by Iris Gower
Mrs McCabe looked John over carefully, her eyes steady as they met his, and John had the feeling she was not so easily convinced as her husband. Mrs McCabe suspected that his motives were engendered by self-interest more than anything and in that she was right. John knew he would just have to try harder to win her over. For all he knew, she might be the real power in the household.
‘I think you should all know something about my background,’ he said, but he directed his remark towards Mrs McCabe. ‘My father was a very rich businessman in Cornwall and when I was a child I was given every advantage in life. Sadly, my father’s death brought his financial problems out into the open and the result was that the Pendennis family lost everything.’
He smiled disarmingly. ‘But I am young and strong, and I intend to make my way in the world and what better way to begin than to work for a man as successful as Dan McCabe?’
His words were heartfelt and even Mrs McCabe flashed him a smile of approval. That he admired her husband was obvious and, for the moment, that was enough for her. He was on his way to being accepted as part of a rich, successful family and to John, alone in the world as he was, it was a good feeling.
The sessions were held with a minimum of fuss in the old courtroom. Llinos sat on the scarlet upholstered chair near the back of the chamber, her hands clasped in her lap. Joe stood up before the judge, his head high, his blue eyes clear and direct as they looked straight ahead.
The judge spoke, his voice even, unconcerned. ‘Dr Jones has decided to withdraw his complaint against Mr Mainwaring. It seems he lacks evidence to support his claims that Captain Savage was unlawfully killed. Therefore, it is my duty to dismiss this case forthwith.’
The usher indicated that the court should rise but Llinos, unable to believe that Dr Jones had finally accepted defeat and that Joe was a free man, remained seated. Her legs were trembling, she felt sick with relief. She looked at Joe and he met her eyes, telling her with his unspoken thoughts, that it was over, justice had been done.
It was only when Grantley took her arm and helped her towards the door that Llinos began to cry.
‘There, there, dear lady, it’s over, your husband is free.’ Mr Grantley patted her shoulder awkwardly. ‘Nothing more to worry about.’
Joe was allowed out through another door and soon he joined Llinos and Mr Grantley at the front of the courthouse.
‘Why did the judge rule that the case fell through?’ Joe asked. ‘Surely the man had no evidence.’
‘The law is strange, a judge might have looked upon the titbits of information that the doctor tacked together as evidence. Still, he saw sense in the end, saw that to go to court would only expose him as a dishonourable man, a man who beguiled an old lady into leaving him her estate. He didn’t want to be run out of town so he gave up his foolish vendetta.’
Llinos slipped her arm around Joe’s waist and pressed her head against his shoulder. ‘Let’s go home, please,’ she said, aware of the crowd that was staring at the scene as though still expecting some sort of public punishment of the man they saw as a murderer.
She climbed into the coach and Joe climbed in beside her. She leaned against him, wanting to be alone with him so that she could hold him close and convince herself that he was safe.
Mr Grantley sat opposite them and leaned back against the creaking leather seat, sighing in satisfaction. ‘That’s a good job over and done with,’ he said. ‘I thought the man would stop making foolish accusations once he was reminded that anyone can make a mistake, even him.’
‘I did not make a mistake,’ Joe said quietly. ‘I gave Lloyd medicine to cure his pain, that was all I did.’
‘I know that as you do,’ Grantley said. ‘But the people of the town chose to think differently. Anyway, you are out of the woods now, it’s all settled.’
Llinos closed her eyes, knowing in her heart that the lawyer was wrong. Joe might have escaped prison, even perhaps the hangman, but in the eyes of the townspeople he would always be guilty.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
IT WAS GOOD to step back onto Welsh soil. Watt stared around him at the soft hills rising around Swansea and took a deep breath of the air permeating the docklands that smelled of tar and salt.
America was a wonderful place, a place of opportunity, of sunlight, of rich food and friendship, but for all that it was Swansea where his heart lay. It was here Lily lived, where Llinos and Joe lived, where everything was familiar. It was the place of his birth.
John had been a fool to stay in America and Watt wondered if Llinos had received his letter telling her and Joe of his change of plans. They would both understand, that was the trouble, they were good, kind people and John had let them down.
