Daughters of Rebecca (34 page)

‘So you are never coming home again?' Lloyd was trying to speak reasonably, but he felt as if he could shake his mother. ‘You know he is sick at heart thinking of you and that man? You can't throw everything away, Mother, not for a man like Buchan.'

His mother turned to face him. ‘Please don't speak to me in that tone of voice.' Her eyes flashed fire and Lloyd knew, even though he towered above her now, that his mother demanded respect.

‘You were at college when your father carried on with Sho Ka so you didn't realize he was never here. He left me alone day and night and no-one was around to comfort me when I cried myself to sleep. You never saw the hours of anguish I suffered.'

Lloyd knew she had a point. His father had been the one to break the marriage vows first but, still, he had thought his mother had more self-control than to become involved with any other man.

‘I will not give up my lover, and if you or your father will not accept that then it's just too bad. Do you understand me?'

‘So you are choosing him over Father and me?' Lloyd asked.

Llinos picked up her bag. ‘Give my regards to Jayne, won't you?'

He watched as his mother was helped into the carriage by Graves. The man was old, he should have been pensioned off by now, but he would be loyal to Llinos to the death. In any case, the young man trained to take over had suddenly left his position so Graves had stayed.

Lloyd watched until the carriage had rolled out of sight along the bend in the road at the end of Pottery Row. His mother was a changed woman: she had left her home and her family for good, and there was nothing Lloyd could do about it.

‘Why, Dafydd, not another meeting?' Llinos said. ‘That's the third in little over a week. Not growing tired of me, are you?'

Dafydd held her close. ‘You know I love you with every fibre of my being, my sweet girl.'

She touched his mouth with her fingertips. ‘But this meeting is important, I know that, and I do understand. You've been neglecting your business and your friends because of me.'

Dafydd kissed her tenderly. ‘I would give up everything I own to be with you, and if you don't want me to go tonight then I'll stay at home.'

‘You go to your meeting,' Llinos said. ‘I will sit and wait until you come home and then, my darling, I'll tear off your clothes and ravish you!'

‘Is that a promise?' Dafydd tipped her face up to his.

Llinos leaned her head on his chest. ‘It's a promise,' she said.

‘I'm glad you managed to make it.' Madame Isabelle did not look too pleased as Dafydd walked into her parlour a great deal later than planned.

‘I was detained,' he said. ‘Business, you know.'

He became aware that Hayden Jones was staring at him from across the room. His eyes were narrowed and the expression in them was evil. He blamed Dafydd for the death of his brother-in-law, shot in this very house. Nothing would ever convince him that the shooting had been an accident.

‘Come, sit here beside me,' Isabelle said
quickly, sensing the tension between the men. ‘We've been discussing an attack on the town hall, the workhouse too. What do you think?'

‘I think we should be careful,' Dafydd said. ‘So far we have confined ourselves to legitimate targets, like the toll-gates themselves.'

‘Aye and a fat lot of good it's done us so far!' Hayden Jones said angrily. ‘We are like a fly swatting at an elephant. We're getting nowhere.'

‘I'm just advising we exercise a little caution,' Dafydd said evenly. ‘We can't risk jeopardizing our position by taking the protest into Carmarthen Town.'

‘It wouldn't be that you're losing your nerve, would it?' Jones's voice was hard. ‘Handy with a firearm when there's no danger to yourself, aren't you? Not so brave out there where the real trouble is.'

‘Please,' Isabelle said, ‘let's keep to the point, shall we?' She consulted her notebook. ‘We won't have the cover of darkness until late in the evening, so perhaps we should talk about the advantages and disadvantages of the summer weather.'

Hayden Jones did not give up easily. ‘I 'spect you're worried about that pretty face of yours, Buchan,' he said. ‘Afraid your married lady will go off you.' He smirked. ‘But she's no lady, is she, or she wouldn't be bothering with you in the first place, would she?'

Dafydd moved swiftly. His fist connected with Jones's jaw and the man went down as if felled by an axe.

‘Dafydd, please!' Isabelle was agitated but he did not even hear her.

He picked Jones up and frogmarched him out through the narrow hall. ‘Get away from here and don't come back, do you understand?' Dafydd pushed him out of the door.

