by Iris Gower
One of Dafydd’s men laughed crudely, and Jayne felt the colour rush into her face. But she remained silent. She knew that Dafydd was trying to rile her. Well, it would take more than a few lies to turn her away from Guy this time. Now she knew that Guy loved her for herself, not for anything she could give him.
She took a deep breath. ‘Look, Dafydd, if I gave you my railway shares, would you let me go?’
‘I might, but then again I might not.’ He smiled without warmth. ‘I don’t quite know what I’m going to do with you yet. I might send you to a convent or have you certified insane.’
Jayne drew a ragged breath, knowing he was capable of anything. If a husband swore that a faithless wife had lost her senses his word would be respected.
‘Ah, I see the truth is dawning on you. If I have you certified I shall have all your money as well as the railway shares. It’s a tempting prospect, Jayne.’
‘Dafydd, you couldn’t do that – my father wouldn’t allow it.’
‘Your father carries some weight in Swansea, I’ll grant you that, but what if I take you to my home town, have you declared insane and committed to an institution in Carmarthen or Llanelli?’
‘You don’t think my father would stand by meekly while you did all that, do you? You underestimate the scope of his influence and I’d advise you to think carefully before you do anything so drastic.’
‘Oh, I have thought carefully, Jayne, my dear.’ Dafydd stared at her for a long moment in silence. ‘However, if you give me a legitimate heir perhaps then I’ll let you run away with your lover.’
‘Never!’ Jayne said fiercely. ‘I’ll never go to your bed again, Dafydd, not willingly. Of course, you could force me again but I would bide my time until I could find a way to be rid of you permanently.’
‘So you would stoop to murder, would you?’
Jayne studied this man who was her husband. Would she be able to kill him in cold blood? She doubted it, but who knew what would happen if she were forced to share Dafydd’s bed again?
‘Are you going to answer me?’
‘Dafydd, I don’t know what I’d do if you pushed me too far. All I do know is that everything is over between you and me. I don’t love you, it’s probable that I never loved you, and I would rather die than be subject to you.’
Jayne fell silent and stared through the carriage window. As the streets of Swansea sped by she saw that Dafydd was not taking her to his Swansea home, he was heading west towards Carmarthen. It was there that he had fought a battle against the rise in the toll charges; there that her father’s wife Isabella had been killed beneath the hoofs of a horse. And in Carmarthen there was a big building that housed the insane, the House of Bedlam, people called it. Jayne shivered. Dafydd might just be prepared to carry out his threats.
She looked at this man, a stranger, her husband. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping, but she knew that if she moved he would be wide awake in an instant. She must keep calm, think carefully and plan her escape. Dafydd would not stay at home all day every day: he had a business to run.
It seemed an eternity before the carriage jolted to a halt outside a tall grey stone building that was unfamiliar to Jayne. Dafydd opened his eyes and sat up. ‘Welcome to my latest acquisition, my dear wife,’ he said. ‘I bought this place especially for you, Jayne. Did you think my appearance at your father’s wedding was a coincidence? Well, if you did you were wrong. I knew your father would be occupied with the beautiful Llinos – indeed, he would be so eager to get his wife home that he would forget the existence of his daughter or anyone else for that matter.’
Dafydd alighted from the carriage and grasped Jayne’s arm as she came down the steps. He gestured to the two men and they bundled her unceremoniously into the house. ‘You can go now,’ Dafydd said, and the men disappeared.
The room Dafydd had chosen for her was at the top of the house. It was so spartan that Jayne knew it must be among the servants’ quarters.
‘I’m to sleep here?’ she asked, her eyebrows raised. ‘Well, even sleeping in servants’ quarters is preferable to sleeping with you.’
‘For heaven’s sake, do think of something different to say.’
‘If I tell you enough times that I will not be intimate with you perhaps it will sink into your head.’
‘That’s enough!’ he said sternly. ‘I have no intention of being insulted by you.’ He looked at her disdainfully. ‘You’re no better than a whore, no better than the servant Rhiannon, or that poor child Sal. Indeed, you are worse because those girls chose to shake off their sordid past and became decent citizens.’
