Treasure of the Celtic Triangle (45 page)

“A wise observation, Mr. Drummond,” nodded Murray. “Two witnesses will be better than one.”

Five minutes later, Percy showed Madame Fleming into a small office on the first floor that had several chairs and a writing table. He introduced her to Hamilton Murray then himself took a chair beside where Steven already sat across the room.

Madame Fleming sat down in one of the chairs while Murray took his place at the desk. With pen in hand, he wrote down a few preliminary remarks of time, date, place, and the names of Steven and Percy and himself as witnesses. Then he looked up at Madame Fleming. “Please tell me your name, for the record,” he said.

The name she gave was neither of the names by which Percy knew her.

“Now tell me, please, in as much detail as possible, what you know of the parentage and birth of the young woman known as Gwyneth Barrie.”

Madame Fleming cast a brief glance of wrath in Percy’s direction, still incensed that another was capable of exerting power over her. “I was for many years a midwife in Arklow, on the eastern coast of Ireland,” she began, almost as through clenched teeth. “A time came when I was called upon by a certain lady of the name Maighdlin O’Sullivan. Her granddaughter had been raised by her and had recently married and was with child. She employed me for the birthing.”

“What was the granddaughter’s name?” asked Murray.

“Morvern … Morvern O’Sullivan. That was the name Mrs. O’Sullivan gave me.”

“Do you know the names of her parents?”

“No. They were either dead or gone, I don’t know. She was raised by Mrs. O’Sullivan.”

“And she was now married and expecting?”

“Yes.”

“What was her husband’s name?”

“Barrie … Codnor Barrie.”

“So the expectant mother’s married name was actually Morvern Barrie?”

“I suppose so.”

“And then?”

“The time for the birthing came. I delivered the baby—a girl.”

“Did they name the child immediately?”

“They did.”

“What name did they give her?”

“Gwyneth.”

“Was there anything unique or distinctive about the birth?”

“Nothing. The child was healthy, the mother was healthy. Only, the baby was born with pure white hair, not the red hair of the mother and, as I understand it, the grandmother as well. The mother’s uncle—an irrational man of violent temper—threatened me on account of it. He said that I had brought a curse on the family and the white hair proved it. After that, because of him, my life was in danger. I left Ireland and came to Wales and changed my name.”

Murray nodded and looked over his transcription of the conversation.

“Did you ever see any of them again?” he asked.

“The man Barrie and his daughter, of course,” replied Madame Fleming. “It wasn’t long after I arrived in Llanfryniog that he came here himself. I had had no idea that he was Welsh. One day I saw him in the village, and I knew in an instant who he was. I had my own reasons for not wanting him to recognize me. But I soon learned that he had come to Wales with the child. When I saw her for myself, even though it was from a distance when Mrs. Myfanawy was caring for her, I recognized her in an instant. There was no mistaking that hair. What the man and his girl were doing in Llanfryniog, I hadn’t an idea. I later heard that the mother, the girl called Morvern, had died and that he was a widower alone with his baby. But there’s no mistake that the child called Gwyneth Barrie was the same baby I delivered in Arklow.”

Again Murray paused and looked over the transcript. “All right then,” he said, rising from the desk. “I believe that is all I need for now. If I should need to question you further, Mr. Drummond, I believe, knows how to contact you.”

Again Madame Fleming shot Percy a hateful glance then lifted her ponderous bulk from the chair.

“If you would just sign here,” said Murray, handing her the pen.

She did so, with obvious displeasure.

“And you as well, Mr. Muir … and Mr. Drummond.”

Steven walked across the room, still stunned by the amazing turn of events, and also signed the paper, as did Percy.

Finally Murray added his own signature. “With the parish records you located,” he said to Percy, “along with the viscount’s affidavit, and now this … I believe Miss Barrie’s claim to be virtually unassailable. No court will overturn it.”

Percy escorted Madame Fleming, whose curiosity was heightened by Murray’s final words, out of the office and to the front door. They again climbed into the buggy, and he returned her to her home.

Not a word was spoken between them.

S
EVENTY
-F
OUR

The Grandparents

C
ourtenay’s twenty-fifth birthday came and went without fanfare. He had not been seen since Percy’s and Gwyneth’s arrival.

It was a great relief, for the present at least, for Katherine to know that she would not be forced to depart for Glasgow in the immediate future. Several letters were dispatched to Percy’s parents, informing them of developments.

