None of those who did know were sad. This was a celebration of sacrifice rather than a time of mourning. “We have enjoyed Heathersleigh as the Lord’s provision for a season,” Jocelyn had said many times. “Now we will relinquish it with equal thanksgiving in our hearts.”
Edlyn and Jocelyn began to reminisce about their memories of Christmas in India. Amanda and Catharine listened with fascination as the sisters talked about another life and another time halfway around the globe. The holiday began a new season between the two Wildecott sisters. Once the door was opened to talk candidly about the past, their respective childhoods, and their parents, a great healing began between them that led to a new and much deeper friendship than they had been able to know as children. Edlyn’s husband, Hugh, developed a great respect for his sister-in-law as a result.
An unplanned time of gift giving began after the plum pudding had been served. Though hers was such a giving heart, Jocelyn, as it turned out, came in for the largest share of the receiving, as perhaps befitted the honor in which she was held by all those present. And she was equally able to receive with the graciousness of the true lady she was.
Stirling started it by presenting her with a paper he had written for one of his university classes, for which no small amount of research had been required, representing a compilation of the events, both military and political, of the entire career of Sir Charles Rutherford, his academic benefactor.
Timothy then presented her with an autographed copy of the Scotsman’s Salted With Fire, the last of his realistic novels, which Timothy had purchased and taken with him to have signed in Italy. As she opened it, he leaned over and whispered to Amanda that she might be interested in it as well, and might find it healing for her own situation.
Jocelyn presented both Sarah and Hector an envelope with a monetary token of her appreciation for their many years of faithful service to the family. And finally she gave each of her daughters brooches left her by her own mother.
————
Two weeks into the new year, Bradbury Crumholtz arrived at Heathersleigh with the final documents for Jocelyn’s signature.
As they sat in the formal lounge, Jocelyn glanced over at her two daughters with a smile and sigh. A few final tears were shed. Yet Amanda and Jocelyn were also filled with excitement about what the Lord was now planning to do in their lives. Catharine had been slow to accept the coming change, yet trusted her mother enough to know it was right. While Amanda felt the rightness of it, Catharine had learned to give thanks for the change in the absence of feelings, through faith.
“Do you want me to deliver the papers?” asked Crumholtz after they had discussed all remaining matters pertinent to the documents and Jocelyn had finalized the transfer with her signature.
“No,” replied Jocelyn, “I think this is something we need to do in person.”
An invitation was sent off that same afternoon to London.
70
Telegram
When the telegram arrived at the Rutherford house on Curzon Street, Martha Rutherford’s heart skipped a beat when she saw whom it was from. As she read, Martha had no idea what Jocelyn was speaking of, but she could hardly wait to show it to Gifford and Geoffrey.
Dear Geoffrey, Martha, and Gifford, the telegram read,
We would like the three of you to visit us at Heathersleigh Hall at your earliest convenience, this weekend if possible. We have a matter to discuss with you of great importance concerning our future and yours. Please telephone if this will be convenient.
Yours warmly,
Jocelyn Rutherford
Gifford could make nothing out of it that evening either. He had hoped that his next visit to Heathersleigh would be under different circumstances, namely, to present thirty-day eviction papers to the wife of his cousin.
But what could they do, he said to himself, other than consent to go make another call, as outsiders, one last time? Within six months he would have his cousin’s brood out of the place anyway.
After revolving the thing in his mind a minute or two, he glanced across the room to his wife.
“You may telephone her as she suggests,” he said. “This weekend will be acceptable.”
71
Shock
When Gifford walked through the doors of Heathersleigh Hall, he was taken aback to see Bradbury Crumholtz on hand, and apparently on intimate terms with the current residents of the place. The banker and the solicitor nodded to one another stiffly.
“Hello, Gifford . . . Martha!” said Jocelyn, giving Martha a warm hug. “I am so glad you have come—please come in . . . hello, Geoffrey!”
“Good morning, Cousin Jocelyn,” replied Geoffrey, smiling pleasantly.
“Hello, Geoffrey,” said Amanda, stepping from beside her mother and embracing her cousin. “It is good to see you again.”
The gesture did not seem to surprise Geoffrey as much as it did his father, and he returned the hug with kindly affection.
“You are looking well, Amanda,” he said stepping back. “—Hello, Catharine!”
“Hello, Geoffrey,” returned Catharine with a cheery smile, shaking Geoffrey’s hand.
Gifford stood in gloomy silence as his wife now hugged each of the women in turn, thinking how absurd were all these trivial pleasantries. And that wife of his cousin’s—that hideous mark on her face . . . with everyone pretending it wasn’t there.
“Come in, all of you!” said Jocelyn. “We have a nice tea all spread out in the east sitting room.”
What was this! thought Gifford as he followed the obnoxiously cheerful troop inside. While the rest visited and while his wife fought back the tears, all he could think was, what was this all about? The infernal woman must have set him some trap. It was just like them, always lording it over his side of the family.
