Arian

by Iris Gower

  With an air of determination, she crossed the gracious landing and went into Gerald’s room. It was in darkness and she could hear his regular breathing from the direction of the bed.

  As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, she made her way towards him and climbed beneath the covers, clinging to his shoulder.

  ‘Gerald, wake up. I’ve had such a bad nightmare, I’m so frightened.’ It wasn’t very plausible but drastic action was called for. One thing she had learned about Gerald was that he was more inclined to be amorous after he’d been drinking.

  She pressed herself against him and he groaned a little shifting his position to accommodate her. She snuggled against him and spoke in a small voice.

  ‘Will you hold me, Gerald? Please, just until the nightmare fades a little. I’m so frightened alone in the darkness.’

  The scent of her perfume seemed to bring him fully awake and his arms tightened around her. ‘You know what you are, Sarah,’ he said and there was a touch of indulgence in his voice. ‘You are a scheming hussy.’

  He kissed her throat and she drew a ragged breath as his mouth moved to her breasts. She arched against him hungrily.

  ‘You are such a fine, vigorous man, Gerald. Is it any wonder I can’t resist you?’ Like any man on earth, he liked to be flattered. Just at this moment, Sarah would have said anything to have him hold her and tease her to a pinnacle of passion.

  She ran her hands over his nakedness and knew, with a sense of satisfaction, that he was roused. He wanted her, the knowledge was as heady as wine singing in her blood.

  He slid the straps of her gown from her shoulders, his touch expert, practised. She kicked the satin material away from her, glad to be free of it. Now she was as naked as he was and sighing, she pressed closer to him.

  ‘Please, Gerald, don’t keep me waiting.’ She moaned softly and then he was obeying her wishes, he was possessing her and she felt like swooning with the joy of it.

  Afterwards, they lay side by side and Sarah caressed his cheek gently. ‘You are a fine man, Gerald,’ she whispered. ‘If only you were free of that woman, we could be so happy.’

  He sat up abruptly. ‘I don’t want to be free of her,’ he said harshly. ‘Can’t you understand that, Sarah?’

  She felt pain bite deep into her soul. ‘Gerald …’ she began uncertainly, ‘I didn’t mean any harm.’

  He sensed her hurt and leaned over her. ‘Sarah, I want you, I always want you, but Arian is my wife. Try to understand that.’

  Sarah told herself that she did understand. He was not a man to let go of a possession lightly. That’s all Arian was, a possession, and it hurt Gerald’s pride to have her snatched away.

  She comforted herself with the crumbs of his words. Hadn’t he just said that he always wanted her? Well that must be enough and on the subject of his wife, she must keep her own counsel.

  ‘I do understand, Gerald,’ she said softly. ‘I am married too, don’t forget. I think a lot of Geoffrey, in my way. Whatever he has done, he is my husband.’

  Gerald seemed to relax. He lay back against the pillows, and it was clear he wanted to talk. ‘I won’t have her going off at will, gallivanting out of the country. Do you know she even checked up on the legality of our marriage?’

  Sarah held her breath. She didn’t want Gerald ever to know that she’d had a part in that. He would be furious if he realized it was Sarah who had put the idea of going to France into his wife’s head.

  ‘There’s a strange thing to do then.’ As always, Sarah’s Welshness asserted itself when she was troubled. ‘I think she’s the luckiest woman alive having a fine man like you.’ She risked touching Gerald’s hair but he turned away from her hand impatiently. That was the trouble with him; he was passionate enough and yet afterwards, once he had possessed her, he was a cold stranger.

  ‘Now she’s gone off somewhere else. God knows what she’s up to,’ Gerald continued as though he’d not heard Sarah speak. ‘A law unto herself, is Arian Simples.’ There was a touch of pride in his voice and Sarah felt she knew the secret of his devotion to Arian. She kept him guessing. He didn’t know where he was from one day to the next.

