Castle In The Clouds, Chapters Seventeen and Eighteen (standard:drama, 5330 words) [9/21] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Nov 20 2009	Views/Reads: 2644/1914	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A butler departs and Llewellyn envisages a wedding in the latest two chapters of my drama.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

brother's foolish indulgence of this – this musician. I suspect you 
know Mr. Llewellyn has provided her with a permanent room here?' 

Hambleton ran a finger beneath his nose. 'Not officially Madam, I
overheard them speaking.' 

'Absolute lunacy.' Dorothea bellowed smoke towards the ceiling, - 'But
there is still something we – you can do to rescue the situation.' 

'I fail to see what that can be Madam -' 

'You are displeased with this situation and do not deny it.' Looking
directly into Hambleton's eyes she added, 'You can offer to resign.' 

Hambleton's breath caught in his throat, he winced. 'Madam, I simply
couldn't do that.' 

'Couldn't you Hambleton, couldn't you really?' Dorothea held her
cigarette holder away from her mouth, stared at him with unblinking 
eyes. 'You are his right-hand man, Hambleton, someone he could not 
afford – would not be expecting to lose. Once he appreciates how great 
your concern is – that it has come to this, he will finally see sense.' 


Hambleton took a deep breath, shook his head slowly. 'If I tender my
resignation madam, and Mr. Llewellyn accepts, I will have lost both my 
livelihood and a cherished position here.' 

'He will not accept and he will see sense.' 

'I very much doubt that any cause of action will deter Mr. Llewellyn in
terms of Miss Veronica.' 

'Do not dismiss the issue out of hand, Hambleton.' Dorothea twiddled the
holder between her fingers, then drew on the cigarette, expelling a 
ring of smoke towards the window. 'Think about it Hambleton. It is a 
means to an end.' 

*                               *                              * 

Dorothea's words seemed to buzz around Hambleton's head like an angry
bluebottle that wouldn't go away. For all her deviousness she had a 
point which tugged at his conscience. Thomas Llewellyn had been a 
caring employer and Veronica Day, whether knowingly or by chance had 
seemed to place a blindfold over his rationality. But using his 
resignation as blackmail to induce a change of direction was against 
his principles, and yet, his misgivings concerning Veronica Day's 
presence demanded that he at least gave it thought. 

And thought, whether logical or not, won the day. Llewellyn's habitual
early morning call for tea in his room was met with apprehension and 
tension as Hambleton duly obliged. 

Llewellyn had his back to the door, gazing out at the wide panorama of
sky and shoreline that the view from his room afforded. 'Ah, 
Hambleton,' he said over his shoulder, 'as punctual as ever, fine 
morning is it not? After the storms of last night – Miss Veronica's 
last day for a while should at least be pleasant.' 

Hambleton sombrely placed the silver tray on the table, running his
fingers across his upper lip. 'If I might have a word, sir.' 

Llewellyn raised his brows. 'Why certainly Hambleton, you seem a trifle
harassed, is something the matter, is -' 

'Forgive me for interrupting sir.' Hambleton hung his head. ‘But I must
say my piece and then tender my resignation.' 

Llewellyn squinted in a fleeting gesture of disbelief. 'Would you kindly
explain yourself, resignation?' 

Hambleton sighed. 'Sir, for a while now I have harboured reservations
concerning the situation in this castle, it has come to the point 
whereupon I feel I can no longer be of service here.' 

'What nonsense are you speaking? 

Hambleton felt fluid solidify in his throat. 'I have previously spoken
of my reservations sir; I have considered the matter comprehensively 
and feel I have no choice -' 

'Hambleton, you have long been a pillar of support to me,' Llewellyn
said, tugging at the lapels of his dressing gown, 'this is the work of 
my sister – I urge you to reconsider -' 

'No, with all due respect you are making a mistake by inviting the young
lady to become part of this establishment; I do not indulge as a rule 
in the behaviour of Miss Llewellyn, however on this occasion I feel she 
is right. My position here is compromised to the extent that I must 
offer my resignation.' 

Llewellyn shook his head, let out a heavy sigh. 'You would terminate an
association of more than a decade on account of Miss Veronica's 
association here?' 

