The Wild Seed

by Iris Gower

  ‘I am more than a little confused, Doctor. The last thing I remember was being attacked, trying to go for help and then I woke up in this house.’

  ‘As I said, you are confused.’ The doctor began running his hand expertly up her leg, testing for injuries.

  ‘You must realize, young woman, you can expect the occasional “incident” of this kind to happen, it’s the lot of common man; woman too, of course.’ He gave a glimmer of a smile.

  She looked at him. ‘I’m a farmer and of course accidents happen on a farm but not the sort of beating I got, that was no accident.’

  He stared at her trying to assess the truth of her words. ‘Do you not have a husband with a hasty temper?’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ Catherine said shortly.

  He became businesslike. ‘That’s what I was told. Well it’s none of my business, I’m just a doctor, not a priest, I’m not interested in your private life, my dear.’

  She looked at him in despair. ‘Please, Doctor, I don’t know what you have been told, or what you believe of me but can’t you help me to get back to my home?’

  Before he could reply the woman had returned to the room, her gimlet eyes fixed on Catherine.

  ‘I hope you ain’t takin’ no mind of this trollop’s hard-luck stories, Doctor,’ she said, handing him a few strips of rag.

  ‘This may hurt a little.’ He ignored the woman and spoke gently to Catherine; as he bound the clean strips of rag around her ankle his hands were deft.

  ‘I think you have been very lucky,’ he said. ‘The injury to your ankle could have been worse, you could easily have sustained a broken bone.’ He looked at the bandage in satisfaction.

  ‘Now let us look at these ribs, shall we?’ He lifted her gown and though she shrunk from him, she allowed him to take off the bolster and to press her ribs experimentally. ‘Hmm, should be all right in a week or two, then you’ll be ready to go … well, wherever you wish. For the moment I think it would be foolish to move you.’

  Before Catherine could speak he was being ushered out of the room by the tall, austere woman whose headscarf flapped about her ears like a gaggle of agitated sea birds.

  Catherine heard the lock turn and knew she was a prisoner again, though she did not understand why. Tired, she fell back against the pillows. She could not make any sense of what the doctor had said, it was almost as though he believed she belonged in the mean house where she lay. But she was too tired to think it all out just now. She closed her eyes and as the tablet the doctor had given her began to take effect, she slept.

  The farm looked desolate as Bethan, in riding habit, strode about the place, her eyes taking in every detail of the obvious neglect and decay that made the farm appear long abandoned. There was no sign of any animals except for the sheep which roamed in the fields sweeping down from Honey’s Farm and a few thin hens scratching in the stunted grass at the verge of the yard.

  ‘I should get this place for next to nothing.’ She glanced at Tom who was stepping gingerly through the mud, careful of his highly polished shoes. ‘I told you to put on a pair of old boots but would you listen to me, would you hell!’

  ‘Bethan, it is not seemly for a woman to swear. What would your dear father say?’

  ‘Oh, Uncle Tom, you are stupid, disapproving of my manners when we both know that we are accomplices in an abduction.’

  Tom looked alarmed. ‘No-one could trace what’s happened back to us, could they?’

  Bethan shook her head. ‘You are such an innocent, Uncle Tom, the girl has been kept locked in a hovel against her will. If pressed, this man Jacob would talk his head off. Had any of us really meant to help her we would have taken her to the nearest hospital.’

  ‘I suppose you are right,’ he sighed. ‘I don’t know how we are going to get out of this mess.’

  ‘We’ll think about that once I have bought the farm,’ Bethan said, reassuringly. ‘Just don’t you worry about it now.’

  She lifted her head, her shoulders tense. ‘I can hear the beat of hooves, perhaps this is the Irishman nosing around again.’

  Tom was suddenly pale and Bethan touched his arm. ‘Keep calm, let me do the talking, no need for any of us to panic, is there?’

  The rider came into view and, as the flying hooves lifted the turf and the large stallion covered the ground, Bethan drew a ragged breath, waves of pain and shock washing through her.

  ‘Boyo!’ She trembled as he came towards her, pulling at the animal’s reins and her heart turned over as he smiled down at her.

