by Iris Gower
When she was alone, Llinos put aside the glass and stared out into the night. It was now completely dark: the last of the light had vanished from the sky and the moon was obscured by cloud. Tomorrow it would probably rain.
She sighed and put her hands over her face, but however she tried to marshal her thoughts they came back to the same thing: she was expecting a child and she did not know who its father was.
Had she conceived on her one night with Joe? But surely it was more likely that she was carrying Dafydd’s child. Would she be glad or sorry if she was?
‘Oh, God, help me!’ she said, as hot, bitter tears welled in her eyes.
She scarcely slept. At her side Dafydd stirred a few times and she tried her best not to disturb him. She woke in the morning, heavy-eyed, and contrary to her expectations, the bright light of the sun was filtering between the curtains. It was going to be a beautiful day.
Llinos turned to look at the empty bed beside her, Dafydd had probably been up at first light: he was a strong young man, eager to get on with the business of the day.
She felt an overwhelming urge to talk to someone about the baby, but whom could she confide in? She had no close women friends, no confidante who would listen and keep her counsel.
By the time she went down to the dining room Dafydd was half-way through his meal. He held her chair for her and smiled; he seemed to have forgotten all about her fainting spell. She hoped he would not notice that much of her breakfast was pushed aside.
‘And what are you going to do with yourself today?’ he asked, as he put down his napkin.
‘I’ll have to go up to the pottery, collect a few more things,’ she said, attempting to appear as lighthearted as he was. She would need the larger clothes she had worn for her first pregnancy – it was wasteful to buy more. In any case, she could imagine the speculation if she were to have fittings for clothes suitable for an expectant mother.
‘I don’t like you going back there. Anything you need you can buy new, can’t you?’
‘Of course, my love, but there are drawings and other personal things that I want to bring here.’
‘I see.’ Dafydd looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps I should come with you, then.’
‘No, really, I’m not a silly child, Dafydd. I promise I won’t stay there a moment longer than necessary. Look, I’ll be home before you, you’ll see.’
‘If you’re sure.’ Dafydd took her in his arms and kissed her lingeringly. ‘And remember, whatever Joe says you are with me now.’
It was almost noon by the time Llinos felt ready to go out. Dafydd had alerted the groom, who was waiting with the coach and pair. Llinos climbed into the seat and arranged her skirts.
The carriage jerked into motion and Llinos stared up at the blue of the sky, wondering fearfully who was the father of her child: her husband or her lover? Her hands lingered wonderingly on her stomach. It was flat still, with no sign of her condition. She felt a sudden glow of happiness. Whatever happened, whoever proved to be the father, she was going to bring a new life into the world. Perhaps when they knew the truth neither of the men in her life would want her but if necessary she would bring up her child alone.
It was strange riding along Pottery Row. Doors were open, as always, and neighbours waved to her as she drove past. There was a catch in her throat. Was she leaving her home for ever?
Joe was sitting in the drawing room. He looked a little better than when she had seen him last, but he was still far too thin. There was no sign of her son.
Joe looked up at her. ‘Come in and make yourself comfortable. This is still your home.’
‘Where’s Lloyd?’ she asked, pulling off her gloves.
‘He’s gone riding with Jayne. He is taking every opportunity to get out of the house these days, upset by the friction between us.’
‘Then he must have been upset long ago, when you went to Sho Ka’s bed.’ Llinos heard the waspish tone in her voice with a feeling of sadness and shame. ‘I’m sorry, Joe. This is no time to be sniping at each other, is it?’
He stared at her long and hard. ‘Are you going to stay with him?’
‘You know I am.’
‘Llinos, don’t leave me, I’m begging you.’
‘I have to. Don’t ask the impossible.’ She left him with his head bowed and there was nothing she could say to comfort him.
In her room, she sank on to the freshly made bed. She had to stay with Dafydd: it was as if some invisible cord was drawing her to him. She could not explain her feelings when she did not understand them herself. Joe was wealthy: he could return to his luxurious house on the Marches if he wanted to.
