Beggars and Choosers (52 page)

Sali took a deep breath as she looked down the table. She hadn't known how Geraint would take the news that their aunt had left her entire estate to Harry, but she hadn't been prepared for his rage and bitterness, or Gareth and Llinos's resentment.

‘As you are family, it will not be charity. Mother, you and, when they finish their education, Gareth and Llinos, will be welcome to live here rent and household expenses free until Harry is thirty. I am only sorry that I have no money to give any of you.' She braced herself for another outburst, ‘So I am afraid that you will have to work to support yourselves.'

‘And no doubt you'd like me become a skivvy like you!' Llinos left the table.

‘Llinos –'

‘You're disgusting. A disgrace to our family. I only wish Father were alive so he could see how low you have sunk.' Llinos left the table and flounced off. A few minutes later, Gareth followed leaving Sali alone with Geraint.

‘I could suggest to the Board of Trustees that you be given a position in Gwilym James or the Market Company,' Sali ventured, after a few minutes of strained silence.

‘As Mr Horton's son's lackey?'

‘You will have to be trained before you can take a senior position, but as family, once you are familiar with the business, I am sure the trustees will offer you a similar post to the one Mansel filled.'

‘So I can spend my life working to increase my bastard nephew's wealth.'

She inhaled sharply. ‘Thank you so much for letting me know how you regard my son.'

‘Deny that Harry is Mansel James's bastard and you deny his right to Aunt Edyth's inheritance.' He refilled his whisky glass with an unsteady hand.

‘Not quite. Mansel was her nephew, but I was her great-niece.'

‘And you were both her darling favourites.' He emptied his glass with a practised flick of the wrist.

‘I am sorry, Geraint,' she apologised brusquely, ‘but I cannot do any more for you. As I am sure Mr Richards explained, under the terms of the will, my hands are tied.'

‘But you are sitting pretty. Use of Aunt Edyth's jewellery, living expense-free in this house, with all household bills paid and accounts for you and Harry in the store.'

‘But no actual money,' she reminded him acidly. ‘Will you at least consider my offer?'

‘Oh, we'll live here with you to give you and your bastard respectability,' he mocked. ‘Between them, Mr Richards and Uncle Morgan have seen to it that we have no choice.'

‘Mr Richards –'

‘Should have seen what was going on.'

‘You probably saw more of Uncle Morgan when you returned in the holidays than Mr Richards did. Did
you
realise what he was up to?' she asked quietly.

‘No.' He pushed his plate aside, pulled a pack of cigars from his pocket and lit one.

‘The police may still find the directors of the Conversion of Savages and Pagans Missionary Fund.'

‘And they may not,' he retorted, refusing to be consoled.

‘I am sorry, Geraint. If I had any money I would give it to you, but I don't.'

‘When did you get to be so bloody saintly?' He helped himself to another whisky and she fought the impulse to tell him that he had drunk enough.

‘I am not, Geraint. But the last few years have taught me to accept things that cannot be changed.'

‘We could challenge Aunt Edyth's will. Owen is in prison and likely to be hanged, so there's no risk of him taking any inheritance from you.'

‘We?' she questioned.

‘Aunt Edyth died before we found out that Uncle Morgan had stolen all my money ...'

‘Do what you want, Geraint,' she said wearily. ‘It's been a long and dreadful day. I'm going to bed.'

‘For God's sake, Sali.' He downed his whisky and confronted her. ‘Have you lost all your pride? We are Watkin Joneses, for Christ's sake. People look up to us. We have a position to uphold in the town and for that we need money.'

‘Then we should work for it.'

‘Skivvying for others as you have done?'

‘It is honest work.'

‘And you can't wait to get back to it, can you?' he taunted. ‘Or is it Lloyd Evans you can't wait to get back to. Dear God, Uncle Morgan was right,' he breathed whisky fumes into her face, ‘you are a whore. And a whore to a nobody. A bloody collier –'

‘If you force me to choose between living here with you, the way you are behaving right now, and housekeeping for the Evanses I know which I'd prefer,' she shouted, finally losing her temper.

