by Iris Gower
The sound of Seth’s scream as the train ran over his foot would remain with Bull until the day he died. The man struggled in his arms but Bull held him firm. The train came to a shuddering standstill a few hundred yards up the track.
Bull looked at Seth’s mangled leg: the bone was protruding through the flesh, the foot severed. Bull wrapped his scarf around the exposed bone. He could not save Seth’s leg but he might save his life.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LLINOS WAS SITTING in the conservatory reading a letter from Eynon. Yet again he was talking about marriage. Llinos loved Eynon, but could she make him a good wife?
She looked out of the window, not seeing the familiar bottle kilns that dominated the skyline, not even aware of the apprentices who shouted and laughed in the yard. Her life had been lived in the shadow of the potteries; she had been responsible for many of the designs on the quality wares but now perhaps she had no energy to keep the pottery fresh and alive? Watt Bevan would keep it flourishing and might bring in fresh ideas once she left him to make the decisions. He deserved to have a free hand, and it was about time she gave it to him.
She turned her back on the sight of her life’s work, and in that one gesture, she knew Eynon had won. She would marry him and live out the remainder of her life in comfort, with the one man whose love for her had never wavered.
Rhiannon looked at the constable, knowing from the hard look in his eyes that he would spare her no sympathy.
‘I didn’t steal the jewels, you’ve got to believe me.’ But even as the words left her lips, she knew they would make no impression on the man standing before her.
The young policeman with him was more sympathetic. ‘You say that Mrs Buchan left you a letter, can you show it to us?’
Rhiannon rummaged once again through the spilled contents of her bag and shook her head. ‘It’s not here.’ She looked up at Mr Buchan beseechingly. ‘You must have seen it, sir, it was with the jewels.’
‘I saw no such thing,’ Dafydd Buchan said calmly, but his look told her that had she been more co-operative and gone to his bed she wouldn’t be in this position now.
‘Well, sir, we’ll have to put her in the cells.’ The hard-faced constable smiled thinly. ‘And what about this young ’un here?’ He gestured towards Sal. ‘Is she guilty as well?’
‘I’ve got no proof that the girl was in this with the so-called housekeeper,’ Mr Buchan said, ‘so you’d better take just the thief.’
‘No!’ Sal cried out. ‘I saw the letter! I know Rhiannon didn’t steal them things. Mrs Buchan wanted her to have them.’
Ignoring her, the constable caught Rhiannon by the arm. ‘Come on, no nonsense now.’
Rhiannon nodded. ‘Can I just say goodbye to Sal properly? I’ve looked after her for so long she seems like a little sister to me.’
‘Aye, no harm in that.’ It was the younger policeman who spoke. ‘Go on, then, but don’t make a meal of it.’
Rhiannon hugged Sal close and whispered in her ear, ‘Find the letter, Sal, it’s my only hope.’
‘That’s enough.’ Her arm was grasped none too gently and Rhiannon allowed herself to be led from the house and into the waiting cab. She stared back at Sal, at the faces of Mrs Jones, Violet and Hetty, staring through the windows, and a lump rose in her throat. She was leaving behind the chance to be respectable. Now she was going to be a common gaolbird. She wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t lower her dignity.
She was thrust into a carriage where she sat down and leaned back against the hard wooden seat. She closed her eyes, hearing the clip-clop of the horses’ hoofs taking her to prison. She wished Mrs Buchan had never left her the jewels, then none of this would have happened.
The face of the prison was grim: it stared out across the Mumbles Road as if to challenge the sea itself as it rolled towards the shore. A sailing ship waited for the tide to take her out of the bay, the tall masts reminding Rhiannon of crosses in a graveyard. This was the last of the bay she would see for some time.
She was thrust unceremoniously into a room with no windows and bars over the door but at least she was on her own. She had expected to be pushed in with a crowd of cut-throats and thieves, all of whom would be flea-ridden and covered in sores.
‘How long will I have to stay in here?’ she asked, but the guard didn’t bother to reply. He just slammed the door and walked away whistling.
