Daughters of Rebecca (22 page)

‘I would have come directly to you but I might have met my wife.' He paused. ‘It's about Llinos I'm here. I want you to leave her alone.'

The man's voice was surprisingly gentle, and Dafydd peered at him trying to read his expression. ‘And if I don't?'

Dafydd heard Mainwaring sigh. ‘One day, in the not too distant future, Llinos will be devastated by the pain of losing you. The shock will be far greater for her than if you made a clean break of things right now.'

‘You're talking rubbish, or is that a threat?' Dafydd edged his horse closer to the mare and her rider. ‘If it's a fight you want then I'm more than happy to take you on. Pistols or swords?'

‘I don't wish to fight you. If I wanted to harm you I have enough methods at my fingertips to make a very good job of it.' Mainwaring spoke gently but the conviction in his tone assured Dafydd that he meant every word. ‘All I want is for you to think of Llinos. She will lose you, and one day soon, so why not end it now?'

Dafydd shuddered. He was not usually superstitious but something in the appearance and the voice of Mainwaring was unnerving. Before
Dafydd could ask any questions the pale horse and the man with the long hair had vanished.

Dafydd sat for a long time until his horse, unsettled by the inactivity, began to paw the ground. ‘Come on, then, girl, let's get home.' He urged the horse to gallop, as if he could outrun the feeling of dread that had come with the foreigner's words.

‘Damn you, Mainwaring!' he shouted into the wind. ‘I want Llinos as my own, and to hell with the likes of you!'

‘So you dared to go and see him?' Llinos walked across the carpeted room then back again twisting her hands together. ‘How could you, Joe?'

‘I wanted to warn him.' Joe spoke levelly. ‘He will come to a bad end and I don't want you involved in any rabble-rousing.'

‘I have asked you to leave this house and to leave me in peace.' Llinos sank into a chair. ‘I simply won't have you interfering in my life making threats to Dafydd as you did.' She looked up at him. ‘At least I didn't threaten your woman, did I?' The edge of bitterness was still there in her voice, and in her heart.

Joe came towards her and took her hands in his. ‘So my faithlessness still has the power to hurt you? That shows you still feel something for me, Llinos, doesn't it?'

‘Don't read too much into my words. I can't give Dafydd up just as you couldn't give up Sho Ka.' She pushed herself up from the chair and moved to the door.

Joe remained standing before the fire, his head
held proudly and his eyes following her every move. ‘You are going to him now, tonight?'

‘Yes,' Llinos said. ‘Don't try to stop me.'

Joe did not speak. He simply stared at her as, with anger in her every movement, she strode out into the hall.

Later, as the coach jogged its way towards the small house in the Strand, which Dafydd had rented as their love-nest, Llinos thought about Joe, about the stricken look on his face and, in that moment, guilt was a heavy burden on her heart.

But she reminded herself that he had left her, abandoned her time after time, and rushed off to his mistress. He had betrayed her with every day he had spent with Sho Ka. Llinos had had no-one to lean on: when she had most needed love and support Joe had been away on yet another trip.

When the coach stopped outside the house Llinos stepped down eagerly. The young maid ushered her into the drawing room where Dafydd was waiting for her. Before the girl had even closed the door he took Llinos in his arms and buried his face in her neck.

‘I thought he would stop you coming to me,' he said, and his voice was gruff with emotion. ‘I prayed to all the saints that you would be strong.'

‘What did he say to you?' Llinos touched Dafydd's cheek. ‘Did he threaten you?'

Dafydd released her and led her to the plump sofa. He shook his head and sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders. ‘In a way I suppose he did. He practically told me that my days are
numbered and if our love continues you will be badly hurt.'

Llinos shivered. She knew that Joe had not been threatening Dafydd but seeing into his future. ‘Forget Joe!' She took Dafydd's hand. ‘Take me to bed and make love to me as if we will never part.'

‘And we won't, I promise you that.'

Shanni sat in the softly lit parlour with Madame Isabelle and listened as the older woman played a delicate tune on the piano. The music was soothing, beautiful, and Shanni relaxed against the soft cushions on the sofa. She was grateful that Madame Isabelle had allowed her to stay with her in Llanelli, especially after Mr Ceri Buchan had been shot in the riot.

