by Rosie Harris
The thought that perhaps Kate would respond to his father’s touch wrapped cold tentacles round his heart. An orgasmic shivering consumed him. Whenever he had possessed her body, her icy compliance had always cheated him of full satisfaction.
If only he could break down her reserves… just once!
The temptation to visit her room one last time took possession of him. He tossed and turned, unable to ease his overpowering need. Throwing back the bedclothes, he rose and dressed rapidly, anxious to be out of the house. He couldn’t stay away from her, not while she was under the same roof. His father had been right on that score, he thought bitterly.
Moonlight bleached the gaunt hillsides. A dull glow from Morgan Edwards’ blast furnaces at Nantyglo bloodied the velvet canopy of sky. An autumn wind showed its teeth.
Brynmor paused in the gravel driveway, studying the square-built structure of Machen Mawr. A glimmer of light showed at the window of his father’s study, but the rest of the house was in darkness. In a few days’ time it would no longer be his home. He wasn’t ready to make such a break. He wasn’t sure he wanted the sole responsibility of the Pontypool Works.
The knowledge that his father was behind him in everything he did, a pillar of strength if things should go wrong, had given him the confidence to be bold. Knowing his father would cushion any mistakes he made had allowed him to be reckless and to take chances that more cautious men envied.
Already he was beginning to feel vulnerable because that protection had been withdrawn.
Was it really for his benefit that his father was marrying Kate Stacey and making himself responsible for the coming child?
Even as the doubt bubbled up in his mind it was overtaken by resentment and a sense of personal violation. How dare his father snatch his new-found pleasure away from him.
Comparing Kate’s voluptuous curves with the svelte, muscular bodies he had known in the past tantalized his senses.
If only she’d responded to him, showed some feeling, it might have cured him of his perversions. Even anger would have been preferable to dumb submission.
He thought of her lying in his father’s bed, her black hair fanned out over her white shoulders, covering her pink-tipped, rounded breasts, and wondered what her response would be. Their coupling would be pallid… but perhaps that was what she wanted after what he had subjected her to, he thought snidely. If his father thought for one moment that he was getting a wanton woman he was in for a disappointment. For all her ripe look, Kate Stacey had turned out to be a prude.
Burning with anger, Brynmor made his way to the stables. Sleep was impossible. Perhaps if he saddled up and rode out he might rid himself of the black devils on his back.
He’d need a clear head when he met the lawyers in Cardiff. If his father was planning to set his affairs in order it might affect his own inheritance.
He had never considered the matter before, but Morgan Edwards was a man of considerable property and wealth. He was not in the first flush of youth and he would be under considerable physical strain keeping a young bride happy, Brynmor thought cynically.
Doubtless his father would make sure that Mathew was well provided for in the event of anything happening to him, but what were his plans for the rest of his personal fortune?
The future of Machen Mawr, the ironworks and the coal mines suddenly seemed highly important.
As the elder son surely I deserve more than just the Pontypool Works, Brynmor thought angrily as he let himself into the stables. He viciously slapped the rump of his stallion. The horse kicked out, his hoof striking the side of his loosebox. The noise reverberated, startling the other horses and causing uproar.
‘Who’s down there?’
The voice took Brynmor by surprise. He had forgotten that Twm Jenkins slept over the stables.
‘It’s all right. There’s no need for you to get out of your bed,’ he growled.
His words came too late. Twm had already shinned down the ladder.
He stood there facing Brynmor, a tall, strapping lad of fifteen with curly dark hair and flashing dark eyes. He was bare-chested, his breeches pulled on in such haste as he’d sprung from his bed that they were still undone.
Brynmor’s eyes narrowed, startled by the fresh young maleness. As Twm advanced to take the stallion’s head and calm him, he touched the boy’s arm, letting his fingers slide slowly upwards. He felt the muscles tense as the youth held his breath. Their eyes locked. As a look of understanding passed between them, the boy relaxed, slowly exhaled and then turned away.
