Castle In The Clouds, Chapters Nineteen and Twenty (standard:drama, 3306 words) [10/21] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Jan 07 2010	Views/Reads: 2565/1844	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Veronica Day returns to the island, but Thomas Llewellyn is beginning to have his doubts... continuation of my drama set on a North Sea island.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

'A few days longer perhaps, I feel a longer break may do me good, if
that is acceptable to you?' 

'Why of course it is, my dear,' Llewellyn answered, his eyebrows
widening in surprise. 'I of  course have arranged to return, but my new 
butler Dawson will attend to your needs.' 

Veronica lowered her eyes, let out the slightest of sighs. 

*                           * 

Hambleton closed the door to the kitchen, acknowledging Mrs. Simms, and
then glanced at the square shouldered, thick set Dawson. 'Well that is 
about it as far as the castle goes – for the most part it is quite 
routine, particularly when Mr. Llewellyn is away -' 

'I will not be as permanent a fixture of the castle as you appear to
be,' Dawson said as though his throat were laced in sandpaper, then 
locking his unfriendly eyes on Hambleton, 'I am to accompany him 
wherever he requires me – a full time servant here seems unnecessary.' 

'Indeed, perhaps it is.' Hambleton straightened his tie. 'But when Mr.
Llewellyn undertook the purchase of the castle, he needed a permanent 
presence -' Hambleton had been about to continue, to mention that 
Llewellyn doubted Dorothea enough to have a trusted servant provide a 
counter-balance. He had indeed provided a similar service to that 
required of Dawson up until the time of purchase; but a look into his 
replacement's hard face troubled him, told him that his words would be 
wasted. With its broken nose and square chin there was a pugnacious 
look about the fellow, his features suggested not a trace of gentility; 
his general presence added fuel to Hambleton's suspicions that here was 
a man employed to follow his master's every instruction without 
question or thought, and if so this was a worrying change in his former 
employer's stance – an indication of Llewellyn's changing personality 
perhaps? 

Hambleton wondered briefly from where Llewellyn had secured his
services, this fellow had the look of a pugilist about him, and a voice 
to match. Hambleton preferred not to dwell on the subject, but still it 
was an effort to drag his thoughts away, until an unlikely source came 
to his aid. 

Dorothea came marching into the hall, head high, directly into their
path, cigarette holder in hand, with her ego seemingly restored. 'Ah 
Hambleton,' she glanced at Dawson then dismissively back to the former 
butler, 'it is good to know that you are still around.' 

'For a few moments, Madam, no more - my suitcases are packed and I
depart within the hour.' He held a hand out towards his replacement, 
'Dawson here will address your needs.' 

'I see.' Dorothea's voice was seemingly flat with disappointment, and
without so much as a glance at Dawson, she asked, 'And to where do you 
go?' 

'I have secured lodgings on the island, Madam, for the time being.'
Looking firmly into Dawson's eyes he added, 'I have no great wish to 
return swiftly from whence I came. Now if you would excuse me, Madam, I 
must be leaving. My best wishes to you, and indeed to you, Dawson.' 

With that, Hambleton made for his room, and his possessions. Without a
word Dorothea followed him along the corridor, leaving Dawson alone in 
the hall, his eyes fixed on them both. 

Chapter Twenty 

'Your baggage madam -' 

'I can manage thank you.' Veronica ran her eyes briefly over the large
man's granite-like face, taking in a big extended right hand which 
seemed unwilling to retract.'You are Mr. Dawson I assume.' 

'I am.' Dawson finally placed his arm by his side, his expression
deadpan. 

'I see, well thank you Mr. Dawson, but I require very little assistance
as you will no doubt learn.' 

'Madam.' Dawson managed a smile, or perhaps a scowl, Veronica couldn't
be certain, before marching back up the slope. 

'You were a trifle short, my dear, not like you at all,' Llewellyn said
edgily. 'Dawson is new to the post, after all.' 

Veronica lifted her case from the trap in a single, fluent motion. 'My
first impressions suggest him to be overbearing, if not somewhat 
menacing.' 

Llewellyn gave a lop-sided smile. 'As I say, he is a fine man – do not
let it disturb you.' 

'Oh he does not disturb me Thomas,' Veronica said, aware that Llewellyn
was struggling to match her stride up the slope.  'I merely wonder what 
possessed you to employ him.' She smiled, tapped him gently with her 
free hand, 'Come, I mean no malice towards him, providing of course we 
remain at separate ends of the castle -' she laughed at his expression, 
'Thomas, learn to know when I am joking -' 

'You really should have allowed Dawson to carry your suitcase,'
Llewellyn stressed upon reaching the castle entrance. 

'Do I look fatigued?' she paused, looking calmly into his eyes. 

'No, my dear, you do not.' Llewellyn tweaked his moustache. 'But such
behaviour is not ladylike.' 

Veronica met his eyes for several seconds. 'This lady, Thomas, does what
she likes.'  She watched his jaw tighten and when he didn't reply said, 
'I must freshen up, and then if you do not mind I wish to take a walk 
-' 

He angled his head, frowned, 'Alone?' 