'She does not have your interests at heart, sir -' 

'Damn you Hambleton.' Llewellyn flapped his hand wildly. 'You have no
right to assume such a thing – Miss Veronica is a fine, upstanding 
woman and on no account will I have her good intentions slandered.' He 
poured his tea, the cup rattling in its saucer, 'Nonetheless, you will 
be sorely missed. I shall see that you are supplied with first class 
references. You will have the courtesy to continue service until I 
appoint a replacement?' 

'Yes sir.' Hambleton swallowed heavily, his – their gamble had fallen
flat. Had he succumbed to Dorothea's influence or were his doubts 
genuine? He was no longer certain but it made no difference now, he 
faced a situation that before the week had commenced, he wouldn't have 
considered possible. 

*                             * 

Veronica Day sat cross legged on a grassy mound some distance from the
castle, her long green dress tucked around her thighs; she was watching 
and listening to the waves lap ashore. She was contemplating an 
imminent return to the Capital, where she would perform a series of 
concerts. She no longer relished the prospect of playing before crowded 
venues, indeed, if she ever had at all. Veronica felt at home with the 
environment she was in now, though the atmosphere within the castle was 
turning distinctly chilly. But there was fascination and purpose here 
for her, when all said and done - 

Footsteps on pebbles suddenly alerting her to the fact that she wasn't
alone, Veronica jerked her head round to find John Gibbings climbing 
the mound. 

'Veronica -' 

'Well, this is a surprise, it is normally I who seek you out -' she
patted the ground beside her, 'hardly luxury seating I'm afraid.' 

'I'm not used to luxury,' he said scornfully, 'unlike you.' 

Veronica looked out to sea, returning her eyes to him slowly. 'Your
opinion of me leaves something to be desired. I am uncomfortable with 
luxury, that's a paradox, is it not? In time John, perhaps you'll 
realise as much.' 

'There isn't time, you'll be leaving tomorrow and you won't be coming
back.' 

'Won't I?' Veronica smiled, turned her head to the wind, lifted her face
and let it rustle through her hair. 'Now I wonder where you heard that 
– no, don't tell me I can guess.' 

'Well it's true, isn't it?' 

Veronica placed her elbows on knees, fists beneath her chin and gazed
out to sea. 'Have you ever wondered John, what lies beyond the 
horizon?' 

When there was no answer she looked at him, saw his eyes flash, his lips
part, revealing white teeth. 'You're mocking me – do you get some kind 
of kick out of it?' He was edgy, turning to go. 

'John stay, - come, sit down. If I were not returning I would have
sought you out and told you so. The dark witch is incorrect, but you 
are not worried about her prying eyes?' 

'If you mock, then she torments,' he snapped angrily, rifling a hand
through his black, curly hair. 'I have had enough of her ways; she is 
pushing me to the limit -' 

'Self control John.' Veronica clamped her hand on his wrist, tightened
it. 'For just a while longer, trust me.' 

Some of the anger went from his eyes; he went to speak then buttoned his
lips. 'That's better,' she said 'thought is better that impulsive 
action.' 

'You have firm hands.' 

'You sound surprised at that, I suspect your perception of me is totally
inaccurate. Let us hope that time will change it, and that in time you 
will open up to me, and tell me what your problems really are.' She saw 
him shuffle uncomfortably, controlled an urge to push him further as 
they sat for a while in silence, listening to the waves lap ashore. 

Gibbings got to his feet at length, brushed the cheeks of his trousers.
'I must be going; I've work to do -' 

'So soon?' Veronica reached up, tapping his hand lightly. 'Answer me one
question -' 

Gibbings screwed his nose, 'What?' 

'Oh John, really – your face loses some of its attraction when you do
that.' She saw him blush, smiled faintly then added, 'Why did you seek 
me out today. You didn't come across me by chance, did you?' 

She saw that look of resentment conceal his embarrassment again and then
said, 'It does not matter, John, you don't have to -' 

'I was afraid you weren't coming back,' he blurted. 'I saw you leaving
the castle and followed. I wanted to know -' 

'Is it that important?' 

But Veronica's question was so quiet that it might have been engulfed by
the waves as he strode away without answering. 

She watched him go and then cupping a hand beneath her chin, she stared
out to sea. 

