Paradise Park (11 page)

Dafydd had a way of picking on her weak points: he was stating the truth but in a way that put her in the wrong. Jayne sighed but she said nothing. He was right, after all: her temper had cost her several good servants.

Dafydd sank into a chair and stared at her. His direct gaze was unnerving and Jayne forced herself to stay calm. ‘If you have something to say then say it,' she said evenly. ‘Don't look at me as though I was less than dirt beneath your feet.'

‘I was just wondering what Guy sees in you,' he remarked.

Jayne's heart began to pound.

‘He certainly admires you. He's always talking about your beauty and your business acumen.'

‘Well, isn't it nice to be admired by someone?' She tried to sound offhand but Dafydd had wrongfooted her again. ‘I certainly don't get any admiration from my husband.'

Dafydd laughed. ‘Husband! That's a fine word to use for a man you don't sleep with and don't even like.'

Jayne turned away from him, tired of the argument and of going over the same ground again and again. Their quarrels always followed the same pattern: he would goad her until she was almost incoherent with rage, then tear into her.

‘You should be ashamed to call yourself a married woman,' he went on relentlessly. ‘You're nothing more than a glorified housekeeper, except that some lucky men sleep with the housekeeper.' He laughed. ‘And our Rhiannon is very beautiful and very experienced. Do you think I should take advantage of that?'

Jayne looked at him with disgust. ‘Whatever I say you'll twist it to your own advantage so I'll keep quiet.'

‘So you're not going to defend your little whore's honour?'

Jayne shook her head. ‘Do your worst but for what it's worth I don't think you'll get very far with her. She has changed. She's more of a lady than half the women you go out with.'

‘Fighting talk, eh? Well, I might just take up your challenge.'

‘It wasn't a challenge, Dafydd. I was just stating the facts. Now, do you mind if we drop this? I have more important things to do than to listen to your vile talk.'

She got to her feet and left the room to the sound of Dafydd's laughter. Sometimes she felt she could kill him. She walked for a time in the garden, trying to cool her temper. She hoped from the bottom of her heart that Rhiannon
had
changed, but she wasn't sure how able the girl would be to resist the wiles of her master. Well, she would doubtless find out if Dafydd had meant what he said about seducing her.

At least Guy liked and admired her: he thought her beautiful and clever. What a pity she hadn't met him before she married Dafydd. Everything might have been so different.

Dafydd poured himself some more port, and stared into the glass. Damn Jayne and damn her self-righteousness! She always left him feeling he'd been bested. Still he'd rattled her when he'd mentioned Rhiannon's good looks; he'd been half joking when he said he'd like to seduce her but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it would be an ideal way to get back at his wife. Not only would he be bedding a desirable woman but he would blow a hole right through Jayne's attempt to rescue a fallen woman.

Rhiannon would present a challenge. These days, the girl went about her business quietly and with dignity. No one would ever guess she had once been a shanty-town woman living with any navvy who gave her bed and board in exchange for her favours.

He rang the bell for the maid and Sal came into the room, bobbing a curtsy. She was neatly dressed with a crisp white apron over her black dress. She had light golden hair and would be a beauty one day. He could not help feeling sorry for the child. If Jayne had achieved anything worthwhile it was in rescuing this little girl. ‘How are you getting on here, Sal?' he asked. ‘Are you settling in?'

She seemed taken aback by his question and moved from one foot to the other nervously. ‘I like it very much, sir,' she said, in a small voice.

‘And are you learning about the ways of a respectable household?' he asked.

She looked around as though seeking escape.

‘It's all right, Sal, I'm not going to harm you. I'm just interested in hearing your views. Do you get on with Mrs Buchan?'

Sal seemed to warm to him. Her eyes shone and she clasped her hands together. ‘Mrs Buchan's that good to me, sir.' Her voice had lost its nervousness. ‘She's learned me so many things.'

‘Taught you, Sal, she's taught you. Anyway, what sort of things?'

‘How to tell good linen from bad, how to lay a table properly, and she's even got me learning to read a bit.'

‘Excellent. And what about Rhiannon, is she happy here too?'

