Firebird (47 page)

High on the wall was a long clock. It was covered in dust and clearly had not worked in years. Joe took a chair and stood on it and lifted the clock from its robust hangings. The back was screwed into place and was obviously an addition to the original casing.

Joe drew a knife from his belt and set to work on the screws. They were not tightly threaded and it was an easy job to remove the back from the clock.

He lifted out of the false back of the clock four leather pouches and put them on the desk. He had found Abbot's hoard of money.

Joe took only the amount that Abbot had tricked out of the two sisters. He had no doubt that the rest of the money represented ill-gotten gains and, on an impulse, he took the pouches into the street and began to scatter the gold coins into the roadway.

It took no time at all for folk to gather round, picking up the coins and hiding them away in pockets and gloves and bags. As the last pouch was emptied, Joe saw Abbot appear at the edge of the crowd, his dark brows raised in curiosity. When he saw what Joe was doing, he howled like a wounded animal and tried to dash into the centre of the crowd.

He was pushed back and Joe walked to where Abbot stood, tears dripping down his red face.

‘Have any luck in the bank?' he said, and Abbot lunged towards him, his hands raised like claws. Joe easily side-stepped him and Abbot fell into the dust bawling like a baby.

Joe, with one last look at the pathetic Abbot, mounted his horse and made for home. When he handed the money to Letitia she looked up at him questioningly.

‘Keep it, put it aside in case you might need it. It took a bit of persuading for Abbot to part with it, but I convinced him in the end.'

‘Well done.' Letitia was a woman of few words but those words made Joe smile.

Later, they sat down to a hot supper. Letitia looked across the table at Joe and took a deep breath.

‘You will be leaving for home soon?' She regarded him steadily. ‘I will be sorry to see you go.'

‘You have read my mind. It's about time I left.'

‘Marry the girl,' Letitia said bluntly. ‘If you know she's the one for you then nothing else matters.'

Joe smiled. ‘Will you come to the wedding?'

It was Charlotte who answered. ‘Oh, Joe, a wedding, try keeping us away!'

It was early the next morning when Joe set out for Swansea. The mists were rising from the river, spiralling upwards to a leaden sky. But he felt light-hearted, he was going home. To Llinos.

‘Father's gone to a meeting, I can't help thinking there will be trouble,' said Llinos.

She was sitting with Eynon in the parlour of Pottery House. A cheerful fire crackled in the grate and outside the wind lifted the branches of the old oak trees. Sitting in the corner, silently sewing, sat Celia, her thin figure hunched into a shawl.

He took Llinos's hand. ‘Listen to me, you don't realize what a dangerous man my father is.'

‘Surely not dangerous, Eynon. I'm willing to concede that he might be devious, crooked even but not dangerous.' She paused. ‘I'm surprised I haven't heard from him in the last few days.'

‘He's gone to London with Georgina. They are to be married there with a great deal of pomp and ceremony, I understand.'

‘How does that affect you, Eynon?'

‘It means I will have two enemies wanting to be rid of me instead of one.'

‘But what good would it do anyone to “get rid of you” as you call it?'

‘Silly, innocent Llinos. I'm worth quite a bit of money. My father and his sweet little bride want their hands on it. What's more, with me out of the way, Georgina's sons would inherit Father's estate.'

Llinos rubbed her eyes. ‘I can't believe that anyone could be so wicked, Eynon.'

Eynon shook his head. ‘Believe it! My father sent two men to England after Joe.'

‘Joe?' Her throat was suddenly dry. ‘But why?'

‘He believes Joe is with me in the deal to buy the land behind the pottery.'

‘Did they hurt him? Is Joe all right?'

Eynon smiled. ‘I'm sure he is. In any event the men came running back to Swansea with their tails between their legs. Oh, don't worry, Joe can look after himself.'

Llinos heard the crunch of wheels on the ground outside and inwardly braced herself.

‘Father's back from the meeting at the inn.' She moved to the door. ‘If the people of the row find out that your family is behind the evictions, they'll be out for blood.'

