Arian

by Iris Gower

  Calvin felt restless. He was a man without direction and he recognized himself as such with a dart of dismay. Money he had aplenty but he needed more than that. He needed an interest in life, a goal, an ambition but one that would not, ever again, involve him falling in love with any woman.

  He would eventually need a suitable wife, one who would play the hostess, provide him with heirs and one who would do his bidding without question, but that was something he would think about later on, when his wounds had begun to heal, perhaps.

  Calvin suddenly felt the need for a drink of ale. He almost ached for the company of fellow men, and the cheery, smoke-filled bar of the Castle Hotel seemed to beckon him through the portals.

  There was a card game taking place in the tap room and now and then a jubilant laugh from one of the players cut through the hubbub of masculine voices.

  Calvin sat near the roaring fire and the old chair creaked beneath him. He took off his hat and saw with a sense of satisfaction that the landlord was at his side in an instant, waiting to serve the unusually well-dressed customer whose very appearance shouted wealth and breeding.

  ‘Ale,’ Calvin said pleasantly, ‘and a toddy on the side will do nicely.’

  ‘I’ll send the girl along at once, sir,’ the landlord said, his plump face half hidden by a bushy moustache. ‘She’s new, so if she’s a bit slow, like, perhaps you’ll make allowances, sir.’

  Calvin stretched his feet towards the blaze and meeting the eyes of the man sitting opposite him, nodded in recognition.

  ‘You’re looking well, Jamie O’Conner. In town for the day?’

  ‘Sure, that’s right.’ Jamie was a handsome man with the far-sighted eyes of a farmer. ‘Whenever we meet,’ he smiled ruefully, ‘it’s usually in the company of our womenfolk at some fair or other.’ He coughed in sudden embarrassment. ‘Sorry, I understand you’ve had some difficulties, you and Eline.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Calvin said briskly. The clink of glasses made him aware of the girl at his side. He turned. She was thin, wraith-like almost, but there was no mistaking the silver hair, upswept now into a knot but the glow undiminished. He had met Arian Smale some time ago, happy and fresh she’d been then, tagging along with a fine young man, Eddie Carpenter was his name, as Calvin remembered.

  He sighed. Things changed. The talk about Arian Smale in recent months had pointed to a very different person to the carefree, confident Arian Smale he had first met.

  ‘Thank you,’ Calvin said. ‘How is your friend Eddie getting along? Is he a doctor yet?’ He looked away quickly. This girl with her haunted eyes and hollow cheeks was yet another reminder of the time when he had been in love with Eline, blindly in love, more fool him. Oh, yes, Eline had taken him places, introduced him to people who, in the normal course of his life, he probably would not have met, worthy people indeed but not his kind, he was better off without them.

  ‘We lost touch. She took a deep breath as though realizing how surly she must seem. ‘Grateful enough he was for your help though, sir, I’m sure.’

  His help?’ Oh yes, he had funded the boy’s training. Calvin had forgotten that, the money had been of little enough consequence. The girl placed the mug of foaming ale on the table and Calvin, glancing at her saw that her eyes were lowered, her shoulders bent in an attitude of subservience. Pity, an unwanted emotion, swept over him. The girl was so pale that her skin was almost transparent. She was, it seemed, beaten into submission by the fate life had meted out to her. Well, whatever stories lie behind her demure façade, that was her business and none of his.

  As the girl moved away, Calvin turned his attention to Jamie O’Conner. The man was leaning forwards on the wooden settle, his legs stretched out before him, his pipe clenched between his teeth and he was watching the girl with a look of concern. Calvin wondered what he was thinking. At least the man wasn’t a gossip, he kept his own counsel.

  Perversely, Calvin suddenly wished to draw the man out, make conversation with him.

  ‘Farm thriving?’ He asked casually and Jamie took his time in deliberation before answering the question.

  ‘Pretty busy this time of year.’ Jamie smiled suddenly and his face was transformed. He was a man that most women would find irresistible and it was clear he was a man at peace with the world and himself. Calvin envied him.

  ‘Early lambing always means work for everyone on the farm but I’ve got the excuse of coming into town for some seed. Could have sent the labourer sure enough but I felt the urge to bend my arm over a drink as a change from driving a plough.’

