Daughters of Rebecca (36 page)

Llinos frowned, trying to think. It was about three months ago when she and Dafydd had laughed and commiserated with each other because they could not make love.

‘About three months, I think,' she said.

‘And your breasts are tender, the veins standing
proud. Has there been some feeling of sickness in the mornings?'

‘Well, just a little, perhaps.' She tried to concentrate. She had been off her food lately but she had thought her loss of appetite was the result of being torn between her husband and her lover. ‘It surely can't be true!' The implications of her condition suddenly became alarmingly clear. ‘I can't be having another child. I just can't, not now.'

‘You can and you are.' The doctor rose and snapped shut his case. ‘I have dealt with too many pregnant ladies to be mistaken. I know you probably look on me as a new young doctor but, I assure you, I trained in the best London hospitals.'

‘I'm sorry. I don't doubt your ability – but a child at my age and when I thought I would never have another one . . . It's just too much to take in.'

‘Who told you there would be no more children? Some well-meaning midwife, I suspect.'

He was right. It had been Mrs Cottle, the woman who had delivered her stillborn daughter years ago told her there would be no more children.

Her head was spinning with questions, questions she hardly dared ask herself. ‘Thank you, Doctor,' she said. ‘And, please, can we keep this to ourselves for the moment?'

‘I quite understand.' He moved to the door. ‘My lips are sealed, Mrs Mainwaring. What is said between doctor and patient is sacrosanct.'

He left the room and she heard him go
downstairs. Then voices spoke in the hall and Dafydd was running up the stairs. ‘What did he say?' Dafydd looked worried as he sat beside her on the bed and Llinos felt her heart melt with protective love.

‘I might have eaten something that disagreed with me, that's all. Cheer up, I'm not about to expire.'

‘But, Llinos, it's not like you to fall sick. Are you sure you're being honest with me?'

She looked away from him quickly. ‘Please, just have a glass of hot milk sent up to me. I think all I need is a good night's sleep.'

‘If that's what you want, but we can always get the doctor back here if you don't feel better by tomorrow.'

She waved her hand at him. ‘Go on! Stop fussing over me, I'm fine.'

When Dafydd left the room, Llinos fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes. A baby at her age! She just could not take it in. She heard light footsteps on the stairs and the maid came into the room, carrying a tray. ‘Here we are, madam, you'll soon feel better.' She was looking at Llinos oddly, as if she guessed what was wrong but that was ridiculous: it would be difficult for anyone to imagine that a middle-aged woman had fallen for a baby.

When she was alone, Llinos put aside the glass and stared out into the night. It was now completely dark: the last of the light had vanished from the sky and the moon was obscured by cloud. Tomorrow it would probably rain.

She sighed and put her hands over her face, but
however she tried to marshal her thoughts they came back to the same thing: she was expecting a child and she did not know who its father was.

Had she conceived on her one night with Joe? But surely it was more likely that she was carrying Dafydd's child. Would she be glad or sorry if she was?

‘Oh, God, help me!' she said, as hot, bitter tears welled in her eyes.

She scarcely slept. At her side Dafydd stirred a few times and she tried her best not to disturb him. She woke in the morning, heavy-eyed, and contrary to her expectations, the bright light of the sun was filtering between the curtains. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Llinos turned to look at the empty bed beside her, Dafydd had probably been up at first light: he was a strong young man, eager to get on with the business of the day.

She felt an overwhelming urge to talk to someone about the baby, but whom could she confide in? She had no close women friends, no confidante who would listen and keep her counsel.

By the time she went down to the dining room Dafydd was half-way through his meal. He held her chair for her and smiled; he seemed to have forgotten all about her fainting spell. She hoped he would not notice that much of her breakfast was pushed aside.

‘And what are you going to do with yourself today?' he asked, as he put down his napkin.

‘I'll have to go up to the pottery, collect a few more things,' she said, attempting to appear as lighthearted as he was. She would need the larger
clothes she had worn for her first pregnancy – it was wasteful to buy more. In any case, she could imagine the speculation if she were to have fittings for clothes suitable for an expectant mother.

