What About Cecelia?

by Amelia Grace Treader

  George put the three crowns on the counter, and said “Thank you for your help.”

  “It was my pleasure, sir.” Three crowns, or fifteen shillings, three quarters of a pound, was a significant addition to his salary.

  Outside on the street, Meadows asked him, “What now, sir?”

  “It's late, but do you think that blasted vicar is still at the rectory?”

  “Sir? He was not at all cooperative when we talked to him earlier. Why do you think he would change?”

  “How many names are on your list?”

  “Four, as you remember, sir, the fifth was very unlikely.”

  “It wouldn't take us more than a couple of days to try them all, would it?”

  “I should think not, sir.”

  “Then let's see if his 'ethics' covers saving us a couple of days work.”

  Leaving Meadows and Heulwen at the White Swan, Captain Wood proceeded to St. Mary's and knocked at the vicarage door. He was admitted and shortly thereafter was sitting in the Vicar's study. The Vicar of St. Mary's greeted his visitor on his return trip with a baleful eye. “I told you that I cannot comment on the identity of your cousin's hosts.”

  “The situation is completely different now. I have a short list of possible names. It will only take me a couple of days, at most, to visit them all.”

  The vicar considered for a moment, then asked his servants to fetch them some sherry. “Captain Wood, you place me in a difficult position.”

  “How?”

  “My curate, Mr. Andrews, has gone to visit your cousin. He fancies he is in love with her.”

  Captain Wood rose, “No!”

  “Please sit down. Don't worry, he's a very young man. It's just puppy love.”

  “Still, I should see her before it's too late.”

  The sherry arrived, and the Vicar gave Captain Wood one of the glasses. Then he continued, “If your Miss Wood reciprocates your affections, all will be fine. Unless you're trying to force yourself on her.”

  “I'm not. It's just.”

  “Why don't you tell me what happened?”

  Captain Wood quickly summarized the events, starting from meeting Cecelia in Penyclawdd and finishing with his visit to the circulating library. Along the way, the Vicar asked a few prescient questions. “So you were upset when Mrs. Ames, at the time your fiancée Miss Arnold, left with Mr. Ames?”

  “A little. My pride was hurt that she would prefer him to me. So I went for a walk in the hills around Bath.”

  “Did you give Mrs. Ames cause to elope with her husband?”

  “No, not at all. She's since sent me a letter explaining that she and her husband had a long-standing attachment and only married once he was free from his family's opposition. She even sends her best wishes for Cecelia and me.”

  “And you didn't talk to Miss Wood?”

  “She wasn't awake when I left, and she was gone when I returned. I chased after her, but, well, we kept missing each other.”

  “Missing each other?”

  “She was staying overnight at the ferry inn in Aust while I rushed across the Severn on that ferry during the evening. Then the ferry captain took her to the inn where I stayed overnight, but I'd already ridden to Swansea in search of her.”

  “Oh, dear. I hope when you f ind her, that you can laugh over this.”

  “When I find her?”

  “I'll give you the directions, but first I must crave a boon from you.”

  “What?”

  “Could you please wait until tomorrow afternoon?'

  “Why?”

  “My curate, Mr. Andrews is at St. Fili's, that’s in Rhossili, where Mr. Hopwell is the vicar. I'd appreciate it if you'd give him time to return before you pursue Miss Wood. He won't be back until mid-day tomorrow. I'd rather you not meet him until I've had time to console him.”

  “I see, and if she's agreed to his proposal?”

  “Then she didn't love you very much, and my door will be open to console you.”

  “I'll wait. I've had enough fighting in my life. I'm done with it.”

  “Thank you Captain Wood, and may I add my best wishes for you. From what I've heard, Miss Wood is a young woman of considerable spirit and enterprise. Mr. Andrews, while an estimable man, needs a calmer and more reflective helpmate.”

  15. The Quarry is Sighted.

  Mr. Andrews feverishly urged his horse onward. His slug of a gelding only responded in snatches before returning to its ambling gait. He shouted at it,“You, you vile animal. How I wish I had even one of the horses from my father's estate. I'd be there by now.”

