Beggars and Choosers

by Catrin Collier

‘I doubt that I’ll be leaving Mr Horton’s much before six o’clock, Sali. Would you like me to pick you up at your mother’s house or here? On second thoughts, don’t answer that question. I’ll pick you up here and visit Gwyneth and Morgan with you. They have become excessively tiresome since you moved in with me and it’s hardly fair to expect you to face them on your own. Goodbye, dear boy.’ She left her chair and stood on tiptoe to kiss Mansel’s cheek. ‘The next time I kiss you, it won’t be a boy I’ll be kissing but a married man.’ She poked him playfully with her lace-mittened hand as he brought her her cape. ‘Don’t be late at the chapel.’

  ‘I’ll be half an hour early. Just make sure my bride gets there on time.’

  ‘I will. I’ll see you downstairs in Mansel’s office at six o’clock, Sali.’

  Mansel closed the door behind Edyth and slipped the bolt home.

  ‘Do you think she knows what we do when she leaves us alone?’ Sali asked diffidently.

  ‘Possibly, but given what is going to happen tomorrow it hardly matters, does it, darling?’

  Sali returned his smile. In the six weeks that had elapsed since he had first made love to her on the river bank, he had made love to her every time the opportunity arose, and there had been several opportunities since she had moved out of Danygraig House and into Ynysangharad House.

  Aunt Edyth didn’t watch her anything like as closely as her Uncle Morgan, and as Edyth had never suggested that Mansel relinquish his keys to her house, it had been the easiest thing in the world for him to dine in Ynysangharad House, leave at the end of the evening and slip in later through a side door and visit her bedroom after the maid had left for the night.

  There had also been several lunches and teas like this one in his rooms above the store and, ever tactful, Edyth had made a habit of leaving early and picking up Sali later in her carriage. She never enquired what they did with the private time she engineered for them, but she had dropped a few heavy hints that she was looking forward to becoming a great-great-aunt on Sali’s side and a great-aunt on Mansel’s.

  He opened the door. ‘Shall I take the decanter?’

  ‘Not for me.’

  He held out his hand, she took it, and he led her into the bedroom.

  If Mansel had noticed that Sali was uncharacteristically silent and submissive during their lovemaking, he never commented on it. The more he made love to her, the less she had come to hope for pleasure, let alone the beautiful experience Aunt Edyth had spoken of. To her it was an act of sacrifice, one she made willingly and gladly because she knew it pleased him. The lectures and sermons her Uncle Morgan had given them in her father’s study to prepare them for marriage had detailed a wife’s duty as much as the husband’s responsibility to care for his family.

  Much as Sali disliked her Uncle Morgan, she couldn’t argue against his precepts. A wife’s vow to love, honour and obey her husband was integral not only to marriage but the Christian faith. And, as she loved Mansel, so it had to follow that it was her duty to obey him, which was why she stood in the stuffy gloom of the bedroom, and allowed him to remove her clothes, prior to taking her to bed.

  The best time for her was afterwards, when she lay in his arms, happy simply to be physically close to him, secure in the knowledge that he would make no further demands for a while, and if she were fortunate, not until the next opportunity arose for them to be in private.

  ‘Mrs Mansel James.’ He rolled back the sheet, baring her breasts as they lay side by side in the great bed. ‘I forgot to tell you, I picked up your wedding ring today. And I have a surprise for you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ll have to wait until tomorrow night to find out.’ He glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside cabinet. ‘Time to dress and go downstairs.’ He left the bed and pulled on his drawers. ‘Don’t keep me waiting in the chapel tomorrow.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘I promise,’ she assured him seriously.

  ‘Keep your word and there’ll be a second surprise.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I’m going to enjoy having a wife to spoil.’

  Edyth would not have admitted she was the slightest bit nervous but her hands shook as she checked that her hat, which had been firmly pinned on by her maid only a minute before, was securely in place. ‘This is ridiculous, Geraint,’ she complained. ‘If your mother wanted to see Sali before she goes to the chapel, she should have stayed here last night.’

  ‘Do you really expect Mother to leave Danygraig House when she hasn’t even left her room since Father died?’ he questioned mildly.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ she conceded.

  They both looked up as Sali walked down the stairs, an ethereal vision in lace and silk.

