Sinners and Shadows (19 page)

‘I'll do it for you.'

‘No, you will not.' Suddenly and absurdly shy considering what had happened only moments before, she grabbed the sheet and pulled it to her chin. He took it from her fingers and gently tugged it away.

‘As you said earlier, my love, we are going to have to get used to this, and “this” includes me treating your body as my own.'

He left the bed and padded naked on bare feet to the washstand. He filled the toiletware bowl with cold water from the matching jug. Picking up his soap and sponge, he carried them over to the bedside cabinet, soaked the sponge and rubbed soap on to it. Tenderly, lightly, as if he were washing a child, he sponged first her face and neck and then her breasts.

‘Do you think that you will get used to me?'

She smiled up at him. ‘Eventually.'

He kissed her. ‘I am looking forward to loving you for the rest of my life.'

‘I was so surprised when you asked me to meet you here tonight; I forgot to ask how you intended to get away.' Geraint shook his napkin out after the waiter had taken Julia's bag and shawl and shown them to the table she'd booked in the Angel Hotel.

‘I told my father and stepmother that I was attending a regional suffragette meeting. There isn't one but my stepmother is so disinterested in events outside of Tonypandy, she won't find out.'

‘And your father?'

‘He rarely dines at home these days but I called into his office this afternoon. He knows we meet.'

‘You told him?' The memory of the confrontation he'd had with Mr Hadley had remained fresh in Geraint's mind, and he baulked at the thought of facing another angry father.

‘We were seen by someone who couldn't wait to give him the news.' She picked up the menu and proceeded to study it.

His face darkened. ‘You don't have to tell me; the expression on your face says it all. He doesn't think that I am a suitable companion for you.'

‘Is that all we are, Geraint? Companions?' she asked boldly.

‘For the moment,' he answered carefully.

‘And the future?' she pressed.

‘I would like to talk to you about that sometime soon.'

‘And I would like to talk to you about it now.' She leaned back so the waiter could set her napkin on her lap.

The waiter, who had come to know them well over the preceding months, brought a bottle of Geraint's favourite Moselle.

‘Your usual, sir?' he asked.

‘Please,' Julia answered.

He uncorked it at their table and poured a little into Geraint's glass. Geraint sipped it and nodded without really tasting it.

Julia looked up. ‘I'll have the set dinner please, Mr Edwards.'

‘You, sir?' The waiter stood with his pen poised over his notebook.

‘What is it?' Geraint suspected that he was about to eat his last dinner with Julia and he wanted it to be a good one.

‘Iced grapefruit, lobster soup, sole in aspic, chicken mousse, roast lamb, mint sauce, new potatoes, asparagus, fruit salad and whipped cream.'

‘Make that two set dinners, Mr Edwards.' Geraint handed his unopened menu to the waiter. He had long since stopped even the pretence of protesting at Julia's insistence on footing the bill when they ate in the hotel. Especially since, employing a tact and diplomacy he was beginning to recognize as typical of her, she slipped the money surreptitiously into his pocket so it would appear that it was he who was paying.

‘You know that I am financially independent,' Julia said after the waiter left.

‘Yes,' Geraint answered cautiously.

‘And, having no illusions about my appearance, I realize that my money is the only reason you invited me to spend time with you.'

Speechless, he sat back in his chair.

‘Our outings have been interesting, Geraint. I have enjoyed them.'

Unable to bear the suspense a moment longer, he said, ‘But you don't want to see me any more?'

‘On the contrary, I want you to marry me.'

He picked up his wine and downed the glassful the waiter had poured. Choking, he turned aside and coughed into his handkerchief before running to the gentlemen's toilets. He leaned over a sink and gulped in great breaths of air. He thought he had been clever in being kind to Julia, listening to her long, boring conversations about women's suffrage and the interminable number of classic and romantic books she read. And all the while she'd known that he was only after her money. And now
she
had the gall to propose to
him
when he was still torn between deciding whether or not he'd be able to live with her as his wife and give up Tonia, or if it would be worth him persevering with Tonia in the hope of squeezing a house and money out of Connie Rodney. Discreet enquiries had confirmed the lift boy's revelations, but they had also enlightened him as to Tonia's mother's distrust of, and hardened attitude towards, men.

