How handsome Logan looked! Never on the floor of Parliament, thought Allison, could he have been so distinguished! Joy and fatherly pride beamed from his face; the twinkling eyes and broad smile inevitably reminded Allison of the Logan in his younger days. His smiling eyes had always been full of life. But today they were filled to overflowing with the exhilaration of having his daughter’s arm through his, and knowing that their love, long lost, was now marvelously and mutually shared to the fullest. His grip on Hilary as they slowly moved forward with the music gave evidence that he might have difficulty giving her away when the moment came.
Logan turned his head slightly and smiled down at her, as if he could still not believe his good fortune in discovering his daughter. At last the tracks appeared down his cheeks. But no one thought the less of him, for his tears were caused by the joy and thanksgiving only a father can know on the day of his daughter’s marriage.
Hilary herself came down the grassy walkway the perfect vision of the bride. Though her white gown was simple and understated, the overall effect was nonetheless elegant. The dress was silk, overlayed with lace. The flounced, over-the-shoulder peasant neckline beautifully set off Lady Margaret’s gold locket. A ring of spring flowers, all gathered from Dorey’s greenhouse or upon the hills themselves, adorned her amber hair, and a short veil hung down to her shoulders. In her hands she carried a matching bouquet.
Allison’s lip trembled. Here indeed was the true treasure of Stonewycke! The box they had retrieved could never compare with the wealth that now graced Dorey’s garden. It had been with them all along, in the heritage of God’s presence abiding within this family, and this land, through the centuries, a pearl of great price now visible for the world to see. No doubt Maggie and Joanna were watching, sharing the fulfillment Allison felt.
Who could tell how far into the future this eternal treasure would extend? God’s very life was waiting to be instilled within those yet unborn. The heritage would continue, as His Word promised, even to a thousand generations of those who loved Him and kept His commands.
———
Logan and Hilary reached the end of the aisle. The violins stopped, and Rev. Macauley stepped forward.
“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”
Logan cast a wistful yet loving glance down at his daughter, then smiled through the tears he was not ashamed to show.
In that moment Hilary realized anew that she had become part of something much larger than her limited vision could grasp. She had been swept into an ongoing stream of generations, every one of which had to “choose this day whom they would serve.” None who had gone before had been perfect, yet each had left his or her own special mark upon the family. She could not help but wonder what would be her stamp of individuality, and Ashley’s.
Hilary smiled up at Logan. Perhaps the minister’s question was a more difficult one than for most fathers. After all, they had just found each other, and now he was being asked to give her away all over again! But Logan knew he would never lose the companionship which had begun to grow between them.
“Her mother and I!” came his buoyant answer. Then he leaned over and tenderly kissed her cheek.
“I love you, Father,” Hilary whispered.
Logan gave her arm a final squeeze, then took her hand and offered it to Ashley.
Hilary and Ashley now moved side by side in front of the altar, and proceeded to pledge their lifelong commitment to one other, before family and friends, and the great cloud of witnesses watching from above.
The village down the hill was quiet and nearly empty. The shoreline stretching west and east was calm; the many vessels tied to their moorings in the harbor sat idle and unconcerned. Little work was being done today in the valley called Strathy. A great hush seemed to have descended upon the land. No soul was present on the foothills to the south, upon whose heather-covered slopes had ridden the progenitors of the heritage that was at this moment being rediscovered anew. In the distance, great silent white clouds hung over the Highlands. All life seemed to have paused in the region and come to rest upon the couple now dedicating themselves to each other before family, friends, and God.
The sun glowed upon Hilary and Ashley, and a gentle sea breeze wafted in from offshore, as if offering a loving benediction from their dear Father in heaven who had unfailingly led them on these converging paths where their lives and love were now joining as one. Also as a reminder that His Spirit would continue with them always.
Epilogue
Slowly the line of visitors wound its way along the corridor toward the East Wing of the great house.
“As I mentioned,” the guide was saying, “this portion of the castle was for many years in disrepair. Only last spring were the renovations at last completed. Mr. Macintyre oversaw most of the repairs.”
“I’m from America,” said one of the visitors, “and I’ve toured quite a number of castles. It seems as if you never see anyone, even in these that are listed as still being family homes. Does somebody actually live here?”
“Oh yes,” the guide replied, “both the Macintyres and the Jamesons make this their home, but only for part of the year.”
