Paradise Park Read online

  ‘Don’t think anything of it,’ Mrs Jones said. ‘Soon we’ll get you some slippers as well, to wear when you’re above stairs.’ She clapped her hands together briskly. ‘Now, let’s get to work, shall we? Otherwise the food will never be cooked and the kitchen will stay looking like a pigsty.’ She pushed the kettle onto the fire. ‘Vi, you and Hetty can do the vegetables and don’t cut the potato skins too thick. We’re trying to keep the bills down so as Mr Buchan’s happy.’ The two girls went into the scullery grumbling to themselves and the cook smiled. ‘Right then, Rhiannon, little Sal here looks half starved so fetch out the bread and a nice fresh bit of cheese, will you?’

  Sal looked down at her boots and twisted her ankle admiringly. Mrs Jones tapped her arm. ‘Sit down by the table, Sal, and get your fill of good food. I don’t suppose you’ve eaten anything today, have you?’

  Sal shook her head. ‘I could eat a scabby horse between two cart shafts I’m so hungry!’

  Rhiannon laughed and even Mrs Jones smiled. Sal looked down at the bread and cheese. ‘Duw! This is a lovely bit of grub.’

  ‘We don’t want any more of those coarse sayings round here, miss.’ Mrs Jones’s tone was brisk, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. ‘You learn to speak properly by here or I’ll put you out in the scullery with Vi and Hetty and those two will work you to death.’

  Sal looked suitably abashed but she tucked into the food with relish while Mrs Jones went on making a meat pie, and Rhiannon whisked a dozen eggs in a bowl ready for a custard tart. Sal could see that everyone ate well here, including the servants. Although her place in the household was probably the lowest, she knew that she would be better fed than the upstairs maids who thought themselves superior to kitchen staff.

  It was early evening when Mrs Buchan summoned Rhiannon and Sal to the drawing room. ‘She’s not going to chuck us out after all, is she, Rhiannon?’ Sal’s voice held a tremor.

  ‘I doubt it,’ Rhiannon said. ‘She’s not the sort of lady to take you on in the afternoon and change her mind by the evening.’

  Mrs Buchan was seated in an easy chair, her skirts spread out like the petals of a flower around her dainty feet and her soft hair like spun gold in the lamplight. Sal had never been so much in awe of anyone.

  ‘I’ve come to a decision,’ Mrs Buchan said. ‘I hope you’re both going to be pleased with what I’ve planned.’

  Sal swallowed a sigh of relief: it didn’t sound as though she was going to be dismissed on her first day at work.

  ‘I want to train you up to a better station in life,’ Mrs Buchan said. ‘My house steward has marched out in high dudgeon – I never did get on well with menservants, they tend to be too arrogant for their own good. Anyway, I want you, Rhiannon, to take over eventually as housekeeper. What I propose is that you learn the correct way to set out cutlery and china for an ordinary meal and also for a banquet. You were housekeeper to Mr Cookson for quite a long time, I know. Do you think you could cope with the responsibility of a large establishment like mine?’

  Sal saw that Rhiannon’s face was flushed with pleasure.

  ‘Oh, yes, Mrs Buchan, it would be an honour,’ Rhiannon said, ‘and I’m sure I could manage. As you say, I have had some experience and I’m willing to learn as much as I can.’

  Mrs Buchan nodded. ‘For the time being I will be in charge of the housekeeping records but I will want you to learn to balance the books. You can read and write, can’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Mrs Buchan,’ Rhiannon said quickly, ‘and Mr Cookson made sure I knew about the finances of the household.’

  ‘Good. And you, Sal, can learn to serve food to my guests in a gracious manner, I’m sure.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Buchan, it’ll be an honour, Mrs Buchan.’ Sal felt it safe to repeat Rhiannon’s words, but she was not quite sure she wanted to leave the kitchen: it was so cosy there and the food was plentiful and always at hand. Still, if Rhiannon thought that what Mrs Buchan was offering was a step up, she would go along with it. Mrs Buchan’s next words confirmed that she had done the right thing. ‘I’ll have the seamstress make you both some suitable clothes. I can’t have my servants letting me down, can I?’ She waved her hand. ‘Right, you may go.’