The guests sat down. Jocelyn and Sarah served tea and cakes. Out of the corner of his eye, Gifford noted the sheaf of papers Crumholtz was silently holding, and concluded the worst. He was so accustomed to adversarial relationships that he could conceive of nothing but that Jocelyn must be intent on some scheme of her own.
Jocelyn took a chair and gradually all eyes came to rest on her. Amanda, however, was the first to speak.
“Mother,” she said, “while you are talking with the others, I think I would like to tell Geoffrey myself.”
“Certainly, dear,” replied Jocelyn.
Amanda rose, turning toward her second cousin. “Geoffrey,” she said, “would you come with me?”
“You’re not taking me to the tower again?” he kidded good-naturedly as he rose from his chair.
“No,” replied Amanda. “I think you will find what I have to tell you far more interesting than the tower.”
They left the house. Amanda led the way across the lawn east of the Hall.
No one ever heard, and Geoffrey never told another soul, exactly what Amanda said to him during the next thirty minutes as they made their way slowly through the paths of the heather garden. But when they returned to the house, he had tears in his eyes. They were the first he had shed since boyhood. They would not be the last.
They paused at the door and turned toward one another.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” said Geoffrey.
“You don’t have to say anything, Geoffrey,” replied Amanda, placing her hand on his arm. “It is the right thing to do. The Hall should rightfully be yours.”
“Perhaps, but . . .”
Geoffrey glanced away, overcome yet again by this sudden alteration in his fortunes. They had both changed more than either had realized. From this moment on, though neither would have anticipated it years earlier, they would no longer be mere cousins, but would also be friends.
Geoffrey turned again to face Amanda after a moment. Slowly they embraced with the affection of true relational love. They fell apart without another word, then turned and entered the house to rejoin the others.
Inside the sitting room, meanwhile, Jocelyn was explainin
g the situation to Geoffrey’s parents, doing her best to remain upbeat in spite of Gifford’s stiff formality. Gifford kept one eye warily on Crumholtz, who sat expressionless and unmoving.
“It is quite simple, really,” Jocelyn had just said. “It is our belief that the possession of Heathersleigh Hall many years ago followed the wrong family line—”
At the words Gifford’s ears perked up. He glanced toward Jocelyn with a jerk of his head.
“To right this error,” Jocelyn continued, “we have undertaken legally—”
She glanced in the direction of the solicitor.
“—with the help of Mr. Crumholtz, to transfer the deed of Heathersleigh Hall and its grounds, as well as the title ‘Lord of the Manor,’ to Geoffrey, who, as of the first of March, will be rightfully entitled to both.”
She stopped. The room was silent as a tomb for several seconds.
Gifford sat as one stunned.
He could make no sense of the words. They were actually giving the estate to them . . . without fighting it out in the courts!
The next instant Martha burst into an incoherent babble of weeping. She rose from her chair and within seconds was smothering Jocelyn in a large, exuberant embrace. Her joy came not because they were being given Heathersleigh but from such a gesture of familial love. The poor lady was so hungry for companionship with her kind that her soul gushed with tearful thanksgiving. They could keep Heathersleigh for all she cared! To have a friend like Jocelyn was to her worth any ten country estates!
“But surely you will stay,” she was saying through her tears. “You cannot leave . . . there will be plenty of room for all of us . . . won’t there, Gifford . . . we will be so happy together . . .”
“Thank you, Martha,” said Jocelyn, “but we have made other arrangements.”
“I . . . could not, of course . . . leave the bank,” Gifford was saying, speaking more to himself than the others. “And . . . Geoffrey, well . . . we, er . . . will of course have to consider how best . . .”
He could scarcely find words to speak out of his spinning brain.
“. . . although no denying that . . . we cannot help but acknowledge your . . . er, your generous foresight in this matter . . .”
It was clear he and Martha had absorbed the sudden information differently. Martha immediately thought what a joy it would be to live in the Hall, both families together. Gifford on the other hand wondered what all his prior machinations had not caused him to reflect on, namely what impact the possession of a Devonshire estate would have on his banking career. Neither had he yet absorbed the fine print of Jocelyn’s disclosure, that the estate was not being transferred to him at all, but to his son.
But all these details would filter down into his grey cells over the course of the following days. Why they had chosen to ignore his own claim to the title, once the fact dawned on him, caused him to chaff anew. But once they were out and his own son was legally installed as the owner, he would see what steps might be taken to correct Jocelyn’s blunder in passing him over.
“What . . . other arrangements?” asked Martha. “Surely . . . you will remain at the Hall.”
“Not knowing your plans,” replied Jocelyn, “and whether Geoffrey would take residence, we have made plans to remove ourselves to Heathersleigh Cottage with Mrs. McFee. Charles’s military pension will see to our needs more than adequately.”
These words of Jocelyn’s registered nearly as much disbelief in Gifford’s mind as what she had said a moment ago. Not only were they voluntarily relinquishing a deed and title worth hundreds of thousands of pounds, they actually planned to move off into some silly little cottage in the woods! Charles’s whole family was a pack of simpletons and idiots!
Amanda and Geoffrey walked in. Geoffrey saw from the expressions on the faces of both his parents that they had received the news much as he—with stunned disbelief.
