by Brian John
“I am aware of those visits. The Lord Marcher is no great friend of mine. It is said that the Barony covers more than 30,000 acres hereabouts, and Sir Thomas owns all of the common lands on the mountain. He is also in debt, having invested heavily in a monstrous fairy palace at Bronwydd in Cardiganshire and having taken on the restoration of the castle in Newport............”
“Using borrowed money?”
“I believe so. It’s possible that he wants to dispose of much of the common as a means of raising funds. Perhaps Harry is the prospective purchaser.”
“But the enclosure and sale of the common would cause a revolution, Wilmot!” I spluttered.
He smiled and patted my hand. “Now then, dear lady,” he said, “we had better not get too involved in wild speculation. In due course, we may have some facts to work with; but for the moment, I urge you not to become too agitated.”
I had to agree with him, and promised to keep my imagination under control. Then I said: “Wilmot, my biggest fear, arising from my moment of insanity on the morning after my alleged death, is that my secret will come into the possession of an enemy -- let us say Squire Harry -- and that you will be blackmailed into disposing of the estates for a figure which will leave you destitute.”
“That has occurred to me, Susanna. But I am taking certain measures to guard against the eventuality.”
“I am glad to hear it. And do you know that you are being followed? That fellow strolling along fifty yards behind us, with a rather elegant leather hat, is a man whom I recognize. He has accomplices, of that I am certain, and I suspect that some of them are shadowing you very closely indeed. Our shadowy friend probably took the same train as you from Haverfordwest to Carmarthen.”
“You are very perceptive, my dear friend. Yes, I am aware of what is going on, and again you must accept that I do not feel terribly threatened. If they want my estates, they are more likely to get them with me alive and unharmed than with me dead and my assets distributed among my heirs. So they may spy on me, but they will not hurt me.”
“What about Delilah? Does she know about these spies? And might she not be more at risk than you? These men could even kidnap her and hold her to ransom, as a means of obtaining your estates!”
Wilmot roared with laughter, and his eyes gleamed. “My goodness, Mistress Ravenhill! You are in a very melodramatic frame of mind today, if I may say so! Yes, Delilah knows about the spies. But kidnap and ransom? Impossible! It would take ten men to kidnap her, and if they tried to contain her she would pull down the pillars of their temple, with or without her golden locks! No no -- impossible!”
“Very well, Wilmot. Do you share my view that the threat will be considerably lessened if I simply disappear for a year and leave your enemies, and mine, on the wrong side of the English Channel?”
“You are very wise, Susanna. And much as I will be sad to see you go, I think you are probably right in assuming that an absence would be beneficial to us all. I have it on good authority that Jonas Harry is angry with you. And I beg you to think of your own health -- you have been through death and transfiguration, and I have heard all about your charitable works in Merthyr Tydfil and Cardiff. You must be exhausted. You need a very long holiday, and a good deal of pampering. Enjoy your new fortune, and know that wherever you go on your Grand Tour you carry with you the blessings of all of us who know the truth.”
Later on, when we had said farewell and Wilmot and Delilah had taken their late afternoon train back to Haverfordwest, we noticed that at least one of the spies went west on the same train. Bessie and I returned to our lodgings and organized our travelling trunks and bags. Very early next morning, just as it was getting light, we took the first train to Paddington, before any of Harry’s local spies were awake.
rrr
Transfiguration
A few days later we were in France, travelling as Mrs Ravenhill and Mrs Walter. I insisted from the beginning that there would be no mistress/maid relationship -- we were to travel as two old friends, equal in all things apart from the fact that I was paying. There was no friction between us, and indeed we knew each other so well that we sailed through our travels with a fair following wind and with virtually no debate as to whether to do this or that. I was as comfortable with Bessie as I might have been with a husband of fifty years’ standing, and indeed I thought on many occasions that female company was preferable, at least for ladies of our mature age. As we travelled we reminisced a great deal, and the further we travelled from home, the more nostalgic we became. But we had a wonderful time.
