Beggars and Choosers

by Catrin Collier

  Acutely conscious of Owen monitoring every word being said, she murmured, ‘Yes.’

  ‘You are aware of the dowry your father left you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mr Bull has applied for it to be paid to him. I suggested that it should be used to set up a trust fund for you and any children of this marriage.’

  ‘A suggestion I am opposed to,’ Owen interrupted. ‘I am head of this household and I handle my family’s financial affairs.’

  ‘Are you happy with that arrangement, Mrs Bull?’ Mr Richards probed gently.

  Mr Richard’s caring concern coming after a month of contempt, hostility and abuse from Owen was more than Sali could bear. She stifled a sob.

  ‘As you see, Mr Richards, my wife is incapable of conducting a normal conversation, let alone making a considered decision about her financial affairs.’

  ‘Your wife looks ill, Mr Bull,’ Mr Richards commented tersely.

  ‘I agree, but without a maid to fuss over her, she has let herself go. Most days, I or my sister have to remind her to wash herself and comb her hair.’

  Ashamed and embarrassed of her filthy state and unkempt hair, Sali tried to brush it away from her face with her fingers. ‘I am all right, really, Mr Richards,’ she protested unconvincingly, terrified of what Owen might do to her after Mr Richards left, if she said anything else.

  ‘Are you?’ Mr Richards gazed at their miserable surroundings.

  She wondered if her Uncle Morgan had told Mr Richards why he’d married her off so suddenly. Surely it had to be blatantly apparent to everyone in Pontypridd by now. Bitterly ashamed of her state and her condition, unable to lie to a man she had known and respected all her life, she gazed down at her lap.

  ‘You assured me that once you had seen and talked to my wife, you would release her dowry. Well, you have seen her.’ Owen left his chair, effectively putting an end to the visit.

  ‘You are determined to ignore my advice about setting up a trust fund, Mr Bull?’ Mr Richards made one last attempt to persuade Owen to change his mind.

  ‘From my understanding, my wife’s late father attached no conditions to the payment of the dowry.’ Owen towered over the elderly man seated at his table.

  Refusing to be intimidated, Mr Richards left the chair and faced Owen. ‘You may pick up the cheque from my office next week.’

  ‘I have already waited one month. It would suit me to receive it sooner.’

  ‘The late Mr Watkin Morgan invested the money in a high-interest fund that requires notice.’

  ‘There is interest to be paid?’ Owen puckered his lips and his small, mean features disappeared into folds of fat.

  ‘None,’ Mr Richards replied flatly. ‘The money in the investment account has been set aside to cover family trusts and dowries besides Mrs Bull’s. The three thousand pounds is a single, once only payment, which is why I consider it vital you set up a trust fund.’

  ‘I will decide how best to support my wife, Mr Richards.’

  ‘None of us knows what lies ahead, Mr Bull.’

  ‘How is my aunt?’ Sali enquired, desperate for news but even more concerned that Mr Richards didn’t provoke Owen any more than he already had.

  ‘Of course, you wouldn’t know, Mrs Bull.’ He smiled at her. ‘She is out of her coma. Her speech is affected and she has limited movement in her right arm, but the doctor is cautiously optimistic that she will make progress. She will never be quite the same as before, but he is confident of a partial recovery. She would be delighted to receive a visit from you.’

  ‘My wife does not go out into society, Mr Richards.’

  ‘Surely a visit by your wife to her aunt cannot be classed as going out into society, Mr Bull?’

  ‘Given my wife’s circumstances, it is out of the question,’ Owen snapped.

  ‘Please, Mr Richards,’ Sali begged, ‘tell Aunt Edyth that I was asking after her and give my love.’

  ‘I will.’ Mr Richards took his hat from the table and placed it on his head. ‘As Mrs Bull’s guardian, may I call on her, again, Mr Bull?’

  ‘My wife is of age, and no longer requires a guardian to oversee her affairs, so any visit would be inappropriate, Mr Richards. As you see, her circumstances have changed. We live very quietly and simply.’

  ‘If you ever need anything, anything at all, Mrs Bull, you know where to find me.’ Mr Richards took her hand into both of his and shook it warmly.

