“What it lacks in funds, it more than makes up in beauty.”
“Beauty is nice, but you can't eat it and it doesn't clothe your children. That takes money.”
Cecelia quickly understood what her aunt was asking and was not offended by it, “Oh, Aunt. Of course I shall help pay my way. What did you want me to do?”
“Can we get your interest paid to our bank in Swansea?”
“I don't see why not. I'll need some of that money too. This Bath gown may be elegant, but it's hardly fitting wear if I'm helping around the vicarage and its farm. My farm dresses are all back in Penyclawdd, and I need something to wear at the farm here.”
They had the groom harness a horse into the gig and set off for Swansea. They were mostly silent for the several hours it took to drive to the city. Mrs. Hopwell was silent largely because of her concern about Cecelia's troubles. She spent the time wondering how to ask Cecelia what was wrong without bringing on another display of tears. Cecelia was silent as she took in the beautiful country. It was almost as pretty as Penyclawdd.
Once there, they quickly accomplished their goals. The young man at the bank was especially helpful with this beautiful young customer. Cecelia requested that the bank exchange credentials with their correspondent office in Abergavenny. This would allow her access to her funds in time. Then they repaired to the circulating library where Cecelia added her name to the list of subscribers. She immediately took out her quota of books. A quick stop at the milliner's provided the fabric she'd need for country wear. After a brief nuncheon at one of the inns, they retrieved the gig and started back.
On the way back from Swansea, near Reynoldston, Mrs. Hopwell stopped the gig to rest her horse. She asked her niece, “Last night when I asked you about what happened, you broke into tears.”
Cecelia paled and shook, “Yes I did, didn't I? You aren't going to ask me about that again, are you?.”
“I am, and I want answers from you and not tears, this time. You're almost a grown woman, Cecelia. Act like one.”
“Yes Aunt.”
“What happened in Bath?”
“C-captain Wood.” Cecelia dried up, on the verge of tears.
“Is he the heir to Penyclawdd?”
“Yes.”
“I assume he is a young and handsome man. Otherwise, I don't know why you'd be so bothered about him.”
“Yes he is, very handsome,” Cecelia paused, then blurted out in one breath, “he and his fiancée Miss Arnold and I rented a house in Bath. Miss Arnold ran off because of me. I ruined his happiness.”
“Slow down. I couldn't follow that. Let's start from the beginning. Why were you in Bath?”
“Miss Arnold was lonely at Penyclawdd. Both she and G-g, Captain Wood were going to help me find a husband in Bath. Introduce me to society.”
“Fine. It sounds like they had a fitting plan for you. What next?”
“We took a house, went to concerts and balls. It was so nice.”
“So nice? What then.”
“I introduced Miss Arnold to Mr. Ames. She and he ran off leaving Captain Wood.”
“Is that all?”
“I think George likes me.”
“George?”
“Captain Wood, I think he likes me and I've done him such an evil turn. I can't face him again.”
“What do you think of him?”
“Everything, he's handsome, kind, and fun. I l-love him.” Cecelia's attempt at iron discipline rusted and she broke into tears. Her aunt hugged her like a little girl and said, “There, there Cecelia. Dry your eyes. These things have a way of working out.”
“They do?”
“They do. Trust me. You know I'm very happily married to Mr. Hopwell?”
“Yes. I even, barely, remember going to your wedding after he was ordained in Bath as a little girl.”
“That was a long time ago, I'm glad you remember it. If you'd known me a few years earlier, you'd have seen me in tears over a dashing army captain. Your grandfather forbid our marrying. It was one of the best things he ever did for me.”
“You were in love with someone other than Mr. Hopwell?”
“Oh yes, or at least that's what I thought at the time. I was a silly young thing in those days.” She left unspoken, “like you.” After a pause to let her words sink in, she continued, “I thank God every day for my good fortune. That captain would have been an awful husband.”
“So you're not sorry?”
“Not at all. As I said, I was a silly girl and these things usually work for the best.”
