by Rosie Harris
* * *
Kate took special care dressing for dinner that evening. She chose the most simple of the dresses Helen had given her, a grey silk one with a demure white lace collar.
She combed her hair into a soft coil in the nape of her neck, so that its shining blackness contrasted starkly against the creamy whiteness of her skin. As she tamed the unruly curls that framed her face, she leaned nearer to the mirror and frowned as she saw the dark shadows beneath her eyes, evidence of the harrowing, sleepless nights of recent weeks.
Brynmor was already seated when she arrived in the dining room. As she took her place at the table he gave her such a sharp, penetrating stare that she found herself flushing uncomfortably. It was as if he read her mind and knew what she intended to do.
She tried to ignore him, addressing her remarks either to Morgan Edwards or Mathew, but she felt so self-conscious that she found it difficult to eat.
After Glynis had cleared away the dessert dishes, Kate made her excuses, leaving the two men to enjoy their port while she saw Mathew to bed.
As she rose from her chair, a feeling of nausea swept over her. She clutched at the table. The room swam. A rushing in her ears and an overpowering giddiness assailed her. She heard herself cry out and then knew no more until she found herself lying on a sofa with Mrs Price rubbing her hands and Morgan Edwards trying to force brandy between her lips.
She made an effort to sit up but reeled back as a myriad of spots swam before her eyes. From afar she heard Morgan Edwards telling Brynmor to send Dai Jenkins for the doctor, or ride out himself if it was quicker.
She struggled desperately to tell them not to bother but the words never came, only waves of grey mist that no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t push away.
When she finally managed to shake off the terrible feeling of dizziness, and take a few sips of water, she tried to stammer out an apology for all the fuss she was causing.
Morgan Edwards shushed her to silence. Patting her shoulder, he ordered her to lie still until the doctor arrived.
Dr Davies, a thin, grey-haired man with a sharp voice, had an irritating way of clearing his throat after everything he said. He waved Morgan and Brynmor from the room, took Kate’s temperature and pulse, snapped out a few pertinent questions and turned away.
‘What is wrong with me… why did I faint? I’ve never done anything like that before in my life!’
Dr Davies didn’t answer. He cleared his throat noisily, closed his black bag with a decisive snap, picked up his tall silk hat and abruptly left the room.
Kate could hear him in the hall conversing with Morgan Edwards. Bewildered by his attitude and anxious to know what they were saying, she stumbled to her feet, holding on to the back of the nearest chair for support as she stood upright.
Before she reached the door, Morgan Edwards returned.
‘What did he say was wrong with me?’ Her voice faltered as his dark eyes pinned her, staring so relentlessly that she shivered, cold fear gripping her.
‘You don’t know?’
She shook her head, puzzled by the tightness of his mouth, the contemptuous tone of his voice.
‘He said he suspected you were pregnant!’
Her mouth gaped. A faint sheen of perspiration glistened on her upper lip. Her eyes clouded, like milk-blue marbles. For a moment she felt so giddy that she thought she was going to faint again.
‘Can you explain your condition?’
She flinched, a sudden rush of colour staining her cheeks. She wondered what he knew.
‘Have you anything to say?’ His face remained passive, only the slight twitching of a facial muscle belying his impatience.
‘I intended speaking to you this evening about what has been happening,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I hardly know how to begin…’
‘Concerning Brynmor coming to your room at night?’
‘You know,’ she gasped, ‘yet you’ve done nothing about it!’
She couldn’t believe she had endured the long weeks of torment in silence when all the time Morgan Edwards knew what was happening.
‘Why didn’t you order him to stop!’ she challenged, her voice shrill with anger.
‘You hadn’t complained,’ he commented drily.
‘Only because I was afraid to do so!’ She shuddered convulsively.
‘Why?’
‘Brynmor said you would whip Mathew if I said anything to you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.’ Her breath caught audibly in her throat.
‘Whip Mathew! Why should I do that?’ he asked, frowning.