  ‘You look beautiful, Sali. The perfect bride.’ Geraint picked up the bouquet of lilies from the hallstand and handed it to her. ‘Father would have been very proud.’

  ‘I see you’ve inherited Harry’s silver tongue, Geraint.’ Edyth deftly rearranged his tie. ‘Llinos?’

  ‘Here, Aunt Edyth.’ Dressed in her bridesmaid’s outfit of pale pink silk, and carrying a posy of pink rosebuds, Llinos left the morning room and ran dutifully to her aunt.

  ‘Gareth?’

  He walked in through the open front door. ‘The carriages are waiting, Aunt Edyth.’

  ‘Then we’ll go on ahead. As you are the man of the family after Geraint, Gareth, you will have the pleasure of escorting two ladies. Well, Miss Watkin Jones?’ Edyth blotted a tear with her white kid glove as she looked at Sali. ‘Are you ready to become Mrs Mansel James?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Edyth.’ Considering the solemnity of the occasion, Sali felt oddly calm and in control.

  ‘See you in the chapel in ten minutes. You had better leave right behind us if you are intent on complying with your mother’s ridiculous order to visit her. Don’t let Gwyneth delay you,’ she whispered to Geraint as he helped her into her carriage.

  ‘Don’t worry, Aunt Edyth, I’ll get Sali to the chapel on time,’ he assured her, glancing at Sali who was standing in the porch.

  Despite her insistence that Sali visit her before the chapel ceremony, Gwyneth barely opened her eyes as the parlour maid ushered Sali and Geraint into her bedroom. Mari, Tomas and the rest of the staff had left the house half an hour before, having been given grudging permission by Morgan to attend their young mistress’ wedding ceremony.

  ‘Hello, Mother.’ Sali leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  Gwyneth waved her hand in the direction of the door. Taking the gesture as a dismissal, Sali backed out of the sick room.

  ‘What does it feel like to be free?’ Geraint offered Sali his arm.

  ‘I’ll tell you in an hour.’

  ‘The four years ahead of me feel like a life sentence,’ he grumbled.

  ‘You’ve already served six months.’

  ‘And I have eight times as much to go.’

  ‘Is school that bad?’

  ‘School, no.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘But coming back here is. You wouldn’t believe how awful this house is now that you aren’t living here. Or Uncle Morgan.’

  ‘You’re forgetting I was here until a month ago. But things may improve. Mansel has promised to start working on Uncle Morgan today. He is going to ask him if you, Gareth and Llinos can spend your Christmas holidays with us in Ynysangharad House.’

  ‘Good old Mansel.’ Steering her through the crowd that had gathered at the gate to watch her leave the house, he handed her into the flower-decked carriage and arranged her train and veil away from the opposite seat so he could sit facing her without damaging her gown.

  They set off up Taff Street and Sali waved to the Saturday shoppers.

  ‘What does it feel like to be almost royalty?’ Geraint teased.

  ‘I’ll never be that.’

  ‘Mansel is the town’s youngest, most prominent, and wealthiest businessman.’

  ‘You know I never think about money ...’ She broke off as a man ran
alongside the carriage and tapped the door on the approach to Penuel Chapel.

  ‘Mr Richards?’ Geraint pushed down the window. ‘Is anything wrong?’

  Ignoring Geraint, the solicitor shouted at the driver, ‘Drive through the town, turn up Mill Street into Catherine Street, then drive back here via Penuel Road – slowly.’ He mopped his face with his handkerchief.

  ‘Whatever’s wrong, Mr Richards?’ Sali asked in alarm.

  ‘Nothing for you to concern yourself about, Miss Watkin Jones,’ he said unconvincingly.

  ‘Please, stop for a moment,’ Sali ordered the driver. ‘Mr Richards, is it my aunt?’

  ‘It’s Mr James; someone has gone to the rooms above the store. He’s overslept. Slowly, driver,’ Mr Richards ordered the coachman. ‘I don’t want to see you back here for ten minutes. Better Mr James wait than you, Miss Watkin Jones. And don’t worry. You’ll both be laughing about this tonight.’ He stepped away from the carriage. Sali looked back but they were passing the burial ground behind the chapel. She caught a glimpse of her father’s tombstone and Mrs Horton’s flower-decked grave behind it. Then the driver whipped the horses and they moved on.

