Daughters of Rebecca (12 page)

‘It's Lloyd who should be apologizing, Llinos,' Eynon said, as he sank into a chair. ‘I know they went without your knowledge or consent but, for heaven's sake, impress on the boy that such behaviour is unacceptable.'

‘I have spoken to him most severely, Eynon,' Llinos's shoulders were tense, ‘but I can no more control Lloyd than I can his father.' She felt a sudden flare of anger: Joe seemed to care more about the son who was living on another continent than he did about his legitimate son in Swansea. He should be here now dealing with the problem, not leaving it all to her.

The front-door bell rang again. Llinos sighed. ‘Oh dear, I don't want any visitors at the moment.'

The maid knocked on the door of the sitting room. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Mainwaring, there's a gentleman to see you, a Mr Dafydd Buchan, pottery owner from Llanelli.'

Llinos hesitated. She did not want to see Dafydd now. She had thought far too much about him since his last visit.

‘Show him in,' she said, reluctantly.

Dafydd entered the room and seemed at once to dominate it. She thought afresh how handsome he was, with his hair just a little long to be fashionable. He glanced briefly at Eynon and nodded, but then his penetrating brown eyes turned to Llinos. She felt transfixed by his gaze. ‘Please, won't you join us, Mr Buchan?' Llinos forced a smile. ‘I was just going to order tea.' She looked at him. ‘Unless you've come to scold me again, have you?'

‘I came to apologize for that, Mrs Mainwaring.' He spoke formally but his eyes were filled with laughter now. ‘I realize your son is a young man – he no more listens to his mother's words of advice than I would.'

He seemed quite at ease as he sat down and spread out his long legs before him. ‘That's a splendid fire, Mrs Mainwaring.'

Llinos glanced at the ornate grate. The fire was blazing with freshly placed logs and the aroma of applewood was pleasantly refreshing. She realized suddenly that Eynon was very quiet.

‘I am sorry. Do you know each other?' She made the introductions as brief as possible, and she could tell by the look on Eynon's face that he did not altogether approve of the unexpected visitor.

‘Your husband is away again on business, I understand,' Dafydd said. ‘How unfortunate that I always seem to miss him.'

He looked her over, his dark eyes taking in every detail of her appearance, and Llinos was absurdly pleased that she had dressed with care. She was aware that her figure was slender still, with the look of a young girl, but there were lines around her eyes and a silver streak in her hair that clearly did not escape Dafydd's shrewd eye.

‘Yes, he is still absent. I'm sorry about that, but if there are any specific questions you wanted to ask about the pottery perhaps I would do?'

She saw a tiny smile twitch the corners of Dafydd's lips. ‘I think you will do very nicely, Mrs Mainwaring,' he said.

Eynon got to his feet abruptly. ‘I think your
tone over-familiar, sir,' he said curtly. ‘It would do for you to remember your manners in the presence of a lady.'

‘Are my manners lacking, then, Mr Morton-Edwards?' Dafydd's eyebrows were raised. There was a hard edge to his voice.

‘Eynon,' Llinos said quickly, ‘do you have to leave so soon? Come along, I'll see you to the door.'

If he was surprised by her words Eynon hid it well. ‘Yes, I must go. Good day to you, Mr Buchan.'

When they were in the hall Llinos put her hand on Eynon's shoulder. ‘Don't worry about Mr Buchan, I can deal with him.'

‘I hope so. The man doesn't seem to know his place.'

Llinos smiled. ‘Come, Eynon, do I detect a touch of jealousy?' She kissed his cheek. ‘You are my dear friend and I know you want to protect me, but I'm not a little girl any longer.'

‘Don't let the man stay too long, Llinos,' Eynon said. ‘His sort needs discouraging. He's too bumptious by half.'

She watched as Eynon rode away, then returned to the drawing room.

‘Your friend is very protective,' Dafydd said. ‘I think he doesn't much like me.' He smiled widely. ‘He's in love with you, of course. That's why he was so aggrieved at my sudden visit.'