  ‘Goodbye, Mr Richards, and thank you for bringing me news of my aunt.’ Sali sank to her knees as Owen closed the door behind him and Mr Richards. Picking up the scrubbing brush, she set about the stain again, in the hope that Owen wouldn’t return for another hour, by which time she might have lifted the smears from the unvarnished wood.

  ‘Sali?’

  She turned to see Owen standing behind her.

  ‘Whose house is this?’

  ‘Yours, Owen.’ Her hands shook and her heart beat faster.

  ‘Then why did you offer Mr Richards tea?’

  ‘I didn’t think ...’ She fell silent.

  ‘You didn’t think! You never think!’ He slammed his fist on the kitchen table, sending the cutlery rattling in the drawer. ‘I take you into my home. I give you and the bastard you are carrying a roof over your heads. I feed and clothe you. I give you my name and hold myself up to ridicule by conferring respectability where there should be only scorn and disgust. I allow you to live with my brother and my sister, exposing them to your corrupt and sinful ways and how do you repay me?’ Red-faced, livid, he glared at her. She knew he expected an answer but all she could do was hang her head. ‘Into the bedroom.’

  Tears rolled down her cheeks and she hung back.

  ‘Even now, when I am trying to teach you the error of your ways, you dare to disobey me. Into the bedroom,’ he repeated.

  She led the way; he walked in behind her and closed the door. ‘You know what to do.’

  Eyes downcast she removed her drawers and knelt on the bed. He threw back her smock and petticoats, exposing her buttocks. Then he unbuckled his belt.

  Afterwards, when he was buttoning his trousers, he asked, ‘What is a wife’s first duty?’

  ‘Obedience,’ she muttered, choking back her sobs.

  ‘May God forgive you for your denial of his ways and lead you back to the paths of righteousness. Tonight you will pray, naked and on your knees for one hour. Perhaps that will teach you the humility you so sorely need.’

  ‘Thank you for coming to see me, Mrs Williams. I appreciate it couldn’t have been easy for you to get away. Please sit down.’ Edyth James indicated the easy chair set across the hearth from her own in her drawing room. ‘Will you ask the maid to bring us some tea please, Jenkins?’

  Ill-at-ease at being treated as a visitor by one of the gentry, Mari sat awkwardly and looked shyly across at Edyth. The old woman’s skin was so pale it was translucent and every vein could be seen beneath its parchment surface. Thin to the point of skeletal, she half-sat, half-lay, against the pillows propped against the backrest of her chair. Her feet were propped on a stool, her legs covered by a plaid travelling rug, but despite her fragility, there was strength and resolution in the way she held herself and a determined sparkle in her deep blue eyes. Mari suddenly understood why Sali loved her so much. A woman who had the courage to fight a stroke wouldn’t baulk at defending someone she loved, even if it meant crossing Morgan Davies.

  ‘How are you, Mrs James?’ Mari enquired, as a parlour maid wheeled a tea trolley on to the hearthrug between them.

  ‘Fighting,’ Edyth answered dryly. ‘Not fighting fit yet, but battling to get there. Leave us please, Davies,’ Edyth ordered the girl. ‘Mrs Williams will serve me.’

  The girl curtsied and closed the door behind her.

  ‘Have you seen Sali?’ Edyth asked, as soon as they were alone.

  ‘I have tried, but Mr Bull keeps her in the house. Tomas and I have called in the shop several times, but if Mr Bull sees us he asks
us to leave, and he has instructed his brother and sister not to allow anyone upstairs. Unfortunately, we have no excuse to go to Mill Street other than to visit Sali, since Mr Morgan has taken on the responsibility of dealing with the tradesmen and ordering in the household goods.’

  ‘Hasn’t Morgan Davies anything better to do than play housekeeper to Danygraig House?’ Edyth enquired acidly.

  Mari would have loved to have commented, but remembering her position, refrained. ‘I tried to give Mr Bull’s sister a letter for Miss Sali but she wouldn’t take it.’

  ‘Has anyone seen Sali?’ Edyth looked impatiently at Mari. ‘I know it’s not done for a housekeeper to criticise those regarded by some as her betters, but you have my word that nothing you say within these walls will go any further. This is Sali we are talking about, Mrs Williams. And I know that you are as fond of her as I am.’

  ‘She couldn’t be more precious to me if she was my own flesh and blood,’ Mari burst out fervently. ‘And when I think of the way Mr Morgan spirited her out of the house and married her off to that butcher, I could strangle him with my bare hands.’