As he trudged up the road heading towards the potteries, Watt looked around him with fresh eyes. He saw the tall grimy buildings, the narrow streets, the fast-flowing river and felt love envelop his heart. He belonged here and now that he had made up his mind that he would not live abroad perhaps Lily would have grown up a little in his absence. It was just possible that she had missed him and realized what he meant to her.
‘Watt!’ Llinos hurried across the yard, her hair flying, her face wreathed in smiles. He hugged her and she clung to him smelling of paint and clay and the sweet scent of lavender. Then, as Watt kissed her cheek, he knew he was truly home.
‘Let me look at you!’ Llinos put her small hands on his cheeks and stared up at him. ‘You’re so brown, so healthy looking.’ She hugged him again. ‘It’s wonderful to have you back, I thought you might stay and settle in America like John and I would never see you again. Thank goodness you didn’t.’
She pulled at his coat sleeve. ‘Come into the house, get washed and changed and I’ll see you get something to eat. You must be starving!’ She laughed with something of the old Llinos in her eyes. ‘Then you can tell me all about your wonderful adventure.’ She glanced past him and he turned to see Lily standing at the door of the paint shed. She was smiling, she was actually pleased to see him. He hesitated.
‘Give me just a minute.’ He smiled. ‘I want to say hello.’
‘I’ll tell Joe you are here and we’ll wait for you indoors.’ Llinos swept away towards the house and, slowly, Watt moved to where Lily was standing.
‘You look different,’ she said, her eyes taking in the golden tan and the streaks of sunlit hair.
He did not touch her but he was breathless at her beauty; he had forgotten how lovely Lily was. He had forgotten, too, his reservations about her coldness. They were all swept away by the light of welcome in her eyes.
‘I’m sure you’ve grown taller, Watt,’ she said. ‘You’re towering over me.’ She looked up at him with unaccustomed coyness. ‘And did you meet any beautiful American ladies?’
‘I certainly did.’ Watt smiled. ‘The place where I stayed was full of them!’ He was only half-teasing and she seemed to realize it.
‘But you didn’t . . . like any of them, did you?’
‘I liked them well enough,’ Watt said, ‘and admired their looks, but not half as much as I admire yours, Lily.’
She blushed charmingly and Watt felt his old longing for her return a hundred fold. He smiled down at her.
‘I must go in and get washed and changed but could I call on you this evening, Lily? Would you like that?’
She gave him a quick look from under her lashes. ‘Of course I would. Come to the lodging house later on,’ she said. ‘I’ll meet you outside the door and we’ll have a little stroll down to the river. Is that all right?’
All right? Watt could have thrown his hat into the air for joy. He felt as if he was sailing across the yard towards the doorway of Pottery House and, once inside, he dropped his bag on the floor and took a deep breath of the familiar scents of beeswax and candles. Llinos was at his side in moments.
‘The maids have a bath ready for you,’ she said. ‘I’ve sprinkled some rose water in it for you.’ She smiled. ‘So that you’ll smell nice for your meeting w
ith Lily.’
Watt tweaked her nose. ‘You don’t miss much, do you?’
‘Not much,’ she agreed.
When he entered the dining room, it was to find quite a gathering there. Mr Marks sat next to Joe’s sister, Charlotte, who looked flushed and animated. Eynon Morton-Edwards was there too along with a lady who was clinging to his arm in a most possessive way.
Supper was served with quiet efficiency and Watt scarcely had time to put a mouthful of hot vegetable soup to his mouth when he was inundated with questions.
‘Is America as big as they say?’ Samuel Marks leaned forward in his chair. ‘I hear the land is full of milk and honey, is that right?’
‘America is vast, you could travel for weeks and not see another human being. I don’t know about milk and honey but everyone out there seems very rich.’
‘What about the land?’ Joe spoke quietly. ‘The parcel I asked you to survey for me.’
‘Fine land.’ Watt was a little embarrassed. ‘Rich land, but not a good place for a pottery, I don’t think. It’s mostly inhabited by Indians. Anyway, it’s not close enough to water.’
