From Across the Ancient Waters (38 page)

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.

He turned toward her as she approached with a smile. The brief expression was gone from her face. The trance that had come over him was instantly broken.

“Hello, Percy,” she said. “You are standing there looking like you just saw a ghost!”

“Oh … yeah, sorry!” He laughed, shaking his head. “I was just … But, Gwyneth—I was hoping to run into you.”

She reached the landing.

“I’ve hardly seen you at all,” Percy went on. “I miss our talks.”

“So do I, Percy,” she said softly.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

Gwyneth shook her head.

“Then let’s meet for the day.”

“What about your work at the stables?” said Gwyneth. “All the rest of the servants are talking about what a big help you are. They say they have never seen Master Courtenay dirty his hands like you do.”

“Just so long as they don’t say it around him!” laughed Percy. “But the workers can get by without me. The roof is nearly done. They are just humoring me anyway. I don’t really know what I am doing.”

“That’s not what Mr. Radnor says.”

“Well, he has always been very nice. So what do you say about tomorrow?”

“If you really want to, Percy.”

“Want to? I’ve been waiting for the chance.”

“Would you like to come to Grannie’s for breakfast tea?”

“That would be great!”

“Then I will walk my father to the mine at seven and be to Grannie’s by eight.”

“I’ll be there.”

The next morning, Percy left the manor on foot at seven thirty, just about the time Gwyneth was saying good-bye to her father for the day and returning to walk back to the village from the mine.

After breakfast tea with Grannie, Percy and Gwyneth left the cottage and walked through the village toward the harbor.

“Do the village people bother you much anymore?” asked Percy.

“Not so much,” replied Gwyneth. “They don’t talk to me, but at least they don’t say cruel things. It is a great relief not to go to school. Grannie always taught me to return evil with kindness, and I tried to. One of my earliest memories is of Grannie’s voice saying, ‘Good returns fivefold. Secret good returns tenfold. Return good for evil—God never forgets.’ But it is not so pleasant to have people make fun of you. I am glad not to be taking so many bouquets around as I once did.”

They reached the beach. Percy paused to untie his shoes and take them off along with his socks. Gwyneth did the same. Before she was through, Percy had gone running off, yelling and laughing as he darted in and out of the incoming tide like a frolicksome dog. Gwyneth laughed with delight. Out of breath after a few minutes, he came running back to where she stood, still giggling to see him having so much fun.

“There is nothing like walking and running barefoot in the sand,” he said as he picked up his shoes and they walked away from the harbor. I think this beach is one of my favorite places in the whole world. I think I will claim it as
my
special place! I wonder if you can see Ireland from here, too.”

“Only on a very clear day, I think,” said Gwyneth.

“The tide is out today,” Percy went on. “Have you found any more spooky skeletons in the cave?”

“No,” laughed Gwyneth. “I am still a little afraid to go there by myself.”

“I’ve got it! You wait here.” said Percy excitedly. “I’ll run back to Grannie’s and borrow a candle and matches. We’ll explore it!”

He dashed off. As soon as he left the sand, he remembered his bare feet. He sat down and began to put his shoes and socks back on.

Almost the next instant Gwyneth ran past him. “You wait here!” she laughed. “I don’t need shoes. I will get the candle and matches.”

She was back almost in less time than it would have taken him to tie up his laces. Soon they were scampering over the rocky end of the beach toward the cave. Five minutes later they were inside.

Percy struck a match and lit the candle. With the flame flickering and sending its light and shadows dancing off the walls and roof of the perpetually wet rock, they ventured slowly inside.

“I’ve never seen the cave so bright,” said Gwyneth, gazing all about. “It looks so different.”

The cave was larger than Percy expected, easily forty or fifty feet to the far end where the downward slope of the roof met the walls at the sand. No dangerous protrusions or hidden stones were visible, and the sandy floor was smooth. The bottom sloped up markedly from the cave’s mouth. If one did happen to get trapped inside by a sudden incoming tide, it would indeed be difficult to get out.

“Where did you see the skeleton?” asked Percy.

“I think about here,” said Gwyneth, glancing about. “It is hard to tell. But it was only the head.”

“You’ve never seen anything since?”

Gwyneth shook her head.

They reached the far end. Percy knelt down in the wet sand, feeling about with his free hand as he sent the light from the candle into every crevice and recess of the irregular rock of the walls. “It almost seems that it might go farther back,” he said. “Look here, the rock angles farther in except that it is blocked up by sand. Waves must have constantly pushed the sand farther in and up against the rock. I wonder if there is another small chamber behind this pile of sand.”

“I would be afraid to find out,” said Gwyneth. “There might be spiders and crabs and scary little creatures. I would never come in here again if I thought there was a place where things like that were hiding!”

Percy laughed. “I thought you loved animals!”

“I do. But not spiders and bats and beetles that live where it’s dark.”

