Arian Read Free

claustrophobic atmosphere that hung over his house. Since he’d been without his wife, Stormhill Manor had not felt the same. It was, now, just another building, it was no longer home.
    It was only a short walk into the busy heart of Swansea. The market was thronged with people, and the tang of spring vegetables along with the aroma of freshly baked bread hung enticingly upon the air.
    Calvin felt restless. He was a man without direction and he recognized himself as such with a dart of dismay. Money he had aplenty but he needed more than that. He needed an interest in life, a goal, an ambition but one that would not, ever again, involve him falling in love with any woman.
    He would eventually need a suitable wife, one who would play the hostess, provide him with heirs and one who would do his bidding without question, but that was something he would think about later on, when his wounds had begun to heal, perhaps.
    Calvin suddenly felt the need for a drink of ale. He almost ached for the company of fellow men, and the cheery, smoke-filled bar of the Castle Hotel seemed to beckon him through the portals.
    There was a card game taking place in the tap room and now and then a jubilant laugh from one of the players cut through the hubbub of masculine voices.
    Calvin sat near the roaring fire and the old chair creaked beneath him. He took off his hat and saw with a sense of satisfaction that the landlord was at his side in an instant, waiting to serve the unusually well-dressed customer whose very appearance shouted wealth and breeding.
    ‘Ale,’ Calvin said pleasantly, ‘and a toddy on the side will do nicely.’
    ‘I’ll send the girl along at once, sir,’ the landlord said, his plump face half hidden by a bushy moustache. ‘She’s new, so if she’s a bit slow, like, perhaps you’ll make allowances, sir.’
    Calvin stretched his feet towards the blaze and meeting the eyes of the man sitting opposite him, nodded in recognition.
    ‘You’re looking well, Jamie O’Conner. In town for the day?’
    ‘Sure, that’s right.’ Jamie was a handsome man with the far-sighted eyes of a farmer. ‘Whenever we meet,’ he smiled ruefully, ‘it’s usually in the company of our womenfolk at some fair or other.’ He coughed in sudden embarrassment. ‘Sorry, I understand you’ve had some difficulties, you and Eline.’
    ‘That’s right,’ Calvin said briskly. The clink of glasses made him aware of the girl at his side. He turned. She was thin, wraith-like almost, but there was no mistaking the silver hair, upswept now into a knot but the glow undiminished. He had met Arian Smale some time ago, happy and fresh she’d been then, tagging along with a fine young man, Eddie Carpenter was his name, as Calvin remembered.
    He sighed. Things changed. The talk about Arian Smale in recent months had pointed to a very different person to the carefree, confident Arian Smale he had first met.
    ‘Thank you,’ Calvin said. ‘How is your friend Eddie getting along? Is he a doctor yet?’ He looked away quickly. This girl with her haunted eyes and hollow cheeks was yet another reminder of the time when he had been in love with Eline, blindly in love, more fool him. Oh, yes, Eline had taken him places, introduced him to people who, in the normal course of his life, he probably would not have met, worthy people indeed but not his kind, he was better off without them.
    ‘We lost touch. She took a deep breath as though realizing how surly she must seem. ‘Grateful enough he was for your help though, sir, I’m sure.’
    His help?’ Oh yes, he had funded the boy’s training. Calvin had forgotten that, the money had been of little enough consequence. The girl placed the mug of foaming ale on the table and Calvin, glancing at her saw that her eyes were lowered, her shoulders bent in an attitude of subservience. Pity, an unwanted emotion, swept over him. The girl was so pale that her skin was almost transparent. She was, it seemed, beaten