‘Then go back to their bloody hovel.'

‘I may do just that. But never forget, Geraint. This is my son's house, not yours.' Pushing past him, she left the room.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Sali woke the next morning with a horrible feeling of dread. It wasn't the sick, relentless despair she had woken to every morning in Mill Street, but it was a fear of yet more confrontation with her brothers and sister, the people she should be closest to.

She washed and dressed herself and Harry, and breakfasted with him alone in the dining room. Afterwards, she asked Mari if she would join her in the library so she could pose the question uppermost in her mind.

‘Would you mind very much if I asked you to look after Mother again?' Sali studied Mari's face and tried to gauge her feelings.

‘I would much rather look after Master Harry.' Mari wrinkled her nose. ‘Mrs Watkin Jones has made it clear that she is not happy having to live here and either I've forgotten how difficult she is, or she's become much more demanding since I left Danygraig House.'

‘I think Mother has become worse since you left. I spoke to the doctor last week. He has suspected for some time that Uncle Morgan has been giving her far more laudanum than he prescribed. He warned me that it is not going to be easy to reduce her dose, but as her health is badly affected, she needs to cut down drastically and immediately. But with care and patient nursing he is hopeful that it can be done.'

‘My care and patient nursing?' Mari enquired dryly.

‘You always were good at handling her.'

‘And you were always good at dishing out compliments and getting people to do what you wanted them to.'

‘If I was, that was a long time ago.' Sali handed Harry a pencil and a piece of paper, as he sat on a chair beside her.

‘What about Master Harry?' Mari questioned. ‘He will need a nursemaid.'

‘Not immediately.'

‘You can't possibly look after him with a house this size to run,' Mari protested.

‘In my experience of growing up in Danygraig House, it is the housekeeper and staff who run a house this size, not the supposed mistress.' Sali glanced down the list of staff Mr Jenkins had compiled for her that morning. ‘Aunt Edyth lived simply for the last few years of her life, but there appear to be more than enough servants to do everything that needs to be done, even with Geraint and Mother living here full time and Gareth and Llinos returning for the holidays.'

‘I agree,' Mari said shortly, ‘but someone in your position should have a lady's maid.'

‘What position?' Sali scoffed.

‘Mother of the heir to Ynysangharad House and Gwilym James.'

‘“Mother of” isn't any position at all,' Sali countered emphatically. ‘And to get back to my question, will you look after Mother, please, Mari?'

‘For you, not for her.'

‘You are an angel. Now I can go and see Mr Jenkins and the housekeeper, tell them about your new position, reassure them that no one will lose their job and they can continue to run the house just as they did for Aunt Edyth.'

‘You look tired, Miss Sali,' Mari observed, as Sali left her chair. ‘You should rest.'

‘That is the sort of thing you used to say to me when I was twelve years old and Mother first took to her bed.'

‘And you never paid the slightest attention to me then.'

‘No, I didn't.' Sali took Harry's hand. ‘I have no idea why I should feel tired. For the past four years I have cooked, cleaned, scrubbed, washed and ironed for sixteen hours a day, and sometimes more, and I didn't feel as exhausted as I do now.'

‘Perhaps it's because you haven't given yourself any time to mourn Mrs James – or Mr Mansel,' Mari added quietly.

‘I did all my mourning for Mansel four years ago, and every day I was married to Owen Bull. But now, I have Mr Jenkins and the housekeeper to see, letters to write and a list to make of all the things I want discussed at the first Trustees Meeting.'

‘And you still think that are going to have time to look after Master Harry yourself, without the help of a nursemaid?'

‘For the moment.' Sali smiled down at her son. ‘Master Harry always comes first.'

‘Do me a favour, Miss Sali?'

‘Anything, Mari,' Sali answered absently as she picked up the list of staff.

‘Put yourself second.'

‘I think I had too much to drink last night, Sali,' Geraint apologised clumsily as he blundered in on Sali in the library.

‘I know you did,' she said, without looking up from the letter she was writing.

