by Iris Gower
‘You are not married then?’
He shook his head. ‘No I’m not married.’
‘And your lady, you do not make love to her?’
‘No,’ Eynon said sadly. ‘She belongs to another man.’
She leaned closer to him and her perfume, subtle and fragrant, seemed to wind around him. ‘Poor Eynon, so handsome, so wonderful, how could any woman refuse you?’
‘You are very sweet,’ he said, taking her hand and kissing the palm. ‘And very desirable.’
‘I am also very lonely, Eynon,’ she whispered.
‘Lonely, here?’ he said in surprise. ‘But it seems to me that London is full of life and colour.’
‘It is. Mamma protects me, she keeps me away from handsome young men and introduces me only to the old ones who have plenty of money. She wants me to make a good marriage, you see.’ She held her glass to the servant who refilled it at once. Annabel took some wine, rolling it around her mouth so that some of the ruby-red liquid clung to her lips. Suddenly Eynon bent forward and kissed her.
When he drew away, she smiled up at him. ‘We must entertain each other, don’t you think? Give each other comfort.’
‘Of course,’ Eynon said, excitement rising within him. He accepted a fresh drink from the maid hovering beside him.
‘Mother does not like me to drink too much,’ Annabel said. ‘She believes it makes me silly and childish. Does it, Eynon, make me childish, I mean?’
She leaned against him and looked up into his eyes. ‘You really are such a handsome man,’ she said without waiting for an answer to her question. ‘I think I am quite in love with you.’
Eynon drank quickly, flattered and aroused at the same time. ‘I’m sure I could easily fall in love with you too, sweet lady.’
Eynon looked around him, his brain felt fuzzy but he was experiencing the most wonderful sense of euphoria. He could see Grantley, his face red, sliding his hand under the skirt of one of the ‘ladies’ who simply smiled and moved to accommodate him. Across the room, he saw that Elizabeth was clasped in an ardent embrace, the hand of the unknown man firmly grasping her breast. This was a strange place indeed: not quite a whorehouse, not quite the respectable home Eynon had been expecting.
He became aware that Annabel was sinking back against the cushions. Her eyes fluttered as he leaned closer to her.
‘Annabel, are you all right?’ His voice sounded strange, thick, high.
She lifted her head. ‘I have drunk too much wine. Will you help me to my room, Eynon?’
His need was urgent, he could hardly breathe he was so excited. ‘Which way shall we go?’
‘Here, through the French doors into the hall.’ She leaned heavily on his arm and no-one seemed to notice their departure. Perhaps this was normal behaviour in this household, Eynon thought in confusion, and yet he was going to be alone with Elizabeth’s sweet daughter, the one she was supposed to protect. He shook his head, he could not reason any more, he was too swayed by Annabel’s nearness.
‘Upstairs,’ Annabel said, her voice faint. He grasped her around the waist, his thumb brushing the small, jutting breast and helped her up the curved staircase. ‘There’s my room.’
Eynon looked around him; the room was sumptuous by any standards. Satin quilts and pillowcases covered the large bed. Heavy drapes were drawn against the night and candles gleamed in shining holders.
‘Help me over to the bed, please.’ Annabel was swaying a little. Eynon’s grip tightened as he helped her across what seemed an interminably long stretch of carpet. She sank onto the bed and his eyes fixed on her shapely legs as the hem of her skirt rose above her knees.
‘Come on,’ she said, ‘help me unfasten my gown.’
He sat on the bed and with fumbling fingers undid the tiny buttons. The dress fell around her waist revealing her small, naked breasts and Eynon drew a quick breath. He reached out and touched her gently.
She twisted round to face him, her face flushed. ‘Hold me, Eynon,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I need you so much.’
She rested her head in the hollow of his neck and he felt her flesh against his hands. Groaning, he moved away from her.
‘I must go,’ he said, his tongue thick, ‘before we do something we’ll regret.’
She fell back against the bed, her slippers falling from her feet. ‘I want you, Eynon, I need you so much. Don’t leave me, darling, please don’t leave me.’
He slipped her dress from her and peeled down her stockings. Her skin was white as alabaster, smooth and tempting.
