The Wild Seed (7 page)

Bethan watched him with worried eyes and her father rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘What is it, Bethan?’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Daddy.’

‘I mean there is a feeling of unrest about the house since the rude O’Conner girl’s visit and it is a feeling I do not much like.’

‘I’m sorry, Father.’ Bethan was aware she sounded abrupt but she felt no remorse, whatever might be wrong was between herself and her husband, nothing to do with her father.

Breakfast seemed to go on interminably, her father ate slowly, his teeth after all were old. Bethan felt like screaming at him to hurry.

At last, when he rose from the table, dropping his immaculate napkin beside his plate, she rose too, sighing in relief. ‘I shan’t be long, Daddy, I have things to do.’ She hurried from the dining-room, aware that her behaviour was very much removed from her usual placid calm.

Upstairs, the sun slanted fingers along the huge landing, lighting the faces of the portraits on the walls: Bethan’s ancestors. She looked at the painting of Elizabeth Llewellyn who died tragically at an early age, she might almost be looking at her own image, except that Elizabeth had a beauty, a grace of feature that Bethan knew she lacked.

Bethan entered her bedroom and sank onto an ornately upholstered chair in the window, staring down at the sea far below. What was between her husband and the young girl with the red hair? What secrets did they share from their past, the past that had nothing to do with Bethan, Boyo’s wife.

It was an absurd revelation, but in that moment Bethan knew what she’d suspected for some time. She had believed she had married Boyo out of friendship, out of mutual admiration and trust and because they were both lonely people who felt each could give the other a great deal. Oh, yes, she had married him for all those reasons but underneath it all, she had married Boyo Hopkins because she loved him.

The farmhouse came into sight, the building dark against the light of the sky. Across the valley the jagged teeth of the ruined tannery buildings sent shadows across the ground that appeared, from this distance, to be gaping holes.

Boyo had been thinking about business as he rode into Swansea, pondering on the problems that had forced Hari Grenfell to come to him cap in hand, so to speak. He had been happy to assist her, her reputation in Swansea as a fine and honest businesswoman was unsurpassed. Even if he was throwing good money away on a hopeless enterprise, he could well afford it, he would not miss the money he had paid into the Hammet Bank. Still, that was not the point, it was perhaps foolish to hand such sums willy-nilly to anyone who asked him for help.

As he approached the farmhouse and saw Catherine run towards him, her skirts lifting in the breeze, thoughts of business went out of his head.

‘Boyo,’ she paused, breathless, her colour high, her mouth, that sweet, kissable mouth, trembling. ‘I’m glad you came; my father won’t speak to me, he’s ashamed of me, the way I stayed out all night. He thinks the worst, you must talk to him for me.’

Boyo dismounted from his horse and resisted the longing to take Catherine in his arms. When he had taken her home, a few days ago, he had not waited to talk to her parents, it had seemed tactful to keep out of it, but now he was troubled, feeling he had avoided his responsibilities.

‘And you must be in trouble, too, with your wife. I shouldn’t have come to your house, I’m sorry, Boyo, but I didn’t know …’ Her voice trailed away and guilt gripped him. Catherine looked up at him, her silky hair streaming about her face as she stood close to him.

‘Let’s worry about your problems, solve those before we talk of mine, shall we?’

‘Boyo,’ she leaned against him and he could smell the perfume of her skin; desire flamed through him and such love that he hadn’t believed possible. With sudden clarity, he realized that Catherine was everything to him. He was glad that their affair was out in the open; now perhaps Bethan would agree to giving him a divorce. The thought was not without pain, he hated the idea of hurting Bethan, divorce brought scandalmongers out from the woodwork, however innocent the injured party.

‘Mam and Dad are angry with me but they will listen when you explain what happened; that I stayed at your house with you, that we love each other … You do love me, don’t you Boyo?’

He kissed her then, pressing her sweetness against him. ‘I do love you, Catherine and we will be together, I promise you.’

She touched his face. ‘You must tell my father that I can’t marry this Liam Cullen; it’s out of the question. I would die if Dad made me go to Ireland, away from you.’

Boyo took Catherine’s hand and approached the farmhouse door with some trepidation; from what he remembered of Jamie O’Conner the man was independent, fiercely proud, a man who would not be lightly swayed.

