by Iris Gower
He kissed her mouth and she clung to him. She loved him so much, she could never bear to be without him. He was right, they must make the most of every moment together.
‘Please, my darling husband, love me,’ she said and, as his hand found her breast, she allowed feelings and sensations to replace the thoughts and fears that had been haunting her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘I HAVE TO return to London for a week or two.’ Grantley was sitting with Eynon Morton-Edwards in the grounds of his gracious home, beneath the trees that provided a welcome shade from the sun which was high now in the summer sky.
‘Look, before you go, can I talk to you in confidence?’ Eynon was leaning forward in his chair and from the look of his young face it was clear that something was worrying him.
‘A lawyer knows when to keep his mouth shut,’ Grantley said. ‘What is it?’
‘A few days ago I received a letter from Annabel.’
‘Elizabeth’s daughter? Why on earth is she writing to you, is the girl mad?’ Grantley frowned, he had imagined that the night of passion Eynon had enjoyed was a stroke of luck for the young man but now he was not so sure. ‘She did marry, did she not?’ He saw Eynon shake his head.
‘It seems her elderly suitor took sick and died.’
Grantley felt an unsuitable urge to laugh. ‘How inconsiderate of him,’ he said dryly. ‘So what are you supposed to do about it?’
Eynon rose and thrust his hands into his pockets. He was a very handsome man, a little weak around the mouth perhaps, but with fine looks and an elegant build. It was strange he had not been caught in the web of some lady’s machinations by now. His next words startled Grantley into giving the matter his full attention.
‘She says she is expecting my child.’
‘What tosh!’ Grantley expressed his thoughts with unaccustomed frankness. ‘One night of passion and she’s with child; I just don’t believe it.’
Eynon shook his head. ‘I don’t know a great deal about these things.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t think I want to, either.’
‘Then burn the letter,’ Grantley said easily. ‘While I am in London I will try to find out exactly what is going on.’ He frowned; the last thing he wanted was for young Morton-Edwards to think he was party to a scheme to trap him into marriage. ‘It could simply be a ploy to get a ring on the girl’s finger; I wouldn’t put anything past Elizabeth. That woman can smell money a mile off.’
‘And yet,’ Eynon said, ‘I was the one to take Annabel’s virginity. Perhaps I owe it to her to meet and talk this over.’
‘I would not countenance such a meeting,’ Grantley said. ‘Can’t you see it would be tantamount to admitting guilt? No, dear boy, just leave it to me.’ He smiled as he looked at Eynon, his brow furrowed, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his summer jacket.
‘Think of it this way, you might have been the first to sup the flower but how many might there have been since? Once tasted, the honey pot of love is hard to resist.’
The French windows were pushed open and Maura came to stand in respectful silence beside the two men.
Eynon looked up at her. ‘Yes, Maura, what is it?’
‘I’m sorry to intrude, sir.’ Maura glanced uncertainly at Grantley and then her lack-lustre eyes returned to Eynon’s face. ‘There’s a young lady and her mother here to see you. They have no appointment but they won’t take no for an answer.’
‘What name did the lady give?’ It was Grantley who asked the question. Maura did not look at him again.
‘It’s a Mrs Elizabeth and her daughter Annabel, sir.’
‘All right, Maura,’ Eynon spoke before Grantley could intervene, ‘show the ladies into the drawing room. I will be there in a moment.’
Grantley felt anger build within him. ‘This is outrageous!’ he said. ‘How dare Elizabeth travel here and arrive at your door unannounced; it is most improper.’
‘What shall I say to her?’ Eynon brushed back his hair in a gesture that was almost feminine. Grantley looked at him closely: he had deflowered the pretty little Annabel without trouble. That was the problem with these artistic types, they never appeared to be very manly.
‘Let me do the talking,’ Grantley advised. ‘You can just deal with the pleasantries but when the subject turns to Annabel’s little problem, as it surely will, leave everything to me.’
Grantley followed Eynon into the house and squinted as, suddenly, the corners of the rooms seemed to be filled with shadows after the brightness of the garden. The hall smelled of flowers and beeswax and Grantley thought how wonderful it must be to live at the seaside and not be surrounded by the bustle of the London streets.