Jones staggered a little on the uneven cobbles. ‘You're going to meet your match one of these dark nights, Buchan,' he said, ‘and I'll be there to see it, don't you worry.' He stumbled off into the darkness and Dafydd slammed the door. For a moment, he leaned against the stout wooden panelling, fighting for control. He wanted to kill the man for putting his tongue to Llinos's reputation.

Then he straightened his shoulders and returned to the meeting. ‘Right, let's get on, shall we?' he said, glaring around the room.

There was silence, and Isabelle rang the bell for the maid. ‘I think we'll all have some tea and take control of ourselves, shall we?' She stared meaningfully at Daffyd.

He sank back into a chair and wished he had never become involved in the struggles of the farmers. He was a rich businessman, he should be at home minding his own business, living his own life, not sharing it with trash like Jones.

He glanced at the clock. He had a feeling that this was going to be a very long evening.

‘
SO, ISABELLE, THE
date is set for our wedding. Are you happy?' Eynon took her hand and she looked up at him, knowing he would read his answer in her eyes.

It was warm in the conservatory. Trails of vines dripped moisture on to the flagged floor. He had built the conservatory for her – that proved his love for her, did it not? He had asked her opinion before building it on to the back of his house. It was his gift to her.

From the windows the splendid view was a delight. Green fields sloped down to the beach, and beyond the trees, the sea sparkled as if with a million diamonds. Once Isabelle was installed in his home, she would come to love it as he did, though she might find the grandeur strange, a little awe-inspiring at first.

‘I can see you're happy.' He bent to kiss her lips lightly. She clung to him, holding him tightly, as though afraid of losing him, and not for the first time, Eynon felt misgivings about the step he was taking. He enjoyed being with Isabelle. He found her an attractive, intelligent woman. They had
become intimate, and she thrilled him with her passion. But even though he listed her qualities to himself he knew that in his heart she would never match up to Llinos.

But Llinos did not return his love. Bitterness rose in his throat like bile. Even when her marriage vows were broken, it was not to Eynon she had turned but to a young upstart.

Dafydd Buchan might be rich, successful and undoubtedly handsome, but he was not all he appeared to be. Rumour had it that he was closely involved with the rioters, the hooligans who burned down gates and broke the law without a qualm.

Eynon had some doubts, too, about Isabelle's involvement with the rioters: she knew the Buchan family well. Dafydd Buchan was a troublemaker, involved in the rioting. His brother Ceri was the complete opposite: a law-abiding, honest Christian gentleman, and he was well respected in the area.

Isabelle drew away from him. ‘What are you thinking?' She spoke lightly, but she was troubled by his long silence.

‘I wondered if we should wed in Swansea or Llanelli.' He quickly gathered his thoughts. ‘Not that I mind where we get married, so long as you are happy.'

‘What about St Mary's Church in Swansea?' Isabelle's face was bright with happiness.

‘That suits me but it's your day, after all.'

‘I'm very happy with St Mary's,' Isabelle said. ‘It is one of the best churches in Swansea.' She clutched his hand, and he felt irritated: she
seemed to have changed from the confident, self-controlled woman he had first known and had become too dependent on him.

‘What about your friends? Will they be happy to travel to Swansea for the day?' he asked.

‘I have few friends,' Isabelle said quietly, ‘but there is another issue we have to discuss.'

‘Oh dear, this sounds serious. Let's sit down and talk.' He smiled, as he released himself from her grip. ‘I'm sure there is nothing we can't resolve.'

‘It's about the Buchan brothers,' Isabelle said. ‘I would like to invite Ceri and his family to the wedding.' She held up her hand. ‘I know your views on Dafydd's politics but I want him there, too. Please try to understand.'

‘Well, I'm not keen on the idea. He's a hothead by all accounts and I don't like the man's lack of moral scruples either,' Eynon said.

‘He's not all bad, I assure you.' Isabelle's tone was more than a little pained. ‘Dafydd is a gentleman, remember. His manners are impeccable.'

‘And he's running around with a married woman, ruining her life.'

‘That's not fair,' Isabelle said. ‘I think two are to blame in that situation but, of course, you would take the side of your dear friend Llinos.'