As he drew nearer the farmhouse, he saw Jamie himself come to the door. He felt Catherine stiffen and eased his arm over her shoulder. ‘It’s going to be all right, no-one can force you into a marriage that you do not want.’

‘So, it’s Boyo, the tannery worker, the one who took my hospitality, who courted my stepdaughter. Now, sure enough, you are after my youngest, my only surviving child, ruining her reputation along the way. I think you have a great deal of explaining to do.’

‘Dad,’ Catherine interrupted, ‘just listen, let Boyo talk.’

Jamie took Catherine by the shoulders. ‘Go inside, I’ll talk to you later.’

Boyo looped the reins of his horse over a post. He moved towards the door but Jamie barred his way. ‘I never invited you to step over my threshold and I would be obliged if you would give me your explanation, if there is one, and then leave me and my family in peace.’

‘I can’t do that, Mr O’Conner.’ Boyo suddenly felt all the old insecurities swamp him. Once, many summers ago, when he had been just above sixteen years of age he had come to this very farmhouse with nothing and had been made welcome. Now, he was no longer welcome.

He had come a long way from those penniless days but not in the eyes of Jamie O’Conner. To the Irishman he was still Boyo, the labourer, the boy who owned nothing.

‘If Boyo can’t come inside then I won’t either,’ Catherine said firmly.

‘Go indoors when I tell you.’ Jamie’s eyes blazed and he took a step towards Boyo. ‘Get on with you, back where you belong.’

‘No,’ Fon had come outside, drying her hands on a cloth, her fair hair escaping from the pins that held it away from her face. ‘Come in, Boyo, I once said you would always be welcome here and I meant it.’

She gave her husband a hard look and, after a moment, Jamie stepped aside. ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘since you have made my family’s business your own you might as well come and hear what I have to say.’

Inside the kitchen it was bright and cheerful, just as Boyo remembered it. He was taken back, as though swept by an unseen wave. He saw again April’s sweet face, her eyes looking into his; felt a pang of pain for the love that had been between them.

‘You have seen fit to hide yourself away from me since your night of sin with my girl and I am waiting for an explanation.’ Jamie stood proudly before the fireplace, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes hostile.

‘Catherine came and stayed the night with me and my family,’ Boyo said. ‘We were not alone in the house, I assure you.’ He smiled encouragingly at Catherine.

‘So you have not taken her to bed then, is that what you are saying?’

‘At least I am not trying to sell her off into a marriage with a stranger.’ Boyo heard the anger in his voice and knew he must control his temper, shouting would get him nowhere.

‘It wasn’t like that at all, colleen!’ Jamie looked at Catherine. ‘The Cullens are kinsfolk, I wanted you to meet them, I hoped you’d come to realize that Liam Cullen would be a fine catch.’ He softened a little. ‘But there was no thought of forcing you into anything.’

‘You wanted me to go off to Ireland and marry Liam, don’t try to get out of it, Dad.’

‘Liam and his family are well set up, a wealthy family; you would have been treated like a queen, given everything you ever wanted. All I was doing was paving the way.’ His voice was gentle. ‘Don’t you know I want the best for you, always?’

‘Everything I ever wanted is here in this kitchen.’ She looked meaningfully at Boyo and his heart seemed to melt within him.

‘Explain yourself, Catherine! Do you mean to marry this man then?’ Jamie had caught the look, his voice had grown harsh. Fon put the teapot on the table with a thud.

‘No need for words, these two are in love with each other,’ she said softly. ‘And isn’t it natural enough; knew each other as children, didn’t they? We can all talk of marriage in good time, no need to rush into anything, is there?’

‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ Jamie sank into a chair and ran his hand through his dark curls. ‘Is this the lad you’ve been courting, then, Cath?’

Catherine hung her head and Jamie leaned over and touched her shoulder. ‘Catherine, answer me.’

‘I love him, Dad, I can’t ever love another man, please try to understand.’

Jamie looked at Boyo, took in his good clothes, his riding crop with the silver top, his good, handmade riding boots. ‘Well, it should have been done right, you should have called to see me before this, discussed matters with me. As to rushing, Fon, my darlin’, it seems these two have been bedded before being wedded and that I do not approve of. Still, it can all be mended, I dare say. And you, Boyo, what do you say about all this?’

