Paradise Park

by Iris Gower

It was an hour later when Rhiannon climbed into her bed. Sal scrambled into hers and snuggled down under the blankets, head and all, trying to get warm. A moment or two later she peeped out. ‘Is Mrs Buchan going to take this Guy character for a lover, do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know, Sal. And now we’d best get some sleep. It’s going to be another long day of hard work tomorrow.’

  Rhiannon snuffed the candle and pulled the bedclothes up to her chin. A thin sliver of moonlight cut a pathway through the dark and she sighed, thinking of the nights she’d spent in the old ramshackle hut with Bull. Folk might think she was doing well for herself, housekeeper in a large establishment, but Rhiannon would have given it all up for a night alone with Bull Beynon.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘HOW FAR HAVE you got with my dear wife, Guy?’ Dafydd Buchan took a sip of the fine brandy served at Carrington’s gentlemen’s club and gazed at the other man. His friend had managed to charm Jayne, that much was obvious, but he seemed increasingly reluctant to talk about it. ‘Come on, man, has she said she’ll part with any of the shares?’

  ‘She offered me some the other day when I met her at the tea-rooms,’ Guy told him flatly.

  ‘And?’ Dafydd felt like hitting him: he was procrastinating deliberately. Was it possible he wanted the shares for himself? ‘Did you agree to take them?’

  ‘I thought it best to wait until she knew me better.’ Guy held up his glass and the waiter hurried to refill it.

  ‘Why wait at all?’ Dafydd asked. ‘Look, Guy, I hope you’re not playing me false.’

  A strange expression crossed Guy’s face. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. All the time I was with your wife Mrs Beynon was there to chaperone her. Does your wife always take her housekeeper out to tea? I would have thought one of the lesser maids would do just as well.’

  ‘Don’t change the subject.’ Dafydd was impatient. ‘I don’t mean to suggest you have designs on my wife but I’m wondering if you’ve an urge to buy into the Great Western yourself.’

  Guy relaxed visibly. ‘Good Lord, no!’ he said. ‘I haven’t the least interest in the Great Western. And if you’re worried about your wife’s reputation there is no need – we are never seen alone together in public.’ He paused. ‘I must say you have a very beautiful housekeeper, Dafydd. It’s a wonder your roving eye hasn’t lighted on her.’

  Dafydd smiled. So Guy, too, had noticed Rhiannon’s looks – but who could miss such sensuality and the knowledge of men that lurked in her eyes? ‘Oh, don’t worry, I have plans for sweet Rhiannon.’ Dafydd leaned back in his chair. ‘I thought I might amuse myself by taking her to my bed. She’d be a damned sight more satisfying than my dear wife ever was.’

  ‘You don’t really want to make a mistress of a mere servant?’ Guy asked. ‘In any case, you’d ruin the poor girl’s chance of making a good marriage.’

  Dafydd frowned. Guy didn’t know what Rhiannon had been before she came to work for Jayne. Perhaps he would keep the truth to himself for now. He wanted the first chance with Rhiannon: she’d be desperate for carnal love by now – she’d not been with a man for many a month. The thought excited him. ‘So, tell me, then, Guy, why is this plan taking so long to bear fruit? I thought you’d have the shares by now. Don’t tell me your powers of persuasion are waning?’

  ‘Be patient. I thought I’d play a waiting game to make sure of Jayne’s trust. If I seem too eager she’ll smell a rat. She’s an intelligent young woman.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right, but I wish you’d get on with it. I’m getting tired of waiting.’

  ‘Impatience is the way to failure. You hook your fish first and then you reel her in. Take things slowly, and you might well get what you want.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say but those shares are going up day by day. It galls me to think of Jayne and her precious father crowing over me because they’re in on it and I’m not.’

  ‘I’m doing my best,’ Guy said. ‘I know she likes me, but how much? Enough to trust me to do the best for her?’

  Dafydd held up his glass and a waiter appeared and refilled it with brandy. He scarcely acknowledged the man before he returned to his questioning. ‘How long do you think it will be before you have something to offer me? For heaven’s sake, man, move yourself!’

  Guy leaned back in his chair. ‘Hold on, Dafydd. Have you forgotten that I’m not getting anything out of this?’

