Daughters of Rebecca (30 page)

Still, steeped as he was in the folklore of the Indian nation, Joe had betrayed the solemn vows of the marriage he had made to Llinos. Much as he respected Joe, Binnie's sympathy was for his dear friend.

Aloud, he attempted to mitigate Joe's crime. ‘I suppose you were brought up in a different way from the rest of us,' he said slowly. ‘Women like Llinos take their marriage vows seriously.'

Joe looked at Binnie then, his clear blue eyes penetrating Binnie's very soul. Startled, Binnie leaned back in his leather chair as if to distance himself from Joe. ‘What I mean is, women are strange creatures and don't look on infidelity the way we men do.'

‘You don't know Llinos as well as you think.' Joe's words were loaded. Through the smoke of the room, his eyes gleamed unnaturally bright and Binnie felt a moment of horror as he grasped that Joe was deeply distressed, so much so that he was on the point of shedding tears.

‘Joe, what do you mean?' The implications of Joe's stark expression burst into his mind. He remembered the atmosphere when that young chap Buchan had called at the pottery. He frowned, thinking of how flustered Llinos had been, how she had rushed Buchan out of the house.

‘You don't mean Llinos is having an affair?' Binnie picked up his glass and swallowed the whisky neat, not bothering to add the water placed strategically in the white china jug at his side.

Joe looked down into his drink, picked up the
glass and swirled the port into flurries of bright colour. ‘That is exactly what I mean.'

He sounded like a man defeated. All his fighting spirit seemed to have left him. Binnie stared at him, remembering the first bright days of the love affair between his dear friend Llinos and Joe. How could such promise have been dashed into the dust?

He ran his hand round his collar, thinking of his own indiscretions. Hortense had been devastated when she learned he had lied to her about his first marriage. That had been the biggest mistake of Binnie's life.

He went hot and cold even now when he thought about the awful time he had gone through when Hortense threw him out. He had been a married man when he met her, and the father of a child, but he had still gone through a ceremony with Hortense, afraid of losing her.

Now that his first wife and daughter were dead, Hortense was his wife in law, the second service conducted in secret. But sometimes, even now, Binnie would see a faraway look in her face and he would feel that she was still angry and hurt by his betrayal. To a woman, physical love between a man and his woman was a sacred thing to be treasured. What pressures then must have been brought to bear on Llinos to make her turn to another man?

‘I suppose I can understand Llinos's feelings,' he ventured. ‘She adored you, Joe. She worshipped you and she must have been devastated when you brought an Indian squaw home to Swansea.'

‘But how could she go to the arms of another man?' The words were torn from Joe. He was suffering the torments of hell and there was little Binnie could say to ease his mind.

‘I don't know,' Binnie said. ‘It's not like Llinos to stray – she always had such high principles.'

‘Well, those principles have vanished,' Joe said, in a low voice. ‘She's with the man even now, lying in his bed, letting him . . .' His voice trailed away.

‘Come on, Joe!' Binnie urged. ‘It's not like you to give up. Perhaps if you bide your time she'll see the error of her ways then everything can return to normal.'

‘You think so?' Joe looked up, his eyes shadowed. ‘Haven't you sensed the unease in the house, the air of deceit and betrayal?' He took a little of his drink. ‘I think your wife knows how badly wrong my marriage is. Hortense is a sensitive woman.'

For a moment Binnie resented the implication that he was insensitive but then, looking at Joe's face, the feeling of acute pity returned. But there was nothing he could do. Interfering in someone else's marriage was dangerous. Perhaps it was time to leave Swansea and take Hortense home. He could do no good by staying here.

‘Have another drink?' he asked, but Joe shook his head. He had never been much of a drinking man; he had always been strong, with an inner peace Binnie had envied. Now, though, his strength seemed to have deserted him.

‘Go on!' Binnie urged. ‘A drink of alcohol often takes the edge off pain, haven't you found that?'

‘I suppose so.' Joe accepted another drink and then another. Binnie matched him, glass for glass. But Binnie was used to it. It did not affect him, not any more.

Binnie looked at Joe and realized the other man was drunk. ‘I think we'd better get back to the house,' he said. ‘I'll get the horses brought round to the front. Just you sit there and leave everything to me.'