  Yes, Sarah saw it now. The one time she was able to take him away from Arian was when his wife was sickly, docile even. Then Gerald had found her tedious. Perhaps she, Sarah, should play the game of indifference with Gerald, just as she’d been doing for the past weeks. The ploy had worked, she’d got Gerald back into her bed again.

  She sighed, she must be careful with Gerald, not let him know how eager she was to please him. She turned her back on him and sighed as though she was sleepy and she felt him stir at her side. He seemed restless. Well then, let him be restless. She would not bow to his every wish.

  He put his arms around her from behind and drew her into the crook of his body. She felt his warmth, knew his desire for her was reawakened and forgetting all her resolutions, she turned once more into his arms.

  The next morning when Sarah woke, Gerald was gone. She sat up in bed staring at the rumpled sheets and wished that he was there with her, his eyes warm with love, his arms reaching for her. She gave a short laugh. She must be content with what she had, with his occasional passion. Gerald Simples was not a man to give very much of himself to anyone.

  Arian was glad that the voyage was over. She saw the arms of the pier come into sight and sighed with relief. Paul came to her side and smiled down at her. ‘I thought I’d enjoy this moment with you. I’m leaving the captain to do his job and bring us safely into harbour.’

  ‘Was the trip worth it?’ he continued. ‘Did you enjoy your voyage?’ Arian saw how handsome he was in the early light. No wonder Bridie was madly in love with him.

  ‘It had it’s dangers.’ Her voice was dry. ‘But once we understood each other, I think it was a success. At least the trip got me away from Swansea, gave me time to think.’

  It had been difficult convincing Paul she’d come aboard thinking there really was a job for her. He’d been incredulous at first.

  ‘But you’ve left your husband, and a beautiful woman like you was made for love. I find you very exciting Arian, very desirable. I thought we would have a good time together.’

  ‘A fling before you finally settle down, that sort of thing?’ Her reply had been a little sarcastic. ‘Under any other circumstances I might have been tempted to have an affair with you, you’re a very good-looking man.’

  ‘But?’ He raised his eyebrows, smilingly aware of her irony.

  ‘But, Bridie is in love with you. She trusts you. Don’t you realize how lucky you are to have her, Paul?’

  He’d taken her hand, capitulating gracefully. ‘I expect you’re right. In any case, I can take no for an answer. Perhaps, as you’re here on board, it really would be useful for you to go over my accounts. We can tell Bridie how clever you were when we get home.’ If his words held a double meaning, Arian had chosen to ignore it.

  After that, they understood each other and Arian had been free to enjoy the sights of the exotic islands of the Caribbean Sea – the white sandy beaches, the rugged hills surrounding azure lagoons, the quaint sugar mills.

  At St Kitts, they went ashore and spent the day wandering around the tiny town with its shanties laced together by fronds from the coconut trees. Lying there on the sunkissed beach, Arian closed her eyes and imagined Calvin here at her side; the island then would truly have been a paradise.

  The cold spray struck her face. Swansea docks was not far away now; she could almost smell the tar and the aroma of the fishmarket. Once she stepped ashore, the holiday would be over, she would step back into the unhappy realities of her life.

  But it was time now she returned to her roots. While at sea she’d taken stock, faced her failures head on. The one thing she had succeeded at was writing for the newspapers. Writing she was good at, she enjoyed it, but alone it wasn’t enough to make her a living.

  Slowly, her thoughts had crystallized. A newspaper. She could surely do
that sort of job? She had worked enough times with her father, watched him write his leader articles. Ink was in her blood, wasn’t it about time she realized that was where her future lay?

  ‘That’s a pensive look if ever I saw one,’ Paul teased. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. I’d better check on the captain, he’s not all that familiar with these waters.’

  She leaned against the rail and stared overboard at the sea washing against the ship. The question of her future came into her mind once more. Up until now she’d been an abject failure. She had tried to make her name in the leather business but she might have known, early on, it wasn’t for her. Oh, she could tap a boot and shoe, carve a heel from leather, do a fairly competent job but there were many who were more skilled than she was in that trade.