‘I love Catherine,’ Boyo answered sharply. He was suddenly, tinglingly aware that the Irishman did not know he was married.

‘And your prospects?’ Jamie bristled at Boyo’s tone.

‘I think you could say that I don’t need prospects, I am already one of the richest men in the county.’ Boyo did not understand why he felt the need to impress Jamie, perhaps it was the patronizing way the older man was looking at him, assessing him.

‘Well then, why did you not come calling like a proper suitor?’ Jamie crossed his big arms, the muscles bulging beneath the flannel of his shirt.

It was pointless prevaricating and Boyo knew it. ‘Because I couldn’t, I’m a married man.’

‘Holy Mary Mother of God!’ Jamie crossed himself almost as though he had come up against a devil. He rose to his feet and thumped his fist on the table.

‘You fool, Catherine, you have thrown yourself away on a married man, a man who will only use you for his pleasure.’ He stood before his daughter. ‘And you went to his bed like a strumpet, how could you?’

Catherine lowered her eyes. She didn’t answer but her shoulders began to shake; it was clear she was crying. Boyo hurriedly knelt beside her, his arm around her as though to protect her from her father’s anger.

‘So, you have shamed my daughter, taken from her the one thing that would bring her a good match, her innocence.’

Jamie snatched the crop from Boyo’s hand and raised it high. It swished through the air and then whistled down across Boyo’s back.

Slowly, Boyo rose to his feet and faced the other man, his expression cold. ‘If you were not Catherine’s father and if I did not have so much regard for this family I would take you apart for what you have just done.’

Jamie turned away in disgust. ‘Get out of here, the both of you,’ he said, his voice thick.

‘No!’ Fon’s voice was thin with fear. ‘No, Jamie, I will not have you to send our daughter away like a leper.’

‘She is no longer my daughter,’ Jamie said bitterly. ‘She has made her bed with a married man and if he is as wealthy as he boasts then he is well able to support her and any bastards he might father on her, too.’

He turned and looked at his wife. ‘She goes, Fon, or I do.’

Catherine rose to her feet slowly. ‘I’ll go, don’t worry; I wouldn’t stay here now, not in the house where I could be sold to the highest bidder like a piece of meat. Is that your morality, Father? Is that what your faith teaches you, to peddle your daughter’s virginity for the best price you can get?’

Jamie’s hand lashed out and caught Catherine across her face. She staggered back and Boyo moved swiftly, catching her before she could fall to the ground. He took her up in his arms and stared at her father with cold eyes.

‘I could kill you for what you have done today,’ he said slowly.

‘And I could kill you, too, you bastard from the work-house,’ Jamie said, his eyes suspiciously bright. ‘Go on, get out of my sight before I take the shotgun to you.’

As Boyo carried Catherine outside and set her upon the saddle, he could hear Fon crying bitterly. A great sadness came over him; all this, it was so far removed from the wonderful days of the summer when he had come here as a young boy and had fallen in love with April.

Catherine huddled against him. ‘I’m sorry, Boyo, I never thought it would come to this.’

‘Hush, it’s going to be all right, I’ll take care of everything.’ His mind was racing, he would have to take her to a hotel for a few days, just until he could find her a house.

‘What do you mean to do with me?’ Her voice was small, uncertain.

‘I shall buy you a pretty cottage, with roses around the door,’ he said in an attempt to cheer her; ‘it will have a garden and it shall be near the sea.’

‘So I shall be your kept woman, is that it, Boyo?’

His heart lurched. ‘My love, if I was a free man I would marry you tomorrow. I will tell Bethan I want a divorce, it will be a terrible shock to her, I must try and break it gently, when the time is right. The best I can offer you for now is a home and all my love. Will that be enough for you?’

She leaned back against his shoulder and sighed as though she was very weary. ‘It will have to be, Boyo, it will have to be.’

Bethan was relieved when her father had returned home to Ty Craig, the big gaunt house where she had been born. The last few days had been a strain with all of them keeping up the pretence that nothing was wrong.

Boyo had studiously avoided intimate contact with her and it was only for appearance’s sake that he had shared her bed, she knew that well enough. Passionate response there had never been but, now, his indifference to her was like a huge wall that split the ground between them into a chasm. The moment her father had gone, Boyo had moved to another room without any explanation at all.