She opened drawers and cupboards, pulling out the clothes she needed, then rang the bell for the maid. ‘Tell the coachman I’m ready to leave,’ she said briskly, aware that Flora was staring at her wide-eyed. ‘Go on, girl, don’t just stand there gawping!’
She closed her bag. She was eager to leave the house and its memories behind her. She looked out for a moment at the shimmering bottle kilns. Why was life so complicated? Why had Joe ruined their love, ruined the trust she once had in him because of what he called ‘his destiny’? She saw now it had been an excuse to justify his infidelity. What a fool she had been to believe his lies.
He tried to speak to her before she left, but she waved him away. She climbed into the coach. ‘Drive on,’ she said. As the wheels clattered on the drive, and the horses headed away from the pottery, Llinos stared straight ahead, leaving her home without a backward glance.
One day she would have to decide what to do with the pottery. She might sell up, or leave Watt to take care of things. If Watt was reconciled with Rosie they could live in the house in comfort, bring up children there. She thought briefly of her son. Would he live with his father from now on?
Llinos brushed her eyes impatiently. This emotion, the tearing apart of her spirit, was too much for her. She rested her hand on her stomach and tried to take in the reality of her situation. She was expecting a baby. What would happen if the child looked like Joe? Would Dafydd desert her?
She spanned her waist with her fingers, it was not as slim as it had been. She was feeling the urge to hold a new life in her arms again.
Part of the pain of Joe’s betrayal had been the child he had sired on his mistress when he thought his wife was barren. He had loved that child, and every time he sent money or wrote letters to America, it had been like a knife thrust in Llinos’s heart.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she let herself into the house she shared with Dafydd. She breathed in his scent; the aura of her young, vigorous lover permeated the house. Surely Dafydd’s child was growing within her. But did she want it to be Dafydd’s? That was the question she found impossible to answer.
Llinos was in the drawing room when she heard the front door open and the sound of voices in the hallway. She rose to her feet as Dafydd came into the room with Madame Isabelle and Shanni beside him.
‘Llinos!’ Dafydd took her into his arms. ‘My love, you kept your promise to be home before me. You still look pale, though. Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘I’m fine. I’ve just a bit of a headache, that’s all.’
Dafydd remembered he had company. ‘Come and make yourself comfortable, Isabelle – you too, Shanni.’ He kissed Llinos again and whispered in her ear, ‘Sorry about the visitors. I would much rather be alone with you.’ Aloud, he said, ‘I’d better check that the horses are stabled. I won’t be long.’
When he left the room, the three women sat in uncomfortable silence. It was Isabelle who spoke first. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling well, Mrs Mainwaring? You look rather peaky.’
‘I’m perfectly all right, really. How are the plans for the wedding going?’
‘Well enough,’ Isabelle said, ‘but I didn’t realize how much work was involved. I wanted a quiet affair but it seems that’s out of the question.’
Llinos wished they would go and leave her alone with Dafydd. She needed to ta
lk to him, to tell him about the baby. ‘I expect you have bought the material for your gown.’ She forced a note of enthusiasm into her voice.
‘As a matter of fact I could do with your opinion on that.’ Isabelle sat forward in her chair. ‘At my age, I feel white to be a little unsuitable. Do you think cream will serve as well? Shanni thinks I’m being silly, that I should wear white like any other bride.’
‘Cream would be beautiful with your colouring,’ Llinos said. ‘What does Eynon think?’
‘He doesn’t seem to mind what I wear. I think he wants the whole thing over and done with as quickly as possible, but all the arrangements seem to have run away with us.’
Shanni was taking a great interest in the conversation. ‘Do you know,’ she said, her voice smooth, cultured, ‘I always thought Mr Morton-Edwards was in love with you, Mrs Mainwaring?’ Shanni’s eyes were narrowed and Llinos felt as if she had been slapped in the face. ‘He seems to light up when he’s with you.’
‘We are old friends, nothing more.’ Llinos spoke more sharply than she intended. She felt Isabelle’s eyes on her.
‘Are you sure?’ Isabelle said softly.