The room was small, almost a cupboard. A wooden bench stood at one end and, even as she watched, a cockroach scuttled across its planks and began to climb up the wall. She had lived in some awful places but none had been as dark and desolate as this cell.
She stood near the door for a long time, hoping someone would come to fetch her, but at last she sank down on the bench knowing that she was inside the gaol at least for the night and perhaps for the rest of her life.
Tears burned her eyes but Rhiannon rubbed them away angrily. She would not cry – hadn’t she learned yet that crying did no good? She lay down on the bench and curled her feet under her skirts for warmth. She must be prepared to wait. Sal would find the letter and, if necessary, steal it back from Mr Buchan. Then she would be set free.
Jayne sat up in bed and stared around her at the unfamiliar room. She’d come to St Anne’s Hotel because she’d been there with Guy yet the empty room she occupied brought her no comfort.
A sliver of moonlight crept in through the open curtains. This was her second night away from home and Dafydd, but she still hadn’t made up her mind what she was going to do. Should she go to Guy and ask him if he wanted her, or should she go home to her father?
She curled up, hugging the pillow to her, feeling lonely and wishing she’d brought Rhiannon with her or even Sal. She had hated leaving them at the mercy of her husband’s anger. When he learned she’d run away the girls would be the first he would pick on. Still, they would be all right, even if Dafydd dismissed them both: the jewels she’d given Rhiannon would see them through, at least for a while.
It was a long time before Jayne fell asleep again. When she woke it was barely dawn, with a thin blue light and shadows stretching along the floor. The candles had burned out and the fire was mostly ashes, with a glowing ember here and there. Jayne sat up and looked ruefully at her crumpled dress. She hadn’t even bothered to undress – all she’d done was kick off her leather boots.
She heard a light rap on the door and sighed with relief: one of the maids had come to see to the fire and to bring her breakfast.
‘Come in,’ she called, her voice still hoarse from sleep. The door opened and Jayne felt her breath catch in her throat. ‘Guy!’ He came into the room and closed the door behind him. He stood there for a long time just looking at her. ‘Oh, Guy, your poor face!’ She got up, went to him and touched the weals on his cheeks. ‘My poor darling, you suffered all this for me!’ Then she clung to him, and as his hands gently stroked her tangled hair, she realized she must look terrible, her eyes red and swollen with weeping.
‘My little girl, thank God I’ve found you.’ He held her close. ‘I went up to the house when Buchan was out and questioned Sal, the little maid. She told me what had happened. I hoped and prayed that I’d find you here.’
‘Oh, Guy, have I done the right thing? Everyone in Swansea will know by now that I’ve run away from my husband. I won’t be able to face anyone ever again, not even my father.’
‘My darling, you’ve done the right thing – what does anyone or anything matter so long as we’re together?’
‘You’re right.’ Jayne rested her face against his neck, breathing in the scent of the man she loved. She knew she had to be with him, whatever it cost her. ‘What are we going to do, Guy?’ she asked. ‘No one will want to speak to us, we’ll be outcasts.’
‘I don’t care,’ he said, ‘just so long as I have you.’ He hugged her close and kissed her eyelids, then her lips.
Jayne felt suddenly as though she had been roused from a long sleep. Dafydd had been the nightmare and now sh
e was with her dream, the man she could love for all eternity – surely that couldn’t be so wrong?
‘We’ll go back to Wales, perhaps to Cardiff,’ Guy said. ‘We can say we’re married, no one will know any different.’
‘Are you sure, Guy? Folk have a way of finding out every little secret and I wouldn’t want to disgrace you.’
‘No one will find out,’ he said, ‘and, Jayne, I wouldn’t care if they did.’ He kissed her again, then drew away from her. ‘I’ll book us seats on the mail coach for this afternoon.’
‘Guy, you will come back, won’t you?’
‘Of course I’ll come back. My life wouldn’t be worth living without you.’ He stood at the door for a long time, simply looking at her. ‘Jayne, I love you with every breath in my body. Just remember that, won’t you?’ And then he was gone.
Jayne rang the bell for the maid, rubbing the tears from her eyes and feeling lost and alone. For a brief moment she’d felt safe with Guy’s arms around her.
