A New Dawn Over Devon (49 page)

 86 
Excitement in Milverscombe

Three weeks after his visit to the bank, a brief letter was waiting for him when Stirling came home midway through the afternoon.

“Mr. Rutherford brought this by for you this morning,” said his mother, handing him the envelope.

Stirling,

I haven't seen you around town for several days. Would you be able to come by the bank at your earliest convenience? I would like to talk to you again about your proposal.

G. Rutherford

Stirling was out the door the next instant and on his way toward the center of the village. Some distance from the bank he saw Stoddard Roper walking toward him on his way home.

“Stoddard,” said Stirling, “—from that smile on your face, I would say you have had some good news.”

“I just found out the loan for my new barn and several new cows went through,” replied Roper as he and Stirling shook hands. “I will have three hundred pounds in my hands by next week.”

“I am delighted to hear it. How is that little girl of yours doing?”

“Well . . . very well, thanks to you. My wife and I will never forget what you did.”

“It may be that I shall be indebted to you, Stoddard,” rejoined Stirling. “I hope to return to university one day to study toward my physician's license.”

“Good for you, Stirling. When will this happen?”

“I don't know. I'm on my way to the bank now. I am hoping the bank will be able to help me finance it.”

“And why not? Besides me, did you hear that Hiram Spenser is going to build a new store to sell farm equipment?”

“No, I hadn't heard,” replied Stirling. “Is he being financed by the bank too?”

Roper nodded. “That Rutherford's about the best thing to happen to this town in a long time.”

“Maybe this will be my lucky day too!”

“I hope so. Good luck to you, Stirling, and thanks again.”

Stirling continued on to the bank, not pausing to realize until he was walking through the door that on this occasion he had not so much as combed his hair and was still wearing his work clothes. Geoffrey, however, did not seem to notice.

“Stirling,” he said as they shook hands, “I have some good news for you—your loan application has been approved.”

“To go back to university!”

“That's right,” said Geoffrey with a smile. “Come and sit down so that we can talk about it.”

“But what about the collateral?” said Stirling. “This is wonderful news . . . but I thought you said—”

“They waived the requirement,” said Geoffrey. “I told them that the risk would be minimal and that I would personally vouch for you. It will be called an unsecured loan.”

“Thank you, Geoffrey. I don't know what to say.”

“I suggest you begin looking into the various medical colleges and making your application,” Geoffrey went on. “Perhaps you will be able to enroll next year. Meanwhile, I will have the paper work ready at whatever time you feel you need to begin receiving the funds.”

“I can't believe it,” said Stirling enthusiastically. “Just wait until I tell Amanda—thanks, Geoffrey!”

“I do have one favor to ask of you,” said Geoffrey, his voice taking on an almost apologetic tone.

“Anything—just name it.”

“I wondered if you wouldn't mind coming by the Hall one of these days. I think a leak has developed from this recent rain, but I can't find it anywhere.”

“That often happens with the first rains of the season,” nodded Stirling. “Wood and roofs and plaster and joints shrink from the summer heat and tiny cracks develop. And if there's one thing about rain, it will find the cracks as soon as autumn comes and it cools down again. I'd be glad to have a look.”

“Good, thank you—perhaps at the next rain.”

Stirling rose and, in a stupor at this sudden change in his fortunes, stumbled out of the bank. He turned immediately for Heathersleigh Cottage. He had to tell Amanda!

He half ran, half walked, half limped all the way, such that he was perspiring and breathing heavily by the time he stuck his head into the open door of the cottage.

“Amanda . . . Lady Jocelyn . . . Miss Catharine—is anyone home around here!”

“In here, Stirling . . . come in!” Jocelyn's voice called out from inside. Stirling hurried inside.

“I've got great news!” he said. “Where's Amanda?”

“She's at the Hall looking for a few more books she wanted to bring over. What's got you so excited?”

“Just this—my application has been approved for a loan to return to university to study medicine!”

“Stirling, that's wonderful news. I just heard yesterday that Andrew and Sally Osborne are getting a loan to enlarge their cottage as well. Those twins of theirs are growing into strapping boys.”