He took half a dozen breaths to steady himself and returned to their table. The waiter had brought the iced grapefruit and Julia was sitting calmly, eating it.

‘This is excellent.' She took her bread roll, broke it into small pieces and buttered them.

He lifted his napkin from his chair and sat down.

‘Are you all right? You look very pale,' she enquired solicitously.

‘Did I hear you correctly?' he murmured hoarsely.

‘If you heard me propose marriage to you, yes.' She pushed her empty bowl aside, removed her napkin from her lap and dropped it on to her bread plate.

‘I intended to propose to you,' he mumbled reproachfully.

‘After you found out how much I was worth?'

‘Julia, I wouldn't have invited you to go out with me if I didn't like you. I am very fond of you –'

‘Can we be honest with one another, Geraint? You may have been the one to ask me out, but we both know that I was the one who did the manoeuvring. I couldn't have been more obvious if I had written “spinster wants presentable husband” on my forehead. I heard that you invited Elizabeth Hadley to the moving pictures after she came into her inheritance and that her family had prevented you from pursuing a courtship. So, I hoped you'd consider me instead.'

‘I liked Elizabeth. It wasn't the money …' The excuses sounded lame even to his own ears.

‘You are well educated, more than presentable, you have a degree in English from Balliol College, Oxford, and you intended to live the life of a gentleman on the income from your investments before your uncle embezzled and lost your inheritance. It is hardly surprising that you're looking to repair your fortune through marriage.'

‘You are remarkably well informed,' he said resentfully, conveniently forgetting that she had only researched his background with considerably more success than he had hers.

‘You are the subject of a great deal of gossip among women with daughters of marriageable age in Pontypridd.'

‘So it would appear.' Seeing the waiter staring at them, he picked up his spoon and began to eat his grapefruit.

‘From appearances, I'd say that you hate working in Gwilym James.'

Deciding that he had nothing further to lose by being honest, he replied, ‘I do.'

‘And I hate living with my stepmother. I want my independence, Geraint, and I would have that if you married me. As my husband, you would be in control of my money. We would have to live together if we wanted to be accepted in decent society, but it wouldn't have to be a marriage in anything other than name. And we would both be extremely comfortable. I have fifty thousand pounds invested in gilt-edged stocks as well as an income of four thousand pounds a year from rents on properties that my grandfather left me. I also have a sufficiently large float of capital in my bank account to buy, furnish and run a substantial house.'

Geraint's mouth dropped open. He had heard that Julia Larch was wealthy, but this was wealth on a scale that overshadowed his vanished inheritance.

‘You can live like a gentleman with nothing more onerous to do than manage my affairs. All I ask is that we share my four thousand pounds a year income and you leave my gilt-edged stocks intact to accrue interest.'

‘You would give me an income of two thousand pounds a year if I marry you?' he asked in disbelief.

‘Less your share of the cost of running our home, which, even if we live well, shouldn't come to more than eight hundred pounds a year and that would be split between us. I would like to manage the household.'

‘Naturally.' He was so taken aback he barely knew what he was saying.

‘You can choose where we live, the house and the furnishings. But I would appreciate it if you lived your life discreetly without causing any scandal or gossip that might reflect adversely on me. So, what do you say?'

The waiter took advantage of the silence to clear their plates and bring the lobster soup.

‘I do care for you, Julia,' Geraint said after the waiter left.

‘I believe you do – a little.' Even as she said it, Julia knew that she was deceiving herself.

He laid his hand over hers on the table. ‘How soon do you want to marry?'

‘Immediately.'

‘I will hand my notice to Mr Horton tomorrow morning.'

‘I thought if you were agreeable, we would elope tonight. There are places in Scotland where we could marry tomorrow.'

‘We have no luggage,' he pointed out practically.

‘I have a few essentials packed in the Gladstone bag I handed the waiter, including a spare toothbrush for you. A sleeper is leaving Cardiff station for Carlisle in two hours. From there it is a short train journey over the border to Gretna Green. I have a hundred pounds in my purse, as well as my cheque and bank books and the key to my safety deposit box in the Capitol and Counties Bank in Pontypridd. I have left letters in Llan House that will be found if I don't return there tonight. I think that covers everything, don't you, Geraint?'

