Women of Courage, page 43
Faith tries for the tenth time to sneak off to the kitchens to help Cook, but as with each of the other times, Geoffrey seemingly outmaneuvers her, gliding her back to his side.
‘In the New Year you may do as you wish, however, for now I cannot bear for you to be far from my side,’ and reaching out he takes her hand. Slipping her tiny hand into his, she can’t help but thank God for blessing her beyond measure.
‘They’re coming,’ announces Eva with glee as she bounces into the dining room with a plate full of stuffing balls. Behind her march an army of staff and the Morgan sisters, each carrying a dish of Christmas delights which they lay in the center of the huge table.
Everyone gathers around.
‘Well, Mrs. Jones, you have excelled yourself, this looks like the finest Christmas feast I have ever seen.’
Cook swells with pride at the praise from Lord Driscoll. ‘Are you sure you want us to stay?’ she asks, looking at him a bit nervously.
‘I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, except that I want to marry Faith, that is.’
‘Aah,’ say all the women in union.
‘Please, sit wherever you like,’ says Geoffrey sitting at the head of the table.
Once they are all seated, Geoffrey stands.
‘I’d like to say grace.’
Everyone bows their heads, except Bertie who shouts out, ‘Grace, grace.’
‘Hush,’ whispers Faith, bringing him over onto her lap.
Geoffrey’s prayer is one of thanks from beginning to end and everyone joins in with a heartfelt agreement of ‘amen’ as he finishes.
It takes a while for awkward politeness to pass and for everyone to relax and to start enjoying the meal. Friendly banter ping-pongs across the table and there is much laughter, a lot of which is caused by either Reuben or Humphrey with their ‘honest’ stories. Faith notices how close Reuben and Olwen are sitting and this brings warmth to her heart.
‘I have an announcement to make,’ declares Margaret when everyone has finally finished eating. A hushed atmosphere follows as they look at her expectantly. ‘I have, of late, become very close to Jessie Penn-Lewis. She has moved my spirit so much that I have decided to travel to Russia with her in the spring.’
‘Russia!’ cry several people at once.
‘Yes, Russia. She believes the spirit is calling her to take the gospel to the people there where she is told there is much poverty of religious belief.’
‘Aren’t they barbarians, those Russians?’ asks Cook, looking completely shocked.
Margaret smiles. ‘No, actually they are very civilized, although I hear there is much poverty in most of Russia. I believe totally that God has called me to accompany her.’
‘How long will you go for?’ asks Geoffrey.
‘At least three months.’
‘You’re very brave, milady,’ says Olwen.
‘Could I come with you, do you think?’ asks Maisy.
‘Certainly not,’ interjects Bernard.
‘Father, I am well past the age of asking your permission to travel. At twenty-three, I think I can safely say I am my own women.’
‘You’re at the age you should be getting married, not traveling overseas to foreign lands. Goodness, Maisy, I would do nothing but worry about you. No, you must stay here, I insist.’
‘How would ew feel if I sneaked out of the house in the middle of the night and ew didn’t know where I was? Wouldn’t ew prefer to give me your blessing, and for me to inform you of every step of my journey?’
‘I would rather you honored your father’s wishes.’
‘Before you fall out,’ says Nell, ‘I don’t believe as yet that Lady Driscoll has given her consent to your traveling with her?’
Everyone looks at Margaret. ‘I do not wish to start a family feud, however, if the Lord is calling Maisy to mission then maybe you should consider praying about it, Mr. Morgan?’
‘Is that really what you want, Maisy? To be a missionary?’ asks Bernard.
‘I have had a burning in my chest for near on a year now, Tad (father). So many young people are leaving Wales and taking the torch of revival with them to different parts of the world. I have been praying for a long time now that the Lord might show me where He wants me to go and as soon as Lady Margaret said she was going to Russia a fire burst forth within me. I must go, truly I tell you, I must.’
‘Then I must pray on it in all earnestness.’
Maisy jumps out of her seat and runs around the table to his chair. Throwing her arms around his shoulders, she declares. ‘Rwyf wrth fy modd i chi Dadi.’ (I love you Daddy)
‘We live in remarkable times,’ says Humphrey.
‘We do. Blessed we are and that’s the truth,’ agrees Cook.
A number of here-here’s echo around the table.
‘Why God blessed us so, we will not know until we reach His side, but I am grateful, so very grateful to be living in such a day as this,’ says Margaret.
‘I have attended numerous meetings regarding this revival,’ says Geoffrey. ‘Everyone is in agreement; it started because there were a handful of men and women who sought God’s kingdom with all their might. Evan Roberts is the one most well-known but there are others, including Miss Jessie Penn-Lewis. Together they must have stirred God’s heart.’
‘I have only known God for a short time,’ announces Faith. ‘Yet I have felt His hand on my life in a miraculous way. I don’t just mean in seeing the miracle of Cookie regaining her sight. I mean inside me. His Spirit, like balm to my soul, has healed my past wounds. I fully understand now the Bible where it says ‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.’ How blessed I feel right now, how abundant in love is my life when not so long ago I felt unworthy and unlovable. I cannot believe how much has changed in such a short time, it is almost too much.’
