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: 2546/1826	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

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Thomas had asked much about her musical career but it was part of her
life she was  reluctant to elaborate on. In truth much of it had been 
forced on her - she'd been conditioned to becoming a concert violinist, 
when her love was for the open spaces and expansive skies and 
shorelines of the north-east. 

Similarly, she had no real interest in the growing world of banking,
though she'd thought to engage Thomas in polite conversation in that 
respect. 

Could he really reach agreement with his clients and buy Dorothea out?
She thought at once of John Gibbings, some of his problems would be 
solved were she to return to London. Some, for she was certain Dorothea 
was not his only problem, something else lay beneath, deeply rooted. 
Finding out what that something was, remained uppermost in her mind. 

Thomas had been reserved at first, one glance had been enough for her to
determine as much. Hambleton's influence no doubt; unlike Dorothea his 
words carried weight. But what had Hambleton said that had planted 
doubt in Thomas' mind? Had he overheard her talking to John on the 
terrace? 

Or had he seen something? She'd often had the feeling that someone had
been watching her from behind those Gothic windows, putting it down to 
Dorothea – but why not Hambleton? He conducted himself with civility 
but his quiet, watchful eyes travelled everywhere. Mrs. Simms could be 
ruled out, she didn't have the run of the castle that Hambleton had. 

If there was discord between Dorothea and Hambleton it didn't extend as
far as her. Both of them were likely to conspire against her. Well so 
be it, that wouldn't alter her decision to take up Thomas' kind offer 
one iota. 

Veronica towelled her hair dry, took up the violin and began to
practice. 

*                               *                              * 

It was late in the afternoon when Veronica finished practicing. She went
up to the roof garden and stared out to sea, drawing in the moist, 
salty air, aware of Hambleton's presence in the background as he 
emptied an ashtray containing Dorothea's cigarette butts. 

'Does my presence here disturb you Mr. Hambleton?' she asked, her back
to him. 

'I beg your pardon, Miss Veronica?' 

Veronica slowly turned her head. 'My presence here, I asked if it
disturbed you -' 

'Why no, Miss Veronica.' 

'I feel you are not quite telling the truth.' Veronica took several
paces towards him, arms crossed, watching his throat tighten. 'You are 
concerned that John Gibbings and I are involved in some kind of 
underhand conduct.' 

A muscle twitched in Hambleton's cheek as he shook his head. 'I would
never go so far -' 

'You may not go so far as an outright accusation Mr. Hambleton, but you
have drawn that conclusion, or one very close to it. I can inform you 
your suspicions are unfounded.' Seeing the butler's discomfort, she 
added, 'Do not think that Mr. Llewellyn has betrayed your confidence, 
my own intuition as much as anything else causes me to form this 
opinion. I have nothing but respect for your employer Mr. Hambleton, 
there is nothing underhand in progress, rest assured of that.' 

Hambleton coughed, placed his fist to his mouth, Veronica reached out
and touched him as he brought it down. 'I do not seek to make an enemy 
of you, I fear I already have one in Miss Llewellyn and one is quite 
enough, thank you.'  Veronica left the roof garden with that, leaving 
him to ponder her words. 

In a little over an hour she would be dining with Llewellyn, but in the
meantime the afternoon was bright and warm, and she would walk alone. 

Wavelets hissed and sucked on the shore, the fragrance of meadow-sweet
filled her nostrils blending with the smell of rotting sea-weed; here, 
away from crowded concert halls she bathed in the glory of clean air 
and space. Despite the tension in the castle, she would return as often 
as she could. For this would be her passport to the joys of nature. 

Veronica turned inland, negotiating the grassy mound around the volcanic
rock that supported the castle; at its summit she could look down on 
the garden and doing so now caught sight of Gibbings, busily freeing 
the garden of spent summer plants. 

Fearful that he'd react to Dorothea's torments physically she needed a
word with him, armed now with at least a modicum of hope that Thomas 
might just be able to arrange her departure. 

'It's not good for you to be here,' he glowered on her approach. 

'I came to offer you advice,' she said, unruffled by his manner. 

'I don't need advice,' he turned his back to her, bending his lean frame
into the fork. 

'Hear me out,' she said, lowering her tone. 

Gibbings exhaled heavily, thrusting his fork deep into the soil, then
hands on hips. 'Make it quick, Miss Llewellyn has the eyes of a hawk -' 


'And the looks of one,' Veronica said, tongue in cheek, noticing a flash
of amusement lighten his face, 'has the dark witch bothered you today?' 