'Only for a short while Thomas, I have concluded a harrowing set of
concerts and wish to unwind. I do so in my own company though I mean no 
disrespect to you. You will have my presence, should you require it, 
for the remainder of the day.' 

'Of course, I adore your company my dear, please do as you wish, and
then honour me with your company prior to dinner.' 

Veronica climbed the stairs to her room, placed her suitcase on the bed
and stared thoughtfully out to sea. 

*                                    * 

Dorothea heard the pony's hooves on the path below. Crossing to the
window she saw her brother was back, together with the woman he'd grown 
so stupidly fond of. She saw the loathsome new butler Dawson stick out 
a stubby hand, and then what looked like a rejection from the 
red-headed woman. The sound of her voice, so composed, jarred her 
nerves. The sound of his filled her with hate. 

'Go on my love-lorn brother, make a fool of yourself over that woman -'
she whispered, 'see if I wasn't right all along, and I shall be here to 
watch your poor heart suffer.' Dorothea laughed bitterly, slammed the 
window shut, and crossing to the table raised a scotch in her hand, 
swirled it and gulped. 

With the beating he'd given her, any influence had waned; any influence
she held in the castle had dwindled. Her advances towards Gibbings had 
fallen flat and facial bruising had combined with her vanity to 
dissuade her from pursuing him further. Now she had neither the 
authority nor the inclination to entice him. 

Her only consolation now, on this desolate island, was in watching her
brother's demise – she would sit back, relax and tolerate; enjoy the 
ending in the knowledge that it would come. 

*                                    *                                 *


Veronica skipped down the slope, felt the warm afternoon breeze rustle
through her hair and tilted her face towards the sun. Much as she loved 
the castle, she preferred to be out, rather than in, particularly on 
such a day as this. 

And it was only a small white lie she'd handed Thomas; she did need time
to herself, time in the open, prior to later formalities. What she 
hadn't told him was of her desire to see Gibbings, if only to ensure 
that he hadn't fallen foul of Dorothea's antics which had threatened to 
tumble out of control. She'd caught neither sight nor sound of the 
woman in the short time she'd been back, but that counted for little on 
this island. 

She was climbing the rocky mound at the castle's base to give herself a
better view of the gardens where he worked, when she saw him – she 
waved, caught his eye straight away and clambering down, made her way 
across to the garden gate where he stood, a slight smile lightening his 
frown. He came forward to greet her, brushing the sweat from his 
forehead with the back of his hand, 'How are you, John, a little hot 
and bothered? Has the dark witch been tormenting you? 

Gibbings shook his curly head. 'No, actually – I've hardly seen a thing
of her - since – Mr. Llewellyn -' 

'Yes, John, well at least that nasty business has produced one positive
element; I've been worried, I can tell you -' 

'Worrying again on my account,' Gibbings said, his frown deepening, 'I
don't understand -' 

'I am not easy to understand John; so do not try too hard – sometimes
things are better off left that way.' Veronica leaned back against the 
gate, brushed her long hair back from her ears and glanced at him from 
over her shoulder; then raising her brows she asked, 'Would you care to 
walk with me?' 

He looked reticent, then screwing his eyes as he glanced up at the
castle windows, 'I'm not sure I should – I should be working and I 
don't trust them up there. I can't afford to be losing my job -' he 
glanced down at his hands and Veronica followed the line of his eyes. 
'All this talk about you having grubby hands, they seem quite clean to 
me considering what you do.' 

He returned his gaze to her, 'There – there's something I need to ask
you -' 

'Well take a break, walk with me John.' Veronica levered herself from
the gate, 'And ask away.' 

'I can't be long, but I need to know,' Gibbings began, undoing the gate
latch and leading her into a field of long coarse grass, separated by a 
thin dirt track they could barely negotiate side by side. 

'He starts a question but does not finish it,' Veronica chided, waving
away tiny green insects that rose from the grass as they brushed it. 

'There you go again -' 

'John, just tell me what you want to know, plainly something is
bothering you -' Veronica stopped, thrust her hands on hips, turning 
sideways, 'or do I need to shake it out of you?' 

'I'd like to see you try.' 

Veronica slapped a hand to her mouth. 'Oh my word, there is some fight
in you.' 

Gibbings gave an exasperated smile, sighing before stiffening, 'I want
to know how you feel about Mr. Llewellyn.' 

'How I feel? Well that's a strange question, John -' 

'I mean are you and him going to -' Gibbings trailed off. 

'Oh I see.' Veronica crossed her arms, glanced down at the waves of
grass and bit her lip. She returned her attention to him only slowly. 
'I'm not sure I want to answer questions like that – particularly when 
you choose to keep your innermost secrets from me -' 

'They are not your concern.' 

'Everyone needs a shoulder, mine are broad – or haven't you noticed?' 

Gibbings hung his head, 'I have noticed; I have noticed many things
about you -' 

'Sounds intriguing.' 

'Listen Veronica,' he grabbed her hand in a tight grip, 'Mr. Llewellyn's
got a vicious streak, he seems alright on the surface, but I been 
speaking to Mr. Hambleton – he's worried you might come to harm – like 
Miss Llewellyn has, only worse?' 