‘Oh, yes, sir. She's really clever, is Rhiannon, she can do anything Mrs Buchan asks her to do, even the household accounts. These days, we never run out of necessities.'

‘Good. Now, Sal, I want you to send Rhiannon to me. I'd like to make sure she's doing everything properly.'

‘Oh, she is, sir, really she is.'

‘That will be all, Sal, and keep up the good work with the reading and writing. A bit of education will stand you in good stead in the future.'

He watched as the girl went towards the door. For a moment he felt nothing but admiration for Jayne and for what she was trying to achieve.

When Rhiannon came into the room she wore an expression of surprise. It was not often that she was called on to have dealings with the master of the house. ‘Yes, sir?' She dipped in a graceful curtsy. ‘Sal said you wanted to see me.'

‘That's right, Rhiannon.' He studied her: she looked ladylike in her good clothes, with the keys of the house hanging at her waist. The silky material of her gown did little to conceal the generous thrust of her breasts. She put up her hand to her throat, evidently noting his scrutiny. He smiled. ‘I've had a chat with little Sal and she seems happy here. How about you, Rhiannon? Any complaints?'

‘None, sir,' Rhiannon said gravely. ‘I'm very happy with the job Mrs Buchan has seen fit to trust me with.'

‘I can see that a rise from whoredom to housekeeper is quite a leap, but don't you miss your old way of life sometimes?'

‘I don't even like to think about it now, sir,' Rhiannon said, and there was a sharpness in her tone that he did not miss. ‘It was a dreadful way of life, and I'm glad it's all in my past now.'

Dafydd knew he was being rebuked, and deservedly so. ‘And your mistress, Mrs Buchan, does she treat you well?'

He saw her face soften a little and realized she was fond of Jayne too. It was going to be more difficult than he had thought to seduce her.

‘Oh, yes, sir. Mrs Buchan treats me very well – I can never repay her for what she's done for me.'

‘And what is that, exactly? A good bed to sleep in, food to put in your stomach and clothes to put on your back, is that worth giving up your life of variety and enjoyment for?'

‘Most emphatically so, sir. What I appreciate more than anything is that Mrs Buchan has given me back my self-respect.'

He could see she would need careful handling: this girl was intelligent as well as beautiful.

‘May I go now, sir?' She stood still, her large eyes assessing him with age-old wisdom.

‘Yes, of course you may. I don't want to keep you from your duties.' He watched as she walked gracefully to the door, her head high. In spite of his attempts to humble her she had kept her dignity.

‘One more thing, Rhiannon,' he said easily. ‘Mr Fairchild and Mrs Buchan are good friends, are they not?'

She gave him a bleak look. ‘I wouldn't know anything about that, Mr Buchan. I suggest you ask Madam yourself.'

Dafydd smiled. She had guts all right. She was also loyal to Jayne, and that would be the biggest hurdle to overcome if he wanted the girl in his bed. Still, Dafydd Buchan had never been frightened of taking up a challenge and this was one to which he was positively looking forward.

LLINOS SHIVERED,
FEELING
the cold even though all the fires in the house were blazing. The chill of autumn was in the air, and before she knew it Christmas would be upon her. She would be spending it alone.

She picked up the letter from Sion, her younger son, who was away at school. He wanted to stay with a friend over the holidays and Llinos could not blame him. The pottery house was quiet these days, and even though the kilns outside sent waves of heat into the leaden sky and apprentices called cheerily to each other in the yard there was an emptiness in the old house that Llinos could not fill. It was at times like this that she missed Joe most: her husband had been loving, full of arcane wisdom learned during his childhood with the American Indians and she had loved him deeply.

She stood at the window and looked out at the gathering gloom. On an impulse, she rang for the maid. She would have her carriage brought round and visit Eynon – he never minded her arriving unannounced.

As she left the house, a chill wind whipped around her ankles. She climbed into the carriage and hugged her collar close to her face. She hoped that Eynon would be at home: she needed warmth and company, and in that moment she knew that if he asked her again to marry him she might be tempted to say yes.

