by Iris Gower
When Rhiannon came into the room she wore an expression of surprise. It was not often that she was called on to have dealings with the master of the house. ‘Yes, sir?’ She dipped in a graceful curtsy. ‘Sal said you wanted to see me.’
‘That’s right, Rhiannon.’ He studied her: she looked ladylike in her good clothes, with the keys of the house hanging at her waist. The silky material of her gown did little to conceal the generous thrust of her breasts. She put up her hand to her throat, evidently noting his scrutiny. He smiled. ‘I’ve had a chat with little Sal and she seems happy here. How about you, Rhiannon? Any complaints?’
‘None, sir,’ Rhiannon said gravely. ‘I’m very happy with the job Mrs Buchan has seen fit to trust me with.’
‘I can see that a rise from whoredom to housekeeper is quite a leap, but don’t you miss your old way of life sometimes?’
‘I don’t even like to think about it now, sir,’ Rhiannon said, and there was a sharpness in her tone that he did not miss. ‘It was a dreadful way of life, and I’m glad it’s all in my past now.’
Dafydd knew he was being rebuked, and deservedly so. ‘And your mistress, Mrs Buchan, does she treat you well?’
He saw her face soften a little and realized she was fond of Jayne too. It was going to be more difficult than he had thought to seduce her.
‘Oh, yes, sir. Mrs Buchan treats me very well – I can never repay her for what she’s done for me.’
‘And what is that, exactly? A good bed to sleep in, food to put in your stomach and clothes to put on your back, is that worth giving up your life of variety and enjoyment for?’
‘Most emphatically so, sir. What I appreciate more than anything is that Mrs Buchan has given me back my self-respect.’
He could see she would need careful handling: this girl was intelligent as well as beautiful.
‘May I go now, sir?’ She stood still, her large eyes assessing him with age-old wisdom.
‘Yes, of course you may. I don’t want to keep you from your duties.’ He watched as she walked gracefully to the door, her head high. In spite of his attempts to humble her she had kept her dignity.
‘One more thing, Rhiannon,’ he said easily. ‘Mr Fairchild and Mrs Buchan are good friends, are they not?’
She gave him a bleak look. ‘I wouldn’t know anything about that, Mr Buchan. I suggest you ask Madam yourself.’
Dafydd smiled. She had guts all right. She was also loyal to Jayne, and that would be the biggest hurdle to overcome if he wanted the girl in his bed. Still, Dafydd Buchan had never been frightened of taking up a challenge and this was one to which he was positively looking forward.
CHAPTER NINE
LLINOS SHIVERED, FEELING the cold even though all the fires in the house were blazing. The chill of autumn was in the air, and before she knew it Christmas would be upon her. She would be spending it alone.
She picked up the letter from Sion, her younger son, who was away at school. He wanted to stay with a friend over the holidays and Llinos could not blame him. The pottery house was quiet these days, and even though the kilns outside sent waves of heat into the leaden sky and apprentices called cheerily to each other in the yard there was an emptiness in the old house that Llinos could not fill. It was at times like this that she missed Joe most: her husband had been loving, full of arcane wisdom learned during his childhood with the American Indians and she had loved him deeply.
She stood at the window and looked out at the gathering gloom. On an impulse, she rang for the maid. She would have her carriage brought round and visit Eynon – he never minded her arriving unannounced.
As she left the house, a chill wind whipped around her ankles. She climbed into the carriage and hugged her collar close to her face. She hoped that Eynon would be at home: she needed warmth and company, and in that moment she knew that if he asked her again to marry him she might be tempted to say yes.
As she’d expected, Eynon welcomed her warmly. ‘Come in, Llinos. Father Martin’s here and he’ll be glad to see you too.’ He hugged her and she clung to him. ‘But not half as glad as I am,’ he added softly.
‘Thank you for putting up with me, Eynon. I know it’s not polite to arrive on your doorstep like this.’
‘Nonsense! You are my dearest friend and my house is open to you at any time of the day or night.’
Father Martin was seated before the fire, his legs spread apart, his lap full of apple peelings. He looked up at her apologetically. ‘Forgive me if I don’t get up, Llinos, but I don’t want to make a mess on Eynon’s good carpet.’