  Dafydd was taken aback. He thought about it for a moment and came to a decison. ‘Look, I promised I’d buy the shares from you with a five per cent commission. Well, what if I make it ten?’

  He watched Guy’s expression become thoughtful. ‘Wouldn’t you be losing out on the deal then?’

  ‘Initially perhaps,’ Dafydd said, ‘but I have a gut feeling those shares will continue to rise in value.’ As soon as he spoke Dafydd wondered at the wisdom of revealing his thoughts to Guy. What if he bought all the shares from Jayne then went back to London?

  ‘Look,’ Guy leaned forward in his chair, ‘why don’t you send Jayne away somewhere, to a spa or something?’

  ‘What good would that do?’ Dafydd asked sharply. ‘You can hardly work on her if she’s away, can you?’

  ‘I could turn up at the same hotel. It would be a tremendous coincidence, of course, but these things happen – especially if the location is fashionable, say Brighton or Bath.’

  ‘What do you think that would achieve?’

  ‘I would have the time and the excuse to be with her a great deal. Tell her to take the delicious Rhiannon with her and then I could charm them both.’

  Dafydd digested the plan. It might just work. Of course, he would make sure Rhiannon didn’t go with Jayne: she could take young Sal. Apart from anything else, he needed Rhiannon to run the house for him. ‘You may have something there,’ he conceded. ‘I’ll suggest it, but I can’t guarantee that Jayne will go. She never does anything to please me.’

  ‘You have to be cunning,’ Guy said. ‘Tell her you want the house redecorated perhaps.’

  Dafydd didn’t like to think that Guy understood women better than he did. As far as he was concerned he had pleased all of his mistresses. ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘We’ll play it your way, but if you don’t succeed soon, we might as well give up on the plan and think of something else. Now, how about another brandy?’

  Bath was a beautiful place to be even now, with the trees bare of leaves and leaden clouds hanging low over the rooftops.

  ‘Oh, isn’t this lovely, Mrs Buchan?’ Sal said happily. ‘I’m so excited – I’ve never been away from Swansea before, not in all my life, and I’ve never stayed in a posh hotel like this one with silk sheets on the bed. I’m so glad you brought me and not Rhiannon.’

  Jayne looked out of the hotel window at the lovely sweep of houses across the road; Bath was a gracious place but also lonely. Yet this morning, when she had woken in the unfamiliar room, Jayne realized that all she was missing from home was Guy. She could do without Dafydd’s ill-humour and the tiresome visitors for whom she had to make a show of being happily married.

  ‘Shall I put out your clothes ready for supper, Mrs Buchan?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Jayne felt a little impatient with the girl: she was so young in many ways. She would have preferred Rhiannon to come with her but, as Dafydd had pointed out, the household would fall apart without Rhiannon in charge.

  There was a discreet knock on the door and Sal hurried to answer it. ‘It’s a letter, Mrs Buchan.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Jayne said. She took the envelope and opened it. Her heart missed a beat as she saw the signature. She sank onto the bed. Guy was downstairs in the foyer of the hotel and he wanted to see her.

  She folded the letter, resisting the urge to kiss the name penned at the bottom. ‘Help me tidy my hair, Sal,’ she said. ‘I’ve a visitor.’

  In the foyer Jayne paused. Would Guy be as anxious to see her as she was to see him?

  ‘Jayne, my dear.’ He was stand
ing in front of her, smiling. He took her hand and kissed it, and Jayne felt the urge to run her fingers through his soft dark hair.

  ‘Guy, dear Guy, I’ve been longing to see you.’ She held on to his hands, not wanting to break the moment of intimacy between them.

  ‘Come and sit down.’ He led her to a shadowy area of the huge foyer. ‘Sit next to me, let me be as close to you as I dare.’ He took her hands again and kissed them, his lips warm.

  Jayne’s heart was beating swiftly as she looked into his face. She felt like a girl again, in love for the first time. An ornate oil lamp cast a glow over the two of them and Jayne felt as if they were locked in a secret world together. She felt the heat of his thigh against hers and a thrill such as she had never experienced with Dafydd shot through her. She felt dizzy with desire for Guy, even though she knew they could never be man and wife.

