by Rosie Harris
Mathew was in bed, lying hunched up on his knees, his face buried in the pillow.
‘You can’t be very comfortable like that,’ Kate murmured as she straightened the bedclothes.
‘I’m all right.’
‘Lie down straight and see if you can touch the bottom of the bed with your toes. It will make you grow taller!’
‘I don’t want to.’
Slowly he straightened out in the bed.
‘Why are you crying, Mathew?’ asked Kate when she caught sight of his tear-stained face.
‘I thought you’d forgotten about coming back,’ he sniffed with a muffled sob.
‘I was waiting for you to undress.’
‘I’ve been in bed for ages.’
He sounded so forlorn that her heart went out to him. Her doubts about staying were wiped from her mind as she smoothed his brow and calmed him.
Kate sat by Mathew’s bed for almost half an hour, holding his hand and talking to him until he finally fell asleep. Gently she released his fingers from her own and tucked in the bedclothes round his thin little body before extinguishing the candle and tiptoeing away to her own bed.
Chapter 12
Olwen Price took an immediate liking to Kate Stacey.
‘There’s nice it is to have another woman around the place,’ she remarked to Glynis over and over again. ‘The change in that young Mathew is a joy to see.’
‘You said she was nothing but an upstart when she first came here,’ Glynis reminded her.
She thought Kate looked just like the picture on the chocolate box the mistress had given her the Christmas before she had died. The chocolates had lasted only until the new year but the painting on the cover of a beautiful girl, with jet black ringlets falling on to her milk-white shoulders, had entranced Glynis and she had treasured the box ever since.
‘I admit I was taken aback at first,’ Mrs Price agreed primly.
‘You mean her coming right out of the blue without a word of warning.’
‘That and arriving in the middle of the night.’
‘Bit of a shock, like!’
‘It took a bit of getting used to, I must admit.’
‘She’s nice though,’ murmured Glynis.
‘She’ll do,’ Mrs Price admitted grudgingly.
Kate’s arrival had needed some getting used to. Mrs Price had been struggling for ages to keep the place going, with only Glynis and Sara, the daily woman, as regular helpers, and then suddenly Kate Stacey had appeared and started organizing everything as if she was in charge!
Anyone who could bring a spot of happiness into young Mathew’s life was acceptable as far as she was concerned. It had broken her heart to see the way he had taken his mother’s death. No amount of tempting him with his favourite foods seemed to make any difference to his flagging spirits. It had been as if he was wasting away before their eyes.
Since Kate Stacey had been in the house there had been a tremendous change for the better. Mathew’s appetite was still poor for a young boy, but at least he was attempting to eat what was on his plate instead of pushing it to one side and leaving it. He was more cheerful, too. Once or twice she had actually heard him laughing. And he didn’t mope around the house as he had done. Nor did he spend as much time in her kitchen.
She missed his company, but it was good to see him riding out in the trap or being taken for a walk. When they returned his eyes would be bright and there would be a spring in his step and colour in his cheeks.
He’d never be half the man his brother was, of course, but then Brynmor was cast from a different mould.
Brynmor might have his father’s dark eyes and hair, but for all that he took after his maternal grandfather.
Olwen Price could remember the first time she had ever seen Rhys Carew. She had been almost thirteen when she’d started work at Pwll-du. He’d been a formidable-looking man with his full set of whiskers and piercing dark eyes. She had never seen anyone so broad in the shoulders. And he’d had a great paunch to match. Rhys Carew was master and expected to be obeyed. When he roared out an order everyone jumped.
He’d thought the world of his daughter. That was why when Myfanwy had married Morgan Edwards he had insisted that she should accompany her to Machen Mawr.
‘I know I can rely on you, Olwen Price, to see my Myfanwy is properly looked after,’ he had boomed, his hand on her shoulder. ‘It will be a home for the rest of your life.’
As a young, lonely widow, having lost her husband Llewellyn at the Battle of Waterloo four years earlier, she had complied.