*                           * 

Dorothea reached out, grabbed Hambleton's hand as he passed her room,
pulling him inside. She could tell by his forlorn expression that the 
gamble had failed. 

'Well?' 

Hambleton inhaled, meeting her eyes only briefly. 'It is as I feared.
Mr. Llewellyn cannot be pressured into a change of direction; therefore 
I have been forced to tender my resignation.' 

'Curse my stupid brother and that scheming woman.' Dorothea turned her
back on Hambleton, arms crossed, fingers tapping rapidly on elbows. 
'You were not forceful enough, Hambleton, did you abandon your position 
so readily?' 

'I fear no amount of force would prove sufficient in this instance,'
Hambleton replied gravely. 'With due respect you have succeeded to no 
greater effect than I.' 

Dorothea waved him away indignantly, kicking the door shut before
lighting a cigarette and pouring a double whisky. The double measures 
she'd drunk at breakfast had blurred her mind, and a solution to the 
problem of Veronica Day seemed far from hand. With her anger breaking 
new boundaries she marched into the annex, dragged the chair from under 
her desk and flung herself down on it, whisky in one hand and cigarette 
in the other. 

Two double measures of drink later her temper broke completely. Charging
out of her rooms, she rampaged along the corridor, flinging open 
Veronica's door with such force it rebounded against the wall of her 
room and slammed shut. 

Veronica wasn't there but the vibration echoed around the castle walls,
drawing angry shouts from Llewellyn as he came running up the stairs. 
'My God, woman, what has got into you – have you taken entire leave of 
your senses?' 

'Can't you see?' She turned on him, veins in her neck taut against her
skin, voice hoarse from the strain on her cords, 'It's that fancy 
trollop you've invited into this castle that's blinding you from 
reason. Get her out of here before I do it myself.' 

'Oh -'. She recoiled, her hand clawing her right cheek, where Llewellyn
had struck it with his hand – 'You are drunk,' he said savagely, 
perspiration glistening his forehead. 'That's the real problem here. 
You need sobering up.' 

Dorothea, her face twisting in fury swung a hand, but Llewellyn caught
both wrists, hurling her in a circle that was broken only as her back 
struck the wall. It knocked the breath from her and she doubled up, 
coughing violently. 

But Llewellyn wasn't finished. Pulling her roughly by the arm he dragged
Dorothea through to her room, flinging her down on the four-poster bed. 
He stood over her pointing breathlessly, 'The only saving grace for you 
– is that Veronica wasn't here to witness such abominable drunken 
behaviour – God help you if she had been.' 

Dorothea raised her head, her body swelling and sinking through her dark
robes. 'To hell with you,' she coughed, before eyes wide with horror 
she saw and felt Llewellyn's hand deliver a stinging blow, followed by 
another. 

Hambleton had heard the screams; he came hurrying along the hallway at
the moment Llewellyn slammed Dorothea's door shut. 

'It's alright,' Llewellyn panted, palm of his hand raised. 'The
excitement is over; my sister has been enticed into a little rest.' 

'Sir, I heard blows, and then screams – are you certain -' 

'It is nothing for you to worry about,' Llewellyn persisted, composing
himself. 'My sister simply suffered a bout of hysterics, the matter is 
disposed of now.' 

Nothing to worry about. Hambleton returned to his downstairs room,
Llewellyn's reassurance repeating continually in his mind. 

What he'd heard amidst the screams was brutal slapping of hand on skin.
He was appalled that whatever provocation his respected employer had 
undergone, he was able to effect such savage retribution on his only 
sister. Surely, even Dorothea didn't deserve that. 

But the incident had provided Hambleton with food for thought. Because a
short while ago he'd tendered his resignation with deep regrets; now 
he'd knowledge of another side of Thomas Llewellyn. One that chilled 
him to the core. 

*                                *                                * 

'Why Veronica my dear, I was becoming concerned for your whereabouts –
you appear to have been gone for much of the day.' 

Veronica met Llewellyn's enquiring gaze with apparent unconcern. 'Since
this is my penultimate day here, I thought to explore as much of this 
wonderful island as I could – I trust I have not aggrieved you?' 

'Of course not, Veronica dear.' Llewellyn tweaked his moustache, then
clasped his hands tightly together. 'It is purely that I had envisaged 
more of your company, on this, your last full day here.' 

