Paradise Park (15 page)

‘Flatterer.' Llinos squeezed his hand. She glanced covertly at him: he was smiling, happy as always to be close to her.

‘Why don't you marry me, Llinos?' he asked. ‘I will never grow tired of asking you, so you might as well say yes.'

‘Let me think about it a little longer, Eynon,' Llinos said gently. She had got through the worst of the winter alone and yet, as the months went by, she was increasingly lonely. ‘How is Jayne and why has she gone off on yet another trip all alone?'

‘She's not alone. She has Sal with her.'

‘I know, but Jayne is hardly likely to talk much to a servant, is she?' Llinos looked at Eynon thoughtfully. ‘She isn't meeting a lover, is she?'

‘I doubt it,' Eynon said. ‘Buchan says she's frigid.'

‘All the same, she seems quite taken with that London man.'

‘Guy Fairchild,' Eynon said. ‘She certainly enjoys his company but you know how strait-laced she is.'

Llinos, too, had been strait-laced until she met Dafydd Buchan. But her fall from grace had come after Joe had been unfaithful to her and hurt her so badly that she no longer believed in her marriage vows. Did Jayne feel the same about Dafydd? ‘Jayne must feel she owes no loyalty to Dafydd,' Llinos said. ‘After all, he's had many lovers, too many to count.'

‘And does that still trouble you, Llinos?' Eynon's tone was anxious.

Llinos shook her head. ‘I got over Dafydd Buchan a long time ago. He means nothing to me now and I can say that with my hand on my heart. I don't know why he fascinated me so much in the first place.' She paused. ‘I looked on him as a hero, a man who helped those less fortunate than himself.'

‘I'm sure that was part of Jayne's infatuation for him but the lustre soon wore off their marriage. Still, I don't think she is the type of woman who would take her revenge by sleeping with another man.'

Llinos was not so sure: Jayne was a sensible, mature woman, and if she wanted a liaison she would plan it carefully, like a military manoeuvre. ‘Well, we can't live our lives through our children,' she said. ‘Look at me, two sons and I hardly ever see them.'

‘Well, marry me, and we can keep each other company by the fire when the nights are cold.'

Llinos laughed. ‘Don't you ever give up, Eynon?'

He took her hand. ‘I'll never give up on you, Llinos, you can be sure of that.' He bent over suddenly and kissed her full on the lips, and it was then that Llinos felt the first stirrings of passion for the man she'd looked on all her life as a friend.

Rhiannon sank back in her chair and closed the account book with a sigh of relief. These days, with Mrs Buchan away, she was handling almost everything to do with the running of the house. It was a lot of hard work and sometimes she felt she needed the mistress's guidance. What's more, she missed Sal too, especially at night.

Some nights, tucked up in the warmth of their beds, they talked about what sort of day they'd had and usually ended up thanking the Almighty for their new way of life. Occasionally they talked about the old days when neither of them had known where the next meal was coming from. Sal was the only one, apart from herself, in the household who understood what being on the street meant.

Rhiannon looked round the small office Mrs Buchan had provided for her. It was warm and cheerful, with plenty of oil lamps and a good fire roaring in the grate. She was lucky to be in such a position. She closed the cover of the inkwell and wiped the nib of her pen.

Rhiannon felt a warm glow as she thought about her work. Now she could order food in large quantities, she could take stock of linen and cutlery and, best of all, she was entrusted with the accounts. Rhiannon had always been good at reading and writing. Naturally quick as a child, she had been well educated by the lodger. What a pity his teaching hadn't stopped there. She shuddered as she thought of his hands touching her, holding her, while he did unmentionable things to her.

Rhiannon rose from her chair and stood close to the fire, staring into the flames. Where would she go from here? Would she always be a servant at someone's beck and call, or could she aspire to higher things?

A coal shifted in the grate, the tick of the clock seemed suddenly loud in the silence, and all at once Rhiannon felt terribly alone. All her skills at housekeeping, all her cleverness with figures did nothing to assuage the loneliness she felt when she thought of Bull and of the lowly home she'd shared with him on the trackside of the Great Western Railway.