  Chapter Seven

  Sali raised her head and stared at the gilded French carriage clock set in the exact centre of her aunt’s mantelpiece. The hands hadn’t moved since the last time she had looked at them. She felt as though she was condemned to remain locked in this moment and place for ever. Half past ten in the evening in her Aunt Edyth’s drawing room.

  Jenkins routinely closed all the drapes in the house at nine o’clock in summer, but ignoring Morgan’s, and even Geraint’s protests, Edyth had ordered that all the curtains in the house be left open and all the lamps lit. Even Geraint’s argument, that people curious about Mansel’s disappearance on what should have been his wedding day, might gather outside the grounds to look in through the windows, could not dissuade her. Sali understood why. If – no, not if, when Mansel returned, he would walk up the sweeping carriage drive to the house and see them sitting, waiting for his return.

  The clink of silver against china shattered the soul-crushing silence that had fallen over the room and Sali turned to see her Uncle Morgan pour himself a second cup of the tea he had requested Edyth send for, and only he had drunk. She looked anxiously at her aunt, who had remained slumped in her favourite chair next to the fire ever since they had returned from chapel at midday. Shell-shocked, grey and withdrawn, Edyth James had aged years in the space of a few hours.

  Geraint shifted uneasily beside her on the sofa and Sali gazed down at her hands. She was acutely aware of her brother’s presence, and she knew that every few seconds he gave her a surreptitious, worried look, but she couldn’t bear to receive any more sympathetic glances or empty reassurances. She and her Aunt Edyth knew Mansel better than anyone, and they had both realised from the moment his disappearance had sunk into their numbed minds that the only possible explanation was that something, or someone, had prevented him from reaching the chapel. She feared that something dreadful had happened to him. An accident or perhaps even worse ...

  ‘Mrs James.’

  Sali sat up instantly alert when Jenkins knocked and opened the double doors.

  ‘Mr Richards, Mr Horton and Sergeant Davies are here, Mrs James. Mr Richards apologised for the late hour but –’

  ‘Show them in, Jenkins,’ Edyth cut in abruptly, the strain making her terse.

  Sali knotted her fingers. Mr Richards, Mr Horton, Sergeant Davies ... Not Mansel. But then news – any news – had to be better than the terrifying vacuum in which she and her aunt had been marooned since they had discovered Mansel had vanished.

  ‘Please sit down, gentlemen. Can I offer you some refreshment?’ Despite the circumstances, Edyth exercised the manners instilled into her by a lifetime spent in polite society.

  ‘No, thank you, Mrs James,’ the solicitor replied for all of them.

  Looking distinctly ill-at-ease, Sergeant Davies and Mr Horton sat bolt upright on occasional chairs set back from the grouping of sofa and easy chairs around the sculpted marble fireplace, but Mr Richards moved his seat close to Edyth’s.

  ‘Both the town and the store have been thoroughly searched, Mrs James. As far as we have been able to ascertain, no one appears to have seen Mr James since I left him outside the New Inn Hotel last night.’

  Logic dictated the answer to her question, but Edyth still had to ask. ‘You remembered to look in his rooms above the store, Mr Richards?’

  ‘Yes, I accompanied Sergeant Davies. Mr Horton gave us a set of keys that had been cut for the workmen who had recently decorated them. We found everything in order but there was no sign of Mr James.’ Mr Richards shook his head. ‘If only I’d insisted he accompany me home from the New Inn last night. I offered him a lift to the store in my cab but he declined ...’

  ‘The store is only a few yards from the New Inn,’ Geraint interrupted, as if Mr Richards had criticised Mansel for refusing to ride in his hired cab.

  ‘We are all aware of the geography of the town, Geraint,’ Morgan observed cuttingly. ‘Did you find anything of significance in Mr James’s rooms or the store?’ He directed his question at Sergeant Davies.

  The sergeant looked to Mr Richards.

  ‘A note, a message?’ Edyth pressed urgently.

  ‘I asked Mr Horton to check the safe in the store,’ he divulged.

  ‘Everything was in order,’ Mr Horton assured her swiftly, ‘apart from the banking. Mr James usually does it first thing in the morning.’

  ‘He hadn’t?’