Llinos kissed his round cheek.
Eynon led her to the armchair at the other side of the huge fireplace and held her hand as she sat down. The room was cheerful and comfortable; the marble mantelpiece gleamed and the logs burning in the grate sent out a pleasant aroma. ‘I’ll get you a hot toddy, Llinos,’ Eynon said. ‘You look frozen.’
A silver jug of hot water and a bowl of sugar stood on the table. Eynon mixed brandy, sugar and water in a glass and stirred it vigorously. Llinos felt cosseted as he handed it to her then kissed her hair. She was warmed by Eynon’s love for her but could she marry him? Her life would be changed dramatically and for ever: she would have to move from her home for a start, and she’d lived there as a child and as a woman. The house had seen the birth of her two sons, Lloyd and Sion. It was there that her dear Joe had breathed his last. The house held a thousand memories, some good, some less so. Perhaps it would be no bad thing to leave it all behind, and there was always her dear friend and partner Watt Bevan to look after the china factory. He had been with her for many years and knew the business as well as she did.
‘Have you heard any gossip about Jayne, Llinos?’ Eynon’s voice broke into her thoughts.
‘Gossip?’
‘Well, there’s been talk because she’s employed girls of dubious character but now people are saying she’s seeing too much of this London chap, Guy Fairchild. I’m worried it will get out of hand.’
‘I’ve heard nothing untoward. Surely you don’t think there’s anything to worry about? Jayne is such a stickler for convention.’
‘I’m worried about her. I know she’s not happy with Buchan. It was the biggest mistake of her life when she married the man. I did warn her but she wouldn’t listen to a word I said.’
‘Eynon, I’m the wrong one to talk to about this.’ Llinos stared at him, her brow furrowed. ‘I bore Dafydd a son so I can hardly say a word against him.’
‘Will you at least concede that he has changed?’ Eynon was determined to pursue the subject. ‘He has become tight-fisted and grasping, and all he thinks of is getting his hands on Great Western shares.’
‘Do you think that Dafydd is treating Jayne badly, then?’ Llinos asked. ‘If so, she is more than a match for him, believe me.’
Eynon nodded. ‘I know you’re right, but the marriage is a sham. They don’t sleep together so they will never have children and I will never be a grandfather.’ He paused. ‘Now there’s a story going around that Jayne and this London man are lovers.’
‘Oh, I don’t believe that for a minute,’ Llinos said, ‘and you know what the townsfolk are like. Soon they will get tired of picking on Jayne and find another poor soul to gossip about.’
‘Well, I hope you’re right. I don’t like to see Jayne so unhappy with Buchan, but for all that I can’t see her allowing herself to be taken in by this man, who might be after her fortune for all we know.’
Father Martin coughed, reminding them of his presence. ‘For goodness’ sake, stop fussing about what Jayne might or might not do. She’s her own woman, and she’ll please herself whatever you say or do.’
‘Quite right,’ Eynon said. ‘Now, who’s for another drink?’
Jayne sat in the tearooms of the Mackworth Hotel and smiled across the table at Guy. As she was concerned about appearances she’d brought Rhiannon with her. The girl was sitting with her hands folded in her lap and her head high as if she was use
d to grand company. She would fit into any society, Jayne thought. She was beautiful too – so beautiful that she had hesitated to bring her along as chaperone, but she needn’t have worried: Guy’s attention was firmly fixed on herself.
‘So, Jayne,’ Guy let his hand brush hers as he reached for the sugar, ‘are your shares still rising?’
Jayne knew that this inconsequential talk was for Rhiannon’s benefit: had they been alone, Guy would have been telling her how much he admired her, and how she was wasted on Dafydd Buchan.
‘Will you excuse me for just a moment?’ Rhiannon said quietly. ‘I need to go to the ladies’ room.’
Rhiannon spoke very well, Jayne realized, with some surprise – she was not like a girl from the streets.
‘That’s all right, Rhiannon. Take your time,’ Jayne said, lifting her eyebrow meaningfully. She could count on Rhiannon to be tactful enough to leave them alone for a little while. Rhiannon saw more than anyone gave her credit for.
