Arian (3 page)

‘How good of you.’ Calvin’s shoulder seemed to hunch away from her as though he was embarrassed at her nearness.

‘Can I come up to the manor now. Please,’ she added as an afterthought.

‘That will be all right.’ Calvin glanced at her with a complete lack of interest that somehow piqued Arian. She knew she wasn’t looking her best, her hair needed washing and her clothes were faded and torn but all the same, she was used to seeing lust in the eyes of any man who took the trouble to really look at her.

She knew about Lord Temple’s troubles. Everyone in Swansea had heard that he’d been cuckolded by his wife, that he’d learned that the child she’d borne was not his and had cast her out without a penny to her name, and that he’d even closed down Eline’s business enterprises, cleverly depriving her of any profit from them.

Arian had worked for Eline briefly, but that was before Price Davies had started his campaign of hatred against her. Arian shivered, pushing away the painful memories.

‘Are you cold?’ Calvin Temple looked down at her, his eyebrows raised, a frown creasing his forehead. He was a handsome man but there was an impatience about him, about the way he moved, even about the way he spoke.

‘I’m all right,’ Arian said with feigned indifference. ‘I’m used to being out in the weather.’

The drive leading to Stormhill Manor was tree lined and long and when the impressive structure came into view, Arian took a deep breath wondering how Eline Temple could have brought herself to give up all this for a love match with a cobbler in some poky rented room.

Calvin Temple led the way into the spacious hallway and when a young servant girl bobbed a curtsy to him, he gestured for Arian to be taken to the kitchens.

‘Tell Mrs Bob to find her something to eat and to see to it that there’s a room ready and some warm, clean clothing, er …’

‘Bella, sir and if it please your lordship, where can I get clothes from, none of us her size, see?’

Calvin glanced first at the maid’s rounded body and then he turned to where Arian stood, slight and delicate.

‘I see the problem.’ He put his hand in his pocket and took out some money. ‘Run out and fetch some clothes then, Bella. You can be trusted to buy skirts and undergarments, can’t you?’

Before Arian could protest, he turned away. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said dryly, ‘it can come out of your first month’s money, you won’t owe me a thing.’

He opened the doors to what appeared to be the library, numerous volumes of books ranging the walls, protected by glass doors. A cheerful fire gleamed in the hearth and a leather-topped desk and chair took precedence over any other furniture in the room.

The doors closed and Arian was suddenly shut out. She almost stepped back a pace as though she’d been slapped and then she looked into the curious face of the maid.

For a moment they stared at each other in silence and then Bella sniffed. ‘I know who you are, that Arian Smale what killed her own father, that’s who you are.’

Arian moved closer. ‘Well if I am,’ she said with menace, ‘don’t you think you should be wary of me in case I feel the urge to strike again?’

This was a prospect Bella obviously hadn’t considered and she backed away nervously. ‘I didn’t mean nothing, I ’spects you had your reasons. Look,’ she said coaxingly, ‘I’ll take you to Mrs Bob’s kitchen and while you have a nice drink of milk I’ll run out to the shops and get you some clothes.’

Arian followed the girl to the regions below the stairs from where the mouthwatering aroma of cooking meat drifted upwards. A woman of uncertain years stood over the huge range, her thick ankles jutting like tree trunks from beneath the hem of her skirt. Her shoes gaped, as though the leather was unable to cope with the spread of her feet.

‘Mrs Bob,’ Bella said with a deference that wasn’t lost on Arian, ‘this is a new maid that the master’s taken on.’

‘Oh, what are your duties, girl?’ Mrs Bob lifted the lid of one of the saucepans and sniffed at the contents before adding a little seasoning.

‘I don’t really know,’ Arian said, ‘I suppose I can do whatever needs doing.’

‘That’s what I call talking good horse sense.’ Mrs Bob looked at her more closely. ‘Don’t talk like no maid to me, though, you been edycated I’d say.’

‘She’s Arian Smale, you know the one that killed her dad,’ Bella chimed in and stepped back quickly. ‘I’d better go and get them clothes then.’ Hastily, she donned her coat and disappeared through the back door.

‘Sit down gel, have a cup of my special tea.’ Mrs Bob indicated a chair and Arian felt that she was being done a great honour.

