Murray nodded and looked over his transcription of the conversation.
“Did you ever see any of them again?” he asked.
“The man Barrie and his daughter, of course,” replied Madame Fleming. “It wasn’t long after I arrived in Llanfryniog that he came here himself. I had had no idea that he was Welsh. One day I saw him in the village, and I knew in an instant who he was. I had my own reasons for not wanting him to recognize me. But I soon learned that he had come to Wales with the child. When I saw her for myself, even though it was from a distance when Mrs. Myfanawy was caring for her, I recognized her in an instant. There was no mistaking that hair. What the man and his girl were doing in Llanfryniog, I hadn’t an idea. I later heard that the mother, the girl called Morvern, had died and that he was a widower alone with his baby. But there’s no mistake that the child called Gwyneth Barrie was the same baby I delivered in Arklow.”
Again Murray paused and looked over the transcript. “All right then,” he said, rising from the desk. “I believe that is all I need for now. If I should need to question you further, Mr. Drummond, I believe, knows how to contact you.”
Again Madame Fleming shot Percy a hateful glance then lifted her ponderous bulk from the chair.
“If you would just sign here,” said Murray, handing her the pen.
She did so, with obvious displeasure.
“And you as well, Mr. Muir … and Mr. Drummond.”
Steven walked across the room, still stunned by the amazing turn of events, and also signed the paper, as did Percy.
Finally Murray added his own signature. “With the parish records you located,” he said to Percy, “along with the viscount’s affidavit, and now this … I believe Miss Barrie’s claim to be virtually unassailable. No court will overturn it.”
Percy escorted Madame Fleming, whose curiosity was heightened by Murray’s final words, out of the office and to the front door. They again climbed into the buggy, and he returned her to her home.
Not a word was spoken between them.
75
The Grandparents
Courtenay’s twenty-fifth birthday came and went without fanfare. He had not been seen since Percy’s and Gwyneth’s arrival.
It was a great relief, for the present at least, for Katherine to know that she would not be forced to depart for Glasgow in the immediate future. Several letters were dispatched to Percy’s parents, informing them of developments.
Percy and Gwyneth planned to leave Llanfryniog for Scotland as soon as they were certain that Katherine and Florilyn would find no unexpected notices of eviction slid under their doors during the night. In thoroughly reviewing the legalities of the case, Hamilton Murray assured them that Courtenay could make no move against them. In the extremely unlikely event that he should prevail in court, if the matter went that far, it would be months, if not years, before any change would be enforced. Gradually Katherine began to breathe more easily.
Two days after Courtenay’s birthday, Palmer Sutcliffe appeared at the manor requesting an interview with Katherine. He presented her with a legal demand for a return of £5,400 that had been paid to Courtenay, in two payments, the most recent £1,000 only two weeks previously, by Lord Litchfield as down payment for sale of one thousand acres of Westbrooke land. Katherine confessed herself completely unaware of the transaction. Be that as it may, rejoined Sutcliffe coolly, papers had been signed on behalf of the estate and a large amount of money had changed hands. If that amount was not returned within a week, said Sutcliffe, interest at 4 percent would commence, to be added to the balance monthly, along with legal proceedings against the Westbrooke estate for fraud. Stunned by the charge, Katherine did her best to preserve her outward calm. She said that she was very sorry Lord Litchfield had not been more careful and had entered into a transaction with her son when he had no legal power to act on behalf of the estate. However, she hardly saw what she was able to do about it. She suggested he speak with the manor’s solicitor. Another consultation between Katherine and Hamilton Murray followed almost immediately.
