Chapter 9
Richard Thomas’ will was proved by Isaac's oath and, being the sole executor, administration of the estate was immediately granted to him. The assets were transferred to his name making him the new owner of Thomas Iron Works. Eira could do nothing to prevent the transfer and, since he also controlled the small trust fund provided for her, Eira’s financial future was in his hands. At home, Delyth started to make changes. She threw out the old man’s personal effects, ordered new furniture, moved into the large front bedroom and made it obvious that Eira lived in Delyth’s house under sufferance. With the death of her father, Eira’s circumstances had changed. She was now Delyth’s poor relation, subject to pity and scorn in equal measure.
Castle Iron Works prospered. Retailers sold the products quickly and were sending repeat orders. Blacks Iron Merchants were a particularly good customer, ordering cast iron stair posts and balustrades to be delivered to houses being constructed for wealthy clients across Britain. Benjamin Griffiths’ book keeping gave the partners more control. He showed them how to cost overheads and accurately calculate profit margins. Benjamin offered customers discount for paying promptly and liquidity improved. Despite giving discount, the business was profitable and, because customers settled their accounts early, Castle Iron Works accumulated cash to repay the loan on Gurnos quarry.
On the other side of the valley, Thomas’ ironworks had stopped making iron goods for the domestic market and was concentrating on manufacturing cannons for the Board of Ordnance. Procurement for the army and navy was a gentlemanly affair Isaac Thomas was able to charge what he liked. He inflated prices beyond what was reasonable. There was no competition between the foundries and little friction between Isaac and Nye. When they met, at civic functions, the two men ignored each other. Both foundries were making money and a tacit truce existed between them.
‘Have you seen this? Two men have flown across the English Channel in a balloon,’ said Will Jones and handed the newspaper to Nye Vaughn. Nye read about the daring two and a half hour flight, made on the 7th January 1785, smiled and returned the paper to his partner. ‘Trust a Frenchman to come up with a mad idea like that. I read that he once jumped out of a balloon and floated down to earth on a device he’s called a parachute,’ added Will.
‘Perhaps we should market a cast iron balloon,’ suggested Nye. The partners laughed and agreed that neither balloon nor parachute would ever have a practical use.
‘We’ve been asked to take part in the St. David’s Day parade. The other foundries always do something. What do you think?’ asked Nye. Neither man could think of anything suitable. Meir suggested a float depicting Saint Tydfil’s life and a picnic for the foundry men’s families after the parade and the partners agreed to her idea.
Tuesday, 1st March was a bright sunny day and Merthyr was on holiday to celebrate the life of Saint David, the patron saint of Wales. The foundries stood idle. Men loitered on street corners, smoking and exchanging greetings. Women scrubbed their children clean and dressed them in their Sunday clothes. During the morning, people drifted towards the town centre to watch the parade. The wagon from Castle Iron Works was drawn by two shire horses dressed with polished leather harnesses and brasses that shone in the sunlight. The bed of the wagon was covered with green matting to represent the farmland where Tydfil was slain. A boy dressed as the Welsh Chieftain, Brychan, stood grieving, unconvincingly while his dying daughter Tydfil, a young girl dressed in white, tried to look saintly as a bleating lamb tied next to her struggled to escape. Tydfil’s handmaidens waved to onlookers and boys armed with wooden spears completed the wagon's tableau.
The parade set off. Will and Nye walked alongside the horses. Behind the wagon, boys representing the heathen Picts, who murdered Tydfil, shouted and ran about. As the pageant progressed around the town, the Picts became more unruly. Mock sword fighting degenerated into a general rumpus leaving unrepentant boys bloodied and bruised. A mother grabbed her son, clipped him round the ear and shouted,
‘Elwyn, if you don’t behave there’ll be no picnic.’ Elwyn returned to the fray and walloped a boy on the head with his sword.
The procession was moving along Quarry Row when Nye saw Eira at the back of the crowd. She was alone. He left the parade, pushed his way through the people and stood beside her. She looked tired.
‘How are you Eira?’ asked Nye.
‘I’m well thank you, Mr. Vaughn,’ she answered frostily.
‘Nye, please?’
‘I’m well thank you, Nye,’ she replied. They stood watching the passing floats. Many were decorated with St. David’s flag; a golden cross on a black field. A marching band, playing popular tunes, set the tempo. Women in the crowd linked arms and danced. Others cheered and whistled their appreciation. A company of soldiers with leeks pinned on their tunics marched past, led by an officer with drawn sword.