‘Shall I saddle him up for you, Master Brynmor?’
The question hung in the air. Even the stallion’s ears pricked, waiting for Brynmor’s answer.
‘If it’s company you are looking for, then I’ve ale up in my room and you’re very welcome to share it,’ Twm Jenkins invited.
Brynmor hesitated.
He found the bed-warm youth’s offer enticing. He knew he was on dangerous ground. There were hardly the same risks as he had taken with Kate Stacey, but his father would be less lenient if he learned of a second misdemeanour taking place under his own roof.
It might be his father’s home but soon it would no longer be his, Brynmor reminded himself, so why not enjoy what was on offer. The added danger brought exquisite excitement.
Hungrily, he eyed the lean, taut young body standing in front of him, then nodded curtly.
The boy’s mobile mouth widened into a welcoming smile. Without a word he turned and led the way back up the ladder to the loft above.
Heart beating, pulses racing, Brynmor followed.
The sickly sweet smell of hay and straw, mingled with that of leather and horses, filled his nostrils, bringing back vivid memories of young ostlers he had known and enjoyed in the coaching houses when he had been in London.
Chapter 17
‘Mistress of Machen Mawr!’
Kate held her chin a fraction higher as she heard the surprise in Olwen Price’s voice.
‘Well!’ the older woman let out a long breath, shaking her grey head from side to side in disbelief. ‘Mistress, is it!’ She paused, the teapot poised over Kate’s cup. ‘I suppose that means we won’t be having any more of these little get-togethers.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Kate felt her cheeks burn. ’Why shouldn’t I join you for an afternoon cup of tea. We enjoy each other’s company and our bit of gossip, now, don’t we,’ she added cajolingly.
‘It’s been fine while you’re Kate Stacey and working as a nanny,’ Mrs Price agreed, stirring sugar into her own cup, ‘but once you are the mistress… when you become Mrs Morgan Edwards… well, that puts a very different complexion on things, now doesn’t it!’
‘I don’t see that it makes any difference.’
‘It will hardly be right for us to drink tea and confide in each other when I’m just a servant and you are mistress here.’
‘Oh, come on, Olwen! Stop putting on airs and graces,’ Kate laughed awkwardly.
‘Things won’t be the same.’
‘Why should anything have to change?’
‘Like I said, you’ll be mistress and me your servant.’
‘I thought you’d be pleased by the news.’
‘Shocked more than anything else!’ blustered Mrs Price.
‘Oh, really, Olwen!’
‘I never for one moment thought that you and master had any feelings for each other.’ She pursed her lips disapprovingly. ‘And now you tell me you’re getting wed to him!’
She stared at Kate belligerently, wondering if her judgement had been wrong and she had been taken in after all. Her very first thoughts when Kate had arrived out of the blue came rushing back.
She had thought then that any girl travelling around the countryside on her own after dark, knocking on the door of a complete stranger and being prepared to stay the night without even making sure there was another woman under the same roof, must be something of a young hussy.
Yet when Kate had turned
out to be quietly spoken and helpful, and so good and kind to Mathew, she’d changed her mind and given her the benefit of the doubt. Until now she had not had any reason to think that her revised judgement had been wrong.
Even when Kate had taken over the day-to-day running of Machen Mawr, Olwen Price had never for one moment suspected any ulterior motive. Now, less than two months under their roof and she was to be the new mistress.
It took your breath away, Mrs Price thought mutinously.
Somehow she’d never thought of Morgan Edwards taking another wife. Not after being married to her Myfanwy.
He was still in his prime, of course, not yet fifty, and a pretty young woman like Kate Stacey would stir any man’s blood, she supposed.
She studied Kate covertly from over the rim of her teacup. There was no denying she was well favoured. Her wide-set eyes glowed like bright blue gems. The glistening black curls framing her cheeks made her skin look like pink-tinted rose petals. And she had a generous mouth, with even white teeth and a ready smile.
