From Across the Ancient Waters (39 page)

The anthem ended with rousing applause from every quarter as the fifty or so guests broke into smaller groups.

The young lady for whom the occasion had been planned had purposefully delayed her appearance for maximum effect … and, most important, until the contingent from Westbrooke Manor arrived.

Davina Burrenchobay reached the bottom of the stairs, slowed and tried to calm herself, pinched both cheeks to make sure they were pink, then continued through the central hall and toward the gathering outside.

Several of her friends scurried to meet her. “Has anyone seen Percy?” asked Davina.

“He’s here!” said one of her friends excitedly.

“He’s over there with his uncle and your parents … and that Florilyn Westbrooke.”

“Don’t worry about her,” said Davina. “Once he sets eyes on me, he will forget his cousin.”

“Do you think he’ll ask you to dance?” asked one of Davina’s fawning friends.

“I intend to make sure of it, Iola. If he doesn’t, I shall ask him!”

She continued through the crowd spread out on the expansive lawns to the side of the house, an entourage of four or five young ladies following her about just as she had once followed Florilyn.

“Ah, Lord Snowdon,” said a distinguished-looking gentleman approaching the viscount and Katherine with outstretched hand, “how good of you to come.”

“Thank you, Armond,” replied Westbrooke. “And greetings to you, Lady Arial,” he added, smiling to the woman at Burrenchobay’s side.

The wives exchanged greetings along with their husbands.

Sir Armond Burrenchobay and Roderick Westbrooke had virtually grown up together on the north coast of Wales, both from old Welsh families. They had pursued different interests through the years, with the result that Burrenchobay had risen through the political ranks into its highest echelons.

“I would like you both to meet my nephew, Percival Drummond,” said Westbrooke. “Percy is in Wales for a few weeks.”

Handshakes followed.

“I’ve heard about your visit,” said Burrenchobay to Percy. “You were here some years back, were you not? I believe my eldest son knows you.”

“Yes, we … uh, ran into one another during my previous visit,” replied Percy.

“That’s fine—good. Perhaps you shall have a chance to renew your friendship.”

The adults gradually moved away, talking among themselves.

“Hello, Percy,” said Burrenchobay’s daughter, slinking forward in the wake of her father’s departure, dropping her eyes for just the right effect.

“Hello, Davina,” replied Percy with the humorous poise of an adult speaking to a child. “Finally leaving the awkward age of fifteen behind, eh. Happy birthday.”

At his side, Florilyn smiled inwardly at Percy’s wit. She could not help enjoying the chagrin she saw in Davina’s eyes at the reminder of how young Percy considered her.

“Thank you,” said Davina recovering herself. “I’m so glad you could come. I am hoping you will dance with me. It
is
my birthday, you know.”

“If Florilyn will allow me,” rejoined Percy, casting a grin to his side, “I suppose it might be arranged. Wouldn’t be right to disappoint the birthday girl!”

At the far end of the garden, Colville Burrenchobay came out of the house with Rhawn Lorimer at his side. Neither appeared happy. A perceptive observer would have seen that they had been arguing.

Percy was stunned by the change that had taken place. Both looked older than three short years could account for. If possible, Rhawn was even more beautiful than before, yet her face had a hard look, and she had done considerable filling out. Though her profile would still have been capable of making grown men swoon, she no longer boasted that willowy figure of youth that was still evident in Florilyn and young Davina.

As for Colville Burrenchobay, his expression and demeanor was, for lack of a better word, threatening. To call it evil might have been going too far. Still, Percy shuddered at the sight. He would not need to be reminded to keep well clear of Davina’s older brother.

Soon the dancing was in full swing to the sound of a string sextet. Thinking it best to get the inevitable over with as quickly as possible, Percy had consented to Davina’s entreaties. She was thus enjoying a second waltz with the young man, as she supposed, that she was about to steal from Florilyn Westbrooke. A few of the other girls, following Davina’s example, had succeeded in enticing a handful of single youths in the direction of the music. Gradually the dance area filled with couples of all ages.

