Kingdom's Dream

by Iris Gower

  ‘Bull – just the man I wanted to see.’ Cookson held the reins of his horse taut and the animal’s head lifted in protest. ‘I’ve spoken to the board of governors and they agree with me that you’ll make an excellent manager.’ He paused and grinned. ‘You don’t seem impressed but it means more money and a house.’

  ‘I’m pleased, sir, that my work on the dig has been recognized.’ Bull’s tone was dry.

  ‘I know you’ve been running the team anyway but at least you’ll be better off now.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence in me.’

  ‘Well, Bull, you’re a man who inspires confidence. Have you any interest in the engineering side of all this?’

  ‘I certainly have, sir.’ Bull knew quite a bit about it – he had worked on enough railways to have gained an insight into what was needed. ‘I admire Mr Brunel’s viaduct – he must be a genius to have built a structure that straddles road, river and canal.’

  ‘You may even meet him when you’re a manager. Come and see me tonight down at the Castle and we’ll talk.’

  When Cookson rode away Bull thrust his fist at the sky in a gesture of victory. He felt elated: he could never become an engineer without training but the next best thing was to be a manager. He wanted to shout the news to the world, to tell everyone that he, Bull Beynon, was on his way up.

  He told Katie first. ‘I’m being promoted, Katie. What do you think of that?’ She had been to choir practice and Bull was walking her back to her new post at Caswell House where she was maid now to Mrs Dafydd Buchan. He wondered whether she would object if he took her hand.

  She turned to him, her face aglow. ‘It’s what you deserve, Bull. You’re a fine, honest worker and so well respected.’ Tentatively she slipped her hand through his arm and he swallowed hard. She was so lovely, so innocent, different from any woman he had ever known.

  ‘Katie, I know we haven’t been walking out long but you do feel that we are special together, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do, Bull!’ She smiled up at him. ‘I’m so lucky to have met you.’

  ‘Not as lucky as me.’ He turned her to face him. ‘Could I just give you one little kiss?’

  ‘Not here in the outdoors, Bull, where anyone might see us.’

  ‘You’re right, of course. I don’t know what I was thinking about.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Come on, we’re very nearly there and I’d better not keep you out too long. I don’t want anyone gossiping about you.’

  He saw the quick upturn of her eyes and smiled. ‘You’re a lady, Katie, and I respect and admire you for it.’

  Suddenly he remembered Rhiannon sitting at home waiting for him, and felt a pang of guilt. Soon, very soon, he must tell Katie about Rhiannon, and he knew in his heart it would not be easy.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Shanni stared with distaste into the windows of Howell’s Emporium at the fur cape draped over a piece of carved wood designed to look like a seat. One thing she would never own was a fur. The thought of wearing some creature’s skin repelled her. She turned away abruptly and cannoned into a slim young girl coming in the opposite direction. ‘Oh, sorry, love,’ Shanni said, as the girl’s basket fell to the ground, spilling its contents across the road. ‘I’m so clumsy! Here, let me pick up some of the fruit for you.’

  ‘Sure there’s no need of that.’ The girl was already stuffing the apples back into her basket. ‘Once they’re washed I doubt Miss Jayne will notice any difference.’

  ‘You work for Jayne Morton-Edwards?’ Shanni asked, suddenly interested.

  ‘Mrs Buchan she is now.’ The girl smiled. ‘And aren’t I tired of hearing about the wonderful wedding and all the gifts the couple got and how fine she looked?’ She glanced warily at Shanni. ‘But I shouldn’t be talking about my mistress like that. It’s not very nice of me, is it?’

  ‘Well, I’m no friend of Jayne, stuck-up madam that she is.’ They began to walk along the street and Shanni glanced at the girl, liking her on sight. ‘Been in service long?’

  ‘No, but I’m getting used to it. My name’s Katie Cullen. What’s yours?’

  ‘I’m Shanni Morgan, Mrs Pedr Morgan.’ She smiled. ‘Best of luck with your position in the Buchan household. I’ve a feeling you’re going to need it.’ She looked at Katie thoughtfully. ‘Hold on a minute, what about us having a drink in Bendle’s coffee shop? My treat,’ she added, as the girl hesitated.