‘Well, if I’m such a bad lot why bring me here? What on earth do you hope to gain from all this?’
‘I might not gain anything but the satisfaction of parting you from your lover,’ Dafydd said harshly. ‘But at least I know you’ll not be lying with him tonight or any other night, if I have my way.’
He moved to the door. ‘I’ll say goodbye for now, Jayne, and I do hope you’ll soon settle into your new surroundings.’
‘Am I not even allowed food or to wash and change my clothes?’ Jayne demanded.
‘You’ll stay in your wedding finery for now. It will be a bitter reminder of all you have left behind.’
He left the room, closed the door, and she heard the key turn in the lock. She sank onto the bed and put her hands over her eyes. She was a prisoner, and what could she do about it? She had no friendly servants to help her now. Would she be condemned to spend the rest of her life in this room in this ugly house, far away from all that she loved?
Jayne longed to cry but the tears seemed stuck in her throat. She tried to think calmly, reasonably. Surely Dafydd must let her out of the room some time, if only to allow her the benefit of some fresh air. But, then, Dafydd had no intention of being kind to her in any way – he had made that abundantly clear.
Jayne kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed, conscious that outside the small window of the room was the big wide world filled with love and laughter, and she was no longer allowed to have any part in it.
She closed her eyes as, at last, the tears came. She felt so helpless. ‘Oh, Guy, will I ever see you again?’ she whispered, but there was only the silence of the empty room to answer her.
‘Well, my lovely bride, we’ve had a wonderful day and our honeymoon is just beginning but I think it’s high time we retired to our beds, don’t you?’ Eynon smiled at her and Llinos, absurdly, felt her colour rise.
‘What – blushing, Llinos?’ Eynon put his finger under her chin and tilted her face upwards. After a moment, he kissed her and Llinos put her arms around him. They stood locked in an embrace for some time before she moved away.
‘Right, then, husband, bed it is.’ She held his hand, as he led the way up the curving staircase towards the huge suite of rooms he’d booked for them in the hotel on the beach. Outside the window, she could see the intermittent glow from the lighthouse stretching fingers of gold across the sea.
Eynon stood behind her and drew her back towards him. ‘It’s a beautiful night, my love.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Llinos, I’ve dreamed of this so many times, you coming here as my bride. I can hardly believe that this is real.’
‘It’s real,’ Llinos said softly. ‘We’re man and wife, Eynon. You might even be sorry you married me when you see how ill-humoured I am in the mornings.’
‘I’ll never be sorry, Llinos. The only thing that makes me sorry is that this didn’t happen years ago when we were young.’
She turned to face him and cupped his cheeks in her hands. ‘Let’s not wait any longer, Eynon. Make me your wife in every way, and then we shall sleep and wake up in the morning wrapped in each other’s arms.’
‘I should call the maid to help you undress but I think that tonight I shall take charge of that myself.’
He began to open the hooks and eyes at the back of her dress and as his warm hands brushed her neck Llinos felt a great sense of tenderness
towards him.
She helped him to undress her and, shy of her nakedness, slipped between the cool sheets on the large bed. Eynon cast aside his own clothes and then he was in bed beside her. His arms reached towards her and she prayed she would not disappoint him.
Gently, he lifted her hair and kissed her neck. His mouth was warm and he was breathing hard, so aroused he could hardly contain himself, yet he took his time, careful not to hurt her. ‘You are so beautiful, Llinos.’ He leaned on his elbow and looked down at her, and the lamplight was kind, bathing her in a rosy glow that took away any signs where age had left its mark.
At last, he drew her to him. ‘I’m going to make us one flesh, my darling,’ he whispered, his breath hot against her cheek. And then he came to her and she gasped with happiness as he moved her to his rhythm. Their passion united them, they were together locked in each other’s arms, possessing each other with a joy that Llinos had thought was gone for ever. And when it was over she kissed him and whispered, ‘At last I have come home.’
Dafydd stood before her, his arms folded across his chest, a set look on his face. ‘Guy has the temerity to come here after you,’ he said sharply. ‘He won’t believe you don’t want him unless you tell him yourself, Jayne.’
