Shock turned my mind upside down, pulsing through my worn-out body, then slowly righted it as everything began to make sense in waves of understanding. Cassius. He was Cassius. I looked into the troubled eyes of this man I’d known my whole life, seeing traces of that same brokenness that existed in the eyes of the young painted boy. Time and change had faded the intensity, but it was there, hanging about the fringes of his expression, never fully erased.
“Dig up that ‘grave’ you found in the woods and you’ll find nothing but a little box of papers and deeds bearing the name Cassius Malvern. No body lies there, because it’s right here.”
Could it possibly be true? Staring up at him with wonder, I reached up to slide my fingers along his weathered cheek in a gentle caress. His expression melted at my touch, his eyes sliding closed. Here before me stood the forgotten, misunderstood, isolated boy—all grown up into a man who was just as lonely.
“I’m so glad, Father. You’ve no idea how I wished I’d had the chance to love that boy out of his loneliness.” I placed my tiny hand on his massive chest where his heart thumped. “And now I can.”
At those words, he gathered me close in his arms, fully encircling me with his massive frame, and bowed his head onto mine, resting his chin on my hair. He held me thus for several perfect moments, his heart thudding against my cheek.
I closed my eyes in disbelief. Was this truly my father clinging to me so? Even in my dreams it hadn’t felt this wonderful, this engulfing. In that moment, I was wet and itchy with sand, poorer than the men who labored in our fields, and on the verge of losing the vineyard, yet all I could think of was little girl dreams and chicken bone wishes.
His embrace tightened, anchoring me to his warm body. “You are a greater blessing to this lonely, broken old man than you could ever imagine.”
When he released me, I spoke. “Did you find life with the new graft?”
“Peace. I found peace. Which is as much as I could hope for. I borrowed the name Josiah Harlowe from a worker passing through the area who served in the vineyards for a few seasons. My father dismissed him when we got on well and he became my only true friend. Father made it out to be a disagreement between myself and the man, simply to have reason to dismiss him so I would not have a friend so ‘beneath me.’ I never had another.”
“What made you so disconnected from everyone, Father? Why did you lock yourself away up in that tower years ago if you were truly so lonely? I’d thought from your notebooks that it was because you felt cursed with poverty, but you were never that.”
“I do have a sort of curse over me. Yet it isn’t poverty but wealth that has ruined my life, tainting every relationship.” He brushed strands of hair off my face. “Tressa, since I’ve been gone, Trevelyan has been swarming with people wishing to help, eager to befriend. How has it felt to watch every one of them slowly reveal his true motive? To face danger from your friends? To constantly wonder what everyone dear to you truly wants? Now imagine your entire life being thus.”
“Oh Father.” I breathed the words from the pain in my heart. “How lonely you must have been. I understand all too well. Neville and Ellen, Andrew Carrington . . .” I glanced back over the still-choppy waters and trembled hard. “I even considered Dr. Caine a good friend, yet he—”
“Was a Malvern.”
I gasped. “How could that be?”
“I’m not certain of it, but he claimed years ago to be my father’s illegitimate son, born before me. Thus, the true heir. He pretended to befriend me in our youth, and later told me who he was. He was one of the many reasons I had to do away with Cassius. Yet somehow he must have found me again, found out who I really was.”
I closed my eyes as a terrible ache rolled through me. “Poor man. What a wretched end to his life.” I forced myself to look away from the deadly waters. “What of your parents? Your money was their money, so they wouldn’t have tried to take anything from you. Weren’t they—”
“Utterly consumed with their lives? Yes. Wealth is a jealous lover. When it turned out their son was not going to make an impressive showpiece among their peers . . .” His voice hitched as the thought trailed away on the breeze. “They tried to train me once, when I was young. They brought me to Trevelyan and taught me how to be stingy and overbearing with the laborers, but as you know I failed utterly. We never returned to Trevelyan after that summer of my thirteenth year. My parents labeled me slow-witted and eventually left me alone. Years later when they’d both died, I returned to this land of vineyards and life with a new identity and a lovely bride who, as it turned out, saw no more value in me than what I had in the bank.”