‘Well that figures.’ It was Mr Marks who spoke. ‘It was their land before the white man went there.’
Watt sighed. ‘I think that’s what most folk reckon, the settlers as much as anyone else. But, on the other hand, the Indian people make their own pots, they wouldn’t want ours.’
Watt saw Mr Marks grimace at Joe. ‘Sorry, looks like I gave you something that’s not worth a light.’ He shook his head. ‘But then, it’s early days yet, towns have a habit of spreading ever outwards, look at Swansea.’
‘There is a very successful pottery in Troy,’ Watt said, ‘owned by Dan McCabe. That’s who John Pendennis is staying with.’
Llinos nodded. ‘I see. Is it very different to our pottery, Watt?’
Watt shrugged. ‘They make pots in very much the same way as we do here, no porcelain though, not like you manufacture, Eynon.’
Eynon leaned forward, his fair hair falling over his forehead; he seemed to have matured, Watt thought. He smiled inwardly: in spite of the lady at his side, Eynon Morton-Edwards still had eyes only for Llinos.
‘As to the porcelain,’ Eynon said, ‘I’m giving up my attempt to create the perfect body. I’m selling off the white to some of the Worcester factories.’
Watt looked at him in surprise. Why did Eynon not allow his own painters to finish the job with the porcelain decoration and make a bit of money on it himself? Eynon met his gaze.
‘I’ve allowed one or two of the older workers to have some of the white. A couple have their own muffle kilns and will do a fine job of decorating and make a bit of money for themselves into the bargain.’
‘Was it such a failure, then?’ Watt asked, feeling it was sad that such a wonderful venture was coming to nothing.
‘Most of the good stuff shattered in the kiln. The revised bodies were not so perfect, tougher yes, but the paste was an unpleasing colour. Instead of duck egg, it was turning brownish. We will sell it, no doubt, but I have had it all stamped with the trident mark to set it apart from the better stuff.’
‘It all sounds so fascinating,’ Charlotte said softly and Llinos turned to her apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, we are all rude to talk about business. I’m sure you must be bored with it all.’ She gave the men a warning glance, indicating that they should change the subject.
The conversation became general and, after a time, Watt saw Mr Marks turn to Charlotte with obvious relief and fall into a quiet discussion with her. Llinos was talking to Eynon’s lady, asking how she was feeling and Joe smiled at Watt and winked. He mouthed the words, ‘We’ll talk later,’ and Watt blinked, thinking of his meeting with Lily.
By the time the steamed pudding was served, Watt was feeling distinctly full. Onboard the ship that had brought him home he had eaten frugally, as did the captain and the entire crew. He tasted enough pudding to be polite and waited impatiently for Llinos to take the ladies into the sitting room where they would probably discuss more frivolous matters like silks and ribbons. Llinos would put up with it but Watt knew she would as soon stay and discuss the process of potting with the men.
When the ladies eventually left the room it was Mr Marks who was the first to speak. ‘So you don’t think the land is worth much, then?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Watt hedged. ‘It’s good land, plenty of it. How did you acquire it, if it’s not a rude question?’
‘The deeds were willed to me by an explorer friend of my father’s. I suppose no-one has thought of inhabiting it in years. Sorry, Joe, it doesn’t sound too good.’
‘I’ll be patient.’ Joe was smiling. ‘Don’t worry, Samuel,’ he said to Marks. ‘I have a gut feeling that that land is going to be very valuable one day. Maybe not for building a pottery but America is a land of great mineral resources and, as you said, Samuel, it’s early days yet.’
It seemed an eternity before Watt was able to excuse himself and leave the house. When he did, he made his way swiftly down to the lodging house where Lily lived. She was there, sitting in the open doorway, her eyes large as they looked up at him.
‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ she said. ‘I thought perhaps you remembered you’d fallen in love with some rich American lady.’
‘Never.’ Watt held out his hand and drew her to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s walk.’ He was aware of eyes watching him though he could see no-one framed in the small paned windows. He shivered and Lily looked up at him.
