Feeling his chest against her back and his arms around her midsection gave Gwyneth a feeling of happy power as she took the reins. She urged Grey Tide forward. Within minutes they were descending steeply. Percy still caught no glimpse of the lake.
Gwyneth led down through a rocky narrow wooded ravine. The cliff of granite loomed higher and higher above them as they descended into what was obviously a deep valley, though the trees and boulders surrounded them so closely on all sides that they could not see the bottom of it.
Finally Gwyneth stopped. “We must go no closer,” she whispered. “They will hear Grey Tide’s hooves and will know she is not one of them. We will walk the rest of the way.”
Carefully they dismounted. Percy tied the reins to a tree. Gwyneth crept forward, making not a sound. Percy followed. After eight or ten minutes, the trees began to thin in front of them. Finally Gwyneth stopped. Percy drew alongside.
In the distance, some fifty yards away in a clearing beyond the trees, spread over with a carpet of lush green grass, ten or fifteen horses grazed peacefully. A few deer were also about. Rabbits occasionally scurried by. In the distance, Percy could just make out a glistening surface of translucent blue.
Neither said a word. They watched in silence for ten minutes.
Percy knew that alone, and crooning the otherworldly melody he had heard before, Gwyneth would have been able to make a closer approach. But he would never see these magnificent beasts closer than he was beholding them now.
It was a holy moment of oneness with creation that comes for most but once or twice in a lifetime. Yet Gwyneth Barrie seemed to live within that oneness all the days of her life.
56
Invitation and Ride
Percy did not arrive back at the manor until midafternoon.
By the time lunch was concluded and still with no sign of him, Florilyn had retired to her room, a little perturbed, it is true, for she suspected that Percy had gone to the village. Every hour that went by demonstrated more clearly than ever that he was more eager to visit his peasant friends after three years than spend time with her. She had tried to read but was agitated. With the afternoon sun streaming through the west-facing window of her room, she had finally dozed.
When she went downstairs and outside again some time later, she found Percy atop her father’s new stables, bare-chested and perspiring freely, holding one end of a massive roof timber in place while two laborers secured it at the ends.
She approached and looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “Percy, what are you doing up there?” she called out.
“What does it look like?” Percy yelled down. “We’re putting the roof on.”
“But why you? You’re not a laborer. You don’t get paid.”
“I’m not doing it to get paid but to help your father. Besides, this is great fun! I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in years.”
“But … your hands—what if you get hurt or something?”
“A few blisters and a scrape or two—who wants lily-white hands that don’t know how to work? Not me!”
“Where were you all morning?”
“I went for a ride.”
“Where?”
“Up to see Stevie Muir,” said Percy. In the time since he had left that morning, he had decided to be completely straightforward. “Gwyneth told me that his father is seriously ill. I wanted to visit them without delay … just in case, you know.”
“When did you see Gwyneth?”
“Last night as she was leaving. I was amazed to find her working here! That was so kind of you to arrange for her to have a job, Florilyn. I am proud of you! She and I rode up to see the Muirs this morning.”
“Oh … I was hoping to have a ride with you.”
“So was I,” said Percy. “But I thought it important to go to the Muirs as soon as possible. Now we’ve got to get these roof timbers set today. Maybe we could go with lunch tomorrow. Let’s take that same ride from last time … you know, our first long ride together—but with me staying in the saddle this time!”
His enthusiasm mollified Florilyn’s feelings that might, had the conversation gone differently, produced an outcome more reminiscent of the Florilyn of former days. No one had ever said the words “I am proud of you” to Florilyn Westbrooke in her life. She didn’t know how to react, whether to receive them with quiet gratitude or take offense that one whom the pride of her past might have considered her social inferior could be proud of her. To her credit, she swallowed her perplexity, agreed to Percy’s suggestion, and returned to the house.
On the following morning, as Percy and Florilyn were getting ready for their ride, a messenger arrived from Burrenchobay Hall.
Florilyn recognized the man on horseback as Richard Hawarden, Sir Armond’s groom. Seeing an envelope in his hand, her natural curiosity was aroused, and she walked toward him as he dismounted. “Hello, Mr. Hawarden,” she said, approaching from behind.
The groom turned. “Good mornin’ tae ye, Miss Florilyn.”
“What do you have there?”
“An invitation, my leddy—tae Mistress Davina’s birthday party.” He handed the envelope to Florilyn.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Very good, Miss Florilyn,” he said and returned to his horse.
Florilyn opened the envelope and read the engraved card inside.
Percy walked up behind her.
“It seems we’ve all been invited to an event at Burrenchobay Hall,” she said. “You are specifically included. If I didn’t know better, I would think that scheming little Davina has eyes for you, Percy.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“You are quite the topic of conversation around here, you know … the handsome mysterious stranger from the north. Davina must have asked me ten times when you would be back.”
Percy laughed again. “She’s just a kid.”