‘Come on,’ yelled Nye, above the din and guided Eira along the road.
‘Where are we going?’ she shouted.
‘You’ll see,’ answered Nye. The parade finished on the meadow by the River Taff where there was a fair. Riders on the flying chairs were screaming and laughing. Others paid a farthing and waited for their turn. Music echoed across the valley. Young daredevils, eager to impress the girls, pushed the swing boats as high as possible. A boisterous crowd listened to a man, at the boxing booth, daring any stout fellow to come up and stay inside the ring with the champion for one round to win a shilling. When a challenger, goaded on by his friends stepped forward, they cheered. Nearby, a horseshoe tossing competition was taking place. Families were picnicking on the grass.
The float from Castle Iron Works stopped on the far side of the meadow, by the river. Nye steered Eira towards it. The tethered horses grazed, contentedly on the lush grass. A table was laden with hams, pies, cheeses and pickles. Another overflowed with fancy breads, bara brith, welsh cakes and savoury puddings. Shortbread and cakes were piled around bowls of jelly and custard. Meir was serving beer from a barrel.
‘We’re having a picnic,’ announced Nye and handed Eira a plate.
After the meal, there were races and games. The men of Dowlais Works challenged Castle Iron Works to a tug of war. It was a noisy affair with shouting and good natured cheating on all sides. No one could agree who won but it didn’t matter and the men agreed to a rematch the following year. Eira laughed with the others and, for the first time since her father’s death, felt happy.
Eira and Nye sat by the river. A heron was standing, motionless, by the far bank waiting for its supper to swim by.
‘What happened in the house with Delyth?’ asked Eira. Nye explained, how a boy brought a message, how Delyth forced herself on him, about the beating he received and how Isaac broke his ribs with a kick.
‘You must hate them both,’ she said. Nye didn’t reply.
‘I hate them,’ said Eira.
‘Why should you hate them? They’ve done nothing to you,’ answered Nye. At first, Eira struggled to explain but, as she unburdened, she grew more confident, impatient to share her secrets for the first time. She told Nye how she nursed her father, about the will, the missing notes written by her father and what they contained, why she couldn’t prove her father’s will had been forged, the solicitor’s threats to sue her and how, without her own money, she was trapped in a house ruled by Delyth. Eira wept as she spoke. Nye put his arms around her.
‘You don’t have to live a wretched existence.’
‘I have nowhere else to go,’ she replied.
‘Yes you have. I’ll take you if you’ll have me?’ asked Nye.
‘What do you mean have me?’
‘I’m asking you to marry me,’ replied Nye.
Nye waited for her answer. The heron pounced, shooting its beak into the water and emerging with a fish. The bird tossed the struggling fish in the air and swallowed it head first. They watched as the outline of the fish slid down the bird’s gullet. Eira didn’t answer. She didn??
?t know what to say. The proposal of marriage had stunned her. She wanted to say yes but was it the right thing to do? She liked Nye a great deal but he was a lodger in a tavern. He might have started a business but he was living by his wits and had no money or social status. How would they live? Where would they live? What would her brother do? Eira thought of her father and wished he was alive, to advise her.
‘I want you to be my wife. Not so you can escape, but for us, for our future and the future of our children. Forget your brother and his wife. This is about us,’ said Nye.
‘I can’t marry you, Nye,’ replied Eira.
‘Why not?’ asked Nye.
‘My father has only been dead for half a year. I’m still in mourning. It wouldn’t be right. What would people say?’
‘But will you marry me after your mourning is over?’ asked Nye.
‘Yes I’ll marry you Nye but we must wait,’ she replied.
They sat by the river making plans until the sun disappeared behind the mountain and the dew settled on the grass. The field behind them was empty. The last of the revellers had gone home. Eira shuddered.
‘We must go,’ she said. Walking back, they agreed to tell no one. The engagement would be their secret for another six months. There was no need for Isaac or Delyth to know their plans, not yet. When Eira’s mourning was over the whole world would know. They stopped by the bridge to say goodbye.
‘We’ll meet here on Saturday?’ said Nye and kissed her.
When Nye got back to the Star tavern he was grinning. Meir asked why he was in such high spirits. She had seen him with Eira by the river and, having her suspicions, wanted to know more. Nye refused to say and she teased him, probing to discover the reason for his good humour. Still, he refused to answer. Nye was bursting to share the good news with friends but kept his promise.