He cast his gaze out to the water. “Most people eventually hurt you if you wait long enough, but vines never do. They can be scientifically managed and they require nothing but time and attention. People are selfish and unreliable.” He smiled down at me. “Except for you, it seems. How I adored my little sprite of a girl who ran barefoot in my beloved vineyard.”
“You shut me out.” I said the words quietly, factually, despite the years of pain they represented.
“You asked about the fortune more and more. Asked about it until you seemed obsessed.”
“With secrets and hiding places and . . . and you.” I released his hand. “What changed your mind about me?”
Without a word, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. With steady fingers he opened it and held it out as the breeze pulled at its edges. “What you said about Cassius the night you found me . . . and this.”
There on the paper was the sketch that portrayed the dear father I glimpsed in those rare moments of connection. I gave a little cry and took the familiar drawing to look closer. Scars and wrinkles had been blended with the strong facial features and rugged handsomeness on the page. “Where did you get this?”
“Donegan Vance gave it to me just after lecturing me on the great inner beauty and virtue of my daughter.”
I gulped.
“I believe he went on for six or seven minutes and he had no shortage of things to say on the matter.”
“He truly does care, doesn’t he?” I spoke the words with a sort of wonder, after all that had occurred between us. How many rejections had he endured before he delivered that speech?
“It nearly killed him to keep my secret, especially after meeting you. He stormed into that cabin, demanding to know why I’d put such a girl through the grief of my death.”
“It was because Dr. Caine tried to kill you. You hid on the island, and Donegan . . .”
“Protected my life by keeping me hidden.”
I frowned. “But then he stole from you.”
“Don’t let that money tear you apart from the man waiting for you up that path. It’s been nothing but a curse to my entire life. I consider it a blessing that he’s taken it from my grasp. As I said before, he did it for noble reasons.”
I sighed. “It’s amazing how one single trunk can wreak havoc on so many lives.”
“Trunk? Which trunk is that?”
“Your treasure chest. The big black one with the fortune and the will.”
He whipped his windblown hair off his forehead. “A black chest with metal banding?”
“That’s the one.” I huddled against the rocks as the wind chilled me. “Donegan found it in your old workshop. It was his—”
“Tressa.” He looked down at me with the light of amusement in his face. “What exactly did you find in that trunk?”
“Your will, and the remains of your fortune.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, very.” Then I remembered the little pouch with the foreign money. I fumbled about the wet yards of cloth until I found it, still tied to my belt, and pulled it open. “Here’s a portion of it. This is what old Prescott wouldn’t accept because they’re foreign bank notes.”
Father held out his hand for the wilted, wet notes and examined them. “Cornwall.” He raised his eyebrows. “I hear it’s a beaut
iful place, but I’ve never been. I believe it was Donegan Vance who told me all about the vineyards there, where he’d grown up.”
I gasped, stiffening. “You mean this foreign money is his? But why would he—”
“That trunk you found contained my personal income, which grew or shrank with each harvest. A few months ago it ran out entirely and I had to borrow from Prescott. The last harvest failed and I wasn’t even able to pay my staff. I was about to find a way to bring in more when Caine found me. So you see, when Donegan Vance found that trunk . . . it was empty.”
“Empty.” I breathed out the single word as understanding dawned in painful rays of truth. “And then somehow it had exactly what we needed to pay the debt. Oh Father, he must have given us nearly everything he had. And there’s no fortune, so I can never repay him.”
