Castle In The Clouds, Chapters 3 & 4 (standard:drama, 2074 words) [2/21] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Apr 06 2009	Views/Reads: 2877/1883	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A wealthy banker purchases an island castle and encounters a beautiful violinist, the woman of his dreams - or so he thinks. Chapters 3 and 4 of a completed story.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

' Llewellyn nodded as Hambleton departed, and satisfied with the wisdom
of his butler's suggestion, strode to his dark oak cabinet, whereupon 
he poured his finest scotch and gazed out to sea. *                     
         *                            * 

Two days later, Dorothea sat in the dining room, eyeing her brother from
under her heavy lashes. 'Should you not be making preparation for 
returning to London, Thomas? Your train is but one hour away.' 

Llewellyn was stirred from his thoughts, eager anticipation of the
arrival shortly, of a violin from Edinburgh. 'My profound apologies for 
not informing you, dear sister – I shall be staying a while longer.' 

Llewellyn derived satisfaction from a brief flicker of his sister's
eyelids and a sudden tic in her cheek, which often exhibited itself 
when she was irked. 

'What might I ask induced this change in your normally meticulous
planning, a certain washed-up violinist?' 

'Spare me your humourless taunts, Dorothea, and improve upon your
nature. We are to receive a guest at dinner this evening.' 

Llewellyn watched Dorothea's lips tighten and twist. 'Yes, Veronica Day,
and we are to be treated to a private recital in the gallery.' 

'Without an instrument, Thomas? From what I understand she lost about
everything but the clothes she wore.' 

'It is being arranged.' Llewellyn smiled at Dorothea's discomfort, 'and
before you exercise your razor sharp tongue, I seek to improve Miss 
Day's fortunes, nothing more.' 

Dorothea placed her cup down and tilted her head back, fixing him with a
long, unblinking stare, 'And has Miss Day any knowledge of this?' 

'Do not concern yourself on that account.' Llewellyn took in the
tautness of his sister's facial muscles with pleasure, 'It is as good 
as done.' 

Satisfied with having gained the upper hand over Dorothea, Llewellyn
left her to simmer, and his spirits were further raised when the 
Stradivarius violin arrived at lunchtime, Hambleton being as good as 
his word. Hambleton had established contact with a specialist supplier 
who had knowledge of Veronica Day's career and had provided the ideal 
instrument. 

With the violin in his possession Llewellyn immediately set out for the
village in his trap, drawing the pony to a halt in the main street, 
outside the address Mrs. Simms had provided him with. 

He knocked and heard the sound of footsteps within, and was shortly
greeted by the violinist, wearing a long floral dress, her hair tied 
back so that her refined features were fully displayed. 

'Why, Mr. Llewellyn -' 

'Miss Day, please excuse my unannounced arrival, but I felt I had to
compensate for the tragic consequences of your demise.' 

'I'm not sure I understand you -' 

'Please bear with me for an instant.' Llewellyn went to the back of the
trap, lifting out the cased violin. 'Please accept this as a gift from 
me, a token of my deep sorrow at your losses and -' 

'Oh but I cannot, really I cannot -' 

Llewellyn saw her glance down, saw recognition of the manufacturer's
label. 'It is too much, I cannot justify receiving it from you -' 

'Oh but you can,' Llewellyn focused on her brown eyes, jewels in her
face, 'for I ask something in return.' Before she could respond he held 
his free hand aloft, 'I only ask that you perform at the castle, a 
private recital. It would be a privilege and an honour to receive you 
and to hear you play.' 

Veronica was silent, Llewellyn thought she might not accept, but in a
singular graceful movement she stretched her limbs, relieved him of the 
instrument and nodded. 'Then I do accept, if only to express my 
gratitude. When would you desire my presence, Mr. Llewellyn?' 

Llewellyn fingered his moustache, looking directly into her fine
features, her soft, flawless skin, feeling a tremble from head to foot. 
'If it pleases you, this evening; following which we will enjoy 
dinner.' 

She raised her brows, looked uncertain, 'Why, such short notice; I need
to familiarise with my new instrument -' 

'And I need to return to London at similarly short notice; the
opportunity might not arise again.' 

'Then I will begin rehearsal immediately, and will attend the castle
at?' 'Six o'clock would be excellent.' 

Llewellyn bade Veronica Day farewell, for six short hours at least. 