“Not anymore! She’s sixteen next week. Believe me, she could go to London next season, no questions asked, and easily pass for eighteen. You talk about marriage proposals—she could scoop them in like flies to honey.”
“Then maybe I should turn down my portion of the invitation,” said Percy. “That family and yours … it’s too complicated! I don’t want to get in the middle of it. I’m not much for high society stuff anyway. I’ll leave all that to you aristocrats.”
Now it was Florilyn’s turn to laugh. “We’ll worry about Davina later. Let me take this invitation inside to my mother,” she said. “Then we can be off.”
Two hours later, the cousins arrived at the same level meadow that Percy recognized from their ill-fated ride three years earlier.
“I would never have found my way here alone,” he said. “But I know this place well enough now that I see it. Ah, the memories come flooding back! Maybe it’s my turn to challenge you to a race to the top,” said Percy playfully.
“No, thank you. My racing days are over,” said Florilyn in a quieter tone. “After what happened on the beach, the memory is too painful. I wouldn’t mind if we rode together to the top. Then we can have lunch there.”
“Sounds good to me. Let’s go!”
Percy dug in his heels and galloped off across the grass. Florilyn followed and soon drew alongside. She looked across at him with a happy smile, eyes filled with fun, but without the twinkle of challenge she might have thrown him before. Both were content to ride beside one another. For the rest of the distance across the flat, they pushed their mounts but remained side by side.
“When we reach the wood,” Percy called out, “you take the lead. I’m not sure I know the way.”
Florilyn nodded.
Five or ten minutes later, stopping briefly at the stream to water the horses, and after navigating the woods and steep incline without incident, they crested the ridge.
“That was great!” exclaimed Percy as they eased the two mares to a gentle walk, looking about at the familiar sight. “It is nice still to be aboard after that c
limb.”
Though the ridge was mostly rocky, they found a patch of tolerably soft grass where the twin mares could graze. They dismounted, tied the horses to the nearby shrubbery, and set out the simple lunch things they had brought.
“It is so quiet here,” said Percy as they sat together. “I wouldn’t know which direction the sea lay. In fact … I don’t know!” He laughed.
“It’s there,” said Florilyn pointing, “straight west.”
“How would I know which way is west?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been out riding these hills for so long, I just know.”
“It must have been wonderful to grow up here,” said Percy, taking a bite out of an apple. “Not that I’m complaining. But the city—especially a place like Glasgow—it’s nothing like this.”
“And now you’ve traded one city for another.”
“I suppose you’re right. Unfortunately that’s where they put the universities. So if you want an education, to the city you must go.”
“How many years do you have left in Aberdeen?” asked Florilyn.
“Three. I’ve only got one year under my belt so far.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s hard work, but yes—I do. I love studying and learning.”
“What will you do … I mean when you’ve graduated?”
“I’m not sure yet. I am looking into engineering. I had thought about being a minister, too, like my dad.”
“The Reverend Percy Drummund,” said Florilyn slowly, trying out the sound of it. “Somehow it doesn’t quite have the right ring. I think it would have to be the Reverend Percival Drummond.”
“You’re right.” He laughed. “Percy isn’t exactly right. What about for a solicitor? I’m also thinking of studying law, if God doesn’t lead me into the ministry.”
“I think you’ll definitely need the Percival on the door of a solicitor’s office.”
“What about you, my dear Florilyn?” asked Percy.
“What about me?”
“You’ve turned into such a lady since I saw you. What are your plans?”
“Women don’t have plans.”
“Some do. Women making their mark in the world are all the rage these days. At university, some are saying that women will even vote in the not too distant future.”
“Vote … women?”
“That’s what they say.”
“I can hardly believe that.”
“Maybe you’re right. It may never go that far. Nobody can see the future. Still, don’t you have any plans?”
“There we are back to what I said before—women don’t have plans. Men have plans, women get married.”
“Bluntly put!” Percy laughed. “I guess you’re right. So what does a pretty young woman like you do—just wait around until, like you said at dinner the other evening, the right man comes calling at your door?”
“I suppose that’s about it.”
“What if the right man never comes along?”
“Then a girl’s got a big problem. She either gets more desperate as the years go by, or eventually she settles for second best.”
“I was under the impression three years ago that you had every young man for miles wrapped around your little finger.”
Florilyn smiled almost wistfully. “Maybe I did.” She nodded reflectively. “I probably could marry several of them even now. But I’ve changed since then. I’m not so anxious to see a ring on my finger.”
“You are changed. I saw it immediately. There is a quietness about you now. You seem content with yourself.”
“I suppose I am … mostly. But aren’t all girls a little insecure deep inside, wondering what people think of them?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a girl.”
“That is undeniably true!” Florilyn laughed. She paused and seemed to be thinking whether to say what had come to her mind. She glanced away.
Percy could tell she was embarrassed. He waited.
“Percy,” she said after a moment, “do you—what you said before—do you really think I’m pretty?”
“Yes, I do. You are very attractive. Why?”