Geoffrey quickly moves, and coming behind her wraps his arms protectively around her.
‘God loves you, Faith, and so do we.’
On the roof of the Driscoll mansion two angels stand side by side and raise their voices heavenwards.
Here is love, vast as the ocean
Lovin- kindness as the flood
When the Prince of Life, our Ransom
Shed for us His precious blood
Who His love will not remember?
Who can cease to sing His praise?
He can never be forgotten
Throughout Heaven's eternal days
On the mount of crucifixion
Fountains opened deep and wide
Through the floodgates of God's mercy
Flowed a vast and gracious tide
Grace and love, like mighty rivers
Poured incessant from above
And Heaven's peace and perfect justice
Kissed a guilty world in love
The Welsh Revival
1904 ~ 1905
It is said that 80% of Calvanistic/Methodists churches can trace their roots back to Evan Roberts and Moriah Chapel. Not only was Evan attributed to much of the outpouring of God, but he was surrounded by women of faith who took both the Word and the Spirit of God across Europe and the world.
Although Evan asked God for 100,000 souls it is said that the number actually reached was far greater than this. Revival moved the people of Wales, the love of God stirred them and their lives were forever changed for the better.
Left: Evan Roberts Right: Maggie & Annie Davies, far right Miss E A Jones
Faith in Abertillery is a story inspired by a newspaper article I read on line, taken from a Welsh newspaper in 1905, giving an account of a service the reporter had been to, in Ebenezer’s church.
Contrary to what some people have told me along the way of writing this story, Welsh was actually spoken a lot in South Wales in 1905, many of the articles I came across told of the services being taken in Welsh. I also read two novels, written by Welsh people, set in South Wales during the revival, so I borrowed some lingo from the books because I wanted this piece of writing to reflect what Wales was like back then, and not what it is today.
Today all the blackened streets and buildings have gone, along with the collieries. I visited Abertillery recently and found it quaint and quiet. I would have loved to have walked the streets in years gone by and to have attended the church when the outpouring of God’s Holy Spirit was happening. What an amazing time that must have been!
The surrounding countryside around Abertillery is breath-taking. The Brecon Beacons are a walker’s paradise, but the thing I will always remember... is how wonderful the Welsh people are. So warm, friendly, helpful and inviting, it really was very noticeable.
Lastly, the main characters and the supporting roles all come from my imagination. However, Evan Roberts and the ladies who accompanied him were very real and their mark on history profound.
To read more on this, visit the Welldigger blog, link below.
There was never a manor (to my knowledge) in Abertillery, only something I am told that was referred to as... the big house on the hill. The inspiration for Driscoll Manor comes from a manor, not so far away, called Treowen House, which opens its doors to visitors. https://www.treowen.co.uk
Thanks to - www.freepik.com For the free calligraphy under the chapter numbers.
Research Sources
For the history of club foot –
https://globalclubfoot.com/clubfoot/history-of-clubfoot-management
For inspiration on the life in Abertillery - http://www.abertillery.net/oldabertillery/memories.html
The National Library of Wales –
For numerous newspaper clippings https://newspapers.library.wales
For accurate reporting on revival meetings http://daibach-welldigger.blogspot.com/2015/05/extraordinary-revival-singers-1-davies.html
Revival and Mission, Evan Roberts visit to Abertillery http://daibach-welldigger.blogspot.com/2019/02/sidney-evans-in-abertillery-in-1905.html
Inspiration for the story came when I read this article:
https://www.bbc.co.uk/religion/religions/christianity/history/welshrevival_1.shtml
Glossary of Welsh Words
Ach
Disgust
Ach-y-fi
Exclamation of distaste
Anwyl, Anwl
Dear, dear
Ay henwr
Old man
Bach
Endearing word for small or dear
Bake-stones
Welsh cakes
Bore da chi
Good morning
Canmol Duw
Praise God
Cawl
Stew
Croten
Homely name for lass
Cwtch
Cuddle
Diolch byth
Thank goodness
Diwygiad
Reformation, the revival
Duw
God
Duw da
Good God
Duw duw
oh dear, accompanied by shaking of the head
Hen Gymru Wen!
Dear Old Wales!
Hwyl fawr
Goodbye
Machgen I or Bachgen
Lad
Nos da
Night
Nos da chi
Goodnight
N'wncwl
(my) Uncle
Penstif
Obstinate
Poorly-bard
Sick - and fed up
Shwmae
Hi there
Swper
Supper
Tad
Father
Tatties
Potatoes
Tid yma, cariad
Here, love
Ew
This is a pronunciation of You
Yer
This is a pronunciation of Here
was
Is said instead of were
Charity
My thanks go to Nigel who tirelessly, without pay, helps to check my books over for the many errors I produce, you are the best muse any author could ask for.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Charity in Cheshire Copyright © T N Traynor 2020 – All rights reserved
The rights of T N Traynor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988
Book cover by Deranged Doctor Designs
https://www.derangeddoctordesign.com
Chapter 1
I don’t think home is a place. It’s more a sense of being and belonging. Possessions don’t create the abode where I dream of dwelling anyway, which is funny really considering where I live. No, for me, home is the inner acceptance of being in the right place, at the right time, and hopefully surrounded by the right people.