‘I don't like you going back there. Anything you need you can buy new, can't you?'

‘Of course, my love, but there are drawings and other personal things that I want to bring here.'

‘I see.' Dafydd looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps I should come with you, then.'

‘No, really, I'm not a silly child, Dafydd. I promise I won't stay there a moment longer than necessary. Look, I'll be home before you, you'll see.'

‘If you're sure.' Dafydd took her in his arms and kissed her lingeringly. ‘And remember, whatever Joe says you are with me now.'

It was almost noon by the time Llinos felt ready to go out. Dafydd had alerted the groom, who was waiting with the coach and pair. Llinos climbed into the seat and arranged her skirts.

The carriage jerked into motion and Llinos stared up at the blue of the sky, wondering fearfully who was the father of her child: her husband or her lover? Her hands lingered wonderingly on her stomach. It was flat still, with no sign of her condition. She felt a sudden glow of happiness. Whatever happened, whoever proved to be the father, she was going to bring a new life into the world. Perhaps when they knew the truth neither of the men in her life would want her but if necessary she would bring up her child alone.

It was strange riding along Pottery Row. Doors were open, as always, and neighbours waved to
her as she drove past. There was a catch in her throat. Was she leaving her home for ever?

Joe was sitting in the drawing room. He looked a little better than when she had seen him last, but he was still far too thin. There was no sign of her son.

Joe looked up at her. ‘Come in and make yourself comfortable. This is still your home.'

‘Where's Lloyd?' she asked, pulling off her gloves.

‘He's gone riding with Jayne. He is taking every opportunity to get out of the house these days, upset by the friction between us.'

‘Then he must have been upset long ago, when you went to Sho Ka's bed.' Llinos heard the waspish tone in her voice with a feeling of sadness and shame. ‘I'm sorry, Joe. This is no time to be sniping at each other, is it?'

He stared at her long and hard. ‘Are you going to stay with him?'

‘You know I am.'

‘Llinos, don't leave me, I'm begging you.'

‘I have to. Don't ask the impossible.' She left him with his head bowed and there was nothing she could say to comfort him.

In her room, she sank on to the freshly made bed. She had to stay with Dafydd: it was as if some invisible cord was drawing her to him. She could not explain her feelings when she did not understand them herself. Joe was wealthy: he could return to his luxurious house on the Marches if he wanted to.

She opened drawers and cupboards, pulling out the clothes she needed, then rang the bell for the
maid. ‘Tell the coachman I'm ready to leave,' she said briskly, aware that Flora was staring at her wide-eyed. ‘Go on, girl, don't just stand there gawping!'

She closed her bag. She was eager to leave the house and its memories behind her. She looked out for a moment at the shimmering bottle kilns. Why was life so complicated? Why had Joe ruined their love, ruined the trust she once had in him because of what he called ‘his destiny'? She saw now it had been an excuse to justify his infidelity. What a fool she had been to believe his lies.

He tried to speak to her before she left, but she waved him away. She climbed into the coach. ‘Drive on,' she said. As the wheels clattered on the drive, and the horses headed away from the pottery, Llinos stared straight ahead, leaving her home without a backward glance.

One day she would have to decide what to do with the pottery. She might sell up, or leave Watt to take care of things. If Watt was reconciled with Rosie they could live in the house in comfort, bring up children there. She thought briefly of her son. Would he live with his father from now on?

Llinos brushed her eyes impatiently. This emotion, the tearing apart of her spirit, was too much for her. She rested her hand on her stomach and tried to take in the reality of her situation. She was expecting a baby. What would happen if the child looked like Joe? Would Dafydd desert her?

She spanned her waist with her fingers, it was not as slim as it had been. She was feeling the urge to hold a new life in her arms again.

Part of the pain of Joe's betrayal had been the child he had sired on his mistress when he thought his wife was barren. He had loved that child, and every time he sent money or wrote letters to America, it had been like a knife thrust in Llinos's heart.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she let herself into the house she shared with Dafydd. She breathed in his scent; the aura of her young, vigorous lover permeated the house. Surely Dafydd's child was growing within her. But did she want it to be Dafydd's? That was the question she found impossible to answer.