“I don’t know. A girl never really knows what she looks like to people. You can look in a mirror for hours, but you don’t really know. Everyone wants to be pretty. But you can’t really trust what boys tell you. Half of them are such liars, and the other half are so shy they’re afraid of their own shadows.”
Percy laughed to hear such a characterization of his sex.
“All those young men you said had eyes for me … they were just trying to get me to like them and pay attention to them. Colville Burrenchobay—what a big oaf. All he wanted was to touch me and kiss me. Ugh! It makes me sick to think of it! How can I believe anything someone like that tells me?”
“So why did you ask me?”
“Because you’re different, Percy. You say what you mean and mean what you say. You would never toy with a girl. I don’t think you would even know how to. You’re too real, too honest.”
“I guess I never thought about it one way or another.”
“Once I began to see you for who you were, you know … once I was through being nasty to you, I realized how shallow all the other young men were. I got tired of the games, of them trying to impress me and telling me I was pretty. I got tired of trying to impress them, too. Their words meant nothing. But coming from you … it means a lot. Thank you.”
“Sure.” Percy smiled.
“It was your coming here that changed me, you know, Percy. Like it or not, it’s all your fault!” she added with a grin.
“That’s quite a burden to put on a chap! So … you said you were waiting for the right kind of young man. How will you know?”
“I don’t know.” Florilyn smiled thoughtfully. “Do you ever really know ahead of time?”
“Probably not. I see what you mean.”
“It’s not as if you can prepare a form and ask them to tick all the boxes. It’s not so cut-and-dried as all that.”
“What are you looking for, then?”
Florilyn hesitated before answering. “Honestly?” she said at length.
“Of course.”
“Say what I mean and mean what I say?”
Percy nodded.
“I suppose I am looking for someone … not so very different from you, Percy.”
Now it was Percy’s turn to grow thoughtful.
“You are considerate and fun to be around,” Florilyn went on. “But you have a serious side, too. I can talk to you and laugh with you. You can’t do that with everyone. No matter what happens, I know that you will be a gentleman.”
“No one has ever called me a gentleman before.”
“Well, you are. You can take it from a young woman who has met dozens of young men who aren’t.”
Again it grew silent.
“So, I will turn the question around—what about you?” said Florilyn. “Do you see lots of young women in Aberdeen—bonnie Scots lassies … parties and socializing every night?”
“I’m afraid not,” replied Percy. “There are a few young ladies in the church I attend.”
“Anyone special?”
Percy smiled. “No,” he answered. “They’re nice enough. But no one special.”
57
Interlude
Several days had passed since Percy’s arrival.
He had gone to the village every day, visited with the men at the harbor, been in all the shops, gone into Mistress Chattan’s for several pints, and talked and laughed with the local fishermen and farmers and miners. He never went to Llanfryniog without tea with Grannie.
He ran into Chandos Gwarthegydd at his father’s blacksmith’s shop. As Stevie had said, Chandos showed signs of becoming as muscular as his father. The lad, now fifteen, was well capable of wielding his tools and keeping the fire in the forge glowing hot with coal. He could fashion a shoe for a horse as well as any blacksmith in Wales. He and Percy quickly formed a great friendship
.
Seeing Gwyneth, however, was not so easy as before. Percy longed to walk and ride with her out on the hills and along the beach and to listen to her delightful, simple, humble talk about nature and God and animals and her special places.
But that became more difficult now that she was working at the manor. He couldn’t simply drop in on her anytime as he had before. Nor did he so often find her at Grannie’s. Neither could he interrupt her in the midst of her work. She had responsibilities now. He was on holiday. Gwyneth was not.
Even so, there were other demands on his time, too—as he quickly became one of the regular workers on the new stables. He was not obligated to maintain the work schedule of the hired men. But he enjoyed the project. Besides learning new skills, he was enjoying enormously working beside the humble Welshmen. He had only seen Courtenay two or three times, and then briefly.
He encountered Gwyneth from time to time as she went about her duties. She always glanced shyly away or greeted him simply as she passed.
Finally toward the end of one day, Percy saw her carrying a stack of towels on her way up to the family living quarters.
He had been lingering on the landing of the first floor, absently staring at the dozen or so portraits lining the walls of the main staircase. His eyes had again been arrested by the compelling expression and penetrating eyes of the woman his uncle had commented on during the first week of his previous visit. Every time he looked up at the image of her face, the woman’s gaze drew him as if she were veritably alive. He found her gazing down at him every time he ascended or descended the stairs.
Hearing a step on the ground floor below, even as he was looking at the face of Lord Snowdon’s grandmother, Percy glanced toward the sound. There was Gwyneth walking up the stairs. She was staring straight into his eyes.
For a moment, Percy gazed back stunned, then quickly looked back at the portrait. His face drained of color. The next moment the shocking revelation of what he had seen was interrupted by Gwyneth’s voice.
From Across the Ancient Waters- Wales Page 29