  Rhiannon ushered Sal out of the room and towards the kitchen. At the top of the steps she hugged Sal and kissed her cheek. ‘We’re going to be proper servants, Sal. We’ll have good dresses and cloaks, and the milliner will make us bonnets for outdoors, and the cobbler will make us new shoes. Best of all, we’ll have more wages. Are you happy, Sal?’

  Sal knew now why Rhiannon was so excited. ‘I think that bit of luck you was talking about when we first met has rubbed off on me. If it wasn’t for you, Rhiannon, I don’t suppose I’d have got where I am.’

  She followed Rhiannon down the steps towards the kitchen, her heart full of happiness. There would be no more men doing dreadful things to her, no more waiting outside coaching inns and public bars and, best of all, she would have her own shoes made to measure. This was the start of a new life, and Sal would make sure that she lived it to the full.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘YOU KNOW I love being with you, Eynon,’ Llinos looked at her friend, ‘but I don’t think either of us is ready for marriage just now.’

  ‘I am.’ Eynon took her hand, oblivious to the other people in the tearooms of the Mackworth Hotel. ‘You know I’ve always loved you, Llinos, and now that we’re both alone I thought we could live out the remainder of our years together. Your boys are away leading their own lives and it must be very lonely for you in that big house. I’m rattling around in mine too, so surely we’d be better off living together?’

  ‘I’ll have to think about it, Eynon.’ Llinos touched his cheek. ‘You’re very dear to me, you know that, but marriage is such a big commitment. Now tell me about Jayne and her good works.’ She had changed the subject deliberately: she did not want to hurt her old friend but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be tied in matrimony ever again.

  Eynon smiled. ‘News travels fast in Swansea. Well, all Jayne’s done is take on two girls who’ve had a bad start in life. She wants to give them a chance to better themselves.’

  ‘I never thought Jayne would be so understanding about those less fortunate.’

  Eynon smiled. ‘Marriage has changed her. She’s not the selfish little girl she used to be.’ He sighed. ‘But that was my fault. I pampered her.’ He shrugged. ‘Love sometimes makes fools of us all.’

  Llinos knew what he meant and she had loved her husband to distraction. She and Joe had been so happy together. He was handsome, kind and perceptive, all that she could have wanted in a life partner. That was until they had both strayed.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Eynon’s voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘I hope you’re considering my proposal.’

  She sighed heavily: he was determined not to let the subject drop. ‘I was just thinking that fate has dealt us both a strange hand. Because I took a lover I’m a fallen woman in the eyes of the townsfolk, every bit as bad as the girls Jayne has taken on, yet you, a pillar of respectability, want me to marry you. How would the gossips take that, I wonder.’

  ‘I don’t give a fig for the gossips, you know that, Llinos. I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you all those years ago, when you were struggling to make ends meet at the pottery.’

  Llinos nodded. ‘I know, Eynon, but our lives have gone in such different directions since then. You are eminently respectable while I have an illegitimate child. It just wouldn’t work, my love.’

  ‘I’ve told you, none of that matters to me. In any case, I’m no saint – I’ve had two wives and more mistresses than I can count but it was always you I wanted, Llinos. Stop putting obstacles in the way and please say you’ll marry me.’

  ‘Just let me think it over, Eynon. Getting married is such a momentous decision, particularly at our age.’

  ‘Nonsense. Our age is just right. We’ve gone through the trials and tribulations of l
ife and come out the other side a little wiser.’

  Llinos wondered what it would be like to live with Eynon. They got on well as friends, they laughed together and sometimes, in the past, they had cried together. They were closer than many married couples – but would everything change if they were tied to each other?

  She was wise enough to know that he would not be content with a marriage that offered only companionship: he would want passion as well as affection. Was she too old to give him that? She was past fifty now, and although she still had her figure and there was little grey in her hair, she might no longer be capable of passion.

  ‘I can see you’re giving my proposal some thought.’ Eynon smiled at her. ‘I think I can read your mind too.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ To her chagrin she was blushing.

  Eynon rubbed his thumb over her wrist. ‘I still have a lot of passion in me, Llinos, and we would be husband and wife in the full sense.’

  ‘But am I capable of passionate love now, Eynon?’ Llinos said. ‘I’m quite an old lady, you know.’

  ‘You’re still a beautiful, desirable woman, and many men lust after you.’

