Firebird (26 page)

He handed her the plate. She took it and turned it towards the candlelight. ‘It might need a little more bone ash,' she said consideringly.

‘Ah, I knew you would be interested.' He smiled in satisfaction. ‘In addition to writing my letters, you can write down the recipes of the china composition, that way we can keep a check on what works best. Do you like that idea?'

‘I do indeed!' The very feel of the china beneath her hands was enough to tell her that this was something very special. The name of the pottery would be spoken of far and wide; the Tawe Pottery would be famous. For a moment she wished it had been her own potters who had made the discovery. She pushed the thought aside.

Mr Morton-Edwards moved towards the door, he was a little unsteady on his feet but he seemed in a good humour. ‘You are a lovely, intelligent, not to say gifted young woman, Llinos Savage,' he said. ‘I only wish I had met you twenty years ago.' He chuckled. ‘As I didn't, I shall have to be content with hoping you will become my daughter-in-law.'

He moved to the door. ‘I shall see you bright and early, then. We shall go straight after breakfast to the sheds and there you shall meet my clever Mr Wright.' He paused in the doorway. ‘Good night, Llinos.' He closed the door before she could reply. She shook her head, sleep had left her. She would never marry Eynon; Mr Morton-Edwards was hoping in vain for something that would never be.

She slipped from the high bed onto the floor and made her way to the window. Outside, the garden was silvered by moonlight. The trees stood in regimented rows and the gardens, symmetrically laid out, were the place the night creatures could call their own.

From somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard the cry of a fox and then it was silent. The dreaming silence of a still night.

Llinos sighed softly. She would probably remain a spinster all her life. If she could not have Joe then she did not want any man.

She pressed her face against the coldness of the window pane, she would not pine away of unrequited love but pour her energies into what she knew best, the manufacture of china. Perhaps she might even be witness to the creation of the best porcelain ever made.

Philip turned restlessly in the huge bed. He too found sleep impossible. He thought of Llinos. She was a beauty all right, her long dark hair hanging like a cloud around her shoulders and her skin finer than any porcelain he had ever seen. It would be a wonderful pleasure to take away that shining virtue. Still, for the time being he would concentrate on the fact that she would make Eynon a wonderful wife. True she had no fortune to bring him but then the boy had money enough.

Philip lay beside Estelle, listening to her quiet breathing. How could she sleep so peacefully when she had failed him so badly? There was no doubt in his mind that he had chosen the wrong woman; she was sickly, just like his son, and Philip could not abide anyone who showed weakness of any kind.

She had been a lively girl once but now she was like a waif about the place. He wished he was rid of her and then he could live a little, seek out openly the company of other women. He was heartily sick of Estelle.

He turned to look at the plate on the polished table. It was a key to so many things, to fame and even more riches and just perhaps the key that would unlock the heart of the virginal Llinos. He had seen the light in her eye, seen the enthusiasm shine in her face. She loved the china as much as he did, she was excited by his new discovery.

He sighed. He must do all he could to foster a liaison between his son and Llinos Savage, for he just knew she would bear children easily. Sons, sons who would become real men, not weaklings like Eynon. And if she would not agree to the marriage then Philip would enjoy administering her punishment.

He heard Estelle sigh in her sleep and he felt in that moment that he hated her. It was her fault they had no children. Given a real hot-blooded woman he would have a houseful of children by now. If only Estelle would have the decency to die, then he would be free to marry whomsoever he chose.

A small grain of an idea settled into Philip's brain. With Estelle dead he could start afresh. He could begin his life without encumbrances. He lay awake for a long time and slowly, a plan began to take shape in his mind.

‘You see, it looks even better against the sunlight.'

Llinos, her sleeves rolled above her elbows, her hair tied back from her face, took the plate almost reverently. It was light and fine to touch and as she held it up to the sunlight she could see her fingers through the porcelain.

‘There's not much soaprock in this, is there?' She looked towards Mr Wright. The old man pushed back his greying hair and shook his head.

