“And women, Aled,” Marged said. “She would have to command a large number of men and women. Is there no one with enough courage, then? Eurwyn would have done it.” Her voice was bitter. “Well, I do not believe we should wait for the committee or for Rebecca. I believe we should show our displeasure now. Without any further delay.”
“But how, Marged, fach?” Ifor asked.
“Oh, no violence, please.” Ceris was clearly dismayed.
“One can show displeasure without violence,” Marged said. “One can be a nuisance without being violent or unduly destructive. All the milk delivered to Tegfan one day could be sour. Or it could be spilled accidentally from the cart over the front steps and terrace as it is on its way to the kitchen. The stable doors could be left accidentally open one night long enough for all the horses to get out and wander away. A thousand and one things could happen if we had the imagination to dream them up.”
There were a few titters of laughter and some open bellows of amusement. And then imaginations began to soar.
“The sheep could break out of the pasture at night and decide to graze on the flower beds.”
“There could be spilled tea or pig swill or something by clumsy old us when he comes calling.”
“There could be string across the driveway when he is riding down it and some sound to startle his horse to make it break into a gallop. Oh, Duw, I would like to see that one.”
“Too violent, man, for God’s sake. He might break a leg. And the man on his back might land with a thud on his backside.”
There was general amusement over this exchange.
“Well?” Marged said. “Who is with me?”
A few people, most notably Ceris, were definitely not. A few were willing to give it a try provided no one’s safety was put in jeopardy, including the Earl of Wyvern’s. Most were enthusiastically in favor of showing their displeasure and their frustration—and their fear—in some active manner.
Marged, it seemed, was in charge.
Aled advised waiting. “Give it a week or two, Marged,” he pleaded. “Perhaps he will change a few things now that he has seen for himself. And perhaps by that time someone will agree to be Rebecca and we can work on a larger scale in a far wider area.”
But Marged was not willing to wait. “For more than two years, since Eurwyn’s arrest, I have waited,” she said quietly, the anger gone, grim determination having taken its place. “For several months, since the formation of the committee and your appointment to it, Aled, I have waited. For almost a week since Geraint Penderyn’s return, since the Earl of Wyvern’s return, I have waited. I have waited long enough.”
There was a murmuring of assent from all about her.
“Well.” Aled got to his feet. “You will do what you must do, Marged. I will wait to see what the committee decides. Will I walk you home, then, Ceris?”
“No, thank you, Aled.” Ceris still did not look directly at him, though she spoke quite firmly. “I will not take you out of your way.” She left the schoolroom hurriedly and alone and did not even look at Marged.
If it were not for Geraint Penderyn and his like, Marged thought bitterly, there would not be this unhappiness and this dissension among them. All any of them wanted was peace to live their own lives and to earn an honest and dignified living. But that right was fast being denied them, and she for one was going to see that they did not go under meekly.
It seemed childish to be thinking of tricks to play on the Earl of Wyvern. But they had precious few ways in which to protest.
Chapter 6
MATTHEW Harley knew that the chapel choir practiced on Thursday evenings. And he knew that Ceris Williams was a member of the choir. He had not arranged to meet her after practice, and he knew that very possibly she would leave with Marged Evans. But he hung about in the village street anyway, on the chance that she would come out alone and would allow him to walk her home.
He was surprised when his hopes were realized.
“Yes, thank you,” she said after he had greeted her and offered to see her home.
She even took his arm when he offered it. It was something he had not done during their Sunday walk. These Welsh women, especially these chapel women, were funny.