Arian (21 page)

It was only when her lifeless hand was lifted and a ring slipped onto her finger that she realized what had happened; she had married Gerald Simples.

She would have pulled away but he held her fast. ‘Hush, it’s the only way out of here,’ he warned. ‘If I’d refused to marry you we might both have been kept in prison.’

He held her close to him and spoke in her ear. ‘Remember, we are in a foreign country, their ways are not ours.’

Arian’s feelings were in turmoil as she allowed him to lead her out into the street where she breathed in the fresh air with gratitude. She saw the gutters were being hosed down with water and the shops were slowly opening their doors. Everything seemed strangely unreal, like a bad dream.

Simples helped her into a carriage and then they were heading away from the police building and towards the outskirts of the town. The sun was lightening the sky, it promised to be a beautiful day. Arian suddenly began to cry. Here she was sitting beside a man she disliked with his ring on her finger.

She looked up at him, challengingly. ‘You always wanted this, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘It’s all your fault. I hate you. I’ll never forgive you for this.’

‘Don’t be absurd,’ he said sharply. ‘Did I ask you to go ashore alone? You were safe while you stayed aboard ship. I would have sorted everything out for you if you’d only given me time.’

He was right and she knew it. ‘Well there’s no chance of me coming into your bed,’ she said in a low voice. ‘You might have married me but you can’t make me do anything against my will.’

‘Do you think I wanted to marry you like this? I have some pride, though you don’t seem to realize it,’ Simples said coldly. ‘You must come to my bed of your own free will or not at all.’

‘Well you can guarantee it will be not at all,’ Arian said drawing as far away from him as she could.

When the coach stopped outside a small squat building near the docks, Simples helped her down. ‘Behave as naturally as you can,’ he said. ‘We have to stay in the country until matters are cleared up and if you venture out alone again I won’t be responsible for you. Do you understand?’

Arian nodded and allowed him to help her from the coach. ‘I will mention that you had a nasty fall,’ he said calmly. ‘That will explain your bruises.’

‘How long do we have to stay here, then?’ Arian asked apprehensively and Simples looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘Until we have sorted out the stock of missing calf and found out just who is guilty of fraud.’

The motherly woman who opened the door to them clucked in sympathy as Simples made an excuse about Arian’s injuries. She spoke in rapid French and Gerald took Arian’s arm. ‘Come along, Mrs Simples,’ he said evenly, ‘let us find our room.’ He led the way up a creaking staircase to a sun-filled bedroom.

Arian looked in dismay at the big bed and tried to quell the rising tide of fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She was trapped here in France, married to Gerald Simples and tonight they would spend the night together in this room. Would he be true to his word and leave her alone or would he turn in the night and force himself upon her?

She sank onto the multi-coloured quilt and stared down at the floorboards. It was as if her strength had deserted her. She seemed no longer in charge of her life and somehow it didn’t seem to matter what happened to her now; she felt tired and ill, she had been imprisoned and beaten and all she wanted to do was sleep. She curled up on the bed and closed her eyes. Her body ached, her head felt on fire. If only she could sleep then everything would be all right, the nightmare would go away.

She was aware of a hand on her brow and opened her eyes with difficulty.

‘You are going to be all right,’ Gerald was leaning over her. ‘I’m your husband and I’m going to take care of you. There is nothing for you to worry about.’

Arian turned her face into the pillow and wished she could die.

Eline stared through the window at the women who’d gathered outside the shop. They were pointing and gesticulating, their faces accusing, angry. Eline unconsciously squared her shoulders; it was clear that news of Calvin’s divorce proceedings against her was now common knowledge.

Quite how such information spread so quickly among the poorer quarters of the town she didn’t know but then bad news had a way of travelling swiftly. She and Will would have to prepare themselves to face the barrage of antagonism and abuse usually heaped on those unfortunate enough to have their mistakes aired in public.

Calvin would come out of it all mainly unscathed. He was now a free man, there would be not a spot on his reputation. He was aggrieved, the injured party, betrayed by the wife who had cuckolded him. Eline could see the headlines in the
Cambrian
as though they were there before her, already in print: ‘Shameless woman bears a child by her lover and flaunts her faithlessness in her husband’s face.’