  He slid from the saddle and stood close to her, his eyes looking down at her held an expression of concern. He was as handsome as ever, his face rosy with the coldness of the breeze, his hair ruffled over his forehead. She still loved him, there was no denying it.

  ‘Bethan, what are you doing here?’

  She longed to reach out to him, to touch his cheek and kiss his dear mouth.

  ‘I had to come, I needed to know where you were, I wondered if you were living up here with her,’ she lied smoothly. ‘But it looks as if the place is deserted.’

  ‘That’s very strange, I can’t believe Catherine would neglect the farm. What about the animals?’

  She realized then that the concern in her husband’s face had not been for her but for the O’Conner slut. ‘The stock have all gone,’ Bethan said tightly. ‘There is no sign of the milking cows or anything other than the sheep roaming the hills.’

  ‘But where can Catherine be? I’m worried about her.’ Boyo said and Bethan was suddenly coldly angry with him. Had he no sensitivity? Here he was, calmly discussing the disappearance of his paramour with his wife, as though she had no feelings at all.

  ‘Oh, I think I know where she’s gone,’ Bethan said quickly. ‘It appears some sort of kinsman came over from Ireland looking for her, he has probably taken her away with him. I understand he is a very handsome young man.’

  ‘I don’t think Catherine or Liam Cullen would abandon Honey’s Farm,’ Boyo said firmly. ‘It has been in the family for such a long time that Catherine would not leave here unless she was forced into it. Perhaps I should go over to Ireland myself, see what I can find out.’

  Stung, Bethan resisted the urge to goad Boyo further. ‘That might be a very good idea.’ She forced herself to speak evenly. ‘It would certainly do no harm.’ It would also give her the chance to study the affairs of the farm and to sort out what she should do with Catherine O’Conner; the girl was becoming more of a liability with every passing day.

  She became aware that Boyo was looking at her strangely. ‘You wouldn’t know anything about her disappearance, would you?’ he asked, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  ‘Why should I know anything about the silly girl?’ Bethan said, her head raised in challenge.

  ‘I wonder what really brought you here, perhaps this place is up for sale, I wouldn’t be surprised, the state it’s in. Not interested in the farm yourself are you by any chance?’

  ‘Are you mad? This run-down place, I wouldn’t be so foolish. You forget, I was a businesswoman when you were still in baby clothes. No Boyo, it was to see if you were here. I have not heard from you for some time and believe it or not, I was worried about you.’

  ‘I see.’ Boyo looked out across the fields. ‘I’m sorry, I should have let you know I was all right.’

  With a feeling of relief, Bethan saw that he had accepted her story. As his eyes swept over Honey’s Farm, Bethan felt she could read him well; he was considering putting in a bid for the place himself. Well, the bank was holding the deeds against the huge debts the O’Conner girl owed them. The weasel of a manager was in her power, a little matter of some misplaced funds at one time, over which she had not made too much of a fuss. She had reckoned, rightly, that the man’s gratitude might prove useful at some later date.

  ‘Come along, Uncle Tom,’ she said taking the old man’s arm, ‘I think we have stayed here too long, I see my husband is fine and does not need my concern.
Let’s go home, you are looking tired.’

  She paused to glance at this man, this handsome stranger who was so much out of her reach, her husband. Her face softened. ‘Perhaps you will come home with us, Boyo? My father is not at all well, I’m sure he would be happy to see you. After all, he still thinks of you as his son-in-law.’ This was far from the case but it suited Bethan to pretend otherwise.

  Boyo seemed to struggle with his reply and when he spoke, his voice was guarded. ‘I don’t really think it would be a good idea, Bethan.’

  ‘Please. Uncle Tom and I could do with company on the way home, the nights are drawing in so early now aren’t they? Makes me quite nervous to be on the road.’

  He considered her words and then nodded. ‘I’ll follow your carriage.’

  When she was seated in the creaking leather seat, she saw her uncle glance at her in exasperation. ‘Why do you encourage that man?’ he asked flatly.