  She was the daughter of a newspaper man, for heaven’s sake. Surely she could find work in one of the local newspaper offices? She had helped to set the type as a young girl. She remembered finishing off her father’s news items often enough when he was drunk. Words, she was good at words. If only she could find backing, she might even be able to start up her own newspaper, in a small way of course.

  The Cambrian newspaper had been taken over by someone else when her father had died but the offices had been abandoned. Somewhere in the bowels of the building the old machinery would still be there, rusting probably. A thought filled her head, an extravagant thought, that perhaps she could do something more ambitious than simply work on a newspaper. She could start her own.

  A sense of adventure filled her. She knew just enough about the newspaper to get by. She would need help, certainly. There was the problem of distribution; she would need boys to stand on the street corners. She would need a good typesetter, she would need lots of things, but at least now she had an idea that might just work.

  The pilot boat drew alongside and the voices of the sailors calling to each other echoed over the waters. What about a ladies’ journal? Arian bit her lip. She could write most, if not all, of the items herself. She would need advertisers, perhaps people like Emily Miller and even Hari Grenfell. There were other businesses – drapers shops, book stores, many business people in Swansea she could approach.

  She remembered then, with mixed feelings, how she had stood in Calvin Temple’s library, how he had shown her a directory of business people. Dare she approach him and ask him for help?

  The ship was nosing into the docks now, the pier amazingly close and Arian held her breath, wondering if the inexperienced captain had made an error of judgement. But no, the pier arm was successfully negotiated and the anchor was being lowered.

  Arian waited, watching the sailors begin to unload the cargo. She must see Paul, say goodbye to him. She had enjoyed being with him and was grateful for the respite, the chance to evaluate her goals. He was a man of ambition and meant to go far in his sea-faring enterprises, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was about to make Bridie James his wife.

  ‘Time to go ashore.’ Paul was at her side, his hand resting on her arm. ‘Thank you, Arian, for your company and if you need anything, another voyage perhaps, just say the word.’

  ‘Thank you, Paul.’ She bent to pick up her bag but he took it from her and led her down the gangway.

  ‘Take care of yourself, Arian.’ Paul smiled and handed her the bag. ‘When you go back to Bridie James’s house will you give her my love?’

  Arian smiled at his impudence. ‘I’ll do that. I’m hoping Jono is here to meet me. He said he’d look out for the return of the Marie Clare and he’s a man who keeps his word.’

  Even as she finished speaking, she caught sight of Jono shouldering his way through the crowd with Bridie clutching his arm.

  ‘Arian!’ he waved and then he was standing before her, smiling down at her, his open face a picture of welcome.

  Arian hugged him and then kissed Bridie’s cheek. ‘It’s good to see you, I’m so glad you came to meet me.’ But Bridie’s eyes were looking past her, hoping no doubt to see Paul.

  Jono took her bag. ‘You’re looking bonny,’ he said. ‘The sea air did you good. There’s pleased I am you’re home again though. I’ve missed you something awful.’

  Bridie disappeared and, looking over her shoulder, Arian saw she was with Paul. They were talking quietly together and after a moment, Bridie smiled brightly, her plain face transformed.

  ‘Paul is coming to have a bit of supper with us tonight.’ There was an excitement in her voice that brought a catch to Arian’s throat. Bridie was a lucky girl, she was going to marry the man she loved.

  ‘I’ve got us a cab waiting,’ Bridie said, reluctantly withdrawing her hand from Paul’s fingers. ‘I thought Arian would like a ride home for a treat.’

  Paul laughed. ‘Good idea. It’ll take a bit of time for her to get her land legs back again, I expect.’

  He winked wickedly at Arian.

  ‘Goodbye.’ She shook his hand formally. ‘And Paul, many thanks for all your kindness.’

  Sandwiched between Jono and Bridie, Arian made her way through the throng of people on the dockside and her spirits were lighter than they’d been for some time. She had hope for the future now, some sort of plan. She felt strong again, her own woman. She had shaken herself free of Gerald’s oppressive influence and had begun to think for herself again.

