Treasure of the Celtic Triangle by Michael Phillips Read Free Book Online Page B

to lift her head off the pillow for a better look. “Who’s that you brought with you, Steven?” she asked.
    “It’s Lady Florilyn from the manor, Lilybet—Lord and Lady Snowdon’s daughter.”
    A gasp of astonishment left the woman’s lips. “The saints preserve us!” she exclaimed. “My Lady Florilyn … I’m sorry for you to see us like this—but welcome to you. If only I could offer you something. You honor our poor cottage.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Cnychwr,” said Florilyn, stepping forward to the bedside. She reached out and laid a hand gently on the woman’s arm. “I am sorry you are ill. But Steven is right. We will send the doctor out immediately.”
    “You are very kind, my lady.”
    “My mother will see to it, and anything else you need.”
    Ten minutes later, Florilyn and Steven began the ride back around the mountain and down to the coast.
    “What would my father and Mr. Heygate do when someone could not pay the rent?” Florilyn asked.
    “I don’t know,” replied Steven. “I’m sure under the circumstances they would have been lenient, as they were with us when my father was ill.”
    “Did my father ever evict people for not paying?”
    “He did, yes—I knew of a few cases. But your father was an understanding man. In most cases, the people deserved to be evicted, and the town is better off without them.”
    “But you knew my mother would not be concerned that the Cnychwrs were unable to pay?”
    “Oh, yes … of course. I know your mother’s heart. Besides, there is money and to spare for their rent walking around on the backs of his flock of sheep.”
    “But if he cannot shear them …”
    Steven chuckled as if her worry was absurd. “His sheep will all be shorn within the week,” he said, “though not quite to the skin as winter is approaching.”
    “Who will shear them?”
    “Me, of course!” laughed Steven.
    They reached the manor, wet but laughing, for one brief dousing from above had nearly drenched them. They separated and went to their respective quarters for dry clothes. Then Steven sought Katherine to apprise her of the situation at the Cnychwr croft.

T EN
    A Tempting Offer
    T he letter that arrived at Westbrooke Manor for Courtenay bore no return address or indication who the sender might be. It therefore aroused no curiosity in Lady Katherine’s mind as her eyes fell upon it along with the rest of the morning’s mail.
    Courtenay, however, immediately noticed the London postmark and slit open the envelope with a certain mild interest. Intrigued he withdrew the single sheet.
    Mr. Westbrooke
, he read,
    My deepest condolences at the death of your father. He and I were colleagues in the House of Lords. However, I only recently learned of his passing. I look forward to meeting you as my colleague as well when you become eligible to sit with the Lords, which I understand will be in approximately a year and a half
.
    Your father and I were involved in discussions involving a business transaction, which I had every reason to believe would have been mutually beneficial to us both, and especially lucrative for your father. Unfortunately the thing did not reach fruition. Our correspondence lagged as other priorities consumed our attentions. Now sadly, just as I was about to contact him again, your father’s untimely death came before we could resume our plans
.
    I am writing now in hopes that perhaps you might be able to carry forward what your father and I were not able to complete
.
    My discussions with your father were quite simple: It has been my hope to purchase a small portion of acreage from your father’s estate—your estate now—far on the eastern boundary of the Westbrooke property. The reason is purely a sentimental one. I spent some of the happiest years of my life as a boy romping the walking trails and footpaths of those hills. It has been my desire at the later stages of my life to build a small cottage on a site I was especially fond of that is situated