From Across the Ancient Waters (51 page)

Florilyn waited.

“You have really changed, Florilyn,” he said. “You are a different person than when I first came.”

“You know why, don’t you, Percy?” she asked softly.

“I suppose you grew up and began to see things differently. We all did. Remember what a jerk I was that first summer?”

“You were never a jerk, Percy.”

“I made a pretty good impression of one! Maybe I should just say that I had a lot of growing up to do. So I changed, too. But so did you, and I am impressed and proud of you.”

“You said that to me once before,” rejoined Florilyn. “I wasn’t quite sure what to think. I do now … at least I think so. It makes me happy to know you feel that way about me.” Florilyn paused. “There’s more to the changes in me than just being twenty now,” she went on after a moment. “It’s because of you, Percy.
You
helped me see things. You helped me grow up. You helped me see myself and helped me grow into someone better. Everything you told me about your father … that’s how you have been to me. I learned to trust you in the same way that you trust your father.”

“That is high praise,” said Percy. His voice was soft and thoughtful. “That is a remarkable thing for one person to say to another.”

“I mean every word.”

“I know you do. That’s what makes it remarkable. Thank you.”

They walked on, descending more deeply into the depths of the garden. As they spoke softly together, Percy shared what was on his heart and the decision he had come to, which was to ask her to be his wife.

Florilyn’s heart swelled. Slowly her eyes began to fill. “Do you really mean it, Percy?” she said.

He looked at her and smiled. “Of course I mean it.”

“Oh, Percy,” she said softly, her voice full of the tears that were flowing from her eyes, “you have made me the happiest girl in the world.” She slipped her hand through his arm, and they continued to walk slowly through the garden.

“There is a question I have to ask, Percy,” said Florilyn as they returned in the direction of the house some time later.

He waited.

“What about Gwyneth?”

Percy drew in a long sigh. “Nothing gets past you,” he said with a smile.

“I know you loved her. At first I didn’t realize it. But I grew to know it as I grew to love her, too.”

“It’s no secret,” said Percy. “I loved you both. I love you for how you changed and for who you have become. I loved her with a sort of deep gratitude for helping me learn to see God. But I believe the circumstances as they developed were God’s way of leading you and me together.”

“Like what you told me your father talks about.”

Percy nodded. Slowly a smile spread over his face. “Have I ever told you how I once wondered if Gwyneth was an angel?” he asked.

“No!” said Florilyn. “An
angel
?”

“I really did, at first. She was so different, so otherworldly. She would appear when you least expected it. And she helped me to change—like you said that I helped you.”

Florilyn listened as Percy went on.

“Now I am wondering,” he said. “I know it sounds crazy, but with her disappearing like this, maybe she really
was
an angel, sent in some strange way to lead us together. Then when her job was over, she left us.”

“You don’t
really
think so?”

“I don’t know.” Percy chuckled. “But it’s a nice thought.”

“She helped teach us
both
about God.” Florilyn nodded. “That’s what angels do, isn’t it?”

“And about each other as well,” agreed Percy. “I wonder if we would have come together without her. She will always be part of us.”

“My only regret is that she cannot be at our wedding. I wish she could stand beside me. I will never forget her.”

Later that afternoon, a knock came on the viscount’s door.

“Might I talk to you, Uncle Roderick?” said Percy when his uncle opened the door. “There is a personal matter I would like to discuss and an important question I need to ask you.”

“Certainly, Percy, my boy! Come in and sit down. Was that you and Florilyn I saw in the garden earlier?”

“Yes, sir. Actually that is what I would like to talk to you about.” He closed the door behind him and took a seat with his uncle.

They remained in close conference for thirty minutes.

Feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, on the following morning Percy rode into Llanfryniog. He was in high spirits. At last he was ready to walk the streets and lanes and visit in the shops and walk to the harbor and beach. He was astonished to find people looking at him differently.

He was puzzled by the smiles until one woman stopped as he approached and extended her hand. “I hear congratulations are in order, Mr. Percy,” she said. “May I offer my hand and wish you and Miss Florilyn all the best.”

Percy shook her hand. “Does word really spread so fast?” He laughed. “All this only happened yesterday.”

“The whole village knows, Mr. Percy,” said the woman. “It doesn’t take long for this kind of news to pass along. Good day to you, sir.”

Percy watched her amble off, still amazed by the exchange. He didn’t even know the woman’s name, but she seemed to know everything about him.

Joy Comes to the Manor

T
hough some might have attributed his ebullient spirits to the relief of a father having a daughter off his hands, the viscount’s joy went far deeper. He knew that Florilyn was engaged to a worthy young man whom he already loved as a son. His was a double portion of happiness.

Katherine’s spirits and those of the entire staff of Westbrooke Manor were equally celebratory.

Stevie Muir had not been to work for two days. When he next appeared, therefore, he had heard nothing. Word of the engagement was the first news out of Hollin Radnor’s mouth. Immediately Stevie went in search of Percy.

He encountered Florilyn on his way toward the house. “Miss Florilyn,” he said excitedly, “I just heard the news about you and Percy. Congratulations!”

“Thank you, Stevie. I am very happy.”

“You deserve it, Miss Florilyn.”