During our first passage through Paris, Bessie found a letter from Will on the bottom of one of her bags, which she had clean forgotten to give me. At the top of the letter “Dear Mistress Martha” was crossed out, and replaced with “My dear Mrs Ravenhill” rather too prominently for comfort.
This is what the letter said:
12th day of June 1855
I write to wish you all the best for your travels in foreign parts, and trust that the insects and poisnous creatures which are, I am relaibly informed, Mistress, very prodigious, will not prove to be too disturbing to your ladylike comforts.
I have to tell you of a very strange thing. Rather, two very strange things. The first very strange thing is that there have been men on the mountain sevral times in recent weeks. Gerallt has seen them, and so have I, and we do hear say that Williams Gelli and Jenkins Penrhiw have also seen them. They creep about most furtively, and try to hide out of sight, but our eyes are sharp and their brains are a bit slow. I saw them once through my spyglass. They have maps, and they seem to be mesuring things. We think that they might be official gentlemen making maps for the goverment, but then surely they would knock on doors and talk to people? Maybe they are mesuring the common and the grazing. There have been strangers in town too, keeping very much to themselves. Four of them. Jake has seen them lurking about on the Parrog. Sombody also saw them making a visit to the castle, so perhaps they are friends of that stuffed-up Lord Marcher.
Now to the other very strange thing, Mistress! You will be very entertained by this, I warrant! The Nightwalker has been seen again on the mountain! Not once, but twice. The first time was some weeks back, some days after your funral, I think it was, when eight diffrent people to the best of my knowlege saw the Nightwalker on the mountain, moving about very slowly and somtimes standing still for a long time, just observing things. Just like in those good old days, Mistress, when you were so scared of him!
Then just yesterday, there he was again! A cloudy and drizzly sort of a day it was, with the low cloud coming and going, and the sun trying to come through. Just standing there, he was, observing things, here and there on the south side of the mountain, and then also spotted in a little break in the cloud, right on the summit. I saw him, and so did Myfanwy and Gerallt, and so did half a dozen others. Mistress Jane also saw him, and came over all frantic, and wept and wailed about ghosts and hauntings and such like. Very sensitive, she is, Mistress, and not at all used to the ways of the country. We explained to her at great length that the Nightwalker may indeed be an apirition, but we said he had been seen on the mountain oftentimes before, in the good old days, and that he never did any harm to nobody. (Apart from harming your equilibryum greatly, Mistress, if I am not much mistaken!) We said she should not worry her pretty head about it, but she is much shaken and stirred.
So it is out and about, all over the place, that the mountain is haunted. And a fellow I met in town today says that it is not the Nightwalker at all, but the Ghost of Mistress Martha up there among the rocks that she loved so well. I nodded, and said that was a very logical thing to think. Now is that not very entertayning, Mistress? Oh dear, I mean Mrs Ravenhill. Write to us now and then, if you will, and report your prodigious adventures.
We are all well, and it is a jolly thing (but the tantrums are very tiring for an old fellow such as me) to have two small children in the house again. If we get news of where you are, we will send reports of t
he harvest and the sheep dipping and such like. The hay is looking good, and will be a week earlier than last year.
I remain Your ever faithful servant
William Owen
PS look out for bears and scorpions, and bandits
I read the letter aloud for Bessie. Then I put it on the fire. “Dear Will!” I sighed. “How I miss him, and Gerallt and Myfanwy! What a kind and genuine man! But I thank my lucky stars that you forgot to give me this letter till now, Bessie, and I thank my guardian angel that it did not fall into the wrong hands. If it had done, I fear that our little game would have come to a premature end.........You really did forget to give me the letter before now?” Bessie smiled enigmatically, and shrugged. “Old age, Mistress,” she said.
