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Castle In The Clouds, Chapters Fifteen and Sixteen (standard:drama, 3109 words) [8/21] show all parts | |||
Author: Brian Cross | Added: Oct 21 2009 | Views/Reads: 2544/1826 | Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
Thomas Llewellyn has purchased a castle adapted as a residence, but the is mounting disharmony between the woman of his dreams and the other occupants | |||
Chapter Fifteen Dorothea watched from the gallery as Llewellyn led the pony & trap onto the track at the bottom of the slope. It had stopped raining and the sun had broken through. That was a pity for she would loved to have seen the oh – so – elegant - and refined Miss Day receive another soaking. The fact that she had deliberately splashed rain from a soaked coat into her face was enraging, but she had amassed all her self control and drawn back from the confrontation the woman had seemed set on provoking. That she'd had the nerve and stupidity to attempt such a thing was galling in itself, she could only suppose it to be a pathetic attempt to get her to incur her brother's wrath, thus undermining her position in the castle. If so it had failed dismally, and she'd come out all the stronger for it; she might have been out-manoeuvred during the scene on the terrace but she'd evened the score by her admirable display of self-control. All she needed now was to patiently wait out the next couple of days, until Veronica Day's departure. For once Hambleton would be her ally in persuading Thomas that this woman must never return, that she was a disruptive, even malicious influence, far from the perfect woman her brother supposed her to be. She pressed her hands onto the sill, leaning closer to the window; Thomas had drawn the trap to a halt and appeared to be in intense conversation with Day. He'd taken her hands in his and for a moment Dorothea had misgivings. Had this boring island turned him into a hopeless romantic? She couldn't understand how Llewellyn had become so besotted with the woman. He'd never been so lovelorn in the past. But it had only been fleeting, in a moment she'd extracted her hands or he'd released his grip, she wasn't sure which, and shortly afterwards the journey was resumed. What had occurred to cause him to draw the trap to a halt? She shook her head; it wasn't a question worth dwelling on. There were more pressing matters. Passing Veronica's room she pushed the door open, her violin sat on its stand, the bow alongside. There was an urge, almost irresistible to smash it to pieces; it wasn't hers anyway, Thomas had foolishly bought it, so the satisfaction, quite apart from a response from her brother that Veronica would gleefully appreciate, was muted. She passed through the castle hall and onto the slope; Gibbings was on his way up it, a broody look in his dark eyes. 'Ah Gibbings, I was coming in search of you, my window latch is stiff, it requires attention, but first show me your hands.' He was slow to present them for her inspection and she thought she saw annoyance in his eyes. 'Don't hold back on me Gibbings, Dorothea said quietly. 'My brother returns to London shortly, if I am dissatisfied with your manner I am at liberty to dispense with your services.' She took his slowly extended hands and turned them palm upward, pressing on his fingertips, her face close to his. 'Clean enough,' she whispered through pouted lips. 'This evening I need to inspect our property, expect me at seven -' 'Gibbings shook his head, 'Lifeboat duty Miss Llewellyn.' Dorothea wafted a hand. 'Then I shall attend at nine – now come and adjust this infernal latch.' * * * Veronica reached her room and saw at once the door had been pushed open. She inspected her belongings, none had been touched. She sighed, supposing it could have been the wind, the castle got draughty when the breeze was strong. Washing her hair free of the salt and grit that their lengthy trap ride had bestowed on it, she recalled the events of the day. Thomas had conceded control of the reins to her, full of admiration for the way she handled them. They'd crossed the causeway onto the mainland and journeyed through the countryside to Berwick, where they'd enjoyed a meal at a hotel before returning shortly before the tide cut the causeway off. Click here to read the rest of this story (339 more lines)
This is part 8 of a total of 21 parts. | ||
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Brian Cross has 33 active stories on this site. Profile for Brian Cross, incl. all stories Email: briancroff@yahoo.co.uk |