She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t … How do you mean?” she said.

“Just that you are a young lady of quality and character,” replied Stevie.

“What a nice thing to say!”

“I have been watching you for years. I have come to have great admiration for you. Not many girls in your position—from wealth and privilege, you know—not many grow to be the kind of young lady you have become. I know your parents are proud of you. You deserve a fine man like Percy. And he is lucky to have someone like you.”

“Thank you, Stevie. No one has ever said something like that to me before except Percy.”

“I mean it. I am happy for you both.” Stevie continued in search of Percy.

Florilyn stared after him a moment with an odd expression. She had never paid much attention to Stevie Muir before. There was obviously more to him than met the eye.

“Percy, my boy,” said the viscount as he and Percy walked down the main staircase together, “and at last I can legitimately call you that, eh!—how about father and prospective bridegroom going for a ride together? We need to talk about your future, yours and mine and my daughter’s.”

“I would like that, Uncle Roderick.”

“That brings up another point of protocol to be decided. What will you call me after you are my son-in-law? Bit of a perplexity, what?”

“I’m sure we will be able to come to an amenable solution,
Uncle
Roderick!” laughed Percy.

They met Stevie in the entryway.

“Hello, Lord Snowdon,” he said. “Percy, I was on my way to find you and offer my congratulations. I only heard this morning.”

“Thank you, Stevie,” smiled Percy as the two friends shook hands.

The three continued outside toward the stables.

“Stevie, my good man, Percy and I fancy a ride today. Saddle me the black demon. What is your fancy, Percy, my boy?”

“Red Rhud, I think,” replied Percy. “But are you sure the stallion is wise, Uncle Roderick? Florilyn tells me he’s dangerous.”

“Bah! Women’s talk. I can master any horse. I am in such high spirits I am ready to take on the world. You have made me a happy man, Percy, my boy.”

Percy glanced toward Stevie with concern. Stevie’s face registered the same anxiety. He was well acquainted with the dangerous temperament of the stallion.

But the viscount was insistent. Stevie therefore set about saddling him, while keeping a wary eye on the beast’s eyes and ears.

The River between the Ridges

P
ercy and Lord Snowdon left the grounds eastward. Without intending it but with little choice, Percy’s uncle led out at a reckless pace. The stallion had not been aired for days and was fierce with energy. It was all Percy could do to keep up.

This was his first ride this summer on Red Rhud’s back. As he had noticed with Grey Tide, she had lost a step from previous visits. He was not able to draw alongside his uncle until they were a mile from the manor and the stallion’s initial burst of fiery energy was somewhat dissipated.

“That is some spunky animal!” shouted Percy as he tried to catch up.

“A noble beast,” rejoined his uncle over his shoulder. “As soon as I have the chance, I hope to race him in Manchester.”

“Who will ride him?”

“I’ll get someone. Maybe Courtenay. He can handle him.”

“Are you sure racing a horse like that is a good idea?”

“Have you been talking to my wife and daughter?” laughed West-brooke. “Horse racing is a man’s business, Percy, my boy. You can’t make money without risk. Perhaps we shall be partners.”

As Percy at last drew even, the stallion Demon suddenly lurched sideways and snapped with great sharp teeth at Red Rhud’s neck. Percy swerved to the right with a startled cry, nearly toppling out of the saddle.

“Now I am sure that racing that animal is not a good idea.”

“Nonsense, Percy, my boy!” rejoined the viscount. “Spirit, that’s what’s wanted in a champion thoroughbred. This Demon has it, and to spare. He is full of energy, that’s all. He needs to be given the rein, the freedom to run. Let him go at top speed, and he is as easy to handle as any of my wife’s mares.”

With the words he dug in his heels and did just as he said, and again gave Demon the rein. Horse and rider shot off with a speed marvelous to behold had Percy not been terrified for his uncle’s life.

Again he urged Red Rhud on as fast as he dared. But it was not enough to keep pace with his uncle. In spite of the lessons Gwyneth had given him, he was still not completely confident as a horseman. Within moments his uncle was out of sight.

Percy continued up the incline. As he crested the ridge, he gazed frantically for any sign of him. Halfway down the opposite slope far ahead, the black maniacal creature was tearing up great clods. His uncle appeared out of control, jostling about in the saddle.

In the distance, the stallion suddenly stopped abruptly and reared. As far away as he was, Percy heard great whinnying cries. They were not horse sounds of fright but of wrath. Percy galloped on.

His uncle had taken out his riding whip and was shouting and wielding it freely. In the contest of wills between man and enraged beast, however, the whip was not a wise instrument of mediation.

Suddenly Demon reared again and rose nearly erect. He was clearly trying to unseat his rider. His front hooves pawed violently at the air. The viscount only barely held to the saddle.

Demon crashed down on his forelegs, jumping and bucking wildly. Then without warning he broke into another furious gallop. Percy had still not reached them when the two receded again into the distance.

At the bottom of the valley between the two ridges flowed a small river, hardly worthy of the name but of more size than a mere stream. It wound through a rocky channel of uneven terrain strewn with rocks of many sizes and some large boulders. It was a much different course than that of the stream through Gwyneth’s special meadow. It was no place for a wild horse.