“Today, I think Ireland is evolving, just like us, to reach her ideal state. It is one of my sincere hopes that you remember Eire as a truest companion in a time of uncertainty, a teacher in a time of growing, and a mother in times of certain peril.
“My wish for you, my closest friend in every way that matters, is for the constant rays of well-being to guide your future forward. May this desire travel with you always and thereafter. Remember this; leaving Ireland is not so much an indiscriminate punishment from the land whose future you worked tirelessly to make better. Rather, it was the only way Eire knew to protect a man that loved her so dearly!
“Do you know what I told my father after hearing your last speech? I said to him “give us eleven more men like that, an even dozen, and we may not only win our battle for self-government, though possibly a truly egalitarian society.” Now I see it will be left to others for blazing such paths in times ahead.
“Yet in the here and now I can see no imminent victory. It seems that fate is not quite ready for that battle to be won. Regardless, the Men of Goodhope stand ready, and remnants of the Common Man Movement still remain faithful to lend assistance in whatever way for our cause.
“On a more personal note, three years after your departure, your Grandfather Eamon passed on from severe chills. He was buried in the old Harvey plot, like so many generations before, in your private cemetery high on the promontory. I heard his last words were for our Maker to protect his beloved daughter Mary and grandson Peter, wherever he may be.
“Soon after his passing, your dear mother Mary was framed, we suspect by Major Thurston, in a large arson that destroyed much of Kilmarnie. They just happened to be in the vicinity to find “evidence” linking her to the crime. She was sentenced to Mountjoy Women’s Prison for twenty years.
“Then, through an ironic twist, the actual arsonist was caught by local constabulary two years on after setting similar fires in neighboring villages. He confessed to the Kilmarnie affair after thorough interrogation, setting your mother free of her sentence.
“However, your mother was so sickened with the ordeal she decided to start clean in Australia. There was no one left in her life to make staying at the old homestead a welcoming idea. Fortunately, I managed to meet her on the day of her departure.
“Her last spoken words were to pass along this message to you. She said, “Tell my sweet Peter he was and is the truest and most precious gift this earth gave to me. No physical separations will ever put that bond asunder.” Mary pressed my hands in hers before she bade farewell.
“Then, one more notion came to her and she turned back towards me. Mary said, “Seven years from this very day I will return to Kilmarnie just to see him. If you could tell him, I will be waiting on the grounds of Kilmarnie Schoolhouse for noon sharp. If he does not come, I will know he is lost to me forever on this earth, but never in my heart.”
“As for Aidan, he is still his energetic self, and though advanced in years, still sharp as a tack. Mother sees him around Goodhope House much more often, which she values greatly. There’s definitely a lot of life still left in him. I could never picture a day without him, so I cannot begin to imagine your constant grief for Mary and Eamon.
“As well, while it is on my mind, there is a practical matter at hand which I must make you aware of. I have consulted a solicitor to draw up details, as I am an heir to the Malloy fortune. Being a true believer in equality, my father has provided half the estate for dear Maggie in his will. My task is to bequeath the remaining half which I will inherit.
“To this day, both of us have no children. Therefore, I call upon you to take half of my portion of the estate as your own. In other words, those many years ago when I called you my brother were not an act of spontaneous emotion!
“In your stewardship these monies will attract the best direction of your caring and disciplined heart and mind. Though if you should fall on unfortunate circumstances, your heirs will still inherit your portion. If none still can be found, those proceeds will join the other half of my estate in trust, which will be providing scholarships for young Irish minds with no means.
“As you are perfectly aware, there are serious opponents over here still waiting to locate you. We have it on very good authority there is a bounty for the capture of you and your descendants. So any future communication will be through the Men of Goodhope on their annual visit.
“How I pray for the day when independence puts its glorious glow over this old knowing earth of Ireland! In the strongest of my convictions I know that day will eventually arrive. It will be the day when the land that always loved you loves itself enough to grab its rightful place.
“Be well John. Stay strong and ever diligent. Hold your head as high as any man, though as humble as the lowest serf in the land. Always remain your dignified, wise and gentle self, a man of the people and loved by the people. Or like it is always said about you, a true gentleman of Ireland! Written and felt by your truest friend Duncan.”
This year of 1890 would be the first and only correspondence John would receive from Duncan. He would never write to John again. It was understandable given John’s unique situation.
In reality Duncan took certain risk to send even one letter. Though now there was some closure for John. He could retire many worries and replace them with well wishes. He could mourn the passing of a loved one. He could take good comfort in knowing his mother would be starting a fresh chapter. Finally, he could continue enjoying his present days in Resting Arms.
It may have been well over twenty years since the height of their Common Man Movement, though names like Duncan Malloy, Peter Harvey and Samuel McGee were still revered. They truly loved their land, putting nothing ahead of seeking their fellow citizens’ rights. How John would be humbled to hear his praises still spoken one generation forward.