Llinos met her gaze. ‘I can only speak for my own feelings.’ She glanced towards Shanni. ‘And you are both well aware of where my affections lie.’
‘He’s too young for you!’ Shanni said. Immediately her colour rose. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know I should be grateful for all you’ve done for me but I think you are behaving very badly.’
Llinos stared at the girl in astonishment. She knew Shanni disapproved of her relationship with Dafydd but how dare she speak out so rudely?
‘My own mother was dragged out of the house, out of her sick bed, as you well know.’ Shanni seemed unable to stop. ‘She was humiliated, beaten for what you are doing now. Is there no justice?’
‘That’s quite enough!’ Unnoticed, Dafydd had entered the room. He glared at Shanni. He was more angry than Llinos had ever seen him. ‘You are a guest in my house and you use insulting language to a lady who has shown you nothing but kindness.’ He stood in front of the fire. ‘I will have to ask you not to come here again. I’m sorry, but I have no other choice.’
‘Does that include me?’ Isabelle asked. ‘For Shanni is only saying what everyone else is thinking.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, Dafydd, but your attention has been anywhere but on the cause. You have neglected meetings, let us down when we expected you to be leader and I for one am concerned for your reputation.’
‘You should be concerned for your own, Isabelle,’ Dafydd retorted. ‘Your own behaviour hasn’t been impeccable, has it?’
‘Eynon is unmarried and, in any case, what I do is my own business,’ Isabelle said hotly.
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Dafydd said, ‘I’ll stop interfering in your private affairs if you’ll stop interfering in mine.’
‘Stop this!’ Llinos said, rising to her feet. ‘I never wanted any of this ill feeling. I have enough to worry about without listening to such petty spite, especially from you, Shanni.’
She crossed the room and, with her hand on the door, looked back at Isabelle. ‘I thought you were a woman of compassion but I was wrong. I regret ever bringing you into my house in the first place, you with your subversive talk.’
‘It is not subversive talk,’ Isabelle said. ‘I only want to speak up for people who have no voice.’
‘I don’t think Eynon would take too kindly to your views.’ She turned to Dafydd. ‘Perhaps I should leave you alone to sort things out with your guests.’
‘No, Llinos, we need to talk. In private.’ He looked pointedly at Isabelle.
‘Don’t trouble yourself about us, Dafydd. We were going anyway,’ Isabelle said. ‘We’ll leave you and Mrs Mainwaring well alone in future.’
Dafydd glared at her. ‘The bitterness of some women makes me fear for the future. You, Shanni, are simply a jealous little girl who needs to grow up, and, Isabelle, I thought you of all people would be more tolerant.’
‘Well, I’m not tolerant!’ Isabelle’s voice was raised. ‘I won’t stand aside and say nothing while you ruin your life, Dafydd. You can’t do this, give everything up for a married woman.’
‘Stop this, for pity’s sake!’ Llinos hurried from the room. Outside, the coachman was brushing down the horses. Llinos spoke quietly to him. ‘Please harness the horses again. I need to go out, to visit a friend of mine.’ She would go to Rosie. There was no-one else she could think of.
Her eyes were wet with tears as she sank back into the warm leather seat of the coach. Dafydd must be still quarrelling with Isabelle. And Shanni would be putting her spoke in the wheel too. How dare Shanni speak to her like that, as if she, Llinos, was little more than a cheap hussy?
She tried to think of some excuse to make to Rosie for her sudden appearance so late in the evening, but she need not have worried. When she arrived at the little cottage an hour later, she was greeted with a warm welcome and a cheerful fire.
‘Can I stay here tonight, Rosie?’ Llinos noticed a man’s coat hanging on the door. ‘I hope I’m not intruding.’
‘Of course not! You gave both my mam and me a job. You’ve always been kind to us. Please, come in and let me make you a hot drink.’
‘Can I just go to bed?’ Llinos asked tiredly. ‘I’ll explain everything to you in the morning.’
‘No need to explain anything to me,’ Rosie said. ‘Now let me stir up the fire in the bedroom and push a bottle into the bed just to make sure you don’t catch a chill.’
