Daughters of Rebecca (19 page)

‘Oh, please, Madame, don't stop me coming,'
Shanni said. ‘I promise I won't get into any trouble.'

‘You knew more about the movements of the men than I did,' Isabelle said. ‘You could so easily be in trouble right now. Come, Shanni, tell me the truth. What did you know about the raid?'

Shanni hesitated. ‘I knew what the men were planning but only because Pedr and I are friends and he told me about it.'

‘Don't get ideas in that direction, my girl,' Madame Isabelle said warningly. ‘Pedr is a good lad but he's a firebrand.'

‘Oh, I know that,' Shanni said. ‘Pedr is all right but I have more in common with Lloyd Mainwaring than I do with Pedr Morgan.'

‘Well, perhaps you are aiming too high if you have a fancy for the Mainwarings' boy.' Madame Isabelle's tone had softened. ‘I think they would prefer a bride like Jayne Morton-Edwards for their son.'

Shanni was piqued. Madame Isabelle was saying she was not good enough for Lloyd. On the other hand, it would hardly do for her to know that Shanni had fallen in love with Dafydd Buchan. ‘Don't worry, I'm not chasing after Lloyd, he and I are just friends. In any case, I know Mrs Mainwaring has plans for me to meet some of the boys from the better families of Swansea. Not the gentry, of course, but tradesmen's sons and the like.'

‘Well, then, you've clearly got your head screwed on the right way. I tell you what, I'm expecting a visitor so what if I give you a basket of goods to take to Pedr Morgan and his mother?
Mrs Morgan would welcome some fresh butter.' Madame Isabelle pulled the silk cord and a bell echoed faintly from the back of the house. ‘I'll get Sarah to put some in a basket, but I warn you, don't overstay your welcome and don't walk home in the dark.'

‘I won't.' Shanni was excited. Seeing Pedr would give her the chance to find out exactly what had gone on at the Dwr Coch, or the Red Gate. She waited in a fever of impatience until the maid brought in the basket, covered with a pristine white cloth. The girl bobbed a curtsy and handed it to Shanni.

Madame Isabelle accompanied Shanni to the door and gave her directions to Farmyard Lane. ‘Be sure to act like a lady, now,' Madame Isabelle said. ‘Use the fine speech I've taught you and make us all proud of the way you conduct yourself.'

‘Don't worry, I won't let you down.' Shanni set out from the smart area where Madame lived, feeling like a lady bountiful with the basket over her arm. Pedr would be surprised to see her at his door and she only hoped she would have the chance to talk to him alone.

The streets of Llanelli were unfamiliar but Shanni was as at home there as she was in Swansea. The sound of the Welsh tongue was all around her, the people were friendly and some called a greeting to her. It was a bright day, a day when she should remember the debt of gratitude she owed to Mrs Mainwaring as well as to Madame Isabelle.

As Shanni left the leafy suburbs and made her
way to where the kilns of the Llanelli pottery shimmered against the sky she realized, perhaps for the first time, how far she had come from her days in the slums of Swansea. She had almost forgotten the poverty, the grime, the lack of food. She had become used to good clothes, to folk waiting on her, bringing her well-cooked meals. She had grown used to privilege and saw how easily she could lose it if she stepped out of line.

The potter's house was one of a row of crouched, small-windowed cottages. The narrow doors and the low lintels revealed how cramped living conditions must be. Even so, compared to the place where Shanni had been born the pottery cottages were respectable, grand, even. The doorsteps were scrubbed, the windows cleaned until the glass shone, and Shanni knew that the women fought a constant battle with the clay dust from the pottery.

Mrs Morgan turned out to be a white-haired lady but with a glow in her dark eyes that reminded her of Pedr.

‘I hope I'm not intruding, Mrs Morgan,' Shanni said pleasantly. ‘Madame Isabelle heard that Pedr was poorly and asked me to bring a few goodies for him.'

‘Oh,
Duw
, so come in, Miss.' Mrs Morgan bobbed a curtsy and Shanni wondered afresh at how far she had come from her roots. Now she spoke in the cultured tones of the gentry. She was dressed in fine linen and her shoes were made of well-seasoned leather. All the trappings of a well-brought-up young lady had made her respectable in the eyes of the poorer people.

She handed the basket to the old woman. Poor Mrs Morgan would never realize that working people were as good as the gentry any day. The rich had just grasped at life for themselves.

