Firebird (31 page)

‘My father has left me his estates. I have worldly goods to offer you now.'

‘That never mattered to me.'

‘I know.' He touched her cheek. ‘But it mattered to me. And, I suspect, to your father. He will still see me as I am, a half-breed,' Joe said. ‘But perhaps he will accept me now I have means.' He walked with her towards the house and he was conscious of her softness pressing against his side.

‘Don't worry, Llinos, I think you will find that money and property can wipe out the most inbuilt prejudice.'

Inside, the house was bustling with life, maids scurried from kitchen to bedrooms, carrying jugs of steaming water. How the rich lived in comfort by exploiting the poor never failed to amaze Joe. In his homeland every person, every tree, every twig was given honour.

Rebecca Savage sat in a chair, her shawl drawn tightly around her shoulders. Her eyes were sharp as they rested on Joe.

It was Llinos who broke the silence. ‘Joe is the man I love, Auntie. I am going to marry him whatever anyone says.' Llinos touched her aunt's shoulder and Rebecca shrugged her hand away.

‘It's all right, Joe's intentions are honourable. He owns lands, houses, he is very rich. Oh, come on, Auntie, don't frown like that.'

‘Your father does not approve of him, child.'

‘I will marry Joe whether Father approves or not.'

‘Then you must return home to your father. I will have your bags repacked.' She shook her head. ‘I did not expect your lover to turn up on my doorstep.'

She straightened her shoulders. ‘You are an unruly and wilful girl and I will not have you under my roof another night.'

Her eyes flashed across the room at Joe. ‘She will travel back to Swansea with you. One of my maids will accompany you. I didn't wish to be involved in the first place, now I can wash my hands of the whole sorry episode.' She rose with difficulty, refusing Llinos's help, and hobbled from the room.

Llinos looked up at Joe. He sensed the words trembling on her lips. ‘You
do
want to marry me, don't you, Joe?'

It was what he wanted more than anything else in the world. She was part of him. She lived inside his head, his heart, his blood.

‘Yes, I want to marry you,' he said. ‘Now, go and get dressed. We shall leave for home before noon.'

Eynon felt out of place in his father's house, it was as though the very fabric of Ty Mawr were rejecting him. But one of the older servants had sent for him; Philip was sick and with Mrs Morton-Edwards newly laid to rest Eynon was needed to take charge.

He looked down at his father lying stricken in his bed; he seemed diminished by his illness. His skin was flushed an unhealthy red and his eyes were sunken, the flesh around them swollen.

His father, even in the throes of some fever, seemed to reject him. Whenever Eynon sat near, or smoothed away the tangled hair from his father's brow, Philip would move restlessly, as though trying to draw away from him.

Of course his father had never loved him, had found him weak, unlovable, but that did not alter the fact that they were tied by the bonds of blood. Eynon had a duty to discharge and he would do it to the best of his ability.

There was a light tapping on the bedroom door and the doctor entered, his face flushed from his ride. ‘Morning, Eynon, how is our patient today?'

Eynon watched as the doctor examined his father, hoping there would be some change for the better. His hopes were dashed when the doctor turned to him, grave-faced.

‘I'm sorry, Eynon, we can do nothing but wait it out. The fever should break soon and that will be the turning point. Would you like to call a second opinion, perhaps?'

‘Thank you, Dr Rogers.' Eynon looked with affection at the old doctor who had cared for the family for as long as he could remember. ‘I have every confidence in you, there's no need to call in any other doctor.'

Dr Rogers inclined his head. ‘Thank you, Eynon.' He moved towards the door. ‘Your father's heartbeat is rapid, it's an unpredictable organ at best. It can do all sorts of things for which we are not prepared.'

Eynon wondered if the doctor was speaking philosophically or medically.

‘Your father is a strong man, I expect he will live to make old bones but you can never be sure. In the meantime, I know you are more than capable of looking after your father's affairs.'

Eynon nodded but he was trembling inside. The doctor's words reminded him that he would be responsible for the running of the pottery, the managing of the accounts. It was too sudden, he had no experience in that quarter, all he had known was painting and not even that since he had moved to his own home.