No doubt the townspeople would say she deserved to be cast from polite society, and scorned by her neighbours, never mind that since their parting Calvin had done his own share of flaunting of women. He’d been frequently seen with his paramour in public but then there was one law for men and another for women. Calvin had not feared to take that awful Daphne woman anywhere he chose, yet he was seen as the wronged one and Eline as a woman who deserved to be ostracized.

She felt Will come up behind her and slip his arms around her waist. ‘Don’t worry. In a little while we’ll be able to get married,’ he said softly. ‘The gossips will forget, they always do. There will be something else to occupy them soon, you’ll see.’

She turned in his arms and buried her face in his shoulder, her heart was thumping in fear. ‘Perhaps they won’t ever forget, perhaps they will never buy shoes from us again.’

‘Don’t worry so much,’ Will urged. ‘The gossip will pass, you’ll see. Remember, my darling, we are together, free. That’s all that matters.’

A few days passed before Eline found the courage to venture outdoors. She needed to do some shopping at the market in Oxford Street to replenish the larder, she was low on flour and potatoes, as well as meat.

She knew she would have to face her hostile neighbours sometime. She expected comments, pointing fingers, and she would just have to put up with it all until the scandal was forgotten.

She was at the vegetable stall in the market when she was confronted by a woman she’d never seen before. The vitriolic tone of the stranger’s voice startled Eline as she was putting away her change into her purse.

‘You are a scourge on us all.’ The words fell harshly into the sudden silence. The chattering around Eline had ceased as though on a hidden signal, and women were watching from a distance wondering how Eline would react.

She stared challengingly at the woman who was neatly dressed, her collar white and carefully ironed, her hat firmly in place on her greying hair.

‘You are an abomination in the eyes of respectable womanhood. We can do without your sort shopping by here in Swansea market alongside us God-fearing folk.’

‘Excuse me,’ Eline said, forcing down the rising tide of anger and panic that filled her. ‘What business is it of yours what I do? You don’t know me or anything about me. What right have you to accost me like this?’

‘I have every right as a church-going woman to point out how disgraceful your behaviour is.’ The woman raised herself to her full height. ‘I have the right of any virtuous woman to accuse and deride a harlot who walks in my path. I speak as a God-fearing widow-woman and I speak for many when I say you should be driven out of our town.’

‘Look,’ Eline said quietly, ‘I have no quarrel with you. I am going about my own business, so just let me pass in peace. There’s nothing more to be said.’

By now the group of watching women had drawn closer, staring at Eline in self-righteous piety, pleased, it seemed, to have someone to accuse of immorality.

‘Mrs Coppleworth is right,’ one woman called. ‘It’s your sort that leads our men astray. I know what you are, Eline Temple, an alley-cat who will lie with any man who offers you his services.’

‘Don’t be absurd,’ Eline said loudly. ‘I have not taken anyone’s husband and I refuse to justify myself to rabble the like of you.’

A clod of earth struck Eline’s face and she lifted her head defiantly. The flat of a stone caught her cheek and as Eline stepped back a pace, Mrs Coppleworth’s voice boomed out, loud, almost hysterical in tone.

‘This woman is the lowest of the low,’ she called. ‘People of our sort do not get divorced, it is a shame and a sin.’ She turned, aware that she had a rapt audience. ‘She,’ the woman was fairly quivering with righteous indignation, ‘she would go to the bed of another man while tied in the holy bonds of matrimony. This … this whore is a scar on the fair name of womanhood.’

Eline saw with horror that the women were arming themselves with stones. This could not be happening, not here and now in the familiar streets of Swansea.

A figure stepped in front of her, as a stone was hurled past her face.

‘Stop this at once!’ The woman was puffed up with anger. She stood arms akimbo, hands on generous hips, protecting Eline from the crowd of incensed women.

‘So it’s you, Nina Parks, the strumpet from the Mumbles,’ Mrs Coppleworth shouted. ‘Go back where you belong. You’re no better than you ought to be either. You and Eline Temple are cut from the same cloth, whores both of you. Shared a husband once, we’ve not forgotten that, mind.’