The maid tapped on the door and opened it. ‘I’ve come to build up the fire, miss, by your leave.’ She bobbed a quick curtsy then bent down before the grate, poking sticks into the embers. Jayne guessed the girl had seen Guy come up to her room and doubtless had watched his departure too. Now her reputation would be in tatters: it just wasn’t ladylike to entertain a man alone in her bedroom in the early hours of the morning.
Still, what did it matter? Whatever the maid thought would not change the situation. Jayne sighed. It was about time she washed and dressed in fresh clothing. By the time Guy returned she would be looking more like her old self.
Jayne was just tying up her hair when the door burst open. Startled, she looked round, her hand to her throat, as her husband stormed into the room. ‘Dafydd, what are you doing here? How did you find me?’
He caught her arm roughly and dragged her to her feet. ‘It wasn’t difficult. Fairchild left a trail a mile wide.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He was up at the house questioning the maids. Did he think I wouldn’t learn about it?’ He shook Jayne so hard that her hair fell down again. ‘The fool didn’t realize I was having him followed.’
He dragged her towards the door. ‘Come along, we’re going home. I’m not going to be the laughing-stock of Swansea – the man whose wife ran off with his friend. You will play the faithful wife even if I have to kill you to do it.’
‘No, Dafydd, I’m finished with you. I’ll never live with you again and, whatever you say, you can’t keep me prisoner for ever.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ He pulled open the door and hustled her out on to the landing.
‘Wait,’ Jayne said desperately. ‘I can’t go without paying my bill.’
‘It’s already settled. Come on – and be quiet, or it will be the worse for you.’ He smiled thinly. ‘You won’t get away from me, and I’ll make sure that Guy Fairchild gets such a lesson in manners that he’ll never come sniffing around you again. And it won’t be a whip I’ll use on him but a shotgun.’
‘No, Dafydd, don’t hurt him. It was all my fault, I asked Guy to take me away. If anyone’s to blame I am.’
‘Very touching, I’m sure. Now, do I have to carry you out of here?’ He marched her down the stairs and Jayne bit her lip, trying to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks.
It seemed as if all of the hotel staff were in the foyer, as well as some of the guests. One of the porters sniggered as Dafydd dragged Jayne towards the door. ‘That’ll teach the flighty madam to play fast and loose,’ he said gleefully.
Jayne’s colour was high and her heart was thumping so loudly that she wondered if everyone could hear it. She prayed that Guy would not come back to the hotel until she and Dafydd were well out of sight. What might happen if the two men met didn’t bear thinking about.
Dafydd took his horse’s reins from the groom and pushed Jayne into the saddle. He swung up behind her and clicked his tongue, urging the animal into a gallop.
Jayne closed her eyes against the wind. She wanted to scream and cry that this was all wrong, that she belonged with Guy, that they were meant to be going away together but now Dafydd was ruining everything.
Several times, through the long, difficult journey, Jayne thought she would be unseated as Dafydd urged the horse faster. By now her eyes were streaming and she didn’t know or care if it was the wind causing the tears or the terrible pain in her chest.
By the time they reached home Jayne was numb with cold and her clothes clung wetly against her legs as she slid down from the saddle. Dafydd dragged her into the house, pushed her upstairs and thrust her into one of the bedrooms. ‘Undress,’ he snapped, and when she stared at him, uncomprehending, he began to tear at her buttons.
‘Are you going to rape me again, Dafydd?’
‘Just shut up and get your clothes off!’
He tore at the fine material of her bodice but Jayne stood her ground. ‘I am not getting undressed.’
‘Yes, you are. Now either you undress yourself or I’ll call the servants to hold you down while I take your clothes off for you.’
Jayne saw that there was no way out. Dafydd was more than capable of carrying out his threat. With shaking hands she took off her clothes until she stood in nothing but her chemise. She watched as Dafydd took the clothes to the door and threw them out on to the landing. He slammed the door, then came back to her and snatched her wrist.
‘If you mean to force me then get on with it,’ Jayne said.
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Dafydd said. ‘I don’t need you, Jayne.’