  The 'there' he was aiming for was St. Fili's vicarage in Rhossili. The 'now' was as soon as he could be, at least early enough in the afternoon to take Cecelia for a walk and tell her what he felt about her before that man found her. His impatience was ill-founded. The gelding actually worked hard and pulled his gig into the vicarage yard well before dinner. He had made good time. It helped that he went down the steepest grade of the trip on the way there. He threw the leads over a fence post and tied them fast. Then he set off in search of Cecelia.

  She was in the barn consulting with her uncle about an unprofitable cow. “I'm sorry uncle, but it's most likely time to call for the butcher on this one. Even if she has another calf, it won't be a good one. Why Mr. Andrews what brings you to Rhossili?”

  “Can we take a walk? I have something to ask you.”

  “Can't you ask me here?”

  “No. It's personal, private, and for you alone.”

  Her uncle, having a good idea of what the curate wanted to say, simply smiled, and then suggested that they go. Cecelia obliged, “Where would you like to walk?”

  “Where ever you would like.”

  “My favorite walk, with the most romantic views, is up on top of the down.”

  “Then let's go there.”

  Cecelia gave her hands a quick rinse in one of the watering troughs and then sped off. Mr. Andrews hurried to stay with her. She headed for the path to the top of the down via the village. It was longer than trying to climb directly to the top of the down from the vicarage. What it lost by being longer it made up for with an easier grade. It only had a quarter mile of thirty-five percent grade instead of what was almost a sheer cliff face. While they were on the level, Mr. Andrews could just keep up with her. Once they reached the grade he fell behind. When they reached the steep part of the grade he had to stop and catch his breath. She would stop, turn and shout to him, “Come on, Mr. Andrews, you're falling behind!” To which he would look up at her, take in a few deep breaths and try to catch up with the object of his affections.

  She was sitting on a boulder to the ocean side of the path when he finally made it. “Well, we're here. What was it that you wanted to say to me? Something that is so important and private?”

  He panted, “Let me catch my breath.” After a few minutes of heavy breathing on his part, and calmly surveying the channel on hers, he was ready.

  “Miss Wood, dare I say Cecelia?”

  “If you want, I'm not inclined to excessive formality.”

  “Cecelia, my love, my heart's own true desire.”

  Cecelia found herself the center of a man's attention and declared interest. It was a decidedly awkward place for her. Never having been the object of a marriage proposal, she was unsure of what she should do. So she listened.

  Mr. Andrews continued, “Ever since I met you I have felt that we were destined to be partners in life. That we were meant for each other.” He got down on one knee and held her hand.

  “Will you marry me?”

  “I, I, don't know.”

  “One word will make me the happiest man in the world, and another, shorter word will leave me cast down forever.”

  “Oh, come on, Mr. Andrews, you will certainly get over it if I say no.”

  “No, not ever, my love for you is eternal, it burns like the morning star, fair Adonisix.”

  “Don't you mean Venus or Aphrodite?”<
br />
  He stuttered in confusion, then continued, “Like the morning star, fair Aphrodite.”

  Cecelia thought for a moment. She had never thought that she, like Jane, could be confronted with being engaged in marriage without a true, deep, and abiding love. Mr. Andrews was a nice, undemanding man. He'd be a comfortable husband, but it would be a marriage without the passion that she felt about Captain Wood.

  “Mr. Andrews, I like and respect you very much. I'm not sure that I love you. Can you give me time to think?”

  “As much time as it takes, my love, as long as the answer in the end is 'yes'.”

  “I have to warn you that it might be 'no'.”

  “As long as it isn't 'no' right now, I'll be happy.”

  “Mr. Andrews, my answer is, and must remain for now, a definite 'maybe'.”

  He was crestfallen, but accepted her answer. They walked together back down to the vicarage.