“Macintyre—isn’t he the politician?”
“That’s right. Mr. Macintyre just began his twenty-fifth year as a Member of Parliament. However, his schedule does not permit him to be here more than two or three months out of the year. There has been some talk lately about his retirement, and if that does indeed come to pass, he has made it clear that he and Lady Macintyre will spend the remainder of their lives at Stonewycke. In the meantime, the details of administering the estate fall to Lord Ashley and Lady Hilary.”
“It was my understanding that Lord and Lady Deardon also live in England?” asked a woman near the guide, her greater knowledge of the family betrayed by her Scottish accent.
“That is partially true. They too split their time between the north and south. Mrs. Jameson still functions as the chief editor of The Berkshire Review, of which she is now co-owner. And Lord Deardon remains a professor at Oxford. However, both of them have so arranged their duties and responsibilities that they are able to divide their time between their home in Watlington, the Deardon estate in Cornwall, and here at Stonewycke.”
“How do they manage it?” asked an Englishman with a laugh.
“For one thing, they’re both very efficient and productive,” answered the guide. “But also they have greatly scaled back their commitment of time to the magazine and the university. As some of you may know, Hilary Jameson carries on a rather heavy writing schedule outside the magazine itself, and her husband is involved in several notable archaeological explorations, on some of which his wife accompanies him.”
“When are they here?”
“They manage to be at Stonewycke usually about five or six months out of the year, administering the affairs of the estate, as well as coordinating their other projects. Most of their writing takes place here as well. Lord Deardon is a noted historical scholar whose research he documents completely after every project or expedition. For the two or three months out of the year when neither family can be here, usually falling between March and June, they graciously allow the National Trust of Scotland to conduct these tours of the Stonewycke castle. During this time, the grounds and castle itself are maintained by their factor and excellent staff. Now, if you’ll all just step through this door here, we have arrived at the Heirloom Room, which is, I’m sure, what most of you have come to Stonewycke today to see.”
The guide led the way, followed by the fifteen to twenty people in attendance. The moment they entered, an awed hush fell upon them.
In the center of the room, encased in glass and sitting on a massive bronze pedestal, stood the Stonewycke Reliquary, the most significant ancient historical find in Britain in twenty years, which had, three years earlier, dominated the historical journals, The National Geographic, and Hilary’s Review, as well as gracing the cover of Time and being found wort
hy of a four-page story inside. Once its contents and the box itself had been thoroughly examined by a staff of experts, certain of the items had been given to the British Museum, others to the Scotland Museum of Antiquities, while others had been chosen to remain with the box.
The thin plating that had sheathed the box had been meticulously removed and kept intact as almost a shadow replica of the Reliquary; it was now on display in the Museum of Antiquities along with its sister, the Monymusk Reliquary. The removing of this sheathing had revealed a stunning and minutely complex engraved box, approximately one-eighth inch thick of solid gold, reinforced at all the corners with stronger metals. The box was concluded to be between twelve and fifteen hundred years old. Further research was even at that moment being conducted, a portion of it led by Ashley himself, into a more precise determination of the box’s origins and early history.
The guide then began a brief history of what was known about the priceless gold Reliquary and how it had come to be discovered, as well as describing those items that had been found in it, which were displayed to the side. Slowly and quietly the visitors made their way up close to the box to view it while she spoke, then gradually spread out through the room to see the other Stonewycke mementos the family had chosen to let remain for public view.
Since the discovery of the Reliquary and the attendant publicity, both the Macintyre and Jameson families had been the object of far more notoriety than any of the four was comfortable with. Yet they recognized a certain amount of it as their civic and historical duty as persons in the public spotlight, realizing that time would ultimately diminish interest in the recently publicized find. They did, however, take the precaution to make sure that during their months at Stonewycke, no public tours or visits were allowed, thus preserving what privacy was possible to this nationally known family.
By now Logan was recognized wherever he went, and even on the streets of Aberdeen or Edinburgh was constantly hounded for his autograph. His eyes still sparkled, his step still bounced, and he still bought his papers from the newsboys on the sidewalks of London.
Every day when she was at Stonewycke, Allison managed either to visit one of the women from the valley or have several up to the castle for tea. The stories told in fond tones by some of the farmers’ wives began to sound very much like those told of Joanna twenty years earlier.
