From Across the Ancient Waters

by Michael Phillips

  Up here, however, this overlook was his private special place. Not even Gwyneth knew of that day he had watched her until the holiness of the moment had overwhelmed him.

  This was another day like that one. Though Gwyneth would never know of it, his heart must again somehow connect with hers. He would give anything to know what she was thinking at this moment. The questions filling his mind were not merely about why she had left. She could not remain in Llanfryniog without her father and Grannie. Wherever they went, she would always go. They were her chief responsibility. He would never question that.

  But why had there been no word to anyone? Not to Florilyn … no message left for him. Her leaving also left unanswered the nagging question why she had not met him on the promontory two years earlier. The unexpected turmoil of recent days left too much unanswered.

  Why should he not be happy for Gwyneth? Whatever had taken place, wherever they had gone, Codnor Barrie would do nothing that was not for her best. He knew the man well enough to know that. According to Tilman Heygate, Gwyneth’s future was the primary reason for the move. Perhaps they had inherited money from a distant relative.

  Then why the mystery? Or had Codnor been offered a lucrative job elsewhere that would enable him to pay for further education for Gwyneth? Was it even possible that she had been betrothed to a man of means somewhere? Could that be the opportunity Barrie spoke of?

  Whatever it was, how could he be sad for himself? Gwyneth was being given opportunities that Barrie could not have reason to expect from any other quarter. It was time for him to be glad for them, to rejoice for whatever future Gwyneth’s father was now in a position to give her.

  What, then, did this sudden change mean for him? Where did it leave his personal reasons for coming to Wales this summer? Had he become too anxious for God to reveal His will?

  If Gwyneth was truly gone … forever … if he had no way to find her and would never see her again … what would she want him to do now? He could almost hear her voice as he recalled his previous visit: “Miss Florilyn is expecting you to be her escort. “

  At last the question that had been stirring and bubbling in the emotional confusion of his subconscious for days rose to the surface. The words were simple. But the implication was enormous: Would she want him to give his love to another? To one whom she herself loved as selflessly as he knew Gwyneth loved Florilyn?

  Percy smiled. He knew the answer well enough. Gwyneth was so selfless, she would never think of herself. She would only think of him and those she loved. He knew beyond a doubt that he would have her blessing.

  Could that perhaps be the reason she had not come to meet him at the promontory? Had she been trying to tell him two years ago that she knew Florilyn loved him and that ultimately he would have to choose between them? Had she been trying to make that choice easier for him even then?

  And yet … he still had Florilyn’s best to think of. Was it right … for her?

  Percy had left Glasgow for Wales a week ago knowing that love beat in his heart. But was love the same as affection? And where did friendship between two young people fit into the kind of love that would last a lifetime? He had come here to find out the answers to such questions. But then immediately upon his arrival, so suddenly, circumstances had changed.

  Pausing in his thoughts, Percy reflected on that word—circumstances. Was this an example of what his father so often said, that the Lord used circumstances to confirm His leading … occasionally even to change the direction of his leading?

  “What are You trying to say to me, Lord?” Percy whispered aloud. “Are these Your circumstances speaking to me?”

  Even his own soft voice seemed an intrusion upon the solemnity of the place where he sat.

  Percy’s thoughts filled with Florilyn. He knew that she loved him. Whether she was actually expecting a proposal he had no way of knowing. But if what Chandos said was universally known, she must have been waiting for one.

  Could he love her as she deserved to be loved? Could he give her of his very best without a divided heart?

  Then came a startling question: Were he and Florilyn being drawn together all along?

  The question sent him into a new round of reflection. He had once told her he was proud of her. But it went far deeper than that. She had become a young woman of character. She had been a bratty girl during his first visit. She and Courtenay had been birds of a feather. But then who was he to be talking? He had been a bratty kid, too. He chuckled to himself at the thought.

  It took a special kind of person, and genuine depth of character, to change … really change. Florilyn had done so. He admired her for it. He did not love her for that reason alone, but that depth of character certainly deepened his regard for her.

  He had changed. Florilyn had changed. Perhaps they were now birds of a feather … a young man and young woman who had been on the same spiritual journey all along. Was it perhaps even a journey, because she had always been good, in some strange way, that it was impossible for Gwyneth fully to share?

  Had he and Florilyn been meant for one another from the beginning? If God was indeed leading them together, could he trust Him, even trust Him for himself, that he could be the best for Florilyn? To accept God’s leading also implied trusting Him enough to follow that leading.

  Over the next few days, Percy continued to walk and ride alone. He visited many of his old haunts. He walked the hills praying and contemplating the future.

  Over the coming days the sense—was it the divine nudging?—slowly grew on him that the answer to the big question was yes. He had come seeking resolution. Even more … a life companion. It seemed that God had now given him the answer he had been praying for.

  After another week, he knew it was time to talk to Florilyn. This time about their future together.

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  Florilyn

  By the sound of the knock, Florilyn knew who it was. She went to the door. There stood Percy. His look was unlike any expression she had seen on his countenance. He looked embarrassed, almost bashful.