Nye’s mind was racing as he went to bed. There were things to do. He needed a house for his new bride, one suitable for a respectable woman. Eira’s treatment by Isaac and Delyth, infuriated Nye.
‘Did he hate them?’ Eira had asked. He hadn’t answered her but he did and now, knowing the evil done to the woman he loved, he hated them more than ever. Thinking about Eira, defenceless, in a house with her brother and his scheming wife, angered Nye. Rage and euphoria competed, tempest like, in his head.
‘Yes,’ he said to himself, ‘There are things to do.’
The house was dark when Eira arrived home. She closed the front door and walked slowly towards the stairs, feeling her way. The parlour door opened, casting a beam of yellow light across the passage and illuminating the stairs. Isaac’s silhouette appeared in the doorway.
‘It’s late. We have been waiting for you. Come into the parlour for a moment we have something to tell you,’ said Isaac. Eira followed her brother into the room.
‘Come and sit down we have some news for you,’ said Delyth and patted the sofa.
‘You tell her Delyth,’ said Isaac and stood with his back to the fire. Delyth smiled at her sister in law.
‘These last few months haven’t been easy for you. We know you took father’s death badly, after nursing him for so long. His passing has made you ill Eira. Nobody in their right mind would have said the terrible things you said about poor father’s will. We were lucky not to have had a scandal. If Mr. Jacobs hadn’t been reasonable who knows what might have happened. We’d have been the laughing stock of Merthyr. Eira, we’re worried about you. You mope about the house, you don’t eat. Look at you. You must have lost a stone in weight. Face it Eira, you aren’t well. Do you understand what we’re saying?’
‘I’m listening but I don’t understand,’ said Eira.
Delyth paused, ‘Perhaps you can explain better, Isaac.’
‘Delyth is trying to say, you need a break. Some time away from Merthyr will do you good. I have business in England. You and Delyth will come and stay with Delyth’s Aunt Lily while I'm in Birmingham,’ said Isaac.
‘When?’ asked Eira.
‘We leave in the morning. I’ve already packed you some things,’ said Delyth.
‘I won't go,’ said Eira.
‘Rubbish we’ll only be away for a few days. You can’t stay here on your own. We’ll take the landau. If it’s nice we'll put the roof down. You’ll enjoy it,’ said Isaac.
The bags were strapped on the back of the landau by the time Eira had finished breakfast,
‘Come on. We need to get going,’ called Isaac from the hall. Isaac and Delyth were climbing into the carriage as Eira emerged from the dining room. The maid held the front door open. Eira handed her a letter.
‘Will you make sure this gets delivered,’ she said and joined the others in the landau.
‘I’ve forgotten my amethyst brooch,’ announced Delyth and hurried back into the house. Moments later, she returned and they set off.
The carriage stopped at Abergavenny and they lunched at the Angel Inn. The sun shone in the afternoon and the driver lowered the roof so they could enjoy the views. The road was clear and the carriage progressed at a steady trot. Approaching Hereford the horses slowed to a walk as they passed livestock being driven along the road. The carriage reached the England’s Gate Inn, their overnight stop, as the church clock struck six. It was Wednesday, market day in Hereford and the town was busy. Farmers, who seldom left their farms, were making the most of the visit. Drovers were drinking in the taverns. A boy shepherded a flock of geese along the street. A groom ran from the stables and held the horses. Isaac helped the women from the carriage and led them into the coaching inn.
Eira was tired and retired immediately after dinner. She lay in the unfamiliar bedroom and listened to the rowdy drinkers in the bar below. It had been a pleasant day. Even Delyth had been civil to her.
‘Perhaps,’ she thought, ‘they were right. A few days away from Merthyr will do her good. Nye would still be there when she got back and he would have got her letter by now.’
Delyth also retired early, leaving Isaac talking with a doctor from Wrexham. They had ordered a third bottle of wine and it would be some time before he joined her. Delyth removed an envelope from her pocket, placed it on the wash stand and undressed. She finished her toilet, opened the letter and read the contents. Delyth smiled as she read the last line.
‘I’m sorry about Saturday but we will soon be together my love. For ever, yours, Eira.’ Delyth tossed the letter in the grate and watched it burn.
Table of Contents