Firebird (50 page)

Binnie and Hortense were married within the month. The occasion was celebrated hugely; most of the villagers had attended the ceremony, all of them dressed in their Sunday best. Binnie found the actual marriage ceremony short and to the point, conducted as it was by the local clergyman. It had been a relief when he had slipped the thin band on the finger of his new wife and stepped out of the heat of the small church into the fresh sunshine.

‘Well, I'm Mrs Dundee now.' Hortense looked up at him with a smile. ‘You will find me a good wife and a willing mate, Binnie. But I will not be put aside for any other woman, do you understand that?'

Binnie looked into her eyes. ‘I have no intention of playing the fool, Hortense. I didn't do it before we were wed, so why should I do it after?'

‘You are right on that point,' Hortense agreed. ‘But in this country where there are many women without a man, these infidelities do occur. Look at my daddy, he's had a little woman from way back.'

‘Has he?' Binnie was genuinely shocked and Hortense laughed.

‘Yes, well, Momma has never liked the bedroom activities and so she don't mind. I would mind.'

Binnie drew her into his arms. ‘Does that mean you like the bedroom activities then?'

‘I don't know yet but I'm sure looking forward to finding out.'

Hortense smiled and drew away from him. ‘But now, Mr Binnie Dundee, we got to be with our guests, it's only polite.'

It was midnight before Binnie could lead Hortense away from the festivities and carry her over the threshold of their new home.

Dan McCabe's men had worked like beavers to construct the neat, two-bedroomed house in readiness for the wedding day and now they all stood watching as Binnie carried his new bride inside and closed the door.

‘Shall I light the lamps?' Binnie set Hortense down and she laughed low in the darkness.

‘Not yet.' She drew him towards the bedroom and he could hear the sound of her slipping off her clothes. He slid under the blankets and felt her softness against him. She wound her arms around him and as he kissed her mouth for the first time, Binnie knew that he was in love. Hortense was his woman and he would treat her gently, he would be good and kind to her always, he would never want to leave her.

It was the early hours of the morning before Hortense rose from the bed and sighed softly into the darkness. She lit a lamp and stood it in the window and Binnie sat up sharply as a great roar went up from outside the house.

‘That's the sign they were waiting for,' Hortense said. ‘Now they know I'm truly your wife, the celebrations will be over, they'll all go home to bed.'

‘Come back here, wife,' Binnie said. ‘Our celebrations are only just beginning.'

‘We've been betrayed,' Lloyd said flatly and Llinos rested her hand on his arm as though she could protect him from his own pain. ‘The bastards have left me, all of them except old Ben and Jim Cooper have gone to work for that twicer Philip Morton-Edwards.'

‘Father, they were afraid, they almost lost their houses and their jobs. You can't really blame them.'

‘I do blame them. Is there no such thing as loyalty any more?'

Llinos sighed. ‘We must think of a way of getting our workers back, Father.'

‘What can I offer them, Llinos? I have nothing more to give.'

‘Don't say that.'

‘It's true.' Lloyd rubbed his eyes. ‘I might as well lie down and die right now. I'm finished. Philip Morton-Edwards has won the battle.'

Lloyd was white, his face thin and drawn. Suddenly, he looked old and ill. He wheeled his chair away from her and along the corridor to his room at the back of the house. He closed the door against her with a snap of finality and Llinos put her hand to her lips, fighting back the tears.

Outside, the air was soft and warm but Llinos felt cold. She wrapped her arms around her body and stared at the empty sheds, at the silent yard which, at this time of day, usually thronged with activity. At the kilns, cold now, unused, the fires no more than ashes.

She squared her shoulders. She would speak to Philip, talk to him reasonably. She couldn't believe he would have gone this far, not unless he allowed his wife to speak for him now.

As she drew her cloak around her shoulders, Joe came silently behind her and stood looking down at her. He shook his head.

‘You can't reason with such people.' He spoke gently. ‘They are bent on having their own way.'

‘I don't think Philip is like that,' Llinos protested. ‘I'm going to make one last attempt to talk to him, face to face.'

