Daughters of Rebecca (6 page)

‘I'm from the slums,' Shanni said frankly. ‘I'm an orphan and Mrs Mainwaring was good enough to take me in.'

Rosie was taken by the girl's honesty. ‘You don't look like a maid. Oh, I'm sorry, that was rude of me.'

‘Shanni is not a maid,' Llinos said easily. ‘She's more a companion – a lively and energetic one at that!'

‘So we have something in common, then,' Rosie said. ‘I was companion to Alice Sparks. She
cared for me and looked after me and I'll always be grateful to her.'

A silence fell, but it was a comfortable silence. Rosie stared out of the window at the passing scenery, feeling calm and even content for the first time in weeks. She was going home.

When at last the coach drew to a halt, Rosie's heart lifted as she alighted on the boundary of her own front garden. She looked at the house, and a smile transformed her face. The windows gleamed with polishing; the door was surrounded by roses, the small garden neatly kept. ‘You've had someone up here working,' she said to Llinos. ‘It looks lovely and I know I'll be happy here.'

‘It was Watt who did the garden,' Llinos said quietly. ‘And Watt who brought in a local woman to clean for you.'

Rosie felt a brief sense of happiness. So her husband cared enough to prepare the house for her. That was something small to cling to.

‘Come on, then,' Llinos said. ‘Let's have a conducted tour. I can't wait to see inside.'

Rosie led the way through the short passage to the front parlour. From the light, sunny room the view was breathtaking. The land in front of the house slanted away and there, below, was the sea with a ship's sails outlined hazily against the horizon.

‘It's lovely!' Shanni said. ‘It's really lovely. Anyone could be happy here.'

‘You must come and stay with me sometimes,' Rosie said, ‘if Mrs Mainwaring can spare you. Come, let me show you the rest of the house.'

A small book-lined room led off from the parlour and from there, too, the view was splendid. The kitchen was compact with a carefully cleaned grate over which hung a large stew-pot. Behind that was the scullery, with a cold slab running the length of the room.

‘You'll have some staff, won't you, Rosie?' Llinos asked. ‘I think the woman Watt brought in is looking for a position. Otherwise it will be lonely for you up here on your own.'

‘I'll get someone in I expect,' Rosie said, but she knew that the first few days in her new home were hers and hers alone.

‘So in the end it was me who had to go to fetch Rosie,' Llinos said softly. She was standing at the window in the bedroom she shared with Joe, watching the moon make patterns on the lily-pond. ‘I was so sorry for her. She just couldn't hide her disappointment.'

Joe came up behind her and put his arms around her waist, bending his head into her neck. ‘That's your trouble, you feel for everyone.' He turned her to him and kissed her throat, his lips warm. Llinos knew he was roused, he wanted her, needed her, and she wanted him. ‘I love you, Joe Mainwaring.' She felt gladness fill her heart. He was here, wasn't he, right here at her side? He was still her husband and even though he had fallen from grace once she could not punish him for ever.

‘I know you do, Mrs Mainwaring,' he said softly. ‘And I love you more than life itself.' He nuzzled his head against her breasts and she heard
his ragged breath with a feeling of joy. Even now, after years of marriage, she had the power to make Joe desire her.

‘Let me take you to bed.' Joe drew her across the room and laughing, they fell together on to the silk quilt. ‘You look like a young girl,' he said, the laughter vanishing as his hand cupped her breast. ‘As beautiful as the day I first met you.'

He made love to her with all the vigour of a young man. His body was still lean and well-muscled, his skin like silk as she ran her hands over his back. He murmured sweet words of love and Llinos closed her eyes, swept away by the passion they shared.

Later, as they lay naked, entwined in each other's arms, Llinos kissed Joe's shoulder. She was so happy to lie in bed with him, feeling his warmth close to her.

‘What are you thinking?' he asked. ‘You're very quiet.'

‘I'm happy with my life,' she said. ‘That's what I was thinking.' She felt his hand smooth her hair from her face and she caught her breath, loving him so much it hurt.

After a while, she sat up and drew the sheets over her breasts. ‘I'm worried about work, though, Joe,' she said. ‘There's trouble in the pottery. The men are resentful about the ongoing effects of the Poor Law and the farmers are arranging public debates to argue about why the price of the toll-gates keeps rising all the time. These are troubled times.'