The inside of the house was sparkling clean. The small front room was furnished with a polished mahogany chest of drawers and a worn sofa. A small table stood near the window holding a vast plant that threatened to overflow and fill the tiny parlour.

‘Pedr, there's a young lady to see you. Are you decent,
boy bach
?'

Pedr was seated in an armchair in the tiny kitchen. He wore only a flannel vest and working breeches. His arms were bare and muscular and covered with curling dark hair.

‘
Dewch i mewn
,' Pedr said. ‘Come in, I won't bite.' He smiled painfully with swollen lips. ‘Shanni, sit down and, Mam, stop dithering and get us some of that tasty blackcurrant cordial you made, won't you?'

‘
Siaradwch Cymraig, boy bach
.'

‘Mam wants me to speak in Welsh. She doesn't understand much English,' Pedr said.

As soon as Mrs Morgan left the room, Shanni sat close to Pedr. ‘Tell me what happened. By the look of your poor face you got a fine beating.'

‘Let's say a gate accidentally fell on me, Shanni.' His smile was cheerful in spite of his bruises; one eye was almost closed. ‘Gates have a funny habit of falling down when you take an axe to them.'

‘And Mr Ceri Buchan was there, that was unexpected. What happened to him?'

‘
Darro!
Mr Buchan should never have been there. We weren't to know he would be passing the gate at the very time we meant to do the business.'

‘Will he be all right?'

‘Aye, he'll survive. He's got plenty of money for doctors, hasn't he?' He sighed. ‘Still, Dafydd won't like it that his brother got hurt, and he'll blame us for going ahead without him.'

‘Where was Dafydd, then?'

Pedr gave her a dark look. ‘You don't know?'

‘No! I wouldn't be asking you if I did.'

Pedr leaned closer and as his lips brushed her ear Shanni resisted the temptation to pull away from him. ‘Our Dafydd has been fishing in another man's stream,' Pedr whispered. ‘He's having what you posh people would call ‘‘an illicit affair with a married woman''.'

‘What?' Shanni was startled. A pain spread from her heart to encompass her entire body. ‘Who with?'

‘Mrs Mainwaring. Who else? Don't tell me you didn't know – and you living in the same house as her? Everyone is saying her husband's left her over it, and who can blame him?'

‘No!' Shanni moved away from Pedr as his mother returned to the room carrying two cups of cordial. Shanni took one, but her hand was trembling. It could not be true. Dafydd and Llinos Mainwaring lovers? It was impossible.

‘Thank you, Mrs Morgan.
Diolch yn fawr
,' she repeated in Welsh. But her mind was racing. ‘She's too old for him,' she said to Pedr. ‘It must be a mistake. What would Dafydd see in a woman
of her age?' But the more she thought about it, the more she realized Pedr was telling the truth. Mrs Mainwaring was a woman of taste and culture, and Dafydd would be more her sort of man than Joe Mainwaring, who was half Indian. ‘No wonder Mrs Mainwaring is giving me so much freedom,' she said. And no wonder there was a bloom about Mrs Mainwaring, these days.

‘Haven't you noticed anything wrong between husband and wife, then?' Pedr said, and he was laughing at her.

‘Well, I thought they had quarrelled over something because Mr Mainwaring came home from America and then, after a few days, he left the house again.'

It all added up, now that she thought about it. How could Mrs Mainwaring cheapen herself by having an affair with a man so much younger than herself?

‘Sinking in now, is it?' Pedr winced. ‘Damn my eyes!' he said feelingly, touching his face lightly. ‘Trust me to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

‘Well, I'd better get back to Madame's house.' Shanni hoped Pedr did not notice how agitated she was. ‘She told me not to be out too long.' She suddenly felt ill, and the more she thought of Dafydd with Mrs Mainwaring the more angry and hurt she became.

‘Ah, Madame Isabelle is a wise woman. She knows I have my eye on you, my girl.'

Shanni made a half-hearted attempt to smile: it would not do to let Pedr see how upset she was.
‘Don't try to fool me, Pedr Morgan. I know you have your eye on half the girls in Llanelli!' She moved to the door. ‘When do you think you'll be able to work, Pedr?'

‘In a day or two,' he replied. ‘As soon as I can see to put a piece of clay on the wheel I'll be there.'