  As was usual for when he came to visit, Mr. Andrews stayed for dinner. Cecelia was unusually quiet and didn't participate in the conversations. Not that it was easy to notice with the noise and distraction her nieces and nephews made. Mr. Andrews and Mr. Hopkins tried to maintain an elevated and scholarly conversation despite the high level of background noise.

  At the end of dinner, Mrs. Hopkins called her children and Cecelia away to let the men enjoy their theological discussions. If those paled there was always the port and snuff. She immediately pulled Cecelia away from the parlor and asked her. “Cecelia, you were distracted all dinner, you hardly said a word, what happened?”

  “Mr. Andrews proposed to me.”

  “Did you accept?”

  “No, I said I'd have to think about it.”

  “Good.”

  “Why Aunt?”

  “I don't think he's the right man for you.”

  “Isn't that my decision?”

  “Yes, but please don't rush into it.”

  “He seems to think highly of me.”

  “I know, that's why he's been visiting. Still please don't accept him, at least not for a while.”

  “Is there something you're not telling me?”

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, yes there is something I'm not about to tell you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I'm your aunt. Your older and wiser aunt.”

  “You must tell me. Is it about Mr. Andrews? Is there some terrible secret that I should know?”

  “Well, no secrets. He's an honorable young man as far as I know.” Here she paused, trying to think up a plausible story that would satisfy her niece and not either get her hopes up or depress them. “He's just a curate. Eventually he'll be a vicar and maybe even a bishop. But right now you can't marry him, at least not until he has secured a good living.”

  “I was planning on writing my friend Sir Charles Somerset to see if he had any livings at his disposal.”

  “If you want to do that, fine, but don't commit yourself to him until you hear he has one. It could be a very long engagement, and those don't usually work well.”

  “In truth, Aunt Hopwell, I wasn't planning on accepting him. He seems a bit colorless. It's just how do I decline without hurting his feelings? He was so helpful and is a nice man.”

  “I don't know, but maybe circumstances will intervene.”

  “Circumstances?”

  “He could meet another young lady.”

  “That would be best. Shouldn't we return to the children? They'll be curious about our conversation, and might ask the wrong question when Mr. Andrews and my uncle join us.”

  In the morning, after they had broken their fasts, Mr. Andrews asked Miss Wood if she could escort him to the stables while he harnessed his horse to the gig. Her uncle declined when she asked for his escort. On the way to the stables, Mr. Andrews asked, “Did you think about what I asked you yesterday?”

  “I did.”

  “Do you have an answer for me?”

  “No.” He was shocked, “Did you mean an answer of no? You might not get another proposal.”

  “No, I meant I still don't have an answer. It's still 'maybe'.”

  “Is this what your aunt was discussing with you while I was closeted with your uncle?”

  “Some of it.”

  “Can I ask what she told you?”

  “You can, but I might not tell you.”

  “What did she tell you? Was it to say no to me?”

  “No. She was reasonable and wanted me to be reasonable as well. She told me to wait, to take my time to make my decision, and that is what I will do.”

  “It leaves me on tenterhooks. Please put me out of my misery and say 'yes'.”

  “I'm sorry, but I will follow my aunt's advice on this matter. She wants me to make a reasoned rational decision. I hope 'maybe' is better than 'no', because if I'm pressed too hard I will say 'no'.”

  “Then I won't press you. Please don't forget me.”

  “I won't.” She smiled at him, which caused his heart to skip.

  She helped place his horse between the thills of his gig, and buckle it in. Then after a quick check to make sure the carriage wasn't falling apart, Mr. Andrews was off. The duties of his office at St. Marry's in Swansea were calling.

  Back in Swansea, Captain Wood awoke with a start. It was early in the morning. After a fitful and ultimately fruitless attempt to return to sleep, he pushed Heulwen off his bed, rose and called for his valet.

  “Meadows, we might as well get going.”

  “Didn't you promise not to arrive in Rhossili until the afternoon, sir?”

  “I did. That does not mean we have to wait here. This place is oppressive. I thought we might drive partway to Rhossili and wait there.”

