Sinners and Shadows (15 page)

‘I've had to buy my clothes … my …'

Loath to listen to more of her brother's excuses, Sali left the table. ‘It would be embarrassing for the trustees and me if you force us to serve an eviction notice on you, but we will if we have to. Please, be out by the end of the month.'

‘And if I can't find anywhere?'

‘Mrs Jenkins at the lodge has a spare room.'

‘You expect me to move into the lodge!' Geraint was horrified by the thought.

‘It's clean and it's comfortable.'

‘It doesn't even have an inside bathroom.'

‘No, but the spare bedroom has a washstand. Mrs Jenkins charges seventeen shillings and sixpence a week for accommodation, breakfast, supper and personal laundry. If you don't move in voluntarily, I will arrange to have your things taken over there on the last day of this month. You will have to be out by then because a builder is coming in on the first of next month to carry out repairs to the chimney and annex roof. Should you find somewhere else before then, I would appreciate it if you would let me know, so I can give Mrs Andrews notice.'

‘Believe you me, I'll do my best to find something better than the lodge.'

Hurt by his ingratitude as much as his anger, Sali drew comfort from the thought of Lloyd and his family's love and support when she returned to the main house. They had helped her to see her brother for what he was: a snobbish, discontented man, hopelessly shackled by bitter resentment. Their uncle had not only lost Geraint's money but also destroyed his integrity and self-respect.

Geraint hated having to work in the store. He hated being subservient to Mr Horton, he hated having to be polite to people he regarded as beneath him, and he hated being beholden to Harry's trustees for the roof over his head. Yet he continued to remain sunk in the rut he had fallen into, making no effort to move out or find a position more suited to a man of his education and intelligence.

Their father had made great plans for all of them when they'd been children. When he'd been alive, Geraint had been interested in the collieries their grandfather had sunk and their family had still owned. But his plans to study engineering in university had dissipated along with his money. If only he would realize that his self-pity was wasting and destroying his life and his talents.

She wanted to tell Geraint that he wasn't alone; that, whatever else, she loved him because he was her brother, and she would do everything she could to help him, short of supporting him in a lifestyle he could no longer afford. But while he remained consumed with anger, she couldn't even talk to him, let alone give him the encouragement he needed to change his life.

Geraint cringed when he saw Julia step off the Cardiff train. She had bought a new outfit. A light grey coat, matching skirt and wide-brimmed hat trimmed with ostrich feathers. He recognized it as part of the latest spring range from the most expensive French fashion house that supplied Gwilym James. On most women of Julia's age, it would have been stunning. But instead of resembling a fashion plate she reminded him of a clumsy adolescent at the ‘ugly age' who had dressed up in her mother's best clothes. No amount of money or careful cut of cloth could disguise Julia Larch's thick-set figure, or plain face.

‘That is a lovely coat you are wearing. Light colours suit you,' he said insincerely, when she reached him.

‘Thank you. This is the first time I've left off mourning since my mother died.' Unused to receiving compliments, she coloured in embarrassment.

‘Where shall we lunch?' He offered her his arm.

‘My father always takes us to the Angel Hotel when we come to Cardiff.' She wished the words back into her mouth the moment she had spoken them. From the time she had realized the importance of money she had been given a generous allowance, which her father had increased annually until her twenty-first birthday when she had been allowed control of the trust fund her grandfather had set up for her. When she and her brother had inherited her mother's estate, they both went from being comfortably off to wealthy, by anyone's standards. As a result, she hardly ever thought of the cost of her purchases relative to a working man's wage.

‘The Angel Hotel it is.' His voice, flat, devoid of emotion, made her feel even worse.

‘Only if you let me pay.'

‘I wouldn't hear of it,' Geraint said stiffly.

‘You can pay for the theatre afterwards.'

Geraint did a rapid mental calculation. He would get very little change from fifteen shillings if they had a bottle of wine with their lunch in the Angel Hotel. The best seats in the theatre would cost him half-a-crown for the two of them, he had to pay his train fare and possibly even buy tea in a teashop after the show. He was earning three pounds a week; a weekly outing like this could easily cost him half his wage. Swallowing his pride, he said, ‘I'll compromise with you, Miss Larch. I'll pay this time, you can pay next.'