Jayne stared at her husband in bewilderment. ‘What makes you think I’ll do that? I love Guy and I want to be with him.’
Dafydd reached in his pocket and took out a small pistol. ‘You’d better persuade him that you want to give your marriage a second chance or I will have to shoot him – in self-defence, of course.’
Jayne felt the colour leave her face. ‘Dafydd, you wouldn’t.’
‘Believe me, Jayne, I would, and Guy Fairchild wouldn’t be the first man I’ve killed.’
Jayne stared at this man who was her husband. ‘I never knew you at all, did I, Dafydd?’
‘Don’t be so melodramatic! Do you think I went through the riots, burning down gates, storming the workhouse, without killing anyone?’
Jayne realized he meant every word he said. She stared up at him fearfully. ‘When is Guy coming?’
Dafydd looked at his watch. ‘Any moment now. That’s why I’ve brought you new clothing and that’s why I’ve allowed you into the sitting room so that you can say goodbye to him for ever.’
The doorbell rang through the house and Jayne swallowed hard. She would have to make Guy believe her. She would have to convince him that she wanted to stay with Dafydd – or watch him die.
When he came into the room and stood before her, his eyes warm and loving as they rested on her, Jayne felt as though she was going to plunge a dagger into his heart. She looked away from him, afraid that her courage would fail her.
‘I think my wife has something to say to you, Fairchild.’ Dafydd’s voice had a hard edge to it and his hand was in his pocket – with the pistol, no doubt.
‘Guy, I’m sorry but I’ve decided to stay with Dafydd, to give my marriage a second chance.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Guy said at once. ‘He’s making you say this, isn’t he, Jayne?’
She licked her dry lips and forced a note of determination into her voice. ‘I mean it, Guy. I can’t break my father’s heart by running away with you and leaving him to face the shame of it.’
He came and stood close to her. ‘Jayne, would you be saying these things if your husband wasn’t standing there looking like the Day of Judgement?’
Jayne wanted to throw herself into his arms, to beg him to take her away with him but, from the corner of her eye, she saw Dafydd inch the gun out of his pocket.
‘Guy,’ she said, ‘I don’t want you. I intend to stay here with my husband. Now, will you please leave me in peace?’
Guy turned on his heel and marched to the door without saying another word. She heard the front door slam behind him and then she collapsed into a chair. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this, Dafydd. I’ll hate you all the days of my life. Is that what you wanted?’
‘I wanted you to turn that man away so that you can live your life under my roof as a wife should. Now, get back upstairs before I lose my temper with you.’
Jayne walked slowly away from her husband and climbed the stairs as though her feet were cased in lead. She felt as though there was nothing to live for any more. She went into her room and closed the door. It no longer mattered that she was to be locked in her room. There was no life for her any more, not without Guy, because anywhere she lived would be a prison now that Guy believed she no longer loved him. Dafydd Buchan, I hate you!
She sank onto the bed and sat there, staring ahead of her, seeing nothing but the pain in Guy’s face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
‘I CAN’T GET anywhere with Buchan.’ Eynon was rubbing his eyes tiredly. ‘He has refused to see me.’ He threw down a letter he was holding. ‘And this, from Jayne, claims she is living with Buchan willingly. It just doesn’t ring true.’ He thumped his fist on the table. ‘He’s forced her to write this, I know he has.’
Llinos took him in her arms. ‘Don’t be so angry, Eynon. We’ll find a way to bring Jayne home, you’ll see. Dafydd can’t be so heartless as to keep her imprisoned in that awful house for long.’ Even as she said the words she knew that Dafydd had become selfish and arrogant, and was quite capable of keeping Jayne a prisoner for as long as it suited him.
‘Well, I can’t just sit and wait for him to let her go. I must do something to help.’
‘What if I went to see him?’ Llinos kissed Eynon’s cheek. ‘He might talk to me.’
‘I don’t want you going anywhere near that man,’ Eynon said fiercely. ‘I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him.’
‘But, Eynon, if it would help Jayne surely it’s worth a try? And don’t worry about me – I’m well over my infatuation with him now.’
‘I know that, but I don’t like to think of you going anywhere near that scoundrel.’