A flutter of excitement went through her as she glanced at the clock, anticipating the moment when Dafydd Buchan would walk in the door.

Madame Isabelle stopped playing as the sound of the bell echoed through the house. He was here, Dafydd was only moments away from her, and Shanni took a deep breath, telling herself to be calm but all the time listening to the sounds in the hallway as the maid took Dafydd's outdoor coat and hat.

And then he was in the room, standing tall and imposing, bringing in with him the freshness of the evening breeze. He took Madame Isabelle's hand and kissed it, then held Shanni's hand tightly in his. Was the way he looked at her special? Wasn't he leaning closer to her than
necessary, holding on to her hand for longer than was proper?

‘Please take a seat, Dafydd.' Madame Isabelle gestured towards the sofa, and as Dafydd sat beside Shanni, his sleeve touched hers, and Shanni was happy she had manoeuvred things so that she would be close to him.

‘How is your brother?' Madame Isabelle asked. ‘I do hope his injuries are not going to prove serious.'

‘He is recovering slowly,' Dafydd said quietly. ‘It was unfortunate that he happened to ride past the gate on that particular night, though, because he is not in sympathy with the cause and he was a fool to have interfered in something that was not his business.'

‘His intentions were good,' Madame Isabelle said. ‘Now, Dafydd, where do we go from here? For all our efforts the tolls keep rising and the farmers are almost ruined.' She paused. ‘I certainly don't want an escalation of violence. There's been enough bloodshed as it is.'

Glancing at Dafydd, Shanni saw that he was shaking his head. ‘I don't see how we can avoid it. So far we've got nowhere in the fight for justice and the patience of the people is wearing thin.'

‘I know you're right but isn't there another way to tackle this?' Madame Isabelle asked.

‘Such as a letter to the Queen?' Dafydd smiled. ‘Her Majesty, like her government, does not wish to know of our problems. Face facts, Isabelle, we are on our own in the fight for justice. What we need to do now is discuss our next move.'

The doorbell rang and Dafydd looked up quickly. ‘Are you expecting visitors?'

‘No. I'll go and see who it is.' Madame Isabelle swept out of the room, and Shanni risked a quick look at Dafydd. He was so handsome. His hair curled around his strong-jawed face and to Shanni he looked every inch the hero from the history books she had read.

He caught her glance and smiled. ‘What are you thinking about, little girl?'

Dimples showed in his cheeks, and Shanni ached to throw herself into his arms. She felt her colour rising. ‘I'm not a little girl. I'm grown-up, mature. The place of my birth saw to that.' She spoke in a low voice. ‘And if you want to know what I'm really thinking it's that you're fine and handsome and I'd follow you to the ends of the earth.'

He pinched her cheek. ‘I know you would, and I'm grateful to you for your loyalty. But, in spite of what you think, you have a lot of growing up to do yet. You must meet people your own age, the right people.'

‘I'm happy to be here with you. And with Madame Isabelle, of course,' she added hastily.

The voices from the hall came nearer. The door opened, and when Madame Isabelle came into the room Shanni was puzzled by her manner. She was flushed, her eyes sparkling; a curl had become unpinned and hung beguilingly down her neck. In that moment Shanni saw that Madame was not only an excellent teacher but a beautiful lady into the bargain.

‘Allow me to introduce my visitor.' She spoke
breathlessly. ‘Eynon Morton-Edwards, please meet Dafydd Buchan, and Shanni Price, my pupil.'

Eynon shook hands with Dafydd. ‘We've met,' he said curtly. He turned to Shanni and smiled. ‘Ah, we are old friends, aren't we, Shanni?'

She was relieved that Mr Morton-Edwards did not enlarge on his statement. For some reason she did not want Dafydd to learn that she had once been a humble maidservant. He knew she had been penniless but, then, even high-born ladies were sometimes without a fortune.

The talk became general, pleasantries were exchanged, and Shanni knew that the secret meeting was at an end. She felt in her bones that soon Dafydd would leave; he was not here to be sociable though he put on a good show for Madame's sake.

‘I hear you used to own the large pottery on the banks of the Tawe.' He smiled at Eynon. ‘I'm trying to make a success of a pottery I've opened here in Llanelli. Perhaps you could share your knowledge of the business with me some time.'