  Calvin had liked Jamie O’Conner when he’d first met him and now he found himself warming to the man even more. They were from different worlds and yet Calvin recognized the strength of purpose in him.

  ‘You are a lucky man,’ he said almost absently and Jamie nodded.

  ‘Aye, I’ve got my land, a fine wife, a son and now another babbi on the way. You could surely call me lucky.’

  Calvin raised his hand without turning, calling for another drink. His arm met something soft, and there was a sharp intake of breath behind him and the crash of smashing china.

  Calvin was on his feet in an instant and turned to meet the apologetic eyes of Arian Smale.

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ she said quickly. ‘I hope there’s no ale on your sleeve.’

  The landlord hurried across the sawdust-covered floor and bellowed angrily, his face red.

  ‘For God’s sake, was you born awkward?’ He raised his hand as if to cuff the girl but Calvin grasped his wrist.

  ‘No harm done,’ he said easily. ‘In any case it was my fault not hers.’

  ‘She’s a trouble-maker, that one,’ the landlord said staring down at Arian with baleful eyes. ‘Needs teaching a lesson and I’m just the one to do it. Whatever I try to do for her, she treats me like I’m dog shit, pardon my language, sir.’

  He turned to Arian, ‘Get out into the kitchen, out of my sight,’ he said. ‘I’ll deal with you later.’

  Arian was removing the sacking apron from around her waist with an air of resignation. She ignored the customers and faced the landlord.

  ‘I’m not going to let you hit me,’ her voice was cold, ‘and I’m not coming to your bed, whatever your threats or promises, I’d rather leave here.’

  ‘What and go back to sleeping rough?’ The landlord sounded incredulous. ‘Nothing but a tinker you are and what I say is—’

  The rest of his sentence was cut off as Jamie shouldered him aside and took Arian by the arm. ‘You are coming home with me,’ he said. ‘You know Fon wants you to stay with us, give her a hand, like.’ He gestured around the room. ‘There’s no need for you to work at this sort of job and you know it.’

  ‘Thank you, Jamie,’ Arian said quietly, ‘but you’ve got enough mouths to feed without me adding to your burdens. Don’t worry, I’ll soon find something else.’

  ‘What about working for me?’ Calvin was surprised when the words came out of his mouth. He certainly hadn’t meant to say them.

  ‘As what?’ Arian was looking at him with suspicion in her eyes. Calvin noticed that the lashes sweeping her cheeks when she looked away from him were dark in contrast with the lightness of her hair.

  ‘As a servant, what else?’ he said easily. ‘I’ve a housekeeper, new at her job, and a cook who is growing old, and both of them could do with help.’ He shrugged, ‘It’s entirely up to you. I live up at Stormhill Manor if you are interested.’

  He picked up his hat and dropped some money on the damp table top. ‘Here, landlord,’ he said, ‘that should compensate you for the loss of your mug of ale.’ He smiled, ‘As for the loss of your barmaid, I don’t think you’ll mind that very much, will you?’

  Outside, in the clear air, Calvin took a deep breath. What was he about, taking pity on the girl? She probably was trouble as the landlord claimed. Arian Smale had been involved in several scandals already, considering she was just a slip of a girl. He shrugged as he strode away from the
hotel. Arian Smale was nothing to do with him, she could go to hell her own way for all he cared.

  Arian hurried from the hotel and regardless of the bite of the rough cobbles against the thin soles of her shoes began to run after the retreating figure of Calvin Temple. His offer had been a genuine one and though she didn’t relish fetching and carrying for the rich of the town, neither did she relish the thought of sleeping outdoors again, not after having had a bed, however humble, in the upper reaches of the Castle Hotel.

  ‘Sir,’ she said breathlessly, ‘I’ll take the job if it’s still on offer.’

  ‘How good of you.’ Calvin’s shoulder seemed to hunch away from her as though he was embarrassed at her nearness.

  ‘Can I come up to the manor now. Please,’ she added as an afterthought.

  ‘That will be all right.’ Calvin glanced at her with a complete lack of interest that somehow piqued Arian. She knew she wasn’t looking her best, her hair needed washing and her clothes were faded and torn but all the same, she was used to seeing lust in the eyes of any man who took the trouble to really look at her.