“Our plans are to be out in two months,” Jocelyn continued. “Many of our possessions and much of the furniture, several horses, as well as a large part of the library, we will not have room to keep at the cottage. We hope you will not object to our leaving the greater part of our possessions here. And actually many of them belong to the Hall.” As she spoke, she glanced toward Geoffrey rather than Gifford.
“Uh . . . oh, no . . . of course not, Cousin Jocelyn,” he replied. “No objection whatever. Leave anything you like for as long as you like. But anything you want . . . you may . . . it goes without saying, you may come for at any time.”
The visit did not last much longer. Jocelyn invited them to stay the weekend. Two rooms were ready for them. Martha’s countenance brightened immediately at the prospect. But Gifford insisted they must start back for the city where he had pressing business. In truth, he was so uncomfortable, though delighted, at this unbelievable turn of events that all he could think was that he had to get out of the place.
The following Monday, without consulting his father, Geoffrey Rutherford walked into the office of the president of the bank to present written request for an indefinite leave of absence, effective March 1, to consider and reflect upon his future.
72
New Perspective
Geoffrey Rutherford was still wondering what he had been wondering for weeks—was this all a dream?
What was he doing in the master bedroom of Heathersleigh Hall, with Sarah Minsterly and Hector Farnham calling him “my lord”?
After a month in Devon, he knew he had reached a crossroads of life. Whatever had come before, he could never more be the same person he had been till now. But the transformation was not one of mere outward circumstance. What was taking place was a fundamental change in who he was . . . or perhaps more importantly, who he wanted to be.
What Amanda and Jocelyn had done had shaken the foundations of everything his father had taught him to believe—namely to get all one could however possible. Never had the thought of putting another ahead of oneself entered the creed of Gifford Rutherford, banker, entrepreneur, and amasser of wealth. And that creed he had zealously transmitted to his son from almost the moment he could crawl out of the cradle.
From his earliest childhood Geoffrey’s father had exhorted and pushed him to get ahead, to take advantage, to connive and scheme, even to sneak and lie if it suited his purposes.
Geoffrey had some time ago begun to realize the bankruptcy of such a way of life, however, and knew it made him no happier than it had his father. When and how that divergence with the mammon-philosophy of his upbringing had begun, who could say? It had probably been growing slowly for years. But in all that time, it had not actually occurred to him as a defined and conscious idea in Geoffrey’s mind that such an empty value system, such a hollow and meaningless way of life, could be—more than could be, ought to be—replaced by anything else.
His response during those slow-growing years of unease had been chiefly negative. He only knew that he did not want to follow in his father’s footsteps. When he thought to himself that something more in life might be gained than what his father had achieved in his, the idea was merely a vague sense of what he did not want.
What that “something more” might be, he had not stopped to consider.
Suddenly the changes taking place in his cousin Amanda were striking root in the soil of Geoffrey’s consciousness. She had been just as self-centered as he. If anyone could have been said to be out for herself, it was Amanda.
Yet . . . look at her now!
She had changed—noticeably, visibly. She was a wholly different person.
Why? What had happened? Had she merely “grown up,” or was there more to it?
Geoffrey suspected the latter.
What they had done was such an extraordinary thing! They had turned their backs on, set aside, given away, nearly all they possessed. And they had done so by giving it . . . to him.
What a hugely unselfish act! The realization of the enormous consequences involved had set off a series of domino-like topplings to his moral and
emotional equilibrium.
As he had pondered the incredible thing in recent days, gradually had come into Geoffrey’s brain the familiar verse he had heard recited how many dozen times out of the prayer book while sitting dutifully between his father and mother through the years trying to keep from falling asleep.
If a man will deny himself . . .
Over and over the words hounded him—deny himself . . . deny himself . . .
That’s what they had done. They had given away everything! They had carried out the essence of that principle in a way he had never witnessed before. In light of their sacrifice, this was no stale dogma, but living reality!
Could this be the something more, the specific missing ingredient in his life? Did this account for the change in Amanda? Had she tapped into some new source of life whose foundations lay in the realm of this incredible thing called self-denial?
He rose, left his room, and walked upstairs to the library. Was the family Bible still where Amanda had pointed out to him all the familial clues she had discovered? He wanted to check the exact wording of the verse. Now that it was repeating itself over and over in his brain, he had the sense that he wasn’t remembering the whole thing correctly.
Geoffrey entered the library and flipped on the light. The place still appeared substantially the same, though Jocelyn and Amanda had removed a few books. He went straight to the old secretary whose secret mechanisms and compartments Amanda had shown him. Right now, however, he was interested in secrets of another kind.
There was the Bible lying flat and open to the Psalms.
Where would the verse be . . . probably somewhere in the Gospels. He should have paid more attention when he was younger. He was hopelessly illiterate when it came to this book. He began turning over the large pages.
Wasn’t there something . . . some reference in the back that helped locate what you were looking for?
He turned quickly to the back of the Bible . . . yes, here it was. He began scanning down the lists of words, flipping two or three more pages.
A New Dawn Over Devon Page 31