Chapter 27 - One Last Spring

The journey took all day. Thomas and Gwen traveled by horse and cart to Llanfyllin. Once there, Thomas left the horse and cart at the stable near the railroad station, and they caught the train to Oswestry, changed trains there for Chester, and in Chester changed yet again for a train that would take them into Liverpool. Each train and each railway station got progressively bigger and more crowded, and Gwen was thankful to be with someone who knew how to navigate the throngs of people and the maze of station platforms.

It was the first time Gwen had ridden a train. Experiencing the power and speed of the steam engine firsthand was thrilling, and watching the beautiful scenery go by was mesmerizing, but by the time they neared Liverpool, her enthusiasm for travel was waning. The pastoral views had been replaced by industrial sprawl, and the novelty of the ride had been exchanged for bone-weary tiredness. She felt dirty, disheveled, and more than a little out of her element.

Within minutes of exiting the Liverpool Lime Street Railway Station, Thomas located his carriage waiting just outside the station entrance. It was black and shiny and was pulled by a handsome brown horse. After introducing Gwen to the driver, Thomas helped her inside, and as soon as their bags were loaded, they set off through the streets of Liverpool.

Even though daylight lingered long into the evening in August, it was late enough that the gas lamps had been lit, and their light reflected off the windows of the huge buildings lining the roads. Gwen had never seen such imposing structures. Everywhere she looked there were more buildings; no hedgerows, trees, or grass verges, only buildings.

At last the carriage pulled into a gravel driveway that curved around to the front of a large redbrick house. It stood three stories tall, with dormer windows breaking up the roofline. Half a dozen chimney pots lined the top of the house, with smoke coming from at least four of them. A few shrubs and trees grew on either side of the house, and a narrow path cut between the trees and a redbrick wall, presumably leading to the back garden.

“Here we are,” Thomas said as the carriage came to a stop in front of the house. He opened the carriage door and stepped out, then turned to help Gwen descend. “This is where I grew up and the place I still call home.”

Gwen stood on the driveway, staring up at the house, trying not to feel intimidated by its size and commanding presence. Other than Powys Castle, where the Earl of Powys lived, it was by far the largest house she’d ever seen.

“It’s very impressive,” she said.

Thomas smiled and picked up their bags. “Let’s go inside.”

The front door opened as they approached, and a dark-haired lady in a black dress stepped forward to greet them.

“Welcome home, Mr. Henley,” she said.

“Thank you, Margaret,” Thomas said. “This is our guest, Miss Gwen Humphreys.”

Margaret nodded. “Nice to meet you, Miss Humphreys,” she said.

The housekeeper stepped aside so Thomas and Gwen could precede her into the main hall. The polished wooden floor gleamed in the lamplight, and the walls were covered in paintings of horses and hunting scenes. Heavy brocade curtains hung at the windows on either side of the front door, and straight ahead a wide staircase led up to the next floor.

“Have my mother and sister already retired for the night?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, sir. They apologize for not being here to meet you, but your mother does not do well if she stays up too late. She asked that I see Miss Humphreys to her room.”

“That would be marvelous. Thank you, Margaret.”

The housekeeper nodded again. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink before you retire, miss?” she asked Gwen.

“No, thank you,” Gwen said. “I think I’d rather go straight to bed, if that’s all right.”

She saw the startled look in the housekeeper’s eyes before she realized what had caused it.

“Miss Humphreys is Welsh,” Thomas said. “She speaks fluent English, but you may detect her accent.”

Gwen swung around to face him. Her accent? It was the English whose accents were so hard on the ear. Did her speech sound as strange to the English as theirs did to her?

“Indeed, sir,” Margaret said, unknowingly answering Gwen’s question.

Thomas pointed to a room on the right. “That’s the breakfast room,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready in the morning, come downstairs, and I’ll meet you there.”

“All right.” Gwen was suddenly nervous. Thomas was back in his own sphere, and she was completely out of hers. “Thank you, Thomas.”

He smiled. “I hope you sleep well,” he said.

Margaret picked up Gwen’s bag. “If you’ll follow me, miss,” she said, heading toward the stairs.

Without a word, Gwen followed the housekeeper up the stairs and onto the landing to the left.

Margaret led her to the second door down the hall and pushed it open. “This will be your room,” she said, walking in and placing Gwen’s bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. “You should have everything you need, but if not, just pull the bell. The cord’s beside the bed.”

“Thank you, Margaret,” Gwen said.

“Good night, miss,” she said, and she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Slowly Gwen turned in a full circle. She’d never seen a bedroom like this before. The walls were painted the same pale blue as the fluffy quilt that lay across the bed. Ivory lace curtains hung at the windows, and matching fabric hung draped from the top of the four-poster bed. The bed itself was larger than any Gwen had slept in before and was positioned in the center of the room, with an elegant wardrobe, chest of drawers, ornate mirror, and armchair completing the room’s furnishings. A cheery fire burned in the fireplace, and two oversized rugs covered the wooden floor, adding to the bedroom’s coziness.

Not wanting to dirty either the elegant bed or the armchair, Gwen opened her bag, pulled out her nightgown, and hurriedly changed out of her dusty travel clothes. Using the washbowl on top of the chest of drawers, she washed her hands and face. The soap smelled of lavender and helped her feel clean again. After a short bedtime prayer, Gwen blew out the candle and crawled under the covers. For a moment, she stared up at the shadowy outline of the canopy above her head, then she rolled over and closed her eyes. Llanwddyn felt very far away.

