Firebird (25 page)

‘But the house in Morton-Edwards Street is damp and shabby, you are used to better things.'

She began to walk away from him, impatient now. ‘You needn't worry, I'm moving into Ty Mawr tomorrow,' she said. ‘I should be comfortable enough there, don't you think?'

Eynon caught up with her. ‘Llinos, you can't mean it. You are walking into the lion's den.'

She shook her head, he was fanciful to the point of absurdity. ‘I love you as a friend, Eynon, but you mustn't try to tell me what to do with my life. Can't you see that your own dislike of your father is clouding your judgement? He has shown me nothing but kindness and respect. I have not found him to be half as bad as you make him out to be.'

‘He wants you to marry me.' The words spilled from Eynon's lips.

‘Really?' The sarcasm in her voice was undisguised. ‘So he can't mean me any harm then, can he?'

‘You don't understand the way he thinks.'

‘I don't understand the way you think, Eynon, that's the truth. Step back from it all, Eynon, look at the situation with clear eyes. I'm sure you'll realize that your own differences with your father are clouding your judgement.'

Llinos ran away from him, her feet hardly touching the softness of the grass. She was tired of people who wanted to manipulate her. She did not know what Eynon was making such a fuss about. All his father had done was to offer her a chance to be independent. What on earth could be wrong with that?

Her mind was made up. She would go and see Mr Morton-Edwards and tell him that she would accept his offer of a room in his own house. There were plenty of servants and what was more he had a wife. How could he be accused of having designs on her? It was absurd. She slowed her steps as she came into the coolness of the valley. For a moment, she leaned against the rock face and closed her eyes.

She would give up her independence in a moment if she could be with Joe. But Joe did not want her or he would have come for her by now. More sedately, she began to walk towards the bustling streets of the town. Men! She must put them all out of her mind and live her life to suit herself.

‘You must go to her, convince her.' Eynon's voice was high-pitched, bordering on panic, and Joe stared at him in compassion.

‘Do you think I could persuade her when you couldn't?'

‘Yes, I do.'

Joe pushed away his coffee cup and watched as a mote of dust caught in a shaft of evening sun drifted downward towards the table. ‘She has to live her own life, make her own mistakes.'

‘No, my father will take advantage of her somehow, believe me. Go to her, Joe, before it is too late. You love her, don't you?'

Joe turned to look through the dusty window of the coffee-house and to the open sky beyond. He felt the call of the plains in his blood. He wished himself anywhere other than here in this dreary little township that was being desecrated by the onset of the thing they called progress.

High chimneys were beginning to sprout along the banks of the river. Soon the cool clear waters flowing to the sea would carry the debris of the copper works. It would grow dark and deep and muddied.

‘What do you think your father has in mind?'

‘He wants me to marry Llinos, to try to prove my manhood. And to perpetuate the Morton-Edwards name, of course. To achieve all this, he will manipulate her mercilessly. He is hard and ruthless and he will stop at nothing to get his own way.'

Joe looked at him steadily. ‘So he wants you to marry Llinos. You could hardly call that unnatural. And you, do you want to marry her?'

‘I would like nothing better. She doesn't want me, however. When my father realizes his plans will come to nothing, he will turn against her, he might even be violent.'

Joe nodded, he was inclined to believe Eynon. Philip Morton-Edwards seemed to be a man who would get what he wanted no matter who was hurt.

‘I'll speak to her.' He rose to his feet. ‘Now go home, Eynon, rest, you look worn out.'

It was cool in the evening air, the breeze lifted his hair from his neck and Joe was conscious of the stares that followed his progress along the street. He walked softly, like the Indian he was, his feet scarcely leaving an impression in the dust of the road.

His blood quickened when he thought of being close to Llinos. But there was a barrier between them, a barrier that even he might not be able to remove.

