Paradise Park (28 page)

‘I'll go tomorrow. I won't warn him that I'm coming – I think it's best to take him by surprise.'

Eynon touched her cheek. ‘You're sure it won't be too upsetting for you?'

‘Believe me, anything I once felt for Dafydd died a long time ago. Now all I see when I look at him is a man who must have his own way whatever anyone feels or thinks.'

Llinos sat in a chair near the window and stared out at the pewter grey sea below her. White water lashed up against the rocks. It was a gloomy day, full of wind and rain, and reflected Llinos's feelings. The prospect of trying to persuade Dafydd to let Jayne go was not one she relished. But it had to be done and, in all truth, she was the best person to do it.

The first guest to inhabit a room at the Paradise Park was a Mr Summers. He was young and vigorous, with dark hair and flashing eyes, the type some women might find attractive. To Rhiannon, though, he was simply a sign that the enterprise was going to succeed, that the Paradise Park was on its way to being a thriving business.

‘I think Mr Summers intends to stay here every time he visits Swansea.' Mrs Paisley was sitting in Rhiannon's room, toasting her feet beside the fire. ‘More of his kind is what we need.'

‘Well, this is where your famous word-of-mouth will come in handy,' Rhiannon said, ‘and where my idea of advertising is reaping rewards.' She held up a letter. ‘This is from a Mr Clements. He's a chemist thinking of setting up a practice in the area and he's bringing his family with him this afternoon. As he has four children, that's several more rooms to be occupied. Soon we'll be looking at a full hotel. You'll see, Mrs Paisley, before long we'll be making a good living for ourselves.'

‘Just as well there'll be some money coming in because there's a devil of a lot going out,' Mrs Paisley said drily.

‘We needed to advertise our hotel, though, you can see that now, can't you?' Rhiannon asked anxiously, and was relieved when Mrs Paisley nodded.

‘Aye, it had to be done, girl. You go on now and see to the paperwork because I'm going to have a nap.' She smiled wickedly. ‘All this making a go of things has tired me.'

When Mrs Paisley had left the room Rhiannon stood at the window, looking at the busy street outside, where traders cried their wares in raucous tones. This was the town she had become used to: in her days as a whore she had walked the length of it, the back-streets as well as the main streets where elegant shops opened their doors to the rich and influential. Well, perhaps soon she would be rich herself, although she could never be influential. The gentry would never allow a whore into their closed circle.

She glanced along the street and her heartbeat quickened: Bull was walking past the Paradise Park, his head bent as he listened to his companion, a man several inches shorter than he was. Rhiannon watched him hungrily, drinking in the dark crispness of his hair beneath his hat and remembering how many times she had run her fingers through it as they made love.

Bull glanced up in her direction and their eyes met. After a moment, he raised his hat to her, and then he was gone from her sight, lost in the mêlée of the busy roadway.

Mentally, Rhiannon shook herself. There was work to be done: she needed to bring the books up to date, send out letters to people enquiring about rooms. ‘Standing here staring into the street won't get the work done,' she said aloud.

A knock on the door startled her. ‘Come in.'

‘Oh, Rhiannon,
cariad
, I don't want to disturb you but I've got to know how many folk want dinner tonight.'

‘Mrs Jones, come in and sit down. Now, let me see, there'll be Mr Clements and his family, Mr Summers and, of course, Mrs Paisley. I'll eat with you and Sal in the kitchen.' Mrs Jones frowned, and Rhiannon hid a smile. ‘I'll dine with the guests when I'm more used to things, but for now Mrs Paisley will do the honours. Tell me what sort of menu you're planning for tonight.'

‘We'll have soup to start and a nice bit of poached salmon to follow.' Mrs Jones crossed her meaty arms over her chest. ‘Sal fetched us a fine bit of beef for the main course and I'm going to stuff that with oysters.'

Rhiannon nodded, grateful that the cook was experienced enough to make a meal fit for the gentry, let alone travelling businessmen and their families. ‘And to follow?'

‘Apples stuffed with cream, and chopped peaches served with a good thick custard. How does that sound?'

‘Wonderful. You're a treasure, Mrs Jones.'

‘It's easy to be a treasure when there's plenty of money to go round, but I'm proud to say this dinner is economical to make. I bought a cheap cut of beef and I'll cook it real slow. As for the fish, I got it for nothing.'