Binnie went out into the night and looked up at the sky studded with stars. How he longed to be home in America, where everything was more impressive, where the moon almost touched the earth, and where the open spaces were vast and he could breathe.

The horses were brought and Binnie gave instructions to the stable-boy to hold the animals there while he fetched his friend. For a moment, he hesitated, stroking the strong neck of the animal nearest to him wishing himself anywhere but here in the streets of Swansea with a man drunk and sunk into misery.

Taking a deep breath, Binnie went back into the hotel and stood at the door of the lounge looking for Joe. There was no sign of him.

Llinos lay in the darkness, looking up at the moon-dappled ceiling. Beside her, Dafydd slept peacefully, his bare chest naked, his arm still under her head. They had made love and, though the passion was still there, her fascination for Dafydd still as strong as ever, Llinos knew in her heart that she had tarnished their love by sleeping with Joe. She had not brought herself to tell
Dafydd the truth – how could she when he had so much trust in her? Dafydd believed implicitly that she loved him, would never be with her husband or any other man ever again.

Hot tears formed in her eyes and her throat ached. She was so confused – and so angry with herself for being weak. She turned to look at Dafydd and saw the outline of his face against the white of the pillows. He was so young, so precious to her. Was that it? Was she just trying to recapture her youth?

She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard a pounding on the door. The small house Dafydd had rented for them boasted only one maid, and Llinos sat up, clutching the bedclothes to her as she heard the sound of footsteps then of the door being opened. Loud voices in the hall roused Dafydd, and at once he was slipping out of bed, pulling on a gown.

He was like an animal sensing danger but before he had taken the first step towards the door it was flung open and Joe stood in the doorway, tall and menacing, a candle held aloft in his hand. His hair hung around his face, his arms were outstretched and in the darkness he looked like a demon of destruction.

‘What the hell—' Dafydd said. ‘How dare you barge into my house?' Dafydd stood facing Joe, his young, lithe body taut, his shoulders tense. He was a man who felt he could tackle anything and anyone, but Llinos knew that this was a time for diplomacy not violence.

‘Please, Joe, go downstairs while we dress. At least afford us the dignity of wearing clothes.'

‘I won't be here long.' Joe's voice was harsh. ‘I just came to tell you, Buchan, that Llinos still loves and desires me. Yes, that's right, she came to me eagerly enough, a woman who needs a real man to make her feel good.'

‘Liar!' Dafydd said. ‘I'll kill you for that, you bastard!'

‘No!' Llinos stood between the two men, her heart thumping with fear. If the men fought it would be to the death, for neither of them would countenance defeat. ‘No, Dafydd, don't let Joe provoke you. That's what he wants. Can't you see it?'

Dafydd put his arm around her and, with his other hand, dragged the quilt from the bed and covered her with it.

‘Do you think I have never seen my wife naked?' Joe's voice was edged with sarcasm. ‘Tell him, Llinos, tell him how you came to my bed the other night. Tell him I know how to make you weep with pleasure.'

‘He's goading you, Dafydd,' Llinos said desperately. ‘Get out, Joe. If you ever intend even to speak to me again you'll get out of here now, before I open the window and scream for the constable.'

‘I won't go until you tell him!' Joe said. ‘Tell your lover how you betrayed him with me. You can't deny it, Llinos.' His voice had softened. ‘Tell the man, he deserves the truth.'

Dafydd looked down at her. ‘Is it the truth, Llinos?' His voice shook with uncertainty and Llinos felt her heart plummet. ‘Speak to me.'

‘Dafydd, I was forced into it.'

‘You mean, he forced himself on you?'

‘No, but when we had visitors we were obliged to sleep in the same room. It just happened, Dafydd. I'm sorry in my heart!'

Dafydd released her and began to pull on his clothes like a man possessed. ‘You whore!' He stared at Joe. ‘Take her. You deserve each other!' He rushed from the room and Llinos heard him racing downstairs, then the front door slam.

She whirled on Joe, her eyes wide. ‘Are you happy now?' She wrapped the quilt more tightly around her. ‘Get out, Joe. You've done your worst and I will never forgive you, never.'