‘Brynmor said you would…’
‘Perhaps you had better start at the beginning,’ he snapped curtly. He indicated a chair and then sat facing her.
Hesitantly at first, then with a growing determination that he should know everything, Kate told her story.
A peculiar stiffness seemed to freeze Morgan Edwards’ features as he listened to her revelations. He allowed no glimmer of sympathy or condemnation to show on his face. When she had finished he rose from his chair and walked over to a side table that held a whisky decanter and glasses. He stood for a moment with the decanter in his hand, as if digesting what she had just told him. Then he poured out two drinks and handed one to her.
‘So what are you planning to do now?’ he asked in a clipped voice.
‘I don’t know!’ She took a sip of her drink, choking as the fiery liquid seared the back of her throat. Unsteadily, she rested the glass on the arm of her chair. ‘I had intended telling you tonight about what was happening and insisting you should stop Brynmor coming to my room!’
‘Are you fond of Mathew?’ he asked abruptly.
‘Oh, yes!’ Kate’s face softened. ‘It will be a terrible wrench to leave him.’
He gave her an appraising stare, then rose and began to pace the room. He paused and refilled his glass, studying the amber liquid abstractedly.
‘I want you to know that I am extremely satisfied by the way you have taken over the running of things here. There has been a marked improvement in Mathew since you arrived.’
He took a drink from his glass, swilling the liquid around in his mouth, savouring it before swallowing it, watching her reaction from under lowered lids.
‘Brynmor is in the first flush of youth, so we can dismiss what has happened as a passing experience,’ he said, breaking the uneasy silence.
‘You mean…’
‘We’ll say no more about it. I will deal with him. He won’t trouble you again.’
‘That may be so, but…’
‘I haven’t finished yet,’ Morgan Edwards interrupted. ‘This child you are expecting will need a home… you would find it difficult to find another position in your condition.’
He looked at her questioningly.
As she saw the sensual gleam directed towards her, Kate realized the role he was expecting her to play. She felt outraged, filled with a dark anger.
To do what Morgan Edwards was suggesting would simply be exchanging one illicit affair for another! When she’d become a nanny she’d seen it as an opportunity to better herself and escape from the rut of being a skivvy. Now she seemed to be in danger of slipping into an even worse furrow.
Inwardly she railed against the invidious situation she found herself in, but common sense warned her that it would be foolish to walk out of Machen Mawr.
She had very little money left, and even if she found David, the chances of him still being free to marry her diminished with each passing day.
It was no good sighing for the moon. She must forget her dreams and be practical.
Refusing to wilt under Morgan Edwards’ direct stare she held her head high, biting the inside of her cheeks to stop herself speaking until she had worked out what to say.
She studied Morgan Edwards from under lowered lashes, knowing he was impatient for her answer yet determined not to be intimidated.
‘You are right. If I am expecting a child then it will nee
d a home,’ she agreed, struggling to keep her voice steady.
‘Then it’s settled.’
‘You mean I can stay on here?’
‘Mrs Price will have to be told about the baby, but there is no need to mention our arrangement,’ he warned.
‘So everything will be just the same as before.’
‘Well… almost!’ he agreed with a smirk.
‘Not quite!’ She drew in a deep breath, determined that if his desires were to be met then she would demand that he pay the ultimate price.
‘What do you mean?’
‘My child will also need a father.’
Morgan Edwards frowned as if baffled by her words. She sensed the struggle going on in his mind. The lascivious smile had left his face, but knowing how much he was lusting for her she never doubted what his answer would be.
Chapter 16
Brynmor Edwards looked bewildered.
‘You are handing over the Pontypool Works to me as a wedding settlement?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘I don’t understand! I haven’t made any marriage plans!’
Morgan Edwards leaned back in his high-backed leather armchair, rubbing a hand over his chin as he studied his elder son, wondering if he should have administered the reprimand first and told him the good news afterwards.