Veronica touched him lightly on the arm. 'But we shall enjoy each
other's company at dinner, Thomas, and then shortly, very shortly, I 
shall return.' 

Llewellyn felt warmth rekindled in his veins. 'Might I ask how soon that
will be?' 

Veronica gave a sideways smile, not quite meeting his eyes. 'Well that
depends on my itinerary – whether any additional concerts have been 
added – of which on account of my stay here I am not aware.' 

'I see,' Llewellyn said, not completely satisfied. 'Ah, Hambleton, I
have been meaning to speak with you.' He led the butler out into the 
entrance hall, saying quietly, 'I shall attend personally to my 
sister's requirements this evening; you understand I am concerned for 
her current state of mind -' 

'Sir -' 

Llewellyn met Hambleton's grim face with a prolonged stare, then
proceeded back to the drawing room where Veronica sat. 'Hambleton will 
serve our dinner shortly my dear,' he paused, 'Veronica – I wonder, 
since this will be our last evening together for a while, whether I 
might ask a favour of you?' 

'Which is?' 

'That you perform for me this evening, a personal rendition in the
gallery would put a splendid cap on my memories of your stay here -' 

'Since you have been such a perfect host I fail to see how I can
refuse.' 

Llewellyn clutched Veronica's arm tightly. 'Please do not regard me as a
host, Veronica, but as a friend – a very close friend.' 

*                             *                             * 

Veronica gave a personal rendition that evening. Her violin, sometimes
melancholy, sometimes vibrant, other times sweet, elevated Llewellyn to 
unprecedented levels of rapture. And above it all, her beautiful form, 
lovely strong boned face, crowned by her fanned red hair became a 
vision of excellence, even when he closed his eyes. 

He applauded until his palms stung and then reluctantly he bade her
goodnight, conceding that she had a long journey to undertake the 
following day and needed a well-earned rest. 

*                                  *                             * 

On the morning of her departure Veronica awoke, expecting and prepared
for a battle of words with Dorothea, but of her there was no sign; 
surprised and somewhat disappointed at missing out on a battle of wits 
Veronica shrugged it off, leaving the castle driven by Llewellyn in his 
trap, and in possession of a letter slipped into her hand by Hambleton 
in the entrance hall. 

She slipped the unopened envelope into her pocket, believing it to be an
attempt to dissuade her from returning, Hambleton hardly being an 
advocate of her presence there. 

As the pony trotted onto the road leading through the village she caught
sight of a slim, lithe figure standing on the same grassy mound he'd 
occupied with her the day before, one hand raised in a wave. 

She couldn't help but smile back, returning his wave. Llewellyn followed
her eye, but Gibbings had slipped down the other side of the mound, 
heading back towards the garden. 

As their journey to Berwick station progressed, Llewellyn heaped praise
upon her, ranging from her musical qualities to her looks. But his was 
a voice in the background – for her thoughts were with Gibbings – her 
thoughts and worries – worries about how he would react in her absence 
to Dorothea's provocation. 

They persisted long after her farewell to Llewellyn, sealed by both with
a kiss on the cheek, and words from him that she couldn't recall – 
persisted in fact until well into her train journey, when she 
remembered the letter from Hambleton. It read: 

My dear Miss Veronica, 

You will know of course that I am not wholly in favour of your prolonged
presence here at the Castle, but in explaining why, I shall endeavour 
to be honest. 

Put simply, my belief is that Mr. Llewellyn has developed intense
feelings for you that I do not believe you hold for him, which can only 
lead, I feel, to severe trauma for an employer I respect and admire. 

However my reason for writing to you derives from an event which
occurred yesterday. A severe incident which revealed an aspect of Mr. 
Llewellyn's character that hitherto I had no knowledge of. 

I cannot go into great detail except to say that at times of great
pressure I now believe that Mr. Llewellyn is capable of developing a 
violent disposition. 

I stress this only to warn you, that should your feelings not match his,
which in my opinion amounts to an obsession, then you may be in risk of 
physical harm. 

This letter, I hasten to assure you, is written purely out of concern
for your welfare. 

Sincerely, 

Alfred Hambleton 

Veronica looked out over the ever-changing countryside, folded the
letter carefully, slipping it into her pocket. 