As dancing and discussions continued, servants moved silently among the guests bearing trays laden with tea, coffee, and for the most special of guests, samples from Burrenchobay’s private reserve of thirty-year-old whiskey imported from the Scottish highlands. Several tables at one end would be heavily laden with a lavish spread of food within the hour and were now set with cups and saucers, milk and sugar, and additional steaming pots of tea.

Wives from twenty to sixty clustered about the grounds chatting about husbands and children and everything else wives and mothers talk about. These included several newly married young ladies, suddenly transformed from girls to matrons. One or two of these cast about distracted glances toward the dancers, accompanied by inward twinges of envy to think that they had married so young and would never more know the gaiety and freedom that Davina Burrenchobay and their former friends still enjoyed.

But the vortex of the gathering, as in all such events from London to Inverness, was reserved for the unmarried young men and young women who had been fortunate enough to receive invitations. Among them stirred budding affections to pluck a hundred invisible heartstrings that would result in many individual dramas of hope and heartbreak, triumph and disappointment.

Swirling and twirling with flourish, those young women were engaged in the wily art practiced since time began, of attempting to attract the eye of every young man on the premises. Some flirtations were modest, others bold, a few outright brazen. But all had the same end in view—to be
noticed …
then to draw a lingering shy smile, from some handsome boy, to be followed, whether in ten minutes or an hour, by the bashful invitation to the dance floor.

The most eligible of the young men, on their parts, carried out with exquisite perfection their own portion of the timeless rite, which was pretending
not
to notice. All the while they spoke of hunting and horses and guns, to all appearances oblivious to the giggles and fluttering eyelashes of the fairer sex.

The older and more handsome among them knew well enough that every smile, every laugh, every gesture was capable of causing one or another of the girls to go weak at the knees. Young men knew how to flirt, too. Thus, they chose exactly when to allow a grin, how wide to make their smiles, and where to direct them toward some vulnerable heart.

This was the centuries-old ritual of the British “coming out,” practiced on the yearly stage of London’s social season. Tonight’s event had been planned merely as Davina Burrenchobay’s warmup for the main event a year hence.

To have seen this undercurrent of coquetry on the part of the young ladies and roguery on the part of the young men and to have witnessed the self-preoccupied interplay among the youthful generation would have made the skin crawl on the arms and neck of Edward and Mary Drummond of Glasgow. That many of today’s charms from the girl who swirled at the center of attention had been specifically designed in this case to lure and fascinate their own son would have broken their hearts. But they would have been proud to know that his reaction, after ten minutes at Burrenchobay Hall, was substantially the same as theirs would have been. None of the wiles directed at him exercised the slightest movement of either his heart or his ego. Already Percy was anxious to have the evening done with. For the sake of his aunt and uncle, however, he tried to enjoy himself.

At long last, having observed the machinations of the younger girls long enough, Rhawn Lorimer decided to show them how it was done. She left Davina’s brother and prepared to move in for the kill.

As the drama of the social elite of Snowdonia was playing out its subtleties, on a hill overlooking Burrenchobay Hall, a lonely figure sat watching from a distance of some four hundred yards. The lights gleamed, and the music drifted up from afar and stung her young heart with longings she had never felt in the brief span of her sixteen years. After reaching home, consumed by thoughts of the celebration someone like her would never attend, Gwyneth had run over the hills, like a moth to the flame, and now sat watching and listening in silence as the dusk of evening closed around her.

“So, young Drummond,” purred Rhawn Lorimer, sidling through the group of juveniles and squeezing Davina aside, “it would appear that you are the hit of the evening with the
younger
crowd.”

Her emphasis of the word was lost neither on Percy nor the listening girls. But they had idolized Rhawn for a long time and were in truth a little afraid of her.

As she spoke, Rhawn gradually steered Percy away from the others. Unconsciously he followed, glancing about as if looking for Florilyn. A tingle of excited terror surged through him as he felt Rhawn’s hand slip through his arm. Soon they were alone.

“I’ve been hurt that you haven’t come to see me,” she said seductively. “I hear you have been back for weeks.”

“Not that long, really.” Percy laughed, trying to make light of it. “I just arrived.”

“Don’t lie to me, Percy. You’ve been here almost two weeks. I keep track of you.”