“I'll try to comport myself with more dignity.”
“Cecelia, your conduct is becoming. Just try not to be so weepy.”
Cecelia gave her aunt a weak smile, “I'll do my best.”
13. George the Detective.
Captain Wood sat alone in the front parlor of Penyclawdd house a few days after quitting Swansea. It was a lovely sunny morning where bright white clouds scudded through a clear blue sky. In his opinion the weather should be stormy with rain, floods, thunder that could break windows and hail by the bucket. The morning's good weather only mocked his internal despair. An untasted glass of Madeira sat on the table in front of him. He'd asked for it first thing in the morning. Living in an alcoholic haze seemed the only thing left for him to do. Being thoroughly drunk would make life tolerable again. He took a sip, grimaced and threw the glass and its contents in the fireplace with a resounding crash. There had to be a way to find that woman. There just had to be a way. He called for his valet, “Meadows!” Meadows was a brainy chap. He'd know what to do.
Meadows quickly arrived. “Sir? What is it?”
“Meadows, I don't want to drink myself to a stupid death. Do you have any ideas of how we could find Miss Wood?”
“Unfortunately, no. Not at the moment, Sir. However, I am glad that you don't want to drink yourself ill.”
George rose from his seat and paced. “I wish I knew what Cecelia was doing. Did she ever care for me at all? She must have.”
His, well Cecelia's really, dog, Heulwen watched from where she was sitting. Her ears pricked up at the mention of the word 'Cecelia', then turned flat again when she didn't appear. She whined her distress at the thought.
“Heulwen, what is it girl?”
Meadows interposed, “I think, sir, that your dog needs a walk. I could release her to the garden. Sir.”
“A walk! Meadows you are a genius, that's what I need. A walk will clear my mind, and maybe I can think of a way to find Cecelia.”
Hearing the word 'walk' in close juxtaposition to 'Cecelia', Heulwen jumped up and started barking with excitement. “That's right sunshine. A walk will brighten our day.”
Meadows continued, “I will endeavor to see if any of the local servants have more information about Miss Wood's relatives, sir. Where will your excursion take you?”
“I don't know. I might go up Cwm Bwlch, then climb one or the other of the hills. Be back for supper.”
“Very good idea sir. Exercise soothes many a tormented heart. Be assured that in the meantime I shall do my utmost to establish information as to the whereabouts of Miss Wood's relatives.”
The narrow, stone-fenced and wooded farm lane from Penyclawdd up Cwm Bwlch leads past Llanthony. When not stone-fenced, it was bounded by thick hedges. Captain Wood and Heulwen walked along it, the captain deep in thought and Heulwen carrying a trophy stick. Every few minutes Heulwen would bother the captain until he would throw the stick through a gap into the woods or along the lane. She'd bring it back to repeat the game.
They met Mr. Landor riding down the lane towards town. He cried, “Hallo George! Haven't seen you in a while. How's Jane? I can see Heulwen's grown well, fine dog that.”
“She broke our engagement in Bath and ran off.”
“Really? You don't seem too distraught. Not the devastated bridegroom are you? Mind you I always thought you weren't completely suited to each other. Not like Julia and me.”
“We we
ren't. It was a blessing in disguise for both of us. I sincerely wish her luck with her Mr. Ames.”
“Now if you'd been talking about Cecelia. That would be a different matter. You and Cecelia, now that's a fine match.”
“Walter, do you know where Cecelia's aunt lives?”
“Cecelia, that's the woman for you, Miss Wood. I'd be pleased to give a toast at your wedding breakfast. Not just a toast, why I'll give you a whole speech, an epic poem if you'd like. Why don't you propose to her now that you're free?”
“I don't know where she is.”
“She's good with animals, sweet, well-tempered. Even that Jane of yours liked her much of the time, and that could take some doing. Jane was a difficult woman to please.”
George raised his voice in frustration, “Would you listen to me!”
“Don't shout, now what is it?”
“I want to marry Cecelia.”
“Good, when is the ceremony?”