She picked up the account books and slid them into the shelf above the desk. It was time she joined Mrs Jones and the maids in the kitchen for a chat before bed.

In the hall, she came face to face with Mr Buchan. Rhiannon nodded respectfully and would have passed him by but he held out his hand and stopped her. ‘Rhiannon, I have had a letter from Mrs Buchan. She is coming home tomorrow. I want you to strip the bed in her room and cover the furnishings with dust sheets. From now on my wife will obey me and sleep in my room.'

Rhiannon hid her surprise. She didn't think Mrs Buchan would stand for such high-handedness. Still, as a servant it was her place to obey and not to ask questions. ‘Shall I see to it in the morning, sir?' She was bone weary and her eyes were almost closing. When the master shook his head she suppressed a sigh.

‘I want it done now.' His speech was a little slurred and it was clear he had drunk a great deal of brandy. ‘I am wearied by women disobeying me, Rhiannon.'

‘Yes, sir.' She kept her eyes averted. She knew he was referring to her own refusal to sleep with him as much as to his wife's. ‘I'm sorry, sir.'

He caught her arm. ‘Why won't you come to my bed, Rhiannon? Am I not as good as the navvies for whom you spread your legs so willingly?' Then he slumped against her and she realized he was almost unconscious. She propped him against the door lintel and rang the bell for the footman. He came at once, thinking the master had summoned him. The look of astonishment on his face when he saw the state of Mr Buchan was almost funny. ‘Help me get him upstairs,' Rhiannon said sharply, and he obeyed at once. Together, they managed to get Mr Buchan into bed. She did not undress him, just pulled a blanket over him and snuffed out the candles. Then she went to carry out his orders. It would be interesting to see what Mrs Buchan made of the arrangement.

Jayne was waiting in the foyer of St Anne's Hotel for Guy to join her. She saw him come in, watched his graceful stride as he crossed the floor towards her and felt a sense of pride: this man was in love with her.

He came close and held out his hands to her. She smiled up at him and then, disregarding the other people in the foyer, kissed him briefly on the lips. He held her close, and warmth flooded her at his touch. Perhaps it was wrong to feel this way, disloyal, a breaking of all her marriage vows, but at least she knew she was alive and that she was not frigid, as Dafydd claimed.

Reluctantly, she drew away from him. ‘We're playing with fire, Guy.'

‘Come away with me – for good. What does anything else matter if we're happy?'

‘I couldn't do that, Guy. What about my father? He's getting older now, he needs me.'

‘He would understand better than anyone how you feel. He's never liked Buchan, has he?'

‘No, but he would be angry if I left my marriage to live as a mistress.'

‘You would be like a wife to me, Jayne, I promise you. Just say you'll think about it.'

‘I will. It would be hard to think of anything else.'

They ate a meal they hardly tasted, sitting at an elegant table beneath the flickering candles in the chandeliers, and Jayne felt as though she was in a world of magic, where reality had no place.

She drank some wine, and then some more, and soon running away with Guy seemed a reasonable thing to do. After the meal, Guy led her to their favourite sofa in the hotel's almost empty salon. She felt a rush of passion that frightened and surprised her.

‘I want to take you to bed.' Guy's eyes were dreamy; his fingers traced a pattern along her jaw and came to rest on her lips. ‘I want to be with you at every moment of the day, my sweetest Jayne. How can I live without you now that I've found you?'

‘Please, don't torture me. I don't think I'm ready to give myself to you.' She rested her head against his shoulder and his arm encircled her. She felt safe, warm and protected.

‘I never thought I'd talk like this to any woman, Jayne, but I wish I was a poet so that I could make up the words to tell you how much I feel for you. Instead I have to rely on plain speech to say that I love you enough to lay down my life for you.'

She looked into his eyes and knew that she wanted him with an urgency she could not deny. Why was she so reluctant to cross that final barrier? All her life she'd been taught that chastity was a virtue, but what did it give you except empty nights and an empty bed? ‘I'm going upstairs now.' She took a deep breath. ‘Wait for fifteen minutes then come to my room.'

He held her hands. ‘Are you sure, Jayne? You know I wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't want to.'

‘I was never more sure of anything in my life,' Jayne said, and meant it. Tonight might be her only chance to experience real passion. Her heart was thudding as she went to her room.

