apart from Bethan, who, having heard of the events of the previous day from Olwen, tapped cautiously on his door with water for him to wash and said nervously, ‘Seems it’s only me and Olwen to do everything.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘She’s gone, sir.’

  Without being told to whom Bethan referred, William knew it was Annie. He felt bitter regret and wondered sadly what she had taken with her.

  ‘Olwen no longer works for me,’ he told a startled Bethan.

  ‘Then there’s only me!’ she gasped, sitting down with the bowl and jug still in her hands. ‘Can’t do it all, sir, now can I?’

  ‘Get me some breakfast. First things first,‘ he said. ‘The rest we’ll sort out later.’

  ‘About Olwen, sir, gone to the fields she has.’

  ‘I will go and see her as soon as I have broken my fast,’ he said grimly. ‘And let this be a lesson, Bethan. No one is allowed to be impertinent, not even those who feel that this is their home.’

  ‘No, sir.’ Bethan put the bowl and jug on the washing stand and left the room in what was, for her, great speed.

  William washed and dressed and by the time he had reached the dining room, Bethan had brought cold meat, bread and cheese, a bowl of fruit and was pouring a tankard of ale. She was at his elbow to refill his glass and to cut him fresh pieces of the previous day’s loaf and he was able to smile, wondering how long she could keep up the pace. When he turned to ask her for a fresh plate for the fruit he had chosen, she was sitting on a chair, fast asleep.

  William walked to the fields and called Olwen to him. She ran smiling, her blue eyes glowing with good health, her face bronzed by the sun, the freckles standing out giving her a mischievous look. When she ran to him, there was no anxiety in her expression; a smile added a glow to her lovely young face so he hated himself for what he had to tell her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Olwen, but I no longer want you to work at Ddole House,’ he said at once. Guilt swept through him as the smile faded.

  ‘I know I was rude, sir, but I thought, when you realized I was telling the truth you would forgive me. Someone had to say it, sir.’ Her voice sounded breathless, the unexpected announcement having shocked her. ‘I thought I’d have a telling off, or that you would cut my wages like Annie often did, but – I’m a-w-f-u-l sorry.’

  She bent her head and he guessed that tears were filling her eyes. He almost relented but knew he would be a fool to allow a servant girl to get away with such behaviour. Why was life so difficult? Why was he more and more alone? He turned away and walked back to the house. Trailing behind him, he knew without turning around, was the dejected figure of Olwen. A small, unimportant child, straw in her hair, an oversized shabby apron tied about her tiny waist, a look of utter despair and sorrow on her face. He hardened his heart and increased his pace.

  When he reached the open door he saw Cadwalader sitting comfortably against the step, his bundle beside him, his arms around his knees.

  ‘What do you want?’ he demanded gruffly.

  ‘Please may I beg a moment of your time, sir?’ he asked.

  ‘No, you may not. Your mother is no longer here and I have no idea where she may have gone.’ William was curt as he walked past the seated young man.

  ‘My mother stole the boarding house that belonged to my father,’ Cadwalader said to the retreating back. ‘What Olwen told you was the truth. The first we knew of it was when the new owners came and threw what few items that were ours into the road.’

  ‘It’s no longer my concern,’ William answered. ‘Now go, before I set the dogs on you.’

  ‘As you please, sir. But forgive Olwen, she was guilty only of telling my story for me.’ He rose to his feet and gathering his belongings around him, walked back to the gate.

  William watched him go, his jaw tight with anger, not aimed at Cadwalader, but against fate that seemed to treat him so badly since Dorothy had gone. He went to the stables and mounted his horse. Riding with no real aim, he found himself near the house of Daniels. Outside, washing clothes in a big bath of soapy water, was Florrie.

  She looked flustered when she saw him. Her hands flew to her hair, patting it as if to create a miracle of tidiness in seconds. Her face was red with the effort of scrubbing the clothes and around her, on bushes, were other clothes drying, the result of many hours’ work, he guessed.