‘Shut up!’ Nina Parks almost spat the words at Mrs Coppleworth who stepped back a pace. ‘Shut your mouth. I’m going to deal with you in a minute. In the meantime take you, Maisie Scott,’ Nina pointed a finger. ‘I know you take Tom the Milk to your bed most Sundays when your man is out fishing, so what right have you to judge any woman?’

She paused, savouring the sudden silence, her eyes flickering over the now cowed group of women. ‘And you, Delyth Jones, your husband has an eye for the young girls and you look the other way ’cause you can’t bear him in your own bed.’ She turned to survey the crowd. ‘All of us here know that’s the truth so I challenge anyone to call me a liar.’

Predictably none of the women wanted to draw attention to themselves, not when Nina Parks was in full flood. She turned triumphantly.

‘And as for you Moriah Coppleworth, you drove your Billy to drink with your cant and your Bible thumping, drove him into an early grave, you did, mind. What age was he? Twenty-six, twenty-seven? Glad to be out of it, he was.’

No-one spoke, even Moriah Coppleworth was abashed, her head hanging low.

‘Now get back home, all of you. Read the Good Book. See what it says there about casting stones and then look at yourselves in the mirror if you can bear to.’

The women dispersed slowly, muttering low, afraid that Nina Parks would launch another attack on them. It was Mrs Coppleworth who paused and stared belligerently at Eline.

‘You won’t always have
her
to speak up for you,’ her voice was harsh. ‘You will have your come-uppance, you’ll see. God does not sleep, mind.’

‘Oh clear off,’ Nina said impatiently. ‘Go and make someone else’s life miserable. That’s all your sort are good for.’

Eline let out a heavy sigh of relief as the woman turned away. Nina looked at her with a wry smile.

‘God preserve me from a good woman, I always say.’ She put a hand on Eline’s arm. ‘You haven’t carved out a very easy path for yourself, have you, love?’ she said softly. ‘You never did, not even when you was married to Joe but you was very young then, mind.’

Nina’s voice shook a little. ‘I suppose I loved Joe more than you ever did, bore him children, gave him myself. You and him were never meant. God help you, you have the knack of marrying men you don’t love.’ Her voice was without censure. ‘Go on, do your shopping and don’t let them wicked, gossiping women stop you.’

‘Thank you, Nina,’ Eline said quietly. ‘I dread to think what might have happened if you hadn’t come along.’

‘That’s as may be. In future you must attack first, Eline. Don’t let them women get the upper hand over you; none of them is without sin and you remind them of that.’

She stood for a moment, looking at Eline and there were memories in her eyes. She swallowed hard. ‘
Hwyl
, Eline, bye. Take care of yourself now.’

Eline stood alone in the middle of the busy market. She was trembling but she knew if she gave in to her fear she would never feel safe on the streets again. Determinedly she set out towards the butcher’s stall, her throat a hard lump of unshed tears.

It was strange how Nina had come from the past like a ghost bringing thoughts and images Eline would rather forget. The days Eline had spent in Oystermouth as Joe’s bride had been unhappy ones; she’d not been accepted then, either. Perhaps she was destined to be a misfit, never to find a place in any society. But all that she would forgo. Respectability was only an empty word; her true happiness lay with William and with their son. Lifting her head high Eline moved onwards through the crowds that thronged Swansea market. An outcast she might be, but she was loved and that was all she desired.

Night was falling. Arian sat on the bed and watched as Gerald Simples lit the candles in the small bedroom. The light sprung around the room, warming the patchwork quilt on the bed into colour, softening the contours of the old heavy furniture, throwing shadows that danced mystically on the cracked whitewashed walls.

With his back to her, Simples began to undress and Arian bit her lip, knowing that she was in an impossible position. ‘Come along, Mrs Simples,’ he said, ‘you might as well try to make yourself comfortable. You can’t sit there on the edge of the bed all night.’

‘Don’t call me that!’ Arian said irritably and she flinched as he stood naked before her, his broad shoulders blotting out the glow from the candle so that it made an aureola of light around his dark hair.

‘Why not?’ he said easily. ‘It’s your name.’ He climbed into bed, turned his back to her and pulled the bedclothes up around his shoulders. Arian shivered. It was cold in the room, there was no fire and her body ached for sleep.