Whether or not Thomas had an obsession for her, this wasn't a brazen
attempt by an interfering butler to block her return. Hambleton's 
letter had been written out of genuine concern, of that she had no 
doubt. Something had happened during her absence the previous day and 
it would explain the non-appearance of Dorothea. She'd intervened 
previously to prevent a clash between Thomas and his sister, but this 
time she'd been absent and God only knew what had happened. 

Veronica took a deep breath, let it out gently. John Gibbings, Thomas
Llewellyn, Dorothea, perhaps Hambleton also, all such perplexing, in 
some ways vulnerable people – and she drawn in amongst them on account 
of a shipwreck – and now committed to being so. 

Hambleton had warned of danger, she'd like to think that Thomas didn't
present one, but in any case she wasn't frightened or deterred. 

She had a cause to fight for. 

Chapter Eighteen 

'And that gentlemen, seals it -' 

Sitting in the lounge of his Berkeley Square private members club,
entertaining his two special guests, Byron Rothman and Edward Reynolds, 
Llewellyn slapped the arm of his favourite red leather chair, delighted 
to have completed the deal that would free him of Dorothea's presence 
at the castle. The one hundred thousand pounds he'd raised from them in 
exchange for a ten per cent increase in dividends on their investments 
was more than enough to pay her off. With things as they were, he 
failed to see how she could refuse. 

His over-riding desire was to return to a castle, along with Veronica,
which was free of Dorothea's influence. Though now so elated was he 
with the outcome that an idea sprung to mind and developed with the 
swiftness of blood through veins. 'Gentlemen, in return for your 
generosity, I wish to bestow upon you an invitation to join me in a 
visit to my castle when I next return there – be it for the duration of 
a weekend – there you will meet my delightful Veronica – Veronica Day 
no less.' He leaned forward, seeing the surprise register on their 
faces, 'Yes, the Veronica Day.' 

'You are a quiet one, Llewellyn.' The ginger haired, boyish looking
Rothman cast a glance at the bemused Reynolds alongside and smiled, 'so 
she is your -' 

'Not exactly-' Llewellyn cut in, anticipating Rothman's remark, then
looking down and twiddling his thumbs, 'though I must say the matter 
has crossed my mind -' then switching back to his invitation, 'I extend 
the invitation of course, to your good lady wives.' 

Rothman stretched out in his chair, a cigarette protruding from the
forefingers of his right hand. 'You forget Llewellyn,' he said with a 
coy smile, 'that I am unmarried-' 

Llewellyn coloured rapidly, fingered his neck. 'Forgive me Rothman, for
my ignorance.' 

'Pay it no heed.' Rothman's smile lingered as he enjoyed Llewellyn's
embarrassment. 

'I will travel alone,' Reynolds cut in, slapping his knee and rising,
'so that Rothman here doesn't feel out on a limb, so to speak. Mary 
will not mind at all.' He adjusted his spectacles, 'Now business is 
completed I'm afraid I must rush. Mary might excuse my absence for a 
weekend, but if I am but an hour late home, there is concern.' 

'I too must be going, party to attend, old chap.' Rothman stood, dusted
his dapper white suit. 

Then do not let me detain either of you,' Llewellyn said, rising to
shake the hands of both, before re-seating himself and contemplating a 
future, consisting of Veronica, himself, and a castle. 

*                            *                          * 

Hambleton hadn't decided on his future, he'd agreed to stay on at the
castle until Llewellyn's return with a newly appointed butler. In fact, 
he was reluctant to leave the island; it wasn't merely his affection 
for it but his growing unease that events surrounding the castle could 
easily get out of hand. The ingredients were there – Dorothea's 
scheming had backfired, not only at his own expense but hers also – at 
the hands of Llewellyn who had recently displayed a side to his 
character hitherto un-witnessed. 

And Veronica Day, beautiful but enigmatic in his eyes, was the central
element in this; Llewellyn's rising desire for her was as obvious as it 
was disturbing. She was as cool as he was hot, perhaps even 
calculating. From what he'd seen she wasn't capable of returning his 
feelings because hers led another path, towards John Gibbings, an 
arcane character himself. 

