From Across the Ancient Waters (43 page)

“I will keep it for
you
, then. But it will always be yours.”

Finally launching himself through the door and out into the storm, Percy sprinted for the road then up the hill. When he arrived at the manor ten minutes later, he was drenched to the skin.

Uncle and Nephew

T
he stormy night passed fitfully for Roderick Westbrooke, viscount Lord Snowdon.

The previous night he had slept like a baby, relieved as he grew more and more convinced in his mind that Percy was innocent of Rhawn Lorimer’s charges. But gradually the other topic of the conversation that had taken place in his study returned to haunt him.

Percy’s words from a day before played themselves over and over all night in his brain.
Your people would love you if you gave them half a chance. … But you never go near them
.

The young blackguard had put his finger exactly on the nub of his discomfort with his position. He avoided the very people who depended on him, and upon whom he was likewise dependent for what meager income their rents provided.

The boy’s manliness in refusing to defend himself … it had enraged him. Yet what a stout show of character!

In spite of his sleeplessness, yet also because of it, the viscount rose early. He felt that it was a day of new beginnings. He made an unexpectedly early appearance in the breakfast room.

The storm had passed and the day dawned cloudless and bright. The danger to Grannie’s life had passed, and with it so had the tumult.

Percy and his aunt were the only others present, chatting over their tea and eggs and toast. Things seemed to be gradually returning to their former ways. There was still no sign of Florilyn.

“Ah, Percy, my boy … your last day in Wales, what?” said the viscount as he entered with unusual bounce to his step.

“Yes, sir. I am already feeing the sadness of departure coming over me.”

“What do you have planned for the day?”

“I don’t know—say my farewells, I suppose.”

“How about you and I going for a ride together?”

“I would like that, Uncle Roderick.”

“And, er … about that matter we discussed—the Lorimer girl. I told Katherine what you said. We are both in agreement—we
do
know you are innocent. You have proved yourself, and we know what mettle you are made of. You are right—sometimes silence is the best defense. I am sorry I doubted you.”

“Thank you, Uncle Roderick. I appreciate that very much.”

“After lunch, then?”

“I will look forward to it.”

The ride that afternoon was not what Percy had expected. The apology seemed to have filled his uncle with new energy. He was in a rambunctious mood in the saddle, galloping with abandon, jumping streams recklessly. He was a skilled horseman, and Percy could hardly keep up with him.

“Easy, Uncle Roderick!” Percy laughed more than once as his uncle wobbled and nearly lost his seat. “Now I know where Florilyn gets her nerve in the saddle.”

“I never felt better in my life, Percy, my boy. I feel like a young man again!”

On their way back, the viscount slowed, and they rode side by side together. They were still a good distance northeast of the manor.

“You know, Percy, my boy,” said his uncle, “it has been a genuine pleasure to have you here this summer. Even more so than last time.”

“Thank you, Uncle Roderick. I have enjoyed it, too. I appreciate your hospitality.”

“I know my daughter has taken most of your time, but I have greatly enjoyed your company. I would say that I got the better half of the bargain—all your help with the stables—wouldn’t you?”

“I had a great time. I wish I could stay longer. But I have a job waiting for me in Aberdeen.”

“You are a responsible young man. I’m sure your father is very proud. And,” he went on, clearing his throat, “I must repeat my apology for doubting you in the matter of that unfortunate business with the Lorimer girl. I knew better, of course. I was far too hasty to judge you.”

“Think nothing of it, Uncle Roderick.”

“But I feel bad about it. I had no right. Nevertheless, ‘all’s well that ends well,’ as you are fond of saying.”

“One of the two quotes from Shakespeare I know!” Percy laughed.

“What do you think of my daughter, Percy, my boy?” asked the viscount abruptly.

“I don’t know, Uncle Roderick. In what way?”

“As a girl, you know—a young woman.”

“I am very fond of her. We got off to a bit of a rocky start three years ago. But she and I have become the best of friends. I think a great deal of her.”