But Stirling hardly heard her. He had already turned and was heading out the door on his way through the woods to Heathersleigh Hall.

————

Within weeks everyone who had needed money for any project or family need, large or small, had received similar good news. It was almost as if manna were being sprinkled down from heaven in the form of one-, five-, and ten-pound notes!

Farmers were anticipating more extensive crops for the following spring. Gresham Mudgley himself was too old to tend his sheep, but
his son had added several new Wensleydales and Oxfords to their flock. Other farmers from the community were purchasing cattle, bulls, and equipment, and planning improvements to barns and houses. Vicar Stuart Coleridge had even spoken to Geoffrey about some badly needed repairs to the church building that lay outside the budget of the diocese.

But not all the changes in and around Milverscombe were as a result of loans at the new bank. Improvements of various other kinds began to come to the neighborhood. One of the first such resulted when word began to go through the community—no one knew how it started, but within weeks no one was talking about anything else—that funds were being made available for certain home improvements. These were not loans which must be repaid, but grants of some kind, money simply being provided for the betterment and modernization of the community. Because finances were involved, the whole thing was being handled by the bank, though it was not directly involved. Clearly, everyone said, no institution like the Bank of London would just
give
money away.

Whoever was responsible had indicated, through solicitors, so as to keep their identity secret—so Geoffrey told those who came to inquire—that funds were to be distributed by application to local residents for the purpose of wiring their homes for either electricity or telephones, for the installation of plumbing to provide indoor water, or toward the purchase of an automobile. The money was available now, he said, up to £125 per household. It was more money than half of them made in three months.

It was all very mysterious, though no one was inclined to complain. Within two weeks, Rune and Stirling Blakeley, well trained by Charles Rutherford, were busier with more wiring orders than they could finish in a year.

Because of the likely increase in demand, Geoffrey spoke with Hiram Spenser about adding an automobile or two to his inventory when his new building was completed. If Hiram was interested, said Geoffrey, he would see to it that his loan was increased by a sufficient amount to cover it.

It was obvious that some wealthy benefactor had taken an interest in Milverscombe. The reason would apparently remain a mystery. Rumors were rampant, though no one was successful at getting to the bottom of them.

Most suspected Amanda and Jocelyn of having a hand in the affair. Had not Sir Charles and Lady Jocelyn been the leading citizens and well known to be just the kind of man and woman who would carry out such a plan? Some maintained that no doubt Sir Charles's will had just been finalized and must have carried such a provision for the benefit of the community he loved. It was just what he would have done.

Jocelyn, however, steadfastly denied it. And as certain as they were that Sir Charles might well give away half his estate, those who knew them were equally certain that Lady Jocelyn would never utter so much as a word that wasn't true. In the end they had no alternative but to believe her innocent of any knowledge of the source of the strange goings-on.

Other rumors, therefore, began to circulate in time that Geoffrey and the bank
had
to be involved. The new bank's manager, however, displayed no more knowledge of the peculiar affair than anyone, and confessed himself merely a go-between acting on behalf of the ultimate source of provision and the good people of Devon.

Stirling Blakeley's application to medical school at Oxford was accepted. He made plans to leave the following fall.

 87 
Changes

At long last the countries of Europe breathed a collective, though weary and painful, sigh of relief when the war known as the Great War, and the War to End All Wars, concluded in November of 1918. The cost in human life had been terrible, and scarcely a family in Europe had not been affected. But it was now time for the world to put the conflict in the past and move forward into the modern era.

For several weeks after Geoffrey's request to Stirling, no rain fell in Devon. But in early December a drenching storm swept over southwest England, turning rivers and streams to swollen floods of brown. The downpour began late one Friday evening. By Sunday half the roofs in Milverscombe were leaking, including that of Heathersleigh Hall.

As soon as church was over, Geoffrey sought Stirling Blakeley where he was talking with Amanda, Catharine, and Terrill Langham, on leave for a weekend visit.

“Would it be convenient for you to come out to the Hall this afternoon?” asked Geoffrey. “—As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, why don't you and your father and mother come for tea?”

“It sounds good to me,” replied Stirling.