  ‘Well, I don’t know.’ Katie looked around nervously. Evidently she’d had more than one taste of Jayne’s sharp tongue, if Shanni was any judge.

  ‘Come on, no one will know. Tell Madam you had to queue for the best fruit in the market.’

  Katie smiled and her face lit up. She was so pretty when she smiled: her hair was dark yet her complexion was so fair that it was almost translucent. She was dressed in plain but good clothes, and the cut of her gown was excellent. Obviously Jayne’s snobbery extended to her maid’s outfit. Clearly she intended to have the best-dressed servants in Swansea.

  ‘Right,’ Katie said. ‘Let’s go. I’m late already but I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.’

  When they were seated in a corner of the coffee shop Shanni said, ‘Look, you don’t want to be a slave to these people. Remember, we’re every bit as good as they are. It’s just that we haven’t got their money.’

  ‘But you’re married so you don’t have to work.’ Katie pushed the basket of fruit under the table, glad to be rid of the burden.

  ‘Don’t you believe it! I’d go mad if I stayed in the house all day, cleaning and polishing. I work in the office of the Llanelli Pottery for Mr Dafydd Buchan.’

  ‘Well, isn’t that a coincidence, then?’ Katie’s eyebrows rose. ‘Me a maid to the Buchans and you working for the master. It’s a small world like everyone says.’

  ‘Smaller than you think.’ Shanni smiled. ‘I’ve known Jayne since she was a girl.’

  The waiter hovered close by and Shanni gave her order in her best cultured voice. She knew it impressed folk more than any fine outfit. She noticed that Katie was looking at her strangely. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, I can’t place you.’ Katie’s face was creased with bewilderment. ‘You talk in a posh voice yet you seem like one of us.’

  ‘If by “us” you mean the downtrodden workers, then I am one of “us”.’ Shanni laughed. ‘I was given the benefit of a good education, taught my manners and how to act like a lady, but no one can change what’s inside a person. I grew up in the slums of Swansea.’

  The waiter put steaming jugs of coffee and milk on the table before Shanni.

  ‘Tell me, Katie, how did you come to be working for Jayne?’

  ‘It was by accident,’ Katie said. ‘I ran into the path of Mr Morton-Edwards’ coach and pair. He took me home and I ended up working for him. I wish I could have stayed at the Big House but Mrs Buchan wanted me to go with her.’

  ‘And Mrs Buchan gets what she wants.’ It irked Shanni to think of Jayne as Mrs Buchan: Dafydd had been Shanni’s hero, they had worked side by side, and she had to admit she was jealous of Jayne. ‘And how is Dafydd enjoying married life? Is he happy?’

  ‘He seems well enough. Very even-tempered, nice enough master. He does his best to see that the staff are fairly treated.’

  ‘Sounds like Dafydd. We were friends once and, of course, I still work for him, as I said.’ But at work she had little chance to talk to him, and even if she did how could she ask him if he was happy in his marriage? He would probably tell her to mind her own business. ‘I expect Jayne twists him around her little finger.’ There was an edge of sarcasm to Shanni’s voice.

  ‘I don’t know about that. Mrs Buchan seems thrilled and happy when the master’s around. I don’t think she’d believe he’d spend time chasing other women, though the gossips say different.’

  Shanni was sceptical: Jayne was the sort who loved herself first, but although she might seem empty-headed there was more to her. ‘I don’t
think anyone would put anything over on Jayne,’ she said, ‘she’s not half as twp as she looks.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure no one would ever want to fool her. She’s very popular,’ Katie said.

  ‘Aye – but not among the servants, I’ll bet! Still, people like her seem to have all the luck,’ Shanni said. ‘There’s Jayne with her rich papa, married to one of the most eligible men in the neighbourhood and here am I married to a potter.’

  ‘I’m sure you love your husband. Is he handsome?’ Katie was looking at Shanni’s wedding band.

  ‘Oh, yes, Pedr’s handsome.’ Shanni smiled to herself. He would come home smelling of clay and paint and he would hug her to him and kiss her passionately as he always did. ‘He’s a good husband,’ she added. ‘I’m lucky to have him, I suppose.’

  ‘And you live here in Swansea?’ Katie asked.