  Llinos smiled to herself. Eynon still saw her as an eager young girl. Her heart lifted a little. Perhaps, after all, she was not too old to enjoy a man’s embraces.

  She could see he was about to speak again and held up her hand. ‘No more, not now, Eynon. I’ll think about it.’ She sat back in her chair and picked up her gloves. ‘At this rate we’re never going to get over to see Jayne, are we?’

  ‘Come along, then.’ Eynon rose to his feet and held Llinos’s chair for her while she shook the creases out of her full skirts. ‘Don’t worry about seeing Buchan. He’s away, supposedly on business, for a few days.’ Eynon gave a short laugh. ‘Dallying with some woman more like.’

  Llinos examined her feelings. Once she would have been cut to the quick by such a remark but now she didn’t care where Dafydd was or what he was doing. ‘What’s going on there, Eynon?’ she asked. ‘Jayne hardly ever sees Dafydd and they live more like strangers than husband and wife.’

  ‘I don’t meddle,’ Eynon replied. ‘I know they never share a bed but beyond that I don’t ask.’

  Llinos looked up at Eynon and sighed. He would never have grandchildren while Jayne was married to Dafydd. She knew all about Dafydd’s affairs – Eynon discussed the subject openly with her – but most married men had their mistresses while still preserving some sort of relationship with their wives.

  Outside, the street was thronged with people. It was market day and bakers’ vans vied with vegetable carts, but when Eynon lifted his hand, his carriage appeared as if by magic. Eynon was well thought of in Swansea, but if she married him would his reputation be ruined too?

  Well, for now she would put the idea of marriage out of her head: she needed to compose herself for her visit to Jayne. Eynon’s daughter had never liked her, just tolerated her as one of Eynon’s friends. Llinos suppressed a sigh. Taking tea with Jayne was not going to be pleasurable.

  ‘So, Rhiannon, you seem to be coping well with the job of housekeeper,’ Jayne said, ‘but I must learn to call you by your surname and add Mrs to it. I know you’re not married but you lived with your man for quite a time and I understand you are known as Mrs Beynon. I think that sounds much more impressive than Rhiannon, don’t you?’

  Rhiannon felt a thrill of pleasure. ‘I’ve always been happy to be called Mrs Beynon,’ she said. ‘I can’t thank you enough for entrusting me with this position, Mrs Buchan, and I will do my best to live up to your expectations.’

  ‘You’ll live up to them,’ Jayne said, ‘because if you don’t you’ll be out of a job. Now, you know we’re having visitors for tea, don’t you?’ She didn’t wait for a reply. ‘I want you to tell Cook we’ll have some rich cake and a variety of pastries and biscuits. My father also likes thinly cut bread with salt butter. Is that clear, Mrs Beynon?’ Jayne allowed a smile to turn up the corners of her mouth.

  ‘I’ll do that right away, Mrs Buchan.’

  ‘Oh, before you go I must tell you that you look very smart today. The seamstress has done an excellent job. And your hair tied back in a bun gives you an air of respectability. I don’t expect anyone would recognize you for the . . . well, you know what I mean.’

  ‘For the harlot I used to be, Mrs Buchan? I’m not afraid to hear it because it’s the truth, but you’ve given me the opportunity to leave that behind and I’ll always be grateful.’

  Jayne had noticed Rhiannon had a certain dignity about her, with a broad streak of common sense. Soon she would be able to trust her to handle the accounts. She had the feeling that Rhiannon would be good with figures and that she would find ways to cut the household bills.

  ‘How is Sal doing? Can I trust her to serve tea today?’

  ‘I’m sure you can.’ Rhiannon smiled, and Jayne saw how pretty the girl was. It was a good thing that Dafydd had his retinue of whores and did not feel the need to turn his attentions to the servants.

  ‘Right, Rhiannon, you may go, but remember, anything you hear discussed at my tea-table is not to be repeated below stairs.’

  When the girl had left the room Jayne stood on tiptoe to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair gleamed and her skin was flawless. It wasn’t her father or Llinos she wanted to impress but Guy Fairchild: he was also coming to tea and his presence would brighten the gloomiest occasion.

  The doorbell chimed and Jayne held her breath, praying he had arrived early: then she would have him to herself, if only for a few minutes. She realized she was behaving like a foolish girl. She was a married woman and shouldn’t even think of another man in a romantic way. But Guy was so charming and Jayne knew that he enjoyed her company.

