Paradise Park (34 page)

He took her hand. ‘Thank you, Mrs Morton-Edwards. I'll set off for Swansea this very day and I'll get Jayne away from Dafydd, don't you worry about that.'

He got to his feet and Llinos looked up at him. ‘Good luck, Mr Fairchild,' she said. He gave a little bow, then walked across the grass and into Rose Mount House without glancing back.

Llinos sighed. Now she would have to go back to Eynon – he would be wondering where she'd gone.

He was sitting on the sea wall outside the hotel and in the evening sun his pale hair gleamed like gold. His face brightened as he saw her approaching.

‘Where has my lovely wife been, then?' He rose to greet her. ‘I was getting quite worried.'

‘No need to worry about me,' Llinos said. ‘I'm well able to take care of myself.'

He took her hands in his. ‘Yes but you're a lovely woman and you shouldn't be out alone. It isn't proper.'

Llinos smiled. ‘When have I ever done what's proper?' She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘Come into the hotel and get us both a drink. I think we're going to need it.'

She slipped her arm through his. It was not going to be easy to tell Eynon her real purpose in coming to Cornwall.

Once inside the hotel, seated on one of the large, comfortable sofas with two glasses of brandy on the table before them, Llinos took his hand. ‘I brought you here under false pretences,' she said. ‘I came here to find Guy Fairchild and to tell him the truth about Jayne's decision to stay with Dafydd.'

Eynon frowned but said nothing. Llinos swallowed and looked down at her fingers, held in Eynon's warm hand. ‘Guy is going back to Swansea straight away. He's going to do what we couldn't do and rescue Jayne from the prison where Dafydd's keeping her.'

‘I think I guessed as much,' Eynon said, his voice low. ‘And you never do anything without giving it a great deal of thought.'

‘You're not angry with me?'

He bent and kissed her lips. ‘I'm sad you didn't confide in me before, but I understand that you wanted to help Jayne get away from Buchan.'

Llinos leaned into his shoulder. ‘You know something, Eynon?' She glanced up at him.

‘What?'

‘I love you very much indeed.'

‘That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Llinos Morton-Edwards.' And then, regardless of the other people in the hotel foyer, he bent down and kissed her.

AS THE CAB
drew up outside her father's elegant home Jayne glanced behind her, worrying even now that Dafydd was following her and would take her back to her prison.

She pushed open the arched front door and stepped into the hall, breathing in the scent of beeswax, admiring the fine curve of the staircase. She had come home. She felt almost faint with relief as she closed the door behind her.

A steward she didn't recognize came into the hall. ‘Is Mr Morton-Edwards at home?' Jayne asked, pulling off her gloves finger by finger, impatient with the man for staring at her as though she was an intruder.

‘Might I ask who is enquiring, madam?'

‘I am Mr Morton-Edwards's daughter. What is your name?'

‘I'm Saunders, madam, and forgive me for being forward but how do I know you are Mr Morton-Edwards's daughter? He left no instructions that we were to expect you.'

‘My word is good enough! Now, ask someone to take my boxes upstairs and have the maids prepare a room for me. Any of them will confirm my identity. Where is my father? Why isn't he here?'

‘He and Mrs Morton-Edwards are taking a short holiday.' The man divulged the information as though it was being dragged from him. ‘I'm in charge of things here, madam, and I need proof of your identity.'

‘All you need is my word,' Jayne said, in a dangerously quiet voice. The man stared at her for a long moment. ‘I need my room
now
.'

‘I'm sorry, madam, but I was instructed to take care of things while the master was away and I was not prepared for a visitor.'

‘Well, I'm here now and you can take your orders from me. Otherwise you may pack your bags and leave. Is that understood, Saunders?'

‘Very well, madam.'

‘You may call me Mrs Buchan,' she said, ‘and, Saunders, ask a maid to bring me a hot drink.'

The man bowed and departed, and Jayne went across the hall and into the drawing room, feeling betrayed that her father was away. It was as if no one in the world cared about her – but that was absurd. Her father had been trying to bring her home ever since his wedding day. He had quarrelled with Dafydd, even threatened violence, but none of it had moved Dafydd to mercy.