‘Jayne,’ Guy said urgently when Rhiannon had gone, ‘I wish I could take you away from here.’
Jayne felt as if the room was suddenly full of flowers, of birds singing sweetly and angel harps playing golden music. She shouldn’t listen to Guy’s words, wonderful though they made her feel: she was a married woman and nothing would ever change that. ‘Guy, I feel the same about you but it’s impossible, you know it is.’ She felt his hand reach for hers beneath the table and as her fingers curled in his a warmth ran through her. ‘What a pity I didn’t meet you before I married Dafydd,’ she murmured.
‘Say you’ll meet me alone, Jayne. I can’t bear to sit so near you and not take you into my arms.’
‘But, Guy, how could we arrange that? It would be impossible.’
‘Maybe not,’ Guy said. ‘Dafydd is going away for a few days on business, isn’t he?’
‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it,’ Jayne said tersely, ‘but, then, Dafydd and I stopped talking to each other a long time ago.’
‘You could take a trip – into the country, perhaps, to see a sick aunt. Make any excuse and I will book us into a coaching inn as man and wife.’
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Jayne said. ‘I’m not brave enough to flout convention like that.’
‘No one need ever know,’ Guy coaxed. ‘Please, Jayne, how can I live my life if I’m never to possess you?’
‘But it’s so dangerous, Guy. What if I did come away with you and I conceived a child? Dafydd would know right away it wasn’t his – and so would half of Swansea.’
‘That would never happen, Jayne. I can’t have children.’ Guy squeezed her hand. ‘I have had three mistresses and one wife, whom I lost to the cholera, and none of them conceived my child. Please, Jayne, I have never felt like this about any of the other women in my life. By day you are in my thoughts, and by night you torment my dreams. I’ll die if I can’t have you.’
‘But would a few days together be enough for us, Guy?’ Jayne asked. ‘It would be like offering a child a sweet then snatching it away. No, I can’t do it, it’s impossible.’
‘Don’t say that. Just tell me you’ll think about it – please, Jayne, I’m begging you.’
Jayne saw Rhiannon threading her way back through the tables towards her. ‘I’ll think about it. Now, change the subject, please.’
Rhiannon seated herself at the table and Jayne looked at Guy. ‘We were talking about the shares, Guy, do you wish to acquire some for yourself?’
‘I wouldn’t mind a few, just for the fun of seeing them rise.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t need to bother with them, though. I’ve enough irons in the fire in London.’
‘I could give you a few of my shares if you were really keen.’ Jayne felt she’d give him the world, if it would please him.
‘Don’t even think about it. You have a good investment there and you should keep it.’
‘No, really, Guy, I would like you to have some. We’d be able to compare notes on how they performed.’
‘We’ll see.’ Guy smiled. ‘Now, I hope you ladies will forgive me but I must go. I have a meeting to attend.’
Jayne got to her feet at once. ‘It’s time I was getting back too. The nights are so cold and dark at this time of year.’ She felt a great sense of disappointment: she could have stayed and talked with Guy all night but he was a businessman and had work to do. She was lucky that he had spared as much time for her as he had.
As she sat in the carriage on the way home Jayne’s thoughts were on Guy; if he took some of her shares she would have a good excuse to meet him and they would have an interest in common.
‘What do you make of him, Rhiannon? Mr Fairchild, I mean.’ Somehow Jayne wanted to know what Rhiannon thought – the girl must be a good judge of men.
‘I think he’s a very clever man,’ Rhiannon said. ‘He’s handsome, too. He’s keen on business and ruthless where his finances are concerned.’
‘Are you saying you don’t trust him?’ Jayne forced herself to speak calmly: she mustn’t let anyone know how she felt about Guy.
‘I’m not saying that,’ Rhiannon said quickly, ‘and to be fair to him he is very taken with you.’
Jayne felt a thrill at Rhiannon’s words. ‘Do you really think so?’
‘I know it’s not my place to say so but I think he’s falling in love with you. Take that business about your shares.’
‘What about them?’
‘I realize that these railway shares are very much in demand, yet when you offered to let him have some he advised you to keep them for yourself.’