“I have to find her first, and get her to agree to marry me.”
“How on Earth did you lose her? It's not like she is a key or a shilling. Always loosing those. Tell me everything. Start from the beginning.”
“We were together in Bath and she ran away. Meadows and I think she went to find her aunt. Do you know where her aunt lives?”
“Now why would she flee from Bath?”
Captain Wood’s teeth could be heard grinding as he worked to control his temper.
“Calm down George, I'm only trying to get the facts straight.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you were damned annoying?”
“Many times. Julia does so at least once a day. So Cecelia fled from Bath, did she? Where did she go, and more to the point why aren't you there?”
“I don't know where she is.”
“That will make proposing marriage difficult won't it?”
George paused to catch his temper before answering, “She's probably with her aunt in Swansea.”
“Why don't you look there for her?”
“I did. The town watch threw me in gaol for trying to find her.”
“They did? What on Earth were you doing? They must be hiring a more temperamental sort of watch than when I was your age. We got up to all sorts of larks and nobody much minded. Did I tell you about the time?”
George interrupted what promised to be an extended recursion into Mr. Landor's past. “You are my age, or close enough. Meadows looked too, and neither of us could find her.”
“Brainy fellow, Meadows. If he couldn't find her, then she's not there.”
“Walter, before I cut you up into little tiny pieces of dogmeat for Heulwen's dinner, please tell me what you know about Cecelia's aunt.”
“Don't know anything much about the aunt, she's just some dashed female or another. Lives in Swansea, or thereabouts.” George was about to scream in frustration. “Wait a moment, Cecelia did once tell me something. Not much, but I suppose every little thing I can say helps.”
“What is it?”
“He's a vicar. Not in Swansea but near Swansea. That must be where they pick up their mail or something.”
“A vicar? There aren't that many parishes in Glamorgan County are there?”
“No, not many. Only a hundred or so. I was heading into Abergavenny to see if I could talk some sense into that bloody solicitor of mine, Gabble. I can see if there's a directory of parishes. See if there are any vicars named 'Wood'.”
“Thank you. Can you also find me a list of where the parishes are around Swansea?”
Mr. Landor wrote that down on his list. “Keep a list, you know. Tend to forget things if I don't write them down.
“I'm not surprised.”
“Now I'll walk with you until we get to the Queen's head. Tell you about my new idea for an epic poem. It's about this dog, Gelert. Famous Welsh legend about a loyal creature.”
“Don't you need to see about Mr. Gabble?”
“Oh yes, him, damn fool. Just because I'm a poet, he and his partner in crime, Mr. Gabb, must think I'm a simpleton. I'll tell you about my new epic poem some other time. It's about this dog, Gelert.” He tipped his hat and urged his horse into a canter.
George looked at Heulwen and said, “Well Heulwen, at least we're spared an epic poem, for now. I just couldn't stand it at this moment.”
The dog waggled her trophy at him. It was time for another throw. George took the stick from her. As he tossed it down the road, he wondered, “Why the hint about Gelert? Maybe Meadows would know.”
When Heulwen brought back her stick, George said to her, “Sorry about this girl, but I think we're having a short walk today. It's back to Penyclawdd for us.”
Meadows met them at the door. He was holding a letter, “This arrived for you, sir. I was of two minds as to whether to open it and send for you if it were important. Since you have arrived, you may see for yourself.”
George looked at the letter, which was poorly addressed and was written in a relatively uncultured hand. It was something of a small miracle that it had arrived at all. What he found was well worth the few shillings he paid for it.
Captain Wood
Penyclawdd Wales.
Dear Sir
You requested that any information about a Miss Cecelia Wood be forwarded to you. A young woman arrived the evening you did, and was scared of the crossing. She stayed the night in our inn. Had I known of your interest, I would have introduced you to her when you arrived. That morning I asked her name and she said it was a 'Miss Jane Arnold'. She knew Miss Wood's first name without my telling her, and after pressing admitted she was a Miss Cecelia Wood. Despite her wishes, we stopped at the Anchor, but you were gone. She caught the stage to Swansea with the intent of lodging with her aunt and uncle. I made sure she was on the stage. Something she said left me with the impression that her uncle was a vicar or a clergyman of some sort. She didn't tell me the name.