She had performed her duties loyally. She would defy anyone to say different. She had nursed Myfanwy through both her pregnancies and been at her side when she was dying. She had done everything in her power to make her life as easy as possible.
‘Myfanwy was a proud beauty when she was a girl,’ Mrs Price confided in Kate as they sat in her parlour enjoying a cup of tea. ‘She had big brown eyes, thick lashes and dark, glossy hair. And she had the most perfect oval face you’ve ever seen. Just like a cameo.’
‘So it was after Mathew was born that she went into a decline?’
‘That’s right. She never really picked up after her lying-in. Lost all her looks. Her hair went lank and her face became haggard,’ Mrs Price sighed as she refilled their cups.
‘Was Mathew a troublesome baby?’
‘I suppose that had a lot to do with it. He was difficult over feeding and cried such a lot at night that he kept the whole house awake. It seemed to wear her down. The slightest exertion tired her out and she spent more and more time resting in her room. Sometimes she’d stay there all day!’
Enjoying a cup of tea together each afternoon became a regular practice and Mrs Price confided more and more in Kate as their friendship strengthened.
Kate learned that because Myfanwy was so often indisposed, more and more responsibility had fallen on Mrs Price. She learned of the subterfuges Mrs Price had resorted to in her attempt to keep from Myfanwy even the slightest whisper of anything that might upset her.
Because of Brynmor it had been difficult.
‘Brynmor was a problem from the moment he could walk,’ Mrs Price explained, shaking her grey head regretfully.
‘In what way?’
‘Whatever he demanded he was given.’
‘Spoilt and indulged!’
‘He grew up thinking he owned the world. At fifteen he was the terror of the neighbourhood.’ She paused and wiped the corner of her eye with her apron. ‘Perhaps if I hadn’t tried to shield him, matters would have been nipped in the bud, but I couldn’t bear to think how upset my Miss Myfanwy would be if she ever heard of the scrapes he got himself into.’
Kate’s attention was captured. For the moment she forgot that she was waiting for the chance to ask Olwen Price about Myfanwy’s friend Helen and whether she had known Helen’s brother David.
‘Covering up for Brynmor led him to believe that I was willing to condone anything he might do,’ Mrs Price confided.
‘You probably were, up to a point.’
‘I suppose so, but I drew the line when he started pestering the girls who worked here. As soon as I found out what was going on I refused to have any young maids living in. For their own sakes, you understand!’
‘So what happened?’
‘They soon grew tired of the long walk night and morning, especially in winter when it was dark and the roads icy or snowbound. One by one they left, until in the end it was difficult to run things properly.’
‘Glynis lives in, doesn’t she?’ Kate murmured.
‘Well, yes, but that’s different.’
‘Oh?’ Kate’s eyebrows rose questioningly.
‘She’s my niece, see. And she’s not too bright.’ Olwen Price tapped her head significantly.
‘That’s very sad!’
‘I put it down to the fact that my sister was in her forties when Glynis was born,’ explained Mrs Price.
‘And her mother died when sh
e was born?’
‘Oh no! Glynis was going on fourteen when her mother died. There was no one but me to look after her so I thought that as she was strong and healthy, she might as well come and help out here as go anywhere else.’
‘Where you could keep an eye on her!’
‘Indeed!’
‘And you’ve had no problems from Brynmor?’
‘She sleeps in the room right next to mine on the top floor where I know she’s safe.’
As the weather had turned dull and drizzly, Kate took to spending more and more time with Olwen Price, encouraging her to reminisce, hoping she would talk about Myfanwy’s childhood and perhaps mention Helen and David at the same time. Mostly, though, Olwen Price talked about what it had been like at Machen Mawr after Myfanwy had died.
‘It was as if a lamp had gone out,’ Olwen Price said sadly. ‘The place wasn’t the same. The master had no interest in what was happening in the house. As long as his meals were on the table and there was a clean change of clothes to hand, that was all that mattered.’
‘But surely he was concerned about Mathew?’
‘At first. He even took him out and about, but it didn’t last.’
‘Mathew seems to be frightened of him.’