  ‘Florrie, forgive me for delaying you,’ he said. ‘If you’ve a moment, I must tell you what has happened to Annie.’

  ‘The wicked woman, sir!’ she exclaimed when he had briefly told her what had occurred. ‘To think that you were willing to put your comfort and wellbeing in her hands!’

  ‘Have you an idea where we can look for a replacement?’

  ‘I will sit and think about it, but I suppose we will have to go to the town and ask. Perhaps, if Daniels can spare me for an afternoon, I might go there and see what I can find?’

  He looked at her face, red and moist, but white near the hairline, and wished she did not have to work so hard.

  ‘Is there any need for you to do this?’ He waved his hand at the washing surrounding them.

  ‘I confess it’s vanity,’ she admitted, going on to explain, ‘Daniels’s sister is constantly reminding me of how ill equipped I am to be his wife, having been used to having others around me to do the worst of the work. I am foolish enough to try and prove her wrong.’

  ‘I suppose Daniels would not spare you for a while to help me out of my difficulty? I have told Olwen she must go, and with the others having been dismissed by Annie, I doubt I will get any food, let alone have someone to wash my clothes!’

  ‘She has “left you in the lurch“ as the crib players say. In the circumstances I think Daniels would be willing for me to come back until you are suited, sir.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ he asked tentatively.

  ‘Now,’ she said. ‘and with your permission, I’ll call and gather a few of the servants who have left, so we have something to build on.’

  Within twenty-four hours, the house was humming with the conversation of the returned servants. William tried to forget that Florrie’s presence was temporary and he relaxed to enjoy the sound of cheerful voices around him again, something he had sorely missed.

  * * *

  Two people were unhappy with the new arrangements, one being Olwen.

  ‘I know I deserved it, Mamma, and that makes it worse,’ Olwen told Mary. ‘I know you have warned me often about holding my tongue, but the house had become such an unhappy one and my thoughts burst out unbidden when I am vexed.’

  ‘Don’t I know it!’ Mary wailed. ‘Best we forget it now. Perhaps there will be another position for you. In the meantime you can help me with the work here, there’s plenty for an extra pair of hands for sure. We want to have a good supply of garments to sell at Neath Fair.’

  ‘Ca
n I go and tell Barrass?’ she asked, and she looked so disconsolate that Mary agreed.

  * * *

  Daniels was less easily comforted. He had been met by his sister telling him of Florrie’s return to full-time employment at Ddole House and had at once ridden over to talk to her.

  ‘What does this mean, Florrie?’ he asked, as, smoothing his clothes after his ride, he settled in front of the kitchen fire. ‘Don’t I even justify a discussion before you hare off to help out your employer?’

  ‘William Ddole is in trouble. You can’t expect me to ignore the fact that the woman I approved to replace me has left him without a soul to run his house.’

  ‘Am I unreasonable to expect that your loyalties change now you and I are to be wed?’

  ‘It’s only for a week or so, just time to find servants to replace the ones Annie dismissed, or treated so badly that they left.’

  ‘Or until the next crisis!’

  ‘No, Daniels, this will be the last time, that I promise, only…’

  ‘Go on?’ He watched her as she neatly cut slices of the meat she was about to serve, her hands dealing with the bony joint of pork with a dexterity that fascinated him. Filling a plate with the thin pieces of meat she added a few sprigs of herbs to enhance it and went on to tip the strained vegetables into a large tureen.

  She would be such an asset to him and his family, if only she could be persuaded to name a day. Efficient and always looking her best, the children would soon learn to be obedient to her. Then he looked from her hands to her face and saw that there was something troubling her.

  ‘There’s something else, isn’t there, my dear?’

  ‘Daniels, your sister is right, I will find it hard to cope with a household of five on my own. The washing alone took me all day, then the iron threatens to keep me a captive at the kitchen table for a further day. I am used to having servants to do these things and, well, it would be hard for me to do them all. I admit that it is these thoughts that make me hesitate to become your wife.’