Treasure of the Celtic Triangle

by Michael Phillips

  Steven and Florilyn were married the following August. Percy stood beside Steven as best man, with Courtenay beside him. Gwyneth and Rhawn served as Florilyn’s two maids of honor. Steven and Codnor, along with their work on the new house, and with the help of several able carpenters and joiners, had remodeled a portion of the wing of the manor that had been used in former times as servants’ quarters. They had transformed it into an expansive apartment of seven rooms, occupying two floors, including a newly outfitted kitchen. It was ready by the day of the wedding. After a week’s honeymoon by boat north through Scotland’s western isles, the wedding couple took up residence in their new east-wing quarters.

  Percy and Gwyneth were married a year later, in June of 1876. Percy would have chosen his father to be his best man had he not been officiating for the service. Those who stood before the proud vicar were the same six from the previous August. Edward’s own son, however, was now the bridegroom. The ceremony was conducted on the flat plateau between the new house and the promontory of Mochras Head. The entire village was invited, and nearly every one of its number attended. Percy had always been a great favorite. And now, even if belatedly, those of the community embraced his new bride and their future viscountess as if they had always secretly known that she was something beyond the ordinary. A great feast and celebration was held afterward on the grounds of the new house. As the day was bright and warm, it lasted most of the day. The bride and groom did not depart in their honeymoon carriage—which would take them that night to Barmouth, thence to the Lincolnshire resort village of Cumberworth—until after six o’clock.

  One of the surprise guests of the day was Colville Burrenchobay. He and Rhawn spent most of the afternoon together. He was even seen a time or two in the midst of the festivities engaged in what appeared to be cordial conversation with Styles Lorimer. Drawn together by their mutual grandson, the Lorimer and Burrenchobay families had been visiting with increasing frequency. How much the people of the community knew was doubtful. The truth was not long in coming out, however, when Colville began calling at the Lorimer home later that summer. A few buggy rides followed. After some time, these began to include young Amren. With unhurried wisdom, Rhawn allowed the two men in her life to become accustomed to one another slowly. By the time their engagement was announced the following year, Amren had begun calling Colville “Daddy.” Colville and Rhawn were married and eventually had three more children. They took up residence in Burrenchobay Hall, which Colville inherited at the passing of his parents. As true as it is that most people do not change, anyone who wants to change is easily made capable of it by that desire. Influenced primarily by what he observed in Rhawn and Florilyn, a spark of that desire began to flicker to life within the heart of Colville Burrenchobay. He never stood for parliament, and though no one would have called him a saint, he turned out to be a surprisingly good father and was faithful to Rhawn for the rest of his life.

  Grannie lived in the new house and was honored by the families and staff of both houses as matriarch of the extended clan of Westbrooke Manor and the new house. She lived to be ninety-seven and died in her own bed in the new house with Gwyneth and Adela at her side. Her passing was mourned by the entire village that had once scorned her.

  Percy and Gwyneth spent three school terms in Aberdeen while Percy completed his law degree, returning with great joy to Wales every summer.

  Gwyneth inherited the title of viscountess and all the property of the Westbrooke estate on her twenty-fifth birthday. The day-to-day affairs of the estate continued to function as they had. All the people of the village and manor addressed both she and Katherine either as “Viscountess” or “Lady Gwyneth” and “Lady Katherine.”

  Gwyneth’s only order as the new first lady of Snowdonia was that someone from one of the two houses—she or Katherine or Percy or Steven or Florilyn or Courtenay or Codnor or Adela—should visit the village every day, whether for a pint of Mistress Chattan’s ale or a visit to one of the shops or even simply a ride on horseback through the main street. She was determined that everyone should have easy and unrestricted access to the viscountess and her people and know that their concerns would always be listened to and their needs attended to.

  Steven continued as factor for the entire estate and all the affairs concerning both houses. He attempted to make Codnor his co-factor and spoke to both Gwyneth and Katherine with the request to formalize the office and pay Gwyneth’s father accordingly. But Codnor would have none of it. The humble man would happily serve as his nephew’s assistant and his daughter’s willing servant, he said, but would accept no title nor pay for his services.