‘Thank you, Rosie,’ Llinos said. ‘I think you must be the only person in the whole of Swansea who still thinks of me as a friend.’
Then Llinos sank into one of the kitchen chairs and, laying her head on her arms, let the bitter tears flow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
‘YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE spoken to Llinos Mainwaring like that.’ Isabelle was angry with Shanni, but more angry with herself for joining in what she now saw as a spiteful attack on an unhappy woman.
‘I know, I’m sorry.’ Shanni was sitting up in bed, her long hair tied back from her face, her eyes shadowed. ‘I just got carried away.’
‘I know what it is. You’re jealous of her.’ Isabelle held up her hand to stop Shanni as she tried to speak. ‘No, don’t interrupt, listen and learn. Dafydd Buchan is a man, and you are a child. Dafydd could be taking advantage of your obvious hero worship, but he is too decent for that, and thank your lucky stars that he is.’
Shanni looked down at her hands, fumbling with the sheets, patting out imaginary creases. Her face was white. Isabelle felt sorry for her. She sat on the side of the bed, her anger vanishing.
‘Shanni, I know you think you’re in love with Dafydd but you’re not ready for the grown-up world. If you let a man take advantage of you, you’ll end up just like your mother, destitute and abused. Haven’t you learned your lesson from the past?’
‘My mother was taken by a wicked man!’ Shanni said defensively. ‘What happened to her will never happen to me.’
Isabelle saw that she was wasting her time talking: the girl would never learn except by her own mistakes. Still, it would not hurt her to listen to good advice sometimes. Shanni would have to learn tolerance but it would probably take some hard knocks to make her see that other people had apoint of viewtoo.
‘Put it this way, then, Shanni, if you are in love with Dafydd, can’t you see why Llinos would love him just as much as you do?’
‘But she’s a married woman!’ Shanni protested. ‘She has a husband and a son. Why can’t she be content with what she’s got?’
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ Isabelle was becoming irritated by Shanni’s attitude. ‘Llinos took you out of poverty and did her best to make a lady of you. From what I see before me she failed miserably.’
Isabelle left the bedroom before more angry words came tumbling from her lips. Shanni was still a child in many ways; she had a great deal of growing up to
do before she could reason as an adult.
When she returned to the parlour, she saw that the fire was burning low in the grate. She toyed with the idea of calling the maid to fetch more coal but it was late, time she went to bed.
However, she was not ready for bed. She sank into a chair and watched the embers fade and die. She told herself she should be thinking about her wedding day, not troubling herself over the ranting of a silly young girl.
When she did think of her wedding, her mind was teased with doubts. Was marriage what Eynon really wanted? Isabelle could not shake the feeling that she was only second best. Eynon had never really told her he loved her. He heaped compliments on her, promised to take care of her always. He could offer her money and position, but was that enough?
Isabelle’s mind was racing. She wanted a respectable marriage and any woman would be eager to have a man like Eynon Morton-Edwards as a husband. He was good-natured and wealthy but all of that meant nothing compared to the fact that she loved him.
When the last cinder fell and died in the grate, Isabelle got to her feet and glanced wearily at the clock. It really was time she went to bed because tomorrow she had some decisions to make about her life.
‘Llinos, did you sleep well?’ Rosie was stoking up the fire. The smell of bacon filled the kitchen and the kettle steamed cheerfully on the hob. Rosie stacked Watt’s plates and put them into a bowl, happy that he had gone to work early that morning so that she and Llinos could talk privately. Rosie didn’t think the time was right to tell Llinos that she and Watt were back together.
‘Sit down here. See? I’ve put a cushion there to make you comfortable.’ Poor Llinos, she looked so pale and weary and seemed a little unsteady as she groped for a chair. ‘What’s wrong? Are you ill?’ Rosie was concerned. When Llinos had arrived the night before in tears, Rosie had tucked her into bed, talked soothingly to her and made her feel that dealing with an unexpected visitor was no trouble at all. Llinos had looked ill then, but this morning she seemed worse.