‘He’s happiest when he’s here in the kitchen with me. Likes to talk about his mother, see, and his father can’t put up with that.’
‘And Brynmor? Did he grieve?’
‘Not really! He was too busy learning all there was to know about japanning. He went off to Pontypool most days. People felt sorry for him, knowing he had just lost his mother, so they were willing to answer his questions. Some even offered him a job. He’d only stay a few weeks though, and then he’d move on. Folks thought he was restless because he was grieving. It wasn’t that at all. He was studying their methods, see! He used to make notes about the different ways they did things. Back here, he’d be up in his room carrying out all sorts of tests. You should have seen the mess he made! Nasty smells, too! He hated it when I cleared any of it away!’ She sighed expressively. ‘It paid off, mind you! In the end he knew more about japanning than any of them. Then he persuaded his father to set him up on his own.’
‘And has it worked out well?’
‘Indeed it has! His achievements have been outstanding.’
‘You mean he runs his own business?’
‘It’s as if he’s combined the flair of old Rhys Carew with that of his father plus a spark of genius of his own,’ Mrs Price exclaimed.
Kate’s interest quickened at the mention of Rhys Carew’s name. She was far more interested in hearing about him than she was about Brynmor and encouraged Mrs Price to talk about the past.
She even offered to do some of the mending when she learned it was the job Mrs Price disliked most.
‘We can talk while I’m working,’ she smiled, sitting by the kitchen window. ‘Tell me more about Rhys Carew,’ she invited as she deftly replaced the buttons on one of Mathew’s shirts.
‘Myfanwy’s father. Well, he was one of the greatest ironmasters in Blaenafon. A very forward-thinking man. Do you know, he was one of the first to use coal instead of wood to fuel his ironworks.’
She paused, pushing aside the apple pie she was making and sitting down in one of the high-backed wooden armchairs.
‘Those were great days, I can tell you.’
‘Was he a good boss?’
‘Men were proud to work for him.’
‘And you say that Morgan Edwards once worked for him?’ asked Kate, picking up another shirt to mend.
‘Indeed, he did!’ Olwen Price’s eyes misted with tears. ‘I can remember when Morgan Edwards hadn’t two halfpennies to rub together. Lived in a terrace house no better than the one I was brought up in.’
‘Really?’
‘Rhys Carew was quick to spot that he had a feeling for the iron, see. Encouraged him. Made him foreman. Treated him like the son he never had. Worked him hard, mind you, but look at his reward! In next to no time, when most young men of his age were still serving their time, Morgan Edwards was in charge and running things.’
‘And then he met Myfanwy and fell in love with her,’ Kate added dreamily.
‘There’s lovely you make it sound,’ Mrs Price sighed.
‘Why? Wasn’t it like that?’
‘People thought Rhys Carew was out of his mind marrying his lovely Myfanwy off to a man who worked for him. Rhys Carew ignored them all. It was what he wanted.’
‘The two most precious things in his life, his ironworks and his daughter, united.’
‘Mind you,’ Olwen sighed, overcome by nostalgia, ‘it wasn’t all plain sailing. Morgan Edwards had a lot to learn.’
‘You mean before he fitted in socially.’
‘And in business. There was fierce competition. The most famous ironworks in South Wales, you see, are right here on our own doorstep. As long ago as 1827 they had seven of the biggest blast furnaces ever seen.’
‘Those must be the ones I saw my first day here,’ Kate shuddered, recalling the odorous fumes and the huge glowing furnaces.
‘They belong to a pair of Yorkshiremen: Joseph Bailey and his younger brother, Crawshay. A ruthless pair, I can tell you! In my opinion, the only good thing they’ve ever done was to build a tramway that connects the ironworks at Nantyglo with the canal at Llanfoist. And they constructed that more for their own benefit than anyone else’s. Out to make a fortune those two, see!’
‘Those furnaces were what I have always imagined hell must be like!’ affirmed Kate.
‘Lots of the men who have to work there would agree with that,’ Mrs Price admitted, ‘especially those who work for the Baileys.’
‘They aren’t popular?’