Despite the dark shadows beneath her eyes, she’d filled out since coming to Machen Mawr, Mrs Price reflected. It suited her. There was a new roundness to her figure and… Mrs Price stopped sharply. Her dark eyes glittered with speculation.
‘Was there anything else you had to tell me, Kate?’ she asked, holding her breath, dumbfounded by the sudden presentiment that crossed her mind.
‘I don’t think so,’ Kate murmured evasively.
‘After what happened last night I thought there might be some other news?’
‘You mean when I fainted?’
‘Kate… you’re not…’ Her gaze focused on Kate’s waistline, then slowly she looked up into Kate’s eyes, a look of disbelief in her own.
‘Pregnant, you mean,’ Kate’s voice was casual.
‘Oh, my heavens! I… I don’t know what to say. I feel flummoxed, I really do!’ Mrs Price exclaimed, fanning her face with her apron.
‘You must have already had your suspicions, since you asked if there was any news.’
‘I did wonder what the doctor had said…’
‘Well, now you know, and I can see you are as surprised as I am.’ Tears filled Kate’s eyes and she brushed them away quickly.
‘Duw Anwyl! What a state of affairs!’
The rising shrillness of Olwen Price’s voice jarred on Kate’s ears. Did she have to make such a scene about it, she thought irritably.
Olwen’s look of distress did worry her, though, and left her feeling she hadn’t handled the situation at all well. She wondered what story Morgan Edwards expected her to tell.
All they’d agreed was that she would explain what was happening to Mathew.
‘You’ll make the necessary arrangements for our wedding?’ she’d asked.
‘I’ll attend to the legal side.’
‘And the reception afterwards?’
He’d frowned. She suspected he would have liked to ignore such formalities, but she didn’t intend for it to be a hole-in-the-corner affair that would lead to gossip and speculation.
‘You can organize that with Mrs Price. Nothing too grand,’ he’d cautioned.
‘Of course not.’
‘It wouldn’t be right under the circumstances.’
She hadn’t seen him since. He’d absented himself from the house, taking Brynmor with him.
‘They’ve gone to Cardiff on business,’ Olwen told her. ‘Master said he would be away for several days.’
Kate wasn’t sure whether it was to give her time to get used to the idea that she was to be his wife, or to give him the chance to deal with Brynmor.
That predicament, at least, was behind her.
Now, looking at Olwen Price’s stricken face, she wondered how many more problems she was going to have to shoulder.
Glynis had to be told, though she didn’t for one moment expect her to show any concern. She’d probably giggle and then forget all about it five minutes later. No doubt there would be plenty of gossip behind her back amongst the others who worked at Machen Mawr, but it would pass.
The only one Kate felt really concerned about was Mathew. She had no way of knowing how he would react. The closeness they had enjoyed during her early days at Machen Mawr had been ruined by Brynmor the morning he had discovered Mathew in her bed. Since then there had been almost a barrier between them, as if Mathew was fearful of being hurt again.
It was ironic, she thought, that Brynmor had been able to blackmail her because she’d acted like a mother towards Mathew, and now she was going to be his stepmother.
Which also meant she would be Brynmor’s stepmother!
Bile rose in her throat; she felt grave-cold at the thought, filled with a disquieting presentiment of trouble ahead. If only she could turn back the clock, erase the past months and be back at Bramwood Hall, seeing David most weekends.
A shiver ran through her. Was she being too hasty in marrying Morgan Edwards? Was she making a terrible mistake?
It was a question that had tormented her ever since she had fainted.
The shock of discovering Dr Davies had told Morgan Edwards she was pregnant had clouded her judgement. Like Morgan Edwards, she assumed it was Brynmor’s child she was expecting. But was it? On reflection, it was much more likely to be David’s.