  ‘If only Sali had come here,’ Edyth murmured disconsolately.

  ‘None of us thought you were going to recover,’ Mari observed bluntly.

  ‘Has anyone seen Sali since Mr Richards visited her last October?’ Edyth pressed.

  ‘Master Geraint, Master Gareth and Miss Llinos wanted to see her when they came home at Christmas. Mr Morgan wouldn’t hear of it and forbid them to go near Mill Street, but Miss Sali did send them a letter on Christmas Day. No presents, just a letter. Master Geraint knew how worried I was about her so he showed it to me. It was her writing all right, I’d recognise it anywhere, but it didn’t sound a bit like her and at the bottom of the page there was just one line – “Remember me to the servants.” Not a word about Tomas or me, just that.’

  ‘What is the gossip in the town?’ Edyth looked Mari in the eye. ‘Come on, Mrs Williams, I know Pontypridd, there is bound to be some and if you don’t tell me, no one else will. Mr Richards was dreadfully upset when he saw Sali, but he has had no success in trying to see her since. Morgan refuses to visit me and won’t allow Sali’s brothers or sister here either. That only leaves you and Tomas.’ Edyth sank back on to her pillows. ‘Forgive me if I’m asking too much, I know you risked your job to come here. It couldn’t have been easy for you to get away this evening and I am grateful.’

  ‘Even I am entitled to a night off every fortnight, Mrs James, although to be honest I wouldn’t have risked it if Mr Morgan was in town.’

  ‘He’s away?’ Edyth enquired.

  ‘In Cardiff at a Methodist conference.’ Mari poured two cups of tea. ‘You take milk and sugar, don’t you, Mrs James?’

  ‘Two sugars, please.’

  Mari handed her a cup of tea, took one of the crumpets and set it on a plate.

  ‘My appetite isn’t what it used to be, but don’t let that stop you from eating,’ Edyth demurred.

  ‘It doesn’t seem right to eat in front of you, Mrs James.’

  ‘Please, you do me an honour by being my guest, Mrs Williams. I am not short of visitors but I have no one, apart from Mr Richards, with whom I can discuss Sali.’

  ‘I’ve heard that Miss Sali and Mr Bull’s sister live in fear of him and it’s common knowledge that he bullies his half-witted brother unmercifully because everyone who goes to Penuel Chapel has seen him doing it.’

  ‘Who told you that Mr Bull’s sister and Sali are afraid of him, Mrs Williams?’

  Mari hesitated before blurting, ‘Mrs Hughes, the tanner’s wife who lives next door to Mr Bull’s shop.’

  ‘She has seen Sali?’

  ‘In the yard, but not to talk to. She told me she looks very poor in all ways and Mr Bull works her half to death. He makes no allowances for her ...’ Mari paused, ‘condition.’

  ‘Could she talk to Sali?’

  ‘Mr Bull doesn’t allow anyone to go near Sali except his brother and sister. But Mrs Hughes does talk to Mr Bull’s sister, Rhian, sometimes. I tried giving Mrs Hughes a letter and money to pass on to Miss Sali but she wouldn’t take it, no more than Mr Bull’s sister would. She said Owen Bull watches every single thing that goes in and out of that house like a cat at a mouse hole and if he suspected someone was passing on any extras to his sister or Sali, it would ... it would ...’

  ‘What, Mrs Williams?’

  ‘It wouldn’t go well with them,’ Mari answered evasively.

  ‘He beats them?’

  Mari bit her lip. ‘Mrs Hughes said that sometimes late at night and especially at weekends they hear cries coming from the Bulls’ house. They even wake the children.’

  Edyth clenched her fists. ‘And she’s never thought to call the police?’

  ‘They wouldn’t interfere, Mrs James. Not between husband and wife or a man and his family. And everyone suspects that the baby Sali is carrying is Mr Mansel’s.’

  ‘If she is with child, then of course the child is Mansel’s,’ Edyth said warmly.

  ‘Mrs Hughes said there’s no doubt about it. The last time she saw Miss Sali ... Mrs Bull, she was big in the way.’

  ‘If only Mansel were here,’ Edyth cried impotently. ‘I can’t understand where he could possibly be ...’ She looked keenly at Mari. ‘There is something else, isn’t there?’