‘Look, until I can sort out something more permanent, we would be very grateful if you allow us to stay here. And despite what I said last night, I do know that it is down to me to find somewhere for Mother, Gareth, Llinos and me to live.'

‘I have already arranged everything that needs to be done on the domestic front with Jenkins, Mari and the housekeeper. You will be pleased to know that Mari is going to look after Mother.' Sali signed her name with a flourish at the bottom of the page she'd written, returned her pen to the rack and blotted her letter.

‘I am surprised you managed to persuade her. Mother has become impossible since we moved her into this house. And she still flatly refuses to believe that Uncle Morgan has stolen all our money.'

‘Mari has always put our family before herself.' She poured him a cup of coffee from the tray the parlour maid had set on a table behind her and handed it to him. ‘I suggest you don't put milk in that.'

The significance of her suggestion wasn't lost on him. ‘I won't.'

‘If you want to help,' she indicated the pile of correspondence on the desk, ‘I have only answered a tenth of the condolence letters we received.'

‘I'll look at them after chapel. Are you and Harry going to morning or evening service?' He sat at the table.

‘Neither.'

‘You don't go to chapel?'

‘We wouldn't be welcome,' she informed him flatly. ‘I was probably only allowed in yesterday for the funeral on sufferance for Aunt Edyth's sake. When Gareth and Llinos come downstairs, ask them what time train they intend taking back to their schools tomorrow.'

‘What about Llinos's fees?'

‘If the trustees turn down my request for a loan that she can repay, I have a ring Mansel gave me that I can sell. I was keeping it to pay for Harry's education but now his future is assured, I think it important that you, Gareth and Llinos make independent lives for yourselves.'

Geraint left his seat and carried his coffee to the window. He gazed over the fields towards the river and the town on the opposite bank. ‘I have considered your suggestion that you ask the trustees to find me a position in Gwilym James.'

‘And?' She sat back and looked at him expectantly.

‘It would be a start. I'm not saying that I will make a career for myself there, but at least I will earn some money while the police look for the swindling directors of the company Uncle Morgan gave my money to.'

‘I will bring it up at the Trustees Meeting tomorrow.'

‘Thank you, Sali.'

‘Thank my ... son.' She paused in the hope that he'd remember and feel guilty for calling Harry a bastard.

‘We will be living off Harry's charity, but it was you who made the offer and even after the foul way I behaved last night, you haven't made me beg for any favours.'

‘You're my brother, Geraint.' She looked him in the eye, but his gaze shifted uneasily from hers. She began to wonder if the life she had been forced to lead for the last four years had created an unbridgeable gulf between them.

An hour before lunch Sali set the unanswered letters aside, cleaned the nib of her pen and screwed the top on the inkbottle. She wanted to write to Lloyd but every letter she had begun had started and ended with ‘Dear Lloyd'.

She simply didn't know what to say to him. She even considered writing to his father instead, but felt that a thank you for everything he and his sons had done for her and Harry might sound like a goodbye. And she wasn't ready to say that. Not yet. But neither could she offer any assurances that she would return to live with them.

Eventually she decided to postpone writing until after the Trustees Meeting and she had finished finalising all the domestic arrangements that needed to be made in the house. And there was the question of her mother's health, school fees and finding careers for Llinos and Geraint. Then she had to persuade Geraint to think in terms of finding permanent employment, rather than rely on the police to recover anything of his fortune.

She dressed Harry in his cap and jacket, put on her coat and hat, and picked up the letter she had written to Rhian to tell her that Owen wanted to see them, suggesting that if Rhian could face him, they meet in Cardiff. Refusing Jenkins's offer to post her letter for her or order the carriage, she left the house.

It was a cold, damp, miserable autumn day and a long walk down the drive for Harry, but after they had posted the letter, Sali continued towards Taff Street. No sooner had the melodic sounds from one chapel choir faded as they passed it, than the air was filled with hymns from the next. A few people nodded to her and she returned their acknowledgements, but she knew they were meaningless gestures. Her ‘sins' had relegated her to the role of pariah. A position she had reinforced when she had taken the post of housekeeper to colliers. The crache might have flocked to the funerals of her aunt and Mansel in a house her son owned, but no one other than Mr Richards had sought her out and she had overheard Llinos, Geraint and Gareth discussing luncheon and dinner invitations after the mourners had left. Invitations that hadn't been extended to include her.

