Firebird (43 page)

‘That's very kind but I think I would enjoy the walk, Philip.'

‘Llinos, you have not allowed my son to influence you against me, surely?'

‘No, of course not.' Llinos spoke the truth, she had seen the caring way Philip had rested his hand on his son's shoulder. Seen the pain in his eyes when he broke the news about Father Martin. He had expected praise from his son and instead he had received a rebuke.

‘I don't know what's wrong with Eynon lately,' Philip said thoughtfully. ‘I try to make him happy but he is a strange boy. I suppose it's all my fault.'

Llinos shook her head. ‘No, it isn't.' How could it be Philip's fault? He had given his son every advantage. He was allowing him to live his own life where some fathers, her own included, wanted to dictate to their children.

‘Did I do wrong getting Father Martin the post in the city?' Philip sounded wistful. ‘I thought I was giving the young man a helping hand. I just don't understand, all I want is for Eynon to be proud of me, to be happy.'

Llinos took his hand. ‘Don't be troubled, Philip, I'm sure everything will sort itself out.'

‘You're right, of course you are. Now, tell me about your adventure. I understand from Eynon that you actually got married in America.'

Llinos smiled. ‘Well, I did get married according to the laws of the Mandan Indians. However, Joe and I are going to have a proper church wedding when the time is right.'

‘And Joe, is he not jealous of your friendship with Eynon?'

‘No, he's not, Joe feels only liking and respect for Eynon.'

‘Well, that's very tolerant of him.' Philip leaned towards her. ‘Llinos, are you really going to marry this man, this Indian fellow? It's not too late to change your mind. I'm sure you could make a highly successful marriage if you wished, one that would be accepted in polite society.'

‘I don't give a fig for “polite society”, I only want to be happy.'

Philip looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Your father, what does he say about it all?'

She shrugged. ‘Well, he's not pleased. So I have made up my mind to spend a little time with him before I marry Joe. I'll try to persuade Father that what I'm doing is right.'

‘Very noble, my dear.'

Llinos touched his arm. ‘Could you tell me something, Philip?'

‘I will if I can, my dear.'

‘Do you know who is buying up the land surrounding the pottery?'

Philip's eyebrows rose. ‘Buying up the land, whatever for? Nothing will grow on it for years, it's worse than useless. A man would have to be a fool to throw away good money like that.'

Llinos congratulated herself that she had been right. Whoever was hedging her father in, trying to ruin his business, it was not Philip Morton-Edwards.

‘Still, that's what's happening. Could you try to find out about it for me, please?'

‘I'll do my best but these lawyer chaps are sticklers for keeping their noses clean. Confidentiality and all that.'

Llinos sighed. ‘I'd better get back, my father is a lonely man these days. He depends on me more and more.'

Philip nodded. ‘I know and you are a very dutiful daughter. Take care of yourself, Llinos. You have shadows under your eyes that tell me you are not altogether happy.'

At the gates to Eynon's house, Llinos turned and waved to Philip. There was no sign of Eynon. She sighed and began to walk towards home.

Maura folded the bedsheets with angry stabs of her fingers. The linen smelled fresh and clean but she did not notice. She was angry, very angry. If Llinos Savage had not interfered in her life Binnie would be home where he belonged, supporting his wife and child.

She put the sheets away in the drawer of the huge chest on the landing and then returned to the kitchen.

The cook looked over her shoulder. ‘Better keep an eye on the babe, she looks flushed to me.'

Maura had left her daughter on a thick blanket on the floor. The little girl had been sleepy all morning but Maura had thought nothing of it.

‘Oh, Cookie, look, Bridget's got spots all over her.'

The cook bent over the child and frowned. ‘Looks like the measles,' she said.

All at once, the sounds of the pots boiling on the stove, the clatter of cutlery as Jessie the kitchen maid cut up the vegetables for dinner, faded into the background.

Maura felt a cold fear grip her. Measles was bad, she had seen the epidemics of it when she lived at Greenhill. Most children died of the sickness.