If he’d done that, there would have been a lengthy harangue as Brynmor protested his innocence and it would have seemed as if he was handing over the Pontypool Works as some sort of peace-offering. And that certainly wasn’t his intention!
‘Sit down, Brynmor. There’s a great deal I have to say to you.’
‘I hope you are not going to tell me that you have fixed up some sort of marriage agreement on my behalf,’ Brynmor blustered as he lowered himself into a chair on the other side of his desk and scowled at his father.
‘Would it matter if I had?’
‘That would depend on the woman involved,’ Brynmor prevaricated, crossing one leg over the other and studying the toe of his highly polished boot.
‘You have someone in mind?’ Morgan’s dark eyes narrowed.
‘Of course not!’
‘You’re quite sure?’
‘I haven’t time for squiring girls. Nor much opportunity to meet them socially since we never entertain,’ he added defensively.
‘I thought there was one already under this roof who’d taken your fancy.’ Morgan’s tone was deceptively quiet. As his gaze locked with Brynmor’s he saw the dull flush creep up over his son’s collar and for him it was proof enough that all Kate had told him was true.
‘Don’t trouble to lie,’ Morgan said quickly as Brynmor drew in a sharp breath and was about to launch on some garbled tale in order to avoid admitting his involvement.
Brynmor slumped back in his chair, deflated. He scowled back at his father from under beetling brows, and wondered just how much he knew. And who had told him. Surely not Kate. She was much too concerned about the consequences if she did.
His threats about what would happen if his father ever found out that she had taken Mathew into her bed obviously still terrified her. And for good measure he constantly reminded her that if she ever breathed a word about what was going on between them he would swear she had enticed him into her bed and she’d be thrown out of Machen Mawr.
Her distress had surprised him. It made subduing her even more exciting. He never tired of thinking up new and ever more devious ways of subjecting her to his will.
No matter what he did or demanded of her, Kate Stacey accepted it stoically. He sometimes wondered just how far he had to go to break her nerve, to reduce her to tears and have her begging for mercy.
Far from discouraging his attentions, it stimulated him when she lay there, eyes closed, gritting her teeth, her mouth grim with distaste. It spurred him to a sexual frenzy. With his bizarre knowledge of sensual games and perversions, one of these nights he must surely touch some wellspring within her and make her respond to him. His mind filled with so many erotic images that he found it difficult to concentrate on what his father was saying,
‘Perhaps I should remind you of what happened in the dining room. Aren’t you interested in why Kate Stacey fainted… or perhaps you already know the reason!’
Brynmor stared in alarm. He ran the tip of his tongue over his dry lips. He had sent Dai Jenkins for the doctor and, sensing trouble, taken himself off to Pontypool. Now it all seemed to jell. She was pregnant! That was why she had fainted!
His brain floundered. Had she named him as being responsible? He might be an astute businessman but on this occasion he hadn’t planned his next move. He knew his father was waiting for him to say something. Should he admit it or deny it, he wondered.
A cold sweat dampened his palms and brow. Hell’s teeth! This was a fine mess. Lie and be found out and he’d earn his father’s scorn and contempt. Admit he’d fathered a child on Kate Stacey and he might lose out on his father’s offer to make over the Pontypool Works as a wedding settlement.
As a wedding settlement!
His jaw dropped. He stared at his father. Had he heard right? His hand strayed to his stiff white collar, easing it so that he could breathe. He’d never been in a quandary like this before. He had no idea how to act.
Strange heats burst inside him, as he watched his father fill a pipe, tamping the golden strands of tobacco into the bowl with calm deliberation.
‘Have you been listening to kitchen gossip, Papa?’ he grinned, attempting to treat the matter in a jocular way.
‘About what?’
‘Kate Stacey… why she fainted.’
‘I asked for an explanation, naturally.’
‘And did she give one?’
‘Is it true?’
Brynmor wilted under his father’s direct stare. He shrugged, knowing it was useless to deny what had been going on, determined to deal severely with Kate for landing him in this wretched predicament.