  “I see, sir. Get away from the city.”

  “Absolutely. I don't want any oversensitive town watchman to throw me in the damned bridewell again, or to have Heulwen run off.”

  “Sir, I'm sure that won't happen.”

  “It's a fifteen mile drive, what if the horse goes lame or the gig breaks? If I'm halfway there I can walk the rest if I start in the middle of the day.”

  “Sir, these are unlikely contingencies. I will bring you your morning water in a short time, and you can get ready when you wish. If you don't feel steady enough to shave, I would be happy to aid you.”

  “Fine, but on your way pass the word to our groom. We need to hire the gig and be ready to go.”

  “I'm sure he has seen to it, sir. You told him several times last evening. However, I will remind him.”

  “Thank you.”

  Under Meadows calming influence, Captain Wood was able to sit and eat a breakfast. He stamped impatiently while his groom brought the gig he had hired to the inn. He walked around it, and after a thorough inspection decided that it would do. Then he asked Meadows to join Heulwen and him on it.

  “Sir? Shouldn't you bring John instead of me?”

  “No. I may need your advice, and if you're here what good is it? Besides Heulwen likes you better than him.”

  “Thank you for your confidence, sir. However, I anticipate no such circumstance should arise.”

  “Never the less, I'd rather have you nearby.” With that he shook the reins and started out of Swansea to the west. An hour later, he pulled into the King's inn in Reynoldston.

  “I think we will wait here.” Heulwen wagged her tail, signaling her approval of the idea.

  “It does appear to be a clement and inviting location, sir. With a fair prospect to entertain the eyes.”

  “I suppose, you haven't dealt with arranging stabling for a gig, have you?

  “I'm sorry to say, sir, that is beyond my experience. I could endeavor to give you satisfaction.”

  “I'll do it. Keep a hold of Heulwen, will you? Can you order a pint for me, and one for yourself if you wish? We can wait out here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They were sitting outside of the inn, enjoying their pints in the fresh morning air,
when a gig pulled up in front. It was Mr. Andrews. The climb from Reynoldston to the commons above was short and steep. This made the King's inn a convenient place to stop and rest the horse before it had a hard exertion. He noticed Captain Wood and frostily tipped his hat, “Captain Wood, I presume.”

  “Yes, I'm sorry I don't quite remember your name. Are you the curate from St. Mary's?”

  “Mr. Andrews, yes.”

  Captain Wood touched his hat to return the greeting, “Mr. Andrews, then.”

  “May I ask what you are doing in Reynoldston?”

  “I'm on my way to Rhossili.”

  The curate started, then asked, “So you've located Miss Wood?”

  “I hope so.”

  “I'll have you know I've proposed to her.”

  “Did she accept you?”

  “Not yet, but she will.”

  “Maybe. I suggest you talk with your vicar when you get back to St. Mary's. Give him my regards.”

  Mr. Andrews demanded, “Did he tell you where she was?”

  “No, I found out myself. I told him I found her, and we had a nice chat.”

  “Damn. I wish I weren't a man of the cloth right now. I'd call you out.”

  “And I'd refuse to accept. I've had enough of fighting to last my entire life.” Captain Wood offered his hand to Mr. Andrews. Eventually the curate accepted it.

  After the curate drove off, Captain Wood told Meadows that it was time to go. He retrieved the gig, called Heulwen to it and started to Rhossili. Despite being a 'sais' and therefor a foreign nuisance, he was able to find his way to it.

  Captain Wood stopped his gig in the village of Rhossili. It was a small place, little more than a few houses at the end of the road. Still, if you didn't know where the vicarage was, it was large enough. After asking directions from several of the inhabitants, he finally found one willing to tell this 'Sais' how to find the vicarage. He turned his gig down the long lane that lead to a small white house at the end. The down towered above him to the right, while the bay swept along below a steep fall to the left. Even though it was a sunny mid-afternoon, a chill sea-breeze made them both glad of their cloaks.