There were few people on the Emerald Isle that did not know one particular ballad born from the heady days of their Common Man Movement. Bustling pubs and windswept dale alike regularly echoed with words sung from the haunting “Harvey’s Lament.”
One could only imagine John’s reaction if he knew another wave of thinkers, activists and progressives they inspired were sowing seeds for another version of their old cause. His small part in the overall struggle was surely not in vain.
Chapter Twenty-Six
WHISPER SOFTLY THROUGH THE AGES
It is a great end when time marks our memories well
John’s health deteriorated with the slow passing of each painful hour. His once lithe physique had been ravaged into a frail mass of weakening limbs. While he still possessed quick wit and full senses, a constant pain conspired to rob his body of the will to carry on.
“Please, let me out of this misery! I have lived a full and blessed life here in Nova Scotia. My two sons will be well provided for. I just want to have some dignity and join my dear Iris once again. Can’t we end this all now?”
“No Mr. Lawrence,” replied the empathetic caregiver. “There is always hope the tonic will kick in and cure you. It has happened for people in conditions far worse than yours. They now lead good lives, surrounded again by their loved ones. Had they given up hope too early, none of that would have come to pass. Looking into your eyes, I see fear clouding the will of a man with much still to do!”
John Lawrence appreciated these sincere words of hope from loyal Mabel, though he knew his own body well. These somber times reflected a new theme of destruction throughout the fledging Dominion as well as his home. In this time of September 1914, Canada had entered the Great War just one month earlier. All prior notions of the known world were now pulled asunder.
Concerning his own battle, he felt in the final throes of defeat. Reflecting lately on unattended affairs, he remembered one final confession to share with Vincent and Jackson. For years he deliberated whether to mention any of it, yet a voice within him thought it best they be made
aware.
“Mabel, please pass me some writing paper and a pencil. By the way, you deserve a break from being at my side every waking hour! Go and have some time in town for your personal business.”
John’s caretaker dutifully found the requested objects, placing them gingerly on his night table. Then Mabel mulled over his offer before deciding to take advantage.
“Are you sure to be okay Mr. Lawrence if I leave for an hour or so? I do need to run some quick errands in town.”
“Please Mabel, take all the time you need. I will see you in a couple of hours or so.”
Mabel smiled appreciatively and closed the bedroom door behind her. Now John had the privacy needed to reveal a startling secret to his sons. Despite his condition, he began to write with an unusual flourish of energy. His words read as follows.
“My Dear Two Sons,
“Today finds me in weaker condition than yesterday. Yesterday found me worse than the day before. Mabel feels there is still a future for these withering bones of mine, though I know my body well after decades of solid use.
“With both of you away on pressing affairs, I thought it prudent to let you know some things in case I cannot tell you personally. After reading this letter, please respect its confidentiality and burn it. Though beforehand commit every word to memory. It is that important.
“First and most important, I wanted to let you both know my pride in seeing your growth into strong, capable, contributing members in our society. You are both my greatest treasure in this world, bar none!
“As you grew into young men, your mother and I cherished the close bond we fostered amongst us. No problem was too awkward to relate, or obstacle too daunting to overcome. Such fidelity creates a family which not only stands the test of time, but withstands anything! For that we counted our blessings.
“There is so much about life here in Nova Scotia we discussed and lived. There were many great memories, more than I could do justice here. However, I did have a life before here, in a land many miles away from this continent. Please understand my undisclosed reasons not to discuss those chapters of my life. My absolute discretion was and still remains concerning this delicate situation.
“When I pass on, you will become part of my past, though through none of my choosing. While alive, I could keep watch over you to great effect. Soon you both will have to continue acting the same way with each other.
“When my funeral happens, there will be three men making your acquaintance you’ve never met before. Each man will talk like they’ve known about you for some time. Do not be alarmed. These men will talk in a strange accent; one which I lost by the time you boys could even understand words. When these men greet you, they will say “Goodhope and will to your family.” Trust them implicitly, for it may well save your lives!
“They will tell you a tale so remarkable it defies practical logic. Believe it, for every word will be true. Follow their instructions and keep everything in confidence, even from your future wives and children. When the last of you is about to pass, their tale must be relayed to the oldest male survivor. When the last direct male survivor passes, and no word comes from these men, there is something else which must be done.
“From the time you were little there was a spot we always referred to as “our special place”. Know well that three feet under, behind the large blue spruce tree, it has become even more special.
“Many years ago I hid a gold key there. If these men ever ask for it, now you both know its location. Though if no word is forthcoming and no direct male heirs remain in our line, take that key from there and destroy it! No trace of it should remain on this earth. I hold nothing against any future female heirs in all this, only that it was made clear to me long ago this is how it had to be.
“What I have written may seem a small thing indeed, though I cannot stress your complete diligence in the matter. The key came from a most honorable, trusted man, who placed great care in my custodianship. I feel lives may be at stake in all of this. There appears to be much more meaning in its possession than we may ever know.
