Treasure of the Celtic Triangle

by Michael Phillips

  The twenty-five-to-one long shot had triumphed in the Chester Derby!

  Percy and Steven jumped out of their seats and ran through the tumultuous crowd for the winner’s circle. They were followed by Florilyn and Rhawn. After all the excitement, Stuart Wyckham sat down in his seat thinking what he could do with his winnings, while beside him the housekeeper and cook were trying to compute what their winnings would be.

  By the time they reached the winner’s circle, Courtenay was being congratulated by the race organizers and presented with the first-place cup. Percy and Steven and Florilyn and Rhawn were swallowed in a great swarm. Courtenay saw them, finally dismounted, and made his way through the throng toward them.

  “Magnificent race, Courtenay!” exclaimed Percy with a great smile, shaking his hand.

  “Well done, man!” said Steven.

  “Thanks,” said Courtenay. “An amazing last two hundred yards. I don’t know quite what happened myself.”

  Florilyn stepped forward and gave her brother a tight hug. There were tears in her eyes.

  Rhawn hugged him, also. “I can’t believe it, Courtenay,” she said. “That was a fantastic ride.”

  “I don’t know that I believe it myself!” laughed Courtenay.

  Even as he was greeting the others, it was obvious that Courtenay’s eyes were flitting about the sea of faces looking for someone else. But she stood a head shorter than everyone and was not easy to find in a crowd. At last he detected the head of white. He bumped and inched toward it.

  A moment later, Gwyneth’s face came into view.

  Courtenay stopped and stood, his left hand holding the reins, staring down at her.

  Gwyneth returned his gaze with an innocent and peaceful smile, as if she were not surprised in the least with the result. “Congratulations, Courtenay,” she said. “That was masterful. I knew you could do it.”

  He smiled almost sheepishly then slowly began to shake his head in disbelief. “You did it, Gwyneth,” he said. “Thank you. Thank you … for everything!”

  EIGHTY-ONE

  Mochras Head

  Percy remained in Wales throughout the fall, working every day with Steven and Codnor about the manor and grounds and at the new house. Never had he enjoyed hard, honest labor so much. Even Courtenay occasionally joined them.

  As the year 1874 drew to a close, Edward and Mary Drummond made plans again to spend the Christmas holidays at Westbrooke Manor. There was not only much to celebrate, there were plans to be made and much to discuss. Percy was eager to talk over the future with his father and arrive at some resolution regarding his plans for his law studies.

  The season would be highlighted by a family reunion with Edward and Katherine’s parents, the earl and his wife, returning at last from China to retire from the mission field. Their future plans were not yet firm. Before leaving for China, they had sold their home and parted with most of their worldly possessions. Son and daughter were doing their utmost to persuade them to spend their remaining years with one or the other of them—at the vicarage in Glasgow or with Katherine in north Wales.

  Edward and Mary, with the senior Mr. and Mrs. Drummond, arrived several days before Christmas. Katherine had seen her parents but once since their departure for China twelve years earlier. They were now in their late seventies. Though in good health, they were clearly slower of step and more stooped since she had seen them. The gray atop her head, however, signaled as great a change in their eyes as their increasing frailty did in hers. They had laid eyes on their three grandchildren but briefly since they were children, during a furlough from the mission some years before. Tears flowed freely throughout the day of their arrival. Three fine young adults now greeted them warmly, with handshakes and hugs, and, at least in the case of Percy and Florilyn, countenances of character to make them proud. Even Courtenay, who had avoided such gatherings in recent years, was present. He seemed genuinely glad to be part of the family again. The earl and his wife fell in love instantly with Percy’s young fiancée. They perceived in her eyes the light of truth and immediately took her to their hearts as had Edward and Mary earlier in the year.

  “So, Katherine,” said the earl the next evening as the extended family gathered in the large sitting room, “this is where you think we should retire and live out our days? Edward has been doing his best to convince us that he and Mary should take us in.”