If Llinos was here, she would have known exactly what to do. He loved Llinos, he trusted her. He wished she was with him now. He would have travelled to Bristol to see her by now if his father had not been taken sick.

He sat alone in the darkness of the drawing-room and wondered what he should do. Binnie was used to the ways of the pottery, he could take charge for the time being. He might be a lowly potter, but Binnie Dundee was equipped with a keen mind and a wish to better himself.

Eynon would scarcely need to bother with the day-to-day running of the pottery. The key workers were in place; fine painters did the decorating, far better artists than he was. And under the care of Mr Wright, the experiments with the porcelain bodies were continuing in a most satisfactory way. No, all Eynon needed to do was keep an eye on things until his father was well again. Surely he could do that much, couldn't he? Why did he have to doubt himself always? He should be filled with confidence, ready and willing to step into his father's shoes. His father was right, he was a weakling, a moral coward, no wonder no-one looked up to him.

It had grown dark and restlessly Eynon rose and walked out into the garden. The moonlight silvered the trees and the small lake in the lower garden. Ty Mawr was a beautiful house with well-kept grounds and yet Eynon had never felt he belonged there. He glanced back at the house, at the glow from the window of his father's room, and he shivered. His father was normally so full of life and now he was lying on his sickbed with no-one to love him or care for him except the son he despised. It was strange how the world sometimes turned full circle. He breathed in deeply, suddenly lonely.

Through the dimness of the moonlight, Eynon caught sight of the flapping black robes of one of the vicars. As the man drew nearer, Eynon was relieved to see that it was Father Martin.

‘I haven't yet thanked you for conducting the burial service, Father Martin,' Eynon said. ‘You spoke so well, anyone would believe my father's wife was the best-loved lady in Swansea.'

Martin smiled his baby smile, his blue eyes crinkled with laughter. ‘Well, so she was, of course. All my flock are well-loved, didn't you know that, sir?'

Eynon found himself smiling; he liked Martin, he was human, he made mistakes and he did not mind admitting it.

‘Will you come inside and have a drink with me, I feel in need of company?'

‘Most certainly I will, sir. Lead the way, I always knew I could smell fine brandy from a mile off!'

‘Good. Please, Father, do me a favour, drop the formality and just call me Eynon?'

‘I will if you will drop the formality and just call me Martin.'

The candles flickered in the draught from the door as Eynon led the way inside. He pushed open the doors of the sitting-room and gestured for Martin to enter. More candles flickered in the silver candelabra, washing the room with soft light.

‘Please, Father . . . Martin, make yourself comfortable.' Eynon poured a good measure of brandy for each of them. ‘This will warm the cockles of your heart.'

They drank in silence for a time, a comfortable silence, and Eynon began to feel his tension ease a little.

Father Martin leaned forward a little. ‘You seem very much alone, Eynon. Perhaps you should find yourself a pretty wife who will fill your home with children.'

‘The girl I want loves someone else.'

‘Is she going to marry him?'

Eynon shook his head. ‘I doubt it, I don't think her father would give his consent.'

‘There's hope for you, then, Eynon.' Martin rolled the brandy around his teeth, savouring it. ‘Remember, there are as many kinds of love as there are of flowers in the field. When I was younger, I was stubborn, I would not settle for second best and so I ended up alone.'

‘Are you telling me to look around for “second best” if I don't get the girl I love?'

Martin smiled. ‘Put it this way, I was in love once but I was disappointed. Instead of trying again, I turned my face away from all thoughts of love and became a vicar.'

‘I don't fancy the Church as an occupation.' Eynon smiled. ‘I think I would bore any congregation to tears.'

‘Then you must channel your desires in some other direction.' Martin smiled. ‘Or fall in love with someone else. Everyone is deserving of a little love and you seem to me to be a man of many qualities of which kindness and honesty are not the least.'

Eynon felt the fear that had held him ever since his father fell sick melt a little. ‘I'm glad you came up here this evening,' he said. ‘I don't feel so alone now.'