Percy and Gwyneth planned to leave Llanfryniog for Scotland as soon as they were certain that Katherine and Florilyn would find no unexpected notices of eviction slid under their doors during the night. In thoroughly reviewing the legalities of the case, Hamilton Murray assured them that Courtenay could make no move against them. In the extremely unlikely event that he should prevail in court, if the matter went that far, it would be months, if not years, before any change would be enforced. Gradually Katherine began to breathe more easily.

Two days after Courtenay’s birthday, Palmer Sutcliffe appeared at the manor requesting an interview with Katherine. He presented her with a legal demand for a return of £5,400 that had been paid to Courtenay, in two payments, the most recent £1,000 only two weeks previously, by Lord Litchfield as down payment for sale of one thousand acres of Westbrooke land. Katherine confessed herself completely unaware of the transaction. Be that as it may, rejoined Sutcliffe coolly, papers had been signed on behalf of the estate and a large amount of money had changed hands. If that amount was not returned within a week, said Sutcliffe, interest at 4 percent would commence, to be added to the balance monthly, along with legal proceedings against the Westbrooke estate for fraud. Stunned by the charge, Katherine did her best to preserve her outward calm. She said that she was very sorry Lord Litchfield had not been more careful and had entered into a transaction with her son when he had no legal power to act on behalf of the estate. However, she hardly saw what she was able to do about it. She suggested he speak with the manor’s solicitor. Another consultation between Katherine and Hamilton Murray followed almost immediately.

With their old friendship rekindled, drawn together on deeper spiritual levels by the blossoming maturity of their mutual womanhood, as well as by the fact that both had suffered at the hands of the same man, Florilyn and Rhawn saw one another nearly every day. The reciprocity of their friendship now sought more meaningful levels of communication and exchange than was possible when they were self-centered teens, for they now desired to become women of dignity and character. Gwyneth’s presence at the manor, too, drew the best out of Florilyn. Their former friendship resumed, and Rhawn could not but be drawn into it. It was not long before the three young women were the best of friends. In spite of the fact that Gwyneth was several years younger than both, the two older girls sensed her calm, soft-spoken, and mystical union with God, made all the more profound as she now entered the fullness of her womanhood. It was only natural that Florilyn and Rhawn looked to Gwyneth as the unspoken spiritual head of their threefold cord of friendship. She had been attuning herself to the subtleties of the inner voice all her life. She had learned much that still lay years in the future for them. When they prayed together, however, Gwyneth remained curiously silent. Most of her prayers were prayers of listening. What she had to
say
to God, she said in her heart.

One day when Rhawn appeared at the manor to visit her friends, she wore a strange look on her face. “I have a favor to ask,” she said.

Gwyneth and Florilyn waited.

“There is something I want to do … something I
need
to do. I am afraid of doing it alone. I have spoken with my parents, and they agree that it is time. I would like to ask the two of you to accompany me.”

The three left the manor for town a short while later. They stopped at the Lorimer home where Mr. Lorimer had a buggy hitched and ready. He greeted Florilyn and Gwyneth and took charge of their horses while Rhawn went into the house for her son. A short while later the three girls and young boy, with Rhawn at the reins, set out northward.

By the time they reached their destination, Florilyn and Gwyneth knew what was in Rhawn’s heart to do. At length Rhawn reined up in front of Burrenchobay Hall. With her friends at her side and her son’s hand in hers, they walked to the front door. When it opened, she asked the butler to see Mr. and Mrs. Burrenchobay.

The wait of two minutes seemed like ten. When at last they heard footsteps approaching, Florilyn and Gwyneth stepped back. Florilyn had her own reasons for being apprehensive. She had not seen Colville’s parents since breaking off the engagement. She had no idea what they might have been told.

What the butler had said, or whether they had suspected the truth before now, the expressions on the faces of the member of parliament and his wife were neither hostile nor unwelcoming. Lady Burrenchobay smiled, betraying slight nervousness. Her eyes flitted down to the boy at Rhawn’s side. Instantly her eyes filled as the years fell away and she found herself looking at the very image of her son twenty-two years before.

“Hello, Sir Armond … Lady Burrenchobay,” said Rhawn. “I know this is awkward, and I know you may hate me, and I won’t blame you if you do, but you need to know … this has waited far too long. I would like to introduce you to your grandson, Amren. Amren, dear, this woman is your grandmother, and this man is your grandfather.”