“Good,” said Geoffrey, glancing about through the dispersing congregation, crowded into the church building on account of the storm. “—I'll go talk to them and invite them myself. About three?”

Stirling nodded.

“Better yet,” added Geoffrey, “it's so wet, I'll come for you all in the car. Perhaps I'll ask your father if he would like to drive us back to the Hall!”

Stirling laughed. “Then maybe I shall get out my umbrella and walk!”

The four enjoyed a delightful tea together later that day. But despite all the efforts of the three men searching high and low, they were not able to find the source of Geoffrey's leak. They could hear the faint dripping that had plagued him—loudest near the guest room next to the east gallery on the second floor of the north wing—but nowhere could they find evidence of wetness. Rune's conclusion was that the sound must be echoing from somewhere outside on the roof, a common occurrence, and that no actual leak into the house existed. In the absence of a damp ceiling anywhere, it seemed the most logical explanation.

————

The storm passed, and winter finally settled in earnest over the land, slowing down the various projects about the community, though Rune and Stirling continued to wire homes as weather permitted.

The winter proved to be a relatively mild one, though rainy. Geoffrey suffered again through the cold, wet months. When not employed elsewhere, Geoffrey kept Stirling busy at the Hall with one thing and another, always paying him at least double what Stirling considered appropriate.

“You've got your medical school to think of, Stirling,” said Geoffrey. “Your time is valuable to me, and I insist on your receiving a fair wage for your efforts.”

Whenever Stirling was at work at the Hall, Geoffrey was right beside him. Though his experience in practical skills had been minimal, he was an eager learner, and through the companionship of such shared labors, their friendship steadily deepened.

Amanda often joined them, adding to the friendship a threefold cord of pleasure and spontaneity that only a woman could bring. Sometimes the three laughed and talked together more like three children than three adults in their late twenties. Never had Amanda imagined that Geoffrey could be so much fun. Never had Geoffrey imagined that he could enjoy his cousin so dearly. Never had Stirling
imagined that his two closest friends would one day be the aristocratic daughter of an M.P., and a wealthy London financier.

They all had suffered severe handicaps early in life, which perhaps contributed all the more to their closeness during this happy season of second childhood they were enjoying together. But Stirling's leg and upbringing, though visible and physical, had in truth not been handicaps at all but had worked to the strengthening of his character. Geoffrey's training in seeking financial gain, and Amanda's hatred of authority, on the other hand, had been significant detriments to their development. They were both on the road toward selflessness and virtue now, and glad of it. Yet because he had been seeking such qualities longer, they recognized Stirling, though his roots were humbler, as the acknowledged spiritual leader of the trio.

In time, Amanda showed her two friends every secret passageway of the Hall, retracing the discoveries George and Betsy had both made, and laughing with Geoffrey as together they told Stirling of their childhood dispute in the tower. Together they took out the tower key ring, made their way through the panel in the wall to the library. There Amanda again told them of the mysterious cabinet where the family Bible had been hidden for so many years, demonstrated the mechanism and key by which it had been discovered, and showed Stirling the passages that had led her to the knowledge that the Hall should rightfully have belonged to Geoffrey all along. For the first time, even Geoffrey finally understood everything, and at last were the mystery of all the keys and doors and passageways laid to rest. But Amanda still confessed herself puzzled, she said, by the odd construction in the garret. Why did old Lord Henry enlist Webley Kyrkwode to build the secret garret room George had discovered years earlier, a room only accessible through a maze of hidden passages?

They gathered one stormy evening in the mysterious chamber, wind blowing a gale outside, laughing and excited like three children, then sat down together, turned out the light, and told one another ghost stories to see who could most successfully frighten the others.

“What's that noise?” asked Geoffrey as a silence fell at the conclusion of Stirling's tale.

“I think it's a loose tile,” answered Amanda, glad for the diversion. She was still trembling a little from the creepy images of the story she had just heard. “Betsy discovered it, but we could never figure out exactly where it was.”

“That could be the source of the leak,” said Stirling, standing up and trying to listen. “I'll have to take a look at it. If a tile comes off, then you will really have a problem. Can you turn on the light?”

Amanda was only too glad to do so.

They all listened for a few seconds.

