What About Cecelia? Read online

  What About Cecelia?

  Amelia Grace Treader

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s deranged imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2014 by Amelia G. Treader

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

  Smashwords Version

  For my loving helpmate, and my adorable children. It is also dedicated to Walter Savage Landor and his wife Julia. I could not have invented better characters for this story. He really was an excellent poet.

  Proofed in American English

  Table of Contents

  1. The Captain and Miss Arnold Arrive

  2. A Disastrous Expedition.

  3. Cecelia's Recovery.

  4. Raglan Horse Fair.

  5. Riding Lessons.

  6. Race on Holy Mountain.

  7. Life in Penyclawdd.

  8. Settling Up.

  9. Welcome to Bath.

  10. Captain Wood gets a Reprieve.

  11. The Hunt Starts.

  12. The Quarry Goes to Ground.

  13. George the Detective.

  14. The Hunt is On Again.

  15. The Quarry is Sighted.

  16. On Rhossili Down.

  1. The Captain and Miss Arnold Arrive.

  Cecelia Wood was riding part way up Bal Mawr, with an eye to climbing to the top, when she saw a procession of carriages arrive at Penyclawdd house. Nestled at the foot of the Black Mountains, Penyclawdd was the ancient gray stone house where she lived her first 18 years. It was entailed on a distant cousin, Captain George Wood, who could now ask her leave at any moment. Tell her to leave the high, flat moorland, steep valleys, woods and streams that she had known and loved as long as she could remember.

  She turned her horse around and galloped back to greet the newcomers. Her groom took her horse and she ran to greet the new owner. To her surprise, it was just a pair carriages full of baggage, a valet, and a couple of lady's maids. The valet informed her, “Ma'am, the captain and Miss Arnold will be here shortly. They are driving his curricle, and may have stopped for refreshment on the way.”

  “Miss Arnold?”

  “His fiancée. May I ask, are you Miss Wood?”

  “Yes.” The man glanced at her, then turned away muttering something that sounded like it started with “Pity,” and ended with “first.”

  “What was that and who are you?”

  “Nothing, I'm Captain Wood's valet. You may address me as Meadows.”

  “Mr. Meadows, have you been shown where the captain is to sleep?”

  “I believe it is your father's bedroom, and Miss Arnold will be down the hall.”

  “Good.”

  “Miss Wood?”

  “Yes, Mr. Meadows.”

  “It's just Meadows, not Mr. Meadows. The carriage also contains a number of barrels of Madeira wine. Is there an easier way to cellar them than this front entrance?” She showed him to the kitchen entrance which was behind the building, then went inside to await Captain Wood and his bride to be.

  She grabbed a book of poetry penned by the passionate romantic poet Mr. Landor, her neighbor from up Cwm Bwlch at Llanthony. She'd promised him that she would read it and tell him what she thought. He was sure to ask her about it the next time they met. The tome was hard going, but it would help her pass the time while she was waiting for Captain Wood. It took longer than she expected for him to arrive, and the book was harder going than she thought. She drifted off to sleep. The noise of an argument in the hallway in the front hall pierced the air and woke her. It was loud enough to penetrate the quiet of the front parlor.

  “Did you have to stop at all those pubs? You're half-drunk!”

  “I always drive better when I'm a bit bosky.”

  “You were more than a bit bosky, and I detest an open carriage. If I'd known it would be for all day we'd have ridden in one of the closed carriages. I mean look at my dress, it's ruined with the wind and the dirt.”

  “I think you look beautiful like that Jane.”

  “Call me Miss Arnold, Captain Wood. I am seriously displeased with you. I'm sure that the sun and wind have ruined my complexion beyond repair. Simply ruined it.”

  Cecelia quickly and carefully smoothed out the creases in her muslins. Then she walked to the hall and quietly announced herself. The arguing stopped almost immediately and a smiling Miss Arnold asked her, “And who are you, my dear?”