“Well, if there is more to this cave, we’re not going to find it without a spade.”

They crawled back away from the inner end of the cave until they could stand again, then left through the cave mouth and continued along the south portion of sandy beach. Soon they had their shoes on again and were climbing the trail up to the promontory of Mochras Head. They sat down at the top, gazing across the water.

“Can you see Ireland today?” asked Percy.

Gwyneth squinted. “I don’t think so. Maybe. I can’t be sure. Are you going to the party at Burrenchobay Hall, Percy?” asked Gwyneth abruptly.

“You heard about it, did you? I don’t know … I suppose. Though I would rather not.”

“Why, Percy?”

“Oh, you know … all those highfalutin society people. I’m not cut out for all that. I’d rather be having a pint with the fishermen than get dressed up for a party.”

“But you have to go.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Miss Florilyn is expecting you to be her escort.”

“Is she? Hmm, well I suppose I shall have to go, then.”

“I saw you and Miss Florilyn leaving for a ride yesterday. Did you have fun?”

“Yes, we had a good time catching up since seeing one another during my last visit.”

“She likes being with you, doesn’t she?”

“I suppose.”

“Where did you ride?”

“Where you met me three years ago way out in the hills, remember? You had to lead me home.”

Gwyneth smiled but then grew quiet, even a little withdrawn. They sat awhile in silence.

“Do you have any new animals?” he asked at length.

“A few.

“I would like to see them.”

They rose and walked slowly away from the promontory and toward Gwyneth’s home. The mood that had come over her passed. She was soon herself again.

Burrenchobay Hall

T
he big day of the party finally came.

Florilyn spent all afternoon getting ready. Gwyneth and one of the other maids spent most of the day waiting on her. By five o’clock she was ready, every hair in place, her long lavender dress perfect. Mother and daughter had at last attached the final ribbon at the waist to the expensive dress they had purchased in London some months before.

“You look lovely, dear,” said Katherine as she adjusted the bow in her daughter’s glistening black hair.

“Do you think Percy will like the dress?” asked Florilyn.

“I am sure he will.”

Outside a large brougham with Deaken Trenchard at the reins stood ready to transport Lord and Lady Snowdon, Florilyn, and Percy the four miles to Burrenchobay Hall. Courtenay had made his own arrangements and had left some time before.

Percy came down the central staircase looking stunning in a dark blue suit with a white shirt, vest, and red tie. Florilyn stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. The sight nearly took her breath away. It was the same suit he had been wearing on the day of his arrival. Yet something about it on this day was especially stunning.

Gwyneth, too, had been watching for Percy’s appearance. She stood out of sight along one of the corridors, hidden around a corner of the wall. She knew she was neglecting her work. But she could not help herself. The compulsion was too strong to set eyes on him before a grand event the likes of which she had been listening to Florilyn describe all day.

Her reaction was exactly like Florilyn’s. At sight of Percy as she peeped around the corner, Gwyneth felt a tightening in her chest. Could that really be
her
Percy … her friend of the seashore and hills … the same Percy who sat in Grannie’s cottage day after day as if he were a simple villager … her sharer of the special places? She could hardly believe it!

Then the familiar laugh echoed down the hall in response to something Florilyn had said. The sound fell into Gwyneth’s ear with a pang even as it sent her heart leaping. It was Percy!

Yet how could Percy be two such different people? How could he walk and talk with her like a friend, run along with bare feet on the sand, laughing as he dashed in and out of the incoming waves like a jubilant boy, and now be so dazzling and handsome?

As she crept away and returned to her final duties of the day, many confusing thoughts rushed through the brain of Gwyneth Barrie. How could one like her, so small, so slow of speech, a simple peasant girl who kept animals and took care of her Grannie and her papa, ever be worthy of one like Percy Drummond?

The sight of him had been a revelation, a wonder. Yet it was also a crushing blow. In that moment, Gwyneth had also seen herself. She knew she had allowed herself to build foolish castles in the sky and to dream dreams that could never be.

The brougham with its four passengers left Westbrooke Manor and arrived at its destination forty minutes later.

The scene at the Burrenchobay estate as they approached was bright and festive. In the distance could be heard strains of music.

A servant led them in at the front door with the stream of guests who had been arriving for some time from the best homes throughout North Wales. The sounds grew louder, accompanied by laughter from behind the house. The butler continued before them through a wide hall decorated with medieval replicas, not unlike those in Westbrooke Manor, and out to the garden. There a hastily assembled choir of male voices was raised in resonant harmony to the strains of “God Save the Queen.”

Always singing in Wales!
Percy laughed to himself. He heard music coming from every cottage in Llanfryniog. Fishermen at their nets might spontaneously burst into song without warning, two or three together, and within minutes be joined by voices from boats out on the water. The servants around the house were constantly humming or singing to themselves.