by Iris Gower
Eynon waited for Jim to leave and then he came back to the fireside. ‘My father has been very cunning, Lloyd, but perhaps we can outwit him, play him at his own game.’
‘How, just tell me that, Eynon?’ Lloyd looked up eagerly at the younger man.
‘I’ll talk to my aunt, ask her to allow the people of the row to return to their houses. I will also ask her to sign a document allowing you free access.’
‘Why should she do that?’
‘My father is away, so is Georgina – I will never have a better time to approach the old lady.’
‘All right, go ahead. I’ll keep the men quiet in the morning. We’ll wait for you to come to us.’
Eynon smiled at Llinos. ‘Don’t look so worried, this will all work out, you’ll see.’
Llinos was worried. From the little she had heard of Mrs Sanders, the lady was not one to give in so easily.
Later, as she lay in the darkness, Llinos put all thoughts of the pottery out of her mind. She concentrated on Joe. She saw in the darkness the outline of his strong face, saw the hair sweep his shoulders, felt his arms, strong around her. She wanted Joe so badly it hurt.
She knew he felt she had let him down. They had been married by the laws of the American Indians and should have been married in church as soon as they returned to Swansea. If she had done as Joe wished, she would be lying with him now instead of alone with only her imaginings for company.
She sat up abruptly, the bedclothes slipping away from her. Joe was here! She knew it, felt it. She pulled on a robe and padded to the window. A slant of moonlight fell across the yard and after a moment she saw him, a shadow among the shadows. Was he really there or was her imagination playing tricks on her?
She hurried downstairs and opened the back door to the yard. Then she was in his arms. She breathed in Joe’s scent, touched his skin, his hair. Neither of them spoke. He held her close, his lips against her hair. Slowly, he tipped her face up to his and his mouth was hot against hers.
Llinos felt a surge of an emotion that was more than happiness, more than desire. ‘Joe.’ Her voice was hoarse. ‘I love you so much!’
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. She wanted more of him. She wanted to possess him. To be one with him.
He kissed her throat, the rise of her breasts between the edges of her robe. Passion flared through her. She responded to him, pressing herself against the hardness of his body.
When he moved from her she felt cold. ‘Joe . . .’ Her voice trailed away. How could she ask him to come to her bed? She could not be so immodest. And yet everything in her yearned to have him hold her in his arms again.
‘Go to bed now.’ He spoke softly. ‘I shall sleep in the kitchen, near the fire.’ She felt rather than saw him smile.
‘I shall keep the flame alight, don’t you worry, my Firebird.’
She did not want to leave him but if she stayed with him any longer, she would forget modesty, forget pride. She would beg him to make love to her. She turned and ran upstairs. If she gave in to her feelings now, she would make a mockery of all the protestations she had made about waiting for a proper church wedding.
She sank onto her bed and clenched her hands together. ‘Damn and blast my stupid scruples.’ Her whisper hung for a moment on the air and then there was only the silence of the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Philip Morton-Edwards was a happy man. He had found in his new wife the perfect woman. After the first few nights of their marriage when she was understandably modest, she had responded to his demands with an eagerness that pleased and excited him.
Admittedly, she was plain of face but her body was young and strong; her breast full and ripe, her hips curved pleasingly. Best of all, she enjoyed experimenting as much as he did. With her he did not need to resort to threats or coercion as he’d done with Estelle. Even better, Georgina was not very bright, he could influence her in any way he chose.
He was sitting at his desk in the den, staring out of the window at the garden beyond. He could see his land spread out before him and he felt a glow of satisfaction. Soon, he would own the Savage Pottery and there was nothing Lloyd Savage could do to prevent it.
One little task remained unattended to, that was the matter of Eynon. The boy had shown more grit than Philip had expected. Perhaps it would have been advisable to allow the boy to trek off to North Wales and live near the vapid cleric.
Martin would never have inspired Eynon to show such courage and strength. No, the fault for that lay with the foreigner Lloyd Savage had brought home with him.