  “I am aware of that!” laughed Katherine, glancing at her brother with a smile. “But can Glasgow compare with the beautiful coast of Snowdonia? Surely you would be happier in the country.”

  “You would certainly have room for us. I had forgotten how huge the manor is.”

  “Actually, you would not be living in the manor, Father,” said Katherine. “I have been building a new house out toward the promontory, about three-quarters of a mile from here. You probably saw it when you came up the hill.”

  “Why a new house?” asked Mrs. Drummond.

  “After Roderick died, there was some question about the inheritance and my future,” replied Katherine vaguely. “It seemed best that I have a place of my own and leave the manor for the new … uh, the new owner when that time came.”

  “This place is big enough for ten families,” rejoined the earl.

  “You may be right, Father. But young families need a home of their own. I did not want to be underfoot.”

  “Yes, well … I see what you mean. Right—can’t have too many old people around when youngsters are scurrying about. Although I must say, on the mission field children multiply like rabbits. Their energy is exhilarating. I have to say, I hope to go to my grave with tiny little hands and feet nearby that occasionally cease their play long enough to climb into an old man’s lap.”

  A pause came in the conversation. Katherine, Adela, and Florilyn rose to refill tea cups.

  As they resumed their seats, Steven took the opportunity afforded by the lull to stand and look about the room. “If I might be permitted a few words,” he said. All eyes turned toward him, wondering what the normally reticent young man had on his mind. He drew in a deep breath. He appeared uncharacteristically nervous. Had the company not been looking at him, some would have noticed a sudden reddening of Florilyn’s cheeks as she buried her hands and eyes in her lap.

  “For many years,” Steven continued when he had composed himself, “I have admired from afar a certain one of our number, trying to find ways to serve her in whatever humble capacity I might despite the vast gulf that existed between our stations. I was but the son of a poor sheep-herding crofter and certainly never dreamed of a more personal or intimate approach. When the late viscount was kind enough to employ me at the manor, and when Lady Katherine added to that kindness by showing such trust as to make me her factor, my opportunities for service toward the one I speak of, though occasionally frustrated by herself, were increased by closer proximity. Yet I remained what I was—but a poor crofter in the guise of a factor. However, when suddenly a few months ago my dear cousin was revealed to be Lord Snowdon’s granddaughter, hope sprang up in me that perhaps I myself might claim to be a little more than a mere peasant, even if not directly so. If I am not quite an aristocrat, perhaps I might claim sufficient standing to look a young lady of noble birth and character in the eye and tell her I love her. Therefore, after speaking to her mother, this I have done. Unbelievably, she reciprocated my sentiments. The result of all this is that I have the following announcement to make—that this afternoon I asked Miss Florilyn Westbrooke to be my wife, and she accepted me.”

  Even before the words were out of his mouth, Florilyn was on her feet and hurrying toward him. As they embraced, the room erupted in surprised exclamations. The two were quickly surrounded by their family and friends and smothered in hugs and backslaps and handshakes and kisses of congratulations.

  Steven’s announcement at last prompted Percy to talk seriously with his father and mother. Gwyneth had a similar conference with her father. The five then met together, Percy and Gwyneth seekin
g the combined counsel and wisdom of their three parents concerning their future and its timetable. No resolution was reached regarding Percy’s plans to attend law school, though his father recommended, and Mary and Codnor agreed, that he should travel to Aberdeen within the coming months to reassess possibilities. Now that it seemed clear that his future was in Wales, he needed to decide where his heart was leading him about his studies and future profession.

  Out of these discussions and the prayer that followed, one decision was reached. The wedding that would join their two families would be held in Wales in eighteen months, a year from the following June. At Percy’s request, Vicar Edward Drummond would be presiding.

  Two days after a festive and joyous Christmas, following a great Boxing Day “open house” at the manor to which the entire village had been invited, on a bright, sunny, cold afternoon, Gwyneth found Percy in the garden with his father and grandfather.

