As they pulled into the yard he said, “Well, Meadows, this is it. I hope we haven't been misled.”
“Surely not sir. Notice that Heulwen is getting excited.”
“That's true.” He stopped in the yard, dismounted and tied the reins to a post. Heulwen leaped from the gig and shot off on an errand of her own. Then he knocked on the door, with his heart thumping in his throat. The door opened and a distinguished looking woman in her mid-thirties opened it.
“Captain Wood, I presume. I wondered how long it would take you to find us.”
“Didn't I ask you for directions in Swansea yesterday?”
“I think you did. Who is your companion?”
“My man Meadows. Is Miss Wood here?”
“I'm afraid she's out. Probably traipsing about the down and reading poetry. We picked up a book of it at the library yesterday.”
“I know. Byron, wasn't it?”
“Thorough, aren't you? Why don't you come inside and wait in comfort. There is much we should discuss, and I'd like to get to know you better. Especially if we are to be related.”
“I'd be very happy to. Meadows, can you see about Heulwen?”
“I'm afraid, sir, she has run off. I'm sure she'll return.”
The two men entered the house and were introduced to the vicar. Mr. Hopwell inspected Captain Wood and then said, “So you are this famous Captain Wood? The one my niece won't tell us about.”
“I am.”
“You must know that I am now acting as guardian for her. So I should inquire about your means and background.”
“I can support her, if that's what you mean. She is here, isn't she?”
“Oh yes. She's just wandered off somewhere. Takes a book of poetry and reads it outside.”
“Is she engaged to that curate?”
“Mr. Andrews? I don't think so. Mary, dear, did she say she was?”
“No she's not.”
“Good. I should be sorry to hear that.”
Captain Wood exploded into laughter, “You'd be sorry! How do you think I'd feel?”
“Before we talk about settlements, where did you plan to wed?”
“Wherever Cecelia would like to. Since you're her uncle, I expect you would like to officiate. This is a beautiful place.”
“That could be arranged. I'll have to write the bishop for a license, but that should not take long to do. That is, unless you have another pastor who you would desire instead of me.”
“No. The ones near Penyclawdd preach mostly in Welsh. It's been so long since I've lived back in Berkshire that the priests I knew there are long departed. I'd much rather you officiate than someone I barely know or can barely remember if I do.”
“Thank you.”
They could hear Heulwen barking in the distance.
Captain Wood demanded, “What is that blasted dog into?”
Meadows reminded him that Heulwen had run off when they arrived.
“Blast! Sorry for the language vicar. Do you mind if I go and call her? I don't want her getting lost. Cecelia, Miss Wood, would be most upset.”
“Certainly, we can discuss the settlement details when you return.”
Captain Wood rose, walked to the vicarage door and began to call for Heulwen. Then he called “Meadows I've just seen her!” and started to run.
Meadows dashed to the door, just in time to see Cecelia dissappear over the crown of the hill that separated the vicarage from the town. The Captain was sprinting uphill after her. While not built for speed, he started after his master.
16. On Rhossili Down.
Cecelia looked out over Rhossili bay and the Bristol Channel from her perch on the top of Rhossili down on a fine Fall afternoon. Behind her the Gower stretched its rocky spine back to the mainland. The wide sweep of the sea and land made this one of her favorite places to be alone and read poetry. Whenever she could steal a few hours away from helping her Aunt with the children or her Uncle with his farm, she would climb the short steep path to the top of the down. There she could revel in its romantic solitude. Up there on the down neither the village nor the vicarage were visible, and the solitude was a blessing. While she still missed the hills around Penyclawdd, this came a close second in her heart as a place she could love.
She opened her slim volume of Byron's verse and began to readx.
Whene'er I view those lips of thine,
Their hue invites my fervent kiss;
Yet, I forego that bliss devine,
Alas! It were – unhallowed bliss.