  “I need to talk to you, Florilyn,” he said, glancing down at the floor. “I would like to talk to you, I should say … if you have time … or should I come back—”

  “Goodness, no. Of course I have time, Percy.”

  He waited in the corridor.

  She dashed into the room a moment then joined him and closed the door behind her.

  They walked downstairs and left the house. It was silent for some time.

  Percy led the way toward the garden. He was uncharacteristically agitated.

  Florilyn waited.

  “You have really changed, Florilyn,” he said. “You are a different person than when I first came.”

  “You know why, don’t you, Percy?” she asked softly.

  “I suppose you grew up and began to see things differently. We all did. Remember what a jerk I was that first summer?”

  “You were never a jerk, Percy.”

  “I made a pretty good impression of one! Maybe I should just say that I had a lot of growing up to do. So I changed, too. But so did you, and I am impressed and proud of you.”

  “You said that to me once before,” rejoined Florilyn. “I wasn’t quite sure what to think. I do now … at least I think so. It makes me happy to know you feel that way about me.” Florilyn paused. “There’s more to the changes in me than just being twenty now,” she went on after a moment. “It’s because of you, Percy. You helped me see things. You helped me grow up. You helped me see myself and helped me grow into someone better. Everything you told me about your father … that’s how you have been to me. I learned to trust you in the same way that you trust your father.”

  “That is high praise,” said Percy. His voice was soft and thoughtful. “That is a remarkable thing for one person to say to another.”

  “I mean every word.”

  “I know you do. That’s what makes it remarkable. Thank you.”

  They walked on, descending
more deeply into the depths of the garden. As they spoke softly together, Percy shared what was on his heart and the decision he had come to, which was to ask her to be his wife.

  Florilyn’s heart swelled. Slowly her eyes began to fill. “Do you really mean it, Percy?” she said.

  He looked at her and smiled. “Of course I mean it.”

  “Oh, Percy,” she said softly, her voice full of the tears that were flowing from her eyes, “you have made me the happiest girl in the world.” She slipped her hand through his arm, and they continued to walk slowly through the garden.

  “There is a question I have to ask, Percy,” said Florilyn as they returned in the direction of the house some time later.

  He waited.

  “What about Gwyneth?”

  Percy drew in a long sigh. “Nothing gets past you,” he said with a smile.

  “I know you loved her. At first I didn’t realize it. But I grew to know it as I grew to love her, too.”

  “It’s no secret,” said Percy. “I loved you both. I love you for how you changed and for who you have become. I loved her with a sort of deep gratitude for helping me learn to see God. But I believe the circumstances as they developed were God’s way of leading you and me together.”

  “Like what you told me your father talks about.”

  Percy nodded. Slowly a smile spread over his face. “Have I ever told you how I once wondered if Gwyneth was an angel?” he asked.

  “No!” said Florilyn. “An angel?”

  “I really did, at first. She was so different, so otherworldly. She would appear when you least expected it. And she helped me to change—like you said that I helped you.”

  Florilyn listened as Percy went on.

  “Now I am wondering,” he said. “I know it sounds crazy, but with her disappearing like this, maybe she really was an angel, sent in some strange way to lead us together. Then when her job was over, she left us.”

  “You don’t really think so?”

  “I don’t know.” Percy chuckled. “But it’s a nice thought.”

  “She helped teach us both about God.” Florilyn nodded. “That’s what angels do, isn’t it?”

  “And about each other as well,” agreed Percy. “I wonder if we would have come together without her. She will always be part of us.”

  “My only regret is that she cannot be at our wedding. I wish she could stand beside me. I will never forget her.”

  Later that afternoon, a knock came on the viscount’s door.

  “Might I talk to you, Uncle Roderick?” said Percy when his uncle opened the door. “There is a personal matter I would like to discuss and an important question I need to ask you.”

  “Certainly, Percy, my boy! Come in and sit down. Was that you and Florilyn I saw in the garden earlier?”

  “Yes, sir. Actually that is what I would like to talk to you about.” He closed the door behind him and took a seat with his uncle.

  They remained in close conference for thirty minutes.

  Feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, on the following morning Percy rode into Llanfryniog. He was in high spirits. At last he was ready to walk the streets and lanes and visit in the shops and walk to the harbor and beach. He was astonished to find people looking at him differently.

  He was puzzled by the smiles until one woman stopped as he approached and extended her hand. “I hear congratulations are in order, Mr. Percy,” she said. “May I offer my hand and wish you and Miss Florilyn all the best.”

  Percy shook her hand. “Does word really spread so fast?” He laughed. “All this only happened yesterday.”

  “The whole village knows, Mr. Percy,” said the woman. “It doesn’t take long for this kind of news to pass along. Good day to you, sir.”

  Percy watched her amble off, still amazed by the exchange. He didn’t even know the woman’s name, but she seemed to know everything about him.

  SEVENTY-SIX

  Joy Comes to the Manor

  Though some might have attributed his ebullient spirits to the relief of a father having a daughter off his hands, the viscount’s joy went far deeper. He knew that Florilyn was engaged to a worthy young man whom he already loved as a son. His was a double portion of happiness.