  “Come join us, my dear!” said the earl, rising from the stone garden bench and greeting his grandson’s future wife with an embracing hug of affection.

  “I don’t want to interrupt,” said Gwyneth, “but Percy, would you walk to the promontory with me later?”

  “Sure—it is a perfect day for a walk.”

  “Sit down, Gwyneth,” said Edward. “We were just talking about you. Percy was telling my father about his adventure in Ireland trying to find you, when he didn’t even know it was you he was trying to find!”

  “I certainly never dreamed I would see Percy again,” said Gwyneth. “No, that’s not quite right,” she added. “I dreamed of seeing Percy again every day. But I did not see how I ever would.”

  “I have to tell you,” Percy’s father went on, “I have tremendously enjoyed becoming acquainted with your father these last few days. He is a remarkable man.”

  “I could not agree more,” smiled Gwyneth. “I don’t know that I have ever seen him happier. For my sake he was willing to make a new life for us in Ireland. But he is, after all, a Welshman at heart. He is so happy to be back home, as is Grannie.”

  “But she is not actually your grandmother?”

  “No, my great-great-aunt.”

  “And Steven …”

  “Is my cousin. His mother Adela is my father’s sister.”

  “Ah … I think I have it straight at last!” laughed Edward.

  An hour later Percy and Gwyneth walked to the edge of the promontory, bundled in several layers of clothes, and sat down on the damp grass. The winter sun was slowly dying into the sea in front of them.

  “This is one of my favorite places,” said Gwyneth softly.

  “One of our favorite places,” rejoined Percy, “as long as you’re not waiting for me at the harbor!”

  “I have been coming here and sitting looking out over the sea since before I can remember,” Gwyneth went on. “I always associated the mystery of the sea with my mother. Now I know what happened. I have been to Ireland. I have seen the land where I was born. Yet I love it here no less that the mystery has been solved.”

  “The sea is mysterious of itself,” said Percy. “And we still don’t know how that chest of gold came to be buried in the cave down there. That mystery may always baffle us.”

  “But we found it. Imagine, Percy—we actually found a buried treasure! It’s a fairy tale!”

  Percy turned toward Gwyneth. The setting sun had grown bright red at the wintry horizon. Whenever the sun shone just right, its rays turned Gwyneth’s light hair into a luminescent crown of gold.

  “More a fairy tale for me than you,” said Percy as a smile played on his lips.

  Gwyneth returned his gaze with a puzzled expression.

  “I discovered the real treasure,” he said, “though it took me sailing back and forth across the Celtic triangle to find it. What is a chest of old coins compared to the gold I found? I found you!”

  Gwyneth smiled and laid her head on Percy’s shoulder. He stretched his arm around her and drew her close.

  “I love you, Gwyneth Barrie,” said Percy.

  “And I you, Percival Drummond. I may be your gold, but you are every girl’s dream come true.”

  They sat watching the sun slowly set. The moment the final speck of its red disappeared, the sky immediately seemed to explode in color. But the brilliant sunset was short lived. It was winter and the atmosphere was too thin to sustain the colors for long. Within fifteen minutes, dark blues and purples of approaching night began to engulf them in a descending blanket of darkness.

  “Just think if we could live our lives with this view all the time,” said Percy, “overlooking the sea, watching every sunset.”

  “Perhaps we can,” said Gwyneth.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Stand up, Percy, and turn around.”

  Percy rose to his feet then pulled Gwyneth up to his side. They turned their backs to the sea. There stood the outline of Katherine’s new house against the night sky three hundred yards inland from the promontory.

  “Are you thinking what I think you might be thinking?” said Percy slowly.

  “I don’t think Lady Katherine really wants to move to the new house,” said Gwyneth.

  “She is planning to. I’ve heard her say so.”

  “Only because she thinks she ought to,” said Gwyneth. “She probably thinks we will want her to after I inherit. But we would get lost in the manor by ourselves. I would feel very awkward. It will always be Lady Katherine’s home to me. The new house is not half so big. Why should we not live in the new house, where we can see the sea every day and let Katherine and Florilyn and Steven and Adela all remain at the manor.”