She sighed, remembering that quick kiss in Bath. Then she shook her head and banished the memory. Miss Arnold must have married Captain Wood by now. Perhaps, if he gained preferment, Mr. Andrews would do for her. He certainly wanted her to be his wife. While he wasn't an exciting man, he certainly was an attentive one. He had even visited the vicarage several times since he drove her here. Ostensibly his visits were to clarify 'important points of doctrine', but it was obvious to everyone that in reality were to call on the Vicar's pretty niece. Even Mr. Hopwell had commented on it. She asked the birds, flying far out over the bay, “Maybe, like Aunt Hopwell, I'm cut out to be a vicar's wife. I wonder if Lord Charles has any open livings in his gift.” She sighed again and continued reading.
Whene'er I dream of that pure breast,
How could I dwell upon its snows!
Yet, is the daring wish represt,
For that, - would banish its repose.
If poetry be the food of love, she had her surfeit with this. It would never do to read too much and get carried away in alt. Besides, she knew that the Mr. Hopwell needed her on the farm. Failing that, Mrs. Hopwell would want her to help with the children when they returned from the parish school. So she closed the volume, rose and started back down.
Joyous barking greeted her when she reached the start of the lane that led to the vicarage. “Heulwen! Did you follow me here, all the way from Bath?”
She played with Heulwen, throwing a stick for her to fetch it as they walked along the lane to the vicarage. As soon as the crested the small hill that obscured the house from the village, she stopped. There was a carriage there. A strange carriage. Someone was visiting the vicarage.
A familiar man appeared at the vicarage door. Despite the distance, Cecelia could hear him as he said, “Where is that dratted dog? Heulwen! Heulwen! Come.” Heulwen barked.
He looked up and saw her. Locked in mutual recognition, they froze for a moment. Before he could shout his love for her she started to run. Heulwen followed her, barking encouragement.
Captain Wood turned quickly back into the vicarage door and yelled, “Meadows I've just seen her!” before he sprinted uphill after her. She had the advantage of height and when he arrived, breathless from the exertion, at the village of Rhossili, he could see her running down the path to the point. Heulwen was running and barking alongside her. He called, “Cecelia, I love you, Please don't run!” She didn't hear him, or if she did she ignored it. So he followed her. Meadows struggled along behind. He was followed by Aunt Hopwell and eventually the vicar himself. The commotion attracted a small crowd from the village which followed along behind at a more sedate pace. The path descended to the headlands. A rough rock causeway connected the islands of Worms' Head to the mainland from there. It was only open at low tide. As he stood there and panted he could just see Cecelia working her way to the first island. Heulwen, disliking the rocks and water had remained on the headland and barked at her. The tide was rising, and would soon flood the causeway. She would be trapped on the island. Meadows arrived, and asked him, “Sir, what now?”
“Give me your cloak.”
“Sir?”
“I'm going across, but I doubt I'll return until the next low tide. Possibly later if the moonlight is not bright enough to make our way clear. Miss Wood will need something for warmth.”
Meadows readily handed the Captain his cloak and wished him the best of luck as he climbed down the steep bank and out onto the rocky c
auseway.
The Captain was splashing across the shallow part midway that flooded first when the Vicar and his wife arrived. They all watched as he raced the tide to the island, and breathed a sigh of relief as they spied him climbing onto the first island in the chain. The tide, quickly rising behind him, locked the two of them onto the island.
Mrs. Hopwell turned to Meadows and asked him, “Mr. Meadows, was it?”
“Meadows, Ma'am. Please just Meadows.”
“Your master, this Captain Wood, is he a decent man?”
“One of the best, Ma'am. I am honored to serve him.”
“You know they will have to get married if they stay on the island. His presence overnight will compromise her.”
“I'm sure he will behave as a gentleman.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“I know Ma'am.”
“I could try to find a fisherman willing to pluck them from the island in an hour or so when the tide is high enough for his boat to land.”
