Chapter Five
Enid had only ever seen such a large percentage of the local population gathered in one place when marking a birth, marriage, or death. Not one of those things had transpired, yet there they all were, leaning against the iron fence surrounding the Pryce family garden, watching Burke intently.
“Are they also hoping to catch a glimpse of your ghost?” Burke asked. She likely shouldn’t think of him by his Christian name, but she’d allowed herself the silent indulgence the night before and found it had already become an unbreakable habit.
“Ghosts are hardly reason for excitement. An Englishman traipsing about in the mud, however. . .” She let the sentence dangle.
“I am making a spectacle of myself?” Unlike every other gentleman she knew, excepting her father and brother, he did not seem overly concerned about appearing less than perfect. She liked that about him. “Perhaps if I sang a verse or two of ‘Ar Hyd y Nos,’ they would find me less of an oddity.”
“In the original Welsh?” she pressed.
“Of course.”
Her heart flipped about inside. He knew Welsh folk songs in Welsh.
He likely even spoke the language a bit.
She’d been mocked in Bath for the Welsh turn in her voice, not having been trained to sound more English, as so many of the wealthiest Welsh families insisted their children be.
Trev had admitted to much the same treatment at Harrow and Oxford.
Enid had simply assumed the English weren’t overly fond of the Welsh.
But Burke was. So much so, in fact, that his life’s work involved studying Wales’s history and people and culture.
An idea suddenly entered her mind, and, true to form, she spoke it immediately. “Good heavens. What dunderheads we are being. You have come to Wales to gather folklore and tales, and here you are surrounded by an entire town of Welshmen, and you’ve not spoken to a single one of them.”
She could see the moment her idea became clear to him. “Would they talk to me, do you think? Even with my Englishness on full display?”
The grandson of a nobleman, and yet he was humble, unsure of his reception amongst a group of people who would likely go entirely unnoticed by most in his position. Was it possible to continue liking him more with each passing moment?
“They might be wary at first,” she acknowledged. “But as soon as they realize how sincerely you wish to learn from them and how deeply you value them as Welshmen, they will spill every story they know into your ears.”
“Would you be willing to make the introductions?” Heavens, but he looked nervous. “Your endorsement would, no doubt, ease any concerns they might have.”
She offered him her hand, a gesture she knew would earn her the censure of all the judgmental matrons in Bath but which she found perfectly suited the moment. He slipped his hand in hers and allowed himself to be led toward the crowd.
“Neighbors,” she greeted them. “This is Mr. Burke Kennard, an Englishman.”
The expected ripple of curiosity mingled with disapproval made its way around the fence.
“He is here in Wales because he finds us far better company than his countrymen.”
She heard Burke stifle a laugh. How rare it was to find someone outside of her family who shared her sense of the ridiculous.
“Further, he wishes to learn more of our culture and history. He is here, most particularly, to make the acquaintance of Dafydd Gam.”
Nods of approval bobbed in all directions.
“And, while Dafydd Gam is being his usual difficult self, I am hopeful that we can find tales enough to share with our visitor so his love of this land will grow all the more.”
“Have you told him of Arwel the Uneven?” Leave it to the butcher to think of that tale first.
“I have not,” Enid said. “Perhaps you’d care to share.”
The butcher leaned against the iron fence. “Arwel did not start out uneven, having been born with all his limbs and essential bits. But when one earns one’s keep felling trees, one ought not to be loose-gripped with the ax.”
Burke was mesmerized, just as Enid knew he would be.
She’d grown up with a father who loved a good tale and a brother who craved knowledge the way most gentlemen craved brandy.
Three months amongst the gentlemen of the ton had left her despairing of ever meeting one who shared her family’s odd taste in diversions.
Yet here was a fascinating gentleman who had quite literally walked into her life.
As one tale led to another, Burke grew entirely at ease with the gathering, at one point slipping through the garden gate to sit among them, jotting notes in a small bound book that he pulled from his jacket pocket. He repeatedly encouraged them to share more.