‘Most of the men hate them. Crawshay and his brother know this and that is why they built those two monstrous stone towers up behind their house. You must have noticed them. If ever there is trouble brewing at their works in Nantyglo they can take refuge there, see!’
‘And have they ever had to use them?’ Kate asked, biting off an end of cotton.
‘Many times! The “Scotch Cattle” used to go on the rampage around there!’
‘The what!’
‘Bands of men dressed up in the skins and horns of animals. They would tear through Nantyglo terrorizing any men they decided were blacklegs. Mind you, we didn’t have any trouble of that sort around Blaenafon. Rhys Carew would never had stood for it.’
‘The men who worked for Rhys Carew liked him, did they?’ asked Kate.
‘Some did, some didn’t. They had to admit, though, he was always ready to listen to ways of improving things. Like renting his workers a plot of land so that they could build themselves cottages.’
‘That sounds a wonderful idea.’
‘It was. Put to him by Robert Owen. Within ten years the place had grown into a tidy-sized village. Lovely it was, with all the trees. Folks had gardens where they could grow their own vegetables and there was a big village green shaded by oaks and beeches. He built them a market-house that could also be used as a chapel and it had a fine burial ground laid out beside it.’
‘Was Robert Owen Lady Helen’s father?’ questioned Kate, her pulse racing at the mere mention of the name Owen.
‘Oh bless you, no! The Owen I’m talking about came from Montgomeryshire. He was full of ideas to try and get better conditions for the workers, but none of them seem to meet with much success. The last time I heard of him he was trying to get all the workers to form a co-operative. I don’t know what difference he thinks it will make. Workers is workers and bosses is bosses. Always has been and always will be.’
‘Some bosses are better to work for than others,’ Kate said mildly.
‘And some folks work better than others,’ rejoined Olwen Price, ‘so how can you expect the good ones to throw their lot in with those who couldn’t care less?’
Kate picked up her sewing again, listening with only half an ear to what Mrs Price was saying. I
t was David’s family she was interested in, but it was some time before Mrs Price got back on to that subject.
When she did, it was as if a dam had burst.
Everything Kate had longed to hear seemed to pour from her lips.
‘My word, Tudor ap Owen would be taken aback if he heard his name linked with that Robert Owen,’ she said at last.
‘Tudor ap Owen, that’s Helen’s father?’
‘Yes, and a man of high standing around these parts. One of the real gentry, wealthy and highly respected. He owns Fforbrecon and he farms as well. Acres and acres of land he has around Govilon. Most of the sheep you see on Blorenge belongs to him.’
‘He must be getting on in years now.’
‘Outlived old Rhys Carew! I suppose Miss Helen’s young brother, David, will step into his shoes when…’
‘Did you know David?’ Kate interrupted, trying to quell the excitement in her voice.
‘No!’ Mrs Price shook her head. ‘He was just a child when Miss Myfanwy married master. He’ll be grown up by now, of course.’
‘He used to visit Lady Helen quite frequently when I was at Bramwood Hall,’ Kate told her, eager to talk about David.
‘There now! I don’t suppose I would know him if I fell over him.’
Kate sensed Mrs Price was not really interested in David, but that no longer mattered. She had already told her enough to give her hope. Knowing Fforbrecon colliery was close by, she could plan what to do next, confident that she and David would meet again before very long.
Chapter 13
During her first weeks at Machen Mawr, Kate spent most of her time with Mathew. He flourished from her undivided attention, striving to please her in whatever work or pastime she suggested.
On fine days, they walked a great deal, exploring the nearby countryside with its strident contrasts of green valleys and pit-scarred mountains. When it rained, they read together or he played the pianoforte, and the regular practice improved his skill considerably.
Once Mathew went back to school, Kate looked for other ways to occupy her day. He left the house just after eight each morning to ride with his father into Brynmawr to Dr Howell’s academy and it was almost six in the evening before he returned home. When she learned from Mrs Price that no spring cleaning had been undertaken, Kate felt this omission should be rectified, even though it was now September.