  “I'm Miss Wood, Miss Cecelia Wood. Welcome to Penyclawdd house. I hope your trip wasn't too difficult.”

  Captain Wood started to say that it had been a pleasant trip. Miss Arnold stopped him, “That's another thing, Captain Wood, how do you expect me to live in a place where I can't even pronounce the names?”

  Cecelia pipped the argument at the post by pointing out, “It isn't that difficult, once you get the hang of it.'P','E','N' is just 'pen', 'Y' is 'a', 'CL' is 'cl', and 'AW' is 'ou' as in couth, which just leaves 'DD' which is 'th'. So it's just pronounced 'pen' 'a' 'clouth'.”

  “It's still an uncouth language, this Welsh.”

  “The name means start of the dike. We're at one end of Offa's dike, the border between England and Wales. The farm started as a Norman castle built to defend England from the Welsh.”

  “I still think it's a primitive barbaric place.”

  Captain Wood made southing noises, “Jane dear, you're tired, it has been a long day. Maybe you will feel better with some refreshment.” He waited, with bated breath to see how the light of his life would take to his idea.

  Miss Arnold sighed, “You are so right, Georgie. It has been a hard day traveling here from Gloucester and I can tell my temper is getting the better of me. Miss Wood, could you see if there is any refreshment available?”

  “I'll ask, but why don't you sit in the parlor? There's a book of poetry written by one of our neighbors, Mr. Walter Landor.”

  “People write poetry in these wilds?”

  “He does at least. Apparently he's a famous poet. He and his wife Julia have been restoring Llanthony prior. We could visit them, when you've settled in.”

  “So there is at least some culture in this forsaken wilderness.”

  Cecelia responded, “There are assemblies at Abergavenny. They have dances, concerts and readings.”

  “The big city of Abergavenny, you don't say. Does everyone wear the latest mode?”

  Cecelia ignored the snipe and continued, “The moors are so romantic, especially when it storms and the clouds sweep across them. It always reminds me of Miss Radcliffes' 'The Romance of the Forest'.”

  “I never read novels, they are so common.”

  “Then perhaps the works of Shelley or Byron? I find it the best place to read them. Alone, high up on the moor with the wind whistling around me, and the call of the skylarks filling the air.”

  A serious argument was beginning to brew between Miss Wood and Miss Arnold. Fortunately for the peace, Meadows came out from the servants' wing and announced that dinner was ready.

  Captain Wood, realizing that his escape had been exceedingly narrow, said, “Thank you Meadows, I know this is outside of your normal duties as a valet.”

  “Sir, it is sometimes, especially in these barbaric circumstances, necessary to adjust one's expectations to the exigencies of the situation.”

  “Yes, what you said. Miss Wood, could you do the honor of showing us to the dining room?”

  Miss Arnold broke in, “That is my role, and I have the precedence here.”

 
; “Miss Arnold, do you know the way?”

  “No.”

  “I'll show you the way, but you are free to precede me into the room if you wish.” Jane nodded, unaware of the hidden satire in Cecelia's response, but fully satisfied that her prerogatives and status were duly preserved. Captain Wood did not miss it, and looked at his cousin in a new light.

  Dinner went very well. At least the parts of dinner. Miss Arnold complained about the toughness of the lamb, the lack of variety of vegetables, and the general inelegance and simplicity of the table settings. Captain Wood drank so much wine that he fell asleep at table and started snoring midway through the main course. These activities ensured that a sparkling level of conversation and society filled the hall. As soon as dinner was over Cecelia made her apologies and retired for the night with a headache and a good book.

  Early in the morning Cecelia had the groom saddle her horse. In need of relief from her cousin and his fiancée, she set out in search of fresh air, long vistas, and romantic settings. She rode up Hatterrall hill, following Offa's Dike, the ancient border between Wales and England to the top. This ride had the great advantage that she couldn't even see Penyclawdd house and could blot its occupants from her mind. Soon, alone, high on the hill, with the wind whipping past her, the sheep calling in the distance, and the skylarks chirping she felt like a true romantic heroine. A woman out of Byron's poems or Mrs. Radcliffe's novels.