Old Mrs. Gowans was called upon to share a song but shied away from the suggestion.
“I know it only in Welsh. The English don’t care for our language.”
Burke’s gentle smile immediately began working its magic, and Mrs. Gowans hemmed and hawed a bit. But when he, as he’d jokingly suggested earlier, began singing to her in Welsh, the dear old woman simply melted. She joined in, and soon the entire gathering took up the familiar tune.
Enid watched in amazement. He was magical. Wonderful. “I want him to stay,” she declared almost silently.
A voice whispered from behind her, “You must not take what is not yours.”
She spun about and came face-to-face with the very apparition they’d been hoping to summon. Only the day before she’d come to this garden calling for Dafydd Gam, but in that moment she wished him far, far away.
Burke had only come to meet this ghost, and once he had, he would leave.
“I haven’t stolen anything,” she whispered. “And I promise I won’t, only please go.”
One of his bushy brows arched high while the other dipped low. His ghostly mouth turned in displeased confusion.
Enid glanced over at Burke and the gathering. They were all quite distracted by their song. Now was her opportunity. “I need you to play least in sight for a day or two.”
Dafydd Gam folded his arms across his chest. His broad shoulders pulled backward in defiance.
“I am not above bribery,” Enid said. “I will bring you sweets from the kitchen.”
He tossed her a look clearly meant to convey what a ridiculous idea that was. He even motioned at his translucent belly.
“Or—” Enid thought quickly. How did one go about bribing a ghost? “I will solemnly vow not to pilfer any daffodils next spring.”
He was beginning to look more than a little put out with her. It had been a half-baked offer, really. No one ever stole daffodils from Dafydd Gam’s garden. Not ever.
“I have nothing to offer just now, but I will think on it. Only, please, go. He will leave once he meets you, and I am not ready for him to desert me yet.”
Dafydd Gam held up a single finger.
“One week? You’ll stay away for one week?” She knew the guess was optimistic.
He shook his head, keeping that one finger extended.
“One day?”
He nodded and disappeared.
One day it was, then. She had one single day in which to either convince Burke Kennard to remain even after his reason for coming had been accomplished, or to think of an offer tempting enough to convince Dafydd Gam to extend his “one day” into a week. Or two.
“And did Mairwen marry the squire, or was she convinced to go forward with the marriage to the aged knight?” Burke’s entire attention was on Mr. Jones, the blacksmith, who most certainly knew how to weave an intriguing tale.
“Sadly, her father’s will carried, and she was forced into the arranged match. The squire, bereft of hope, followed Henry to France and was killed at Agincourt.” Mr. Jones sighed loudly. “Upon hearing of his death, Mairwen died of a broken heart.”
“Why is it the unfortunate squire or the heartsick Mairwen aren’t the ones haunting these gardens rather than Dafydd Gam?” Burke addressed the question to everyone at once. Everyone turned immediately to Enid.
She held her hands up in a show of innocence. “Leeks and daffodils,” she reminded him.
“And how is it you know he is Dafydd Gam?” Burke asked. “Does he introduce himself as such?”
That gave her pause. Generations of her family had known who he was, but who had been the first to discover it? Dafydd Gam never said anything beyond the one sentence.
“We’ve simply always known,” she said.
He readily accepted her answer. “We’ll have to ask him, I suppose.” His gaze slid around the garden. “If he ever makes an appearance.”
Enid covered her blush of guilt by turning to face the gardens as well. “It is very strange. Who would ever have guessed he would stay away so long?” I am going to be struck down by a vengeful deity.
“I think I had best walk Miss Pryce back inside. Her family will be wondering what has delayed her so long.” Burke’s manners were impeccable, as always.
Before beginning their trek to the house, he turned back and waved to the townspeople. They waved back enthusiastically. He’d won them all over so quickly and so easily.
I want him to stay, Dafydd Gam. Somehow I will find a way to keep him here with me.