Llinos sat down and clasped her hands in her lap, aware that they were trembling. Eynon had been right: Dafydd
was
being familiar for a man she had known only for a few weeks, yet she was
not irritated by his interest. Rather, she was intrigued. ‘Eynon is a very old friend,' she said. ‘He took it upon himself to look after me when my mother died. When the pottery was in a bad way, Eynon was always on hand to help in any way he could.' She smiled wryly. ‘In those early days, when I was trying to get the pottery back on its feet, it was hard going, believe me. It was a case of sink or swim.'

‘And you, very bravely, chose to swim.'

Llinos looked at Dafydd from under her lashes and wondered if he was being patronizing, but he met her glance with a switch of his eyes and she felt herself grow tense. She sensed that Dafydd Buchan could be dangerous as well as attractive.

‘Did you come to look round the pottery again, Mr Buchan?' Llinos asked.

He stared at her lazily and Llinos felt the heat come into her cheeks. There was a long silence, and then he smiled. ‘I would much prefer to stay here and talk with you, Mrs Mainwaring. You are charming and intelligent, and such ladies are rare, I've found.'

He was smooth-tongued, a flatterer with charisma and good looks. Llinos knew that, and yet she warmed to him. She felt like an attractive woman again, not a wife of many years' standing. She realized that it was a long time since Joe had made her feel that way.

‘Then, by all means, stay and talk.' She hoped her voice did not reflect her excitement. She wanted him very much to stay, to talk to her about potting, about anything that came into his
head. He was an exciting man, intelligent too, and she relished the time spent in his company. That was all that attracted her to him – she needed companionship and the mental stimulation of good conversation.

He talked. His enthusiasm for his work was boundless. He was now producing pottery, he told her, good tableware with colourful patterns that would be exclusive to the Llanelli pottery. He described the designs: some would be stylized flowers and others would be gaily painted farm animals.

Llinos found herself enraptured by his energy and enthusiasm. These were feelings she had lost, the pleasure in the pottery work and the challenge of new ideas.

‘Perhaps I will come soon to see your pottery.' Llinos leaned forward in her chair. ‘Your patterns sound so exciting.'

‘That would be a delight,' Dafydd said, his face revealing nothing. ‘I know you would be most appreciative of what my brother and I are trying to achieve.'

‘I hope your brother won't mind if I visit. Have you any other family?' Llinos could have bitten her tongue. He would know exactly what she was really asking.

‘I have no wife as yet,' he said, and his mouth twitched at the corners.

Llinos felt like a young, untried girl, and as the colour spread hotly from her neck to her face she lowered her head, as if plucking a piece of cotton from her gown. ‘I'm sorry,' she said. ‘I am being far too personal and we are practically strangers.'
But he did not feel like a stranger. It was as if she had known him for ever.

He echoed her thoughts. ‘No, I wouldn't call us strangers. We have the beginnings of a fine friendship, I think.'

‘Yes, you're right.' She spoke breathlessly. What was it about Dafydd Buchan that made her feel like a lovely young girl again?

‘My brother is married,' he offered. ‘Ceri has a pleasant wife and three infants.'

Llinos tried to think of something sensible to say. ‘You have met my son,' she said. ‘He's my only child. But Lloyd has a half-brother somewhere in America.' Now why on earth had she blurted out what was in her mind?

‘I see.' Dafydd looked into her eyes. ‘Well, I expect many a married man has dallied a little before the knot is tied. It is no great sin for a man to take a woman before he takes a wife.' He smiled suddenly, and dimples appeared in his cheeks. ‘Some even say it is beneficial.'

‘Oh, yes? For whom?' Llinos said sharply. ‘Not the poor wife, I think. In any case, my husband did his dallying not before our wedding but after.' She paused to gather her wits. ‘How did we come to this? I'm mortified to be talking so intimately with you, Mr Buchan.'

‘Please call me Dafydd, and there's no need to feel embarrassed. I am pleased that we can talk in this way.' He gave a little laugh. ‘Before I met you I was led to expect that Mrs Llinos Mainwaring was something of a dragon. That was far from the truth because here you are, a beautiful lady with fire in her eyes.'

Llinos was suddenly fearful. She was getting into an intimacy that was dangerous. Yet she felt rosy and warm and happy, a woman in the presence of an attractive man who showed a real interest in what she had to say. ‘You'll stay for tea?' she asked, and heard without remorse the note of entreaty in her voice. She wanted him to stay; she felt she could have talked with him for hours.