Julia was elated by the thought that he was already planning their next outing, but she tempered her enthusiasm. First, two outings didn't constitute a full courtship. And secondly, even if Geraint Watkin Jones was prepared to marry her for her money – and that was a big ‘if' because she was nowhere near as attractive as Elizabeth Hadley – much as she couldn't wait to escape from her stepmother, she didn't want to exchange Mabel for someone who might prove even more difficult to live with. And, unlike a stepmother, a husband would have legal control over both her and her money.

She took his arm. Geraint Watkin Jones might be doing his utmost to charm her, but she was astute enough to know that his attitude towards her might change, especially if he began to suspect that she needed him to gain her independence every bit as much as he needed her money. Also, should things progress between them to the point of marriage, she wanted to be certain that he would treat her with respect, if not affection. And that it would be possible for them to build comfortable, if separate, lives, and, for propriety's sake, under the same roof.

Chapter Eight

Rhian dropped the ironing basket on to one of the kitchen chairs, lifted out a table napkin, laid it on the table, dipped her fingers into a bowl of lavender water and sprinkled it liberally over the creased damask linen. She rolled it up, set it to one side and picked up another.

‘Rhian, leave that.' Mrs Williams bustled in with a basket of the family's mending. ‘Mrs Larch wants her shoes picked up from the cobbler's, immediately, if not sooner. So, apron and cap off.' The twinkle in her eye belied the sharp tone of her voice.

‘Yes, Mrs Williams.' Rhian tore off her cap before she reached the door to the servants' staircase.

‘Wear your coat not a cardigan, it may be spring but it's cold out there. And,' Mrs Williams lowered her voice, ‘no more than twenty minutes in Gwilym James.'

Rhian ran all the way to Dunraven Street to save an extra five minutes to add to the twenty. The cobbler's was full but she managed to attract the attention of an apprentice who had a soft spot for her and less than two minutes after walking in there she was at the door of Gwilym James.

‘Mr Evans is in his office, Miss Jones.' The doorman gave her a sly wink.

Joey was on his feet before she was even halfway down the aisle to his office, he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair, shrugged it on over his waistcoat and shouted to his assistant manager, who was rearranging the window display of leather goods, ‘Hold the fort for me for a quarter of an hour, Sam.'

‘The Irish linen rep will be in any minute,' Sam called back.

‘Give him a cup of tea and a chocolate digestive. Two if you have to.' Joey grabbed Rhian's hand. ‘Thank Mrs Williams for me.'

‘Why?'

‘I saw her coming out of Rodney's this morning and asked if she could find you an errand.'

‘You're right, she must be getting fond of you.' Rhian was amazed that the housekeeper had agreed to Joey's request. ‘Where are we going?'

‘It won't be a surprise for long.' He led her across the road to the jeweller's.

The manager dropped the newspaper he was reading when he saw them coming. He disappeared into the back room and emerged a moment later with a velvet-covered tray that he set on the glass counter in front of them.

‘Shall I tell her, Mr Evans?' he asked Joey.

‘No, Mr Stephens. Let her guess.'

The manager whipped off the velvet cloth and Rhian looked down on a glittering array of wedding bands.

‘They're new designs that came in yesterday. I wanted you to have first pick, before they went,' Joey explained.

‘You've already chosen one, haven't you?' Rhian said.

‘Yes, but saying that, you can have any of them, or we could look elsewhere if you prefer.'

Rhian studied the rings. Some were embossed with patterns of flowers and leaves, some engraved with abstract designs, but she was drawn to the plain gold bands. A few were so thick and heavy they looked as though they'd be uncomfortable to wear, others were so thin and light she thought they'd snap if they were subjected to continuous use. She found herself returning to one particular ring midway between the two extremes. She pointed to it.

‘You were right, Mr Evans.' The manager lifted it from the bed. ‘That's the exact ring Mr Evans said you'd choose, Miss Jones. Would you like to try it on for size?'

‘It will fit her perfectly.' Joey took it, slipped his mother's regard ring from Rhian's finger and put on the band.

‘How did you know the size?' she asked.

‘From my mother's ring. You really do like this one?'

‘It's beautiful.'

‘That's it then, Mr Stephens. You'll engrave it
Joseph and Rhian Evans, 1 August 1914?'
He looked to Rhian for confirmation. She nodded.

‘I'll make a note of it, Mr Evans.' The jeweller opened a drawer in the counter and removed an individual ring box. He slipped the ring into it, scribbled a note on a pad, tore off the piece of paper and folded it on top. ‘And the engagement ring, Mr Evans?'