'Can I have my hand back, please John?' Veronica slipped her hand from
his grasp, allowing a faint smile at his embarrassment, 'I can take 
care of myself, I assure you.' 

'But Miss Veronica, if you can't return his feelings you should leave
the island for your own safety.' 

'Veronica, John, just plain Veronica.' She looked sternly into his eyes,
'Only I cannot do that John, can I?' She turned and walked slowly back 
towards the castle, willing his barriers to break down. 

'I -' 

'Yes John?' she stopped, crooking her head towards him. 'Let me help
you, tell me what vexes you so.' 

He shook his head slowly, dark curls tumbling over his brow. 

Veronica sighed, nodded, resumed her walk, heading back to the castle,
'Then when you are ready, John Gibbings, come to me -' 

'How long will you stay?' 

Veronica heard the question, but no answer broke the afternoon air. 

*                               * 

Llewellyn stared out of the drawing room window, his heart suddenly
beating heavier against his chest walls. He sighed and turned upon 
hearing Dorothea's footsteps. 'Ah Dorothea, I have seen so little of 
you since my return, that I haven't been able to advise you that I have 
invited guests for the weekend. I would be grateful if you would keep 
your tantrums in check, at least for the duration of their visit.' 

Dorothea crossed to the window, her eyes sweeping the gardens below,
allowing herself a smile. 'Do not worry Thomas; I will be the portrait 
of civility, despite your manhandling of me.' 

Llewellyn's jaw tightened, a vein pulsated in his neck. 'You provoked me
beyond reason, your behaviour was intolerable.' 

'As was yours, Thomas.' She tapped his arm. 'Oh do look, here comes
Veronica, fresh from a cosy chat with Gibbings no doubt; my, and so 
soon after arriving back.' She looked Llewellyn slowly up and down, 
smirking at his obvious discomfort. 'And who are these guests might I 
ask? Is their significance such that they should encroach upon your 
valuable time with the woman?' 

Llewellyn clenched his fists, bellowed air from his lungs. 'I see your
sarcasm hasn't diminished in the slightest.' 

'I have good cause to scoff if you ask me.' 

Dorothea marched away, leaving him livid at her insolence. But he'd been
pre-occupied with the scene below and despite his irritation he 
returned his gaze to it, following Veronica until she disappeared from 
sight, heading in all likelihood for the slope, and the castle 
entrance. 

Needlessly adjusting his tweed jacket, Llewellyn paced through to the
hall, tensely awaiting her arrival, aware of rising adrenalin within 
and breathing deeply to combat it. The light tread of her steps echoed 
through the cavernous hall and a slender shadow spread along the floor 
as Veronica walked in. 

Llewellyn allowed her to progress several paces into the hall before
emerging from behind one of the stone pillars. Her path blocked, 
Veronica halted, placing a hand to her chest. 'Why, Thomas, you gave me 
such a fright -' 

'I apologise my dear, I intended no such thing – I was merely passing
through the hall when I heard your steps. How did you enjoy your walk? 
You certainly were not long -' 

'I feel it would have been inconsiderate of me to have stayed out
longer. You requested my presence Thomas and you shall have it.' 

'And how is our gardener, Gibbings?' Llewellyn motioned jerkily towards
the window. 

Veronica crossed her arms, shrugged and frowned. 'He fares well I
believe. Why do you ask? Thomas, you seem a little – flushed -' 

'Not at all my dear.' Llewellyn tweaked his moustache, and without
meeting her eyes, 'I merely ask, having observed you in the grounds. 
You appear to have become friends.' 

'Ah,' Veronica ran her tongue along her bottom teeth and then smiled. 'I
would hardly call it friendship. I came across him as I was passing the 
gardens; we caught each other's eyes. He asked after my welfare and I 
returned his interest.' 

'How civil of you, Veronica. Gibbings is indeed fortunate to have
someone so concerned.' Llewellyn, struggling to keep his voice level 
swallowed heavily, he wanted to go further but narrowly resisted. There 
had been something in their proximity, something in her bearing which 
caused him to reflect again on Hambleton's words – and on Dorothea's, 
damn her. These instances of their meeting might well be fleeting, but 
they were becoming many – how could Veronica deny there wasn't some 
form of friendship, however ridiculous it might seem. 

'Thomas, are you certain nothing is troubling you?' 

'No my dear.' Llewellyn wrenched himself out of his melancholy mood. 'I
feel a trifle warm; I need to change into something cooler. Will you 
join me for afternoon tea?' 

Veronica produced her delightful smile which so enthralled him. 'Of
course Thomas, I shall look forward to it. I need to refresh, please 
allow me a short while.' 

'Naturally.' 

Llewellyn watched Veronica climb the stone steps, full of poise and
elegance, her light green dress swirling around her calves. Such was 
his admiration that his doubts dissipated like mist in strong sunlight. 
What harm had there been in a little polite conversation, even if they 
were at opposite ends of the social spectrum? 

But it was more than a change of clothes that Llewellyn required as he
reached his room. He needed a long bath to relieve the tension that had 
unexpectedly surged within. 


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