The next morning, Gwen approached the breakfast room with considerable trepidation. She could hear female voices coming from the room as she descended the stairs and guessed that she was about to meet Thomas’s mother and sister. When she reached the doorway, she paused and quietly surveyed the scene inside. The two women sitting at the table were obviously related. Gwen guessed there was about thirty years difference in age between them, and even though one of them had graying hair and aging skin, their facial features were virtually identical. Neither of them looked very much like Thomas, but when she saw the younger one frown, she recognized the expression as one she’d seen on Thomas’s face only a few days before.

“There you are!”

Thomas’s voice made her jump. He’d been standing beside a small buffet table at the side of the room, and she hadn’t noticed him there. He walked over to her, took her elbow, and guided her into the room.

“Mother, Cecilia, this is Gwen Humphreys,” he said. “Gwen, this is my mother and my younger sister, Cecilia.”

Resisting the urge to smooth down her brown woolen skirt and white blouse or check to see if her unruly hair was already escaping the bun she’d attempted that morning, Gwen stood before them and gave a hesitant smile. “Pleased to meet you,” she said as both women turned to stare at her. “Thank you for allowing me to come and stay with you. Your home is beautiful.”

“I beg your pardon,” Mrs. Henley said.

“Your . . . your home is beautiful,” Gwen repeated, glancing at Thomas to make sure she hadn’t said anything wrong.

“Goodness gracious, Thomas. However do you understand her? I’ve never heard such an accent.”

“Very easily, Mother,” Thomas said, his grip on Gwen’s elbow tightening. “Gwen speaks excellent English; her Welsh accent simply adds melody to the words.”

“Well, it will certainly take getting used to,” the older woman said. She waved her hand toward the buffet table. “Make sure she has something to eat, Thomas.”

“She can understand you perfectly well if you address her directly, Mother.” Gwen had never heard irritation in Thomas’s voice before. He seemed to be almost as uncomfortable with this conversation as she was, and she was relieved when he turned away from his mother and led her across the room.

The buffet table was loaded with platters of eggs, bacon, fried tomatoes, mushrooms, and toast. With the way Gwen’s stomach was churning, she wasn’t sure she could have eaten half a bowl of oatmeal, and she was quite sure she couldn’t manage a full cooked breakfast. She put a piece of toast on her plate.

“Gwen,” Thomas muttered. “You have to eat more than that.”

“Not now, Thomas. Please,” she whispered back.

He gave her a searching look. “Do you remember me telling you that your aunt reminded me of my mother?” he asked quietly.

She nodded.

“Keep that in mind,” he said. “Don’t let her intimidate you.”

Gwen swallowed past the lump in her throat. Thomas’s advice was a lot easier said than done, especially if the criticism was to come every time she opened her mouth to speak. But she knew he was right. Raising her chin slightly, she walked over to the table, took a seat across from Cecilia, and waited for Thomas to join her before taking a bite of her toast.

“I sent word to Mr. Wainwright last night to tell him I was back in Liverpool,” Thomas said. “He responded this morning, asking that I meet him at two o’clock this afternoon.”

“Excellent,” Mrs. Henley said. “I’m glad you don’t have to rush over to his office first thing this morning.”

“Yes,” Thomas said. “It will give me time to show Gwen around first.”

Mrs. Henley frowned, but Cecilia perked up. “And you’ll be back in time to attend the theatre tonight.”

“The theatre?” Thomas asked.

Cecilia’s placid expression evaporated. “The Chapmans and the Cluffs will be there. We’ve had it planned for weeks.” She reached over the table and grasped her brother’s hand. “Please say you’ll come, Thomas. Everyone has missed you at our monthly gatherings.”

Thomas looked over at Gwen. “Would you like to go to the theatre tonight?” he asked.

“I’ve never been before,” Gwen said, not sure how she should feel about it.

“Oh, you’ll love it!” Cecelia’s hands were now clasped together, a rapturous expression on her face. “They’re performing a comic opera called The Mikado. Everyone’s talking about it.”

As far as Gwen knew, no one in Llanwddyn had ever heard of The Mikado, let alone spoken of it, but it was hard to disregard Cecilia’s enthusiasm for the outing. “Then perhaps we should go,” Gwen said.

Thomas smiled broadly as Cecilia clapped her hands. “Mother?” he asked. “Would you like to go?”

Mrs. Henley pondered the question for a few seconds. “No, thank you, Thomas,” she finally said. “I believe I will stay home this time.”

Gwen hid a small smile. Based on the little that Thomas had told her about his mother, she guessed this was a fairly regular exchange between them. She couldn’t deny feeling some relief that Mrs. Henley would not be at the theatre with them. The outing was going to be frightening enough without any added criticism directed her way. Trying to block out her insecurities, Gwen turned her attention to something more important. “Do you think we could go to the docks this morning?” she asked Thomas.

“The docks?” Mrs. Henley looked aghast. “Is that what you said? Why ever would you want to go there?”

Cecelia was also regarding her with a mystified expression.

“Gwen’s brother passed away a few months ago on a ship that sailed from Liverpool to India. She would like to see if his ship is in dock,” Thomas explained.

Mrs. Henley’s brow puckered. “But, Thomas,” she said, “the docks are—”

“The morning would be the best time to go,” Thomas interrupted her. “Don’t worry, Mother. I won’t take any unnecessary risks, and we will not stay long.”

As though wanting to ward off any further argument, Thomas turned to Gwen. “Can you be ready within the hour?”

“I’m ready now,” she said.

He chuckled. “Of course. Then I’ll have my driver meet us outside in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Thomas,” Gwen said.