The Treasure of the Celtic Triangle- Wales

by Michael Phillips

  Percy glanced up, himself also blinking hard. Katherine was quietly weeping. Florilyn rose and went to her on the couch. Courtenay stood, his face stoic, and left the room. Percy and Gwyneth followed a moment later, leaving mother and daughter alone.

  71

  Encounter in the Hills

  In that mysterious process by which news spreads of itself, word had circulated through the Westbrooke Manor staff that something was up, that some great change was at hand, and that Gwyneth was at the center of it. They had been told nothing as yet, but whispered speculation ran rampant.

  Gwyneth noticed curious looks coming her way from Mrs. Drynwydd and Mrs. Llewellyn and others of her former fellow servants. Percy knew her well enough to know that Gwyneth felt that her place ought to be with them, serving the family rather than pretending to be part of it. During that evening’s tea, during which Courtenay was conspicuously absent, Percy noticed her embarrassment as she glanced about occasionally, smiling awkwardly and almost apologetically as Mrs. Drynwydd poured tea into her cup.

  He knew she felt out of place. Though Steven was her cousin, and had grown up no more an aristocrat than she, he had been part of the manor family and treated as such by Katherine for more than a year. Everything was suddenly new to her.

  When Katherine showed Gwyneth to one of the available guest rooms on the second floor where she and Florilyn and Courtenay and Percy all had their rooms, she asked Katherine if it wouldn’t be better for her to stay in the servants’ quarters. For answer, Katherine merely gave her another hug. The seeming luxury of her new surroundings would take time for Gwyneth to become accustomed to.

  At Steven’s suggestion and after he had hitched the manor’s large carriage to two horses, the four young people loaded into it and together accompanied Rhawn and her son home to Llanfryniog. It was well past nine o’clock and dark before Percy, Gwyneth, Steven, and Florilyn returned.

  Of the four, notwithstanding her discomfort at being waited on by her former fellow servants, only Gwyneth was asleep by ten. The other three, in their rooms and alone with their thoughts and the gamut of emotions and reactions the day had produced, lay awake past midnight.

  The day had not gone as Percy had anticipated. His chief concern had been for his aunt. However, she had absorbed the news of her husband’s past with all the poise and equanimity he should have known to expect. Instead, his thoughts alternated between the two girls who had been at the center of the day’s fray—Rhawn and Florilyn. He knew the next days would be hard for them, adjusting to the sudden rush of events that had come upon them like a flood. Rhawn, especially, would probably feel alone and easily despondent. They needed to get together again and allow time for the emotion of change to settle and dissipate amid conversation, laughter, and friendship.

  He spoke to Steven early the next morning. Thus it was that shortly before noon, with a great lunch packed behind two of the horses, Steven, Rhawn, Florilyn, Percy, and Gwyneth set off for a long ride north and east into the hills of Snowdonia. The five were older now, quieter, full of many thoughts. New times were coming to them all. A good deal of laughter was interspersed with serious talk, but there were no races on this day. Profound changes had overtaken them in recent days. The future now spreading out before them contained many unknowns but also new opportunities. They were subdued yet also alive to those possibilities.

  As they went, Percy gradually drew back and allowed the others to ride ahead. He watched them with a smile, reminded of the rides he had taken during his first summer here. Now Florilyn was riding at Steven’s side, talking together as they hadn’t for months. Gwyneth and Rhawn followed as if they were old friends. How different this was from the day when Rhawn had tried to use her wiles on him and they had encountered young Gwyneth watching from the treetops. She would now be the one giving orders, not Courtenay as he had that day … for this would be her land. It was a peaceful day. Many bonds had been renewed and strengthened, and new and deeper ones formed. These five, henceforth, would always be friends.

  “Would you three mind continuing on without us?” said Percy as they made their way back toward the coast several hours later. “There is someplace I want to go with Gwyneth.”

  They parted ten minutes later, Steven riding between Rhawn and Florilyn down the descending slopes westward, while Percy and Gwyneth veered north and again into the hills.