“Please, Bessie. Not “Mistress” but ”Susanna”. I see that we have much work to do on the matter of identity. You must try, or we will get into deep trouble, both of us.” Bessie smiled and nodded. There was a long pause, and then she added:
“And the Nightwalker, Susanna. Nothing at all to do with you, I suppose?” I smiled and let her draw her own conclusions.
“Ah, my dear friend Susanna!” she said, rolling her eyes to heaven. “You and your secrets! You are truly just as bad as your half sister.”
As we travelled about, we were two gentlewomen with effectively no limit on our funds. My bank manager in Carmarthen had been very kind before our departure, and had arranged for currency to be made available to me from various banks across Europe. For about a year, from June 1855 to May 1856, we travelled all over Europe, starting in Paris, travelling by train or on the best coaches, and staying in the most luxurious hotels. We spoke Welsh all the time, except when I had to use English or French. We ate so well that we both put on weight, and we drank too much too. Sometimes we laughed so much that we overstepped the bounds of decorum and attracted disapproving glances from certain prim and proper people. But people with money are always forgiven, as I discovered at a very early stage.
We were especially blessed in our travels because Daisy had written introductions for Mrs Susanna Ravenhill, her “beloved aunt”, for counts and princes in every country we visited. I was amazed by the extent of her contacts, and concluded that in her days as a London courtesan she must have got to know all of the top people in Europe, or at least those who wore breeches rather than dresses and who attended the English court. Many of those great counts and princes had undoubtedly been met between the sheets; and others were casual acquaintances about whom she knew more than perhaps she should. So doors opened miraculously everywhere, and we were feted and feasted, and shown sights which ordinary travellers never see. We roamed about in castles and palaces which were strictly guarded private residences, and saw at close quarters many great works of art in private collections. We visited grand opera houses and theatres, and had our fill of musical and other entertainments. For me, the high point was a most moving performance of La Traviata in Venice, to which we were invited by a very charming count and his lady. We hired guides as and when necessary, and sometimes travelled with other companions if we found their company convivial. Three gentlemen fell in love with Bessie (or so they said) but only two fell in love with me, which was very bad for my self-esteem. We became drunk on culture, and every now and then we escaped from the clutches of the nobility and hired simple lodgings in places with wonderful views of mountain or coast, and spent a few days sitting in the shade, reading and snoozing. So the weeks and months passed in unadulterated pleasure. Both of us were blissfully happy. We travelled from Paris to Brussels, into Germany, Austria and Switzerland in the summer, and then went on over the Alps in the autumn to enjoy Venice and Florence in January and February, and then Naples and Rome in the spring. In April we took a sea passage to Cartagena, and embarked upon the final leg of our journey to Granada, Seville, Lisbon, Madrid, and Barcelona. Finally we moved north again, into France, staying in Marseilles, Limoges and finally Paris for the second time.
On 27th February Bessie and I were in Florence, and we had a private party for just the two of us, involving the consumption of a good deal of champagne, to celebrate the first anniversary of my death and transfiguration. I remember it well, for we sat on a hotel balcony by the river Arno, with the most wonderful view of the Ponte Vecchio caught in the light of the setting sun.
There were various troubles in Europe as we travelled, but we managed to steer clear of revolutions and battles, and discovered that two old ladies travelling together can always get help since they threaten nobody and bring out the kinder side of people’s nature. Even fierce soldiers and frontier guards treated us with great courtesy and respect. I insisted on visiting many of the places described for me long ago by Owain, the wonderful man whom I should have married long ago, and never did. He had travelled here, there and everywhere during his wanderings in 1807-1822, and now, after the passage of many years, I even found some people who remembered him.
In our idle moments, as we travelled, we spent many jolly hours inventing more details for the life of Mrs Susanna Ravenhill and her husband Jack, creating details about the children, places of residence, Jack’s career, family events and so forth. As the months passed, I became more and more comfortable with my new name and my new history.