‘I know,' Eynon said. ‘But Aunt Catherine is just a cover, a name to hide behind. I doubt she realizes half of what's going on under her nose.'

The door opened and Lloyd was wheeled into the room by one of the men from the row.

‘Lovely fire you got there, Miss Savage.' Jim Cooper pushed the chair near the blaze. The smell of ale was heavy in the small room.

‘We've come to an agreement,' Lloyd said, holding his hands out to the blaze. ‘We are not going to take this lying down.'

‘What can we do, Father?' Llinos asked. It was Jim who replied.

‘We are going to man the roadway, day and night,' he said. ‘We'll make sure that the pots get out and the supplies get in. We are not going to be done out of our homes and our jobs by some scum with more money than sense.'

‘Here! Here!' Celia said loudly. ‘The womenfolk will be right with you, don't you worry.'

‘Won't you be breaking the law?' Llinos asked worriedly.

‘We have to do something, Llinos. We can't just sit on our backsides and make no protest while our living is destroyed.'

‘I'll be behind you all the way, Lloyd.' Eynon was leaning forward eagerly. ‘My father has blocked the building on the land behind the pottery for the time being, but I have money enough to pay lawyers and I will. It's about time justice was done.'

‘Good lad.' Lloyd held out his hand and Eynon shook it. ‘Tomorrow,' Lloyd continued, ‘the men are returning to work. Anyone who uses violence will be met by violence.'

‘Father, are you sure that's wise?' Llinos pulled her chair close to his.

‘It's a question of survival, Llinos,' Lloyd said. ‘We have our pride and we intend to fight. If we fail at least we can say we tried.' He touched her hair. His voice softened. ‘Anything is better than sitting around doing nothing.'

‘I know we have to do something, Father,' Llinos said, ‘but are you sure this is the right way to tackle the problem?'

‘What other way is there?'

Llinos knew by the set of her father's face that he would not be shifted from his purpose. Her heart sank, why were men so intractable?

Eynon rose. ‘It's time I was getting back home.' Jim Cooper took his cue from Eynon.

‘Aye, me too, I'll see you in the morning, Captain Savage, bright and early.'

Eynon waited for Jim to leave and then he came back to the fireside. ‘My father has been very cunning, Lloyd, but perhaps we can outwit him, play him at his own game.'

‘How, just tell me that, Eynon?' Lloyd looked up eagerly at the younger man.

‘I'll talk to my aunt, ask her to allow the people of the row to return to their houses. I will also ask her to sign a document allowing you free access.'

‘Why should she do that?'

‘My father is away, so is Georgina – I will never have a better time to approach the old lady.'

‘All right, go ahead. I'll keep the men quiet in the morning. We'll wait for you to come to us.'

Eynon smiled at Llinos. ‘Don't look so worried, this will all work out, you'll see.'

Llinos was worried. From the little she had heard of Mrs Sanders, the lady was not one to give in so easily.

Later, as she lay in the darkness, Llinos put all thoughts of the pottery out of her mind. She concentrated on Joe. She saw in the darkness the outline of his strong face, saw the hair sweep his shoulders, felt his arms, strong around her. She wanted Joe so badly it hurt.

She knew he felt she had let him down. They had been married by the laws of the American Indians and should have been married in church as soon as they returned to Swansea. If she had done as Joe wished, she would be lying with him now instead of alone with only her imaginings for company.

She sat up abruptly, the bedclothes slipping away from her. Joe was here! She knew it, felt it. She pulled on a robe and padded to the window. A slant of moonlight fell across the yard and after a moment she saw him, a shadow among the shadows. Was he really there or was her imagination playing tricks on her?

She hurried downstairs and opened the back door to the yard. Then she was in his arms. She breathed in Joe's scent, touched his skin, his hair. Neither of them spoke. He held her close, his lips against her hair. Slowly, he tipped her face up to his and his mouth was hot against hers.

Llinos felt a surge of an emotion that was more than happiness, more than desire. ‘Joe.' Her voice was hoarse. ‘I love you so much!'