As she'd expected, Eynon welcomed her warmly. ‘Come in, Llinos. Father Martin's here and he'll be glad to see you too.' He hugged her and she clung to him. ‘But not half as glad as I am,' he added softly.

‘Thank you for putting up with me, Eynon. I know it's not polite to arrive on your doorstep like this.'

‘Nonsense! You are my dearest friend and my house is open to you at any time of the day or night.'

Father Martin was seated before the fire, his legs spread apart, his lap full of apple peelings. He looked up at her apologetically. ‘Forgive me if I don't get up, Llinos, but I don't want to make a mess on Eynon's good carpet.'

Llinos kissed his round cheek.

Eynon led her to the armchair at the other side of the huge fireplace and held her hand as she sat down. The room was cheerful and comfortable; the marble mantelpiece gleamed and the logs burning in the grate sent out a pleasant aroma. ‘I'll get you a hot toddy, Llinos,' Eynon said. ‘You look frozen.'

A silver jug of hot water and a bowl of sugar stood on the table. Eynon mixed brandy, sugar and water in a glass and stirred it vigorously. Llinos felt cosseted as he handed it to her then kissed her hair. She was warmed by Eynon's love for her but could she marry him? Her life would be changed dramatically and for ever: she would have to move from her home for a start, and she'd lived there as a child and as a woman. The house had seen the birth of her two sons, Lloyd and Sion. It was there that her dear Joe had breathed his last. The house held a thousand memories, some good, some less so. Perhaps it would be no bad thing to leave it all behind, and there was always her dear friend and partner Watt Bevan to look after the china factory. He had been with her for many years and knew the business as well as she did.

‘Have you heard any gossip about Jayne, Llinos?' Eynon's voice broke into her thoughts.

‘Gossip?'

‘Well, there's been talk because she's employed girls of dubious character but now people are saying she's seeing too much of this London chap, Guy Fairchild. I'm worried it will get out of hand.'

‘I've heard nothing untoward. Surely you don't think there's anything to worry about? Jayne is such a stickler for convention.'

‘I'm worried about her. I know she's not happy with Buchan. It was the biggest mistake of her life when she married the man. I did warn her but she wouldn't listen to a word I said.'

‘Eynon, I'm the wrong one to talk to about this.' Llinos stared at him, her brow furrowed. ‘I bore Dafydd a son so I can hardly say a word against him.'

‘Will you at least concede that he has changed?' Eynon was determined to pursue the subject. ‘He has become tight-fisted and grasping, and all he thinks of is getting his hands on Great Western shares.'

‘Do you think that Dafydd is treating Jayne badly, then?' Llinos asked. ‘If so, she is more than a match for him, believe me.'

Eynon nodded. ‘I know you're right, but the marriage is a sham. They don't sleep together so they will never have children and I will never be a grandfather.' He paused. ‘Now there's a story going around that Jayne and this London man are lovers.'

‘Oh, I don't believe that for a minute,' Llinos said, ‘and you know what the townsfolk are like. Soon they will get tired of picking on Jayne and find another poor soul to gossip about.'

‘Well, I hope you're right. I don't like to see Jayne so unhappy with Buchan, but for all that I can't see her allowing herself to be taken in by this man, who might be after her fortune for all we know.'

Father Martin coughed, reminding them of his presence. ‘For goodness' sake, stop fussing about what Jayne might or might not do. She's her own woman, and she'll please herself whatever you say or do.'

‘Quite right,' Eynon said. ‘Now, who's for another drink?'

Jayne sat in the tearooms of the Mackworth Hotel and smiled across the table at Guy. As she was concerned about appearances she'd brought Rhiannon with her. The girl was sitting with her hands folded in her lap and her head high as if she was used to grand company. She would fit into any society, Jayne thought. She was beautiful too – so beautiful that she had hesitated to bring her along as chaperone, but she needn't have worried: Guy's attention was firmly fixed on herself.

‘So, Jayne,' Guy let his hand brush hers as he reached for the sugar, ‘are your shares still rising?'

Jayne knew that this inconsequential talk was for Rhiannon's benefit: had they been alone, Guy would have been telling her how much he admired her, and how she was wasted on Dafydd Buchan.