‘About a sixth and about twenty-six pounds of bone with half again of sand, I suppose.' His voice was gruff but the faint West-Country nuances softened it. ‘See how fine it is.'

‘Aye, the problem is that it vitrifies suddenly and sometimes fuses to the saggars,' Philip Morton-Edwards broke into the conversation. ‘Anyhow, I shall leave you to sort all that out, I have a business meeting in town.'

The workers in the large shed touched their caps as Morton-Edwards walked past them without a glance. Once he had gone, the atmosphere in the room lightened. Men talked quietly together, there was a clatter of saggars being stacked and one man began to sing softly, it was a haunting sound.

‘What are you doing here?' Mr Wright asked slowly. ‘The sheds are no place for the daughter of Captain Savage.'

‘I'm writing down the recipes you're using,' she said. ‘I thought you would appreciate some help to keep a check on your experiments.'

‘Here to keep an eye on me, are you, his nibs doesn't trust me, thinks I'll hold him to ransom by keeping the exact ingredients secret.'

‘Not at all!' Llinos protested.

‘In any case, shouldn't you be home under the care and protection of your father?'

Llinos looked at him in surprise. ‘I really do not think that is any of your business, Mr Wright.'

‘No, maybe not.' He turned away. ‘Very well, let me show you how I propose to make the glaze, shall I?'

‘Wait, is there something I should know about Mr Morton-Edwards? What are you trying to warn me of?'

‘As you said, girlie, it's really none of my business.' He regarded her steadily. ‘You have a great deal of common sense, use it.'

The edge of excitement Llinos had felt at the prospect of being involved in making the fine china slipped away from her. Everyone was warning her about Philip Morton-Edwards, could they all be wrong? It seemed unlikely. Ah well, she had a job to do and it was about time she got on with it.

That evening, Estelle did not put in an appearance at dinner. The long, elegant dining-room was ablaze with candles, a gold and silver bowl filled with flowers stood at the centre. Mr Morton-Edwards sat at one end of the long table and Llinos at the other.

‘Is Estelle unwell?' Llinos broke the silence which had begun to feel uncomfortable.

‘My wife is of a delicate constitution, you will notice many such absences. I apologize for her.'

‘No need,' Llinos said quickly. ‘May I see her, later?'

‘I would not recommend it. She needs complete rest though I believe hers is a monthly indisposition that most women bear with a great deal more stoicism.'

‘I see. Some women do have . . . difficult days of the month.'

‘Let us talk about my china.' Philip Morton-Edwards changed the subject. ‘Do you think we can solve the firing problems?'

Llinos was more comfortable now. On familiar ground, she talked animatedly, warming to this man whom everyone else seemed to regard as a monster. He was a stern man but then no more implacable than her own father.

Philip provided decent housing for his employees and paid them fair wages. He was filled with a burning ambition for the china but then so was she. It was something they shared, a meeting point, a bond almost.

Philip unexpectedly turned the direction of the conversation. ‘I'm surprised that a beautiful girl like you is not already spoken for. You know I harbour hopes that you might one day accept Eynon but, tell me, are there no other suitors in the offing?'

‘Not at the moment.'

‘Many young ladies of your age are mothers already.'

She recognized the argument; it was the same one she had used with Joe and yet now she was uncomfortable with it.

‘I don't know that I will ever marry or have children.'

He regarded her steadily. ‘Some might say you talk like a woman scorned. Are you?'

‘Really, Mr Morton-Edwards, you do ask such personal questions.'

‘Then please answer me honestly.' He was watching with nothing but genuine interest in his eyes and she suddenly felt the urge to confide in him.

‘I fell in love with the wrong man.' She met his gaze. ‘My father thinks he is wrong and so does he.'

‘By “he” I gather you mean this Indian chap?'

She looked at him in surprise and he laughed. ‘There's not a great deal that escapes me. That is one of the secrets of my success, Llinos dear.'