‘A goose walking over your grave?’ she asked with a hint of laughter in her voice. He took her hand, expecting her to snatch it away. She seemed to withdraw a little and then she relaxed and let him lead her down towards the river. He knew better now than to take further liberties; she was sweet and virginal, not used to the ways of men. She had been brought up in an orphanage as he had, knowing no mother or father, only the rough justice of the guardians who watched over the children. There the Bible had been used to chastise, the words falling hard, like stones. Lily had been a delicate girl. Was it any wonder she shunned any show of affection?
‘Are you glad to be home, Watt?’ Her soft voice seemed to reach out to him in the darkness. He could smell the perfume of her and felt his heart swell with happiness.
‘I am now,’ he said, his voice gruff. They sat on the bank and stared into the water. The moon was growing in strength as the darkness gathered in. The water ran silver towards the sea.
‘Tell me all about it, then?’ she urged, tugging at his sleeve. He looked down at her, longing to hold her in his arms, but a voice inside his head warned him that he must tread carefully.
He talked of John’s preoccupation with the idea of becoming rich. ‘He’s going to work for Dan McCabe,’ Watt said. ‘I expect he’ll end up married to one of the daughters the way Binnie did.’ As soon as the words were spoken, he wished he could snatch them back.
‘Binnie?’ Lily asked. ‘You mean Binnie Dundee? How can he be married again when he’s still married to that Irish girl?’
Watt could have kicked himself. He remained silent, not knowing how to retreat from his mistake.
‘Come on, Watt,’ she coaxed, ‘I won’t tell anyone, you trust me, don’t you?’ He sensed the hurt in her voice and turned to her quickly.
‘Of course I do. But you mustn’t tell anyone, not even Llinos and certainly not Pearl, she’d have it all over the paint shop before you could finish your words.’
‘So who has Binnie married then?’ Lily asked in such an innocent voice that Watt made up his mind to tell her everything.
‘It’s Hortense, Dan McCabe’s oldest daughter. Got kiddies, too, three sons. They seem very happy.’ He finished lamely.
‘Oh, well, live and let live, I suppose,’ Lily said. ‘It wouldn’t do any good to talk about it now, would it?’
He sighed in relief; he had half-expected her to explode with righteous indignation. He leaned closer to her. ‘I could have
married one of the other girls, if I’d stayed.’ He smiled. ‘Dan more or less offered both me and John a job and a daughter to go with it.’
‘But you weren’t tempted, were you, Watt?’ Lily’s eyes were full of shadows in the moonlight. ‘I would hate to think of you being with another woman, sitting holding hands, like we are now. You didn’t, did you?’
‘Of course not,’ Watt said. ‘I only thought about you and every other woman faded into insignificance. You are so beautiful Lily, so talented. Those girls, the McCabe girls, they are spoiled rich girls, waited on by servants. Their father has given them everything they could possibly want.’
Lily nodded thoughtfully. ‘So he even buys them a husband. At least I don’t need a father to do that for me, do I, Watt?’
He felt his breath catch in his throat; was she really saying what he thought she was, that she would consider him as a husband?
‘No need at all, Lily,’ he said with difficulty. ‘But then no other woman is as lovely as you.’
She rose to her feet then and brushed down her skirt. ‘I’d better get back. Will you take me home Watt? I don’t want the old biddy who runs the lodging house branding me as a wicked girl, do I?’
He rose at once and forced himself to smile though his entire being tingled with desire. He wanted to throw Lily down in the grass, to kiss her until she was breathless, to make her want him as he wanted her. She began to walk back towards the road and, sighing in resignation, he followed her.
‘Well then, Polly, what do you think of that, then?’ Lily sat on the bed, her nightgown tucked around her bare feet. ‘What a bit of gossip, eh? Binnie Dundee married to two women at once. You can’t believe it, can you?’
Polly’s eyes were green like a cat’s in the flickering candlelight. ‘Oh, I can believe anything of men, pigs they are, the lot of them. How did he come to tell you, then? I thought you weren’t friends with Watt Bevan.’
‘Well, I took a leaf out of your book, Polly, and played him along a bit. It was hard going though, I can’t bear him to touch me.’