Philip had been angry and disappointed when the men he had sent to England had failed to get rid of the Indian, but perhaps it was just as well. It was just possible that this half-breed Indian could yet prove useful. It was something he would ponder over.
He turned the pages of the order book he’d brought in from the manufactory. Business was booming, the porcelain wares, though still throwing up a great deal of waste, paid well. The plain pottery side of the business had begun to flourish simply because Lloyd Savage had been prevented from trading.
‘Philip, darling, could I interrupt just for a moment?’ Georgina was standing in the doorway. Her bodice was low-cut, the waist high, all of which served to emphasize the lovely swell of her breasts. Philip was immediately roused. He was proud of his reaction, not bad for a man in his middle years.
‘You can interrupt me any time you wish, my dear. Come in.’ He held out his arms and his new wife came into them with an eagerness that was gratifying. Her breasts brushed against his face and he buried his head against her softness.
‘Darling, the door is open, the maids might see us.’
Philip pushed her bodice aside with his chin and his mouth fastened onto a pink nipple. He cared not a fig for the servants. If they saw anything then the fault was theirs, they should not be snooping.
The thought of being observed stimulated him. He pushed up the thin material of Georgina’s dress and pressed against her. She began to respond in a most gratifying way. Her head was flung back, soft moans escaped from her rosy lips. He laughed, she was as roused as he by the thought that someone might see them. Yes, this marriage was working out in a most satisfactory way.
Though Philip did not know it, Georgina was of a like mind. ‘It’s working rather well, isn’t it, God-Mamma?’ Georgina was seated in the window staring out at the early-evening sky. The old lady was positioned next to the ornate lamp, stitching at a sampler.
‘It seems that way,’ she said. ‘He thinks you stupid, me too. So did his son, coming cap in hand expecting me to give him all he asked for. Well, I showed him the rough side of my tongue.’
She smiled enigmatically. ‘Did I hear sounds of passion earlier this morning?’
‘You did, and afterwards my dear husband was so exhausted he needed to lie down in his bedroom.’
‘Well, keep up the good work, dear, but don’t kill him off too quickly. Allow the man time to settle with that son of his.’
She smiled. ‘Play your cards right, my dear, everything will be yours. That is, everything except for the Savage Pottery.’
Georgina arched her eyebrows. Her godmother tapped her hand with her fan.
‘Just a little payment for my support, wouldn’t you say?’
The ringing of the doorbell echoed through the house and Georgina heard the patter of the maid’s footsteps across the hall. She frowned as she heard a male voice raised in anger.
‘It’s Eynon,’ she said. ‘I hope Philip has revived enough to tackle his son.’
Eynon came into the drawing-room and looked around him. ‘Where’s Father?’
‘Sit down, Eynon, please.’ She spoke sweetly. ‘Your father will be down in a moment. He has been resting. He’s not as young as he used to be and the exertions of coping with a new wife have tired him.’
Eynon sank into a chair and Georgina studied him dispassionately. He was a good-looking man. Thin, perhaps, but hi
s legs beneath his breeches were satisfyingly muscled. His shirt was open at the neck and the pale column of his neck rose to a well-proportioned face and curling fair hair. She wondered what it would be like to lie with him.
‘How’s your friend, you know the one, the half-breed, Joe, I think they call him? Handsome devil, isn’t he, at least Llinos Savage thinks so.’
Eynon looked at her coldly without replying. Georgina continued speaking, unabashed by his displeasure. ‘Such a strong face and those broad shoulders, I can see why she thinks so much of him.’
She leaned closer and whispered to him so that her godmother could not hear. ‘I expect he’s a wonderful lover, unlike you? Never had a woman, have you, Eynon, dear?’
Eynon looked at her with loathing. ‘You are disgusting.’ He turned his face away but she could see she had hurt him and she was not about to let him off the hook so easily.
‘I wonder if he is actually in love with that Savage trollop.’ She put her head on one side. ‘What goes on between the three of you when you are alone? I would love to know.’