With their old friendship rekindled, drawn together on deeper spiritual levels by the blossoming maturity of their mutual womanhood, as well as by the fact that both had suffered at the hands of the same man, Florilyn and Rhawn saw one another nearly every day. The reciprocity of their friendship now sought more meaningful levels of communication and exchange than was possible when they were self-centered teens, for they now desired to become women of dignity and character. Gwyneth’s presence at the manor, too, drew the best out of Florilyn. Their former friendship resumed, and Rhawn could not but be drawn into it. It was not long before the three young women were the best of friends. In spite of the fact that Gwyneth was several years younger than both, the two older girls sensed her calm, soft-spoken, and mystical union with God, made all the more profound as she now entered the fullness of her womanhood. It was only natural that Florilyn and Rhawn looked to Gwyneth as the unspoken spiritual head of their threefold cord of friendship. She had been attuning herself to the subtleties of the inner voice all her life. She had learned much that still lay years in the future for them. When they prayed together, however, Gwyneth remained curiously silent. Most of her prayers were prayers of listening. What she had to say to God, she said in her heart.
One day when Rhawn appeared at the manor to visit her friends, she wore a strange look on her face. “I have a favor to ask,” she said.
Gwyneth and Florilyn waited.
“There is something I want to do … something I need to do. I am afraid of doing it alone. I have spoken with my parents, and they agree that it is time. I would like to ask the two of you to accompany me.”
The three left the manor for town a short while later. They stopped at the Lorimer home where Mr. Lorimer had a buggy hitched and ready. He greeted Florilyn and Gwyneth and took charge of their horses while Rhawn went into the house for her son. A short while later the three girls and young boy, with Rhawn at the reins, set out northward.
By the time they reached their destination, Florilyn and Gwyneth knew what was in Rhawn’s heart to do. At length Rhawn reined up in front of Burrenchobay Hall. With her friends at her side and her son’s hand in hers, they walked to the front door. When it opened, she asked the butler to see Mr. and Mrs. Burrenchobay.
The wait of two minutes seemed like ten. When at last they heard footsteps approaching, Florilyn and Gwyneth stepped back. Florilyn had her own reasons for being apprehensive. She had not seen Colville’s parents since breaking off the engagement. She had no idea what they might have been told.
What the butler had said, or whether they had suspected the truth before now, the expressions on the faces of the member of parliament and his wife were neither hostile nor unwelcoming. Lady Burrenchobay smiled, betraying slight nervousness. Her eyes flitted down to the boy at Rhawn’s side. Instantly her eyes filled as the years fell away and she found herself looking at the very image of her son twenty-two years before.
“Hello, Sir Armond … Lady Burrenchobay,” said Rhawn. “I know this is awkward, and I know you may hate me, and I won’t blame you if you do, but you need to know … this has waited far too long. I would like to introduce you to your grandson, Amren. Amren, dear, this woman is your grandmother, and this man is your grandfather.”
The boy smiled and nodded sheepishly, then held out his hand as he had obviously been told to do.
Swallowing hard and blinking a time or two, Sir Armond reached down and shook it. “A good firm handshake, my boy,” he said in a husky voice. “That is a sign of character. Good for you.”
Lady Burrenchobay, tears in her eyes, stooped down as her husband stood and stepped back. “Hello, Amren,” she said, desperately trying to keep from breaking down altogether. “I am so happy to know you. Would you like to come in and see our house, and perhaps have some biscuits and milk?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Amren. “Thank you very much.”
Lady Burrenchobay stood then turned t
o Rhawn and looked deep into her eyes. “Oh, my dear,” she said, taking a step forward and embracing Rhawn affectionately. “I am so sorry for what you have been through. Thank you so much!” When she stepped back, she and Rhawn were both weeping.
Rhawn forced a smile then turned. “You both know Florilyn,” she said.
“Yes … certainly, of course. Hello, Florilyn,” said Sir Armond. Neither of Colville’s parents knew the full details of what had transpired between Florilyn and their son. They only knew there had been some change. They did not yet know, however, that Florilyn had formally terminated the engagement.
“I would also like you to meet my friend, Gwyneth Barrie,” said Rhawn. “You will be hearing more about her, I am certain, in the future. Gwyneth, please meet Sir Armond Burrenchobay and Lady Burrenchobay.”
Gwyneth stepped forward, smiled, and shook hands with them both. “I am very pleased to meet you,” she said simply. The man and woman returned her smile, disarmed by her penetrating expression and countenance.