  “Where are we going?” asked Gwyneth.

  “Can’t you guess?” rejoined Percy.

  “To my special lake?”

  “I went there after you were gone,” said Percy. “I had no idea whether I would ever see you again. I suppose I went to be close to you. I’ve wanted to be there again with you ever since.”

  “Did you see the horses?” asked Gwyneth.

  “I’ve been there twice but saw the horses neither time. They have probably been waiting for you.”

  Gwyneth smiled, and they continued on.

  They reached the overlook above the crystal green waters forty minutes later. They dismounted, tied the horses, and sat for a few minutes gazing down upon the peaceful scene.

  “Is this really happening to me, Percy?” said Gwyneth softly. “Or am I dreaming back in our cottage down near the village … or in our home in Ireland?”

  “If you are dreaming, how do you account for the fact that we are both having the same dream?”

  “Maybe I am dreaming you into my dream, and whatever you say is part of my dream.”

  Percy laughed lightly. “I have the feeling you will realize that you are awake soon enough. If I know you, you will very soon find yourself thinking of the good your position will allow you to do.”

  “I hope so, Percy. If it is true … oh, I do want to do good. I want to do good for people.”

  “You will, Gwyneth. Maybe this is God’s way of allowing you to spread your bouquets of goodness to many, and with more than flowers.”

  “When will … I cannot say it, Percy,” began Gwyneth. “But when will, you know …”

  “When will you inherit?”

  “If I do.”

  “It will be as it has been for Courtenay—when you are twenty-five.”

  “That will not be for five years,” said Gwyneth in a tone of relief. “I am glad of that. What will happen until then?”

  “Aunt Katherine—and now we may both call her that … although, no … she is actually your … hmm, let me see … yes, she would be your step-grandmother. In any event, she will continue to be viscountess and trustee of the estate.”

  Gwyneth drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “That means I don’t really have to do anything now,” she said then thought a moment. “I would like to do something, though, for Rhawn,” she said. “She is sad. I know it is from the consequences of what she used to be. But I still hurt for her.”

  “Being a friend is what she needs most of all. I think now Florilyn will be a friend to her again, too.”

  “What is Florilyn to me now, Percy? Is she my aunt, or my half aunt? It is very confusing.”

  Percy smiled. “I hadn’t thought of it,” he said. “But I think a half-aunt qualifies as an aunt.”

  “It would be hard to call her Aunt Florilyn.”

  Percy laughed. “Just promise that I am present when you spring an Uncle Courtenay on Courtenay!”

  Gwyneth drew in a deep breath as she peered down toward the lake.

  “I see no movement down there at all,” she said. “I don’t even see deer. They are always there. Something is wrong, Percy.”

  “Shall we walk down and see? Maybe the rabbits are there.”

  They rose. Again Gwyneth hesitated. A puzzled expression came over her face.

  “What is it?” asked Percy.

  “I hear something,” replied Gwyneth softly.

  Gradually intruded faintly into Percy’s hearing what sounded like the far-off sounds of machinery, the dull thudding of wood, an occasional clank of metal … even, though he could not quite be sure, shouts of men’s voices.
“I hear it, too,” he said. “What can it be? We are miles from any farm.”

  They hurried to their horses and rode toward the sounds. The terrain was steep, and the hills and peaks surrounding the lake were rocky and jagged. Gwyneth led the way for she knew these hills far better than Percy. In fifteen minutes, they crested the north-south ridge east of the lake. Below them at a distance of about half a mile, a crew of perhaps a dozen men, surrounded by at least twice that many horses, some pulling wagons, others hitched to strange-looking machines, were hard at work. Some of the men appeared to be removing large rocks from a wagon track or roadbed stretching out behind them, while others, ahead of the wagons and machinery, were cutting trees and removing brush and clearing out a way forward. Where the road came from, they had no idea. But they were obviously moving up the ridge in the direction of the lake.