  She knew about Lord Temple’s troubles. Everyone in Swansea had heard that he’d been cuckolded by his wife, that he’d learned that the child she’d borne was not his and had cast her out without a penny to her name, and that he’d even closed down Eline’s business enterprises, cleverly depriving her of any profit from them.

  Arian had worked for Eline briefly, but that was before Price Davies had started his campaign of hatred against her. Arian shivered, pushing away the painful memories.

  ‘Are you cold?’ Calvin Temple looked down at her, his eyebrows raised, a frown creasing his forehead. He was a handsome man but there was an impatience about him, about the way he moved, even about the way he spoke.

  ‘I’m all right,’ Arian said with feigned indifference. ‘I’m used to being out in the weather.’

  The drive leading to Stormhill Manor was tree lined and long and when the impressive structure came into view, Arian took a deep breath wondering how Eline Temple could have brought herself to give up all this for a love match with a cobbler in some poky rented room.

  Calvin Temple led the way into the spacious hallway and when a young servant girl bobbed a curtsy to him, he gestured for Arian to be taken to the kitchens.

  ‘Tell Mrs Bob to find her something to eat and to see to it that there’s a room ready and some warm, clean clothing, er …’

  ‘Bella, sir and if it please your lordship, where can I get clothes from, none of us her size, see?’

  Calvin glanced first at the maid’s rounded body and then he turned to where Arian stood, slight and delicate.

  ‘I see the problem.’ He put his hand in his pocket and took out some money. ‘Run out and fetch some clothes then, Bella. You can be trusted to buy skirts and undergarments, can’t you?’

  Before Arian could protest, he turned away. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said dryly, ‘it can come out of your first month’s money, you won’t owe me a thing.’

  He opened the doors to what appeared to be the library, numerous volumes of books ranging the walls, protected by glass doors. A cheerful fire gleamed in the hearth and a leather-topped desk and chair took precedence over any other furniture in the room.

  The doors closed and Arian was suddenly shut out. She almost stepped back a pace as though she’d been slapped and then she looked into the curious face of the maid.

  For a moment they stared at each other in silence and then Bella sniffed. ‘I know who you are, that Arian Smale what killed her own father, that’s who you are.’

  Arian moved closer. ‘Well if I am,’ she said with menace, ‘don’t you think you should be wary of me in case I feel the urge to strike again?’

  This was a prospect Bella obviously hadn’t considered and she backed away nervously. ‘I didn’t mean nothing, I ’spects you had your reasons. Look,’ she said coaxingly, ‘I’ll take you to Mrs Bob’s kitchen and while you have a nice drink of milk I’ll run out to the shops and get you some clothes.’

  Arian followed the girl to the regions below the stairs from where the mouthwatering aroma of cooking meat drifted upwards. A woman of uncertain years stood over the huge range, her thick ankles jutting like tree trunks from beneath the hem of her skirt. Her shoes gaped, as though the leather was unable to cope with the spread of her feet.

  ‘Mrs Bob,’ Bella said with a deference that wasn’t lost on Arian, ‘this is a new maid that the master’s taken on.’

  ‘Oh, what are your duties, girl?’ Mrs Bob lifted the lid of one of the saucepans and sniffed at the contents before adding a little seasoning.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ Arian said, ‘I suppose I can do whatever needs doing.’

  ‘That’s what I call talking good horse sense.’ Mrs Bob looked at her more closely. ‘Don’t talk like no maid to me, though, you been edycated I’d say.’

  ‘She’s Arian Smale, you know the one that killed her dad,’ Bella chimed in and stepped back quickly. ‘I’d better go and get them clothes then.’ Hastily, she donned her coat and disappeared through the back door.

  ‘Sit down gel, have a cup of my special tea.’ Mrs Bob indicated a chair and Arian felt that she was being done a great honour.

  ‘Thank you.’ She sat at the table that had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life and gratefully took the hot cup of tea that Mrs Bob poured for her.

  ‘What’s all this then, girl?’ she asked, ‘More to the tale than that silly fool Bella knows, I’ll be bound.’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Arian said slowly, ‘there was a fight, my father had a gun in his hand, he had already put a bullet into the shoulder of another man when I came into the house. I tried to take the gun away from him.’ She shrugged, ‘It went off, my father was killed.’