But her baby had not been anywhere near Greenhill. Bridget lived in clean surroundings, ate good food. How could she have caught the disease? Cookie must be wrong, she had to be wrong.

‘Go see Mr Eynon,' Cook said. ‘Ask him if we can have the doctor. I'll get the baby up to bed.'

Eynon was slow in responding to her knock and Maura waited outside his door in a fever of impatience. As soon as she saw him the words poured from her lips.

‘Mr Eynon, the baby's right poorly, Cook thinks Bridget's got the measles, she says we should have a doctor.'

‘I'll get one of the boys to ride into town to fetch Dr Rogers or if he's out one of the other doctors will come, don't worry. And, Maura, remember, little children are up and down, one minute they're sick, the next they are fine again.'

It seemed an eternity before the doctor arrived. He looked into Bridget's mouth and touched her brow and examined the spots on her plump belly without a word. Maura waited anxiously for him to say something.

‘Yes, it's measles, I'm afraid. The child must be kept in complete isolation. Build up the fire, cover her up with blankets, sweat the fever out of her.'

A cold chill gripped Maura. She wanted Binnie desperately, wanted the only other human being on earth who had any part in bringing the baby into the world. But her husband was on the other side of the ocean.

It was the early hours of the morning when Maura woke from a restless sleep. The room was silent, the candle had flickered and died. Maura lit it with shaking fingers. The baby was quiet, the hoarse breathing had ceased. Maura screamed and ran in a frenzy down the stairs, hammering on Eynon's door.

He came at once. ‘What's happened?'

‘Eynon, the baby isn't breathing, I'm so frightened.'

Maura followed Eynon across the landing and up the small stairs to the servants' rooms. Cook was already there, a bonnet tied askew on her grey hair. As she stood aside for Eynon to go into the bedroom she was shaking her head.

‘Bridget!' Maura fell on her knees beside the bed. ‘My little girl, look at mama, come on, now, open your eyes.'

Maura began to cry. ‘Why isn't Binnie here?' She looked up at Eynon. ‘He's always run away from his responsibilities. It's all the fault of that Llinos Savage, her and her big ideas! I hate her. Oh, sweet Jesus, spare my baby!'

It was Eynon who drew her away and tried to calm her. Maura wanted to say some prayers but they had become a jumble in her mind. She looked towards the bed, at Bridget's face. It was pale, serene and beautiful.

‘My baby,' she mumbled, her tongue suddenly cleaving to the roof of her mouth. ‘My baby.'

‘There, there,' Cook said gently, ‘the little one's gone to a better place.'

Maura heard the sound of screaming, it rang inside her head, deafening her. And then, all was darkness and peace.

The funeral of Bridget Dundee took place several days later. Eynon Morton-Edwards had paid for the very best in funeral accoutrements. The coffin was polished oak, the handles solid brass. The hearse was drawn by two splendid greys. But there was no-one to witness the pomp and grandeur, it seemed the entire township had taken fright and those who were not sick were remaining indoors, hiding away.

Maura stood with Eynon and listened to the prayers of Father Duncan. He had retired from his post but he was the only one who would conduct the service. It began to rain but Maura did not feel it. Her baby was dead and it felt like her own life was ended.

When Eynon led her back to the carriage, she followed him obediently. At the gate of the cemetery, she saw Llinos Savage carrying a beautiful bouquet of roses.

‘I'm so sorry,' she began.

‘Go away. Just go away, leave me alone,' Maura said. ‘All this is your fault and I hope you suffer the flames of eternal damnation.'

Eynon half lifted her into the carriage and, sunk in misery, she closed her eyes. The world had turned dark and grey. She was alone in her grief and it was all because of one woman, Llinos Savage.

‘This is no-one's fault, you know that really, don't you?' Eynon was speaking to her but she could not hear him. She saw his mouth open and close but she was deaf to his words, locked into her own world of misery.