‘Am I beautiful, Eynon?’ she said breathlessly.
‘You are very beautiful and you know it.’
‘You know what I am, Eynon? I am a virgin in a houseful of harlots,’ she said caressing his neck. ‘I shall be married to an old man, that is what Mamma has planned and I will obey her. But first I want to feel a young, strong man possess me. Is that wicked?’ She ran her hands over his body, feeling the tension in him with a smile of pleasure.
‘You see, you want me, you desire me. Please, Eynon, please . . .’
She pressed her mouth against his. She was soft, submissive, in his arms. Eynon kissed her with passion, the flame of need was too strong for him now. He could hold back no longer.
The first time he made love to her, she cried a little and he held her, crooning soft words of comfort.
‘It will be better the next time, it won’t hurt so much, you’ll see.’
She clung to him, her face buried against his neck and he felt the tingle of protectiveness that he felt for all small creatures. It was not love but now, here in this room, in this strange town, it would suffice.
It was morning, the sun probing fingers of light into the room, light that was diffused by the drapes across the window. Eynon sat up, running his hand through his hair and beside him Annabel stirred, her naked arms touchingly thin and white in the early light. She looked up at him.
‘Eynon!’ she said softly and the sound was like a caress. ‘We made love last night!’ She sat up biting her lip. ‘How did it happen?’ She took a deep breath. ‘No need to answer, I know how it happened; my mamma put something in our drink.’ Her head sank onto her breast and her hair swung forward. ‘You didn’t really want me, it was just that you could not help yourself. You would have loved any woman, even my mother.’
‘That’s not true.’ Eynon was confused, his mouth was dry. Had he been drugged? It seemed more than likely. He became aware of Annabel’s distress and put his arm around her. ‘You are beautiful and desirable,’ he said. ‘I wanted you, can’t you see that?’
‘Make love to me again, just once, then.’ She did not look at him but he could see by the pert lift of her breast and the pink of her nipple that she was aroused. It was no hardship to do as she wished. She was pliant but with the beginnings of passion that promised great things once she was a mature woman. It pained him to think of her in the arms of an old man, but if that was her fate he could not interfere. And, in all honesty, he did not want to.
As the light became warmer and the sun rose above the horizon, Annabel led him to the room in which he had been expected to sleep. At the door, she kissed him. ‘I love you, Eynon Morton-Edwards, I will never forget you.’ Before he could speak, she had turned and hurried back along the corridor.
Inside the bedroom, he closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, his eyes closed. She had been so sweet, his first virgin, and the poor dear girl believed she loved him. He ruffled the bedclothes for the sake of appearance and then moved to the dressing room and threw off his clothes. He washed in cold water from the tall jug and, all the while, his thoughts revolved around the events of the night before.
It was clear that however innocent Annabel might be, her mother Elizabeth was a woman of easy virtue. Eynon did not condemn her for it, a lady alone and unprotected must live by whatever means she could. Still, he could have wished for a better background for her daughter. Not that Annabel meant anything to him, he woul
d return home and forget he ever met her. He knew that he desired her, he knew too that he would never love her; his love had been given to Llinos since the moment he had met her. No other woman would ever measure up to her.
At breakfast William Grantley beamed at Eynon over a huge platter of devilled kidneys and thick slices of ham. ‘Did you sleep well? I trust you did, you retired particularly early for a visitor to our fair town.’
‘I slept very well, thank you. You?’ He lied smoothly but noted the lift of Grantley’s eyebrow.
‘I slept but little, dear fellow, but my wakefulness was very joyful I assure you!’ He laughed out loud and wiped his mouth with a spotless napkin. ‘Come along, take your fill from the dishes on the sideboard or ring for the servants to bring you something hot. No point in standing on ceremony, the ladies will still be abed for some time yet.’
He speared a steaming piece of fish onto his plate: his appetite for food, as well as for the ladies, seemed insatiable. ‘Now,’ he said leaning forward and lowering his voice, ‘what did you really do last night? For I happen to know you were not in your room.’
Eynon leaned back in his chair and looked Grantley in the eye. ‘I think you are mistaken, sir.’