Philip entered the room, his robe carelessly thrown around his thickening body. Grey coarse hairs sprouted from his chest and he looked older than his years. Georgina congratulated herself; her eagerness between the sheets was taking its toll on him.
‘Darling!’ She rose and slipped her hand through his arm. ‘Your son has come to see us, don’t you think that’s good of him?’
‘What do you want, Eynon?’
‘Look, Father, can’t you stop all this? What’s the gain in turning folks from their homes and preventing the Savage Pottery from working? Have you no honour?’
Philip disentangled himself from Georgina’s hands. ‘Why don’t we go into my den and talk this over, man to man?’
‘Oh, no, darling, I want to hear what you have to say, too.’ Georgina pouted but Philip shook his head.
‘We don’t want to upset Catherine, do we?’
Georgina followed them and stood outside the half-open door listening unashamedly.
‘You see, this is the way of it, Eynon. I want sons, good strong, honest-to-God sons. You, unfortunately, will never carry on the Morton-Edwards name, you must see that. You lost your chance when you let the Savage girl slip away from you,’
‘So what do you suggest, Father, that I give in to you and relinquish my right to my inheritance and all will be well with the people of the row?’
‘What if I say I will arrange for the people to rent their homes once more.’ He paused. ‘In addition, I will call my men off the Indian fellow.’
Georgina could hear Eynon’s hissing breath. ‘That won’t work, Father. I will tell the whole town what you are up to. I’ll even tell them how you murdered Estelle.’
Georgina took a step backwards. Murder? That was something she had not suspected. Still, it was all very interesting and it was good to be forewarned of just how far Philip could go.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about Mrs Lane, the herbalist woman in town. I’m talking about weed killer that you bought from her some time before Estelle died.’
‘Who would believe you, Eynon, tell me that?’ Philip laughed shortly.
‘Estelle told Llinos of her suspicions, as well as me. You’re on thin ice, Father.’
Philip shook his head. ‘No-one is going to believe a word you say. I didn’t murder Estelle, such a suggestion is absurd.’
‘Just be careful, Father, one day you will go too far and then your entire house of cards will come crashing down on your head.’
‘Go away, Eynon. Talking to you has the same effect on me as squashing a gnat. You are merely an irritation. Get out of my house and stay out.’
The door swung wide and Eynon brushed past Georgina as though he had not seen her. She waited for the slamming of the front door and then she went into the den. It was time to tell Philip what was on her mind.
‘That boy is a changeling, I’m sure he’s not your son,’ she said. ‘You are so masculine, my darling, so vigorous and he is a fop. Are you sure your wife did not trick you into marriage?’
She saw the light dawn in Philip’s face and hid a smile. He would take the suggestion she had made so casually and mould it to make it work for him and never realize it was she who had planted the seed.
‘You’re right, he can’t be any son of mine, I will repudiate him.’ Philip thrust his hands into the pockets of his robe. He still needed some guidance from her and Georgina touched his arm lightly.
‘Think back, darling, perhaps Eynon wasn’t your wife’s child either. Perhaps he’s a substitute planted by your first wife to stop you getting all the money from her family.’
‘That would be just the sort of thing she would do,’ Philip said. ‘Most of her relatives were dead and had already willed their estates to any son she might bear. My first wife had a great deal to gain by having a child.’
‘Think back, darling, did you see a great deal of your wife through her pregnancy?’
Philip rubbed his chin. ‘No, I did not. She went off to Gloucester for weeks on end. When she returned the boy was in her arms. I thought it strange she was not here for the birth.’
Of course, he had thought no such thing but it was politic to encourage him. ‘There, you see? Give it some more thought, darling. Is there anyone of the family left to deny or confirm your story?’
Philip smiled. ‘No, I don’t think there is.’
Georgina could see that he was pleased with the story that was unfolding in his mind. She put her arms around him and kissed his cheek.