  “What are they doing, Percy?” asked Gwyneth.

  “I have no idea. But I don’t like the look of it.”

  “I thought all this land was Lord Snowdon’s … or Lady Katherine’s now.”

  “As did I. Perhaps they are on someone else’s land. I don’t know where the boundary is. I saw several surveyors out here once before. When I told Aunt Katherine about it, she wasn’t completely sure where the boundary was.”

  “Should we tell Lady Katherine?”

  “Without a doubt—and immediately. Gwyneth, you know these hills better than I. You lead the way back to the manor … and with as much speed as you think is safe!”

  72

  The Lady and the Lord

  Gwyneth and Percy arrived at Westbrooke Manor an hour later, breathing hard and their two mounts lathered from the exertion.

  By then Rhawn had returned to town. Steven and Florilyn, who were walking together back from the stables, saw them ride in.

  Percy dismounted and ran for the house. “Tell them what we saw, Gwyneth,” he said. “Maybe Steven knows something. I’ll try to find Aunt Katherine!”

  When Percy and Katherine emerged from the house two minutes later, Steven, Florilyn, and Gwyneth were standing beside the two sweating horses talking.

  “Steven?” said Katherine as they approached.

  “I know nothing about it,” replied Steven, shaking his head.

  “Do you know the place where Percy and Gwyneth saw the men? Do you know the lake?”

  “I know it well.”

  “Is it near the boundary of the estate? Could it be someone else’s land? Sir Armond’s property borders ours to the northeast, I believe.”

  “There is no chance of that, Lady Katherine,” said Steven. “The estate boundary lies two ridges east from that lake, not one. It is at least a half mile from where, if I have my bearings correct, Percy and Gwyneth describe seeing the men.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “After he hired me as a groom, your husband took me about to show me the extent of the estate. He was especially concerned that I knew where the boundaries were between his land and that of Mr. Burrenchobay. Whatever is going on … it is on your land, Lady Katherine.”

  Half an hour later, on fresh mounts, Katherine, Florilyn, Steven, Gwyneth, and Percy rode away from Westbrooke Manor northeast into the hills. As anxious as they were to make haste, they allowed Steven to set a pace that would not overly tax the horses. By the time they reached the final ridge and began the descent down the slope where the work was still in progress, the afternoon was well advanced.

  Shadows from one of its two surrounding parallel ridges had nearly consumed the valley where the men were working, and their thoughts were turning to the dinner and beer that awaited them back at the inn in Bronaber. It happened that the mastermind of the project had ridden out at day’s end to assess progress.

  As they made their way down through the thickly wooded slope, Katherine nodded to Steven. The others slowed, and he rode on ahead. He made his way into the clearing and toward the scene. A few heads turned as he approached and reined in.

  “Who’s in charge here?” said Steven.

  Other heads turned. A few comments filtered back through the ranks.

  After a moment, a well-dressed man came forward from among them. He was obviously not one of the laborers. “I am Lord Coleraine Litchfield,” he said. “And who might you be?”

  “I am Steven Muir, factor of the Westbrooke Manor estate.”

  “Ah … Mr. Muir. Well, it is nice to meet my new neighbor.”

  “How do you mean, your neighbor?”

  “I am the owner of this land.”

  Steven took in the statement calmly. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “As you can see, my men are building a road.”

  “And this, you say, is your land?”

  “It is.”

  “As of when?”

  “Very recently.”

  “From whom did you purchase it?”

  “From the Westbrooke estate.”

  “I see. That will come as a surprise to the trustee of the estate, who knows nothing about it.” Still seated on his horse, Steven turned and signaled for Katherine to join him.

  As she rode toward them, Lord Litchfield recognized the late viscount’s widow. An indulgent smile came to his lips. “Lady Westbrooke,” he said, “it seems we meet again.”

  “This man tells me that he is the owner of this land,” said Steven.