‘I don't want one,' Rhian protested.

‘I know you said you didn't but I thought you could at least look at them. There's a solitaire …'

‘I don't want to see it.' Rhian shook her head determinedly.

‘Most girls insist on the most expensive in the shop, Mr Evans, so if I were you I'd quit while you are ahead and be grateful for an undemanding fiancée.'

‘I'm that all right.' Joey wrapped his arm around Rhian's shoulders. ‘Can I pick up the ring next week?'

‘It will be ready on Monday, Mr Evans.'

‘You didn't say anything about getting the ring so soon.' Rhian linked her fingers into his when they left the shop.

‘I told Mr Stephens I wanted to get you something special and when he showed the tray to me last night, I couldn't wait for you to see it. Now I feel as if we really are going to be married. Have you time to go to the teashop?'

‘Mrs Williams is kind, but she'll never hear the end of it if the mistress finds out I've been there in my uniform in the middle of the day.'

‘Kiss then?' he asked hopefully.

‘In the middle of the street?'

‘You'd prefer my office?'

‘I only have ten minutes left of the twenty Mrs Williams gave me.'

‘It only takes one to draw the blinds. That gives us nine whole minutes,' he grinned, ‘and if I'm not going to see you again for twenty-four hours, I intend to make the most of them.'

‘Have a good journey to Pontypridd and enjoy your suffragette meeting.' Geraint showed his platform ticket and walked Julia to the Pontypridd train.

‘I will. Thank you again for a lovely day,' Julia gushed.

‘Goodbye.' He halted outside the open door to a first-class carriage.

‘Goodbye,' Julia echoed, leaning towards him.

He hesitated for the barest fraction of a second before ignoring her proffered cheek and holding out his hand. ‘Same time and place next week?'

She broke into a radiant smile. ‘Yes, please.' She stepped inside the train, the stationmaster blew his whistle, and the guard slammed the doors shut. Geraint stood back and watched the train chug out of the station.

Although it was only their first outing, there was a barrier between them; one he recognized of his own making. Julia Larch had responded to his compliments with blushes, listened attentively to every single word that he had said, allowed him to hold her hand the entire time the picture house had been plunged into darkness, when he had imagined that he was with Tonia, and even leaned towards him in expectation of a kiss when they'd parted.

She met all the criteria he had dreamed of finding in a wife. She was wealthy, of age, independent from her family and had a pleasant and equitable nature. But he had found it almost impossible to conceal the fact that she repelled him physically.

With the deadline to leave Ynysangharad House looming, he had to secure his future as a matter of urgency and, as there was only one other woman in comfortable, if not independent circumstances who had responded to his attentions, he found himself questioning the veracity of what Joey had told him about Rodney's stores. The more he considered the idea that Connie Rodney's father had left the store to his nephew, not daughter, the more he wanted to dismiss the idea. But he was realistic enough to know that Tonia, not common sense, was his motive for questioning Joey's assertion.

The thought of Julia naked revolted him, the idea of sharing a bed with her made him feel nauseous. Whereas Tonia … He smiled when he recalled how accommodating she had proved during their shared afternoons in the privacy of the stockroom before Joey had burst in on them.

He needed to know more about Connie Rodney's finances, but he could hardly go up to Tonypandy and start asking questions about her shop, assets and bank account without raising suspicions. And even if Connie was as wealthy as Julia Larch, which he doubted, there was no guarantee that she'd give her daughter a penny or consent to his marriage to Tonia unless, as Joey had so shrewdly pointed out, he made Tonia pregnant.

If he did, would Tonia's mother sit back and watch him and Tonia struggle to bring up her grandchildren in poverty? Or if she did deign to help them, would she expect him to help her in her shop, because much as he hated working in Gwilym James, he most certainly didn't want to exchange his position there for an assistant's job in a grocer's shop. And even all these ‘what ifs' were dependent on him getting Tonia to speak to him after the scene outside the stockroom.

He'd missed her, or rather their stocktaking sessions, the last week. But if he was going to resume his relationship with her, he couldn't allow the situation between them to fester for much longer. He was dreading returning to Gwilym James in the morning. Because no matter how much he tried to hide in the office and the stockrooms, sooner or later he was going to have to walk on to the shop floor. And, at that moment, he didn't have a clue what he could possibly say to her.