But farewell, with regard to her, was not a word which figured
prominently in his thoughts. 

CHAPTER FOUR 

Veronica Day sat in the small drawing room caressing the strings of her
new violin before running her fingers over its russet surface. How kind 
it had been of Mr. Llewellyn to go to the trouble and expense of 
purchasing a replacement violin for her – and to be able to acquire one 
so similar to her own treasured instrument – surely he must have some 
form of expert knowledge on the subject, she thought to question him 
later. 

She turned her attention to the four walls, each of them mounted with
three rectangular paintings, all of sea-going vessels, with several 
depicting lifeboats in action at the scene of a troubled ship. One such 
painting, of a stormy evening in failing light, with the wind seeming 
to hurl huge buckets of swirling foam over the bows of a distressed 
craft, brought re-charged memories that smashed their way into a mind 
unwilling to receive them. She'd need to come to terms with the 
tragedy, with the loss of life that had ensued thus leaving her the 
only survivor, but not yet. Too soon; far too soon. 

But as she struggled in the sea, sucking in air, spitting out water,
she'd seen the lifeboat bearing down on her, its bow plunging through 
the heavy tide. 

She had no trouble recalling that instant, or the sight of a young man
perched ready to jump, which a second later he had – in one expert 
movement diving alongside and then drawing her towards the boat where 
they'd both been pulled to safety. 

Truly, that was one moment she would never forget. From enquiries in the
village she'd learned the man's name was John Gibbings, that he could 
be found most days tending the castle grounds where he worked as a 
gardener. 

She'd been on her way there, to thank him personally for his bravery
when she'd encountered Mr. Llewellyn – an imposing and distinguished 
looking man upon first reflection descending the castle slope. She'd 
thought at first she'd been trespassing and had been about to turn 
heel, but he'd bade her continue and then, reluctant to reveal the true 
intent of her visit she'd declined. During their brief encounter 
however, she'd sensed that Mr. Llewellyn had taken an instant liking to 
her, and in truth, was looking forward to her evening at his castle, 
notwithstanding her usual apprehension in unfamiliar company. 

*                               *                               * 

'Do not worry dear brother; your appearance is as usual impeccable. Our
distinguished guest cannot fail to be impressed.' 

Llewellyn gave a start; Dorothea had been standing at his half-open door
as he examined himself in the mirror. 'Dorothea,' he snapped, turning 
on her, 'please find a more deserving outlet for your tasteless 
sarcasm; we are most fortunate to be receiving a personal recital from 
a renowned musician, please remember that.' 

Dorothea raised her heavy brows, lifted her face and with a smirk, said,
'Using an instrument you went to untold length and cost to acquire for 
her.' 

Before Llewellyn could deliver an appropriate retort Dorothea had swept
away along the gallery and down the castle stairs, leaving him 
irritated beyond measure. 

Nevertheless, despite his sister's humourless broadsides, Llewellyn was
determined to look his best to receive their visitor, thus he departed 
the castle in pony and trap wearing a dark blazer, white shirt and 
bright flannel trousers; out of keeping with the costume of the island 
but entirely in keeping with his own standard of dress. 

He drove along the coast road before entering the village and, pulling
up at her lodgings, jumped down from the trap to be received by the 
tall woman with flaming red hair who'd so captivated him.  Attired in a 
white satin shawl and full length lilac dress she presented a picture 
of immeasurable beauty. 

Llewellyn caught his breath at the sight of her but she seemed not to
notice, as he took her violin case in one hand, and with the other 
gently guided her up into the trap. 

'I trust you will enjoy your evening at the castle,' he said, letting go
of her hand reluctantly and taking up the reins, 'it is quite a special 
place you know.' 

'I'm quite sure it is,' she said, adjusting her dress around her long
legs, 'and that I shall enjoy it; likewise I trust you will enjoy my 
recital.' 

'Of course, I shall.' Llewellyn gave a broad smile, tweaked his
moustache, then forced his attention to the road; out of the corner of 
his eye he saw Veronica in her seat, her back held straight against the 
padded bench; she had perfect poise as well as natural beauty. 

To the east, the sky was blue, and along the open approach to the castle
the sea seemed filled with green jewels. And he, Thomas Llewellyn had 
invited the finest jewel of them all to his castle, for an evening 
never to be forgotten. 


Tweet