  “Gwyneth, that is a fantastic idea!”

  “I will speak with Lady Katherine. We will do whatever she wants. As long as I am with you, Percy, I will be happy anywhere. But I cannot think of anything I would love more than to wake up every morning beside you and go to bed every night with the sound of the sea in our ears.”

  EIGHTY-TWO

  Knotted Strands

  Tears came to Katherine’s eyes the next day when she realized what Gwyneth was suggesting.

  “Oh, my dear girl!” she said, embracing Gwyneth with all the affection of true motherhood. “You would do that for me?”

  “I would do whatever I could for you, Lady Katherine. Your happiness means more to me than anything.”

  “More than your own?”

  “Of course.”

  Katherine shook her head in wonder. “I know you mean that with all your heart,” she said, stepping away and smiling down at the girl who had become to her as an adopted daughter. “I would love to be able to remain at the manor. There would also be more room for my parents. I only decided to build the new house because I assumed I would have to find another place to live. Once we realized that Courtenay would not inherit, I must admit wondering if I had made a mistake. Still, the manor will be yours one day. Should it not be your home?”

  “I would rather think of it as yours, Lady Katherine,” replied Gwyneth. “The manor will be yours to live in and make use of as your own for as long as you wish it. If you would allow my family to live in your new house, I would be honored for you to remain at the manor.”

  “Then the new house shall be my wedding gift to you.”

  “To use, perhaps, but not to own,” said Gwyneth. “The new house and land shall remain yours. In your name, I mean,” said Gwyneth, “so that you will have them to pass on to Florilyn or Courtenay one day. You need to be mindful of your inheritance to them as well.”

  “Perhaps you are right. We do not need to decide all those particulars just now. But you have made me very happy, Gwyneth. Thank you!”

  With the arrangement between the present and future viscountesses, work at the new house continued as rapidly as the winter weather would permit. Doors, windows, cabinetry, shelves, fixtures, fireplaces and other brick- and stonework, and paneling and trim, were all completed by early February. By that time Percy, Steven, Courtenay, and Codnor wer
e in the process of painting those rooms whose walls had been plastered rather than paneled in wood. Carpet and drapes were ordered and in place by early April. By the end of the month, though sparse of furnishings, the new house was ready for Codnor, Gwyneth, and Grannie to take up residence within its new stone walls. What remained of their furniture in the two cottages in the village, as well as what had been shipped from Ireland, was carted to the new house. Katherine added many furnishings from the manor as well. For two weeks the entire company at the manor contributed to the move. Carts, buggies, and wagons moved back and forth between the two houses and the village bearing furniture, boxes, beds, crates, chairs, clothes, wardrobes, utensils, food, wall hangings, pictures, and tapestries. The men of the manor helped Codnor outfit the new stables with tack, tools, saddles, feed, and all things needful for the barn and workshop. Meanwhile, the women remained busy in Gwyneth’s new kitchen and in making the bedrooms and other rooms of the house cozy and livable.

  When at last the small Barrie family left the manor one evening after a great supper and prepared to spend their first night in their new home, it seemed as though some portion of the glory had departed. And indeed, life seemed dreary for a time in both houses. Even Gwyneth in the new house, notwithstanding her daily view of the sea, found it perhaps a little too quiet. But she saw Florilyn and Steven and Katherine and Adela daily. The path between the two houses was already well worn. Stuart Wyckham had planted a boxwood hedge and other shrubs alongside it. Gradually life returned to its old channels. Gwyneth ministered to Grannie and her father as she had in Ireland. Steven and Codnor continued to work on what interior details remained to be completed at the new house. Life between the two homes was soon flourishing as if they were one.

  Percy spent much of the spring in Glasgow with his parents, taking up again his occasional legal work, and made a trip to Aberdeen to assess his options for resuming his law studies. Whenever he was in Wales, he took up residence in his former room at the manor.