  Katherine had not liked Lord Litchfield from the first. It was with great difficulty that she now kept her anger in check. “That is a curious claim,” she said, “in that I control the affairs of the estate and have heard nothing about it.”

  “The purchase was carried out through the new viscount,” said Litchfield. “Your son, I believe.”

  “Courtenay sold you this land!”

  “That is true.”

  “It is not his land. He has not inherited yet. None of this is his to sell.”

  “It will be in a matter of days.”

  “Do you mean to tell me that you are doing … whatever all this is … on my husband’s land when it is not even yet legally yours?”

  “Your son allowed me to commence my plans though the transaction will not be formally finalized for a few more days.”

  “But I do not give you permission. This is not his land.”

  “Three days … four days … what difference do a few hours make? He will be viscount, and this will be my land. Why should I not get under way?”

  “Because at the moment you are trespassing, Lord Litchfield.”

  “Tut, tut, Lady Westbrooke. A mere technicality.”

  “Hardly a technicality, Lord Litchfield, when you consider the fact that although my son will indeed turn twenty-five in four days, he will not become viscount … not then, not ever. Whatever papers you may have signed are not legally binding.”

  “What are you talking about? He will become viscount in four days.”

  “I fear not, Lord Litchfield. Gwyneth dear,” said Katherine, turning in her saddle and beckoning her forward.

  Gwyneth urged her mount up to Katherine’s side.

  “Lord Litchfield,” said Katherine, “may I introduce you to my husband’s granddaughter and heir, the future viscountess and Lady Snowdon.”

  “Don’t be absurd!” laughed Litchfield, sending his eyes in Gwyneth’s direction. “She is a girl … and a young one at that.”

  “My son will not inherit, Lord Litchfield,” said Katherine. “I will not trouble you with the legalities. However, I will trouble you to remove your men and equipment from our land. I will send Mr. Muir out tomorrow to make sure all activities have ceased and all equipment is gone.”

  At last Lord Litchfield found himself without words. But only briefly. “If what you say is true, Lady Westbrooke,” he said. “Then there will be a lawsuit. I have paid your son a good deal of money.”

  “That is between you and him,” rejoined Katherine. “He was not negotiating on behalf of the estate. Furthermore, I may be forced to bring a suit against you for trespassing and fo
r the damage you have done to our land. Good day, Lord Litchfield. You will be hearing from my solicitor.”

  Speaking more boldly than she had ever spoken in her life, nearly trembling in righteous anger both toward Courtenay and Lord Litchfield for what they had tried to do behind her back, Katherine turned her mount around and galloped back to where Percy and Florilyn were waiting, followed by Steven and Gwyneth. She did not slow when she reached them but continued as fast as she was able up the ridge, into the trees, and back to the manor.

  Somewhat calmed by the time she arrived home, Katherine was still infuriated at what Courtenay had tried to do. She went straight to her office and immediately drafted a letter to Hamilton Murray, informing him of what had taken place and requesting that he call at the manor as soon as possible. He must be made aware of Gwyneth’s presence without delay.

  Steven was on his way to Porthmadog with the letter shortly after breakfast the following morning.

  73

  The Solicitor

  In Steven’s absence, Katherine asked Percy to ride again into the hills to make sure Litchfield’s men and equipment were nowhere to be seen. Gwyneth and Florilyn accompanied him. They set out after lunch. They found the site vacant except for the scar through the land that Litchfield had intended as the new road to the lake.

  They returned through Llanfryniog. It was the first time Gwyneth had been in the village again since the day of their arrival on the coach.

  “I would like to see Grannie’s cottage,” said Gwyneth as they rode. “Do you know if it is still vacant?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Percy. “Do you, Florilyn?”

  Florilyn shook her head.

  “There is one way to find out,” said Percy, turning and leading down a narrow side street between the close-built stone houses. As they went, he caught what seemed to be a brief glimpse of purple, which almost the same instant disappeared down one of the narrow lanes leading away from Grannie’s cottage.