Lady Burrenchobay turned again to Rhawn. “Come in, my dear,” she said. “I think it is time you and I became better acquainted.”
Rhawn looked back at her two friends. She smiled as if to say, I will be okay now.
“Shall we come back for you later?” said Florilyn.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” said Sir Armond. “I will take Rhawn and the little fellow back to Llanfryniog. Perhaps you will stay and have tea with us, Rhawn,” he added to Rhawn. “Florilyn, if you would tell Styles that I will bring them home.”
76
The Storm
As the train pulled into the Glasgow station, Gwyneth stared out the window with wide-eyed anticipation.
“Do you remember that first day we met?” asked Percy beside her. “You said you wanted to see Glasgow one day. That’s why you asked my name … so you would know who to look for when you came to Glasgow. Well, here we are … and you know my name!”
Gwyneth laughed. “I remember,” she said. “I also said I wanted to visit London. Will you take me to London someday?”
“Your wish is my command!”
Having never before had occasion to meet Gwyneth when visiting Wales, Edward and Mary Drummond could not have been more delighted with their future daughter-in-law. After a few days in Glasgow, however, Gwyneth was anxious to see her father again. They had written him, but she wanted to tell him about everything that had happened in person.
She and Percy sailed from Glasgow to Dublin, where Codnor was waiting for them. Though the great change in her life was only a few weeks old, already there was an obvious change in Gwyneth’s countenance. What a reunion they had with him and Grannie! Grannie seemed about to die of happiness at the double blessing that had come to Gwyneth. Percy also took her to meet Father O’Leary. With him accompanying them, they paid a visit to Gwyneth’s aunt, Vanora Maloney, telling her about Percy’s climb up to Percy’s Table and revealing Gwyneth’s engagement to Percy but not the full details of her altered social status.
With Gwyneth now heir to Westbrooke Manor and its title, her future was obviously in Snowdonia. Her father and Grannie, too, were anxious to return to Wales. What to do with the house on the lower slopes of Lugnaquilla remained uncertain, though Codnor would sell his flock to neighboring sheep farmers at whatever price they could afford. He and Grannie, they said, would try to be ready to sail for Wales by summer. With their former cottages still vacant, both planned to return to life as it had been before. Learning of their plans, however, Katherine would hear nothing of it. They would come live at the manor, she insisted, where Grannie would be well cared for by loving hands and where Gwyneth’s father could help Steven with his duties and gradually replace aging Holin Radnor as the manor’s groom. Steven could not have been more excited at the prospect of working with his uncle. He had missed shepherding. And Adela was greatly anticipating sitting in the library with her brother and reminiscing about their grandfather’s library.
As for Katherine’s new house on Mochras Head, due to be completed within a year, it was obvious that Courtenay would not be displacing her from the manor, at least anytime soon. After wondering briefly if she had been too hasty in constructing a new home, Katherine realized that Gwyneth and Percy, as Master and Mistress of Westbrooke Manor, would one day want to have a family of their own and occupy the manor’s family quarters on the second floor. Therefore, she would herself take up residence in her new home whenever it suited Gwyneth for her to do so. Notwithstanding that she herself would be legal trustee of the estate until Gwyneth herself turned twenty-five, Katherine quickly began to defer to Gwyneth regarding future plans.
The glaring uncertainty about the future remained to be Courtenay. He returned from London after a month, clearly aware that the prospects of his legal contestation of Gwyneth’s position were not favorable. He was rarely seen. What his future held was anyone’s guess. Thus far, only Katherine knew of the financial dilemma facing him. Whether she would have bailed him out and cleared off his debt to Litchfield had she been able, she could not have said. But as her every available pound had been sunk into the construction of the new house, it would be two or three years before her resources would sufficiently accumulate to keep Courtenay from serious legal problems. If Litchfield pressed the matter to the extreme and brought charges of fraud against Courtenay, the specter of jail was not out of the question. But she did not see what she could do. She had no intention of asking for Edward’s help.