As soon as they reached the big house, Maura climbed wearily up the stairs and fell on the bed. She was tired, so tired. She felt like death. But she would not die, she needed to live. To pay back those who had done her wrong, Binnie, her husband who had walked out on her, and Llinos Savage, who had taken him away from his wife and child.

At last she slept but her dreams were tortured. She saw her baby, pale and limp like a rag doll, floating in a stream of cold water. She woke suddenly and she was shivering, her throat hurt and she knew she had caught the dreaded sickness.

The night turned to day and back to night again; people came and went. Water was forced between her lips. Fever raged through her body. But her will was strong. By the tenth day after the burial of her child, Maura Dundee's fever broke.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Binnie was beginning to adjust to life in the village of West Troy even though, at first, it had all seemed foreign to him. The scenery, even the weather, was so different from that at home. But Binnie had been quick to spot the unmistakable signs of the pottery business in the tall kilns that hummed with heat and life on the edge of the village. That fact alone was enough to convince him that he had done the right thing in deciding to settle in Troy Village.

He had found lodgings in a rambling clapboard house near the docks with an elderly couple and their three daughters. Mrs McCabe had looked him over long and hard before renting him a room and it amused Binnie to realize that the woman saw him as a potential husband for one of her girls.

Still, he congratulated himself on finding himself a comfortable niche. His room was kept spotlessly clean, his food, if strange to his taste, was plentiful and well cooked. And the company was most welcome.

Binnie had only lodged with the McCabes for a few days before he learned that Dan McCabe was himself the owner of a pottery, a large flourishing concern a mile or two from the house. Binnie told himself that lady luck was with him for once.

This feeling was reinforced when Binnie discovered that Mr McCabe was looking for an experienced foreman. A foreman who might one day become a son-in-law.

It worked to Binnie's benefit that there seemed to be a dearth of single men in Troy. He realized at once that the shortage of husband material accounted for the welcome he had received into the McCabe household.

And once Dan became aware of how knowledgeable Binnie was concerning the process of creating good earthenware, Binnie's position in the household was secured.

After only a month Binnie was made foreman at the McCabe Pottery and was in charge of production from the wedging of the clay to the temperature of the kilns. He had fallen on his feet, at last.

In his spare time, he explored the countryside on horseback, familiarizing himself with the surroundings of his new home. The village of West Troy was located in Albany County, on the west bank of the Hudson River opposite the City of Troy. A distance easily covered on the back of a fine horse, should Binnie be tempted to discover the pleasures of the city. So far he had resisted the bustle of the city streets for the quietness of the village and the sweet company of the McCabe girls.

If Binnie missed anything of his old life, he thought, staring at his reflection in the mirror in his neat bedroom, it was the green of the grass and the softness of the countryside that spread beyond the boundaries of Swansea.

He did not miss Maura or his child at all and though it plagued his conscience sometimes that he had deserted them, he usually managed to put it out of his mind.

Some nights when he lay in bed, dreaming of the warmth of a woman beside him, he remembered his wife as she had been when he first met her. Maura with her bright hair and ivory skin had been so beautiful, so passionate, so willing. But she had turned into a drudge, her mind filled with the baby and the cleaning. He was too young to settle for such a mundane life.

He finished his toilet and drew on a clean shirt. That was another bonus; for a nominal sum, his laundry was washed and pressed. He looked at himself again in the speckled mirror and was pleased with the image that he saw there. He had filled out, his shoulders were broader, his frame strong and his muscles well defined. He had become a man.

The sound of cheery American voices greeted him as he descended the stairs. The big kitchen was usually the centre of activity. Here the family ate and played, here the fire burned brightly at all times.

As Binnie entered the room, the youngest of the McCabe daughters smiled up at him. Josephine was fair and pale, her complexion unaffected by the sun. Josephine took great care to keep her face shaded when outdoors by wearing a big bonnet covered with its scattering of cotton rosebuds.

‘Evenin', Mr Dundee.' Josephine smiled up at him and moved her skirts shyly to one side so that he could take the seat next to her. ‘How you been doin' at work today?'