“That would not be advisable, Ma'am. It would certainly be the worst thing you could do for him, and I strongly believe for her as well. It is my considered opinion that they will make an excellent match.”
“That is what I hoped to hear from you. Cecelia has been moping for the last weeks, and while Mr. Andrews is an estimable curate he would not do for her. Lacks the strength of personality to match her spirit.”
Heulwen, whined in her anxiety. The rocks and now the tide dissuaded her from crossing. She wouldn't and now couldn't follow her masters. Meadows unbent to stroke her and reassure the poor animal that her masters were fine.
Cecelia sat on the grassy slope of the first part of Worm's head facing out to the Atlantic Ocean. She was out of sight of the mainland, and the crashing of the waves on the rocks below hid any sounds that came from the mainland. She put her head between her hands and wept. The tension of the last few weeks found voice in her sobs. Not even Mr. Andrews the curate could want her now. Not once the story of what she did to Captain Wood was common knowledge.
There was a gentle tap on her shoulder. She looked up and started. It was George. He was smiling at her, and said, “Don't cry my love.”
She jumped up and shouted at him, “Go away! You can't want me! I spoiled your best chance at happiness.”
“Let me be the judge of my happiness.”
“I'm ruined. What I did is unforgivable.”
“Cecelia, please listen to me. I can't be happy without you.”
“No! Maybe you can be happy, but how can I face your family, the Somersets or even the Landors? Everyone expected you to marry Miss Arnold and I broke your engagement by letting you pay attention to me. Even if you don't, they'll see me as soiled goods, a designing hussy of a trollop who stole her husband. I'm ruined and I've ruined you.”
She stomped to the far end of the grassy area and sat down facing away from him. George wasn't sure what he could do, so he waited. Finally, the disk of the sun disappeared beneath the horizon and the chilling mists blew in from the ocean. He quietly walked to Cecelia and put the cloak around her shoulders. He told her, “You'll get cold. Wear this.”
He quietly sat next to her, and waited. Eventually her hand found its way over to his. He began to talk with her again and whispered, “Cecelia?”
“Yes?”
“I wouldn't worry if I were you about how you'll be seen by our friends. Mr. Landor already asked to give a speech at our wedding breakfast.”
She laughed at the thought, “Maybe we should get married before we meet him again. I'm not sure I could stand that.”
“Your Aunt and Uncle expect us to as soon tie the knot as we can. I think he was on the point of writing the bishop for an ordinary license while Meadows and I were talking with them.”
“Ordinary license?”
“So we don't have to post the banns in our home parishes, and can get married in his church, St. Fili's.”
“That would be nice. I'd rather be married by my uncle than some stranger.” She nestled closer to him. His warmth felt nice, especially in comparison to the cool Fall evening.
“I had another letter from Jane. From Mrs. Ames.” Cecelia stiffened. This was it, the accusations of home-wrecking. “She and Mr. Ames had a long-standing acquaintance. They were engaged and then not engaged long before we met. They met long before she met you. You didn't introduce them to each other in Bath, because he came in search of her. So it was a very lucky break for me and, honestly, for her when she met him again in Bath. By the way, she wishes us the best luck in her latest letter.”
“Miss Arnold wrote you a pleasant letter? After running off?”
“I think she was angling for an invitation to our wedding, or failing that more riding lessons.”
“Oh, I think not. It would be rather awkward.” She paused in thought, then continued, “You mean I was upset over nothing?”
“Not nothing, but I wish you had waited for me. You know I nearly found you three times when you ran off?”
“Yes, I do. Two times at least, when was the third? I thought it was my good luck that you missed me. I was wrong wasn't I?”
George squeezed her hand. “Very wrong. The third time was in Swansea. I was looking for you elsewhere when you arrived on the stage. You did give me an interesting chase. I know the south of Wales far better than I did. Though I could have done without a week in the Swansea bridewell.”
“What did you do to deserve that?”
