Firebird (46 page)

The evening sun was slanting through the trees, dappling the countryside with patches of light and shadow. Llinos lifted her skirts and stepped across the pool of water left by an early-morning shower. She crossed the yard and climbed over the boundary between the two potteries; she must see Philip, he was the only one she could turn to.

Georgina Fairwater was in the garden of the Ty Mawr, her large bonnet shading her eyes, but as she watched Llinos draw nearer, her shoulders were tense.

‘Miss Savage, how kind of you to come over, but as you see, I'm cutting flowers for the table. We shall be eating supper within the hour.'

Llinos read her well. ‘I don't intend to stay long, don't worry.'

‘Oh, I'm not worried. Indeed, I'm glad you've called, you can congratulate me.' She held out her left hand. A clear blue sapphire gleamed against her skin. ‘Philip has proposed, I'm going to be his wife.'

‘Congratulations,' Llinos said drily. ‘He's quite a catch.'

‘I thought you might think so.' Georgina sounded smug. ‘Well, you'd better come inside.'

Llinos bit back the retort that she had every intention of doing so and followed Georgina into the house. The scent of beeswax hung in the air rich and pleasant, the sun shone through the huge window above the staircase sending spears of light onto the polished wood of the curved banister. It was all peace and quiet, a far cry from the chaos of Pottery Row.

‘Philip, darling, we have a visitor.' Georgina's voice trilled girl-like across the expanse of hallway and after a moment Philip appeared in the door of his study.

‘Llinos! My dear, how good to see you. Please, come into the drawing-room, have a glass of cordial with us.'

‘Philip, darling, supper is almost ready.'

‘I wanted to see Llinos, anyway, Georgina; you know that, darling.'

‘Oh, yes, of course, you intend to give her notice, don't you?'

Llinos glanced at Philip, expecting him to deny he would do any such thing. He remained silent.

‘Might I speak to you alone?' Llinos said as Georgina hurried past her into the drawing-room.

‘Will you excuse us, my dear?' Philip said. ‘We shan't be long.' He closed the door on Georgina's retreating figure and gestured for Llinos to take a seat.

‘What's wrong, Llinos, why have you come?'

‘What's wrong? Don't you know? I'm surprised you haven't heard the noise from here,' Llinos said. ‘People are being evicted from their homes, furniture thrown into the street.' She sank into a chair and twisted her hands together in her lap.

‘My father's going out of his mind with worry. What is happening to us, Philip, why are you doing this?'

Philip sat opposite her. ‘It's my cousin Catherine,' he said, ‘she's old, confused. I'll try to speak to her again, get her to see sense.'

Llinos looked at him, wondering whether to believe him or not. ‘It's urgent, Philip, our stocks of clay and coal are almost gone, we've laid off most of the workers. We are going under. At this rate we'll soon be bankrupt.'

‘Surely not. Your young man, I understand he is a man of some means, can't he help you?'

‘He's not returned from England. In any case, if he gave us money for supplies, we couldn't bring them in.'

Philip rubbed at his chin. He was silent for a long time and then he looked at Llinos. ‘I can't offer much hope for the tenants of the houses in the row but there is a solution to your problem.'

‘What solution?' Llinos said suspiciously. She leaned forward. ‘Tell me.'

‘I could buy the Savage Pottery. It's adjacent to my own pottery. With a little readjustment I could combine the two premises and any goods and stock would enter and exit through my property.'

He paused, frowning thoughtfully. ‘You would have to vacate the house, of course.'

Llinos swallowed hard. ‘It's a way out, I can see that, but it's rather harsh, isn't it, Philip?'

Philip smiled. ‘Look, my dear, it was just an idea. Perhaps I don't really want any more land; I have enough as it is.'

Llinos swallowed hard. ‘I'll put it to my father, see what he thinks.' She sighed. ‘I'd better be going.'

The door was pushed open and Llinos had the distinct impression that Georgina had been listening outside.

