POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (Part Two)

                                    CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (Part Two)

Cedric Trevellian glanced over his shoulder as he rode down the driveway towards his waiting companions. Rosalind was standing at the doorway, watching him.

     He felt a great surge of joy. Rosalind loved him. In that brief moment when he had held her in his arms he knew it. He had never believed it possible that he would find the true love he longed for in his lifetime. He had never found it with Cynthia.

     At the thought of his wife, he was suddenly ashamed that he had spoken of love to another woman while his wife lay cold and alone somewhere, awaiting her burial.

     But he was alive and in love, he told himself. Surely his love and desire for Rosalind could not be wrong. Surely he had a right to be happy. And if his father objected to the match, well...

Coldness came over him as he recalled the dreadful news Rosalind had told him. His father too, lay dead. The knowledge that Rosaline loved him had momentarily blotted out that tragedy. And now Cedric felt a great torment as two powerful emotions raged in his breast. Grief and desire.

And yet there was another emotion which strained at him. Revenge. James Gilbert had killed his father and had almost taken Rosalind, his love, from him. Bringing the guilty man to justice must be his endeavour now. Death and love must wait.

As he reached the three waiting horsemen, Twm Beynon waved an arm in the direction of the road that served around the back of the estate.

‘Think we’ve spotted him, sir,’ he called. ‘For some mad reason he seems to be making for the cliffs.

Cedric was silent, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by events.

‘What is wrong, Cedric? Is all well at the house?’ Richard asked.

‘Sir Leopold is dead,’ Cedric said simply. ‘James Gilbert killed him.’

‘What?

‘Oh my God!’

Richard looked concerned. ‘My sister and my nieces...’

‘The womenfolk are unharmed,’ Cedric said. ‘They have now secured themselves inside the house.’ Cedric clenched his fist. ‘We must find this murdering daemon and deal with him.’

‘We best split up again,’ Mr Dunbar suggested.

‘He intends to escape by sea,’ Cedric told them. ‘He’s attempting to get to the village and the beach to secure a boat. We must prevent that. Once at sea he will be lost to us.’

‘He’s probably on the path now somewhere,’ Twm Beynon opined. ‘May I suggest, sirs, that two of us ride the road behind the estate and get onto the cliff path higher up? At the same time, two of us remain concealed here amongst these bushes. We can then trap him between the two.’

‘Sound thinking, Beynon,’ Richard Whillowby said. ‘You and Mr Dunbar take the road. Mr Trevellian and I will remain here. Be careful of that pistol.’

Twm Beynon and Mr Dunbar rode off immediately, and Cedric and Richard, leaving their horses out of view on the road, took refuge in the dense shrubs that gathered along the path at this point.

‘I am sorry about your father,’ Richard murmured. ‘But what made Gilbert kill him do you think?’

Cedric was silent for a moment. He was ashamed of the amoral life his father had led and yet Richard was family. He had the right to know.

‘James Gilbert was my father’s illegitimate son,’ he said in a quiet voice.  'I have known that such a son existed for some time, but only recently became aware that he was in the village.  My father's reluctance to face-down the curate made me suspect he was the one.'