“I’m only here for a short visit anyway.”

“All the more reason you should have come to see me. You will be leaving in a matter of days. We have much to catch up on.”

Again Percy laughed, but nervously. He was feeling like a fly caught in the web of a very clever spider.

“Come, Percy … let’s dance.”

“I would really rather not, Rhawn,” replied Percy. “I heard that you traded Courtenay for Colville, and I don’t want to make
either
of them angry. I saw you with Colville, and he doesn’t like me. Surely you know that. I think it would be best if I—”

“Percy,
please,”
Rhawn interrupted. Her tone could hardly be mistaken. “I
want
to dance with you. If you don’t, I will make a scene and tell Colville that you tried to get too friendly with me. I don’t think you want that, do you, Percy? Whereas … if you give me what I want, I will make sure he keeps away from you.”

Percy sighed. He knew when he was beaten. “I guess you win,” he said. “So … may I have the honor of this dance?”

Rhawn smiled with her victory, gave a slight curtsy, and extended her hand. As if he were reaching for a cobra, Percy took it. They moved toward the rest of the dancers while Davina Burrenchobay looked on with helpless envy.

If Percy had hoped to placate Rhawn Lorimer in whatever game she was playing with a single inauspicious dance, he soon realized how mistaken he was. He found himself flying about among the other couples, wondering who was leading and who was following. Rhawn was loud and boisterous, laughing gaily as if intentionally trying to draw attention to herself. Percy wondered if she had been drinking.

The first dance was followed by a second, then a third. Between dances Rhawn clung to him like wallpaper. She continued to laugh and talk loudly. The eyes of everyone in the place followed them about. Mercifully, Colville Burrenchobay was nowhere to be seen. Percy had not seen Courtenay the whole evening.

After five dances, to Percy’s profound relief, Rhawn excused herself, saying she was suddenly not feeling well. She disappeared inside the house.

Percy immediately glanced about for his cousin. He located her by the refreshment table almost the same instant he saw Davina Burrenchobay making a beeline toward him. He hurried toward Florilyn.

She saw him approaching and waited, a humorous smile on her lips. If she had been bothered that Percy had been thus far monopolized by her two former friends, she showed no sign of it.

Percy raised his eyebrows and shook his head as if overwhelmed and bewildered by what had taken place with Rhawn Lorimer. “I fear I have been neglecting you, my dear cousin,” he said for the benefit of those standing nearby. “I hope you have been having a good time.” He led her away, one eye roving to keep out of the way of the birthday girl, then put his arm around Florilyn’s waist as the music to the next dance began.

As they moved together, he bent to her ear. “Why didn’t you come rescue me? That Rhawn is too much!”

Florilyn’s tinkling laughter sounded over the music. “It didn’t appear to me that you needed rescuing,” she said. “Besides, I’ve learned not to tangle with Rhawn.”

“Do you think she’s tipsy? She was acting really weird!”

“I don’t know,” replied Florilyn more seriously. “She is so changed, I hardly know her anymore.”

“All I know is that I was in over my head. You just stay on my arm and don’t let any of these conniving girls near me! And that includes little Davina. What is with her anyway?”

“She has a crush on you, Percy,” laughed Florilyn. “She and all her friends. Isn’t it obvious?”

“I thought I was supposed to be
your
escort. Fight them off with a stick if you have to! I’m yours for the rest of this evening—no one else’s.”

“If you say so.” Florilyn laughed. “But if Rhawn comes back, you’re on your own. I’m fond of you, Percy—but not fond enough to fight Rhawn for you.”

“Hey—I fought for you once. Remember?”

“How could I forget? But Rhawn Lorimer is more dangerous than Colville Burrenchobay.”

Meanwhile, the conversation between the two most powerful men in the region was progressing along different lines.

“I must say, Roderick,” remarked the host, “what do you think of all this new money flooding into Wales on the heels of industry?”

“Good for the economy, I suppose,” replied Westbrooke.

“Yes, but is it good for Wales?” rejoined Burrenenchobay.” Everywhere we’ve got
nouveau riche
industrialists buying up land, pretending they’re something they’re not.”