“When I pass, let these men of accents know one of my sincerest regrets was not living to see my home country gain its independence! Also tell them whenever I heard pipes and fiddle, it still drew tears of fond remembrance.
“Vincent and Jackson, continue to do good things on this earth. Love with sincerity, hope with ambition, befriend in loyalty and judge in humility on the side of right. Through my dealings in life I was fortunate to have a positive impact for the future. You both will be equipped to do the same.
“A substantial sum from my dearest friend in addition to our family holdings will allow no limits to what you can accomplish. I do not want you to follow in my footsteps; make good tracks of your own! When you look back at the road you traveled, make sure your decisions are those which stir pride in the future.
“I know of no stone monument or other means which could honor my small part in the great scheme of time’s passing except one thing. Please attest orally and through generations thereafter the fullness of what I tried to achieve in this land while residing in Resting Arms.
“Be there no light words of my passion for the rights of every fellow man. Let no hushed words deny talk about the convictions of my life. Spoil those who taste the bitter drink of unfound hate with an unwavering tonic of truth.
“There are many things to say and hold dear, though I ask no less vigor than that which I displayed all my life. These are the things which will make me at peace. For then I will know my efforts have left a worthwhile legacy.
“These words I write to you both with all my cherished love and thoughts. John Lawrence.”
Mabel returned from her tasks after only one hour. She was thankful to have been given an opportunity to settle personal affairs. In the last few weeks she could spare little time away from John’s bedside. For despite the best medical assistance in the area, there was little that could be done.
In fact, John’s situation became so dire she resorted to using folksy remedies prescribed by those healers not associated with professional medicine. Circumstances seemed hopeless, though there was no quit in her when it came to John’s care. Mabel’s hope was based in optimism, because she knew reality was far bleaker.
John spoke with much pain when she came to him. He thanked her sincerely for all she tried to accomplish. He then spoke of minor tasks she could perform around the place. Finally, he gave her two envelopes. One was addressed “To Vincent and Jackson in Confidence” while the other said “With Thanks To Mabel”.
She stuffed their letter in her jacket pocket. The other she opened at John’s insistence. Inside was a large quantity of cash, along with a simple note. It read “With much appreciation to a wonderful lady. Use this to take care of yourself in the same fashion you gave to me.”
Mabel looked up with tears of gratitude at the exceptional gift. Then her face froze in shock. She reached over John’s bed and shook him gently. No response came. Mabel immediately checked his pulse to confirm. Now tears of joy turned to streams of devastated bereavement.
Twenty nine years before they said a golden era for Resting Arms had passed with the death of Fletcher Turner. Though under John Lawrence’s guiding hand it thrived even more. Now the heart had been ripped from their community. Everyone knows what happens when the heart beats no longer.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A PLACE WHERE THE SUN NEVER SETS
Sometimes revenge, like love, remains unfulfilled
There are few country estates in England which could match the effortless grandeur of Northworth Woods in Lincolnshire. Generations of Stantons have nurtured her blossoming beauty since the early 1600s, when the first Lord Stanton, Earl of Northworth, oversaw the original building of this majestic house.
Through the decades, as untold wealth and privilege amassed, successive additions were added to the pr
odigious girth of Northworth Woods. Though on today’s lovely early summer morn in 1990, scarce attention was paid to all this. For a somber occasion would be marked within the old halls of this ancient, imposing pile. Lord Thomas Stanton, the 12th Earl of Northworth, had passed on from his beloved home.
Gathered in his favorite study were the current members of his direct family. Watched on all sides by illustrious paintings of dignified ancestors, they sat in rapt attention with stiff upper lip. Soon their trusted solicitor opened the contents of Lord Thomas Stanton’s final will.
Removing his glasses to polish an unseen smudge, he repositioned them on his distinguished face before clearing his throat. Putting papers back down on an expansive antique desk, he began to address everyone assembled.
“Let me begin by conveying my sincere condolences to all of you. As you are all aware, Thomas was more than a client of mine. Since our first meeting back at Oxford as students, the decades following forged a strong bond between us. I feel privileged to have known him well throughout many years. Today I am honored to carry out his final requests.”
Considering the vast assets controlled by Thomas Stanton, his will was relatively straightforward, containing no surprise bequests. At the conclusion of this reading, all assembled thanked the solicitor and prepared to leave.
As Roger Stanton, the eldest son, lifted himself from a cushioned chair, the solicitor requested his presence for a few moments longer. After everyone else had left their presence, the solicitor closed the study’s paneled door.
“Roger, I wish to extend my congratulations to you as heir apparent. It is a heavy responsibility, with all manner of obligations and duties. Through your father’s dedicated teachings, I am sure you have been well prepared! In your capable hands, the line will continue its steadfast tradition for many more years at Northworth Woods.
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