Suzanne still editorialized for the Review, though she had begun to give politics more serious consideration than when Hilary first mentioned it to her. She and Murry had hit it off immediately. Neither had seen anyone else socially for over two years.
Hilary had retold about two-thirds of Stonewycke’s story from Joanna’s journal and was trying to interest a publisher. She had been trying to talk Ashley into an excavation of the Braenock Ridge area as part of his research.
Logan and Donald Creary had together gone into the business of raising long-haired Highland bulls for export to Germany, and the venture had turned rather lucrative for both.
Ashley’s closet obsession with mystery writing remained solely the family’s secret. He managed to continue to write one new novel about every twelve to eighteen months, and the diverted royalties helped keep Stonewycke in the black for many years to come.
Let this be written for a future generation . . .
. . . He established the law in Israel, which he commanded our forefathers to teach their children, so the next generation would know them, even the children yet to be born, and they in turn would tell their children . . .
. . . Then would they put their trust in God and would not forget his deeds, but would keep his commands . . . through the generations to come of those who love him and keep his commands.
Psalm 78:4–7
About the Authors
Michael Phillips is a bestselling author with more than seventy of his own titles, ranging from historical novels to contemporary whodunits, from fantasy to biblical commentary. He’s also served as editor of many more books, adapting the works of author George MacDonald (1824–1905) for today’s reader, and his efforts have since generated a renewed interest in MacDonald. Michael and his family spend time each year in Scotland but make their home in California. To learn more about the author and his books, find him on Facebook or visit macdonaldphillips.com.
Judith Pella is a bestselling, award-winning author whose writing career spans more than two decades. Her in-depth historical and geographical research combines with her skillful storytelling to provide readers with dramatic, thought-provoking novels. Judith and her family make their home in Oregon.
Fiction by Michael Phillips
THE RUSSIANS*
The Crown and the Crucible • A House Divided • Travail and Triumph
THE STONEWYCKE TRILOGY*
The Heather Hills of Stonewycke • Flight from Stonewycke • Lady of Stonewycke
THE STONEWYCKE LEGACY*
Stranger at Stonewycke • Shadows Over Stonewycke • Treasure of Stonewycke
THE SECRETS OF HEATHERSLEIGH HALL
Wild Grows the Heather in Devon • Wayward Winds
Heathersleigh Homecoming • A New Dawn Over Devon
SHENANDOAH SISTERS
Angels Watching Over Me • A Day to Pick Your Own Cotton
The Color of Your Skin Ain’t the Color of Your Heart • Together Is All We Need
CAROLINA COUSINS
A Perilous Proposal • The Soldier’s Lady
Never Too Late • Miss Katie’s Rosewood
CALEDONIA
Legend of the Celtic Stone • An Ancient Strife
THE HIGHLAND COLLECTION*
Jamie MacLeod: Highland Lass • Robbie Taggart: Highland Sailor
THE JOURNALS OF CORRIE BELLE HOLLISTER
My Father’s World* • Daughter of Grace* • On the Trail of the Truth*
A Place in the Sun* • Sea to Shining Sea • Into the Long Dark Night
Land of the Brave and the Free • A Home for the Heart
SECRETS OF THE SHETLANDS
The Inheritance
*with Judith Pella
Books by Judith Pella
Texas Angel
Heaven’s Road
Beloved Stranger
Mark of the Cross
THE RUSSIANS
The Crown and the Crucible*
A House Divided*
Travail and Triumph*
Heirs of the Motherland
Dawning of Deliverance
White Nights, Red Morning
Passage Into Light
THE STONEWYCKE TRILOGY*
The Heather Hills of Stonewycke
Flight from Stonewycke
Lady of Stonewycke
THE STONEWYCKE LEGACY*
Stranger at Stonewycke
Shadows Over Stonewycke
Treasure of Stonewycke
DAUGHTERS OF FORTUNE
Written on the Wind
Somewhere a Song
Toward the Sunrise
Homeward My Heart
LONE STAR LEGACY
Frontier Lady
Stoner’s Crossing
Warrior’s Song
PATCHWORK CIRCLE
Bachelor’s Puzzle
Sister’s Choice
RIBBONS OF STEEL**
Distant Dreams
A Hope Beyond
A Promise for Tomorrow
RIBBONS WEST**
Westward the Dream
Separate Roads
Ties That Bind
*with Michael Phillips **with Tracie Peterson
ns">share
The Treasure of Stonewycke Page 52