In late May, a month after Percy’s and Gwyneth’s return from Ireland, a tremendous storm blew in off the North Atlantic, consuming Ireland in wind and hurricane tides. The battering spread through the Irish Sea to the west coast of Scotland and Wales, threatening to flood their low-lying coastal villages. The fishermen of Llanfryniog secured their boats in the harbor as best they could and prepared to ride out the siege, hoping they would not find their boats in splinters when it was over.
The worst of the storm hit between three and five o’clock in the morning. Whether anyone in north Wales was still asleep was doubtful. Most lay awake in their beds, listening to the dreadful tempest doing its best to blow the roofs from their houses. Thankfully those roofs were of heavy Welsh slates!
Percy finally rose about six thirty, thinking himself likely the first in the great mansion to venture from his room. Instead, he found Florilyn and Katherine already in the breakfast room with tea. Mrs. Drynwydd had just put out a pot of fresh coffee.
Steven joined them a few minutes later. “Is the roof still on?” he laughed.
“I thought my window would burst,” said Florilyn. “I kept thinking the glass was about to shatter and the rain come splashing in all over my bed!”
“When it is light, Steven,” said Katherine, “we will have to check all the upper floors and the garret for leaks.”
“I will see to it, as well as the windows on the west and north of the building.”
“Where’s Gwyneth?” asked Percy, glancing about at the others. “I would expect her to be up at the crack of dawn. She loves tempestuous weather!”
“I think I heard her door close and footsteps in the hall,” said Florilyn.
“When?”
“Earlier … an hour or more ago.”
“Oh, no—then she’s out in it!” laughed Percy.
“Do you think she’s in any danger?” said Katherine.
“Not for a second,” answered Percy. “She could no more be in danger from the weather than Steven could from a sheep. She loves whatever face nature puts on and fears none of them, except snow in the mountains. She does have a healthy regard for the perils of winter.”
Percy went to the window and gazed out. The dawn was still dark and gray. Fierce winds whipped at the trees as if it would uproot them with a single blast. In spite of his words to Katherine, the sight sent a momentary shudder up his spine. This wind was stronger than he had ever seen. It could sweep Gwyneth off her feet in an instant. If she stood too near the cliff edge
or too close to the sea at the harbor … He shuddered to think what might be the result.
After a cup of coffee and a few minutes more conversation, he excused himself, hurried back to his room, bundled himself in what protection from the elements he could, grabbed a second rain slicker, and then left the house by the back stairs and side door.
A great blast of wind nearly knocked him over as he came round the side wall of the house and into the seaward brunt of the storm. Recovering himself, he set off down the drive toward the plateau, bending hard into the face of the tumult. There were only two places where he expected to find Gwyneth. This time he would check both.
The rain had let up since the worst of its drenching onslaught between midnight and three. Percy trudged across the spongy, soaked turf toward Katherine’s new house. As he passed the house, he could see clearly to the point of the promontory of Mochras Head. It was obvious that Gwyneth was not there or had been blown into the sea!
Percy turned toward town but then paused. He glanced back up at the newly constructed stone walls of Katherine’s proposed home. A dozen or more openings where the windows would be installed seemed to look out upon the coastline as if from dead, hollow eye sockets. One day this house would be full of life, Percy thought. Those window-eyes would gaze out upon the countryside with light from within. As yet, however, the edifice was an empty shell awaiting the life of human touch, in the same way that the human animal had been an empty shell until implanted with the soul-life of God’s divine touch.
Moved by some impulse, he turned and walked toward the house. He entered through one of several openings where doors, like the windows, would eventually be installed. He had been inside the house with Steven a time or two since his arrival back in Wales but had paid little attention to the details of its interior. Now he stood gazing about in the darkness of a stormy morning. All around him were the signs of construction—piles of boards, half-finished walls and ceilings, and bare floors. The wind whistled and sang through its many openings, up and down staircases, around corners, and through vacant rooms.
The Treasure of the Celtic Triangle- Wales Page 35