‘Good day to you, ladies.’ Eynon spoke politely enough but Grantley was pleased to see that the young man’s tone was guarded. ‘Can I offer you refreshment after your long journey?’
‘Thank you, something cold, please, it’s so damned hot!’ Elizabeth’s language was most unladylike, Grantley thought. Why did her vulgarity appear acceptable, amusing even, while in London but here, in this gentle corner of Wales, it was so out of place?
‘Ah, Grantley, my old friend, I did not realize I would find you here, too.’ Elizabeth rose and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Taking a holiday, are you?’
Grantley grunted noncommittally. Soon cooling cordial had been brought and, as Grantley took a seat, he spent a little time scrutinizing Annabel’s face and figure. The girl seemed nervous; she was very pale and only sipped at her drink. Now and then she cast anxious glances in Eynon’s direction and even Grantley, his heart hardened by the lies of many a man he had defended, felt sorry for her.
‘Now, Grantley, this is a private matter,’ Elizabeth stared at him, her eyes hooded. ‘I am sure you would not like to intrude on what is, after all, none of your business.’
‘Dear, dear Elizabeth,’ Grantley smiled. ‘I am acting as adviser to Mr Morton-Edwards. I was the one to introduce him into your company if you remember. I am acquainted with your daughter’s claims and so I shall stay.’
‘Well damn you and your lawyer’s mind then!’ Elizabeth said. She turned in her seat to face Eynon, excluding Grantley from her line of vision.
‘So, my little innocent girl is with child by you, sir. What do you intend to do about it?’ Elizabeth paused to dab at her cheeks with a scrap of lace. ‘Will you make an honest woman of her?’
‘Oh Mother, please!’ Annabel’s tone was anguished.
‘I would like to know how many lovers there have been since the night I brought Mr Morton-Edwards to your home, Annabel.’ Grantley deliberately introduced a note of sternness into his voice.
The girl darted a look at him from soft, damp eyes. ‘There has been no-one!’ she said. ‘No-one but Eynon.’
Grantley, though normally sceptical, was inclined to believe the girl. Still, that was beside the point. Her favours had been given freely on the understanding that she would marry another man. She could not now pretend an innocence and ask for marriage.
Eynon looked towards him for help. Grantley held up his hand. ‘Look, Annabel, my dear child, I believe you,’ he said. ‘I know you are a truthful girl, but Mr Morton-Edwards has met you once only. You surely do not expect him to take for a wife one who gives so freely of herself?’
‘Grantley!’ Elizabeth rounded on him. ‘How dare you put words in another man’s mouth? Mr Morton-Edwards can speak for himself, can’t he?’
‘Now, Elizabeth,’ Grantley said, ‘you have only landed yourself in trouble through your own doing. The minute you set eyes on Eynon you had him pegged as a rich man. You hoped by pushing your daughter into bed with him that he would be ripe for blackmail, confess it!’
‘You liar!’ Elizabeth said. ‘I wanted my girl to know a young man before, before her marriage to an old goat!’
‘A marriage that you arranged,’ Grantley said reasonably.
‘Stop!’ Annabel rose to her feet, her hands over her cheeks. ‘Just stop all this!’ Tears ra
n down her cheeks and she wiped them away as a child does with the back of her hand.
‘Mamma, I want to go home.’
‘No! We are going to have this out. I shall not leave here without some compensation for your troubles.’ Elizabeth’s face was almost purple with anger.
‘Oh, Mamma!’ Annabel ran to the door and flung it open. Startled, Grantley watched her departure in silence.
‘I’ll go after her,’ Eynon said and before Grantley could stop him, the boy had left the room, closing the door behind him. Grantley shrugged. ‘Well, it seems the matter has been taken out of our hands. We shall have to leave the young people to sort out this mess themselves.’
He poured himself a drink and stared morosely into the garden where he could see Eynon, his hand on the girl’s shoulder. He would marry her, that much was clear. Eynon Morton-Edwards would take on the girl out of a sense of duty and Grantley could not help but inwardly applaud the man.
‘It seems, Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘you are about to see your fondest wishes realized.’