The viscount took in his words thoughtfully.

Again they rode for a while in silence.

“You were right, too, Percy, my boy,” the viscount began again, “about what you said about my contacts with the local peasantry. I have been far too distant. It took courage for you to look me in the eye and tell me that. You have helped me see the thing clearly. Isn’t the Muir place around here somewhere?”

“Why yes? Uncle Roderick. It’s probably a mile or two.”

“Will you take me there and introduce me to the woman, the widow. I would like to see her.”

“You will hardly need an introduction.”

“Still, it might be awkward. I would feel better if you eased the way into it for me.”

“Then I will be happy to.” Percy veered off slightly to the left from the course they had been pursuing and led the rest of the way until the familiar cottage came into view.

They rode up. Stevie did not appear to be about, though two dogs ran barking toward them. The viscount appeared concerned.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Roderick,” said Percy, jumping down. “These lads know me … don’t you, boys?” he said, stooping and roughing up the backs and heads of the tail-waggers with his hands. “Of course they’ll have to take a little sniff of you,” he said as his uncle dismounted. “It’s their way of introducing themselves.”

Moments later they were approaching the open door of the humble cottage.

As he began to duck down and walk inside, Gwyneth’s aunt appeared.

“Why, Percy,” she exclaimed, “what brings you—” Her words died on her lips as she saw the man walking up behind him.

“I’ve brought you a visitor, Mrs. Muir,” said Percy. “He wanted to meet you. This is—”

“I know well enough who it is,” interrupted Adela. “Welcome to you, sir … Lord Snowdon, sir.”

“Percy has told me about your husband, Mrs. Muir,” said the viscount a little nervously but with genuine feeling. He removed his riding cap and attempted an awkward smile. “I am sorry.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Adela, her initial shock now giving way to her natural hospitality. “Won’t you come in for a cup of tea?”

“We, uh … I don’t think—” began the viscount.

“We would love to,” said Percy.

“I’m sorry I don’t have any fancy cakes or the like to offer you, sir,” said Adela, leading them through the door into her kitchen.

“Mrs. Muir, your oatcakes are the best in Wales,” said Percy. “I would have nothing else with tea even if you offered it to me.”

They sat down at the table. Adela bustled about in a veritable panic of excitement to have the viscount under her roof. “How I wish my Glythvyr could have been here. He would have loved to see you, sir.”

“I am sorry,” replied the viscount. “I should not have waited so long to pay you a visit.”

“Bless you, sir. He used to work at the manor as a lad, you know. For your father. He was fond of your father, he was.” She poured out tea.

Stevie arrived a few minutes later, with equal astonishment to see who was sitting in his kitchen. The conversation continued to flow pleasantly.

After about thirty minutes, Percy judged that sufficient initial spadework had been done in his uncle’s heart for one day. He rose and said that it was time they were leaving. He had much to do to prepare for his departure on the morrow. Hugs, handshakes, and tearful farewells followed. Who knew when Percy would visit the beloved cottage in the hills again?

“I know it will be difficult for you, losing your husband,” said the viscount as they prepared to return to their horses. “You may consider your rent for the following term canceled, Mrs. Muir. I shall notify my factor.”

“Bless you, sir!”

They mounted and rode off. Percy glanced back with a final wave to Stevie and his mother where they stood beside their cottage.

They rode most of the way back to the manor in silence. The brief encounter had penetrated deep into the soul of Roderick Westbrooke.

“That was a very kind gesture of you, Uncle Roderick,” said Percy at length. “I know it meant the world to her. I honor you for it.”

Final Evening

P
ercy had just finished dressing for dinner when a soft knock came to his door. He answered it and was surprised to see Gwyneth standing in the corridor. “Hi, Gwyneth!” he said.

“I know you are a guest and I am a servant—” she began.

“Gwyneth!”
He laughed. “I’m me, remember?”