“Oh, I do believe you can.” His tender glance shone down on me. “Do you recall that tapestry of the vine?” Taking my sketch and a small pencil from his pocket, he flipped the paper over and with the nub of the pencil he quickly outlined the same image that had captivated me—the twisting vine trunk and the long branches extending out like arms. The sight gave me chills. “Now step back here.” Together we strode away from the rocks and back onto the beach where the wind had died down to a muggy breeze. My feet sank into the sand with each step until he stopped me and turned me about to face the rocks and Trevelyan beyond it. “Look up there and tell me what you see.”
“I see the estate. The castle.”
Then he held the rough drawing out before me, just under Trevelyan in the distance. Suddenly the outline of the vine and two posts melded in my vision with the three towers of Trevelyan. I gasped. “It’s Trevelyan.” I looked at Father, wonder making my head spin.
“And the source of all life is stored inside the vine.” His pencil flicked over the paper again, drawing a little cellar door at the base of the vine, and steps below it. “Years ago, during the time of the Glyndwr Rising in the Hundred Years’ War, Welsh rebels crossed the channel into the surrounding area and the Malverns decided to bury their fortune to protect it. Every generation was taught to mistrust everyone and guard the fortune with everything they had. My father invested some of it but removed it again in the bank crash of 1825 and returned it to its hiding place.” When he’d finished, he held it out to me with a solemn smile and enfolded my hand over it. “Daughter, my dear, precious Tressa, I give you this great abundance of possibilities—the Malvern fortune.”
Welling with emotion, I looked up into his aging face and hardly knew what to say.
“For the first time in its existence, this money has not broken a bond but proven it. And now, it will not crush but bless—through your hand. I could not bear to touch it all these years, the way it has destroyed so much that is good, but I believe you are strong enough to bear the weight of such a fruit. So now I give to you the great wealth of the Malverns, with my blessing. Take it and paint the world with the beautiful colors of your soul.” He smiled tenderly and moisture gathered in the creases beside his eyes.
Overwhelmed, awed, I slipped my arms around his great body and embraced him once again. His arms came around me and he held me close. For that moment, the cresting waves and distant birds were the only thing to intrude. Then, in silence, we walked together up the path toward home. When we reached the top, the lone figure of Donegan Vance stood off in the distance, watching over the vineyard that was now empty of workers.
We veered toward the woods and Father stopped in its shadows, turning me toward Donegan. “Go and talk to your young man, Tressa girl. If I could wish anything for you in this life, it would be for you to marry well. To find someone who feels about you the way I felt about your mother when I met her. Just make certain of one difference.”
“What’s that?”
He laid a hand on my shoulder. “That you feel the same way.” He smiled down at me with such tender sorrow that I thought my heart would break.
I lowered my gaze and sighed. “I’m overwhelmed with love for this man.” Even his flaws, that direct nature that had so bothered me before, only evidenced further the absolute trueness of his whole being. Though he’d been so anxious to learn how to soften his words, I almost found the memory of his candor and bluntness endearing in that moment. The powerful authenticity of his very nature stood like an anchor in the shifting waters.
“Then go to him. Love him.” When I stepped back, his lips twitched in a smile of amusement. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must break the news of my survival to my wife.”
With one final glance toward Father’s retreating form moving through the woods, I turned toward the sloping vineyards and Donegan. Overwrought and exhausted, my mind discarded so many unimportant things and allowed me to focus on the one task outweighing everything else—repairing what I’d broken.
My heart swelled at the sight of the strong, familiar figure in tall black boots looking over the vineyard he’d worked to bring back to life. Millions of words swirled in my mind as I approached, and any number of them might spill out when I reached him.
When I stood several paces behind him and he turned, a gentle welcome lighting that chiseled face, I couldn’t voice any of it. Numerous thoughts clogged my throat. Here was the man I’d weighed and corrected, shaping him into what I deemed acceptable. Meanwhile he’d simply laid down himself and everything he possessed as a gentleman’s cloak across the puddle of my troubles and allowed me to walk across it without ever knowing on what I trod.