‘How did that happen?'

Mrs Jones laughed. ‘Not because of my charm,
cariad
, I'm too old for that sort of caper. No, I did a favour for the fishmonger's wife, cooked four chickens for her in that lovely big oven we got in the kitchen.' She paused. ‘I know we have to go careful for a while so I'm looking for any way I can find to cut costs.' She squared her shoulders. ‘But I can't stand here gossiping all day, I've got work to do.'

On an impulse Rhiannon hugged her. ‘I don't know what I'd do without you.'

Mrs Jones brushed a hand over her eyes. ‘Don't talk daft. If it wasn't for you I'd be on the streets.'

As the door closed behind Mrs Jones, Rhiannon went to stand in the window again. She hardly saw the traffic, or heard the calls of the street vendors. She was hoping for another glimpse of Bull Beynon.

‘So he's sent you now, has he?' Dafydd Buchan stood looking at Llinos, the woman he had loved so dearly, lost to him now because of Morton-Edwards – curse him! Why did the women in his life turn to other men?

‘No one sent me!' Llinos said, her eyes alight with anger. ‘You should know me better than that. I came of my own accord.'

‘All right, but for heaven's sake, sit down. Don't stand there glowering as if you want to stick a knife in my heart.'

Llinos sat down. ‘I don't want to quarrel with you, Dafydd, I just want to be sure that Jayne is all right.'

‘Of course she is. How is my son?' Dafydd saw Llinos frown. ‘There's nothing wrong, is there? Sion is well, isn't he?'

‘He is well and happy.' She looked up at him and her beautiful eyes were filled with tears. ‘But he would rather be with his friends than with his mother.' She shrugged. ‘I suppose that's natural.'

Dafydd sat beside her, taking her hands in his. ‘What the boy needs is a fatherly hand to guide him.' He felt a flicker of anger as Llinos took her hands away.

‘The only father Sion knew is dead and buried. Don't try to have a part in his life now, it's far too late for that.' She sat up straight. ‘I would very much like to see Jayne.'

Dafydd sighed. He could never refuse Llinos anything – not when she looked up at him so earnestly with those wonderful eyes.

‘You can go up to her room,' he stood up reluctantly, ‘but I'll have to lock you in. You can ring the bell when you want to leave.'

Llinos looked at him and he could read the scorn in her eyes. ‘Is that the only way you can keep a woman these days, Dafydd?'

‘Don't interfere in my business, Llinos. No one is allowed to do that, not even you.' He felt ashamed but he would never let Llinos know that. ‘This is a favour I'm doing you, and please don't get any foolish ideas about helping Jayne escape because you'll both be closely watched.'

He walked up the stairs ahead of her but on the landing he paused. ‘I was cuckolded by my dear wife. Do you think any man could take such betrayal and not be bitter?'

Llinos didn't reply and Dafydd unlocked the door and let her in to the room that had been his wife's prison for more than a week. He locked it again, went back downstairs and stood, hands thrust into his pockets, wondering to what depths he had sunk in imprisoning a woman who despised him.

He took a deep breath. Jayne had brought it all upon herself. It was only right that she suffered for what she had done. It made his blood boil to think of her in Guy Fairchild's arms. Fairchild would marry someone else now and then Jayne would learn what loneliness and betrayal meant.

Dinner was turning out to be a jolly occasion and Rhiannon, her dark hair tied up in a knot, helped to serve it. She was able to observe the guests seated around the long table and knew they were enjoying a hearty meal in pleasant company.

Mrs Paisley came into her own when guests were present and kept them amused with stories about the days when she was young. Her easy manner encouraged laughter and even Mr Summers, who at first kept his distance, was drawn to speak about his travels.

Once back in the kitchen, Rhiannon sank into a chair. Mrs Jones looked at her and smiled. ‘Worn out, are you, love?'

‘Yes, but I'm contented too. You're to be congratulated on providing a dinner fit for a king, Mrs Jones.'

‘Well, there's praise indeed!' The cook was flushed with pleasure. ‘It's nice to have a pat on the back now and again. That's something the gentry don't realize.' She looked up as Sal came into the kitchen with a tray full of dishes. ‘You can leave those until later, Sal. Come and sit down and we'll all have a nip of the sherry, shall we?'