Grantley clapped his hands together. ‘A man of discretion, I like it.’ He paused and chewed thoughtfully and after a moment removed a bone from between his teeth.
‘But,’ he said, ‘I believe you spent the night deflowering little Annabel, did you not?’
Eynon was surprised at Grantley’s outspokenness. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling exposed and guilty at the same time.
‘Don’t worry, dear Morton-Edwards, it was with Elizabeth’s blessing, you see. Do you think you would have got away with it if my lady friend did not approve?’
Eynon was growing angry. ‘Was last night a ploy to make me marry the girl?’
‘No! Not at all!’ Grantley said. ‘I would not have allowed any such coercion, believe me. Elizabeth has promised Annabel to old Judge Messenger. He is rich and kindly, past his best if you know what I mean. But he needs an heir and will, perhaps, get one on a young, healthy girl like Annabel.’
Eynon wondered if he had been used as a stud, a means of supplying the heir to trick an old man. It occurred to him now that his meeting with Grantley had been more than just a coincidence.
‘When is the wedding?’ he asked, his voice dry. Grantley chewed another mouthful of fish before replying.
‘First thing in the morning, dear chap. By then you will be on your way back home to Swansea. Well out of it.’
Eynon rose to his feet and moved to the window. ‘Have I been used, Grantley?’ He spoke softly, though anger was raging through him.
‘Used? I don’t know what you mean. You had a good night with a sweet virgin girl, a gift that any man would give his eye-teeth for. You did not resist her, did you, sir? What you did was without coercion, you can walk away without any responsibilities.’ He paused and wiped his moustache carefully. ‘I on the other hand, am required to leave a “little something” for my night of pleasure.’
Eynon could see he would get nowhere with this man. Grantley put forward an excellent case. The way he spoke indicated that Eynon had been favoured, not tricked. He was a damn good lawyer and that, after all, had been the reason Eynon had travelled to London.
He stared up at the sky, clouds were gathering, threatening rain. He wished suddenly that he was back home. He wanted to see the river that snaked its way to the sea, he wanted the comfort of the hills folding around him. London seemed an alien place. He returned to the table.
‘I hope you act for me as well as you have acted for your lady friend,’ he said dryly, and, in the absence of any reply from Grantley, Eynon began to eat his breakfast.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LLINOS STARED THROUGH the window into the glow of an early summer day. She felt drained of all emotion, it was as though her world had come to an end. She ran her hands along the flat of her stomach: her child was gone, washed away in pain when Joe had been taken from her and put into prison. Tears misted her eyes; she knew she was being weak, women needed to be stoical, to take on life’s hardships and deal with them. But how much more could she stand without losing her mind?
She rose abruptly and moved to the window but she saw nothing of the grass outside, or of the bottle kilns rearing from behind the wall. She need not even close her eyes to see Joe, shut away in a dank and dirty cell.
‘Oh, God help us!’ She covered her face with her hands, despair engulfing her. Joe, her beloved Joe, was used to the vast plains and towering hills of his birthplace. She longed to scream and cry and rail at the heavens; to call on the Great Spirit, in whom Joe believed so fervently, to bring him back to her.
The ringing of the large brass bell on the door echoed through the house. Visitors, she could not cope with visitors. Meggie must send them away. But she did not send them away. Instead Meggie announced the two men, her eyes wide with expectation.
‘Mr Eynon Morton-Edwards and Mr Grantley come from London, Mrs Mainwaring.’
‘All right, show them in, Meggie.’ Llinos rubbed at her eyes with her fingertips and lifted her hand to her hair. She hoped she did not look too dishevelled for her first meeting with the great lawyer.
Eynon kissed her cheek and held her hands in his. ‘I hope you’re feeling better, Llinos, you’ve been through the mill, poor love.’
‘Don’t sympathize,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll only start crying again. Mr Grantley, how good of you to come all the way to Wales and at such short notice.’
The man bowed over her hand; his eyes were shrewd, they appeared to take in the entire room at a glance as though assessing the wealth and social position of its owner.
‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs Mainwaring, and please, you are not to worry, I shall have your husband freed before another night has passed.’
