Daughters of Rebecca (32 page)

‘Dafydd is very wrapped up in himself and his love for a married woman just now,' Isabelle said. ‘You do know that he and Llinos Mainwaring are living together, don't you?'

‘Of course I do! I've known for a long time they were involved with each other.' She remembered the day as if it were yesterday. She had been shopping with Llinos and they had met Dafydd by accident. Or perhaps it had been by design?

‘We had tea together,' she said. ‘I was so embarrassed by the way they were staring into each other's eyes that I just walked out and left them to it. I can't understand how a woman like Llinos Mainwaring could be so lacking in moral scruples.'

‘Don't be so quick to judge, and keep your voice down.' Madame Isabelle put her finger to her lips as the maid rapped on the door and entered almost immediately with the tea tray.

‘Put the tray there, Sarah,' Isabelle said. ‘Shanni, will you pour, dear?' Isabelle waited until the maid had left the room then leaned forward in her chair. ‘Anyway, let's talk about happier topics, shall we?' She smiled, and in that moment Shanni realized that Madame Isabelle was very beautiful for her age. ‘I have had a proposal of marriage. What do you think of that?'

‘Oh, Madame, I am so pleased for you!' Shanni did her best to appear happy at the unexpected news, but she could hardly help wondering what would become of her when Isabelle took a husband.

‘I shall be very happy to be Mrs Eynon Morton-Edwards.' Madame's eyes were misty. ‘I will have to buy some new clothes, a bridal dress – a discreet gown, of course. You must come with me and advise me, Shanni.'

Shanni stared at her. It was strange that a woman of her mature years would want to marry at all. ‘Have you set the date for the wedding yet?' Shanni asked, a little anxiously.

‘Not exactly, but it won't be for a few months yet, I shouldn't think.' Isabelle appeared to hug herself. ‘But I hope I will not have
too
long to wait.'

Shanni wondered if Madame would forget the cause of the poor farmers once she was Mrs Morton-Edwards. The problems of the toll-gates seemed to have been washed from her mind.

This was the very accusation she had levelled against Dafydd, and here she was, acting in exactly the same way, putting herself first.

Madame Isabelle seemed to pick up on her thoughts. ‘Dafydd has been persuaded to come over tonight, Shanni. Perhaps then we shall get some sense out of him. I want to know what his plans are. We must still fight to reduce the price of the tolls.'

Shanni's heart missed a beat. Just the mention of Dafydd's name was enough to make her tremble. Perhaps one day he would come to his senses and realize that Llinos Mainwaring was far too old for him. All at once she was filled with resentment. Here she was, a young and by now well-educated young lady, with no suitable beau to come calling on her, while older women like
Llinos Mainwaring and Madame Isabelle seemed to have everything they wanted.

‘Why so glum?' Madame Isabelle asked, taking a muffin from the plate. ‘Not worrying about your own chances of marriage, are you?'

‘Well, yes, I am.' Shanni thought it best to tell the truth. ‘The only one who seems to like me is Pedr, and he isn't really suitable, is he?'

Madame Isabelle looked steadily at her plate. ‘Why do you say that?'

Shanni was aware of the strange note in the other woman's voice and knew that she had sounded disparaging. ‘It's not that I don't like him but he wants different things from life.'

‘I see.'

Shanni had the feeling that she saw all too clearly. ‘Apart from which I'm in love with someone else, someone I can't have.'

‘I know.' Madame Isabelle smiled then. ‘But you are very young. The young fall in and out of love a dozen times before they settle.' She took another bite from her muffin and the butter spilled on to the front of her gown. ‘Damn!' She brushed at the stain ineffectually. ‘Now I'll have to change. And so will you.' She looked at Shanni's dusty boots. ‘After tea you must go to your room and find yourself something nice to wear. We must look our best by the time my guests arrive for supper.'

She leaned back in her chair. ‘And in the morning we shall do some shopping for my trousseau.'

Shanni put down her cup and stared long and hard at Madame. ‘You're wrong,' she said. ‘I
won't ever love anyone else. I know my own mind and nothing will change it.'