‘Thank you.’ She sat at the table that had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life and gratefully took the hot cup of tea that Mrs Bob poured for her.

‘What’s all this then, girl?’ she asked, ‘More to the tale than that silly fool Bella knows, I’ll be bound.’

‘It’s a long story,’ Arian said slowly, ‘there was a fight, my father had a gun in his hand, he had already put a bullet into the shoulder of another man when I came into the house. I tried to take the gun away from him.’ She shrugged, ‘It went off, my father was killed.’

‘That’s that then,’ Mrs Bob said, ‘you’ll hear no more about it, I’ll see to that.’ She poured some more tea. ‘There hasn’t been a great deal of luck in your young life by the look of you,
Duw
we’ll have to see that changes from now. You’ll have a good job by here with us if you work hard and get along easy-like. His lordship don’t bother us too much except when things go wrong. Fair, he is, mind and we won’t have nothing said about him.’

She rose to her feet. ‘Now how about peeling some spuds for his dinner? Thin I want them peeled mind, they cost a pretty penny these days so there’s no wasting good food, understand?’

‘I understand.’ Arian found herself smiling. Mrs Bob might be strict, a martinet even, but she had a good heart. She had taken Arian’s word about the killing without question.

Arian shuddered and pushed the thoughts of her father away into the recesses of her mind where all her unhappiness lay. There were enough bad memories hidden there to last her a lifetime.

By the time she went to bed it was past midnight. Arian lay in the unfamiliar room listening to the breathing of Bella in the bed opposite. The maid had forgotten to buy her any nightclothes when she went on her shopping jaunt and so Arian had climbed beneath the blankets in her shift.

‘Arian,’ Bella whispered and Arian turned over, the springs creaking a protest beneath her.

‘What?’ she asked quietly.

‘Do you mind talking a bit?’ Bella asked. ‘I can’t always get off to sleep straight away-like, a bit afraid of the dark I am, see and Mrs Bob won’t allow no candles in bedrooms.’

‘Go on then, talk if it helps,’ Arian said in resignation. She ached, her eyes were heavy, but Bella’s next words brought her awake at once.

‘My dad used to hurt me,’ she said. ‘I don’t blame you for killing your dad, not if he was like my dad.’

Arian bit her lip in silence and Bella, encouraged, continued to talk. ‘Used to come to me when I was in bed, he did,’ Bella said in quiet despair, ‘used to lift up the bedclothes and get in with me. Hurt me bad, he did, mind, and me afraid to call out for someone, anyone to come and take him off me. Is that why you killed your dad?’

‘No,’ Arian said gently. ‘My father had a gun, he was drunk, all I did was try to take the gun away from him. It was an accident.’ She leaned up on one elbow and looked across at the lump of Bella’s body in the other bed.

‘I’m sorry about what your father did to you,’ she said softly. ‘Some men are just evil.’

‘Not his lordship though,’ Bella’s voice was suddenly warm. ‘A saint he is, a fine man, he don’t do nor say nothing smutty-like, it was awful the way his wife treated him.’

‘Aye, well that’s none of our business,’ Arian said softly, ‘now I’ve had enough of talking, I’ve just got to get some sleep.’ She turned over to face the wall, hugging the rough blankets close to her. She felt warm and protected and for the first time in many a long night, she felt safe even from her nightmares.

The house in World’s End was typical of those surrounding it; tall, and hidden away in a damp, cobbled court. The room at the back of the building was small and cramped, the walls though freshly painted were marked by patches of damp. The curtains on the window hid cracked panes of glass that none the less shone with much polishing. In one corner of the room stood a bed draped with the same cheap, bright material as the windows. It was clear that no effort had been spared to make a home out of one room.

A young woman sat in her chair nursing a small child, an expression of tranquil happiness on her face. On the hob beside her bubbled a pan of
cawl
, the succulent smell of lamb and vegetables drifted to the small, cobbled yard outside.

William Davies lifted his head and sniffed the soup appreciatively, glancing through the open door of the small workshop that in reality was little more than a shed, into the single room where Eline sat holding their son, his face softened; she was beautiful and she was his.