‘Did you have a good time yesterday, Miss Julia?' Rhian asked when she brushed her hair the following morning.

‘Yes.' Julia held her finger to her lips. ‘Open the door,' she whispered urgently.

Rhian did as she asked and looked up and down the landing. ‘There's no one out there.'

‘Whenever we talk in here I have the feeling that Mrs Larch is standing outside with her ear pressed to the keyhole.'

‘She's downstairs, checking the menu for next week's Ladies' Circle tea party with Mrs Williams.'

‘Before breakfast?' Julia asked in surprise.

‘She's been up early every day since the coffee morning.'

‘I heard it was a great success.' Julia tried not to sound disparaging.

‘We were talking about yesterday. Are you going to see your young man again, Miss Julia?' Rhian asked, unable to contain herself a moment longer.

‘Yes, next Monday.' Julia smiled.

‘What is he like?'

‘Tall, dark, handsome, well read, well educated, polite and charming.'

‘A real gentleman.'

‘In every way,' Julia concurred.

‘Where did he take you?'

‘We lunched at the Angel Hotel in Cardiff then visited a picture house and afterwards we had tea in one of the small shops in the arcade before he walked me to the station.'

‘That sounds as if you had a good time.'

‘The best.' Julia smiled at the memory.

‘Are you going to see him again?'

‘Next week. Where is your Mr Evans taking you today?' Julia had said more than she'd wanted to about Geraint. She trusted Rhian implicitly, but her courtship with Geraint was very new and hardly normal and she couldn't bear the thought of anyone, especially Rhian, of whom she was really fond, criticizing it at this early stage.

‘To Victor and Megan's for lunch and Sali and Lloyd's for tea. We do go to other places sometimes, but we both like seeing the children.'

‘You are lucky that your Mr Evans has a large family. It must be lovely to have nieces and nephews.'

‘They're not my real nieces and nephews yet, but yes, it is nice.' Rhian pushed the last pin into Julia's chignon and combed the loose hair from her brush.

‘All I know about young children and babies is what I can remember from Gerald's childhood. And because there are eleven years between us, to be truthful I wasn't very interested in him at the time. Do you want children?'

‘Joey has already told me that he hopes we'll have babies.' Rhian smiled self-consciously.

‘In the plural.'

‘When I look at Sali's three and Victor's twins I agree with him. It must be wonderful to be part of a large family.'

‘You've never talked much about your childhood. Was it happy? Did you have brothers and sisters?'

‘Two brothers, both years older than me. They are dead now.'

Ever sensitive, Julia recognized something in the tone of Rhian's voice that warned her not to pry further. ‘I'm going to miss you and our chats when you leave to get married.' Julia untied the cape she wore when Rhian did her hair.

‘I'm not marrying for months yet and the way things are with your young man, you may be walking up the aisle before me.'

‘And I think you're building a very large castle on the foundation of one outing.' Julia reached for the locket on her dressing table.

‘It will be two next week. And you do like him?' Rhian fished, sensing that something wasn't quite right between Miss Julia and her young man.

‘Oh, yes.'

‘And you think it will lead to marriage?'

‘I hope so.' Julia didn't dare confide the identity of her secret ‘admirer', not that she felt entitled to call Geraint that, when it was her money that he admired.

‘Then if you don't mind me saying so, why don't you bring him to the house? Your father is a kind man –'

‘And Mrs Larch?' When Rhian remained silent, Julia added, ‘I want to keep him to myself until we get to know one another really well.'

‘I can understand that.'

‘Rhian?'

‘Yes?' Rhian twisted the loose hair from Julia's brush into a spiral and dropped it into her hair tidy.

‘Your Mr Evans is quite comfortably off, isn't he?' Julia really wanted to ask her maid's opinion on the idea of marrying solely for money but she thought the direct question would shock her.

‘Joey earns a good wage, a lot more than me of course, and his father owns houses,' Rhian began earnestly. ‘But that isn't why I'm marrying him.'

‘I wasn't suggesting for one minute that it was. It's just that – and I'm talking about myself – it's not easy when one person is much wealthier than the other.'

‘Megan had nothing when she married and Victor had the farm but that didn't seem to bother either of them. And although I've never talked to Sali about it, I don't think Lloyd was keen to move into Ynysangharad House, but he put up with it for her and Harry's sake.'