Then a thought struck her. She rang the bell and Saunders appeared at once, as though he'd been waiting outside the door expecting her to run off with the family silver. ‘Where has Mr Morton-Edwards gone?' she asked.

‘I believe the master is holidaying in the West Country, Cornwall – that's it, Cornwall.' He spoke as if Cornwall was the back of beyond where all sorts of unmentionable things might happen.

Jayne bit her lip. Guy had gone to Cornwall. Was that a coincidence or was her father trying to find him for her? ‘When is he coming back?'

‘I believe he's expected this afternoon, madam.'

‘Very well, you may go,' Jayne said shortly.

She looked around her at the familiar room. It was strange but wonderful, too, to be back in her father's house. The rooms seemed bright and sunny after the grim surroundings of the grey stone building where Dafydd had kept her prisoner.

She wandered to the window and stared out at the spacious gardens, not seeing the overhang of trees or the elegant statues lining the drive. She was imagining herself and Guy locked in a passionate embrace.

Their meetings had been so transient that perhaps she'd imagined he loved her. It might be that he had found another lady by now. Men were fickle: she'd learned that from her husband.

Bull sat in the high seat with two other magistrates overlooking the chamber where the court was in session and stared at the poor wretch standing before him. The man was accused of stealing a pig from a neighbour. It seemed he had killed it, cooked it and eaten the evidence. As he stared at the thin, ragged man Bull couldn't find it in him to condemn him. The only evidence presented to the court was a set of pig's trotters, and the word of the pig's owner. For Bull that was not enough to condemn a man to prison.

He listened to the drone of the accused man's voice: he was attempting to explain that he didn't like pork, and Bull could have laughed, if it hadn't been for the terrified look on the fellow's face.

Bull was getting accustomed to sitting in judgement at the petty sessions and most of the cases, like this one, were of a trivial nature. One man had been accused of selling his wife but the woman was such a shrew that Bull would have given her away if she'd been his wife.

Occasionally he witnessed real tragedy in the courthouse and found it hard to deal with. One such case involved a man accused of murdering his child for money, and Bull had spent days deliberating, trying to stem his anger when his gut instinct told him the man was guilty.

Another case that worried him was that Tom, Seth Cullen's uncle, had been accused of stealing money from the Paradise Park Hotel. The evidence was so trivial that, although he believed the man was guilty, Bull dismissed the case.

He became aware that the court had fallen silent now. The man before him hung his head waiting for Bull, the bench spokesman, to decide his fate.

‘Because of the lack of witnesses in this case, but taking into consideration the loss of a pig to the farmer, I have decided that the accused work a week without payment on his neighbour's farm.' Bull stood up, indicating that the session was over, and went into his room at the back of the court. He took off his robes and hung them up, feeling he would rather do a good day's work on the railway than sit in judgement on poor folk who had little or nothing to live on.

Outside in the street he took a deep breath of fresh air and began to walk in the direction of the beach. He felt he needed to breathe the clean sea air and settle his mind before starting on the draft report he was writing for one of the railway engineers.

As he turned the corner he came face to face with Rhiannon. His heart lifted at the sight of her: she was neatly dressed, her hair pinned up under a fashionable hat, and the warm colour in her face told him she was happy to see him. ‘Rhiannon, I'm glad to see you looking so well and prosperous – I hardly recognize you, these days.' He took her hand and gazed into her dark eyes. She was so beautiful, so breathtakingly lovely, that he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close to him.

‘And you, Bull, so posh I'm half afraid to speak to you.'

He looked down at his finely cut coat. ‘I don't look like this when I'm working on the railway, as well you know.' He realized he was still holding her hand and released it reluctantly. ‘I'm going to the beach, will you walk with me a little way?'

Rhiannon hesitated, then nodded. ‘I'd like that, Bull. I feel in need of a rest from the hotel and a little time off won't hurt.'