  ‘Not this morning, Mrs James. Of course, we balanced the store’s daily takings as usual yesterday evening, and made up the floats –’

  ‘The what?’ Morgan questioned.

  ‘The floats, Minister. We make them up at the end of the day and keep them in the safe. First thing every morning the cashiers in the store are supplied with a set amount of money with which to conduct their transactions. It used to be five pounds in copper, ten pounds in silver, and twenty in notes, the amount to be deducted from the takings at the end of the day. However trade has been so brisk lately ...’

  ‘Basically everything was order, Mrs James, apart from the fact that Mr James hadn’t done the banking.’

  For the first time in her life, Sali detected a note of impatience in Mr Richards’s voice.

  ‘As I was saying, Mrs James, Mr James usually banks the previous day’s takings first thing in the morning.’ Heeding the hard look Mr Richards sent his way Mr Horton made an effort to stick to the facts. ‘When I saw that it hadn’t been done, I naturally assumed that as it was Mr James’s wedding day he had left that chore to me.’

  ‘There is no sign that the store was broken into,’ the sergeant assured Edyth. ‘All the doors and windows were secure and Mr Horton noticed nothing out of the ordinary.’

  ‘And Mansel’s keys?’ Edyth asked.

  ‘No sign of them anywhere,’ Mr Richards revealed edgily.

  ‘His clothes?’ Edyth sat on the edge of her seat.

  ‘As I am not conversant with Mr James’s wardrobe, all I can say is that there are gentlemen’s clothes in the bedroom above the store.’ Mr Richards had thought it extremely peculiar that two of the dressing table drawers in Mr James’s bedroom held women’s underwear, but he decided it wasn’t the time or place to mention it. ‘There was also a suitcase and hat box next to the door in the drawing room.’

  ‘Mansel would have packed for his honeymoon.’ Edyth remained on the edge of her seat.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, Mrs James, but I opened both the suitcase and hatbox. Neither was locked and the keys were on the sofa table next to them. Judging by the contents, straw boaters, striped blazers, white flannels and so on, I agree. Mr James had packed for and fully intended to take his wedding trip to Swansea.’ Mr Richards glanced at Sali. Although she hadn’t joined in the conversation, he sensed she was listening carefully to every word that was being said.


  ‘There is no doubt about that.’ Edyth thought for a moment. ‘What about personal money? Yesterday afternoon he mentioned he had withdrawn cash from the bank in preparation for his honeymoon, and knowing Mansel, it would have been a considerable sum.’

  ‘Exactly how much would that “considerable sum” have been, Mrs James?’ The sergeant removed a notebook and pencil from the breast pocket of his uniform.

  ‘He didn’t mention a specific amount, Sergeant Davies, but it would have been sufficient to pay his and ...’ Edyth looked at Sali and made the decision to say the word, ‘... his wife’s hotel bill and buy any small luxuries they wanted.’

  ‘We found no money in his rooms,’ Mr Richards revealed, ‘but Mr James’s wallet was full when I met him in the New Inn yesterday evening. In fact I reprimanded him for carrying such a large amount on his person.’

  ‘It was noticeable?’ The sergeant poised his pencil over his notebook.

  ‘Yes. I commented on it when I saw him open his wallet at the bar and warned him it was unwise to carry so much money around at that time of night in town. Afterwards, Mr James took a pound note from his wallet and placed it in his pocket before securing his wallet in the inside pocket of his jacket. He explained that he had forgotten about the money and had intended to lock it in the store’s safe before meeting his friends in the New Inn but he had been so busy he had forgotten to do so.’

  ‘Could you see exactly how much money was in the wallet, Mr Richards?’ Sergeant Davies said.

  ‘All I could see was there were several notes, but I couldn’t tell you what denominations they were.’

  ‘You wouldn’t like to hazard a guess?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t,’ the solicitor replied shortly.

  The sergeant scribbled in his notebook. ‘I’ll check with the bank tomorrow.’

  ‘The Capital and Counties Bank hold Mansel’s account,’ Edyth revealed. ‘If you have any problems getting information from them, refer the manager to me.’

  ‘Miss Watkin Jones, I am afraid that I have to ask you this question and I would appreciate it if you could answer me honestly.’ The sergeant turned clumsily to Sali. ‘Have you and Mr James exchanged any cross words recently?’