  Katherine’s spirits and those of the entire staff of Westbrooke Manor were equally celebratory.

  Stevie Muir had not been to work for two days. When he next appeared, therefore, he had heard nothing. Word of the engagement was the first news out of Hollin Radnor’s mouth. Immediately Stevie went in search of Percy.

  He encountered Florilyn on his way toward the house. “Miss Florilyn,” he said excitedly, “I just heard the news about you and Percy. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you, Stevie. I am very happy.”

  “You deserve it, Miss Florilyn.”

  She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t … How do you mean?” she said.

  “Just that you are a young lady of quality and character,” replied Stevie.

  “What a nice thing to say!”

  “I have been watching you for years. I have come to have great admiration for you. Not many girls in your position—from wealth and privilege, you know—not many grow to be the kind of young lady you have become. I know your parents are proud of you. You deserve a fine man like Percy. And he is lucky to have someone like you.”

  “Thank you, Stevie. No one has ever said something like that to me before except Percy.”

  “I mean it. I am happy for you both.” Stevie continued in search of Percy.

  Florilyn stared after him a moment with an odd expression. She had never paid much attention to Stevie Muir before. There was obviously more to him than met the eye.

  “Percy, my boy,” said the viscount as he and Percy walked down the main staircase together, “and at last I can legitimately call you that, eh!—how about father and prospective bridegroom going for a ride together? We need to talk about your future, yours and mine and my daughter’s.”

  “I would like that, Uncle Roderick.”

  “That brings up another point of protocol to be decided. What will you call me after you are my son-in-law? Bit of a perplexity, what?”

  “I’m sure we will be able to come to an amenable solution, Uncle Roderick!” laughed Percy.

  They met Stevie in the entryway.

  “Hello, Lord Snowdon,” he said. “Percy, I was on my way to find you and offer my congratulations. I only heard this morning.”

  “Thank you, Stevie,” smiled Percy as the two friends shook hands.

  The three continued outside toward the stables.

  “Stevie, my good man, Percy and I fancy a ride today. Saddle me the black demon. What is your fancy, Percy, my boy?”

  “Red Rhud, I think,” replied Percy. “But are you sure the stallion is wise, Uncle Roderick? Florilyn tells me he’s dangerous.”

  “Bah! Women’s talk. I can master any horse. I am in such high spirits I am ready to take on the world. You have made me a happy man, Percy, my boy.”

  Percy glanced toward Stevie with concern. Stevie’s face registered the same anxiety. He was well acquainted with the dangerous temperament of the stallion.

  But the viscount was insistent. Stevie therefore set about saddling him, while keeping a wary eye on the beast’s eyes and ears.

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  The River between the Ridges

  Percy and Lord Snowdon left the grounds eastward. Without intending it but with little choice, Percy’s uncle led out at a reckless pace. The stallion had not been aired for days and was fierce with energy. It was all Percy could do to keep up.

  This was his first ride this summer on Red Rhud’s back. As he had noticed with Grey Tide, she had lost a step from previous visits. He was not able to draw alongside his uncle until they were a mile from the manor and the stallion’s initial burst of fiery energy was somewhat dissipated.

  “That is some spunky animal!” shouted Percy as he tried to catch
up.

  “A noble beast,” rejoined his uncle over his shoulder. “As soon as I have the chance, I hope to race him in Manchester.”

  “Who will ride him?”

  “I’ll get someone. Maybe Courtenay. He can handle him.”

  “Are you sure racing a horse like that is a good idea?”

  “Have you been talking to my wife and daughter?” laughed West-brooke. “Horse racing is a man’s business, Percy, my boy. You can’t make money without risk. Perhaps we shall be partners.”

  As Percy at last drew even, the stallion Demon suddenly lurched sideways and snapped with great sharp teeth at Red Rhud’s neck. Percy swerved to the right with a startled cry, nearly toppling out of the saddle.

  “Now I am sure that racing that animal is not a good idea.”

  “Nonsense, Percy, my boy!” rejoined the viscount. “Spirit, that’s what’s wanted in a champion thoroughbred. This Demon has it, and to spare. He is full of energy, that’s all. He needs to be given the rein, the freedom to run. Let him go at top speed, and he is as easy to handle as any of my wife’s mares.”

  With the words he dug in his heels and did just as he said, and again gave Demon the rein. Horse and rider shot off with a speed marvelous to behold had Percy not been terrified for his uncle’s life.

  Again he urged Red Rhud on as fast as he dared. But it was not enough to keep pace with his uncle. In spite of the lessons Gwyneth had given him, he was still not completely confident as a horseman. Within moments his uncle was out of sight.

  Percy continued up the incline. As he crested the ridge, he gazed frantically for any sign of him. Halfway down the opposite slope far ahead, the black maniacal creature was tearing up great clods. His uncle appeared out of control, jostling about in the saddle.

  In the distance, the stallion suddenly stopped abruptly and reared. As far away as he was, Percy heard great whinnying cries. They were not horse sounds of fright but of wrath. Percy galloped on.