  ‘Say something, Jayne. Are you pleased to see me?’

  ‘Of course I am – but, Guy, we have to be careful. We can never be more than friends in the eyes of the world, you know that.’

  ‘None of that matters. I never meant to fall in love with you but my heart sings whenever you come near me. I can’t go about my daily business without thoughts of you constantly in my mind.’

  She looked at him, at the earnest expression on his face, and in that moment she knew she couldn’t lie to him. ‘I love you, too, Guy,’ she whispered. She glanced round, as if fearful she might be overheard. Her face was flushed and her heart was fluttering like a frightened bird. She was sixteen again. The waiter hovered into sight and the dream faded.

  Guy ordered a brandy for himself and a cordial for Jayne. She leaned against him. Why hadn’t she met Guy first? She had been headstrong, rebelling against her father in marrying Dafydd. Now she was regretting it, and it was too late to do anything about it. ‘How long are you staying in Bath?’ she asked shakily. Guy shook his hair away from his brow and Jayne watched him, mesmerized by his charm and fine looks. Guy was all she could ever want in a man, thoughtful, caring and willing to laugh at himself, which Dafydd was incapable of doing.

  ‘I’m staying just as long as you are,’ Guy said. ‘I have no ties, Jayne, no wife, no family to answer to. I am my own man.’ He smiled. ‘Or I was before I met you.’

  ‘This is madness,’ Jayne said. ‘I should tell you to go away and leave me alone but I can’t. Surely it won’t do any harm for us to spend a little time together?’

  ‘Of course not, and I promise I will behave like a perfect gentleman, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘And what about Dafydd? Does he suspect you’ve come after me? It must seem strange, both of us being away at the same time.’

  Guy looked thoughtful and for a long moment he did not speak. Then he sighed and shook his head. ‘Jayne, I should tell you the truth.’ Then he stopped: the waiter was back with glasses and bottles on a tray. He took an interminably long time to pour the drinks, then dusted the table with the napkin he had over his arm. Jayne couldn’t wait for him to go away.

  At last they were alone again and she looked at Guy questioningly. ‘What were you going to say, Guy?’

  He shrugged. ‘Dafydd is too intent on his business interests to give much thought to the woman he is supposed to love and cherish.’

  Jayne knew instinctively that whatever Guy had been going to say he had changed his mind. Still, he was right: all Dafydd cared about was business and right now that meant getting his hands on shares in the Great Western Railway. Would he go so far as to ask Guy to try to persuade her to sell her shares? It was an awful thought, but Jayne was suddenly suspicious. ‘I know what Dafydd wants more than anything in the world,’ she said. ‘My shares in the railway. Should I give them to him, Guy?’

  Guy brushed a curl off her forehead. ‘Let’s forget about business and Dafydd. As for the shares, I have no interest in them but I’ve heard they’re a good investment so you should hold on to them. Now, let’s talk about something more interesting – you.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Jayne held back, still not sure of Guy’s motives. ‘I wouldn’t mind getting them off my hands. They’re more trouble than they’re worth. Why don’t you have them, Guy? I’ll sell at a fair price.’

  ‘I don’t want anything to do with any shares, Jayne, believe me. Can we forget the Great Western and think about ourselves? Let’s talk about tomorrow. Where would you like me to take you?’

  ‘I’ll let you decide.’ She tried to read his expression but he appeared honest and open. Was she being fooled? He was either being very clever or he genuinely had no interest in the shares.

  ‘We’ll have to take Sal along with us, of course,’ she said. ‘We must give no one the chance to gossip about us.’

  ‘As long as I’m with you I don’t care if a whole retinue of servants comes with us.’

  ‘That’s all right, then.’ She smiled. ‘I think I’m going to be happy while I’m in Bath.’ That was an understatement.

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ Guy said quietly, and his eyes were full of admiration.

  Sal glanced out of the window of the carriage and marvelled at how she’d come up from being a street-walker to hold the position of lady’s maid to one of the richest women in Swansea. She glanced down at her good boots and the long hem of her fine dress, and preened with delight. Here she was, Sal the orphan, riding in a warm carriage around Bath like a lady.