“I was asking about your aunt by trying to knock at every door in Swansea. The town watch did not approve of it. I've become notorious in Swansea.”
Cecelia laughed at the thought, then added, “It is funny. You're such an honest man, to be put in the bridewell. Still, I'm sorry for you.”
“At least I wasn't pressed into the navy.”
They sat together for a few more minutes, in silence, then George pulled Cecelia's face towards his. He gave her a solid, meaningful, kiss, which she gladly reciprocated. Then he stated, “You know, Miss Wood, I haven't asked you to be Mrs. Wood yet. What do you say?”
She squeezed his hand, “What do you think?” Then she pulled him close and they kissed. “Yes, of course.”
The chill in the air deepened as the night wore on. George and Cecelia held each other closely underneath the cloak for warmth. George explained to her, “This is what we did in Spain, when we were caught out in the Pyrenees in winter.” Cecelia didn't object, since it involved holding George as close to her as she could. Their mutual warmth allowed them to sleep fitfully through the night. It was too cold to think of much other than staying warm. Marginal hypothermia is not conducive of romantic activity even in the best of times.
During one of his less sleepy interludes, George noticed a light coming from the direction of the mainland. A few minutes later he was gently roused by his valet. Meadows stood there holding a lantern and accompanied by one of the vicar's servants. The servant was carrying an assorted set of oddments that Meadows thought could be useful.
“Sir it is low tide. We were not sure if you and Miss Wood desired to cross to the mainland at the earliest opportunity or whether you would wait for the daylight.”
“No, go away. We'll wait for daylight.”
“Very good, sir. May I then be the first to congratulate you on your good fortune? Since you are remaining here, may I suggest you use these quilts? It will be more comfortable and warmer for you and Miss Wood. Since the next low tide will be nearer mid-day than sunrise, I will leave some comestibles and a bottle.”
“Meadows, you're a prince among valets. Don't forget the opener.”
“I haven't sir.” He bowed and led the other servant back to the mainland.
Cecelia stirred as they left. “George, what was that?”
“Just my valet, looking after our comfort.” He took the quilts and arranged them for a more comfortable bed. While he still wanted to hold Cecelia as closely as he could, the quilts could let them stretch out and sleep well. Bes
ides, the quilts were significantly warmer than Meadow's cloak.
The sun was just cresting the horizon when they awoke. Cecelia nuzzled her love, “You know, since you've compromised me already, we might as well make it a real compromising. If I know my Aunt Hopwell, we might not get another chance to even hold hands for a few weeks. Not until after we're married.”
George pulled her next to him under the quilts and embraced her. He let his hands roam while they kissed. It left her breathless and a little flushed.
“I think a bed would be more comfortable when we proceed further, don't you? I intend to be married to you for a long time.”
She replied that she thought the grass would be comfortable enough if he could be gentle.
A while later as they were lying there, watching the shorebirds wheel about, there was a call from offshore, “Do you want any help?”
Captain Wood sat up and shouted back, “No, we're fine here. We'll just wait for low tide.”
“Didn't think so, but I had to ask.”
Cecelia squeezed her lover, “I know where we can wander and be alone this evening. That is if my aunt won't insist on being a chaperon.”
“And is it a place we can avoid nosy fisherman?”
After consuming the breakfast, including the bottle of sparkling hock, Meadows had left for them, they waited for the tide to sink low enough to walk to the mainland. They held hands, at least while they could, as much of the rocky causeway was too rough to walk side by side. As they trudged up the steep incline at the edge of the causeway they were met by Meadows and Heulwen.
Once their dog calmed enough to stop barking and let them converse, Meadows said, “Sir, I am truly pleased to see that you and Miss Wood have finally agreed to be wed. At least I presume from both your joyful demeanors that congratulations are in order.”
“Yes.”
“Then I have one question for you. Do you intend to remain in Penyclawdd?”
What About Cecelia? Page 17