Joe leaned on one elbow, his dark hair swinging
forward. ‘I can see why the people are angry,' he said. ‘With the farmers being charged such a lot of money to pass the gates, with the tolls increasing almost monthly, the result is that the price of flour and other necessities must rise. The people just can't afford it.'

‘But men dressing up as women because the Bible says, ‘‘The daughters of Rebecca will storm the gates'', where is that going to get them? Why can't they deal with their grievances in a civilized manner?'

‘That's been tried and it's failed.' Joe sat up and propped himself against the wooden headboard. ‘I suppose the workers feel the need to take matters into their own hands.'

‘I can understand that, but I do worry about Lloyd growing up in a hostile world. He has ambitions to go into politics. Has he spoken to you about it?'

‘I knew.' Joe smiled. ‘But don't worry, Lloyd has plenty of common sense. He realizes nothing can be achieved overnight and by the time he leaves college the matters with the farmers and the toll-gates will probably be settled. He might even have changed his mind about what he wants to do.' He touched her cheek. ‘Now, stop worrying about things that might not happen. Live for the present. It's all we really have.'

He extinguished the lamp and Llinos felt him warm against her. ‘Come, I'll hold you until you sleep and in the morning all your troubles will have vanished.'

Llinos closed her eyes, knowing Joe's reassurance was well-intentioned but nothing
would be settled easily: that much was becoming clearer every day. Still, he was right about one thing: that she could do nothing about the problem now, perhaps not ever. She curled against him and slept.

THE FAIR HAD
come to town, and the streets of Swansea were thronged with revellers. Shanni felt excitement blossom as she pushed her way towards World's End. She wished Lloyd were here to share the moment: she felt in need of company and Lloyd was very good company indeed.

During Lloyd's holidays from college he spent as much time with her as he could. They shared the same ridiculous sense of humour. He never put on airs and graces and never acted like a spoiled rich boy the way some offspring of the gentry did. He was handsome, very Welsh-looking with his strong features and his thick hair curling around his forehead.

Had things been different, Shanni might have married a man like Lloyd Mainwaring. She knew he was far above her socially and that one day he would find a wife among the high-society ladies who lived on the west side of Swansea but, still, it was nice to dream.

Shanni grimaced. Lloyd would probably marry someone like Jayne Morton-Edwards. Now, she
was
a spoilt brat. As for Shanni, she would never marry, never give herself into the keeping of any man: they simply weren't to be trusted.

Shanni had once believed that Llinos and Joe Mainwaring were a couple made for each other until one of the maids had told her differently. One night, in a talkative mood, Flora had claimed that Mr Mainwaring had foisted a bastard child on some Indian woman. Shanni had been shocked. If a wonderful lady like Mrs Mainwaring could not hold her man, what hope would she have?

She was startled out of her thoughts by a hand touching her arm. ‘Shanni! It's me, Rosie Bevan. It's nice to see a familiar face in the crowd.' Rosie stood smiling at Shanni's side. ‘I was supposed to meet my brothers here but they have let me down and I've been feeling so lonely and self-conscious all on my own. Would you mind if I walked around the stalls with you?'

Shanni shook back her dark red hair. ‘I'd like some company too,' she said. ‘I know what you mean about being alone – it's as if I'm here just to get myself taken up by some young man or other.'

It was not that she felt lonely, Shanni was happy in her own company and more than capable of dealing with anyone forward enough to talk to her, but half the fun of the fair was sharing the excitement with someone else.

Rosie linked arms easily and, for a moment, Shanni was surprised – she was not used to such familiarity. Shanni and her mother had loved each other dearly but Dora Price had never been demonstrative.

‘Oh, look!' Shanni drew Rosie to a stall hung with ribbons in a variety of bright colours. ‘Aren't they lovely?'

She watched as Rosie ran her fingers through the silk and selected a ribbon in shiny olive green and one in gold. ‘One for you,' she said, ‘and one for me.' She handed the green ribbon to Shanni. ‘It should be a sweetheart giving you ribbons for your hair,' Rosie smiled, ‘but there's time enough for that and, anyway, it gives me pleasure to buy you a small gift.'