  ‘On the outskirts of town on the Carmarthen road. Pedr sometimes works here in Swansea but mostly he does his pot throwing in Llanelli.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get married.’ Katie said wistfully, ‘Though I’d like to, mind, but then I’d have to leave service, find a house and all sorts of things.’

  ‘A good man would see to all that for you.’ Shanni’s mind was working swiftly. ‘Why don’t you come to supper with me and Pedr one evening? I’m sure it would do you good to get out a bit.’

  ‘I don’t know if I can get time off,’ Katie said. ‘Even when the mistress is out visiting she leaves me jobs to do.’

  ‘Well, she has to let you go out sometime. Tell me, is it true that Mr Morton-Edwards saved you from a crowd of railway navvies?’ Shanni leaned across the table. ‘There was a lot of talk about it among the pottery workers.’ She studied Katie: she was not much younger in years than Shanni but in the ways of the world she was a baby.

  ‘Yes,’ Katie agreed. ‘He was wonderful – he just put me in his carriage and drove off with me. A real gent is Mr Morton-Edwards.’ She drained her cup. ‘I’d better get back.’ She rescued her basket from under the table. ‘I’ll be in for a row if I stay longer.’

  ‘Will you ask about your day off?’ Shanni asked. ‘I really would love you to have a bit of supper with us.’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Mrs Buchan.’ Katie looked worried at the prospect.

  ‘A bit of advice, ask Mr Buchan. Anyway, when are you coming to shop in town again?’

  ‘I’ll be down on market day for sure,’ Katie said. ‘Mrs Buchan always sends me to fetch the best farm vegetables.’ She got to her feet. ‘I don’t think she likes me very much – she gets me out of her way most of the time, although I’m supposed to be her personal maid.’

  ‘All the better for you, if you ask me!’ Shanni averred. ‘See you in the coffee shop this time next week, then.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  Shanni watched as the girl made her way out. Poor Katie, to be at the mercy of a selfish wretch like Jayne. Ah, well, she would do all she could to make her life a little more pleasant, and if she succeeded Katie would be released from service for ever.

  Katie hurried along the street – she could imagine her mistress’s tantrum if she had been kept waiting for her fruit. When she let herself in through the back door of the large house she breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that visitors had arrived for Mrs Buchan was happily engaged in entertaining.

  In the kitchen, Cook looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Where have you been, Katie Cullen?’ Mrs Williams asked. ‘You’ve been gone long enough to grown them apples.’

  Cook’s word was law in the kitchen but Mrs Williams was more of a martinet than ever Mrs Grinter at the Big House had been. But, Katie reminded herself, she was not a kitchenmaid, she was personal maid to Mrs Buchan. All the same, it was as well to stay in Mrs Williams’s good book. ‘I had to wait a while in the market,’ she said. ‘I don’t think the mistress would thank me for getting anything but the best.’

  ‘Aye, well, I suppose you’re right there. She can be right fussy about her food.’

  Katie went into the yard and washed the apples under the pump. Strictly speaking, it was not her job but she hadn’t forgotten the tumble they had taken. A smile turned up the corners of her lips. Thank heaven Mrs Buchan would never know that her apples had rolled all over the high street.

  ‘Give the apples to Susie there to cut up for the pie, then help yourself to some tea – it’s just been brewed,’ Cook said, when Katie came back indoors. ‘You look as if you need to sit down a bit.’

  Katie was doubtful about lingering in the kitchen. ‘Has Mrs Buchan been calling for me?’ she asked.

  ‘Duw, duw, girl!’ Cook shook her head. ‘I think the mistress has more to worry about than you. She’s got her father and that Mrs Mainwaring visiting. Now, sit down and put your feet up while you’ve got the chance.’

  Katie was grateful to slip her feet out of her shoes. It had been a long walk back from town.

  ‘Did you hear any gossip about Mrs Mainwaring when you were out?’ Cook leaned closer, not wanting the kitchenmaids to hear. ‘Rumour has it she’s still seeing our Mr Buchan.’

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Williams, I didn’t talk to anyone.’ Katie changed the subject. ‘Are the visitors staying for lunch?’