‘You are so kind, my love, many a man would never have accepted the boy in the first place. You did not wish to doubt your wife and so you put your fears to the back of your mind. But now, the truth is staring you in the face. Eynon does not look like you, he does not behave like you. He cannot be your son.’
She smoothed back his grey hair. ‘Perhaps you should go to Gloucester, see if you can bribe, er . . . coax someone into admitting the child was theirs and was given up to a rich lady in order to have a better life, you know, darling, that’s the sort of story that always touches people’s hearts.’
‘I’ll do that, my darling. I’ll go first thing in the morning.’
‘Oh, my love, I know you are right to go away when your whole future lies in the balance, but I’m going to miss you so much! Don’t be away for long or I’ll die of loneliness.’ Georgina pressed her lips to his and he held her for a moment before gently easing her away.
She smiled. ‘I can see you want to prepare for the journey. I’ll make myself useful and tell the maid which clothes to pack for you.’
‘The maids know what I’ll need, darling.’ He took her hands and kissed her fingertips.
‘No, I shall see to it myself. I want to make sure you are well equipped to face the weather. I can’t have you falling sick, can I?’
As she left the study and made her way upstairs, Georgina was exultant. If all went well, Eynon would be discredited, his riches forfeit. She smiled. Before very much longer, she would be a young, very rich widow.
The men had gathered in one of the sheds in the yard of the Savage Pottery. Their voices, loud and angry, carried to where Llinos was sitting at the kitchen table. Joe was with them and she knew he would keep tempers in check with his air of calm.
The cook was stirring a huge pot of cawl, the smell of the rich lamb soup permeating the room. Later, the men would all be served with a hot meal, possibly their first since they had been evicted from their homes.
Llinos made her way outside, pausing in the doorway to draw her cloak more firmly around her shoulders. Her father had told her to stay indoors but she must know what was going on.
Her father was speaking. ‘You can count on me to give you all the support I can muster.’
‘But will we get our homes back, Mr Savage?’ Jim Cooper stepped forward. ‘There are eighteen families been done out of house and home by this Sanders person
.’
‘Morton-Edwards,’ Lloyd said, ‘is the real culprit, he is determined to ruin me, to ruin all of us.’
‘We can’t fight ’im, Mr Savage, he’s too rich, too powerful, we might as well give up the ghost here and now.’
Lloyd tried to interject, but the mumbling became louder until the men were arguing between themselves.
Llinos watched worriedly as Joe made his way to the front of the crowd.
‘Quiet!’ His voice carried clearly above the noise. ‘Let us be calm about this.’
‘What’s it got to do with you, you’re a bloody foreigner,’ Jim Cooper said.
‘Listen to him, Jim,’ Lloyd interjected. ‘Joe is a well-educated man. He has a good head on his shoulders. What’s more, as an outsider, he can see the facts of the matter more clearly.’
‘All right, listen.’ Joe paused and looked round; he had the men’s attention. ‘Before you were evicted did any of you fail to pay your rent on time?’
There were murmurs of dissent from the crowd. Celia-end-house lifted her hand.
‘I did. I owed the landlord one week’s money but it wasn’t my fault, he never called to collect it.’
‘Are you aware that by law you should have a leasing agreement?’
‘No, we wasn’t.’ One of the men pushed his way to the front of the crowd. ‘But where’s all this getting us? The new owner can’t be responsible for what the old landlord did.’
‘The law is complicated, I agree, but I believe that you, as tenants, have security of tenure for the term of your lease, whoever owns the land.’
‘What does all that gobbledegook mean?’ Celia asked. It was Lloyd who answered her.
‘It means that the new landlord can’t throw you out into the streets. You all have a perfect right to go back into your houses and live there in peace until the lease expires.’
‘I did sign a lease.’ Jim Cooper’s voice rose with excitement. ‘It was for nearly a hundred years.’ He looked round him. ‘Well, I’m not a hundred yet, not by a long chalk!’
‘Right, men.’ Lloyd lifted his hand to acknowledge Celia’s presence. ‘And ladies, how about moving back into your houses?’