‘Are we bickering already?' Eynon said. ‘Have Buchan there if it means so much to you. Now, let's talk about bridesmaids, shall we?'

‘We'll have Jayne, of course,' Isabelle relaxed, ‘and I would like Shanni too.'

‘There, then, that's settled,' Eynon said. But
nothing was settled in his mind. He was in a quandary: it would be unthinkable to marry without Llinos being present, but if Buchan was there could he bear to see them together? In any case, what about Joe's feelings? He was the cuckolded husband.

‘What's the matter?' Isabelle asked. ‘You're still thinking of Llinos, aren't you?'

She was more perceptive than Eynon had given her credit for. ‘Well, yes. How will Joe react if they both come to the wedding?'

‘You must invite Llinos whatever happens. Remember, they are all adults and surely know how to conduct themselves in public. And there's the son, too. I know Jayne wants him to be at the wedding.'

‘I want Lloyd to be my best man as it happens.' Eynon shook his head. ‘Look, we'll invite Joe and Llinos, and leave them to decide what they want to do.'

‘So we'll set the date as June the tenth, then, shall we?' Isabelle asked, her head on one side. A tendril of hair was coming loose from the pins. She looked adorable, a lovely, intelligent woman. He was a fortunate man to have won her love, so why did he feel he was locking himself in a prison and throwing away the keys?

‘June the tenth it shall be.' He slid his arm around her shoulders enjoying the feel of softness against him. He was doing the right thing: he had no intention of living out his old age as a lonely man. Isabelle would give him everything he desired, warmth, affection, love. She could not give him children but he had his Jayne: she was
enough to fulfil all his needs in that direction. Yes, Isabelle was giving him all she had, but what was he giving her?

He rose and opened one of the conservatory windows. The sound of the sea filled his ears. In his mind's eye he could see her, Llinos, his love, with her dark tumbling curls, her eyes from which fire flashed when she was angry. He had never held her, never made love to her, yet he felt as bound to her as though she was his wife.

‘What does she see in him, Isa?' he asked, unaware of the bitterness in his voice.

Isabelle was silent for a moment. ‘I imagine you're referring to Llinos Mainwaring.' She spoke in a hard tone. ‘How can I answer for the foolishness of women? Perhaps I am one of them, believing that you are marrying me out of love.'

‘I
am
marrying you for love,' he protested quickly. ‘I think you are wonderful, beautiful, talented. I am lucky to have you.' He kissed her fingers, then her mouth.

‘And with that, I will have to be content,' Isabelle said. She smiled suddenly. ‘Let's have a picnic, shall we?'

He was amazed by the turn in the conversation, but relieved that Isabelle had let the uncomfortable matter of his feelings drop. ‘That's a wonderful idea. When shall we go?'

‘At once,' Isabelle said. ‘You have plenty of staff. They can rustle up a meal for us with little notice, can't they?'

‘I'm sure they can. I'll ring for the maid now.' He was happy again, sure he was doing the right thing with his life. He needed stability, needed a
wife on his arm before he was too old. He needed a woman's company, someone to take to elegant balls at the Assembly Rooms, a woman to respect. He looked at Isabelle: she was all of those things, and with that he must be content.

‘I've been invited to a wedding.' Llinos lay beside Dafydd in the large bed, naked except for the sheet thrown over her. It was unbearably hot. Even the breeze drifting in through the wide open windows gave little relief.

‘If you mean Isabelle's wedding to Morton-Edwards, then so have I.' Dafydd was languid, his arm lying across her abdomen, his eyes closed against the glare of the sun. ‘I think it must be a mistake, though. Isabelle and I are not seeing eye to eye at the moment, are we?'

Llinos did not want to dwell on the problems of social engagements. She was sated, luxuriating in the euphoria of the moment. Still, there were decisions that must be made.

‘I don't know how I am going to get through it,' she said softly. ‘My son will be there and so will Joe. Perhaps I should plead sickness and not go at all.'

Dafydd rose up on his elbow and stared down at her. ‘We can't go on like this.' His voice was thick with emotion. ‘We can't go hiding around corners as if we are criminals. We will go to the wedding together, as a couple.'