  ‘Aye, it looks like they’re staying quite a while.’ Cook thumped a piece of dough on the table, sending a spray of flour over her apron. ‘I don’t know how that Mrs Mainwaring has the nerve to go about in polite society. I know for a fact that the mistress can’t abide her, and we don’t have to think very hard to know why, do we?’

  ‘Mrs Mainwaring and Mr Morton-Edwards are good friends, though, aren’t they?’

  Cook looked at her curiously. ‘You’re not thinking there’s something going on between those two, are you? Cos there’s not. It’s true Mr Mainwaring has gone off to America with the elder boy but that don’t mean Mr Morton-Edwards would take advantage.’

  ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t. I wasn’t meaning anything like that, Cook.’

  ‘Well, all right, then, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr Mainwaring stayed out there in America for good rather than face the scandal of his wife’s brazen ways.’

  Katie concentrated on her tea, not wanting to involve herself in kitchen gossip, which spread like wildfire even if there was no truth in it. ‘He’s a lovely gentleman, is Mr Morton-Edwards,’ she said at last. ‘I can’t see him doing anything wrong, can you, Cook?’

  ‘We all like to think that,’ Mrs Williams cut the dough into circles large enough to fill a pie dish, ‘but he’s a man for all that and likes his comforts.’ She placed apple slices on top of the pastry. ‘Aye, fair play, mind, you fetched a lovely bit of fruit.’

  Katie wanted to smile. If Mrs Williams knew the truth she’d throw a fit. ‘I’m glad they’re not bruised or anything. I picked them out very carefully,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Taught by your mammy, I ‘spects,’ Mrs Williams said, eyeing her curiously. ‘You’re from a respectable family, Katie. The Cullens were well thought of round these parts. Irish they may be but they were good honest souls for all that.’

  Cook had no idea she was being patronizing: she spoke genially and meant well.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Williams. My mam would have been so pleased to hear you speak so kindly about us. By the way, Mrs Williams, when do I have a day off? I’d like to visit some of my friends up in Greenhill sometime.’

  ‘Good heavens, you only just got here, girl, and you talking about a day off! You’ll ‘ave to wait till the mistress tells you, like the rest of us do.’

  Katie put down her cup. It was time she went upstairs and made herself useful by sorting out fresh clothes for her mistress. The duties of a personal maid were not onerous but Katie was at Mrs Buchan’s beck and call.

  ‘I’d better get on. Thank you, Cook, for the tea. It was most welcome.’

  ‘I should think so. Not many servants get the privilege of real tea like we do. No one can complain that the master’s penny-pinching.
’

  ‘No indeed,’ Katie agreed.

  It was a relief to slip up the wide, curving stairs to the bedroom occupied by her mistress. It seemed strange to her that the master and mistress had separate rooms: her own parents had slept in the same bed.

  It was peaceful in the bedroom, with the bright sun shining in through the windows, splashing the silk covers with vibrant colour. Katie saw that the dressing-table was littered with an array of bottles and boxes; it was easy to see that Mrs Buchan had been forced to get herself ready to meet her guests. Katie made a wry face. Would she pay for her absence later?

  She began to clear up the clutter, putting perfumes and creams away in the small drawers of the dressing-table. This was the part of the job she enjoyed. She did not mind mopping up after Mrs Buchan when she had used all the water in the jug and spilt most of it over the washstand and she did not mind gathering up discarded clothes and taking them down to the laundry room. What did bother her was listening to Jayne talk about her husband, and how that witch Llinos Mainwaring had got her claws into him.

  Suddenly the door opened and Jayne swept into the room. She sat on the bed and kicked off her shoes. ‘Thank heavens that’s over. It was the longest lunch I’ve ever had to endure. I do wish Father wouldn’t bring that woman over here. He knows how I feel about her.’

  Katie thought it politic to remain silent. She saw that the fire was getting low and picked up the tongs to place coals strategically over the dying embers.

  ‘And what did you do with yourself this morning?’ Jayne asked, with unusual curiosity.

  ‘I just did the shopping, Mrs Buchan.’

  ‘But did you speak to anyone? For heaven’s sake, girl, talk to me. You’re not dumb, are you?’

  Katie mulled it over in her mind. Should she tell the mistress about her meeting with Shanni Morgan? Surely it could do no harm.