‘What you were saying about the Pontypool Works…’ he blustered, trying to bluff it out. His voice faltered as his nerve failed. How could he hope for such a prize now. He tried to control his rage. To think he had been on the point of owning his own works. The red began to creep up above his collar again as he fought back a sour taste in his throat.
‘I said I would sign them over to you.’
‘You still mean to do that!’ Brynmor exclaimed incredulously.
‘As a marriage settlement.’
‘Marriage settlement!’ Brynmor shook visibly. ‘Are you saying that if I marry Kate Stacey you’ll give me the Pontypool Works…?’
‘I mean it will be yours as long as you never lay a finger on her ever again,’ declared Morgan Edwards in icy tones. ‘Is that perfectly clear?’
‘No… it’s not. I don’t understand.’
Perplexed, Brynmor wondered which of them was going mad. His father talked about a marriage settlement, yet when he agreed to marry Kate Stacey his father looked as though he was about to explode with anger.
The haze of confusion deepened as Morgan Edwards barked, ‘I’m the one who’s marrying her, you young fool. Paying for your mistake. Acknowledging the child you’ve fathered. I’m giving you the Pontypool Works as part of your inheritance. Find your own establishment, there’s no longer any room for both of us under the same roof.’
‘You are marrying Kate Stacey! Great heavens, why?’ Brynmor asked in shocked tones. ‘Mama’s been dead not a year!’
‘You should have thought of that when you started playing around, boyo. Fine education you might have had but your brains are still between your legs,’ Morgan added coarsely.
‘And you want me to leave Machen Mawr?’
‘That’s right. Buy yourself a house in Pontypool. I’ll advance you the money, or you can go into lodgings there. Do what you damn well like, but not under my roof,’ he barked. ‘Is that understood?’
‘How soon?’ Brynmor’s voice was strained, his throat tight and hot.
‘It
can’t be too soon for my liking. Kate won’t feel safe until you’ve gone.’
‘She’s the one who told you?’
‘I already suspected what was going on.’
‘But you said nothing!’
‘If you were randy, and she was willing, then what was there to say…’
‘So why make an issue of it now?’ Brynmor interrupted petulantly.
‘I’ve learned the truth about you, boyo. Disgusted I am!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Lust is one thing, but your behaviour is unnatural.’
‘What… what has she been telling you?’
‘I suppose you picked those tricks up when you were down in London.’
Brynmor pushed back his chair and stood up. He felt as though he was in some tortuous maze. For once he was afraid to argue in case he brought further incriminations upon himself. He had been found out. He was being offered an easy solution and he was sharp enough to realize that the best thing he could do was to accept it.
‘I’m going up to bed,’ he mumbled, walking towards the door.
‘Just make sure it is your own bed you climb into,’ his father warned.
‘Good night, Papa.’
‘I’ll tell Mrs Price to give you an early call in the morning. We’ll be leaving for Cardiff first thing.’
‘What for?’
‘There’s a lot of papers to be signed. We’ll probably be there for a couple of days.’
‘You mean to do with the Pontypool Works?’
‘That and the forthcoming marriage. My marriage, that is.’ His father smiled grimly. ‘There’s more than just your inheritance to sort out. Everything else must be settled legally.’
Brynmor couldn’t sleep. His mind was a whirlpool of jumbled thoughts and revenge was uppermost. For one wild moment he was tempted to creep along to Kate’s room. She ought to be punished. Vengeful yearnings sent a fire spreading through his loins. He wanted to make her cringe like a fear-frozen rabbit. He wanted to see those vivid blue eyes darken with despair as he defiled her. Remembering the sweetness of her mouth, the full ripeness of her milk-white body, he ached.
The realization that his father would be the one enjoying her favours tortured him still further. Vivid images of them lying together teased his mind. Would his father be dominant and demanding, he wondered, or would he be a gentle, considerate lover?