‘Oh, Philip, my darling, you really must not be so charming to the ladies,' she gushed. ‘You don't realize how handsome and captivating you can be.' She slid her hand into his arm and looked at Llinos. ‘Does he?'

‘Thank you for your time,' Llinos said, ignoring her. ‘I do hope I haven't delayed you too long from your supper, Philip.'

As she walked back across Philip's land, her head was spinning. It could work. If Philip bought the Savage Pottery, she and her father would at least survive. She could rent a small house in town on the proceeds of the sale.

Her father was sitting slumped in his chair. He looked up at her, his eyes dull. ‘We're finished,' he said. ‘It's over, the Savage Pottery is no more.'

Suddenly she felt weary. ‘Father,' she said softly, ‘there is a way, we don't have to lose everything.'

‘What way?'

‘We could sell the pottery.'

‘Oh, yes, and who would buy a pottery with no access to it by road? Don't be foolish, girl.'

‘Listen, Father.' She spoke more firmly now. ‘I've talked to Philip, he would buy the . . .'

‘Ha!' Lloyd Savage glared at her. ‘I might have known! This is exactly what he wants, to do me out of my home and my livelihood. And you, girl, are stupid enough to be taken in by him.'

Llinos swallowed her anger. ‘Perhaps it
is
all Philip's fault. Perhaps he's planned this down to every last detail but what choice do we have? We must sell.'

He rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘I know you are right but I would burn the place to the ground rather than let that swine have it.'

‘Oh, Father!' Llinos said impatiently. ‘It's a solution, just think about it for a moment.'

‘You are so gullible girl,' Lloyd said. ‘Oh, go away, leave me, I can't think straight.'

Llinos sighed, shaking her head and after a moment left him alone. It was dark in the hallway, the sun had finally set. She made her way slowly upstairs. In her bedroom, she stood in the window, staring out, trying to make sense of her muddled thoughts.

Her father and Philip Morton-Edwards had always been rivals. Maybe her father and Eynon were right and she had been wrong about Philip all along?

If only Joe was here. He was wise, he would hold her in his arms, kiss her, make her feel free and light, make her feel like a woman.

She stretched out on top of the quilt, not even bothering to take off her shoes. Her mind ran round in circles as she tried to think of a way to save the pottery. But in the end, there was only the glaringly obvious solution, that they sell out to Philip Morton-Edwards.

‘You are a clever darling, aren't you?' Georgina sat beside Philip and leaned against his shoulder, staring up at him admiringly. Men, especially old men like Philip, were so susceptible to flattery.

‘Well, it was a master stroke, although I say it myself. I have got what I want at last, the land adjoining my pottery. Now the pottery will be the biggest one for miles around. Bigger even than some of the Staffordshire potteries. Yes, I am clever, aren't I?'

Georgina nuzzled her cheek against his. ‘And I am lucky, having such a wonderful man as you. I think I've been in love with you from the moment I saw you, Philip, darling.' It was a blatant lie but Philip did not see through it. He took her hand and kissed it; he was like a grateful puppy but then she was bringing him a great deal of money. He would have not only a share of her fortune but the use of her lithe young body. For those privileges, he would pay dearly.

Georgina knew she gave the impression that she was light-hearted without a brain in her head, but she had listened well to her father. Before he had died, he had taught her a great deal about people. He was a wise man, a man who had been a doctor and a philosopher. He showed her how she could hide some of her fortune in an account in Switzerland, the country of his birth.

‘Remember, when you marry, your fortune becomes the property of your husband,' he had told her gravely. ‘But a husband cannot control what he does not know about.'

Dear Papa, he had been the one man she could respect. Perhaps the only man she would ever love unconditionally. He would have congratulated her on her stroke of genius in persuading Philip to put the land around the Savage Pottery in her godmother's name. The townspeople might know very well that Georgina Fairwater had come to stay in Swansea but no-one would pause to think that her godmother, Aunt Catherine, went by the name of Sanders. Thank heaven the old woman had taken to her bed early and had not been present when Llinos Savage arrived. Catherine was getting old and sometimes she let things slip that were best kept secret.