One day, when we were in Italy, Bessie decided to discusses the findings of the Inquest relating to the mystery man who was found on Carningli after the earthquake. She knew of course that the body was indeed that of Moses Lloyd, as suggested by the Coroner at the Inquest back in March of the previous year. She recalled the occasion when I had crawled back to the Plas, more dead than alive, in August 1797, and asked whether that was the consequence of a deadly encounter with Moses. I decided to tell her everything, as I had already told Rose. I saw no need, at this late stage in my life, for secrecy. As I spoke I relived the horror of the occasion and became very emotional, and Bessie needed to console me as only a dear friend can do.
On another day, in Seville, I told Bessie about the strange encounter with the man called Donal in Merthyr Tydfil, and about the men who were following me. I told her of the money, the pocket compass and the maps taken from the spies, and now handed over into the safe keeping of Shemi. Of course we made a link with the contents of Will’s letter, and agreed that two and two should make four, but in truth neither of us could make head or tail of what was going on. We speculated on whether Donal or the spies working for Jonas Harry knew my true identity. Maybe they just suspected it, and were seeking confirmation? But why? Were the spies seeking to blackmail the family or Wilmot, and possibly take control of the estate? I recalled my conversation with Wilmot by the river in Carmarthen, and then forgot all about it.........
Weariness was beginning to affect us by the time we reached Limoges in France and took up a brief residence with a French count whom we had met in Venice. When we were shown to our room, a letter was waiting for me on the dressing table. It was from Wilmot, and read as follows:
Plas Llanychaer, 15th day of March 1856
My Dear Mrs Ravenhill,
I trust that this finds you well and happy. Please give my greetings also to Mistress Bessie, your excellent and valued companion. Delilah and myself are as well as may be expected at the end of a hard winter, with much snow. We envy you as you enjoy the delights of sunshine and high culture in exotic places, and follow your messages with interest, consulting our maps and following your route as best we can, and seeking to imagine your adventures.
Now I have a confession to make. I thought I should hold back on it until you are home again, for fear of spoiling your enjoyment of foreign parts, but Delilah (who is always right) counsels me to inform you of the situation as early as may be, so that you may take action as appropriate. I am writing this letter away from home, and will personally deliver it to the post, for fear that it might otherwise be intercepted.
I have been betrayed. Following our resolution to treat certain information concerning your good self as utterly secret, and not to be revealed to
any other living soul, I have systematically destroyed all letters received from you and have never kept copies of letters sent by my good self. But I have committed certain information to the pages of my appointments book, which is always kept under lock and key in a desk drawer in my office. I have entered up such things as “SR, c/o Mrs Ifans, 29 Pendre, Cardigan, until further notice” and “SR, Hotel de la Rosette, Rue St Germain, Paris, June 12 -29, 1855” -- information as provided in your letters -- so as to keep in touch. But woe is me, idiot and trusting fellow that I am! Unknown to me, our housemaid (who has been taught to read and write by none other than Delilah) has been in possession of a spare key to my desk, and has, I fear, been examining the contents of my appointments book as far back as the troubled time surrounding the death of our dear friend Amos. I found her out the other day, having become suspicious of her on account of a certain friendship which she has developed for a man whom I have cause to mistrust. That man is called Silas Reynolds, who has in the past spent time in Fishguard. I set a little trap for her, and caught her in the act of examining my book. I sent her packing straight away, but I could get little out of her since she has been well trained by her accomplices. She appeared to be more frightened of them than she was of me in a fury! God only knows what information she has passed on, and what damage is done.
My dear lady, I can only apologize with all my heart for this most lamentable development! I have looked back over my entries over the past year or more, and since most of the entries are about your movements and addresses, and not your personal details or family history, I hope that your secret is still safe. I cannot be certain. But I fear that wicked people who may seek to harm you -- and who certainly hate me -- may have been in possession of information as to all of your movements, and may therefore have been spying on you and delving into your affairs. I recall that last time we met -- in Carmarthen -- I gave you certain information and you warned me about spies, and I can only hope that you will have exercised due caution in all of your dealings since then.