Mrs Morgan showed Shanni out. ‘Thank you kindly, Miss,' she said, in halting English. ‘And tell Madame I am . . .' she hesitated, trying to find the word in English ‘. . . grateful.'

Shanni walked rapidly away from the narrow streets. The clay dust in the air made her cough, and it was difficult to keep back the tears – she was so angry! How could Mrs Mainwaring be so sly, so immoral? She was cheating her husband and it did not seem to bother her one bit. She went about her everyday tasks as though nothing had happened.

Shanni was glad to return to the more pleasant area where Madame lived, where trees grew fresh and green and where flowers coloured the hedgerows. She enjoyed a fine standard of living now, she reminded herself, and angry though she was, she must do nothing to jeopardize her position. Still, it would not be easy to disguise her feelings of disgust. Mrs Mainwaring was supposed to be a lady born yet she was carrying on like a loose woman. Money and position did not make a lady of anyone.

Shanni clenched her fists; she would be going home to Swansea in the morning. Graves would come to fetch her and take her back to the big house, to the luxury she had grown accustomed
to. But Shanni would never forgive Mrs Mainwaring for what she'd done. She had taken away the only man Shanni would ever love.

‘Dafydd, don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known any of this was going to happen.' Llinos sat up in bed with the silk coverlet pulled over her breasts. Outside the hotel the rumble of carriage wheels and the calling of street vendors heralded the morning. ‘The men acted without your permission and your brother was unfortunate enough to be hurt. I don't suppose anyone meant to fire a gun – indeed, I'm surprised any of the protestors would be in possession of one.' She paused. ‘But, in any case, you can't blame yourself for anything that happened when you weren't there.'

‘Perhaps I should blame myself, though,' Dafydd said edgily. ‘I should have been there. You are distracting me from my objectives, Llinos. I should have my mind on other things instead of lusting after you.'

‘Oh, and is that how you think of your involvement with me?' Llinos was cut to the quick. ‘Just another woman to take to your bed. I had hoped I meant more to you than that.'

Dafydd returned to the bed. ‘Of course you do!' He took her face in his hands. ‘I could take my fill of women who would offer me the comfort of their body,' he kissed her lightly, ‘but you, my Llinos, are special. That's why I came back so early this morning to be with you.'

She knew he meant it. Dafydd was a well-to-do, intelligent man. He was also very good-looking.
As he rightly said, he could have his pick if all he wanted was a woman in his arms.

‘I must go.' Dafydd left the bedside and took his coat from the large cupboard. ‘I still have work to do. We can't all sit back in luxury and allow the pottery to run itself.'

He was teasing and she knew it. ‘Ah, you slaves to industry, how difficult your lives must be.' She threw back her head and laughed, her happiness restored.

Dafydd stopped at the door. ‘I don't think you understand how very beautiful you are,' he said softly, ‘with your hair tumbling over your white shoulders and the look of a woman fulfilled in your eyes.' He opened the door abruptly. ‘If I don't leave now I never will. Until later, Llinos.'

Llinos washed and dressed at her own pace. Later she would walk to the shops and treat herself to some new undergarments. She felt the colour rise to her face as she imagined Dafydd removing her shift and her corset and laying her on the bed so that he could gaze at her body. He loved her so much. He would never stray, not in the way that Joe had.

Joe. The thought of him was like a knife wound. ‘Oh, Joe!' Llinos sank on to the rumpled bed and put her hands over her face. ‘I never meant to be unfaithful but you hurt me so much, Joe. Our love turned sour when you took another woman to your bed.'

Swallowing her tears, Llinos stood before the mirror and brushed her hair into place. At the door, she stood for a moment looking round
the hotel bedroom. Was this a shallow illicit affair? Or did Dafydd really love her?

The thought of going back to her home in Pottery Row held no appeal for her yet soon Graves would be fetching Shanni from Llanelli, they would meet in the large emporium in town, and after their shopping was complete Graves would drive them home. Home. It seemed an empty word and, all at once, a great sadness filled her heart.

Shanni was already seated behind the ornate glass windows of the emporium tea-rooms when Llinos arrived. She glanced up as if sensing Llinos's presence and, though she made a pretence of smiling, there was something mutinous about her expression. She looked like a child who had been denied a treat.

‘Mrs Mainwaring, I'm glad you've come. The waiter has been giving me odd looks, wanting me to give an order or something,' she said at once.