What About Cecelia?

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What About Cecelia? Page 18

by Amelia Grace Treader


  George looked at Cecelia, and then replied, “I think Cecelia would be upset if we didn't.”

  Meadows looked stricken. “Sir, I must respectfully submit.”

  Cecelia interrupted him, “But Captain Wood, I hope we should repair to Bath often, and I have long wanted to see London. Besides, I'm sure your father's estate will eventually need our attention.”

  Meadows gave her a thankful look, “As long as you are not planning to shut yourselves away in Penyclawdd forever, I'd be grateful if I could continue in your service. It is an interesting place, well endowed with bounteous natural beauty, but eventually pales with its unvarying company.”

  “Even with the famous resident poet?”

  “Even with Mr. Landor. Speaking of your resident bard, he has already tracked you here and is at the vicarage. Mrs. Landor will be arriving shortly. Since she is in a delicate state, she is taking her time.”

  “How did he find us?”

  Mr. Landor's voice could be heard booming down from the headland.

  “Sweet Artemis arising from the sea, with attendant Nerites. How are you this morning? Captain Wood, I presume you've said the 'hard word' to Miss Wood, and she accepted you.”

  “Yes! How on Earth did you find us so quickly?”

  “I meant to tell you about this. One of my tenants remembered the name of Cecelia's Aunt. The rest was easy. Should have told you about it two weeks ago. Knew there was something I wanted to tell you. Just couldn't remember what it was, and then it hit me.”

  George felt he wanted to hit him too. “Two weeks! You knew for two weeks. Do you know how hard I worked to find her?”

  Cecelia squeezed his hand and said, “Wasn't I worth the effort?”

  “Of course, my love, but it still doesn't mean I enjoyed it. We could have had two more weeks together.”

  Mr. Landor continued, “You'll forgive me soon enough. I brought you something you'll need. An ordinary license for you and Miss Wood. Left it with the vicar. You can marry as soon as Miss Wood has lived here for four weeks.”

  “Then I suppose you are forgiven.”

  Cecelia smiled at George, “That was yesterday, but I prefer that we wait for Mrs. Landor to arrive.”

  George realized that Mr. Landor was about to accompany them for the entire day. Not that he normally minded the poets' company, but right now he had other things on his mind. He pointed to Rhossili down which towered above the village in the distance. Then he told him, “Walter, Cecelia tells me that the view from the down is intensely romantic. A place that is truly inspiring.”

  Cecelia reinforced his message, “I only wish I had the words to describe it. It is a lovely place to read poetry, and I would think an excellent place to compose verses.”

  Mr. Landor looked at it, and said, “I suppose you are correct. If you'll excuse me.” He then strode off. Cecelia and George watched the waves together for a few minutes to let him get a head-start. Meadows coughed, and said, “With your permission, sir, I will retrieve the quilts.”

  “Thank you.” Meadows departed on his task.

  Cecelia asked George, “Well, my clever man, what are you going to do about Heulwen?”

  “Nothing, she can follow us to the vicarage. She really has brought the sunshine into our lives.”

  Together, hand in hand, then arm in arm, Cecelia and George walked back uphill to the vicarage. They had a few important things to discuss with Mr. Hopwell.

  i It did in 1812 and still does.

  ii Welsh for Sky.

  iii End of Chapter 7 of Sense and Sensibility.

  iv This poem and the next one are from Walter Savage Landor's 'Imaginary Conversations'.

  v Not the 'Spanish disease' or syphilis, but a return of the battle-stress symptoms that necessitated his return from Spain.

  vi A 'Broad reach' is across the face of the wind, with the bow pointing downwind. Depending on the hull and sails, this is usually the fastest direction for a boat to sail.

  vii Including Jane Austen's father.

  viii Apparently, the legend really was a sales pitch made up in the 1790's to encourage tourism. The real Celert was a 7th century Welsh martyr. No one knows if he liked dogs.

  ix Clearly Mr. Andrews is mistaken here. Adonis was male, and the god of beauty and desire. He is overwrought.

  x Byron, To M.S.G.

 

 

 


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