  Her solitude and the reverie that went with it were not to last. There was a woman up ahead, where the path from Llanthony priory rose to meet the dike path. She was sitting and crying. Cecelia rode closer and recognized her neighbor, Julia, Mrs. Landor. She rode up to her, leaned over and asked, “Mrs. Landor, what's wrong?”

  “Miss Wood, can I call you Cecelia?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Cecelia, it's my husband. He's so difficult at times. We've just had a fight and I'm upset. I don't know what I'll do if he won't forgive me.” She broke into tears.

  “Forgive you for what?”

  “Disagreeing with him. If only that solicitor, Mr. Gabell hadn't put him in a bad mood this morning.” Cecelia found herself thinking that there could be fates worse than death and being married to an unloving husband or wife could be one of them. She carefully dismounted and, while still holding the reins, went to sit with her neighbor.

  “Julia, I'm sure it will be fine. Didn't you argue last month and Mr. Landor stormed out of the house?”

  “Yes, but this is different. It was all so magical when we met in Bath. He saw me at the assembly, said I was the most beautiful woman there and proposed on the spot.”

  “That must have been wonderful.”

  “It was. But then we came here, the farmers all try to cheat us, and that solicitor. I think he's just using Walter as a source of funds.” She sobbed a bit more, “I, I wish we'd stayed in Bath.” Finally, she broke into untrammeled weeping.

  Cecelia looked away from her friend and scanned the horizon. With one horse, there wasn't any easy way to get her home. Looking at Julia's feet she realized that her friend fled in her slippers. “Julia?”

  “Yes?”

  “Get up on my mare.”

  “I can't ride.”

  “Awyr is a sweetheart, and I'll lead her for you. We'll walk back to Penyclawdd. You can send Mr. Landor a note from there. I'm sure when he's calmed down, he'll be sorry. He is always sorry afterwards, you know that.”

  “I suppose so. I'm not sure. I feel so odd.”

  “Are you,” she paused knowing she was asking a very personal question, “breeding?”

  “Might be. Would that make me feel this way?”

  “I wouldn't know myself, but remember Mrs. Llewellyn?”

  Julia laughed at the memory. The young farmer's wife was notorious for bursting into tears at church every Sunday until she delivered her child.

  “Come on, you can't stay out here in any case.”

  Julia stood and with a bit of difficulty swung up into the side-saddle. Cecelia started to lead her off, when they heard the noise of another horse, being ridden hard behind them.

  Julia cried, “It's him, it's Mr. Landor!”

  It was. He was looking for Julia, calling at the top of his lungs, “Julia! Where are you? Please forgive me!”

  Cecelia waved, and he rode to them. Julia looked away as he approached.

  “Miss Wood, what a pleasure to see you.”

  “It's not me you need to charm Mr. Landor.”

  He collected himself, and then began, “Julia, I'm sorry for what I said. You know how I get started ranting and say things I can't possibly mean. Could you forgive me?”

  The noise of the wind blowing over the heather on the high moor filled the silence between them until Julia let loose. She gave her husband every bit as good a tongue-lashing as he had given her earlier.

  “Forgive you, you, you insolent loud-mouthed irascible fool! Storming and shouting just because the porridge was a little too milky. Then getting upset that your fool of a solicitor sent you another padded bill.” She turned to Cecelia and told her, “If you would pass the reins to Mr. Landor, he can lead me back to Llanthony. I have a few more things to say to him, which might be embarrassing for you to hear.”

  Cecelia handed the leads to Mr. Landor. He gave her a sheepish grin, and quietly asked, “Would you mind walking home?”

  “Miss Wood, walk to Penyclawdd from here? Mr. Landor whatever are you thinking of? Nothing as usual. Miss Wood, please join us in Llanthony for some refreshments before you ride home.”