  Percy apprenticed for two years under Hamilton Murray, riding into Porthmadog weekly, then established his own law practice from an office in the new house on Mochras Head. More than half the local cases that came his way he performed gratis. The new viscountess was determined to serve her people, not profit from them. Percy’s gradually expanding reputation throughout Snowdonia and north Wales, however, along with regular referrals from Hamilton Murray, kept his legal practice mostly in the black.

  The earl and Mrs. Drummond moved to Westbrooke Manor and lived out their days with their daughter attending lovingly to their every need. They died within a year of one another, both aged eighty-eight.

  Though an invitation was sent them, Vanora and Daibheid Maloney declined to attend Gwyneth’s wedding. Now that Gwyneth knew the details of her own personal history and of the sufferings the O’Sullivan and Maloney side of her family had endured, she longed to know her Irish relatives and see the Welsh and Irish strains reconciled. She was conscious, however, that not all the suffering had been accidental. It was clear that Daibheid Maloney had inflicted his own share of grief upon others. Nor could she seek to win the man’s favor on the basis of what she had become. True reconciliation must be based on a recognition of her father’s character and a desire on the part of Maloney to make amends with the man he had scorned and rebuffed.

  Gwyneth and her father, therefore, planned a trip to Ireland and a visit to the home of Vanora and Daibheid Maloney. Vanora was cordial but concerned about her husband’s reaction. After humble apologies by Codnor for his contribution to the family rift, a gradual thaw began in the heart of Daibheid Maloney toward his former friend and coworker. Several more visits over three or four years culminated in Gwyneth at last revealing to Daibheid Maloney the full truth of her inheritance. Her aunt Vanora rejoiced, wept freely at last to have it out in the open, and embraced the daughter of her beloved sister. Gwyneth’s desire was to help the family financially to the extent Daibheid Maloney’s pride would allow. It was the least she could do for her mother’s family. All she was able to accomplish, however, after consultation with her father, was to turn over the deed to the house and land on Lugnaquilla. As the purchase had originated as a gift from the late viscount, Daibheid Maloney accepted the gift more freely than would have been possible had he considered it charity from Gwyneth’s hand. Friendship with several of Gwyneth’s Irish cousins in future years, and their children with her children, followed.

  Cousin Henry’s treatise on love, which Edward and Percy had read in manuscript, was finally published in book form in 1880. It became one of the best-selling and most beloved books on the Christian life ever published, and in coming decades sold an astonishing twelve million copies.

  Inspired by what he had read from his young cousin Henry, and under the continued influence of the pen of George MacDonald, Edward Drummond wrote a book simply called The Commands of Jesus, urging obedience as the central and only priority of Christianity.

  D. L. Moody returned to Britain between 1882 and 1884. Kyvwlch Gwarthegydd served as a volunteer for the evangelist’s meetings in Wales. Henry Drummond was again involved in Moody’s work.

  Moody later recalled a memorable night during the tiring campaign.

  “I was staying with a party of friends in a country house during my visit to England in 1884,” he wrote. “On Sunday evenin
g as we sat around the fire, they asked me to read and expound some portion of Scripture. Being tired after the services of the day, I told them to ask Henry Drummond, who was one of the party. After some urging he drew a small Testament from his hip pocket, opened it at the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians, and began to speak on the subject of Love.

  “It seemed to me that I had never heard anything so beautiful, and I determined not to rest until I brought Henry Drummond to America to deliver that address. Since then I have requested the principals of my schools to have it read before the students every year. The one great need in our Christian life is love, more love to God and to each other. Would that we could all move into that Love chapter, and live there.”

  Gwyneth sold what remained of the chest of gold to the British Museum in London for an undisclosed sum. The research of the museum’s historians had identified the gold as from a cache at the ancient Celtic site of Dolau Cothi that had disappeared shortly after its discovery in the previous century, thought to have been stolen by pirates and never heard of again.