I strode directly to him, planted my toes against the tips of his boots, and reached up to draw him down toward me. When he came near, I threw my arms about his neck and captured his lips with mine, kissing him with the passion of everything overflowing from my heart.
Immediately his arms slid around me, holding me to him as he deepened the kiss with gentle longing, and I was consumed then by the magnitude of his affection for me, the richness of the authentic love he offered me. When I thought I’d drown in the moment, he lifted me off the ground and spun me around with delight and rained kisses over my face. I pulled away and laughed, smiling up into his shining eyes. He said nothing, but his face revealed a great deal. Surprise and wonder had settled there, but most obvious was the glow of his deepest longings being realized. He set me gently on the ground, still staring at me with that powerful gaze.
I lifted my hand to the stubble on his face and his jaw twitched under my fingertips. “It seems I have made you quite poor.”
“Perhaps. But in doing so you’ve made me richer than I ever was.” He kissed my open palm that had caressed his cheek. “I feared losing it until the moment I chose to give it up. Since then I’ve walked in such freedom I cannot explain it.”
“What on earth made you do such a thing?”
For several moments, only the distant sound of the waves hissing over sand filled my senses, and then he spoke a single word. “God.”
I shifted back to study his face. “God?”
“I knew he wanted me to help you with something. For weeks he prodded me, but I didn’t understand what he had in mind. Eventually he made it clear that he was asking me to give up my money so you could keep Trevelyan.” He looked down and kicked at loose soil. “I didn’t understand it at first. Why would I give the small fortune it had taken me years to accumulate, the money I so desperately needed, to a girl who lived in a castle? It made no sense, but the order was clear, so I finally obeyed, trusting him for what was needed. It was only in the act of giving it up that I realized how tightly I had been holding onto it, and it brought me freedom to let go.”
I smiled and rested my face against his chest, embracing him tightly. God had a way of pruning off anything that came between himself and his children, it seemed. I’d experienced it too and somehow I was grateful for it. “So. You truly have nothing?”
He looked down at me and brushed my cheek with his knuckles. “How do you feel about living in a poor little cottage?”
“Does it at least have a do
or?”
Relief flooded his face and he smiled with overwhelming tenderness. “My, but you’re demanding.” He reached his solid arms around me again and held me close for a long minute, then stroked my damp hair down my back. “I cannot bring you into my poverty and debt. There are so many problems I must deal with before I have any right to ask you to join me.”
“Don’t be foolish.” I smiled against his chest. “Was it your money that came alongside me every time I had need? Did it care for my injured feet in the woods or fix that roof in the village?”
“Poverty is not as romantic as you think. You’ve never experienced it.”
I slid out of his arms and caught up his hand in mine, tugging him along. “Come.” I led him solemnly up to Trevelyan, through the courtyard, and down the five steps into the base of the well tower, lifting a candle from its holder along the courtyard wall. In the privacy of the dirt-floored pump room, I fumbled for a box of matches and lit the candle, holding the soft light between us in the dark. “Follow me.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.” I unfolded the paper and held the light up to Father’s rough sketch. We walked through the room to the little water closet in back. There in the tiny space was a cellar door disguised to blend in with the rough wood floor, exactly where Father’s diagram said it would be. Donegan wedged it open and together we climbed down the narrow cellar steps slick with moss, the candle’s glow gliding over the crude walls hugging us on both sides.
When at last we reached the bottom, we stepped into a great dungeon of a room and I clung to Donegan’s hand. “This is it. This is what we didn’t even know to search for. It’s the legendary Malvern fortune.” I lifted the candle, shoving it farther into the room, and the sight captured my breath. The meager glow highlighted giant piles of coins and valuables, glinting off polished surfaces. I ran to a low-hanging wooden chandelier and lit it with my candle, magnifying the room’s light. Together we stood among greater wealth than I’d ever imagined possible. Heaps of coins, crates and barrels filled with all manner of money and valuables, all winked back at us in the light.
A Rumored Fortune Page 31