William Davies was a strong, handsome man with just a wing of white streaking his hair. He wore the leather apron of the cobbler and in his hand was a dog, the clamp cobblers used for holding the leather-upper to the sole. He was sitting astride a small bench with an iron last between his strong thighs. Nails jutted from between his teeth and he removed one and deftly hammered it into place in the leather sole of the boot he was mending. He paused as though becoming aware of the silence from within the room.

In a quick movement, he rose and stood in the doorway of his mean workshop. Across the small distance that was the back yard, Eline looked up and met his eyes. She smiled and Will felt his blood flow faster. Would he never cease to want this woman who slept in his bed, who held his son at her breast but who was wife to another man?

He left his work, crossed the cold yard in a few quick strides and moved into the warmth of the room where was all he held dear in the world.

He knelt on the floor and leaned forward, his lips longing to feel her mouth open in passion beneath his. ‘Eline,’ he murmured, ‘I love you.’

He kissed her and his hand brushed her breast, touching lightly the silky head of his son. He wanted to hold them both to him, his woman and his son.

‘Come on now, love,’ Eline spoke softly, ‘stop working, you’ve done enough for today, see, the light is going.’

‘I’ll stop working if you come to bed with me,’ he teased. ‘It’s about time I had some cosseting.’

‘It’s about time you washed the smell of leather from your hands,’ Eline said though her voice was gentle. ‘About time you took your son off my hands so that I could cut some bread and put out the supper.’

He sighed. ‘You are a hard woman Eline, I don’t know why I put up with it.’ He eased the baby from her arms and Eline fastened her bodice but not before William had glimpsed the sweet fullness of her breast.

He put the baby into the sagging armchair and placed cushions around the child. ‘Sleep now, son, I want to make love to your mother.’

‘No, Will,’ Eline protested but even as she spoke, her eyes were upon him, aware of his arousal. He took her in his arms and drew her against him, his hands slipping from her waist to the firmness of her buttocks. She drew a ragged breath, and with a sense of triumph he knew she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her.

It was a few short steps to the bed and he gently drew her down, stretching himself out beside her. He buried his head against her breasts, and her hands were in his hair, pressing him to her.

He loved her so much that he wanted to possess her every time he looked into her beautiful eyes and saw his desire reflected there.

He took his time, arousing her to the depths of passion he knew she possessed and when he finally joined with her, she gave a shuddering sigh and clung to him as though she was drowning in a beautiful sea of emotion.

Later, Will sat opposite Eline at the small table in the cramped room and watched as she ate delicately, like a dainty bird. She pushed her dish away and then her slim fingers curled in the handle of her cup. Will, looking at the delicate hands now reddened with work, wondered if she missed the skills that she once held so dear.

Eline had been a successful designer, a worker in leather whose talent, genius some might say, had helped her rise to the heights in the shoe-making business. Not only could she fashion the leather but she could draw beautiful designs and create them in masterly style. But now, because of him, she had lost it all.

‘Why are you staring at me like that?’ she asked, a smile curving her lips.

‘Because I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you,’ he said soberly. ‘Eline, the fine house, the luxurious life-style, most of all your work – do you miss it?’

‘Wait here,
bachgen
,’ she said softly. ‘Let me show you what I’ve been getting up to in between feeding our son and looking after you.’

She went into the tiny scullery and he heard a drawer being opened. Eline returned, her face flushed with excitement and with some sketches held out before her like an offering.

‘I haven’t entirely given up on my ambitions,’ she said. ‘Calvin thought he’d left me with nothing, but he couldn’t take my love of you and neither could he prevent me wanting to design shoes.’

Will looked in amazement at the fine drawings deftly executed. The footwear seemed to spring alive from the paper, bold riding boots intricately tooled side by side with dainty, feminine slippers. He was silent for a long time and Eline sighed heavily. ‘Don’t tell me, I’ve lost it.’

‘Lost it?’ Will said incredulously. ‘My love, you are better than ever. These are fantastic.’ His face softened, ‘Do you realize that the great Hari Grenfell began her business right here, in World’s End?’ He took Eline’s hand and kissed it. ‘I was her apprentice so I know what difficulties she overcame before she was a success and what Hari can do, you can do, my love.’

He smiled as he looked into her eyes, love flowed between them, an almost tangible thing, and Will reached forward, unable to prevent himself from touching Eline’s cheek.