  The actual value of the gold was impossible to determine. Seeking the advice of Hamilton Murray, Katherine, Steven, her father, and her own husband-lawyer, Gwyneth received no more from the sale than sufficient to recoup most of the losses of previous generations and thus place the affairs of the estate on a permanently sound financial footing again. Beyond that, she did not feel it right to profit from the discovery in excess of need. Rather, she considered it her duty to allow the museum to determine whatever future the coins should have, whether to keep them or sell a portion of the find as artifacts to help support the museum and finance its future acquisitions.

  When Madame Fleming, a.k.a the Wolf Lady, of dubious reputation in Arklow, Ireland, died of natural causes, Gwyneth ordered her house demolished and all its contents burned.

  Courtenay continued to race his horses with somewhat regular success. He won several more events at various tracks in England, though never another at such long odds as at the Chester Derby. After great effort, he convinced Gwyneth to jockey for a few of these. Her success convinced Courtenay that he had indeed discovered the golden goose. She only laughed at his plea that she become his permanent jockey, saying that she had more important concerns on which to expend her energies. To please him, however, she agreed to ride in one race a year. Courtenay’s racing activities at last made full use of his father’s new stables at the manor. A reputation began to follow him as one of north Wales’s leading owners and jockeys. He was often seen in close counsel with Gwyneth, the two walking side by side, Courtenay towering a foot above her, picking her brain about some aspect of horse training or race preparation and strategy. It was a sight none would have expected but which made Katherine’s heart swell.

  Courtenay met the daughter of a horse breeder from Barmouth at the annual Chester Derby of 1879. They were married two years later. After a year at the manor, an illness prevented his father-in-law being able to keep up with the work and oversight of his stables. Courtenay and his wife moved to the Barmouth estate, taking with them Courtenay’s gradually growing stable of thoroughbreds. There Courtenay took over the daily operation of the farm and business. He and his wife visited Llanfryniog frequently, however, bringing their children to visit their cousins and grandmother, while Courtenay slipped away to hold counsel with Gwyneth and Steven, whose knowledge and wisdom about animals and racing he respected more and more with every passing year. He was never able to bring himself to draw close to Percy, and they never formed what would be called a warm relationship. As brothers-in-law, however, Courtenay and Steven became the best of friends.

  By her choice, Adela Muir continued in the role of staff manager at the manor for the rest of her life. As Florilyn’s mother-in-law and aunt of the viscountess, her status in the home was as a family member. But she had to work, she said. It was the natural order of things. She could never be happy living a life of leisure. She and Katherine read every new MacDonald book they could get their hands on. Indeed, the Scottish bard and seer from Huntly continued to produce best-selling books at such a rate that the MacDonald shelf in the manor library grew to encompass nearly three shelves full of many editions and several thumb-worn copies of each title.

  Codnor Barrie never worked in the slate mine again. With his nephew Steven, he developed a breed of sheep especially suited to the climate of north Wales. Their flocks roamed the hills of Snowdonia, and their wool was highly prized throughout Britain.

  Lord Coleraine Litchfield was censured by the House of Lords when it was discovered that he had entered into a contract to purchase a tract of land on the Lleyn Peninsula under false pretenses. The ensuing scandal made all the papers, sullying Litchfield’s reputation with charges of embezzlement and fraud. Whether formal criminal charges would be brought remained in doubt. His secretarial assistant, Palmer Sutcliffe, fled the country and was last reported to be somewhere in France. Bagge, Litchfield, and Sutcliffe all went to their graves, in that order, never seeing the gold they had so lusted after, and the secret of what lay under the lake died with them.

  No one ever knew about the gold under the emerald Snowdonian lake until years later. After a long and serious summer’s draught, one of Percy’s and Gwyneth’s adventurous grandchildren was exploring in the hills and came across the long-hidden cave. Hurriedly he rode back excitedly to the new house to tell his grandmother, the viscountess, of his discovery.

  Steven and Florilyn had four children—three boys and a girl. Only one of the boys took after Steven. He grew into a burly youngster who loved the out-of-doors. By the age of twelve, he was already being touted as a future sheepshearing champion.