‘Llinos, he's not the man for you. One day he will look at your face, really look, and then he'll see how much older you are than he is.'

‘Get out before I kill you,' Llinos said. ‘And move your belongings out of my house in Pottery Row. I won't return there until you do.'

He stared at her for a long moment. Then, defeated, he left the room. Llinos crawled back into the bed and began to cry, loud, heartrending sobs that racked her body. How could Joe have done this to her? How could he confront Dafydd in his own home?

‘I hate you, Joe Mainwaring!' she murmured into the pillow. ‘I never want to see you again.'

At last, exhausted, Llinos fell into an uneasy sleep. When she woke it was morning. Light filtered into the room and streaks of pale sun dappled the ceiling. She opened her eyes slowly, not wanting to think or feel. She stared at the indentation in the pillow where Dafydd's head had been, and a terrible fear gripped her. How
could she live without him? She turned her face into the pillow again and wept.

‘How could she do it to me, Isabelle?' Dafydd was unwashed. His hair, uncombed, clung around his face in tight curls. ‘I trusted her and she betrayed me. How can I ever forgive her?'

Isabelle sat beside him, still dressed only in her nightclothes. ‘Dafydd, she is a married woman. It must be difficult to tell your husband you no longer want any intimacy with him. As her husband he has the right to take her when he pleases.'

Dafydd looked up at her. ‘Isabelle, you of all people! I know you don't agree with that!'

‘Well, if she wanted to keep the peace – and with visitors in the house, what else could she do? – she couldn't fight off her own husband and make a scene, could she? It would be so humiliating. Many married women give in to their husbands for the sake of peace. Think about it, Dafydd.'

‘She could have said no.'

‘But could she?' Isabelle challenged him. ‘What was she to do? Scream out in the night? Shame herself and her husband by causing a fuss? Sometimes it is easier to let a man have his way and be done with it.'

Dafydd looked up. ‘But he said she cried out in delight, that he knew ways to please her. How can I live with her now knowing that?'

‘He might have been fantasizing,' Isabelle said. ‘Ask yourself, would she be so uninhibited as to cry out with guests in the next bedroom? I doubt
it.' She smoothed back Dafydd's hair, as though he were a child. ‘As I said, sometimes it is easier to give in and get the thing over.'

Isabelle's words were throwing a new light on the whole sorry episode with Joe. He had been making a last-ditch stand to get his wife back, and who could blame him?

‘Llinos did say he forced her into it.' He looked at Isabelle. She was a rational woman and her first loyalty would always be towards him.

She continued to talk softly: ‘This man, Llinos's husband, he came to you like a braggart, exaggerating everything. Don't you think this was a plan of his to separate you?'

The more Dafydd thought about it, the more he could see the happenings of the night from a different perspective. Mainwaring had come in bragging about his prowess, taunting Dafydd to the point of madness. And had Llinos stood by her husband? She had not.

He looked up. ‘Thank you for talking to me, Isabelle,' he said. ‘You have made me see things in a much different light.' It still pained him like a knife wound to think of Llinos in bed with Joe, but now he could accept that it had not been entirely her fault. ‘I'll go home.' He got to his feet and hugged Isabelle. ‘Thank you for making me see sense.' He almost smiled. ‘And I apologize for dragging you out of your bed like this.'

‘We are friends and that's what friends are for. Still, this passion, this urge to conquer that men have, it takes a great deal of understanding, especially for an independent woman like me.'

‘You are a wise old owl.' Dafydd felt a glimmer
of humour. After all, Mainwaring had stolen only one night with Llinos while he had her for ever.

Llinos was waiting for him, standing at the window of their bedroom, her face puffy with tears. Without a word, Dafydd took her in his arms and she clung to him, weeping afresh.

‘I hate Mainwaring,' he said, in a low voice, ‘and I hate what he made you do, but as God is my judge, I can't live without you, Llinos.'

She held his face in her hands and kissed his lips. She spoke through her tears. ‘And I can never let you go, never.' She swallowed hard. ‘I will stay here with you always. I'll never go back to the pottery. I won't risk losing you, Dafydd, even if it means changing the whole pattern of my life.'