  Mrs Buchan was seated opposite her with the gentleman at her side. At first, Sal wondered if her mistress had taken a lover but there appeared to be nothing improper between them: Mrs Buchan went to her bed alone and Sal was witness to that. But they did care about each other, that was plain. Mrs Buchan was like a little girl with her head full of dreams. She was very pretty, Sal thought, and not the dragon she was rumoured to be. Mind, her husband was no better than he ought to be, but weren’t all men the same under the skin? Sal had lain with gentlemen and with navvies from the railway, and once they took their clothes off there was nothing to tell them apart. All of them had used her, grunting and groaning like pigs, none of them giving a damn about her feelings.

  She had vowed she would never marry because then she’d be the plaything of one man instead of many. Also, she would have to raise children and look after the house with no payment at the end of it. Sal did not believe in love – well, she hadn’t until now. Mrs Buchan’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes alight. She never looked like that when she was with her husband but Mr Buchan often raised his voice to her and chased other women shamelessly, even flirting in front of Mrs Buchan. How was it that women were supposed to be ‘respectable’ while men could be like dogs in the street, chasing after whoever took their fancy?

  ‘This is heaven, Jayne,’ Sal heard the gentleman whisper, as he leaned towards her mistress – so close that his lips were almost on hers. ‘I wish we could be together for ever.’

  Instead of being flattered by the attention Mrs Buchan took out a lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes with it. ‘I wish that, too, but let’s just enjoy these few days together. They will have to last us for the rest of our lives.’

  Sal swallowed hard. Poor Mrs Buchan, she would be faithful to the end. Her awful husband did not deserve her. Sal plucked up her courage to speak, risking Mrs Buchan’s anger. ‘Know what my mam used to say, Mrs Buchan?’ Sal did not wait for a reply. ‘She used to say life is ours for a very short time so we mustn’t waste a precious minute of it. She said we must grasp life with both hands and not miss our chances when they are put under our noses.’

  It was the gentleman who responded. ‘Well said, little girl,’ he smiled at her, ‘I think your mother was a wise woman. Don’t you agree, Jayne?’

  Jayne leaned across to pat Sal’s hand. ‘My life has already passed me by and it’s too late to change it.’

  There were tears in her eyes and Sal felt so sorry for her. ‘No, Mrs Buchan, while you have life and breath it’s never too late.’ She leaned back in her seat feeling that she had said enough, any more
would be regarded as familiar, but she hoped Mrs Buchan would snatch at any little bit of happiness that came her way. If that meant going to bed with a man not her husband then good luck to her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  RHIANNON COUNTED THE damask napkins, checked they were clean, and put them in the dining-room drawer ready for when dinner was served. It was a lovely, peaceful day of winter sunlight with the promise of spring in the air.

  The door opened and Mr Buchan came into the room. As usual, he was frowning. ‘I want everything to be in order for tonight,’ he said. ‘I’m expecting a special guest.’

  Rhiannon inclined her head. She’d heard of this ‘special guest’ from the maids’ gossip in the kitchen: it was Mrs Dunaway, a fast woman by all accounts who would sleep with any man she could get her hands on.

  ‘I can see by your face that you disapprove.’ Mr Buchan came closer and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I’m surprised at you, Rhiannon. After the life you’ve led I would expect a more liberal approach to the sins of the flesh.’

  ‘It’s not my place to approve or disapprove, sir.’ Rhiannon felt the master was too close for comfort but when she tried to move away he held her fast.

  ‘Would you deny me a little bit of comfort when I have a wife who doesn’t even share my bed when I request it?’

  ‘I’ve found that men will please themselves, sir, whatever the wife does or does not do.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I know your experience of men is endless.’ He pushed his leg between hers. ‘How about sharing a little bit of that passion with me, Rhiannon? I could be very good to you.’

  Rhiannon eased herself away from him. ‘I’ve given up that life, sir. I never liked being a whore and now I don’t have to be one.’

  ‘I could insist,’ Mr Buchan said, ‘but I would prefer it if you came to me of your own free will.’

  ‘That will never happen, Mr Buchan,’ Rhiannon said flatly. ‘Would you like me to do anything else to make your guest welcome, sir?’ She changed the subject adroitly, reminding him of the busy evening ahead, and Mr Buchan moved away from her.