Llinos sat staring down at her hands. She was feeling insecure now that Mr Grantley had returned to London, to pursue another case which he was handling in the assizes. Llinos was worried that, somehow, Joe’s bail would be revoked and he would be taken away from her again.
She glanced towards him as he sat with her in the summer house. She heard the wind chimes sweetly singing in the soft breeze and knew that each moment of her life with Joe must be cherished.
The sun was warm on her feet and on an impulse she kicked off her shoes and stepped outside the sun house onto the grass, her feet bare.
Joe came up behind her and untied her ribbons allowing her hair to tumble around her shoulders. ‘My little Firebird,’ he whispered, ‘my darling, my wife. Have I told you that I love you? Apart from which, you smell good enough to eat!’ He bit her ear and she slapped him away.
‘Blarney! You have a sweet tongue, my boy!’ She felt like crying. What was wrong with her? What shadows haunted her now? Joe was here, safe beside her, so why was she so fearful?
Mr Marks appeared around the corner of the house and paused when he saw husband and wife in each other’s arms.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m intruding.’ He held a piece of paper in his hand and even from where she was standing, Llinos could see that the old man was trembling.
‘Come and sit down, Mr Marks,’ she said quickly, disengaging herself from Joe’s arms. ‘Is anything wrong?’
He sat on one of the garden benches that stretched along the borders of the lawn. ‘Look,’ he held the letter towards Joe. ‘It’s from my son, he wants me to go and live with him.’ He glanced towards heaven. ‘Live with him as if nothing was ever wrong between us?’
‘Perhaps he wants to make amends for the past,’ Llinos said softly, sitting beside Mr Marks. The old man shook his head.
‘If only that was true. No, he wants my land, that’s what it is. He has found out about America and thinks he can get his hands on the deeds.’ He smiled thinly. ‘He doesn’t realize he’s too late.’
‘It’s not too late, you know,’ Joe said. ‘If you and your son do make friends you can have the land to give him as a gift. Why not invite him to visit you here? Find out if he is sorry for what he’s done in the past.’
Samuel Marks shook his head. ‘You don’t know the boy as I do. He would only cause trouble for me, for you too I don’t doubt.’
‘Just try to speak with him,’ Llinos said. ‘There were times when I hated my father. I even left home once but I came back and now I’m very glad I did.’
Samuel looked at her wistfully. ‘All right, I’ll give it one last go. I’ll agree to stay with him for a few days.’
‘Where does he live?’ Llinos asked and the old man shook open the letter.
‘By the address here, it looks as if he’s moved into a house over at Langland.’
‘It’s lovely there with the view of the sea,’ Llinos said. ‘Perhaps a holiday together would do you both good.’
‘It’s the house Saul’s bought with money he stole from me,’ Samuel said sadly. ‘But people do change sometimes, don’t they?’
He looked so small, so sad, that Llinos put her arm around his shoulders. ‘Of course they do! People mature, even sons and daughters.’ She smiled. ‘Once you’ve made up your mind, let me know and I’ll order the coach to take you to Langland.’
‘You are very kind.’ He looked up at Joe. ‘And you are very lucky to have this lovely girl as your wife.’
‘I know,’ Joe said. ‘Don’t tell her though or I’ll never hear the end of it.’
It was early the following week when Mr Marks took a reluctant leave of Llinos and Joe. He looked back from the coach, his face, framed by the window, appearing old and sad.
‘We are doing the right thing, aren’t we, Joe?’ Llinos slipped her hand through his arm and hugged it to her side. ‘We are encouraging Mr Marks to go visit his son and we have never even met Saul Marks. From what we’ve heard, he sounds a real bad lot.’
‘Quarrels can sometimes be mended,’ Joe said. ‘And, if not, at least Samuel will have tried his best. He’ll die when the time comes with an easy conscience.’
‘Do you think he’s going to die soon, Joe?’
Joe laughed and spun her round to face him. ‘Llinos, I am only a man! I do not see everything that is going to happen.’
‘Only some things,’ Llinos said, refusing to be coaxed into laughter. ‘I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling about all this. Somehow it’s going to rebound on us.’