  As though conjured up like a bad dream, Gerald stood before her. ‘Arian,’ he said forcefully, ‘I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve come to take you home.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Calvin Temple stared out of the window into the night-shaded garden, not seeing the rain dripping from the glossy-leaved laurels or the way the intermittent moonlight washed the ground with light. He was taking stock of his life, trying to make sense of his feelings, wondering at the despair he felt whenever he thought of the future.

  It was the latest gossip about Arian that had unsettled him, of course. Arian had managed to get right away from that charlatan Simples. She had married the man for all the wrong reasons and now, it seemed, she had walked out on him. It appeared she’d run away to sea with Paul Marchant, the young shipowner, the darling of the matrons who hoped for a respectable marriage for maiden daughters.

  Talk was that Arian had sailed with him for the West Indies, had spent long weeks aboard his ship. He could just picture her on some sunwashed island, her and the handsome Marchant together. He clenched his hands into fists. Why didn’t he forget her? Why didn’t he just forget her, start a home and family with someone who would be suitable to his sort of life-style? He’d tried marriage with a woman out of his class once before and look how that had ended.

  The latest news was that Arian had just returned home to Swansea but where she was now, no-one seemed to know. He sank down into a chair and closed his eyes, his mouth curving into an unwilling smile. Arian led the most amazing life, he had to admit that much. She had guts enough to do what she wanted to do, not what people expected of her. She certainly wasn’t one to conform as other women did, settling for domesticity and the quiet life. This, Calvin recognized, was part of her charm.

  He rose from his chair abruptly. It was about time he made some decisions, stopped idling about like a young untutored lad. If he wanted a home, a family, he’d better start thinking seriously about finding himself a wife.

  He thought briefly of Daphne but dismissed the idea at once. He knew without a shadow of doubt that motherhood did not feature as any part of her plans. Daphne was a mistress, a damn fine mistress but she did not want the responsibilities of marriage and children and frankly he didn’t blame her.

  Arian wasn’t cut out to be a wife either, sweet fragile Arian, perhaps too frail for childbearing. What Calvin needed was strong heirs and a good woman to rear them. Families needed stability, a sense of continuity. And yet, without doubt he would take Arian on any terms, he would pay any price, he would even settle for her being his mistress, any children they might have being illegitimate. No problem was insurmountable if there was the will to
overcome.

  Why didn’t he find her then, tell her of his feelings? What did he have to lose? She might laugh in his face, might turn him down flat, but on the other hand, she might just want to be with him. He could set her up in a nice house somewhere. They could live together, fall in love together, because she would love him, given time, he knew it in his bones.

  The clock in the hall chimed the hour, ten o’clock. He turned towards the window, staring out at the darkness. It was too late now to go making social calls but tomorrow he would look for her, find out where Arian had gone. It would be easy enough to track her down, surely?

  With an impatient movement, he rose and drew the heavy curtains against the night, his thoughts racing like a rat in a trap. He was losing his mind, becoming obsessed. He covered his face with his hands. ‘Arian.’ The name fell softly into the darkness of the room that was lit only by the dying embers of the fire.

  * * *

  ‘It’s a lovely house.’ Arian looked up from the long dining table and stared round at the pictures hanging on the walls. Bridie had good taste, that much was obvious and the money with which to indulge her wishes.

  ‘I thought you’d have a nice surprise.’ Bridie smiled amiably, putting down her napkin. ‘It was high time I gave Jono back his privacy. I couldn’t live there in his cottage for ever, could I?’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Jono grumbled amiably, lifting the glass which looked ludicrously tiny in his big hand.

  Arian could see that Paul Marchant was impressed. He hadn’t realized quite how well-set up Bridie was or how extensive her shipping fleet. Early in the evening, Bridie had mentioned casually that she and Paul must get together some time with a view to joining forces; as she’d said, a woman needed a man as a figure-head, especially in something as hazardous as transporting goods overseas.