  ‘That’s that then,’ Mrs Bob said, ‘you’ll hear no more about it, I’ll see to that.’ She poured some more tea. ‘There hasn’t been a great deal of luck in your young life by the look of you, Duw we’ll have to see that changes from now. You’ll have a good job by here with us if you work hard and get along easy-like. His lordship don’t bother us too much except when things go wrong. Fair, he is, mind and we won’t have nothing said about him.’

  She rose to her feet. ‘Now how about peeling some spuds for his dinner? Thin I want them peeled mind, they cost a pretty penny these days so there’s no wasting good food, understand?’

  ‘I understand.’ Arian found herself smiling. Mrs Bob might be strict, a martinet even, but she had a good heart. She had taken Arian’s word about the killing without question.

  Arian shuddered and pushed the thoughts of her father away into the recesses of her mind where all her unhappiness lay. There were enough bad memories hidden there to last her a lifetime.

  By the time she went to bed it was past midnight. Arian lay in the unfamiliar room listening to the breathing of Bella in the bed opposite. The maid had forgotten to buy her any nightclothes when she went on her shopping jaunt and so Arian had climbed beneath the blankets in her shift.

  ‘Arian,’ Bella whispered and Arian turned over, the springs creaking a protest beneath her.

  ‘What?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Do you mind talking a bit?’ Bella asked. ‘I can’t always get off to sleep straight away-like, a bit afraid of the dark I am, see and Mrs Bob won’t allow no candles in bedrooms.’

  ‘Go on then, talk if it helps,’ Arian said in resignation. She ached, her eyes were heavy, but Bella’s next words brought her awake at once.

  ‘My dad used to hurt me,’ she said. ‘I don’t blame you for killing your dad, not if he was like my dad.’

  Arian bit her lip in silence and Bella, encouraged, continued to talk. ‘Used to come to me when I was in bed, he did,’ Bella said in quiet despair, ‘used to lift up the bedclothes and get in with me. Hurt me bad, he did, mind, and me afraid to call out for someone, anyone to come and take him off me. Is that why you killed your dad?’

&nb
sp; ‘No,’ Arian said gently. ‘My father had a gun, he was drunk, all I did was try to take the gun away from him. It was an accident.’ She leaned up on one elbow and looked across at the lump of Bella’s body in the other bed.

  ‘I’m sorry about what your father did to you,’ she said softly. ‘Some men are just evil.’

  ‘Not his lordship though,’ Bella’s voice was suddenly warm. ‘A saint he is, a fine man, he don’t do nor say nothing smutty-like, it was awful the way his wife treated him.’

  ‘Aye, well that’s none of our business,’ Arian said softly, ‘now I’ve had enough of talking, I’ve just got to get some sleep.’ She turned over to face the wall, hugging the rough blankets close to her. She felt warm and protected and for the first time in many a long night, she felt safe even from her nightmares.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The house in World’s End was typical of those surrounding it; tall, and hidden away in a damp, cobbled court. The room at the back of the building was small and cramped, the walls though freshly painted were marked by patches of damp. The curtains on the window hid cracked panes of glass that none the less shone with much polishing. In one corner of the room stood a bed draped with the same cheap, bright material as the windows. It was clear that no effort had been spared to make a home out of one room.

  A young woman sat in her chair nursing a small child, an expression of tranquil happiness on her face. On the hob beside her bubbled a pan of cawl, the succulent smell of lamb and vegetables drifted to the small, cobbled yard outside.

  William Davies lifted his head and sniffed the soup appreciatively, glancing through the open door of the small workshop that in reality was little more than a shed, into the single room where Eline sat holding their son, his face softened; she was beautiful and she was his.

  William Davies was a strong, handsome man with just a wing of white streaking his hair. He wore the leather apron of the cobbler and in his hand was a dog, the clamp cobblers used for holding the leather-upper to the sole. He was sitting astride a small bench with an iron last between his strong thighs. Nails jutted from between his teeth and he removed one and deftly hammered it into place in the leather sole of the boot he was mending. He paused as though becoming aware of the silence from within the room.