  ‘You forget, Uncle, that man, as you call him, is my husband.’

  ‘Your estranged husband who seems to care more about the whereabouts of his strumpet than he does about you. Don’t you see what he is up to?’

  ‘I don’t believe he can be up to anything, after all, I asked him to accompany us back to the house.’

  ‘Well, I think he wants to look round the place, to find out if you have the girl hidden there. He is suspicious of you, my dear. Be careful your emotions do not override your good sense.’

  She regarded her uncle carefully, could he be right? Was Boyo so cunning, so devious? Well, she would watch him, she would soon learn his real reason for going with her to Ty Craig.

  ‘Perhaps you had better get back to your own house, you appear tired,’ she said abruptly. ‘I’ll have the carriage take you there as soon as we reach Ty Craig. In the meantime you’d better think of a way of getting that girl off your hands.’

  ‘Off my hands? But you said …’ Tom’s voice faltered for a moment as he looked at her in dismay. He was obviously choosing his words carefully. ‘I had hoped you would come up with a solution to the problem, my dear.’

  ‘Just keep her hidden for a while, leave her in that hovel until I get my hands on the farm and then you can have your men take her miles from here and dump her. By the time she makes her way back to Swansea she won’t know what has happened to her.’

  ‘Very well, perhaps that is the best way out of this mess. She could hardly find Jacob’s place again, not unless she knew where to look.’

  He paused, ‘How long will it take you to complete the purchase of the farm do you think?’

  ‘I’ll buy as soon as I can possibly arrange it, I’ll let you know. It can’t be soon enough for me.’

  Bethan was relieved when the carriage drew to a halt at the arched door of the house. She kissed her uncle and waved as the carriage rolled away along the drive. Taking a deep breath, she turned and smiled up at Boyo who had reined his horse alongside the doorway.

  ‘I’ll get a groom to see to the animal,’ she said as the butler opened the door. ‘Come along in, I’m sure you could do with something to eat and perhaps a nice strong glass of porter.’

  She gestured to one of the maids to help Boyo off with his riding boots. ‘See that they are polished at once.’ Then, taking his arm, she led him through to the sitting-room where a cheerful fire burned in the large, ornate grate.

  She felt his arm against her breast and hugged it closer. How she longed to throw herself into Boyo’s embrace, to cling to him, beg him to come back to her. She almost spoke her thoughts out loud but then he extricated himself and took a seat near the fire.

  ‘It’s very cold in here, Bethan, perhaps the servants allowed the fire to go out and then rebuilt it before you returned.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ She did not tell him that Ty Craig was always cold; even when the sun shone into the garden the house remained in shadow. ‘We will have some refreshment and then you can see father.’ She smiled but she was watching his face carefully.

  ‘Will you really go to Ireland to look for this girl?’ She could not help but question him even though she knew his reply would probably hurt her.

  ‘If she’s not here in Swansea, then yes, I will go to Ireland.’

  They talked about other matters over a tea of light sandwiches and small cakes and Bethan saw that he drank little of the fine wine she had served him. He was looking about him as though his eyes could see through the ceilings into the floors above.

  ‘Would you like to see the improvements I’ve made to the house while I’ve been staying with Daddy?’ she asked innocently. Boyo’s gaze rested on her and there was a question in his eyes.

  ‘Very much.’ His reply was wary but she sensed the curiosity in his response.

  ‘Then please, help yourself. Perhaps you would care to explore alone, I have some instructions to give to the servants. I have a guest for dinner this evening, a very important guest.’

  He rose at once and she was disappointed that her hint concerning her guest fell on stony ground. She frowned, her thoughts bitter, he did not care if she entertained a regiment of men and took each and every one of them to her bed.

  She watched him look into the ground-floor rooms and then make his way upstairs. Well, he would find nothing, his harlot was safely locked in a room far away from here. A glow of warmth filled her at the thought. What a pity the girl had not lost her memory, traumas sometimes had that effect. If that had happened, the girl could have remained where she was indefinitely and would probably have been used by the beast, Jacob. Such a fate would serve her right. The bitch had slept with Boyo without a qualm of conscience and doubtless she’d been intimate with this Irishman too. Living with a boor and a bully would be what her kind deserved.