The cloud returned. 'She pesters me every day and I've told you, you
won't make things any easier by interfering.' 

'Who said anything about interfering? It's your problem not mine, but I
can help and you'll find me more amenable if you drop your resentful 
tone.' 

'So what's the advice?' He finally met her eyes. 

'No matter how much she bothers you, do not show aggression; I sense you
are capable of it.' 

'Easy for you to say,' Gibbings snarled, 'she's carrying out her
so-called cottage inspection this evening – but that's not the reason 
she's coming.' 

'I can guess that. Just show patience and trust me,' Veronica said
calmly, undaunted by his intransigence. 'If we are lucky the dark witch 
might have outstayed her welcome at the castle.' 

Gibbings frowned, 'You mean she's leaving?' 

'I said if we're lucky. I cannot divulge any more than that but I am
hopeful – and then at least one of your problems will be solved, John 
Gibbings. There are more, aren't there?' 

For a split second his eyes were a little misty, but he blinked and they
were their normal unreadable selves. She raised a finger as she turned 
her back, 'Restrain yourself, John, that's all I ask.' 

'I'll try,' she heard him say, 'and thank you.' 

She turned at that, gave him a long, lingering smile that he returned,
then she glanced upwards, to the dining room window, from where a 
figure moved sharply back. 

*                                *                                   * 

Chapter Sixteen 

Dorothea ate dinner in her quarters, preferring to avoid the company of
the obnoxious Veronica, and her own foolishly doting brother. She 
poured a generous measure of Scotch, glancing up as Hambleton placed 
the salad dish before her. 'I feel we have a common bond for once, 
Hambleton,' she said, her head lofted towards him. 

'Madam?' 

'Come now Hambleton, your brows are raised in bewilderment when you know
full well to what I refer.' 

'If the subject is Miss Veronica, I have no wish to become embroiled in
the matter,' Hambleton replied blandly. 

Dorothea sniffed, took a gulp of whisky and regarded him with her hooded
eyes. 'You do not approve of her presence in the castle; you are not 
your normal, imperturbable self.' 

'I feel it might be unwise, Madam, to attempt to influence Mr. Llewellyn
in respect of Miss Day.' 

Dorothea sat back, interlocking her fingers, ignoring her evening meal.
'By your lowered eyes, Hambleton, do I detect that you have tried?' 

Hambleton exhaled through his nose. 'I thought it my position to express
concern – I simply feel that Mr. Llewellyn has a yearning for Miss Day 
that she does not carry for him.' 

'Because she has a fancy for Gibbings.' 

Hambleton shifted uncomfortably, 'I cannot go down that path -' 

'Nonetheless your expression betrays you; we must combine at once to
convince Thomas of his folly.' 

'I fear we are wasting our time -' 

'What causes you such pessimism?' 

'To put further pressure on Mr. Llewellyn would only incur his wrath,'
Hambleton answered, ignoring her question. 'If that is all Madam, I 
have other duties to attend to. 

'Ah, by that I assume you mean my brother and that woman.' Dorothea
picked at her salad, 'You find my brother a good and considerate 
employer, do you not? I am not finished with this, Hambleton, we will 
speak later.' 

'Madam.' Hambleton left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. 

*                                  *                               * 

The sun was sinking, crimson clouds streaking across its melon surface.
The evening had turned breezy and showery, another squall buffeting 
Dorothea as she reached Gibbings' cottage. 

Thrice she thumped the door with her fist, aggravation mounting with
each knock – was he deliberately making her wait? Large drops of rain 
began to fall on her shawl before she heard the latch being pulled back 
and the door creak open. 

'I'll thank you to attend the door with more urgency.' Pushing past him
she glanced around the drawing room, throwing her dark shawl onto the 
couch and taking a quick look at the kitchen, before thrusting open his 
bedroom door. 'Step inside Gibbings,' she said, casting her eyes around 
the room. 

'I'm alright here,' he said flatly. 

'You'll do as I say.' Suddenly her glare was upon him, a warning etched
in the furrows of her brows. 'I might consider the condition of this 
cottage to be adequate or I might provide my brother with a damning 
report, coupling it with an account of your licentious behaviour with 
that wench – now step inside while I judge.' 

