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SANCTIMONIOUS SIN
A Three Generation Saga
by Wendy Hughes
PART ONE - 1826
CHAPTER ONE
Lifting the flat iron from the hob, she tested it with her finger to see that it was not to hot before pressing Lady's Eleanor's gown.
'There fit for a lady,' laughed the twenty-three year old as she held the blue gown in front of her and waltzed around the table. She traced the design she had meticulously worked on to the bodice with her fingers, before folding and wrapping it in a length of white linen kept for transporting garments to her customers.
Such beautiful features, she thought, as she looked at Huw, her son. His complexion is so clear that it looks as though it shines from the inside out, like an exquisite piece of Swansea china. Why should he endure poverty and rejection? 'But only for a few more days Huw, only a few more days.' The five-year-old looked up puzzlement etched across his face.
Her meeting with Owain had gone well. He was a week away from his twenty-fifth birthday, then everything would be out in the open. She and Huw would move into Trehafod House and Huw would have everything he needed.
She stepped out into the cold air and harnessed the two shafts of the slide-car to Laddie, the horse Owain had bought her.
Huw climbed onto the seat beside her. 'Off we go Laddie,' she coaxed as she gave the reins a gentle tug and the horse trotted out of the village of Llan-Noeth. As she passed their secret place, her thoughts returned to Owain. A clump of fleece pushed into the notch of a fence post would indicate a message awaited the other. She looked for the sign, although she knew it was too early for a message. Slowly the grey outline of Ty Plas came into focus.
She rode into the courtyard and brought Laddie to a standstill. 'Farm carrier,' mumbled the groom as he led the horse to the drinking trough. She knew it was a primitive form of agricultural transport, but with only ploughed farm tracks criss-crossing parts of Gower it was the only way to travel. Proudly she watched Huw, his cream silk blouse shimmered in the sunlight. One day she would be able to afford to buy his clothes and not use the remnants from her sewing.
'There's good it is to see you Mrs Caradog,' said Hetty Thomas the cook. 'Go upstairs with young Becky, I'll look after Huw till you've done,' said Mrs Thomas.
'M'lady won't be long,' said Becky as she bobbed a curtsey, and opened the door to the drawing room. 'M'lady went to the hunt ball last night and...well...' she giggled, 'when Peggy came down at five she found her in a state.'
Sarah smiled, not thinking of Lady Eleanor but of the Ball at Trehafod House. Becky bobbed a curtsey and dashed from the hall as a pale-faced Lady Eleanor entered. She knew from her time at Trehafod that these were jolly occasions, but she could never remember anyone looking quite as ill as Lady Eleanor.
'Please forgive me Mrs Caradog I'm not myself this morning. I won't try the gown on, leave it on the chair, and I will get Becky to take it upstairs later. Enjoy your lunch downstairs.'
'Come sit yourself down cariad. We've got the rest of yesterday's beef, and your favourite, apple pie with cloves and cinnamon.'
Cook Thomas knew of the hatred that shrouded Llan-Noeth, but she asked no questions.
'Truth will out, she would say when the girls below stairs asked questions. 'Mark my words there is more to that Sarah Caradog than meets the eye.'
'Lady Eleanor is acting most peculiar like.' Peggy the parlour maid began. 'When I came down to black-lead the grate, she was sobbing her heart out.'
'Poor lamb, interrupted the Cook, 'very tragic.'
'What's tragic?' said Sarah suddenly concerned.
'Very tragic. She and the Master were going to the Ball over at Trehafod House last night, but when they arrived the butler was at the gate turning everyone away. The Squire's son's been killed.'
Sarah stared into a black nothingness as reality sunk in. An uncontrollable shudder went through her body. She felt as though she was sinking through the bottom of the chair, unable to control herself, but trying to remain composed.
'How?' she managed to whisper.
'Oh I don't know the details. It seems he was riding with his father. Talking they were, then his father raised his whip to ward off a wasp, or so they says, others heard them arguing. Master Owain's horse bolted, and he was thrown straight into a tree. Killed him it did. Anyway whatever the story the constable has been informed.
`spects there'll be a big enquiry now,' said Peggy.
'Quick Peggy,' yelled Becky, 'Mrs Caradog is going to faint.'
Slowly the room began to focus and Sarah began to make sense of the maid's starched aprons. At first she thought she had died and was looking at the angels, until distorted faces became familiar. Her eyes fixed on the oak dresser and the row of copper preserving pans. Each pan seemed to hold a portrait of Owain, some smiling, some laughing, some sad, as they shone down on her like hollow stars from a black heaven.
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