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. She wanted more of him. She wanted to possess him. To be one with him.

He kissed her throat, the rise of her breasts between the edges of her robe. Passion flared through her. She responded to him, pressing herself against the hardness of his body.

When he moved from her she felt cold. ‘Joe . . .' Her voice trailed away. How could she ask him to come to her bed? She could not be so immodest. And yet everything in her yearned to have him hold her in his arms again.

‘Go to bed now.' He spoke softly. ‘I shall sleep in the kitchen, near the fire.' She felt rather than saw him smile.

‘I shall keep the flame alight, don't you worry, my Firebird.'

She did not want to leave him but if she stayed with him any longer, she would forget modesty, forget pride. She would beg him to make love to her. She turned and ran upstairs. If she gave in to her feelings now, she would make a mockery of all the protestations she had made about waiting for a proper church wedding.

She sank onto her bed and clenched her hands together. ‘Damn and blast my stupid scruples.' Her whisper hung for a moment on the air and then there was only the silence of the night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Philip Morton-Edwards was a happy man. He had found in his new wife the perfect woman. After the first few nights of their marriage when she was understandably modest, she had responded to his demands with an eagerness that pleased and excited him.

Admittedly, she was plain of face but her body was young and strong; her breast full and ripe, her hips curved pleasingly. Best of all, she enjoyed experimenting as much as he did. With her he did not need to resort to threats or coercion as he'd done with Estelle. Even better, Georgina was not very bright, he could influence her in any way he chose.

He was sitting at his desk in the den, staring out of the window at the garden beyond. He could see his land spread out before him and he felt a glow of satisfaction. Soon, he would own the Savage Pottery and there was nothing Lloyd Savage could do to prevent it.

One little task remained unattended to, that was the matter of Eynon. The boy had shown more grit than Philip had expected. Perhaps it would have been advisable to allow the boy to trek off to North Wales and live near the vapid cleric.

Martin would never have inspired Eynon to show such courage and strength. No, the fault for that lay with the foreigner Lloyd Savage had brought home with him.

Philip had been angry and disappointed when the men he had sent to England had failed to get rid of the Indian, but perhaps it was just as well. It was just possible that this half-breed Indian could yet prove useful. It was something he would ponder over.

He turned the pages of the order book he'd brought in from the manufactory. Business was booming, the porcelain wares, though still throwing up a great deal of waste, paid well. The plain pottery side of the business had begun to flourish simply because Lloyd Savage had been prevented from trading.

‘Philip, darling, could I interrupt just for a moment?' Georgina was standing in the doorway. Her bodice was low-cut, the waist high, all of which served to emphasize the lovely swell of her breasts. Philip was immediately roused. He was proud of his reaction, not bad for a man in his middle years.

‘You can interrupt me any time you wish, my dear. Come in.' He held out his arms and his new wife came into them with an eagerness that was gratifying. Her breasts brushed against his face and he buried his head against her softness.

‘Darling, the door is open, the maids might see us.'

Philip pushed her bodice aside with his chin and his mouth fastened onto a pink nipple. He cared not a fig for the servants. If they saw anything then the fault was theirs, they should not be snooping.

The thought of being observed stimulated him. He pushed up the thin material of Georgina's dress and pressed against her. She began to respond in a most gratifying way. Her head was flung back, soft moans escaped from her rosy lips. He laughed, she was as roused as he by the thought that someone might see them. Yes, this marriage was working out in a most satisfactory way.

Though Philip did not know it, Georgina was of a like mind. ‘It's working rather well, isn't it, God-Mamma?' Georgina was seated in the window staring out at the early-evening sky. The old lady was positioned next to the ornate lamp, stitching at a sampler.

‘It seems that way,' she said. ‘He thinks you stupid, me too. So did his son, coming cap in hand expecting me to give him all he asked for. Well, I showed him the rough side of my tongue.'

She smiled enigmatically. ‘Did I hear sounds of passion earlier this morning?'