Chapter Ten

‘You look as though you've lost a guinea and found a penny, Edward,' Mr Larch's junior partner, Cedric, commented when he joined him in his office at the end of the working day. ‘Trouble with the Morton Lewis will?'

‘Sorry, did you say something?' Edward glanced up from the documents in front of him.

‘I asked if there were any problems with the Morton Lewis will.'

‘None, it's perfectly straightforward.'

‘So it should be. I drew it up.' Cedric stretched out in the visitor's chair in front of Edward's desk. ‘So, if it's not the will it must be something else.' He waited a few moments and when Edward didn't volunteer any information, he said, ‘Miss Arnold mentioned that Julia called.'

‘She came to tell me that she has been meeting Geraint Watkin Jones.'

‘You didn't tell her that I'd seen them lunching together in the Angel Hotel?' Cedric removed two cigars from his top pocket and placed one on Edward's desk.

‘No.' Edward rolled the cigar between his fingers and thumb, and sniffed it before slipping it into the top pocket of his suit. ‘Thank you, I'll smoke it after dinner.'

‘Are you worried about her?' Cedric lit his cigar.

‘A little.'

‘That frown on your forehead, cuts deeper than “a little” worry warrants. You and Mabel still not getting on too well?' he enquired intuitively.

Edward dropped his pencil and sat back in his chair. ‘I don't want to talk about her.'

‘When you stop complaining, it has to be bad,' Cedric declared.

Without thinking, Edward repeated the observation he'd made to Julia. ‘I wish I'd never set eyes on the woman.'

‘You can't say that I didn't –'

‘Warn me? I should have listened to my friends at the time, but I didn't.' Edward left his chair and walked over to the empty fireplace, which was screened by a tapestry that Amelia had stitched. He stared dejectedly down at it.

‘What's done is done.' Cedric blew a perfect smoke ring. ‘You went crazy after Amelia died.'

‘I certainly behaved like a lunatic,' Edward agreed miserably. ‘Marrying the first woman who smiled at me. Julia saw through Mabel right away. She begged me to wait before rushing her to the altar but I wouldn't listen. And now not only me, but Julia and Gerald are suffering for my impulsive behaviour. All Mabel wanted was her own establishment and a place in a Ladies' Circle. Well, she certainly has that. And all I have is the expense of keeping her. Between her clothes, extravagances and the amount of entertaining she insists on doing, she costs me a bloody fortune.'

‘You were lucky that Amelia had her own money and unlucky that she left it to the children.'

‘My share of the business would keep any normal wife and family in luxury.'

‘Why don't you hold back Mabel's allowance until she unlocks the padlock on her drawers?'

‘You know what's really bloody awful, Cedric?'

‘Tell me?' The fact that Edward had sworn twice in the space of a few sentences spoke volumes for his state of mind.

‘Even if she let me, I couldn't bear to touch her, not now.'

‘Really?' Cedric was surprised. ‘She's not bad-looking. A bit prim and proper and plump for my taste, I never did go a bundle on women who look as though they are about to burst out of their corsets, but when needs must, I assumed she'd do. And you obviously must have thought so when you first met her.'

‘That was before I found out what she was really like.' Edward couldn't bring himself to confide the story of Mabel's attack on Rhian, even to Cedric. He abhorred violence of any kind in women. And the sight of his wife slapping a helpless maid and blaming her for an accident had destroyed the pathetic remnants of the feelings he'd once had. Feelings he now knew had been rooted in grief and loneliness, not fondness for Mabel.

‘So, you're saddled with a miserable, frigid woman.' Cedric was bored with the conversation. ‘You're not the first man to find himself in that predicament and you won't be the last. Getting maudlin won't help, but I know what will.'

Regretting the whisky-sodden evening that had ended with him confiding the details – or rather lack of details of his and Mabel's married life, Edward snapped, ‘You think a visit to Mrs Smith's brothel can cure everything.'

‘Not everything, just one small problem,' Cedric replied evenly. ‘And, it's not a brothel, it's a –'

‘Bordello?' Edward suggested.

‘Mrs Smith prefers “Gentleman's Club”. You really didn't give it a fair try, Edward. Just a single brief visit when you were feeling particularly low after Amelia died.'

‘I should have never allowed you to talk me into going with you,' Edward countered.

‘The trouble with you is you don't know how to enjoy yourself.'