Rhiannon smiled her approval. ‘That sounds like a very good idea. I think we've worked our fingers to the bone tonight. Soon we'll need more staff, we can't go on doing everything ourselves.'

‘Vi and Hetty are out of a job.' Sal placed the dishes on the side of the sink and sank into a chair. ‘Seems they were dismissed soon after us.'

‘I wouldn't want that Hetty round here,' Mrs Jones said. ‘Tongue like a viper that girl's got.'

‘Oh, go on, she's not that bad,' Sal protested.

Rhiannon poured the sherry into three glasses and handed them round. The dishes could wait. Most of the upstairs work was done and the guests would be retiring to their rooms before long. She supposed the beds should be turned down but even that could wait while she drank some of the amber liquid. It was warm and comfortable in the kitchen and everyone deserved a respite before getting back to work again.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to employ Hetty and Violet, she thought. They knew the way Mrs Jones liked to organize her cooking, they had both shopped for the best cuts of meat, they were bright girls and, most of the time, good workers.

‘You're quiet, Rhiannon.' Sal held her small feet close to the fire, her thin legs protruding from under her skirts, and Rhiannon felt a wave of pity for the girl. The last few weeks had been hard on her. Still, now that she was in a good job and had good food to put in her belly, Sal would soon blossom again.

‘It's not a bad idea of yours to bring in Hetty and Vi. I'm sure they'll both work harder than ever now that they know what being out of work feels like. Do you think they'd like a job in a hotel, Sal?'

‘They'd jump at the chance!' Sal smiled. ‘So long as the pair of them keeps their eyes off my Seth we'll get on just fine.'

‘Oh, he's your Seth now, is he?' Rhiannon said teasingly.

Sal blushed. ‘Well, he seems to like me and he doesn't care anything about my past.'

‘Well, good luck to the pair of you.' Mrs Jones heaved herself out of her chair. ‘He'll be getting a good one if he gets you, my girl. Now, come on, Sal, me and you will do the dishes, let Rhiannon rest a bit.'

‘Why should I be allowed to rest?' Rhiannon asked.

‘Well, you got to do more paperwork and you're running the hotel. I don't see it fair you should be a kitchenmaid as well.'

‘All right. I'll go and turn down the beds.' Rhiannon got to her feet and stood at the door for a moment watching Sal pile dishes into the sink. The aroma in the kitchen was a mingling of sweet and savoury smells, the fire crackled cheerfully in the big hearth and all was peace and harmony.

Rhiannon crossed her fingers for luck and, for good measure, sent up a silent prayer that all the good things would continue. She'd seen enough bad things to last her a lifetime.

JAYNE SAT QUIETLY
in her room, a feeling of resignation washing over her. She had tried to get away from Dafydd, she had pleaded with him, threatened him and even attempted to bribe him, but he wouldn't budge an inch. It seemed she was doomed to spend the rest of her life in captivity. Not even a visit from Llinos had changed his mind.

Her father had called – more than once she had heard his angry voice in the hall – but Dafydd had always denied him entrance. He was not even allowed to see Jayne, let alone speak to her. ‘Please, Father, bring some men and get me out of here,' Jayne whispered, under her breath.

Now the ringing of the doorbell vibrated through the house and Jayne lifted her head, wondering if her prayers were about to be answered. She hurried to the door and pressed her ear against the keyhole. Had her father arrived with a band of men to demand her release? Perhaps she might even dare to hope that Guy had come back for her. But, then, Guy thought she no longer loved him: he had gone away thinking she wanted to be with Dafydd.

She backed across the room as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The key turned in the lock and the door swung open. Jayne tried to hide her disappointment as Llinos came into the room.

‘Jayne, Dafydd's given me permission to visit you again.'

Jayne held out her arms. ‘It's good to see a friendly face.' She kissed Llinos's cheek. ‘Is he letting me out of here?'

Llinos smoothed back Jayne's tangled hair. ‘I don't know.' She looked troubled. ‘He wasn't easily persuaded to let me in.'

‘Oh, I see.' Jayne sank onto the bed and gestured for Llinos to take the plush armchair near the fire. ‘But, then, Dafydd would never refuse you anything.'