She smiled and glanced briefly at the floor before looking up into his face. “I know you are leaving tomorrow,” she said a little bashfully. “Everyone’s been talking about it. Since you’ll be at dinner when I leave tonight, I wanted to say good-bye.”

“Oh, right,” said Percy. “Yeah—it’s come up faster than I expected … much too short a visit.”

“But you will be back to Wales,” said Gwyneth, trying to sound cheerful.

“Of course … absolutely. Actually, I had planned to come down to see you this evening after dinner.”

“You did?”

“You didn’t think I would leave without seeing you?”

“I knew you wouldn’t do that. But I heard Lady Katherine saying they were having a special dinner tonight. I thought I should come see you … in case you were busy.”

“Oh … right, I see. I didn’t know Aunt Katherine had plans.” Percy thought a moment. “I’ve got an idea—let’s meet tomorrow morning!”

“But you are leaving!”

“I mean early. The coach comes through at nine. That’s when I have to be at the inn. Meet me before breakfast. I’ll get there as soon after sunrise as I can.”

“Where, Percy?”

“At our special place … where the sea and land meet and the waves crash, and we look across to see the sun set at the horizon, and if we are lucky all the way to the land of your birth. It will always be the most special of all the special places.”

Gwyneth nodded. “When the sun comes up?”

“Right. I’ll see you there!”

“But if for some reason you can’t, Percy—”

“I will be there. I promise.”

Though the dinner was lavish, and even Courtenay was relatively friendly, there was still no sign of Florilyn. It was hard for Percy to enter into the spirit of the evening knowing that he was the cause, even if indirectly, of Florilyn’s not wanting to see him. It was at least gratifying that Courtenay extended his hand when he departed for the evening. It had come late in the game, but he hoped that at long last his cousin might be warming to him.

“I guess I haven’t seen much of you this time, old man,” said Courtenay, shaking Percy’s hand. “But best of luck, and all that.”

“To you as well, Courtenay. When do you return to Oxford?”

“August.”

Percy nodded. “Right, well … hope it goes well. It’s a lot of work, isn’t it?”

“You know it! So … cheers then!” added Courtenay and left the sitting room where the four of them had been chatting since dinner.

Percy turned back into the room where his aunt and uncle sat.

“I am sorry about Florilyn, Percy,” said his aunt for probably the fifth time. “I just don’t know what’s got into her. I know she is dreadfully embarrassed.”

“She was angry with me,” said Percy. “I understand that. Really, it’s all right. She will get over it. When she does, you can assure her there are no hard feelings. All’s forgiven and fine.”

“I told her what you said to Roderick about not defending yourself. I’m sure she will come around and understand in the end.”

“I know she will.” Percy smiled. “Please don’t worry about it, Aunt Katherine.”

At length the conversation flagged. Everything that was to be said had been said two or three times. Percy excused himself, saying he would see them in the morning, and retired to his room.

Where Land Meets Sea

G
wyneth did not sleep well.

Her mental anxiety was caused by no premonition such as had awakened her during the night prior to her uncle’s death, nor even anxiety about what had happened to Grannie’s cottage. But she was anxious lest she oversleep and miss her farewell rendezvous with Percy. Every time she fell asleep, her subconscious brain jolted itself awake, and she looked toward the window to see if there was yet any sign of light.

Thus it went, on and off fitfully all night, until the faint imperceptible gray of first light began to hint that the sun was creeping slowly back around the earth in the direction of Snowdonia.

Gwyneth lay with her face to the window, watching the dawn approach slower than any watched pot that never boiled. There comes a moment, however, when all pots eventually boil. But with the coming of dawn, no such moment exists.
When
does dawn arrive is a question as much for the world’s philosophers as for girls in love.

When at last Gwyneth could stand it no longer and judged that the morning had sufficiently arrived for her purposes, she crept quietly from between the blankets and dressed in silence. With nearly as many layers on as she would have donned had it been snowing, she found the bouquet of flowers she had picked last evening then stole noiselessly from the house into a morning heavy laden along the coast with a chill white mist.