Marriage to Morgan Edwards would be a mockery. She couldn’t go through with it. She must find David. Once he knew about the baby… Cold fear gripped her heart. If he didn’t acknowledge the child was his, or if he was already married to Penelope Vaughan, what then? Morgan Edwards would certainly throw her out if he heard about David Owen and suspected the truth.
Her mind darkened. It was David she wanted.
Yet, under the circumstances, it made sense to become mistress of Machen Mawr and accept Morgan Edwards’ attentions than to be faced with a life of poverty, she thought, looking round the warm, comfortable kitchen.
She should be filled with relief that she had been able to solve her problem so adroitly. Instead, the hopelessness of the situation filled her with a deep sense of sadness.
What sort of future could she expect, bonded to a man she didn’t really know, having been abused by his son, and carrying another man’s child?
She stood up, straight and proud, her chin high as she carried her empty cup over to the sink. The die was cast, there was no turning back, so she must make the best of it.
‘I’ll see to that!’
Angrily, Kate swung round, two bright spots of colour staining her high cheekbones, her blue eyes glittering, her lips compressed in a tight line.
‘If you’re going to be the mistress here then you’d best leave washing the pots to the servants,’ Olwen Price told her in a grieved voice.
‘If that’s the attitude you’re going to take, Olwen, then I assume our friendship is over,’ declared Kate, her voice rising with indignation.
‘And what is that supposed to mean?’
‘You know well enough what I mean, but just to make sure I’ll spell it out for you,’ Kate told her tartly. ‘You have the choice: either consider me your friend, like you’ve done ever since I’ve been here, or else I warn you, Olwen, I’ll show no leniency.’
‘You mean you’ll behave like a mistress generally does towards a servant.’
‘That’s right. And remember,’ Kate gave a tight smile, ‘I know all the little secrets of what goes on down here.’
‘I don’t know what you mean!’
‘If you value your comfortable way of life you’d better make the right decision,’ warned Kate.
‘You’re the one who’s going to be mistress.’
‘Well? Do we stay friends?’
Hands on her hips, Kate faced Olwen Price. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but in the time she had been at Machen Mawr she had grown fond of Olwen Price. The older woman had a warm heart and had proved to be a good friend. Marriage to Morgan Edwards was uncharted seas; she wanted to be sure she had a shoulder to cry on.
/> Before Mrs Price could answer, a strangled cry from the passageway took them by surprise. Kate reached the kitchen door first, in time to see Mathew scuttling away.
Forgetting their differences, both women stared at each other questioningly, wondering how long he had been there.
‘You’d best go and see to him,’ Mrs Price admonished. ‘No knowing what he has heard. The shock might bring on one of his attacks.’
Kate found Mathew huddled on his bed, his breathing, ragged with sobs, dragging harshly from his heaving chest.
She spoke his name softly but he wouldn’t even uncover his face, so she sat down on the side of the bed and stroked his hair, hoping to calm him. When she could stand it no longer she gathered him into her arms but he fought her off, kicking and struggling, like a mad thing.
‘All right, all right, stop getting yourself into such a state,’ she told him firmly.
‘Leave me alone!’
‘I don’t know what you overheard downstairs but I’ll tell you the truth, if you’ll listen.’
‘Go away!’
His scream was so hysterical that for a moment she felt panic rising inside her. If he carried on like this he would have a full-scale asthma attack and she was not at all sure how to cope on her own.
‘Listen to me.’ She tried to keep her voice firm and steady even though her own heart was thundering. ‘I was going to tell you all about it the moment you got home. I hoped you’d think it was good news that I was going to be your mama.’
‘I hate you!’
‘I thought you were fond of me, Mathew, and that we were good friends.’
‘Go away!’
‘It will be even better now,’ Kate persisted. ‘We will be a real family. You and me, and your Papa and… and… the new baby. A brother or sister, Mathew, just think of that!’
She could hear the hysterical note in her own voice and willed herself to stay calm. She wanted him to accept the situation. She knew she could never take his mother’s place, but neither did she want Mathew to resent her.
