Co. Cork, Ireland, 1925
The little boys looked at each other in bewilderment. The woman had clearly stated that she was going to rebuild the castle. That would mean an end to their games. They listened harder. “To think I used to play in those rooms. I used to watch the glamorous ladies arriving for the Summer Ball in their fine gowns and sparkling jewels and marvel at the beauty of it all. Because it really was beautiful then. I don’t think there was anywhere else in the world more beautiful than Castle Deverill at that time of the year, on that night, when the sun was setting and turning it all to gold. You can’t imagine how magnificent it was. But I remember. I’ve always remembered. That’s why I wanted to preserve it. I couldn’t bear to see it go to anyone else.” She sighed and shook her head. “But now it’s mine. I will rebuild it stone by stone, brick by brick and bring back those glory days. We’ll bring them back together because this wouldn’t have been possible if it hadn’t been for you. Oh, Archie, you’re just wonderful to me.” Celia took his hand. “And our children will play with Kitty’s just like we used to do. History will repeat itself. One big happy family.” Archie put his arm around her and smiled. “One big happy family,” she repeated with pleasure, conveniently forgetting the centuries of family curses, brutality, greed and self-indulgence. “Just the way it should be. A Deverill’s castle is his kingdom, after all.”
And so it was that Deverill money had gone full circle, because when Digby had rescued Archie Mayberry in return for taking back his disgraceful wife he had given him the means with which he would eventually show his gratitude for their unexpectedly happy marriage. In some ways, one could say that an empty-headed girl wearing nothing but a pair of white silk gloves had saved Castle Deverill.