  Mari set down her teacup.

  ‘It’s about Mansel isn’t it?’ Edyth asked perceptively.

  ‘You know what people are. They love to gossip. I for one don’t believe it for a minute.’

  ‘What is it, Mrs Williams?’ Edyth interrupted. ‘Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than lying here day after day wondering if he’s alive or dead. And if he is alive, what could possibly have driven him away, leaving Sali to face Morgan Davies alone?’

  ‘There’s a girl, Mary Jones. She’s just come back to Pontypridd after spending two years in London. She used to work in the store. She’s not married and she has a three-year old son ... and ...’

  ‘And she says the boy is Mansel’s.’ Edyth’s eyes clouded in misery.

  ‘You know?’

  Edyth stared into the fire and watched the flames lick around the coals. Mr Richards had tried to shield her, but after her husband’s death she had learned to read account books and seen the payments marked in the store’s ledgers. Pensions of five shillings a week paid to young women who had worked there for no more than a year or two, when men who had given over twenty years’ service to the business left with nothing. Girls she had seen in her husband’s office. Girls he had smiled at in her presence and later sworn meant nothing to him.

  Her husband had loved her, she never doubted that, but she had been forced to accept that she had never been quite enough for him. And when she had checked the store’s accounts eighteen months after Mansel had taken over, there had been two new pension payments carefully detailed and marked ‘miscellaneous’ by Mr Richards in the hope that she wouldn’t pry. But she had pried, and confronted Mansel with the evidence of his philandering. Telling him in no uncertain terms that the example his uncle had set him was wrong and he couldn’t expect any decent woman to marry him while he continued to seduce young girls.

  He had sworn he would change his ways and shortly afterwards had begun to pay attention to Sali. And there had been no more payments, not in the two years before his disappearance. Years during which he had been totally and completely in love with Sali to the exclusion of all others, she was sure of it.

  ‘I know about Mary Jones,’ Edyth confessed wearily. ‘But Mansel swore to me when he began to court Sali that he had given up other women. And I believed him. They were happy together and he was looking forward to settling down. But with hindsight, perhaps I should have said something to Sali to warn her in case she heard something about this woman and her child ...’

  ‘What could you have said?’ Mari asked practically. ‘And even if she heard the rumours, I doubt that Miss Sali would have thought any
the less of Mr Mansel for something he did before they became engaged. Young men make mistakes and the ones with money in their pockets will always turn the heads of pretty young girls with none. It’s human nature. And with a young man as good-looking as Mr Mansel ...’ Mari only just stopped herself from saying ‘was’, ‘who is to say who did the chasing? By all accounts this Mary Jones is a right baggage, out for whatever she can get.’

  ‘Do people really think Mansel left town because she came back?’

  ‘Only the ones who don’t think. As Tomas said, why would Mr Mansel leave town when he had more than enough money to pay the girl to keep quiet?’

  ‘Mary Jones has been and is being well paid.’ Edyth moved restlessly in her chair. ‘But this doesn’t help Sali. There has to be something I can do. I could visit her ...’

  ‘You are not well enough to go out, Mrs James, and even if you were, Mr Bull would only turn you away the same he has everyone else.’

  ‘There has to be a way to get in touch with Sali.’

  ‘None that I can see, Mrs James. She never leaves the house. Not even to go to chapel.’

  ‘The doctor,’ Edyth said eagerly. ‘He must visit her.’

  ‘I doubt anyone down that end of Mill Street can afford to call him out and certainly not for a baby. They make do with a midwife and there are several of those in town. One or two drink more than is good for them and all of them like a good gossip. You give a letter to a midwife to pass on to Miss Sali and everyone in Pontypridd will know about it in a week.’

  ‘If Owen Bull won’t allow his wife to receive a letter, perhaps he’ll read one from me,’ Edyth persisted earnestly.

  ‘Be careful, Mrs James,’ Mari warned. ‘From what Mrs Hughes told me, an act of kindness to Sali could result in her being treated worse by Mr Bull than she already is.’

  ‘You can’t expect me to simply stand back and do nothing while Owen Bull works the girl half to death, while doing God only knows what else to her.’

  ‘No, Mrs James. All I’m saying is you have to tread very cautiously. For Sali’s sake.’