Joe said nothing and Llinos clasped her hands together.

‘Do you think I'm wrong? I must at least try to sort this out amicably.'

He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Whatever you feel you must do, then do it.'

Llinos covered the short distance between the potteries with brisk steps, her mind in a whirl. Philip was a reasonable man, he would have to listen to her, wouldn't he?

It was Georgina who greeted Llinos. She was sitting in the drawing-room, her eyes alight with malice. She did not rise, neither did she offer Llinos a seat.

‘I would like to see Philip . . . Mr Morton-Edwards. I have something I must discuss . . .' Llinos began but Georgina's tinkling laugh stopped her mid-sentence.

‘You must appreciate that my husband is a busy man. From time to time he needs to go away on business. Anything you have to discuss you shall have to discuss with me.'

Llinos felt anger surge within her but she struggled to keep a rein on her temper.

‘You have offered my father's workers more pay, is that why they came to you?'

‘Of course it is. How naïve of you to even ask. In addition, they had their little hovels back rent-free so they came running. You did not expect loyalty from the lower orders, surely?'

‘I did not expect double-dealing from a lady,' Llinos said tartly. Georgina's eyebrows rose.

‘Oh, make no mistake, Miss Savage, I will look after my own interests, do not doubt it.'

‘When will Philip be back?' Llinos asked desperately.

Georgina shook her head. ‘If I knew, I would not tell you. In any case, it makes no difference. You and your tin-pot manufactory are finished. Do you understand me, finished?'

‘Why are you so vindictive towards me and my father?' Llinos asked. ‘What have we ever done to harm you?'

‘Grow up, Miss Savage, business is business and if your little place falls by the wayside that is no concern of mine. My only purpose in employing these people is to guard my husband's interests.'

Llinos moved towards the door. ‘I can see there's no point talking to you.'

Georgina rose to her feet in a sweeping movement and came towards Llinos.

‘You are not much of a businesswoman, are you? And certainly not much of a lady to consort with a half-breed however handsome he might be.'

Llinos smiled suddenly. ‘That half-breed, as you call him, is a man of substance. He has lands and a great deal of property in England. He is also very clever.' She paused and her smile widened. ‘And, of course, unlike your husband, he is young.'

Georgina swirled away from her, the colour rising to her cheeks. ‘Please leave my house.'

‘Look.' Llinos made one last attempt to appeal to Georgina's better nature. ‘I want the pottery to survive because of my father. It is his livelihood and he does not deserve to have it taken away from him. But then, I can't expect you to understand any of that, you have no finer feelings.'

She left the house and walked briskly towards Pottery Row; the sooner she was off Morton-Edwards' land the better. As she crossed the opening to the yard of Tawe Pottery, she caught sight of Jim Cooper. He lifted his hat to her and she stood waiting for him to come closer.

‘Miss Savage, I've been trying to talk to the men, to get them back to work at the Savage Pottery. They are not all that happy at Tawe Pottery, some of them are grumbling already about Morton-Edwards not paying as well as expected.'

He fell into step beside her. Llinos smiled up at him. ‘Well, I'm grateful to you for trying, Jim. Grateful for your loyalty and support, I know it's cost you dear.'

‘Well if them buggers don't want to speak to me, then that's their loss.' He sighed. ‘It's my missis feels it most. Loves a gossip she does and only Celia-end-house will bother with her.'

‘We'll work something out, Jim, I'm sure.'

When she returned home, Joe was waiting for her. He took her hand. ‘Let's walk to the top of Poppets Hill.'

A pale sun was shining between the clouds. Llinos looked up at Joe. He was magnificent. His hair swung to his shoulders, his head raised as though to see into the distance. His high cheekbones gleamed golden, splashed with light. Her heart moved with pride. Joe loved her. She was the richest woman in the world.

A carriage rattled past and Llinos was aware of faces. Georgina and her godmother were peering through the window at her. She smiled, no doubt they were discussing what a hussy she was, flouting convention by walking out alone with a man.