Mr Morton-Edwards seemed cool. ‘I hear you already have an adviser in Mrs Llinos Mainwaring,' he said. ‘You could find no finer person to instruct you in the art of potting and all it entails.'

Dafydd rose to his feet, glancing at the clock. ‘I think it is time I was on my way.' He bowed over Madame's hand. ‘If you will excuse me, Isabelle.'

‘Of course, Dafydd. You have much to attend to with your brother sick.'

‘Ah, I heard about the fracas at the Dwr
Coch gate,' Eynon said, ‘and my sympathies to your brother. His attempt to prevent violence is laudable.'

‘Quite so.' Dafydd smiled at Shanni. ‘See you soon, little lady.'

When he had left, the room seemed very quiet. Shanni was sensitive to atmosphere, and she knew that Madame Isabelle wished to be alone with her visitor.

‘I think I'll go to my room, Madame, if I may.'

‘Of course, Shanni.'

Shanni closed the door of the sitting room behind her, resenting the intrusion of Mr Morton-Edwards with an intensity that made her heart pound. Because of him Dafydd had left earlier than he had intended, depriving Shanni of his company.

Madame Isabelle was happy to see him, that much was obvious. It was not within the bounds of possibility that she fancied herself in love with him. In her room, Shanni sank on to the bed and stared into the fire, the embers flickering towards extinction. She decided that soon the room was getting cold and that it would be wise to wash and climb into bed as soon as she could.

From downstairs she heard the sound of muted voices and frowned. Why, oh, why had Mr Morton-Edwards chosen this very night to visit Madame and without an invitation? It was unpardonable.

She smiled suddenly at her reflection in the mirror then grimaced. ‘You, my girl, are turning into a snobbish little horror,' she said. ‘It's about time you remembered the slums whence you
came, instead of worrying about the petty manners of the gentry.'

She climbed into bed, pulled the blankets up to her chin and snuggled down to dream about Dafydd.

‘You don't mind me calling unexpectedly?' Eynon said, and Isabelle took both his hands in hers.

‘You, my darling, can call on me any time you wish but please be discreet and come on a night when I am without visitors.'

He gripped her hands and slid on to one knee. ‘To hell with being discreet. I want to marry you, Isabelle.'

Her heart began to thump so loudly she thought he would hear it. ‘What do you mean, Eynon?'

‘I'm asking you to be my wife.' He took a small calfskin purse from his pocket and opened it. A diamond slipped into the palm of his hand, the glow from the fire shooting flames of colour from the stone.

‘But, Eynon!' Isabelle clasped her hands together. ‘I'm so far beneath you in station. I am a humble teacher of the pianoforte and you, well, you are a rich, respected businessman. You could have your pick of any of the eligible young women living in Swansea.'

‘So I could.' Eynon leaned closer to her and his lips briefly touched hers. ‘But I don't want any of them. I want you.'

‘But I am older than you. I can't have your children, Eynon. To marry you would not be fair.'

‘Will you stop raising objections to a perfectly logical proposal?' Eynon took her hand and slipped the ring on to her finger. It sparkled up at her like the promise of eternal love.

As she stared at it, Eynon drew her to her feet and held her against him. ‘I want you so much, Isa. I love the way your hair curls and I love your fine, intelligent mind.' His hands slid from her waist to cup her breasts. ‘And I love the sensuousness of you. Please, Isa, say you'll marry me.'

Uncharacteristically, Isabelle found herself throwing caution to the winds. She wanted to marry Eynon more than she had ever wanted anything. To hell with the world and what the people in it would think! Life was passing her by and she had to grab at her chances with both hands. As their lips met, Isabelle knew herself to be the happiest woman in the world.

LLINOS SAT IN
the window-seat so that the slant of sunlight fell on the letter she was reading. She was hardly aware of Shanni, who was tucked up on the sofa reading her book. The letter was from her old friend Binnie Dundee: he was planning to visit Britain, and he hoped he would be welcome to call on her.

She felt a stab of pain as she thought of Binnie and Hortense, so in love with each other. She imagined the life they shared in the sun, with no complications, no infidelity, no secrets from each other. The secrets from Binnie's past had been exorcized long ago.