They walked in silence and Bull could imagine how they looked: a pair of well-dressed citizens out on a morning stroll as though there was nothing better to do. How different they looked from what they had once been.

‘I know what you're thinking.' Rhiannon said softly.

He looked down at her. ‘How?'

‘I'm thinking the same thing as you. I'm remembering the old days when we didn't have much money and were so happy and content with our lives. I would love to go back to those days, if only for an hour.'

Bull was silent. He didn't want Rhiannon to entertain any false hopes about their relationship. What they'd once shared was gone: it had happened in a different lifetime, before he met Katie. At the thought of his beloved wife, a great sadness came over him; he could never replace her.

‘Isn't that what you were thinking, Bull? What good times we enjoyed when we were together?'

Her soft voice held such entreaty that Bull relented. ‘Yes, but we can't resurrect the past, can we?'

‘I suppose you're right.'

If there was an edge of disappointment in her voice he chose to ignore it. ‘Still, everything is going well for you now, isn't it?'

‘Oh, yes, the hotel is doing well, we have families coming to stay, and I can see that the Paradise Park will be the best hotel in Swansea one day.'

He saw her glance up at him and resisted the urge to meet her eyes.

‘I've even got a follower, a respectable man, a doctor. He's new in the area and needs to build up a practice. He and I have an arrangement. He treats the guests in the hotel should they fall sick, and that helps both of us.'

Bull digested her words in silence: it unsettled him to think of another man in Rhiannon's life. He swallowed his feelings and made an attempt to speak lightly. ‘Well, that's good, then, isn't it?'

‘Is it, Bull? Do you really want me to find another man?'

‘I suppose it's inevitable. You're a beautiful woman and you're bound to marry one day. Naturally I'd like to see you settled and happy.'

‘And what about you, Bull? Will you ever marry again?'

‘No!' he said emphatically. ‘I can never put another woman in Katie's place. It just wouldn't be right.'

‘But, Bull, Katie would never have wanted you to be alone for the rest of your life. And although you can never put another woman in her place you can love again. It's not impossible.'

‘It is for me.' Bull spoke quietly trying to stifle the wash of hot tears that rose to his eyes.

‘Oh, Bull!' Rhiannon drew him into the shelter of the trees that fringed the beach. ‘Bull, I hate to see you hurting.' She put her arms around him and held him close, patting his back as if he was a child. ‘It's only natural to mourn Katie and the baby. You loved them very much and I know that better than anyone.' She looked into his eyes. ‘But you have to think about the future. I know it's trite to say it, but time heals everything. You'll never forget your love for Katie, no one would expect you to, but you must put aside your grief now. Mingle with the gentry – their doors are wide open to you. Go to the assembly rooms and enjoy the company of other respectable citizens. Attend the theatre, take one of the fine ladies you meet now to one of the posh balls. Start living again, Bull.'

He knew what it had cost her to say those words. She was letting him know that she was far below him socially and that she felt she had no place in the life he'd forged for himself. ‘I'm sure everything you say is wise and right,' he said slowly, ‘and perhaps I'll take your advice and try to be a bit more sociable.'

‘I've got to go,' Rhiannon said. ‘Will you be all right, Bull?'

‘Yes, of course. Don't worry about me.' He watched her walk away, a slim, beautiful woman, and he experienced a tremendous urge to be with her, to lay her down on a soft bed and make passionate love to her. Immediately he was ashamed of the thought: he loved Katie, gentle, sweet Katie, his darling wife, how could he even think of giving his love to another woman?

He glanced along the beach, hoping for a last glimpse of Rhiannon, but the golden sands were empty of people; only the seagulls kept him company and their cry was mournful as they circled the air. Bull began to walk at a fast pace back to the town.

Jayne was sitting at the dining-table, having barely touched her meal, when she heard the rattle of wheels on the forecourt outside. She threw down her napkin and hurried to the window, her heart pounding with fear. Had Dafydd changed his mind? Was he outside even now, determined to return her to the prison he'd made for her?

Relief flooded through her as she heard her father's voice then saw him alight from the cab and turn to give his hand to Llinos.