  She felt her colour rise as the door opened and Guy was shown in. He came towards her and took her hands. ‘My dear Mrs Buchan, how delighted I am to be invited once again into your lovely home.’

  ‘Please don’t be so formal. My name is Jayne.’ She smiled up at him. ‘After all, we are friends now, aren’t we?’

  ‘I sincerely hope so. I would dearly like our relationship to be more than that but, alas, you are married.’

  Alas, indeed, Jayne thought. Why hadn’t she listened to her father when he warned her not to marry Dafydd Buchan? ‘Come,’ she said, ‘sit beside me, here on the sofa.’

  He took his seat eagerly, his thigh so close to hers that Jayne could feel the warmth of him through her gown. She made no attempt to move away – surely it was not improper for friends to sit close together, especially when other guests were expected.

  ‘How is business, Mrs . . . Jayne? I hear shares in the Great Western are climbing steadily.’

  ‘It gives me a great deal of satisfaction to know I was wise in buying them in the first place.’ She hesitated. ‘But perhaps you think it’s not very ladylike to involve myself in such things.’

  ‘On the contrary, I think it’s clever of you to have had such foresight. It shows you are level-headed as well as beautiful.’

  Jayne blushed. ‘Oh, Guy, do you really think I’m beautiful, or are you just being polite to the wife of a friend?’

  He looked into her eyes and moved a fraction closer to her. ‘Jayne, if only you were free I would—’ He stopped abruptly as the door opened and Eynon Morton-Edwards came into the room, followed by Llinos Mainwaring.

  Jayne watched as Guy rose politely and exchanged greetings with her father. She paid especial attention when he took Llinos’s hand: would he, too, be bowled over by her charm as other men were? But his greeting was perfunctory and as soon as he could, he resumed his seat beside Jayne.

  ‘We were just discussing the rise in Great Western shares, Father,’ she said warmly. ‘The railway has certainly brought prosperity to the town and because of our forethought we are enjoying some of the benefits ourselves.’

  ‘Do you own shares then, Mr . . . ?’ Eynon asked.

  ‘Please, sir, call me Guy, everyone
else does, and the answer to your question is no. My arrival in Swansea was a little too late. By the time I moved here the shares had been taken by knowledgeable people like yourselves.’

  Jayne could see that her father was not impressed by Guy’s charm. On the contrary, Eynon was looking at him with suspicion. But, then, any newcomer to the area was suspect in her father’s eyes. ‘Shall we take tea in the conservatory?’ she asked. ‘The sun is shining and we might as well enjoy it while it lasts.’ Jayne had an ulterior motive in wanting to sit in the convervatory: once tea was over she could show Guy the plants she’d had brought in from abroad. Her father would be happy to talk alone with his beloved Llinos.

  Sal and two of the other maids served the tea, and Jayne, watching the girl, saw that she had learned quickly and well. She looked so different now from the barefoot, bedraggled child she had been when Jayne had first set eyes on her. She had gained a little weight and her hair, clean and glossy, was pinned up, no longer in a tangle around her shoulders.

  ‘So, Jayne,’ Eynon said, once the maids had left the room, ‘how are your lame ducks?’

  ‘If you mean Rhiannon and Sal, they are serving me better than anyone I’ve employed before.’

  ‘Got them hidden in the bowels of the kitchen, have you, cariad?’ her father asked indulgently.

  ‘No, indeed I have not!’ Jayne said. ‘Sal served the tea, and I’m quite amused that you didn’t recognize her. As for Rhiannon, she has taken over as housekeeper and I don’t have to check her honesty as I did with my previous servants.’

  ‘What’s this, then?’ Guy asked, his eyes on Jayne. ‘Are you a benefactor for poor women as well as being clever and lovely to look at?’

  ‘That is exactly what she is,’ Eynon answered. ‘These girls were once street-walkers but Jayne is trying to make respectable women of them.’

  ‘And doing very well, too, from what I’ve seen,’ Llinos broke in. ‘I think you are to be applauded for what you’ve done, Jayne.’

  For once Jayne was grateful to Llinos. ‘You see, Llinos agrees with me. And, Father, you’ve done your fair share of looking after those less fortunate. Forgive me for reminding you that it was you who brought Sal to me in the first place.’