‘Won’t you sit down?’ Llinos sank into her chair near the window, wondering at the man’s confidence. Did he not realize that many of the stalwarts of the town were bent on keeping Joe in prison?
‘Tell me all about it, Mrs Mainwaring.’ He spoke in a low voice. ‘Every last detail of the way your husband cared for your father. Remember, what you might deem unimportant might be just the key I am searching for to unlock the prison doors.’
‘There’s not a great deal to tell.’ Llinos felt at a loss. ‘Joe brought my father home from the wars. He was a hero, he had saved my father’s life on more than one occasion, so why would he want him dead? To kill anything, even a spider, was to go against all Joe believes in.’
‘Yes, yes, I understand.’ Grantley settled back in his chair. ‘Go on.’
Llinos sighed. ‘Joe always mixed up a potion for my father. He gave it to him to ease the pain. The medicine from the doctor did nothing to help.’ Her voice broke. ‘I’ve seen my father crying bitterly. A man who had fought in the wars, who had built up a business, a man with the heart of a lion, crying because the pain was too much to bear. Only Joe had the means to take that pain away and now he’s being punished for it.’
‘This girl, the maid, the one who let us in?’ He waited until Llinos nodded. ‘She was the one to accuse your husband I believe? Now, what exactly did she hear?’ Mr Grantley appeared relaxed but Llinos could see that his eyes were narrowed, his forehead furrowed.
She chose her words carefully, feeling as though she herself were on trial. ‘That my father wanted Joe to help him die.’ She rubbed her cheeks with her palms. ‘Joe said that he had the means to do it. That was what Meggie heard.’
‘Hmn!’ Mr Grantley pushed his spectacles back into place. ‘What happened then?’
‘I was sharp with the girl; I told her she should knock before she entered the room but, as Joe pointed out, she was carrying a tray, she could hardly have knocked in the circumstances. I was anxious and so I was unreasonable, I suppose.’
‘You knew your husband’s words could be taken the wrong w
ay?’
Llinos nodded. ‘Yes, I did. After the maid had gone, I asked Joe outright would he ever consider doing what my father wanted. He said no, it was not in his faith to kill any living thing.’
‘His faith, ah, yes, your husband was brought up by American Indians, isn’t that the case?’
‘Joe was born out of wedlock to an American Indian and a white man,’ Llinos said. ‘That throws up all sorts of prejudices for a start. The fact that he used Indian lore to ease my father’s pain caused even more problems. Dr Jones was angry because Joe’s medicine worked better than his own.’
‘I see.’ A glimmer of a smile appeared on Mr Grantley’s face. ‘Mumbo-jumbo, that is what the uninformed would call such practices.’
‘Joe was often referred to as a “half-breed”,’ Llinos said, her voice bitter. ‘He’s a better man than all of them, a kind and caring man.’
‘And rich in his own right, is that correct? Far richer than your father.’
‘Well, yes, but does that matter?’ Llinos asked.
‘It matters a great deal, dear Mrs Mainwaring. It makes any claims that greed was the motive seem somewhat foolish, don’t you see?’
‘Yes, I see,’ Llinos said. ‘But then some men are never satisfied with the money they have. They always want more.’
‘Quite right but I shall prove that Mr Mainwaring was not that sort of man.’
‘How will you do that?’
‘I have my methods, dear lady. I am not known as one of London’s most successful lawyers for nothing!’
Llinos sighed, but this time with relief. She was beginning to like and trust Mr Grantley: he assumed Joe to be innocent and that was a wonderful start.
Eynon had remained silent but now he leaned forward in his chair. ‘Mr Grantley is staying with me so if there is anything you want to know or anything you want to say, just send one of the servants over for me.’
Llinos felt her mouth quivering. She had not cried properly for days but now the tears tumbled from her eyes and, embarrassed, she tried to wipe them away.
Eynon put his arm around her shoulders and Mr Grantley took her hands in his. ‘I began by telling you not to worry, Mrs Mainwaring, and that is something I shall say to you again now – do not worry!’ He smiled and dabbed at her cheeks with a huge white handkerchief. ‘Your husband will be freed from prison and home again before you know it.’