‘Yes, he did, didn’t he?’ Jayne subsided in her seat and closed her eyes. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts, to consider the possibility that Guy might be in love with her. Surely a woman like Rhiannon, who had known so many men, would see through a mere flatterer?
Guy – in love with her! It was a wonderful dream. She sighed happily, and made plans to see him again soon.
‘You’re doing well, girl.’ Mrs Jones was seated at the table, her plump hands idle for once. ‘I never thought when you came here that you’d go up in the world quite so soon but chwarae teg, fair play, we’ve never run out of anything since you took over as housekeeper.’
Rhiannon smiled. ‘Nice of you to say so, Mrs Jones. I take my duties very seriously. You never know where all this training will lead.’
‘And what about me?’ Sal was perched on a chair, her bare feet swinging inches above the slate floor. Now that she had shoes, she couldn’t wait to get them off her feet. ‘I’m doing well, too!’
‘You are, cariad,’ Mrs Jones said indulgently, ‘and you should be glad the mistress don’t care much for menservants or you wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the dining-table.’
Sal glowed. ‘I like being here. It beats walking the streets and waiting for a customer to come along, especially on these cold dark nights.’
Mrs Jones tutted. ‘Don’t speak of that, Sal. You’re a respectable girl now and you should behave like one.’
‘Well, I do,’ Sal said quickly, ‘but I can’t forget what happened to me in the past, can I?’
‘You must forget it if you mean to get on, girl.’ The cook tapped Sal’s arm. ‘Now, pour us some of that tea before it gets cold – and get your shoes on. You look like a street urchin.’
Reluctantly, Sal slipped them on. ‘All right. Cook, I’ll keep my shoes on just to please you.’ She reached for the teapot and filled the cups.
‘So, Rhiannon,’ the cook said, ‘what went on this afternoon with Madam? Why did she take you to town with her? Buying new clothes, was she?’
‘She had some business to attend to and then she took me for tea in the Mackworth Hotel. Really posh it was.’
Mrs Jones, as Rhiannon had expected, was distracted by the idea of her sitting in an elegant hotel drinking tea like the gentry.
‘What was it like? Come on, tell us everything about it.’ Mrs Jones put her plump elbows on the table and supported her several chins in her hands.
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‘Well, the carpet was so thick you couldn’t hear your footsteps at all,’ Rhiannon said. ‘And the china, well, it was almost as good as the china the mistress has us bring out for her guests.’
‘And who else was there?’ Mrs Jones asked. ‘Did you see anybody important?’
‘I wouldn’t know who was important,’ Rhiannon said. ‘I just sat still and let the others talk.’ As soon as the words were out she knew she’d made a mistake.
‘Others? What others?’ Mrs Jones asked, a frown furrowing her brow. ‘You didn’t mention there were other people with Madam.’
‘Oh, that gentleman, Mr Fairchild,’ she said vaguely. ‘He only stopped to pay his respects and then the mistress and I came home.’
‘I knew he was sweet on her,’ Mrs Jones said. ‘I can’t understand why Mr Buchan doesn’t say something. You’d almost think he was throwing the pair of them together. He must be cooking something up or he would be playing merry hell at his wife being seen in public with another man.’
‘But it was only for a few minutes and I was there,’ Rhiannon said. ‘No one could talk about a public meeting like that, could they?’
The cook shook her head. ‘I don’t know about that. The Mackworth was where Mr Buchan used to take Mrs Mainwaring and we all know how that turned out.’
‘I don’t,’ Sal said. ‘What happened?’
Mrs Jones glanced over her shoulder but the other maids were in the scullery out of earshot. ‘Well, she had a child by him, a by-blow.’
‘Oh, so the gentry aren’t much better than the likes of me, are they?’ Sal said. ‘What did her husband think about it?’
Mrs Jones shrugged. ‘Well, seems he’d been straying after another woman so I suppose it was tit for tat. Anyway, he put up with it and was good to the boy into the bargain.’
‘Where’s the kid now?’ Sal asked.
‘At some posh school, so I heard.’ The cook struggled to her feet. ‘Right, let’s get things ready for the morning and then we can all go to bed. Vi and Hetty can damp down the fires and set them ready for tomorrow.’