  An altogether unexpected visitor appeared one day at the new house on Mochras Head. The girl who answered the door was new to the area and did not recognize the plump figure standing before her in the finest dress and hat she owned.

  “Begging your pardon, miss,” said the woman, obviously nervous, “but would your mistress, the viscountess, I mean … is she at home, miss? If I could just have a word with her, you see.”

  The girl disappeared into the house. Gwyneth appeared a minute later dressed in a working frock, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel. Even on her usually placid countenance, the surprise was instantly visible.

  “Hello, Mistress Chattan,” she said. “It is nice to see you. Won’t you come in?”

  “No, Miss … I mean, begging your pardon—Lady Gwyneth, that is. I’ll just stay here and say my piece.”

  “How can I be of service to you, Mistress Chattan?” asked Gwyneth.

  From somewhere in the folds of her expansive dress, the innkeeper pulled a dry, faded cluster of what appeared to be dead wildflowers and grasses.

  “Do you know this?” she asked, showing it to Gwyneth.

  Gwyneth smiled. “Is it one of mine?” she said.

  “You left it on my back door one day many years ago. I had been rude to you that day, you see. But like you always did, you returned me kindness for it. I’m sorry to say, I cursed you that day and threw this on the floor. But something made me pick it up the next day, and I can’t say why, but I saved it all this time. I wanted you to know that I’m sorry for the times I was rude to you. You were a good girl, and you’ve become a fine lady, and I’m hoping you’ll forgive me for whatever unkind words I spoke to you.”

  Gwyneth’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Mistress Chattan, of course you are forgiven. You are a dear for saving one of my little forgiveness bouquets all this time!” She stepped forward and stretched her arms around the great bulk of the woman who was more than twice her size.

  Mistress Chattan had not cried in years. Nor did she cry now. But she came dangerously close.

  “Please …” said Gwyneth as she stepped back, “won’t you come in and have tea with me. I would enjoy it very much. I would like to show you the beautiful view of the sea from our sitting room.”

  With a nervous but appreciative smile, feeling greatly lightened
from the release of her long-carried burden of conscience, Mistress Chattan nodded then followed Gwyneth inside.

  Chandos Gwarthegydd married Mistress Chattan’s niece from Dolgellau. The innkeeper’s personal life had always been so shrouded in mystery that no one really knew where she had come from or whether she had living relatives at all. The identity of Chandos’s bride was greeted with many questions. Little was learned, however, beyond the fact that she was the daughter of Mistress Chattan’s brother. A beautifully incongruous relationship developed between the hulking young blacksmith and the aging aunt of his wife. The two young people took care of her during her final years with the most tender kindness imaginable. When the Keeper of the Ale died at the age of seventy-three, a handwritten will was found in her cash box, which Percy confirmed as legal and binding. It left the inn and all its contents to Chandos’s wife. The building that housed the inn and pub was one of the few in the village that was privately owned and not the property of the viscount or viscountess of Snowdon.

  Chandos continued blacksmithing with his father. An increasing amount of his time, however, was spent on his wife’s new enterprise. They upgraded, restored, and added several rooms, turning it into a seacoast hotel of some repute. Many of those bound for the village on the north- or southbound coaches got out at the hotel and remained in Llanfryniog for several days. The pub of the newly renamed Chattan Arms continued to serve the best ale in Snowdonia.

  Percy and Gwyneth had five children, three boys and two girls.

  As Katherine’s hair gradually turned a silvery white, her countenance took on more and more the radiance of that quiet, humble, peaceful, wise daughterhood that only lifelong attentiveness to the commands of Christ can produce in God’s women. She continued to read and reread the works of the Scotsman, along with her brother’s writings. With every passing year, she became more deeply convinced that the answers to life’s quandaries were to be found in uncomplicated, practical obedience to the words of Jesus. All her grandchildren adored her and took every opportunity to scamper into her lap, where they felt at home, content, and at peace.