Stirling placed his ear against the wall. “Yes,” he said, “I can hear something.”

“We'll investigate it later,” said Geoffrey as he coughed a time or two. “And you're right,” now pressing his ear to the wall, “there's that dripping sound again—it's even louder here than next to the gallery.”

“Geoffrey,” said Stirling, “you ought to do something about that cough. I don't like the sound of it.”

“It's nothing. I have to put up with it every winter. I think I'm allergic to rain and cold.”

“But this little room is completely dry,” said Amanda, still thinking of the dripping sound. “If the room were leaking, we would see some evidence of it.”

“It must be coming from the other side,” said Stirling. “Let's go have a look.”

They returned through the labyrinth to the main part of the house, walked to the northeast corner, up the tower stairs, and finally into the eastern portion of the garret that had been walled off from the rest by Kyrkwode's mysterious construction. But upon reaching the opposite side of the wall they had left a few minutes earlier, they found wall, floor, and the underside of the roof above them all perfectly dry.

The next day the sun returned and their explorations continued. Now that he finally had straight all the ins and outs of the place that had become his, Geoffrey said he was anxious to see the twin cabinet fashioned by Maggie's great-grandfather. A romp across the field and through the woods to the cottage followed.

From her kitchen window, Jocelyn saw the three running toward her, happy and talking freely. Her heart warmed to see the two cousins and their friend acting like children again. Neither Geoffrey nor Amanda had had the chance to be exuberant and spontaneous when they were young. Now they were enjoying all the more the opportunity they had let pass the first time.

————

With the coming of the new year of 1919, life at Heathersleigh Cottage centered for several months around plans for Catharine's upcoming wedding, which was sure to be the most celebrated event in Milverscombe since the memorial service for Charles and George. There were dresses to make, food to plan, and invitations to send out. Catharine's wedding dress was being made in London, but Jocelyn was making her own and Amanda's. Catharine had chosen the pale greet fabric from a catalog at Harrods.

Jocelyn, Amanda, and Catharine all traveled to Lincoln to meet Terrill's family. The retired admiral—who had served with Charles in his early naval days—and his wife could not have been more pleased with developments. They returned the gesture several weeks later by traveling down to Devon, where Geoffrey put them up at the Hall. Catharine's cousin insisted on helping as much with the wedding plans as they would allow, and would house all the guests from Lincoln and London at the bride's former home. Sarah and Wenda were already at work getting rooms ready that had not seen inhabitants since Charles had entertained his parliamentary colleagues.

Catharine and Terrill Langham were married in the first week of April 1919 in the Milverscombe church, with Timothy Diggorsfeld officiating.

When the bride and groom departed for their honeymoon in Scotland, all Devon seemed to grow quiet without Catharine's boisterous, cheery laughter and smiling optimism. Heathersleigh Cottage felt especially dreary and deserted.

Amanda was sober for several days. Jocelyn could see that a melancholy was stealing over her. How difficult it must be, she thought, to watch her sister happily married with the support and blessings of an entire community, and then to remember what she had done.

Jocelyn came upon Amanda three mornings after the wedding, alone in the family lounge quietly crying.

“Oh, Mother,” she said in a forlorn voice as she glanced up through red eyes, “it was so beautiful and happy—I threw so much away!”

“God will restore the years the locusts have eaten, Amanda dear,” said Jocelyn as she sat down beside her. “I do not know how, but with the Lord nothing is lost forever.”

Amanda did not reply but quietly continued to weep.

She did not know how either. The promise seemed impossible to grasp.
So
much had been lost. She had thrown away not only precious years, but even her memories of childhood, which should have been happy ones. How could any of it be restored?

But gradually the tears dried as they had in the past, and life settled once more into a routine.

Now there were only two of them left. Bobby was gone. Charles was gone. George was gone. Maggie was gone. And now Catharine was gone.

In October Stirling Blakeley left on the train for Oxford. Now Milverscombe seemed all the more deserted. Half the village was at the station to see him off. Amanda stood between her mother and Geoffrey, waving as the train gradually rumbled and clattered out of sight. As she turned away a few moments later, she was surprised to feel tears in her eyes.