‘Alas,' he glanced at his pocket watch, ‘my time is short. But may I call again at an arranged time more convenient to us both?' He rose to his feet and Llinos felt a dart of disappointment. ‘Then we can talk to our hearts' content.'

She smiled. ‘That would be very . . .' she searched for an appropriate word ‘. . . enjoyable. I hope it will be soon.'

She got up reluctantly, and went with him to the door of the drawing room. He stood for a moment, his hand on the latch, and she was very conscious of his nearness, of the breadth of his shoulders, the power in his dark eyes.

‘I will make the visit a priority,' he said. ‘It's a long time since I enjoyed the company of a woman so much.' He took her hand and bent to kiss her fingers.

The brush of his lips against her skin sent a thrill of desire through her, and Llinos snatched her hand away. ‘The maid will see you out,' she said, in a low voice, afraid to meet his eyes. ‘But please call again, soon.'

When he had left, Llinos closed the drawing-room door and stood looking at her reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. She saw a woman
with animation in her face, an expression that could almost be described as radiant. It was the look of a woman highly attracted to a man. Had Dafydd noticed? Somehow Llinos felt sure that he had.

‘Dafydd.' The name escaped softly from her parted lips. Dafydd, the Welsh for David. A strong name for a strong man. Llinos pressed her hands to her hot cheeks; she was being silly, wicked, lusting after him. And yet, and yet, she just wanted to savour the memory of Dafydd Buchan for a little while.

Llinos sank into her chair and stared at her hands. His lips had touched her skin and she had enjoyed the sensation more than was proper for a mature, married woman. But he liked her, Dafydd really liked her, and she could not wait to see him again.

The next morning Joe arrived home, and Llinos felt a pang of guilt as he took her in his arms and kissed her. But thoughts did not constitute actions; being unfaithful in her mind was not the same as putting those thoughts into practice. If only Joe had been as circumspect.

‘I'm glad you've come home,' she said, disentangling herself from his arms, ‘although you should have been here sooner if you were to be of any help. It's a bit late now that Lloyd's back at college.'

‘Why? What has he done wrong?' Joe asked. He seemed more interested in poking the coals in the grate than in listening to her and her voice rose.

‘Your son needs a good talking-to. He's been attending political meetings in the town.'

Joe turned to look at her and she saw afresh that he was a very handsome man. But not as handsome as Dafydd Buchan – or was that thought disloyal?

‘That's surely not such a bad thing.' Joe moved to the sideboard and poured a glass of rich red wine. ‘What was the meeting about?'

‘What else but the price rise at the toll-gates? It seems there was a riot. He might have been hurt.'

‘He's spreading his wings. It's what the young do,' Joe said.

‘But he was silly enough to take Shanni, not to mention Jayne Morton-Edwards, with him. Eynon was very cross about it.'

‘Ah, well, that was unwise. I'll speak to him.' He seemed abstracted, as though his thoughts were elsewhere. Llinos bit back the angry words that rose to her lips, knowing he was thinking about Sho Ka and the son she had borne him.

They sat on opposite sides of the fireplace, Joe in the chair that yesterday had been occupied by Dafydd. Llinos wondered if she should mention his visit but decided against it. The pottery was her business; it was nothing to do with Joe.

‘Lloyd's talking about leaving college. Joe!' Her voice was sharp. ‘I had to talk him into going back at least until he had had the courtesy to speak to you about it. You are interested in your son's welfare, aren't you? Your legitimate son, I mean.'

Joe looked up at her over his glass. ‘Llinos, I'm tired and worried, I can't argue with you now.'

She was suddenly concerned. ‘Are you ill, Joe? What is it? What's wrong?'

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. ‘It's Sho Ka's child. My child. The boy is sick. I'll have to travel to America. There's nothing else for it – they need me.'

Llinos got to her feet, walked towards the fireplace and stared at the glowing coals without seeing them. How dare he? How dare Joe talk about his other woman and his child as though they were the most important people in the world?

‘And how did you find out about this? Come to think of it, how do you know anything about your other family? We never get any letters from them here.'

‘That's unimportant.' Joe sounded impatient. ‘What's it to you where my letters go to?'

‘I am your wife,' Llinos said bleakly. ‘Are you keeping the house in Neath in case Sho Ka comes back?'