When the rain came down from the heavens, he looked upwards and wondered if the great spirit was shedding tears for the puny strength of Wah-he-joe-tass-e-neen.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

She was there again. Floating high above the land where the plains spread as far as the eye could see. And where a crystal river cut a swathe of bright ribbon through the rich earth. Llinos did not know this land but she knew that she could be happy here. Even in her dream, she recognized that she was looking down on the country where Joe had been born.

Joe, her love. His face was close to hers, he was bending towards her. The touch of his lips was fleeting, the kiss of a butterfly.

Abruptly, Llinos sat up in bed. She became aware of the lumpy mattress, the coarse sheets and the snores of Janet, who slept on the opposite side of the small room.

She wrapped her arms around her body, she was cold and there was a feeling of emptiness inside her. She washed and dressed in the clothes she had worn when she left her father's house. A good, high-waisted dress and a cut-away jacket. Today she would be leaving the lodging house and moving into the lush room that had been prepared for her in the Morton-Edwards household.

She looked towards the window, sensing something, a prickling feeling in her spine. She felt a presence, a warmth filled her. Had her dream been telling her that Joe was seeking her out?

She hurried downstairs and out into the cool of the early morning air. Dew hung like jewels on the crocus heads in the small garden. He was there. She moved towards him, her eyes searching his face.

‘Have you come to fetch me?'

He held out his hand. ‘Let's walk together beside the waters of the sea and listen to the talking of the shells on the ebb.'

With her hand in his she felt happiness surge through her. The sun was rising, pouring the warmth of red gold light over the earth. Joe's skin shone like beaten copper. He was so beautiful she felt she was looking into the face of the sun.

They sat together on an outcrop of rocks and stared across the sea to where the dimly outlined shape of the Devon hills formed a link between earth and sea and sky.

‘It's so beautiful.' Llinos, her fingers still curled into Joe's warm, strong hand, felt that this breathless time would be with her for ever. Whatever lay before her, she would remember this moment when she had sat with Joe in the light of early morning.

‘Eynon has been to see me.' Joe did not look at her and Llinos swallowed her disappointment. His words were like a shower of cold water washing away her happiness.

‘I see.'

‘Llinos, why do you allow this man Morton-Edwards to run your life? You who are so set against the advice of your friends allow yourself to be persuaded by a man you hardly know.'

‘You are all wrong about Philip.' Her words sounded thin and frail and she was not sure if she believed them. ‘My father, Eynon, and now you, all of you trying to tell me what I must and must not do. You seem to forget that for a time I was independent of any man. I don't think you understand or care how I feel now.'

‘We care.' His words fell like stones hitting a deep pool. The ‘we' hung between them like a barrier.

‘Come home, Llinos,' he said. ‘Your father is a stern man but he loves you.'

‘And if I come home my father will insist on sending me away to school. What have I to do with school at my age?'

She looked at Joe and saw the smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

‘I might seem young to you but some women of my age are wives and mothers. Just look at Maura.'

‘Yes, look at her.'

‘What does that mean?'

Joe's eyes were blue against the tan of his skin, they seemed to search deep inside her. ‘Do you think Maura is happy, fulfilled?'

‘Why shouldn't she be? She has Binnie and her baby.'

‘And you think that is all there is to life?'

‘No, but . . .' She bit her lip. ‘Why, what's wrong with Maura?'

‘She is a woman with a child and no wedding ring on her finger. She has become an outcast among her own people.' His voice lowered. ‘I know how that feels.'

‘Joe . . .' Llinos wanted to touch him, to hold him close to her. He sat beside her, lean and yet broad of shoulder, his dark hair hanging past his collar. He met her eyes reluctantly now, reading the longing there.

‘Joe . . .'

He rose to his feet. ‘Listen to reason. You would be safer in your father's house.'

Llinos closed her eyes, his unspoken rejection of her hurt so much she could hardly bear it. ‘Go away and leave me to live my life as I see fit.' Her voice was surprisingly controlled. She stood up, adjusting her skirts with an angry twitch of her fingers.