‘Well, for now, let’s forget it,’ Joe said. ‘In any case, I thought you were going to check on the Firebird patterns; you went on about it enough last night when I was trying to get some sleep!’
‘Cheek! I did not go on about it.’ Llinos punched his arm. He caught her in his arms and kissed her. When she tried to cling he held her away. She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears.
‘What’s wrong, love?’ Joe was all concern. Llinos walked away from him towards the softly scented flower garden. The sweet peas were climbing along the back wall and the lawn was scattered with daisies.
‘I wanted our baby so much.’ Llinos heard her voice, small and shaky and hated her weakness. ‘When I miscarried, at first I didn’t believe it had happened. Even now, sometimes, I put my hand over my stomach, just here.’ Her hand fluttered over the front of her dress. ‘And I think I can feel movement. Joe, will we ever have a child?’
He took her in his arms, cradled her, and, though he kissed her hair and brushed the tears from her eyes, he did not answer her. She pushed against his broadness and looked up, straining to see his expression.
‘Answer me, Joe!’
‘The answer is in the lap of the gods, Llinos.’ His voice was soft, almost a whisper, and there was a shadow across his face so that she could not see his eyes.
‘Go on!’ he said suddenly. ‘Go see to the pottery, it won’t run itself, you know.’ He smiled but he seemed distant from her. ‘I expect Pearl’s causing havoc in the paint shed.’
Sighing, Llinos moved away from him. He was right, the future was not theirs to know. One day she might have children but for now she had Joe and that had to be enough.
‘Well, Father, I hope now you understand why I did it.’ Saul Marks stood before the imposing fireplace of his house, the house he had cheated and lied for. Samuel studied his son, wondering how the boy could convince himself so thoroughly of the rightness of his actions. He told a garbled story of how events had taken him unawares and the only way to save the business was to have it put in his own name. In order to do so he had forged his father’s signature, indicating that the old man was losing his mind. But in his smug self-satisfaction, Saul seemed to have overlooked the harm he had done.
‘I was put in prison,’ Samuel said gravely. ‘I was lucky I did not die there.’ He sipped the cordial his son handed him. It tasted bitter.
‘I would have got
you out once everything was in order,’ Saul said. His face was narrow, mean; his eyes close together. Did the boy really believe what he was saying?
‘How did you get out, anyway?’
‘You know how. Mr Mainwaring paid off the debts.’ Debts that were Saul’s, but that thought was unspoken.
‘And in return what did you give him, Father?’ Saul was trying to sound as though he was making a polite enquiry but there was a gleam in his eye that boded ill. Samuel knew, had known within minutes of coming here, that he had been wrong to do so. There was no path back to harmony with his son. Had there ever been harmony between them? Samuel doubted it.
‘He paid my debts because he was a kind honourable man.’ Samuel avoided looking at his son: Saul would be merciless in his questioning until he got what he wanted.
‘But, Father, you must have given the man something in return, some hidden cache of money, some property.’ He paused. ‘Or could it have been land you gave him, land that would one day prove valuable?’
Samuel forced a smile. ‘Where would I have land from, tell me that, boy? You have access to all my books, all my business records. How could I have anything to offer anyone? You took it all.’
‘So this man, this Indian fella, he paid your debts because he liked you, is that it?’ Saul’s tone was sneering.
‘There are kind, honest people about or have you been too busy to notice?’ Samuel saw his son’s face redden in anger and he knew he must tread warily. He rose to his feet.
‘In any case, it’s all in the past now we’re together again. I’m tired, I think it’s time I went to bed.’
Saul moved swiftly. He caught his father by his collar and shook him. ‘Tell me!’ He was spitting with anger. ‘Tell me what the bribe was or I’ll kill you.’
‘There was no bribe,’ Samuel said desperately. ‘Let me go, Saul, this is madness!’
Saul released him. ‘You are a foolish old man,’ he said bitterly. ‘Your sort are only fit for the scrap heap.’
‘What do you mean “my sort”?’ Samuel said.
‘You Jews. You are a blight on society.’ There was hate in the boy’s eyes. Then Samuel understood: he was being punished for being a Jew, just as he had always been punished by the ignorant and uninformed because of his birthright.