Shanni was pleased. She held the silk ribbon, knowing it would suit her red hair. ‘You are so generous!' she said. It was not that the ribbon cost a great deal of money but it was a gift from a lady Shanni hardly knew. She immediately tied her hair in a loose bun away from her face and Rosie, watching her, laughed. ‘Now you look even younger and more innocent than ever. Have you got a beau, Shanni, or are you still looking?'

‘I'm not going to get married.' Shanni spoke with determination. ‘I don't want to be any man's servant.'

‘Oh dear.' Rosie led her to the cordial tent. ‘You get us a seat and I'll order us a drink. It's so hot I think I'll faint if I don't have some refreshment.'

Shanni sat on the roughly made wooden seat and stared round at the groups of people laughing and talking, enjoying the fun of the day. Some ladies were well dressed, with parasols and fine gowns of silks and satins. Shanni looked at her own muslin dress, pretty enough and sprigged
with bright cornflowers but marking her lowly place in society none the less.

She watched as Rosie came back across the dried grass lifting her skirts clear of the dust. Rosie was an enigma: she spoke like a girl from the poorer quarters yet she appeared wealthy – left money, so downstairs gossip had it, by her late employer Alice Sparks. Still, Shanni could not hold that against Rosie even though she believed a woman should fend for herself. Rosie was a sweet, generous person, and it was no wonder Alice Sparks had wanted to show her appreciation.

As Rosie came towards her Shanni realized she was very beautiful. What was wrong with Watt Bevan that he did not choose to live with his wife?

‘The man is going to bring our drinks in a moment.' Rosie sank into her chair. ‘You're staring. Have I got a spot on my face or something?'

‘Sorry!' Shanni smiled. ‘It's none of my business but I was just wondering why you don't live with your husband.'

She saw Rosie look away, a blush spreading over her neck and cheeks, and Shanni was ashamed. ‘That was rude of me!' she said quickly. ‘It's none of my business. My tongue sometimes runs ahead of my thoughts.'

‘It's all right,' Rosie said. ‘I don't mind telling you about Watt and me. We married for all the wrong reasons. Watt felt he had to look after me and my brothers because my mam fell sick.'

‘Well, that was good of him, wasn't it?' Shanni asked.

Rosie shook her head. ‘My mother Pearl
worked at the pottery for years and Watt admired her, wanted to do his best for her family.' Rosie sighed. ‘So he married me. And, yes, it was kind of him. But it wasn't right, and when I realized that Watt had married me out of pity I left him and found myself a job as a companion to Alice Sparks.' Her voice faltered a little. ‘I miss Alice so much. We were such good friends in those last months of her life.'

‘I'm sorry,' Shanni said. ‘I shouldn't have asked. I have no right to stir up all your past worries like that. I mean, I don't really know you, do I? But you're so pretty and so well dressed I think any man would be a fool to let you go. And do you know something? I envy your independence, Rosie.'

‘You envy me?' Rosie sounded incredulous. ‘But you're young with all your life before you. You have lovely red hair and such a creamy skin, you're a beautiful girl.' She paused. ‘And so far you haven't fallen in love with the wrong man.' She rested her hand on Shanni's arm. ‘Use your youth wisely, Shanni, and don't be blinded by love because those loving feelings can play you false.'

‘Good afternoon, ladies.' Watt Bevan had stopped beside his wife and Rosie's colour deepened. She bowed her head staring at her hands in her lap. The silence was embarrassing.

‘Good day to you, Mr Bevan,' Shanni said quickly. She looked up at him, evaluating him afresh. She had seen him only as the manager of the pottery, a stern man who laughed seldom. Now she knew that he was compassionate, that he
had felt duty-bound to take care of a young girl and her brothers.

‘Watt, how nice to see you.' Rosie had regained her composure. She spoke formally, the Welsh vanishing from her voice. ‘Please sit down, have some cordial with us.' She looked towards the table at the edge of the tent. ‘The man was supposed to bring it to us ten minutes ago.'

Watt turned and lifted his hand. As if by magic a boy appeared, eager to serve him. No doubt he was hoping for a few pennies to put in his pocket for waiting on such a powerful man as Watt Bevan, pottery manager.