So I’m really not being glib when I say most emphatically that diamonds are most definitely not a girl’s best friend. Nor are money, fancy clothes or mansions. I would swap it all for friendship, someone to confide in, share my woes with, and maybe give and receive hugs now and again. Oh, how I miss being held. Somehow, over the years I seem to have lost everyone I considered a true friend, well except for Nana of course. When Nana squeezes me tight, all sorts of happiness bubble inside me. I used to blame Roland for the loss of my friends: his habit and bombastic ways are hard to tolerate for normal everyday people. But I’ve come to the conclusion that I am the sum of my own decisions. Does that mean I am finally growing up?
Don’t get me wrong, I am not a poor little rich girl. Far from it, I’m very aware of how lucky I am, and what luxury I live in. It’s just I feel empty inside. Lonely, I guess. Of course, there are a multitude of offers to do lunch, and a plethora of invitations to help with this or that charity event. I could even go to a dinner party every night of the year if I so wished, which of course I don’t.
My immaculate, extremely still, reflection seems to have something she wants to say. She doesn’t speak of course, captured behind the cold, hard glass of an ornate full length mirror. An echo of me, caught in a world I don’t recognize with little understanding of how I got here, or to be more accurate, why I don’t leave. Beauty and elegance reflect back at me. Who are you, and where have I gone? When did I go? There’s no response from lifeless eyes that gaze back at me. They’re what? Warning? Pitiful? Accusing?
‘You ready yet, Charity? Not like you to be late for anything.’
It’s hard to draw my attention away from the stranger in the mirror. The silver full-length Dior haute couture gown clings to my thin frame. When did I become a size eight? It doesn’t suit me, I look gaunt. Chic the papers call me, but I know better, cliché is more like it.
I flick my velvety, kohl-lined eyes to the side. My china-doll expressionless face tilts slightly, as I look my husband up and down. Roland is still dashing, and his Paris-designed suit will be the envy of all and the talk of celeb gossip tomorrow. At six feet two inches, he towers over my small five feet two frame; I used to love that about him. Ours had been a whirlwind romance, the stuff of dreams. Back then I’d had no idea of his privileged background. We’d simply done the same stuff as all the other students, nights in the pub, walking hand-in-hand by the river and lots of dancing. He’d always made me feel safe and petite when he wrapped his arms around me. When was the last time he’d done that?
He finishes tying his made-to-order Venetian, silver mask around his head. Peeking through, his baby blue eyes are misted over and slightly bloodshot.
Air escapes my lips with a steam-cooker hiss, while I concentrate on reining in my disappointment. He’s hit the coke already. Fun party this is going to be. ‘I’ll be down in a minute, you go ahead. I’ll catch you up.’
Roland finishes adjusting his bow tie and comes over. He leans down and kisses the top of my head. I’m reminded of a father’s affection. ‘You look stunning as usual. Those diamonds suit you so well. I’m glad you changed your mind and put them on.’
Anything to keep the peace. ‘I find them very heavy, but for you...’
‘That’s my girl. See you downstairs. Don’t be long. This whole shebang is for you after all.’ Roland sniffs as he leaves the master bedroom. A shudder crawls along my back as I cringe. I can’t stand that sound. It’s a sound that has driven me crazy for the last four years. Well, to be honest, there’s not much left about Roland that doesn’t drive me crazy these days.
I reach over and pick up the white faux fur wrap off the chair, pulling it around my bare shoulders. It hides the hideous necklace perfectly. I almost crack a smile. In my hair sits a delicate diamond and pearl head-piece which, with the matching drop earrings, would have been enough for me. The cascading necklace lying so coldly upon my décolletage is just over-the-top flamboyant, but that’s Roland for you. He always loves to perform. Throwing this birthday masquerade ball for me is more about showing off than expressing love.
Tightening my black-lace mask into place I lean forward and squint at the mirror. ‘Who are you, and where have I gone?’
Hazel eyes glisten back at me, the black mask making them appear to pop. Those I recognize, albeit their sparkle has diminished. My heart-shaped lips glisten with deep pink gloss, but they don’t open to answer me.
I straighten, sucking in breath like I’m preparing for a deep-sea dive. Suddenly, I throw my arms wide, tilt my chin upwards. A slight bend of my right knee sends my hip askew. ‘Let’s get this party started,’ I sing to the empty room, in full Shirley Bassey imitation. With a wink at my alien reflection, I scoop up the side of my dress and sashay out of the room, almost like a woman in full control.