‘You are never alone, my son. Your heavenly Father is always with you.'

Eynon smiled. ‘You have become a cleric again.'

‘I never stop being a cleric, it is my one joy and comfort to know that my heavenly Father loves me even if no-one else does.' He beamed his beatific smile and Eynon smiled too.

‘Have another drink, Martin,' he said.

‘Aye,' Martin said, ‘let us fill our glasses, we might as well make a night of it.'

‘That's fine by me.' Eynon rose to open a fresh decanter of brandy and for a moment stared into the depths of the amber liquid. Martin was right, it was time he began to make a new life for himself, find a new purpose.

‘I heard a little bit of gossip today,' Martin said. ‘Llinos Savage returned home last night escorted by the Indian fellow.'

Silently, Eynon digested the news: so Llinos was home and it had been Joe who had gone to fetch her. That was strange to say the least. Had Lloyd relented, had he welcomed Joe as a prospective son-in-law? Eynon doubted it.

‘There is talk that Llinos has found a suitable husband, a local man of standing and property.' Martin smiled sheepishly. ‘One of the maids up at the pottery overheard some talk, it seems, and gossiped about it to all who would listen.'

‘I see.' Eynon refilled the glasses and lifted his high. He was suddenly filled with hope. ‘Here's to the future, Martin,' he said softly.

It was a bright morning, Llinos had slept well. Now she faced her father, standing beside Joe, listening to him ask for her hand in marriage. She was so happy, so in love. She stood meekly to one side, allowing the menfolk to have their say. Her father listened in silence and when he did speak, his words were like a knife cutting into her.

‘You are still a half-breed, Joe, nothing is ever going to change that.'

Llinos hugged Joe's arm to her side as though she could protect him from her father's cruelty.

‘Father! How could you speak like that?'

Lloyd looked at her sharply. ‘Face facts, girl, however much money he has, Joe is never going to be one of us. If you married him your children would be half-breeds, too. No, I won't have it, I won't give my permission, it is as simple as that.'

‘Then I shall go and live with Joe without your permission.'

‘I see, as wilful as ever, Llinos. And you, Joe, will you take her against my wishes?' Lloyd stared up into the face of the man who had been his constant companion, the man who had saved his life, but he did not waver. The future of his only daughter was in the balance and he would not have her throw away her chance of happiness because of some girlish infatuation.

‘Joe, don't listen to him!' Llinos said. ‘We love each other, nothing can change that.'

‘Stop it, girl.' Lloyd spoke harshly. ‘You speak like the child you are. Show some restraint, some dignity. I'm sure Joe has the good sense to see that you are too young for marriage.'

Joe seemed suddenly remote. ‘Your father is right, you are still very young.' He shook his head as she made to speak.

‘You are mine and I am yours, never forget it.' He smiled. ‘I shall wait patiently for you until the time is right for us.'

Llinos was afraid and angry. ‘I don't know why my life should be ruled by men. Have I no say in any of it?' She turned to her father.

‘You seem able to send Joe away but you will not have your way with me. I shall go back to Philip Morton-Edwards, I shall live in his house.'

‘Be quiet, child,' Lloyd said sharply. ‘Mr Morton-Edwards is sick, he may be dying for all we know.'

Llinos felt a chill begin to grow inside her.

Lloyd nodded to her. ‘You may think the world stands still because you are not part of it, Llinos, but you are wrong,' he said. ‘Your views are insignificant, don't you understand that?'

‘Father, do you realize how bitter you sound? Do you really hate the world and everyone in it so much?'

‘Keep a civil tongue in your head, miss.' Lloyd's face flushed and he looked away from her. ‘What have I to be happy about? I am half a man, I cannot love a woman, I can never walk in the fresh air and feel the sand of Swansea Bay beneath my feet. Why shouldn't I be bitter?'

‘You are alive, Captain.' Joe spoke sternly. ‘Have you forgotten so soon how many of our comrades were left at Mont-St-Jean?'