Chapter 12
The Vaughn's honeymoon started with a ride over the mountain to Brecon where they turned west along the road to Nye’s old village, Llangadog. Nye helped Eira down from the carriage and she followed him into the graveyard. They searched for his mother’s grave but there was no marker.
‘The skinflint wouldn’t even pay for a headstone,’ muttered Nye and took Eira to the minister’s house. The minister greeted Nye and agreed to arrange for a monument to be erected and inscribed with Nye’s mother’s name. Nye gave the minister some money.
‘ Are you going up to the farm to see your father?’ asked the minister.
‘There’s no point. We have nothing to say to each other,’ replied Nye.
‘Did you know, he remarried after your mother died? They have a baby son. You should go and see your brother,’ said the minister. Eira agreed with the clergyman’s suggestion but Nye was adamant. There were too many painful memories and he refused to go. That night, they took the best rooms in the King’s Head, Llandeilo. They were eating supper when the landlord approached the table, apologised and told them the room was required by two gentlemen who had just arrived from London.
‘Who are these impertinent fellows?’ demanded Nye.
‘A Mr. Paxton, late of India and his associate Captain Williams. They are in the bar waiting for their bags to be brought in,’ replied the innkeeper.
‘I shall have a word with Mr. Paxton, late of India,’ said Nye. He told Eira he would be back shortly and went to confront the strangers who were upsetting their evening.
William Paxton, recently retired master of the Calcutta Mint, was a pugnacious Scot, dark skinned from years in India and reputedly the wealthiest man in Britain. Paxton was a soldier, a protégé of Clive of India and a capable businessman. The gentry with their old money referred disparagingly to such rich men returned from India as Nabobs but never, if they were sensible, to their faces. His companion, Captain David Williams, was a sailor with an distinguished record of service with the East India Company. Paxton and his friend were in Wales, searching for a country estate to buy. Paxton had insisted on the best rooms on their arrival and would accept none other.
Nye Vaughn went over to the men, stood facing Paxton and said,
‘Gentlemen, you are going to have to find other rooms this night. My wife and I have no desire to move.’
‘Sir, there are other rooms suitable for you and your good woman to sleep,’ replied Paxton and moved closer to Nye. The two men were inches apart. Neither intended to give way.
‘Perhaps if we compensated you for your inconvenience it would resolve our impasse,’ suggested Captain Williams.
‘Let’s step outside and resolve our impasse,’ replied Nye angrily, unaware that Eira had followed him from the dining room.
‘Nye we're on our honeymoon. It’s not worth it. Let them have the room,’ she implored. Nye didn’t move. Paxton studied the young man confronting him. Few men had the spirit to challenge William Paxton and the young fellow, who he was starting to admire, clearly was not going to back down. Paxton thought of his own wedding, planned for the following year, smiled and decided he no longer needed the best rooms.
‘Your honeymoon! Sir, it would be a shame to spoil your features with a bloody nose on such an occasion. Captain William’s and I both apologize for our rudeness. What is more, we would like to pay for your accommodation as a wedding gift. Will you accept my apology?’ he asked and proffered his hand.
The next day, Nye and Eira visited St Teilo’s Church and the saint’s holy spring before leaving Llandeilo. They rode to Aberystwyth and took a room in an inn overlooking the harbour. The honeymooners visited Devil’s Bridge to see the waterfalls. They explored the brigand’s cave and heard how two brothers hid there after murdering a man who refused to part with his purse. Both were surprised how small the cave was and agreed it was an unlikely tale. From there, they travelled to Hafod Uchtryd, the great mansion completed two years earlier by Thomas Johnes. Eira marvelled at the 160ft long conservatory filled with exotic plants and the huge library filled with books. The housekeeper told them that the owner’s grandfather made his fortune as an ironmaster in Herefordshire.
‘One day we will own a house like this,’ whispered Nye and kissed his bride.
Riding back to Merthyr, Nye’s thoughts turned to business. His mind was full of new ideas; new ways to grow Castle Foundry. His old enthusiasm had returned and life was good.
Table of Contents