Before Madame Isabelle could make any comment Shanni left the parlour and hurried up the winding stairs. She was conscious that the house smelt of beeswax and lavender, and the homely aroma of bread baking in the oven. Despair possessed her. Was she doomed to spend her days alone, never to have a home of her own? Would she be unloved for the rest of her life?

Shanni heard the rattle of wheels outside and realized that Graves had left for Swansea. Here she was in Madame Isabelle's house, and here she would have to stay. Suddenly there were tears in Shanni's eyes. Her whole life had taken a turn for the worse and her future was uncertain. Llinos Mainwaring had a lot to answer for.

JOE SAT IN
the large, airy drawing room of the house his father had left him and stared through the window at the rolling green countryside. Out there, somewhere on the horizon, was the border between England and Wales. Swansea seemed a million miles away.

He missed Swansea: it had become his home; it was where he had married and where his legitimate son had been born. Now, miles away from all he loved, life seemed meaningless. He had once had a wife and a mistress, a legitimate son and a love-child. Now he had nothing but ghosts and memories.

Joe was honest enough to recognize that the fault was his: Llinos had been so hurt when he had taken another woman. Like a thoughtless fool he had moved Sho Ka into the house in Neath, in close proximity to Swansea. In doing so he had ground Llinos's pride into the dust.

Joe was racked with pain whenever he thought of his wife in bed with Dafydd Buchan. It had been like a knife twisting inside him when he saw them together. Llinos had been flushed with the
joy of it, her features softened by passion. Once that passion had been his. Now he had thrown it away, and Dafydd Buchan had stepped in to take advantage of the situation.

The man was brave enough, and Joe gave him due credit for that: Buchan had stood his ground even though Joe was acting the outraged husband, bursting into the house and threatening him. Buchan was the sort who would defend himself and Llinos to the death, and it might well come to that.

Joe glanced at his pocket watch. Lloyd would be arriving soon. He wanted to talk to his father, to find out exactly what was happening. How would he take it when Joe told him that Llinos had left him?

But, whatever happened, Lloyd was finished with college. He had made that perfectly plain in his letter. He wanted to travel the world, to see different nations, his father's nation of American-Indians. Lloyd was searching for his roots, which Joe understood.

Joe was eager to see his son again, but dreaded telling him about his mother living with another man. It was agony to think of it. Had Llinos suffered like this in imagining him with another woman?

Joe could not deny that he had enjoyed making love to Sho Ka. She was beautiful, exotic. She had shown him great passion. Perhaps he even loved her a little. But to admit that was the ultimate betrayal. And, in the end, it had all been for nothing. Joe remembered how he held Sho Ka in his arms until the big sleep took her. And then
their son had drifted into another, remote world. Now there was no heir to take up the leadership of the Mandan tribe, no great chief to fight for the survival of the few remaining people who had escaped the terrible plague. Had it all been in vain? Had his entire life been in vain?

Joe felt desperate. He stood up and squared his shoulders: sitting in the large empty house feeling sorry for himself did no good at all. He would go out and walk, see the fields and rivers, and feel the cool breezes bathing his brow.

A heavy rain had begun to soak the fields and gather on the leaves of the strong English oaks, which bent under the weight. It was as if the whole world was encased in grey, a tearful world where only misery had free rein.

Perhaps he should shake the dust of England from his feet and go back to the plains of America. There, the hills towered above deep rivers; there, a man had space to breathe. And yet, in his heart, Joe knew he had unfinished business in Swansea. He could not walk away from his wife. He must at least make an attempt to win her back. But was it a hopeless task? Had he lost her for ever?

That night Joe ate no supper. Not even the cajoling of the rheumy old cook, hired for the duration of his stay, could make him enjoy the hot soup and the roly-poly pudding soaked in wine.

He took a drink of port to his bed, and sat up against the pillows, staring into the darkness beyond the windows and wondering if his spirits could possibly sink any lower. At last he slept, but it was a restless sleep where images taunted him.
He saw the ghosts of his mother and Sho Ka. He felt the pallid skin of his dead baby son. And through the long hours of the night he felt as though fire consumed him.

It was in his bed of sickness that Lloyd found him the next day. Joe heard his voice: he spoke low as a man does in the presence of sickness. A cool hand rested on his brow and he saw Llinos, her dark hair tangled about her face, her eyes wide with fear. Had she come to him in a dream?