‘I know when I'm not and I can't understand why you go there. You have a wonderful marriage with Elizabeth. And it's not as if she isn't attractive.'

‘She is and I love her dearly.' Cedric studied his manicured nails. ‘But she's also a wife and in my, granted, limited experience, because I've only had one, wives simply don't have the same repertoire as whores, or the willingness to experiment.'

‘When I was married to Amelia I never wanted to look at another woman.'

‘But Mabel isn't Amelia.'

‘You can say that again,' Edward muttered sourly.

‘So, why don't you come with me? As it happens, I'm visiting there tonight and Mrs Smith will be pleased to see and accommodate you.'

‘No.' Edward's refusal was final.

‘In that case, try looking close to home. You've two cracking maids in your house.'

‘I would never touch one of the servants!' Edward was horrified by the suggestion.

‘Then all I can say is more fool you. As you pay their wages, they're already beholden to you, and a couple of guineas on the side works wonders. I make a point of bedding ours – the young presentable ones, that is, before they've been in the house a month.'

‘Under Elizabeth's nose!'

‘Not literally. I wait until she's out of the way, visiting someone, or occupied in another room.'

‘And she's never suspected anything?' Edward asked.

‘She accepts that I'm a man, and as such, I have more pressing needs than her. But if one of the girls gets too cocky after I've had them, she sacks them. Two went last year. Since then she's hired ones that are built like dray horses and look about as appealing, which is why I now make two visits a week to Mrs Smith's.' He gazed thoughtfully at his cigar. ‘Do you think Elizabeth could have hired those ugly girls on purpose?'

‘Probably.' Edward gave a wry smile.

‘Damn her.'

‘Perhaps you're not as clever as you thought.' Edward sat back behind his desk. ‘I could never visit Mrs Smith's again. I'd be too terrified of meeting someone I knew there. A client or a business associate.'

‘If you did, they'd be there for exactly the same purpose as you, so they'd hardly think any the less of you for being there. Actually, in my experience it can be a social icebreaker. I hardly knew Judge Davies until I saw him leaving the room next to mine in Mrs Smith's one evening. Now Elizabeth and I dine regularly at his house.'

‘Judge Davies!'

‘You'd be surprised at the people who frequent Mrs Smith's. I'm getting the five o'clock train down to Cardiff. She has four new girls, country stock from Brecon.' Cedric left his chair. ‘For the sake of your health and your sanity, I suggest you come with me. Shall I send in the boy so he can take a message to Llan House to say you're dining out?'

‘I'm not expected home this evening.'

‘So you'll come with me?'

‘I really have made arrangements to dine out tonight.' Edward picked up his pencil.

‘You'd be better off with Mrs Smith than Maisie,' Cedric ventured. ‘At least Mrs Smith's girls have weekly medical checks.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I know all about the rooms next door and Maisie, Edward, but before you panic, I doubt anyone else does except the old woman you put in there to clean them for you.'

As denial was futile, Edward said, ‘How did you find out?'

‘I went to see how the builder was progressing. He's done a good job, and a quick one. He told me another week will see it finished. And your elderly widow is ecstatic with her job and accommodation. I believe the local vernacular is “she thinks she's in God's pocket.”'

‘She told you about Maisie?'

‘Good heavens, no. A nun on silence couldn't have been closer-mouthed than her. Maisie told me she has a weekly appointment with you. In fact, she was complaining it's not often enough for her purse or liking. In case you didn't know, she's very fond of her gentlemen.'

‘Damn her,' Edward said feelingly, wondering just who else Maisie had spoken to.

‘Don't tell me that you didn't know Maisie has a loose tongue?'

‘I've suspected it.'

‘She's particularly garrulous after she's been drinking. A couple of gins and she'll not only give you a full client list but any secrets men have been stupid enough to entrust to her. She'll service anyone who'll pay her a shilling, and in the street if there's nowhere better. You're taking a risk with her.'

‘So are you by the sound of it.' Edward shuffled the papers back in front of himself. ‘If I'm going to have this ready for the typewriter tomorrow morning, I need to get back to work.'

Accepting that Edward had dismissed him, Cedric went to the door. ‘You know what they say: all work and no play makes Edward a dull boy.' He glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Don't keep at it too late, will you, there's a good fellow? You'll make me feel guilty if you do.'