She stopped outside Danygraig House. The windows and doors were already boarded, waiting for the demolition hammer, and she stood at the gate for a moment, remembering, grateful that there were more happy memories than sad ones. She knew Harry was watching her but she didn't want to burden him with stories of what had been lost. Not when he had so much to look forward to.

Instead she walked up to Market Square and stopped outside Gwilym James. Bored with the window display of women's dresses and household linens, Harry tugged at her hand and pulled her across the cobbled square to the toyshop.

While he studied a display of more elaborate and expensive horses and carts than the one she had bought him for Christmas, she reflected on his future. As Mr Richards had said, he was going be an extremely wealthy young man, but if she told him about his inheritance now, would he end up with the same expectations of a life of ‘managing' his investments as Geraint? Or would he strive all the harder to acquire the education and skills he would need to run an organisation that employed people dependent on the wages he could pay?

‘Look, Mam, look at that enormous horse and cart full of barrels. I think they are beer barrels.'

‘Do you now?' She unconsciously used one of Mr Evans's favourite expressions as she crouched down to Harry's level. ‘And what do you know about beer?'

‘It tastes funny.'

‘And how do you know that?'

‘Uncle Joey gave me a sip at Christmas when you weren't looking.'

She smiled. ‘He would.'

‘When are we going home, Mam?'

‘Don't you like living in Ynysangharad House and having your own big bedroom, a toy room and a bathroom?'

‘Yes, but it's not like home and I miss the uncles. Do you think you can lift those barrels out of the cart?' he asked with one of his maddening switches of conversation.

‘I don't know, darling. We'd have to go in when the shop is open and ask.'

‘Can we?'

‘We can ask, but I don't have enough money to buy it.'

‘I know, but I could see it and touch it.'

‘Yes, you could.' She looked at him. What did she want for him? And more important still, what would he want for himself when he was older? If she made the wrong decisions on his behalf, would he end up despising her and being as ashamed of her as Geraint, Gareth and Llinos were?

The idea was even more painful than the thought of losing him to a boarding school in four years' time.

Sali returned to the house to find the sergeant closeted with Geraint in the drawing room.

They've found Uncle Morgan,' Geraint announced.

‘His corpse, Mrs Bull. In the river at Taff's Well,' the sergeant elaborated.

Sali sat abruptly in one of the chairs. All she felt was an immense sense of relief that she'd never have to face the man again.

‘His pockets were filled with stones.' Geraint poured her a brandy.

‘Anything else?' Sali asked.

‘Less than a pound in small change. A pair of silver cufflinks, a wallet, a Bible and a hymnal,' the sergeant listed. ‘On the basis of the evidence, it appears to be an open and shut case of suicide, but there'll have to be a post-mortem and an inquest. Someone from the family will have to identify the body in order to claim it.'

‘Not me.' Sali took the brandy Geraint handed her and laid the glass untouched on the table beside her.

‘Mr Watkin Jones?' The sergeant looked expectantly to Geraint.

‘Am I right in thinking that if I claim the body I will have to pay the funeral expenses?'

‘You are, sir.'

‘You are aware that my uncle bankrupted me.'

‘Yes, sir. But if no one claims the body, your uncle will be buried at the parish's expense in a pauper's grave.'

‘I am afraid I cannot help you, Sergeant,' Geraint demurred. ‘I am living on my nephew's charity as it is.'

‘Mrs Bull?'

Sali shook her head. ‘As Geraint says, Sergeant, we are all living on my son's charity and I am not prepared to ask the trustees of my son's estate to advance burial funds for a great-uncle who has done my family such a disservice.'

‘Would you like me to inform you when the funeral is to take place?'

‘No, thank you, Sergeant,' Sali said politely.

‘Mr Watkin Jones?'