  “It would be my pleasure, as long as you will be done arguing by the time I arrive.”

  “We will be, I have only a few more things to tell my Lord and Master.”

  Mr. Landor winked at Cecelia, “Miss Wood, Julia and I are well-matched. We give each other as good as we get.”

  The Landors could be heard arguing over the heather and blueberries as they walked their horses back along the dike and then down the steep hill to Llanthony. Cecelia waited until she couldn't hear their raised voices and then started walking after them.

  The path from the top of Hatterrall hill to the ruins of Llanthony prior started off almost flat and then descended steeply to the valley floor belowi. The narrow bottom of Cecelia's riding habit, coupled with shoes that were not well-suited to walking, combined with the hot sun to make the steep descent tiresome. Less than halfway down, she sat for a rest and examined her feet. “I think I'm getting a blister.”

  Mr. Landor rode up on his hunter, leading her mare behind him. “Miss Wood, Julia suggested I come and find you. I hadn't realized how difficult it can be to walk in a riding habit.”

  “Suggested?”

  He grinned, “All right, Miss Wood, Julia gave me firm and binding instructions that I was to find you and bring you back on your horse. In fact she barred the door after I left, and will only open it if I return with you. Is that better?”

  “Now you are being silly.”

  “Yes I am. The truth is somewhere between those extremes, but it looks like you could use the ride.”

  Cecelia mounted her mare and in short order they descended from the heather through the bracken covered and then wooded hillside to the Landor's house.

  Julia received her with open arms, “I am so glad Walter found you.”

  “You didn't bar the door and kick him out, did you?”

  “No, but he wanted to start writing some verse or another and I told him it could wait.”

  “It couldn't, but I wrote it in my head while looking for Miss Wood. If you'll excuse me, I'll put it on paper.”

  “Men!” Julia watched her husband disappear down the hall to his study. “You must be famished.”

  “I could use some tea.”

  Julia bellowed at the top of her voice, “Martha, tea and some scones in the parlor.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Landor.” was returned with a similar shout.

  Seeing Cecelia start to chuckle, Julia said, “You'll have to pardo
n my shouts, Cecelia, but we haven't had time to run bell wires. It's the only way to get the servants to pay attention.”

  “If it works, it's fine with me.”

  “I'm going to go hoarse if we don't get it fixed. Would you come in here and sit?” She led the way to the parlor.

  The tea and scones were well appreciated. Mr. Landor finished with his inspiration and returned before the refreshments were consumed. He helped himself to the remains and asked, “Well, Miss Wood, how goes it with the new Lord of Penyclawdd?”

  “Captain Wood seems a nice enough man. If he weren't drunk. He's certainly handsome enough.”

  “Where was he wounded?”

  “Wounded?”

  “If he came back from Spain, he must have been wounded somewhere.”

  “He isn't wounded.”

  “Not that you can see.” Mr. Landor put on a grave face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was in Spain as a volunteer for a couple of years. Before I bought Llanthony. If he has seen anything like the scenes I saw and is back here without a visible wound, then he's wounded here.” Mr. Landor pointed at his heart.

  Cecelia looked at him in astonishment. “What do you mean?”

  Mr. Landor was suddenly very serious and dropped his normally jocular appearance. He paused and carefully stated, “Miss Wood, the war in Spain hasn't been as glorious as the press has it. Too many cruel and utterly awful things happen. Some men, and I'm afraid your cousin is one of them, see too much. They break.”

  “Poor man.”

  “Your concern reflects well on you Miss Wood.”

  “Is there anything I can do for him?”

  “No. Just give him time, and peace.”

  “Oh dear. His fiancée, Miss Arnold, is anything but peaceful.”

  “Does he drink?”

  “Heavily, is that bad?”

  “It's not good. He's trying to keep the terrors away by staying so drunk that he can't see them. It won't work.” With these glum words a silence fell over them.