The moment Gibbings stepped through her arms wrapped around him,
swinging him round. She dropped her right hand down to his crotch, her 
fingers forming a claw which clamped firmly on his testicles. He 
uttered a curse, pushing her away and breaking her hold but she simply 
laughed as she fell back, grabbing his arm with her hands, the momentum 
forcing him down on the bed on top of her. 

'Why there is fight in you Gibbings, I like that in a man, a bit of
excitement in this dull, boring place.' She squeezed her arms around 
his neck, 'Am I not attractive? A better proposition to the serving 
wench you lured here?' 

'There was no luring,' Gibbings said bitterly, and then placing his
hands on the bed to pull himself away, 'I swear I'll -' 

'You'll do what? Think carefully about what you say, your actions, your
future -' 

'I have no future.' Gibbings broke her hold, thrust her arms on the
pillow and scowled down, just as the klaxon boomed from the harbour. 

'No future?' Dorothea narrowed her eyes. 'Please me Gibbings and your
future could be bright, antagonise me and you could well be right.' 

'It's you who antagonise me.' Gibbings bit his lip, hauled himself up.
'The klaxon's sounding, I got to go -' 

'Yes, that's right Gibbings, rescue your distressed little souls while
you dream of Veronica-' 

'I don't dream of Veronica,' Gibbings yelled. Dorothea caught the flash
of anger in his eyes and smiled. 'Do you not? Well that is just as 
well, for she will not be returning to this castle, mark my words.' 

She watched her words hit home, Gibbings' haste was disturbed for just a
moment before he made for the harbour. 

Her smile turned to a glower, Veronica Day, damn her, was the centre of
attraction for Gibbings, no matter what he protested. With the finality 
of her words sinking in, he might just yield to a little pressure. 

*                             *                             * 

Veronica ran a tissue across her lips and took a sip of white wine. 'The
lobster was excellent Thomas; you must compliment Mrs. Simms.' 

'Most certainly.' Llewellyn raised his goblet, regarded her
thoughtfully, 'You look particularly radiant this evening, my dear, how 
that shade of dress compliments your hair.' 

'Why thank you,' Veronica swilled her glass, placed it down. 'I've come
to a decision Thomas -' 

'Oh?' She watched his eyebrows rise, his complexion colour a little. 

'I would be more than happy to accept your kind offer of a room here.' 

'Why Veronica, that is wonderful news.' Llewellyn slapped his hand on
the table, then reached out and took her hands in his. 

'I take it my acceptance will not cause additional animosity?' 

'Not in the least, I am sure any complications can be resolved.' He
looked up on Hambleton's approach, 'Ah Hambleton, another bottle of 
wine to celebrate Miss Veronica's acceptance of a room here.' 

'Certainly sir, I'll uncork one now.' 

Veronica studied Hambleton upon his return, there was a twitch in his
cheek and his brow had furrowed, 'I shall try not to place any undue 
demands on you Mr. Hambleton, I'm sure we'll get along famously.' 

'Famously indeed,' Llewellyn answered for him, clapping his hands. 'Now
then, a glass for you too.' 

'No sir, thank you kindly, but I have a slight headache. If there is
nothing further?' 

'Veronica?' Llewellyn asked, then watching her shake her head he said,
'No thank you Hambleton, that will be all.' 

With a curt bow of his head, Hambleton left the dining room. 

Veronica sighed, curled her hand around the wine glass. 'I do hope
Thomas, that my presence here, although infrequent, will not be too 
much of a strain upon your resources -' 

'Of course not, Veronica.' 

'I thought that Hambleton appeared somewhat withdrawn -' 

Llewellyn smiled, though there seemed tension beneath. 'My dear
Veronica, Hambleton has confessed to being “under the weather,” as they 
say – it is nothing more than that.' 

'In which case, I have no worries.' 

'Indeed not,' Llewellyn leaned forward, 'and I trust your visits here
will not be too infrequent, you are the smiling face of this castle. 
Your presence here will be cherished. Veronica -' 

'Thomas, I feel the wine going to my head. A breath of fresh air will do
me good, following which I should like to retire. Would you mind if I 
bid you goodnight?' 

'Why no – goodnight my dear.' But Llewellyn's face registered surprise
and a certain disappointment as Veronica left his company. 

Upstairs, standing in the roof garden she heard the klaxon sound,
noticed how choppy the sea had become. She thought of the lifeboat, 
thought of Gibbings, of how he had saved her from the sea that night – 
and then minutes later she caught sight of him, running towards the 
mooring in the gathering dusk, she sighed, then raised a smile. 


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