The boy smiled and nodded sheepishly, then held out his hand as he had obviously been told to do.

Swallowing hard and blinking a time or two, Sir Armond reached down and shook it. “A good firm handshake, my boy,” he said in a husky voice. “That is a sign of character. Good for you.”

Lady Burrenchobay, tears in her eyes, stooped down as her husband stood and stepped back. “Hello, Amren,” she said, desperately trying to keep from breaking down altogether. “I am so happy to know you. Would you like to come in and see our house, and perhaps have some biscuits and milk?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Amren. “Thank you very much.”

Lady Burrenchobay stood then turned to Rhawn and looked deep into her eyes. “Oh, my dear,” she said, taking a step forward and embracing Rhawn affectionately. “I am so sorry for what you have been through. Thank you
so
much!” When she stepped back, she and Rhawn were both weeping.

Rhawn forced a smile then turned. “You both know Florilyn,” she said.

“Yes … certainly, of course. Hello, Florilyn,” said Sir Armond. Neither of Colville’s parents knew the full details of what had transpired between Florilyn and their son. They only knew there had been some change. They did not yet know, however, that Florilyn had formally terminated the engagement.

“I would also like you to meet my friend, Gwyneth Barrie,” said Rhawn. “You will be hearing more about her, I am certain, in the future. Gwyneth, please meet Sir Armond Burrenchobay and Lady Burrenchobay.”

Gwyneth stepped forward, smiled, and shook hands with them both. “I am very pleased to meet you,” she said simply. The man and woman returned her smile, disarmed by her penetrating expression and countenance.

Lady Burrenchobay turned again to Rhawn. “Come in, my dear,” she said. “I think it is time you and I became better acquainted.”

Rhawn looked back at her two friends. She smiled as if to say,
I will be okay now
.

“Shall we come back for you later?” said Florilyn.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” said Sir Armond. “I will take Rhawn and the little fellow back to Llanfryniog. Perhaps you will stay and have tea with us, Rhawn,” he added to Rhawn. “Florilyn, if you would tell Styles that I will bring them home.”

S
EVENTY
-F
IVE

The Storm

A
s the train pulled into the Glasgow station, Gwyneth stared out the window with wide-eyed anticipation.

“Do you remember that first day we met?” asked Percy beside her. “You said you wanted to see Glasgow one day. That’s why you asked my name … so you would know who to look for when you came to Glasgow. Well, here we are … and you know my name!”

Gwyneth laughed. “I remember,” she said. “I also said I wanted to visit London. Will you take me to London someday?”

“Your wish is my command!”

Having never before had occasion to meet Gwyneth when visiting Wales, Edward and Mary Drummond could not have been more delighted with their future daughter-in-law. After a few days in Glasgow, however, Gwyneth was anxious to see her father again. They had written him, but she wanted to tell him about everything that had happened in person.

She and Percy sailed from Glasgow to Dublin, where Codnor was waiting for them. Though the great change in her life was only a few weeks old, already there was an obvious change in Gwyneth’s countenance. What a reunion they had with him and Grannie! Grannie seemed about to die of happiness at the double blessing that had come to Gwyneth. Percy also took her to meet Father O’Leary. With him accompanying them, they paid a visit to Gwyneth’s aunt, Vanora Maloney, telling her about Percy’s climb up to Percy’s Table and revealing Gwyneth’s engagement to Percy but not the full details of her altered social status.

With Gwyneth now heir to Westbrooke Manor and its title, her future was obviously in Snowdonia. Her father and Grannie, too, were anxious to return to Wales. What to do with the house on the lower slopes of Lugnaquilla remained uncertain, though Codnor would sell his flock to neighboring sheep farmers at whatever price they could afford. He and Grannie, they said, would try to be ready to sail for Wales by summer. With their former cottages still vacant, both planned to return to life as it had been before. Learning of their plans, however, Katherine would hear nothing of it. They would come live at the manor, she insisted, where Grannie would be well cared for by loving hands and where Gwyneth’s father could help Steven with his duties and gradually replace aging Holin Radnor as the manor’s groom. Steven could not have been more excited at the prospect of working with his uncle. He had missed shepherding. And Adela was greatly anticipating sitting in the library with her brother and reminiscing about their grandfather’s library.