‘Goodbye, Joe.' She walked away without looking back. If she allowed herself to look at him she would lose all her pride, throw herself into his arms, beg him to kiss her and to promise her his undying love. She was a fool.

That evening, Llinos sat in the large drawing-room of Morton-Edwards House and listened to the lady of the house playing the pianoforte. Mrs Morton-Edwards played with feeling. The pathos in the music was reflected in the droop of her slim neck. Absorbed in the music, Estelle was unaware of the lines of sadness that drew her mouth down at the corners. There was no sign of Mr Morton-Edwards.

After a time, Estelle rose and folded away the sheets of music. ‘I'm sure you've had enough of my playing by now.' She smiled but the lines of sadness lingered on her face.

‘Would you like to talk a little or are you tired?' Estelle sank into a chair, her head resting against the cushions.

‘You play beautifully and no I'm not tired, Mrs . . . Estelle, perhaps you are?'

Estelle shook her head. ‘I will have to wait up for my husband.' There was nothing overtly hostile in her manner or her words and yet Llinos had felt from the moment she had entered the house that Estelle did not welcome her presence there.

‘Am I intruding?'

‘My husband wishes you to live here with us and I obey my husband in all things.' Estelle was very pale. ‘Perhaps it might be better for you to retire early, Llinos. You are little more than a child, you need your sleep.' Estelle smiled and a little warmth touched her eyes. ‘A very pretty child, if I may say so, you should be wooed by a handsome beau, not sitting here with stuffy old me.'

Estelle rose and pulled the silk cord of the bell. It jangled faintly from some deep reaches of the house. Shortly after, a maid knocked and entered the room, bobbing a curtsy.

‘Show Miss Savage to her room and help her with her toilet,' Estelle said. ‘Then bring me a hot drink, I feel quite chilled.'

In her room, Llinos stared around at the rich hangings, at the tapestry-covered walls and the silken covers on the high four-poster bed. It was all strange and unfamiliar and she wished she was home at Pottery House with the hum of the fires around the kilns for company.

She dismissed the maid and undressed herself. She shivered as she climbed up onto the bed, staring at the flickering of the candles placed strategically around the room.

Last night she had lain in the lumpy bed at the lodging house listening to Janet's snoring. Last night she had felt safe. Last night she had dreamed of Joe.

She was woken by a touch on her cheek. She sat up quickly to see the dark outline of a man leaning over her. For a moment her heart felt it would pound its way out of her chest.

‘Don't be frightened, it's only me.' The voice of Mr Morton-Edwards was slightly slurred, the reek of wine hung on his breath. Llinos shrank against the pillows.

‘It's all right, I mean you no harm, I have just come to talk to you.'

‘Surely it would be more proper to talk to me in daylight when I'm not in bed?' Her voice was sharp and she heard the man chuckle.

‘Fine spirited girl, I knew you would be.' He moved slightly away from her and Llinos breathed more easily.

‘I suppose it was impulsive of me to come to you in the night like this, but I felt I should share my good news with you at once.'

‘What news?' In spite of herself, Llinos was intrigued. She sat up straighter and held the blankets to her chin.

‘My Mr Wright has produced the most perfect porcelain body. Much better than anything we've turned out before. You can see right through it. This is going to make my pottery the best in the land, rivalling even that of Mr Wedgwood.'

‘That's wonderful.' Llinos sat forward eagerly. ‘I can't wait to see it.'

‘You won't have to.' Morton-Edwards chuckled again. ‘This sample plate was waiting for me when I returned home, I've brought it straight up to show you.' He held up a plate; it shimmered whitely in the candlelight. He held it before the flame and the thickness of his fingers showed through the undecorated porcelain.

‘It's beautiful!' Llinos said. ‘How is it done?'

‘Mr Wright has been experimenting with soaprock and bone ash. I'm not quite sure how he did it but tomorrow we will have a demonstration.' He paused. ‘We do have one problem, a great deal of the porcelain is cracking in the kilns, the mixture is not quite right. Not yet, but it will come, given time.'