‘Come, Joe,' she said, her face floating before him, ‘you are a brave, strong man, you must fight the fever.' She crept into bed beside him and he held her close. He made love to her with the last of his strength and then, spent, he slept. He woke briefly and saw her beside him. He clung to her, knowing that with the coming of morning she might disappear, but in his heart there was hope that Llinos still loved him.

One morning Joe woke to find the sun washing palely through the bedroom. He felt very weak, could barely lift his head from the pillow, but his mind was clear.

‘Llinos?' He murmured her name and she was there, her hand on his cheek.

‘Joe, you're awake. The fever has broken!' She sat at his side and held his hand close to her breast. ‘Oh, Joe, you've been so sick, I thought we were going to lose you.'

‘Llinos,' he whispered, ‘my life is meaningless without you.'

‘Hush, I'm here now and so is Lloyd.' She forced a smile. ‘Our son took charge. He hired a nurse then came to Swansea to fetch me.'

‘You came willingly?'

‘How could I not come when you needed me so badly?'

Joe felt his eyes begin to close but he knew that a healing sleep was claiming him. His wife was there, at his side, and that knowledge gave him the strength to face life again.

‘So.' Lloyd stood in the drawing room, his hands thrust into his pockets. ‘You are going back to him, aren't you, Mother?' Lloyd's face was filled with anxiety. ‘Buchan, I mean.'

Llinos swallowed hard. ‘Lloyd, I don't know what your father has told you but . . .'

Her voice trailed away as Lloyd held up his hand. ‘Father told me nothing, at least not intentionally.' Lloyd sighed. ‘My father ranted in his fever about another man, Dafydd Buchan, who had taken you away from him. How could you, Mother? How could you betray my father with another man like that?'

‘I can't begin to justify what I did, Lloyd.' Llinos rubbed her eyes tiredly. ‘I was so beaten when Joe took Sho Ka as his mistress and even had a child by her. I felt I was no longer a real woman. I felt that no man would ever love and desire me. Then Dafydd came into my life.' She shrugged. ‘I can't give him up, Lloyd, I just can't.'

‘But you will stay with Father for the time being.' Lloyd spoke forcefully. ‘We will take him home with us to Swansea. There we can nurse him back to health. He's a broken man, Mother. Can't you see that?'

‘What about me, Lloyd?' Llinos was suddenly angry. ‘What about
my
feelings? I suffered the humiliation your father inflicted on me. I died a thousand deaths thinking of him in another woman's arms, loving her, giving her his baby when I could no longer conceive. Was I supposed to take all that without protest?'

‘Most women do,' Lloyd said mildly.

‘I am not most women!' Llinos was on her feet. ‘I wrested a livelihood from clay. I dragged my father's business out of poverty and fought back against fate with all my strength. I am not cut from the same mould as the spoilt, rich wives who turn a blind eye to their husband's infidelities.'

‘I know you are a proud woman, Mam,' Lloyd spoke to her now in Welsh, his voice softening, ‘but if he can forgive, can't you?'

‘I can try,' Llinos said. ‘But I won't give Dafydd up. I can't give him up. If you don't understand, then so be it.' She paced across the room. ‘How do you think he feels with me running off to nurse my sick husband? Dafydd is not happy with my decision to come here, but he supports me in it.'

‘You can't expect me to condone what you are doing, Mother,' Lloyd said. ‘I can see how it's affecting Father. I saw how sick he was, all because of you. He might have died of the fever.'

‘That's why I came.'

Lloyd stared moodily out of the window and Llinos saw that his upper lip sported a moustache and that on the strong curve of his chin a beard was growing.

‘Of course, the real reason for Father's sickness
is a broken heart. He can't bear it that you have left him.'

‘I told you, your father has no monopoly on broken hearts. I had a broken heart and spirit when your father left me for another woman,' Llinos said. ‘Lloyd, this is not revenge. I just have to be with Dafydd, that's all.'

‘Don't you love Father any more?'

‘Yes! I don't know. Oh, just leave me alone, Lloyd, please. My head is reeling with all these questions.'