Sincrly
Josaiah Finch
Captain and proprietor, Aust Ferry
George stood speechless for a full minute. To have come so close. Not just once, but twice. He walked into the parlor in a daze and sat, still dumbfounded. Eventually he spoke, “Meadows, I don't believe it. She was there. She was at the ferry and I rode past her. I hurried out of Chepstow to search for her and she would have been dropped into my arms had I delayed.”
Meadows sympathized, “Well, sir, these things happen. I did inquire of the servants and found that her uncle was a vicar somewhere in Glamorgan County.”
“Actually Meadows it must have been three times. The stage undoubtedly arrived in Swansea while I was out looking for her aunt, or in that blasted bridewell. If I'd tarried at the White Swan, she'd have walked into me.”
“Most unfortunate, sir. It also occurred to me, while you were out, to check which bank her family used. The interest from her four-percents must be sent somewhere, and maybe she has arranged for it to go to her current abode.”
“I suppose we can check. At least see if they'd tell us where the interest is sent. Which bank?”
“Bevan's bank, there is a correspondent bank in Abergavenny.”
“Keep Heulwen here, I'm off to Abergavenny, and she can only get into trouble if she follows me.”
“Yes sir.”
It was approaching mid-afternoon in Abergavenny when Captain Wood rode into town. He stopped at the King's head, next to the farmer's market and arranged for his horse. Then he strode out in search of Bevan's bank. Perhaps fortunately he ran into Mr. Landor on the way.
“Captain Wood! What brings to you to Abergavenny? I thought you were planning to walk in the hills. It's such fine weather.”
“Meadows suggested I look at Cecelia's bank. Maybe they've received a letter from her.”
“If they'll tell you.”
“Worth a try.”
“Speaking of banking, George, you owe me two pounds.”
“Two pounds?”
“For this. Mr. Landor pulled a copy of 'A Topographical
Dictionary of The Dominion of Wales' from his pocket. “It's the 1811 edition, and lists all the parishes. Dashed useful if you're planning to search for a vicar, I'd say.”
“I don't have it on me, only a few shillings.”
“You can owe me,” Mr. Landor handed Captain Wood the book. “So Bevan's is where the Wood's banked is it?”
“That's what Meadows heard from the other servants.”
“Then, tally-ho. I was on my way home, but Julia won't mind my being late. Especially if I have an amusing anecdote to tell her. She likes Cecelia, have to include her in your wedding.” He led the way to the bank, and barged in.
A highly frosty version of, “What can I do for you, sir?” passed through the air and greeted them. “We are about to close for the day.”
“Yes, well, um.” George was, uncharacteristically hesitant. So Walter spoke up for him, “I say, old chap, have you received any correspondence from a Miss Cecelia Wood, lately of Penyclawdd?”
The clerk gave them a stare that was, if anything, even icier than his initial greeting, and replied, “We don't discuss our client's private business with other people.”
“I'm not 'other people',” George shot back a heated response, “I'm her cousin, Captain Wood from Penyclawdd. I need to find out where to send her the payment for a horse she sold last month.”
“Oh,” the man hesitated in thought, then continued, “Well, then, I guess that's completely different. Didn't she tell you that she's now using our bank in Swansea?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“You can just give me the funds, and I'll see that she gets them at our correspondent bank in Swansea.”
“Will you take a draft on my bank?”
“Of course sir.”
Ten pounds poorer, and with very little enlightenment resulting from the expense, Captain Wood and Mr. Landor left the bank.
George remarked, “Walter, I suppose you wouldn't say no to a pint before we rode home? At least I know she really is in Swansea. Not sure it was worth ten pounds, but at least I know she really is there.”
What About Cecelia? Page 14