At the top of the hill, the roadway petered out and Llinos felt the softness of grass beneath her feet. Below her, spread out like a giant picture, lay the town. And beyond the huddle of buildings, the sea fanned out towards the horizon, blue beneath the unexpected sunlight.

‘It's so beautiful.' Llinos spoke softly. ‘The sun shining through the rain clouds, the sea sparkling as if hundreds of candles were alight beneath the water.' She looked up at Joe.

His eyes met hers. ‘Nothing could be as beautiful as you, Llinos.'

‘Let's sit here for a while,' Llinos said. ‘Let's forget the potteries, forget everything. Let's just enjoy being together. We've had little enough time for that, goodness knows.'

They sat on a fallen log, Joe's arm warm around her. Llinos sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

‘This is the closest I'll ever get to a heaven on earth.' She closed her eyes. She would not think, would not worry, she would just enjoy the moment.

Lloyd turned his chair towards the window and looked outside at the bleak emptiness of the yard. He clenched his fist, the knuckles showing white. He had never felt so angry, so impotent. Philip Morton-Edwards had beaten him. The man had destroyed his trade, stolen his workers, ruined what was left of his life. He hated him with an intensity that brought sweat out in beads on his forehead.

He rubbed his face in frustration, sometimes he felt he would go mad. Here he was, half a man, he would never lie with a woman again, never know a woman's love. He was a useless object, his life was not worth living.

His thoughts were racing, he wanted to kill Philip Morton-Edwards, to see him suffer, to see him lose everything.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his crazy thoughts. He turned away from the window and propelled himself along the passage.

‘Jim, what can I do for you?'

‘I've thought of a way out of this mess.' Jim came into the room, a big man with huge arms and a chest like a barrel.

‘I'm listening.'

‘This morning, I took in some lodgers, five in all.' Jim smiled. ‘Potters, they are, come down from up the North of England.' He paused. ‘Seems there are too many potters up there and not enough jobs.'

‘Well I don't know, Jim, we have stocks enough of pots, pots that no-one wants. Morton-Edwards has taken our markets from us.'

‘I know, but these men, they've brought with them new methods, more up-to-date than our own. Now we have access along the row again why not make one last stab at it? The folks of Swansea will jump at the chance of good solid tableware, I'll bet on it.'

Lloyd felt his pulse run fast with hope. ‘Will these men defect to that bastard Morton-Edwards, though?'

Jim shook his head. ‘Not after what I've told them about the man. We have the beginnings of a good band of workers and in any case some of our old workers are ready to come back to us; Morton-Edwards is paying them less than you did.'

He looked at Lloyd, waiting for his reply. Lloyd smiled.

‘It's certainly worth a try.' He glanced up at Jim. ‘Well done, Jim! We'll beat the old sod yet.'

Jim's face was shining with satisfaction. ‘I've passed the word on in town that we need more workers, it won't matter if they're unskilled, they'll be useful for the wedging and the fetching and carrying.'

‘Sit down, Jim, have a glass of porter. I think we should talk about a rise, it's about time I appreciated you.'

Jim waited until Lloyd poured the drinks and then he leaned forward in his chair, his big arms resting on his knees.

‘These Staffordshire potters, they've brought some of the patterns with them. One of them was designing up in England, worked at several manufactories, all over the place, real experienced he is. He says there's a good china paste that will not fracture in the oven and it's more delicate than the rough earthenware we're making now. Perhaps we should experiment with it.'

‘Make better porcelain than Morton-Edwards, my Lord, that would be something!' Lloyd said. ‘Beat the man at his own game. I wonder if we could pull it off?'

‘We could if we could stop production at the Tawe Pottery for a week or so,' Jim said. ‘We'd be in there, getting all the orders from the big houses. We could approach the inns in the area, the better ones are ripe for some new china.'

‘Yes, that would work if only we could find a way . . .'

‘What if I was to dam up the river?' Jim broke in excitedly. ‘It's high tide soon and the rains are coming if I'm any judge. As the Tawe Pottery is on the lower slope of the hill, we could flood the place, easy enough. It would do no lasting harm but it would sure as hell delay things a bit.'