‘He’ll see me, I’m sure, and at least I can find out if Jayne’s all right.’
‘Maybe you’re right – but you would need to take someone with you. I can’t have you going there alone.’
‘That’s something we can arrange,’ Llinos said thoughtfully, ‘and I can try to make Dafydd see sense.’
‘All right, but don’t make it a long visit. Ask to see Jayne so that you can confirm she is well.’ He shrugged. ‘As to her frame of mind, I can only guess at how unhappy she must be.’
‘I’ll go tomorrow. I won’t warn him that I’m coming – I think it’s best to take him by surprise.’
Eynon touched her cheek. ‘You’re sure it won’t be too upsetting for you?’
‘Believe me, anything I once felt for Dafydd died a long time ago. Now all I see when I look at him is a man who must have his own way whatever anyone feels or thinks.’
Llinos sat in a chair near the window and stared out at the pewter grey sea below her. White water lashed up against the rocks. It was a gloomy day, full of wind and rain, and reflected Llinos’s feelings. The prospect of trying to persuade Dafydd to let Jayne go was not one she relished. But it had to be done and, in all truth, she was the best person to do it.
The first guest to inhabit a room at the Paradise Park was a Mr Summers. He was young and vigorous, with dark hair and flashing eyes, the type some women might find attractive. To Rhiannon, though, he was simply a sign that the enterprise was going to succeed, that the Paradise Park was on its way to being a thriving business.
‘I think Mr Summers intends to stay here every time he visits Swansea.’ Mrs Paisley was sitting in Rhiannon’s room, toasting her feet beside the fire. ‘More of his kind is what we need.’
‘Well, this is where your famous word-of-mouth will come in handy,’ Rhiannon said, ‘and where my idea of advertising is reaping rewards.’ She held up a letter. ‘This is from a Mr Clements. He’s a chemist thinking of setting up a practice in the area and he’s bringing his family with him this afternoon. As he has four children, that’s several more rooms to b
e occupied. Soon we’ll be looking at a full hotel. You’ll see, Mrs Paisley, before long we’ll be making a good living for ourselves.’
‘Just as well there’ll be some money coming in because there’s a devil of a lot going out,’ Mrs Paisley said drily.
‘We needed to advertise our hotel, though, you can see that now, can’t you?’ Rhiannon asked anxiously, and was relieved when Mrs Paisley nodded.
‘Aye, it had to be done, girl. You go on now and see to the paperwork because I’m going to have a nap.’ She smiled wickedly. ‘All this making a go of things has tired me.’
When Mrs Paisley had left the room Rhiannon stood at the window, looking at the busy street outside, where traders cried their wares in raucous tones. This was the town she had become used to: in her days as a whore she had walked the length of it, the back-streets as well as the main streets where elegant shops opened their doors to the rich and influential. Well, perhaps soon she would be rich herself, although she could never be influential. The gentry would never allow a whore into their closed circle.
She glanced along the street and her heartbeat quickened: Bull was walking past the Paradise Park, his head bent as he listened to his companion, a man several inches shorter than he was. Rhiannon watched him hungrily, drinking in the dark crispness of his hair beneath his hat and remembering how many times she had run her fingers through it as they made love.
Bull glanced up in her direction and their eyes met. After a moment, he raised his hat to her, and then he was gone from her sight, lost in the mêlée of the busy roadway.
Mentally, Rhiannon shook herself. There was work to be done: she needed to bring the books up to date, send out letters to people enquiring about rooms. ‘Standing here staring into the street won’t get the work done,’ she said aloud.
A knock on the door startled her. ‘Come in.’
‘Oh, Rhiannon, cariad, I don’t want to disturb you but I’ve got to know how many folk want dinner tonight.’
‘Mrs Jones, come in and sit down. Now, let me see, there’ll be Mr Clements and his family, Mr Summers and, of course, Mrs Paisley. I’ll eat with you and Sal in the kitchen.’ Mrs Jones frowned, and Rhiannon hid a smile. ‘I’ll dine with the guests when I’m more used to things, but for now Mrs Paisley will do the honours. Tell me what sort of menu you’re planning for tonight.’