‘You are very quiet, my dear.' Philip's voice roused her from her reverie.

‘I was thinking how wonderful it will be when we are married,' she lied. ‘How I long to be Mrs Morton-Edwards.'

‘And you will be, my dear, very soon.'

‘How soon, my darling?'

Philip laughed and took her in his arms. ‘You are an eager young thing, aren't you? But then, your blood is hot. I shall match your passion, my dear, I think you will find I'm as good a lover as any young buck.'

She lowered her eyes. ‘You forget, Philip, I'm an innocent. I know nothing of men or of their passions.'

She could have laughed out loud at her own audacity. She had taken a stable boy as her amusement when she was but fourteen years old.

‘I will teach you about love and I shall be a good teacher. You will bear me sons, strong healthy sons.'

‘But what about Eynon?' Her eyes were round. ‘Much of his fortune is from his mother's family, he will inherit everything, won't he?'

‘Not if I can get around it. And I will, I swear I will. I will have him declared insane if I have to.'

She was exultant, convinced now that she had been wise to follow her godmother's advice. She would have Philip's fortune to add to her own – eventually.

‘Shall we set a date for our wedding, darling?' she asked, rubbing her fingertips over the back of his hand. He took her in his arms and kissed her lingeringly. She was surprised at his ardour. Well, it was something she would encourage. If he overexerted himself so much the better. His early demise would be very gratifying. As for Eynon, the weak-kneed fop, let him rot in Bedlam for all she cared. Though, come to think of it, there might just be a better way of getting rid of him, she must ponder on it.

As Philip's hand strayed to her breast, she pushed him gently.

‘No, my darling, we mustn't get carried away. We must be properly married before . . .' She tried to force some colour into her cheeks . . . ‘you know.'

‘My dear little Georgina, you
are
an innocent. Very well, I will make the arrangements for our marriage to take place as soon as possible.'

She buried her face against his shoulder. ‘I'm so happy, my darling.' She smiled to herself; She had Philip just where she wanted him. Her little tricks had trapped him. He had seen past her rather ordinary face and glimpsed the magnificent figure beneath her clothes. And that was all she had allowed him, a glimpse. If he wanted to taste her fruits, he would have to put a ring on her finger first.

‘I'm sure there has been some mistake.' Abbot sat behind his desk fiddling nervously with a sheaf of papers.

‘I hope so.' Joe spoke affably. ‘Mistakes can be rectified.' He sat back in his chair and waited. He could see the sweat break out on the other man's brow. The silence lengthened, still Joe waited. He had learned as a child that the best way to stalk a prey was in silence.

‘I will investigate the matter as soon as possible,' Abbot said at last. Joe sat immovable. Abbot coughed.

‘If you will leave the matter with me, I'll look into it,' he said.

Joe rose slowly and stood staring down at the man. His shirt was frayed and spotted with the remains of his breakfast. His hair was in need of attention. He was as shabby as his surroundings.

‘Just bring me the money my sisters gave you.' Joe leaned against the door. He had no intention of leaving.

‘But I'll have to speak to the bank – there are formalities in a case like this.'

‘I'll wait here.'

Abbot looked around him, it was clear he was worried about leaving Joe alone in the office. He rose to his feet, he was still uncertain.

‘If you could come back in, say . . . an hour, perhaps?'

‘No.' Joe folded his arms across his chest. He could have smiled at the dismay on Abbot's face.

‘Oh, very well.' Abbot moved from behind his desk, keeping a safe distance from Joe. ‘I'll be back.'

‘Come alone. If you have anyone with you, that crooked solicitor, for instance, I'll hit you first and then ask questions.'

Abbot darted out and Joe watched him as he scurried along the street. He had no illusions about the man. He probably had no intention of returning, at least not until Joe had given up waiting and left.

Joe began to make a systematic search of the office. Quickly and efficiently he opened drawers and cupboards finding only layer upon layer of dusty papers.

He paused and looked around him. Abbot must hide his money somewhere, he was not the sort of man to use the services of a bank.