Llinos was in the drawing room when she heard the front door open and the sound of voices in the hallway. She rose to her feet as Dafydd came into the room with Madame Isabelle and Shanni beside him.

‘Llinos!' Dafydd took her into his arms. ‘My love, you kept your promise to be home before me. You still look pale, though. Are you sure you're all right?'

‘I'm fine. I've just a bit of a headache, that's all.'

Dafydd remembered he had company. ‘Come and make yourself comfortable, Isabelle – you too, Shanni.' He kissed Llinos again and whispered in her ear, ‘Sorry about the visitors. I would much rather be alone with you.' Aloud, he said, ‘I'd better check that the horses are stabled. I won't be long.'

When he left the room, the three women sat in uncomfortable silence. It was Isabelle who spoke first. ‘Are you sure you're feeling well, Mrs Mainwaring? You look rather peaky.'

‘I'm perfectly all right, really. How are the plans for the wedding going?'

‘Well enough,' Isabelle said, ‘but I didn't realize how much work was involved. I wanted a quiet affair but it seems that's out of the question.'

Llinos wished they would go and leave her alone with Dafydd. She needed to talk to him, to tell him about the baby. ‘I expect you have bought the material for your gown.' She forced a note of enthusiasm into her voice.

‘As a matter of fact I could do with your opinion on that.' Isabelle sat forward in her chair. ‘At my age, I feel white to be a little unsuitable. Do you think cream will serve as well? Shanni thinks I'm being silly, that I should wear white like any other bride.'

‘Cream would be beautiful with your colouring,' Llinos said. ‘What does Eynon think?'

‘He doesn't seem to mind what I wear. I think he wants the whole thing over and done with as quickly as possible, but all the arrangements seem to have run away with us.'

Shanni was taking a great interest in the conversation. ‘Do you know,' she said, her voice smooth, cultured, ‘I always thought Mr Morton-Edwards was in love with you, Mrs Mainwaring?' Shanni's eyes were narrowed and Llinos felt as if she had been slapped in the face. ‘He seems to light up when he's with you.'

‘We are old friends, nothing more.' Llinos spoke more sharply than she intended. She felt Isabelle's eyes on her.

‘Are you sure?' Isabelle said softly.

Llinos met her gaze. ‘I can only speak for my own feelings.' She glanced towards Shanni. ‘And you are both well aware of where my affections lie.'

‘He's too young for you!' Shanni said. Immediately her colour rose. ‘I'm sorry,' she said. ‘I know I should be grateful for all you've done for me but I think you are behaving very badly.'

Llinos stared at the girl in astonishment. She knew Shanni disapproved of her relationship with Dafydd but how dare she speak out so rudely?

‘My own mother was dragged out of the house, out of her sick bed, as you well know.' Shanni seemed unable to stop. ‘She was humiliated, beaten for what you are doing now. Is there no justice?'

‘That's quite enough!' Unnoticed, Dafydd had entered the room. He glared at Shanni. He was more angry than Llinos had ever seen him. ‘You are a guest in my house and you use insulting language to a lady who has shown you nothing but kindness.' He stood in front of the fire. ‘I will have to ask you not to come here again. I'm sorry, but I have no other choice.'

‘Does that include me?' Isabelle asked. ‘For Shanni is only saying what everyone else is thinking.' She rose to her feet. ‘I'm sorry, Dafydd, but your attention has been anywhere but on the cause. You have neglected meetings, let us down when we expected you to be leader and I for one am concerned for your reputation.'

‘You should be concerned for your own, Isabelle,' Dafydd retorted. ‘Your own behaviour hasn't been impeccable, has it?'

‘Eynon is unmarried and, in any case, what I do is my own business,' Isabelle said hotly.

‘I couldn't agree more,' Dafydd said, ‘I'll stop interfering in your private affairs if you'll stop interfering in mine.'

‘Stop this!' Llinos said, rising to her feet. ‘I never wanted any of this ill feeling. I have enough to worry about without listening to such petty spite, especially from you, Shanni.'