  Bethan found herself smiling at the thought of what Catherine’s fate might be. Suddenly, for just a moment, she was appalled, wondering what was happening to her. Had she always been so vindictive and cruel? But no, none of this was her fault, it was the betrayal of her love that had made Bethan so bitter. After all she had been to Boyo he had turned to that strumpet with no breeding and no brains and had put her before his own wife.

  Bethan went upstairs and looked into her father’s room, he was asleep, his face turned into the pillow. Bethan was relieved, she did not feel up to coping with his ill humour should he learn that her husband was in the house.

  Boyo returned after a time and stood before the fire, shivering a little. ‘This is an odd house,’ he said, ‘it gives you the feeling of being watched.’

  Bethan looked up at him, so he felt it too. ‘Nonsense!’ she said briskly. ‘It’s a very ordinary house.’

  Boyo appeared not to have heard her. ‘I suppose it’s because there’s no view, no outlook, nothing but the towering hills rising above the house.’

  ‘Well, you do not have to live here, do you, so please do not criticize my family home.’

  ‘I’m sorry, it was rude of me.’ He frowned. ‘How many cellars are there here?’

  ‘Three; they are filled with discarded furniture and stores of wine. You can examine them, if you like, but if you have satisfied yourself that I am not hiding your little paramour in chains somewhere under my roof perhaps you’d better leave.’

  She could see by the expression on his face that her barb had found its mark. He did not protest his innocence and somehow that only angered her more.

  ‘Well, that’s what you thought, isn’t it?’ she demanded. ‘You imagined I had a hand in this girl’s departure from Honey’s Farm, you might as well admit it.’

  He looked down at her as though she was a stranger. ‘You are remarkably interested in the farm,’ he said, ‘that in itself is suspicious.’

  ‘Oh, Boyo,’ deftly Bethan changed tack, ‘if only you could see how empty my life is without you.’ The words were spoken before she could think clearly but for once she knew she spoke the truth.

  She began to cry, much to her own astonishment. After a moment’s hesitation, Boyo took her in hi
s arms and held her, smoothing her hair.

  ‘I never meant to hurt you so badly, Bethan,’ he said softly. ‘I believed ours was a marriage of mutual respect and liking and perhaps of a little love. I never thought you would be so hurt when I…’ his voice trailed away.

  She looked up at him, her defences down. ‘I know, Boyo, I thought our marriage was mainly one of convenience at first. But I grew to love you and to need you and now my life is empty without you.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ He kissed the top of her head and in that moment Bethan was tempted to tell him everything: how she’d had Catherine watched, how everything had gone wrong and how, in the end, Tom had called in a doctor to care for the girl. Surely Boyo would understand that none of this was Bethan’s fault. She even opened her mouth to speak but then he released her, moving away from her, his shoulders bent, his eyes unwilling to meet hers.

  ‘I love Catherine, God help me, I love her more than life itself. I can’t help it, Bethan, I just can’t help it.’

  She drew herself up to her full height and forced back the tears. ‘Go your own way to hell then and that slut with you.’ She turned her back on him and did not look round even when she heard the door close quietly behind him.

  She remained frozen for some minutes, hearing his voice in the hall as he asked the maid for his boots and she flinched as the outer door slammed.

  The beat of horse’s hooves on the gravel outside seemed to echo within her and she sank down onto the carpet before the fire, trying to warm herself at the flames. But she was alone now, alone in a house with a sick old man, alone in a house that did not welcome her, where the ghosts of the past inhabited the rooms. She crashed her fist against the marble hearth.

  ‘Catherine O’Conner, I could kill you!’ Her words rang out harshly and Bethan almost believed she heard the sound of ghostly laughter echoing around her in the gloomy emptiness of the room.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘Why are you keeping me locked up when all I want is to go home?’ Catherine was sitting in a chair beneath the high window, her foot resting on a stool. The raw-boned woman who brought her food looked at her without expression.