At half past six Edward finished drafting his last letter, left his desk and opened the door in the back wall of his office that connected the building with the one next door. His father had bought both when they were new. He'd rented the second to a corn and seed merchant who had signed a maintenance lease only to allow the place to fall into disrepair during the last few years of his tenancy. Edward had meant to set it to rights when the merchant retired, but there had always been more pressing business that demanded his attention. Shortly after his first wife's death he had received a notice from the council saying that they were ‘concerned' about its rundown state, but rather than tackle the problem, he had boarded up the windows.

His single unhappy foray to Mrs Smith's, coupled with Mabel's continued refusal to sleep with him after the disastrous experience of their wedding night, when she had screamed every time he had tried to touch her, had given him the impetus he'd needed to engage a builder to convert the building into three separate sets of rooms. There was a shop on the ground floor with living accommodation behind, which was almost ready to be advertised. He'd rented the second floor to a collier's widow in exchange for cleaning duties, the third floor he'd earmarked for his own use.

He walked into a windowless corridor and switched on the electric light, installed as part of the refurbishment, before opening the door to the first of four rooms he'd had decorated to his own specifications. It was a spacious and comfortable, if somewhat old-fashioned, sitting-cum-dining room. The wallpaper was plain light cream, the woodwork brown, the chaise-longue, easy chairs and sofa upholstered in a dark green William Morris chintz that had been popular a quarter of a century before. The faded curtains and fire screen were of the same material. The bookcase in the alcove alongside the hearth held a selection of his favourite novels. A solid oak table, upright chairs and sideboard were set in front of the window and the general impression was of a room that belonged in a late Victorian rather than Edwardian home. Mabel would have hated it.

He walked through to a tiny kitchen that held a zinc-topped cupboard, a small scrub-down pine table, two chairs, a Belfast sink and gas cooker. He sniffed the air, and his mouth watered. His dinner had been carried over from the White Hart and Mrs Ball, the miner's widow, had put it in the oven to keep it warm.

Taking a cloth from the table drawer, he lifted out the plate and set it on a tray that had been laid with a knife and fork, glass and bottle of beer. Removing the plate that had been placed on top of the food to stop it from drying, he smiled. Steak and kidney pie, cooked with plenty of onions, and served with lashings of mashed and roast potatoes, cabbage, cauliflower and gravy; a substantial, heavy meal and one he never failed to enjoy.

He returned to the passage and opened another door that led to a bedroom and adjoining bathroom with plumbed-in bath, sink and toilet. The alterations had cost a small fortune, but not as much as the ‘improvements' Mabel had made to Llan House, and on that basis he had decided to indulge himself. After washing his hands and face and checking the bedroom to make sure that the bed had been made, he returned to the kitchen to pick up his tray. He felt perfectly at home. But then he should. Everything in the rooms had come from the cellar he'd used to store the furniture he and Amelia had chosen together when they'd married, and Mabel had so summarily discarded.

He took his time over his dinner, eating slowly, savouring the food whilst reading
The White Peacock,
a novel by a new young writer, D. H. Lawrence, that a member of his club had recommended on one of his increasingly rare visits. He enjoyed his solitary dinners, preferring the selfish luxury of his own company and the plain substantial cooking of the White Hart, to the strain and formality of eating the fancy nine-course dinners Mabel ordered. He felt guilty at leaving Julia alone to face her stepmother at meal times but not enough to join them.

The last time he had dined at home, Mabel had invited Mrs Hodges and Mrs Hadley of the Ladies' Circle, and their respective husbands to join them for what was probably the most expensive meal that had ever been served at Llan House. Mrs Williams constantly complained to him about the cost of caviar and buying exotic fruit, fish and game out of season. Even Cook had asked to see him privately so she could grumble about the time it took her to prepare delicacies alien to her repertoire: Italian, French and Spanish sauces, cocktails, fancy cake decorations and icings. She'd also voiced her objections to being ordered to produce four times her usual quota of chutneys, pickles, preserves and mustards so Mabel could donate the extra to Mrs Hodges and Mrs Hadley's endless bazaars and bring-and-buy sales. Eventually, between the servants' moans, Julia's increasing reserve and Mabel's icy politeness, these rooms had become more his home than Llan House.