Sal was drawing back the bed covers. Jayne looked down at her silk nightgown with its lace edging and realized it would cover her from neck to feet – not the sort of nightgown to greet a lover in, but it would have to do. ‘Help me undress quickly, Sal, and then you can go to your room.'

Sal looked at her in surprise. ‘Are you sure you won't need me for anything else, Mrs Buchan?'

‘I'm sure.' Jayne smiled. ‘You get an early night – I've been keeping you up far too late, and you're looking peaky.'

Soon, Jayne was in her nightgown, settled in a chair near the fire. Her mouth was dry with fear. Was she more afraid of Guy coming to her room or that he might change his mind and stay away?

Sal was putting clothes away slowly. ‘Leave that, Sal.' Jayne was aware that her voice was sharp. ‘I want a little peace before I go to bed.'

When Sal had gone Jayne smoothed down her nightgown and looked at her bare feet. What if she proved a disappointment to Guy? What if she felt the same indifference when he made love to her that she felt when Dafydd had come to her bed? Should she just lock her door and not answer when he knocked? She was so confused, so afraid, but excited too.

She heard the rattle of the door-handle and held her breath. He was here: this was the moment that might change her life for ever.

Guy came quietly into the room and knelt before her, resting his head on her knees. She ran her fingers through his hair, thick and springy to the touch. She tipped his face up to hers and looked at him for a long moment. And then he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, passionately. A riot of sensations raced through her body. Jayne felt as if she was in a dream when Guy stood up, drew her to her feet, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

She watched as he took off his clothes. His body was beautiful, strong and lean, and he stood for a moment looking down at her with such love in his eyes that Jayne wanted to cry. She held out her hand. ‘Come to bed, Guy, please.'

He slid in beside her, his arms encircling her, holding her close. Neither of them spoke as Guy gently opened the buttons on her nightgown. He slipped his hand inside and cupped her breast. Jayne closed her eyes: she wanted this, it was so right, and nothing could ever rob her of the memory of this night. His touch on her nipples made her gasp with delight. His mouth was hot on hers, his tongue probing. Jayne clung to him. ‘Now,' she said.

When he came to her, she was ready for him; her hands ran over him as she pressed herself against him. His breath mingled with hers and his mouth tasted sweet as he kissed her.

He made love to her gently at first and then with growing passion. Jayne heard her own voice cry out as sensation upon sensation encompassed her. And then, shuddering with pleasure, she became quiet in his arms, drowsing in a state of bliss. She had never known that being with a man could feel like this. It was as if Guy had given her a precious gift, one she would hold on to until the day she died.

‘So, you've come home to me like a dutiful wife, Jayne,' Dafydd said, the sarcasm ringing in his voice. ‘And from now on you'll sleep in my bed.'

‘I haven't come home to
you
,' Jayne said. ‘On the contrary, I'm leaving you, Dafydd. All I want is to pack some of my things and then I'm going.'

‘I don't believe you,' Dafydd said. ‘You haven't the courage to leave me.'

‘Just watch me.' Jayne went upstairs with Sal trailing behind her. ‘Fetch Rhiannon and then you can pack some clothes for me, Sal,' she said. ‘I'll just collect my papers.' She went into her room and stopped suddenly. Everything was covered in dust sheets. How dare Dafydd do this to her? Well, it was one more nail in his coffin. ‘Go on, Sal, fetch Rhiannon for me,' she said briskly.

Sal ran off as fast as she could. Jayne imagined the girl breaking the news to the rest of the servants. They and the whole of Swansea would have something to gossip about now, something that would be more than a seven-day wonder.

‘Yes, Mrs Buchan, you wanted me?' Rhiannon, her eyes wide, came into the room and stood with her hands clasped in front of her.

‘I want to know what's going on here. Why is my room closed up like this?'

‘Mr Buchan's orders, ma'am. He made me move your things into his room.'

‘Oh, did he? Well, it makes no difference because I'm leaving,' Jayne said. ‘But I want you to look after things here for a while. You can continue to do the books and report to me at the end of the month. I'll give you an address before I leave and later you can join me if you want to.'