‘Do you think it wrong?'

He shrugged. ‘I don't know the man. I understand that even though he is half Indian he is well-educated and from good stock on his father's side.'

‘But you see him as my father does, not quite one of us.'

Philip put down his gleaming cutlery. ‘And you, Llinos, see him from the point of view of a young, romantic girl. He is handsome as the devil, charming too I've no doubt, but his way of life is of necessity different from ours. If you did marry him and have children they too would be half-breeds.'

Llinos sighed. ‘In any case, he does not want me so there's an end to it.'

‘Poor Llinos. So you have decided, as I have, that the china is the better passion. China does not disappoint, it does not reject, it responds to any care and attention that is lavished upon it.'

Llinos saw Philip Morton-Edwards then as others failed to: he was lonely, misunderstood, searching for a perfection he might never find. He lowered his head and stared down into his glass and Llinos felt his sadness flow towards her. She hesitated and then crossed the room and touched his shoulder.

‘Please, don't be unhappy.'

He put his arms around her waist and pressed his head against her breast.

‘I am so lonely, Llinos, so misunderstood.' His voice was heavy and Llinos stifled the urge to pull away from him. He was in pain, how could she hurt him more? She brushed his hair as if he was a child and for a moment he clung to her. Then he released her and sighed.

‘My bout of self-pity is over now, Llinos, please leave me while I ease my mind with a good drink and a smoke.' He smiled up at her. ‘And Llinos, thank you for your kindness.'

In the drawing-room, Llinos sat staring out into the moonlit garden. She must see Eynon, tell him that his father needed him. Estelle was delicate and must not be worried and in any case, she had no interest in Philip's work. He needed someone to talk to, to share his achievements with, and that someone should be his son, not the daughter of another man.

When Philip joined her, he was cheerful. His eyes sparkled and he entertained her with stories of his boyhood in Cornwall. He told her of the china clay extracted from the ground and poured aboard ships. Told her of the sea-green pools formed in disused workings.

‘Well, my dear, I'm going to retire,' he said at last. He touched her shoulder lightly in passing.

‘Perhaps we two lost, misunderstood souls can be of help and comfort to each other, Llinos, what do you say, can we be friends?'

She let her hand rest on his. ‘I think we already are.'

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Eynon Morton-Edwards' house was built of grey stone. It stood on a promontory of land above the curving bay on the outskirts of Swansea. It had once been a vicarage and had housed a large family of children in the five bedrooms that ran the length of the landing. Now it was home to Eynon, Binnie Dundee, Maura and her young baby. The only other servant had quarrelled with Maura and had left the house in a fit of temper, declaring the work of such a big house was too much for her.

Llinos stood before the ornate gate and looked along the curving, tree-lined drive, wondering if she would find Eynon at home. She had decided to walk the stretch of the bay from the pottery to Black Pill and the village beyond. She was young and healthy but even so, her feet, in the inadequate leather slippers, had begun to ache.

As she had left the Tawe Pottery, she had seen her father. He had turned his head away from her and his rejection hurt. Now, pausing to catch her breath, she thought about her father's attitude more calmly. She realized that he was as proud and angry as she was; it was difficult for him to give in and admit he was wrong.

It was inevitable that she should see him sooner or later because the Savage Pottery stood cheek by jowl with the larger Tawe Pottery. If only he had held out his hand, or if he had smiled, Llinos would have gone to him, tried to talk to him. But he had done neither.

She pushed open the gates and walked slowly along the drive. It was a fine day, though the breeze coming in from the sea was a little chilly. When she reached the arched front door, she knocked briskly. She was looking forward to some sympathetic company and perhaps some refreshment after her long walk.

She heard footsteps and then the door was flung open. In the background was the paintive sound of a baby crying.

‘Llinos Savage, what are you doing here?' Maura looked ill. Her skin, once blooming, was devoid of colour. She had grown thin, the bones showing through the insubstantial material of her gown.