‘What about sons?’ Jayne knew she was on dangerous ground but she couldn’t resist the taunt.
‘I have a son,’ he said stiffly, ‘or have you forgotten that?’
‘If you mean the brat you fathered on Llinos Mainwaring then, no, I haven’t forgotten, but the child is illegitimate or is that something you’ve forgotten?’
The slap came so abruptly that the shock forced Jayne back on to the bed. She put her hand to her cheek, blinking rapidly with the sudden pain of the blow.
‘Are you not aware that I can make a will leaving everything to Sion Mainwaring?’ Dafydd said, his face pale with anger.
‘And will you recognize the boy publicly, then?’ Jayne said, her voice rising.
‘That is precisely what I intend to do. I’ll proclaim it to the world, if need be.’ He smiled maliciously. ‘Though I’m sure most of the people in Swansea realized long ago that I am the boy’s father.’
Jayne felt weary of it all. She wanted to lie down on the bed and close her eyes. ‘I don’t care a jot about you or your money,’ she said quietly. ‘You can go to hell, for all I care.’
Dafydd caught her wrists and closed his hands over them so tightly that she flinched. ‘Now, madam, that’s enough from you. Get this into your head: you’ll not see Fairchild ever again, do you understand?’
‘And you understand this,’ she said quietly. ‘The time I shared with Guy was the best and happiest time of my life.’
Dafydd slapped her face again, harder this time, and she stared up at him, her eyes blazing. ‘You hit me once more and I swear I’ll do you harm, even if I have to wait until you’re asleep to do it. And don’t think I’ll go to your bed again. Now that I’ve tasted real love I won’t make do with second best.’
He pushed her away from him. ‘You fool!’ he said. ‘I told you I put Guy up to it. He was supposed to get your shares out of you and he very nearly succeeded. You can’t still believe the man loves you?’
‘That is exactly what I do believe,’ Jayne said coldly.
‘Where is he now then?’ Dafydd’s voice seemed to penetrate her brain. ‘Why has he not followed us? Because he saw you as a burden and a responsibility.’ He paced about the room. ‘Oh, a woman can be amusing for a while, just so long as she’s another man’s wife, but it’s a different kettle of fish when she wants to be with you for ever. Suddenly the game isn’t so enticing.’
&
nbsp; He faced her. ‘Guy wanted no more of you. He’d tasted the fruit and found it wanting. As for you coming to my bed, I wouldn’t want you now. You’re soiled goods, my lady.’
His words hurt her like stones. She tried to hang on to the thought that Guy loved her, but her confidence in him was shaken. Still, she wouldn’t allow Dafydd to see how she felt.
‘Perhaps you’ll have the decency to leave me alone now. I’ve had enough of you and your bullying ways, Dafydd, and I’ll run away from here the minute I get the opportunity. You can’t watch me all the time, can you?’
‘No, but I can lock you in your room when I leave the house,’ Dafydd said triumphantly. ‘And without your friend Rhiannon to help you, you’ll stay where I put you.’
‘I thought you might blame Rhiannon but she had nothing to do with any of this.’
‘Too bad, because she is behind bars, where she belongs. I’ve employed a steward to look after the affairs of the household and I’ll make sure he watches your every move.’
‘What do you mean Rhiannon’s behind bars? What are you talking about?’
‘You shouldn’t have been so foolish and sentimental as to give her the jewels. I claimed she’d stolen them and the constable, of course, believed me.’
‘How could you sink so low, Dafydd?’ Jayne said. ‘That girl never did you any harm.’
‘Well, forget Rhiannon and think of yourself. You’ll be just as much a prisoner as she is.’
‘What about my father? Do you think he’ll put up with you treating me so badly?’
‘Your father will mind his own business.’ Dafydd said. ‘No one has the right to interfere between husband and wife.’
‘You call yourself a husband? A man who has to imprison his wife to keep her is no man at all.’
Dafydd shook his head. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ He strode towards the door and, with his hand on the latch, he turned to look at her. ‘Why I ever married you I don’t know. All you’ve brought me is misery.’