With Veronica's acceptance of a room at the castle, her obvious regard
for Gibbings, Dorothea's animosity and Llewellyn's propensity towards 
violence, a powder keg was developing, and the fuse had already been 
lit. 

Hambleton felt a peculiar allegiance and yet he couldn't determine to
which character that allegiance was anchored – perhaps it was his sense 
of duty, despite his soon to be terminated employment, that was the 
over-riding factor. 

Standing now at the castle entrance, his eyes cast below, he saw one of
those characters pass along the beach. It was John Gibbings, his 
expression as surly as ever. Their eyes met and Gibbings slowed before 
making an about turn and striding up the slope towards Hambleton. 

Hambleton acknowledged his approach, 'John, are you well?' 

'Aye – as can be expected.' 

Hambleton nodded. Here was a man of few words, he hadn't expected much
by way of reply. He wondered what had caused him to divert from his 
chosen track. 

'Miss Llewellyn, she all right?' Gibbings asked at length. 

Hambleton sighed, not wanting to divulge too much; he knew Gibbings
resented the attention Dorothea was bestowing on him, wondered why he'd 
asked. Since Llewellyn's assault Dorothea had been uncharacteristically 
quiet, remaining in her room for much of the time, it was something he 
thought that Gibbings would appreciate. 

He looked up; Gibbings' eyes were fixed on him, unblinking, unreadable.
'She has been unwell of late.' 

'What's up with her then?' 

'I would have thought you would appreciate the peace.' Hambleton gazed
out to sea, concealing his surprise at Gibbings' persistence; he 
weighed how much he was prepared to divulge, his concerns needed 
sharing, even if that someone was Gibbings. 

'You are aware I am leaving Gibbings?' 

'Not heard anything,' Gibbings shrugged. 'It don't answer my question.' 

'Perhaps it might do when I enlighten you.' Hambleton tilted his head
towards the heavens. 'All does not bode well here, and you, I fear, are 
a major player in events.' 

'Quit talking riddles,' Gibbings snapped. 'I only asked about Miss
Llewellyn.' 

'Miss Llewellyn received facial injuries inflicted I believe, by the
hand of her brother.' 

Drawing a finger across his lip, Hambleton continued, 'I also believe
there to be some association between Miss Veronica and yourself. Given 
Mr. Llewellyn's apparent obsession with her, I fear for her welfare if 
his feelings are not returned – and -' 

'There is no association.' Gibbings tensed, leaned towards Hambleton,
'I've gone out of my way to prevent -' 

'Nonetheless, at least on her part there is something – I have witnessed
-' 

'You have witnessed Veronica's concern for me, nothing more – I would do
nothing to put her at risk -' 

Hambleton drew back at the vehemence of Gibbings' reply. 'I merely
sought to -' 

'How bad are Miss Llewellyn's injuries?' 

'They are healing – almost healed, though I feel her ego has been
damaged.' 

Gibbings sniffed, drew in a breath, 'If that's the extent of it, then
it's not such a bad thing.' 

A facial nerve twitched, Hambleton was surprised to say the least, but
he wouldn't betray himself with a smile – this was no smiling matter. 

*                                *                               * 

Llewellyn had been reading a morning paper when the phone in his London
mews home rang. He lifted the receiver to be greeted by Veronica's 
voice and immediately adrenalin surged through his body like hot 
breath. 

Down the crackling line he heard her say, 'Thomas, I trust you are
well?' 

'Indeed my dear, and your good self?' 

'Fine Thomas. I am calling to advise you that my current series of
concerts is completed and I intend to return to the castle at the 
weekend – with your kind permission, of course.' 

'Of course, my dear, of course. I shall look forward to joining you;
will you be travelling by train?' 

'Yes, I arrive in Berwick on Friday, my train is scheduled to arrive at
four pm.' 

Llewellyn's grip on the phone tightened, 'I shall return tomorrow with
my new butler, Dawson, who will be replacing Hambleton. Good fellow 
Dawson, you'll like him -' 

'Thomas, please do not feel you need to make the effort on my account.'
Veronica's voice had dropped a touch, and Llewellyn felt a prick of 
resentment that she could even think he might not want to join her. 
'Not at all, my dear,' he answered hurriedly, 'by a strange quirk of 
fate I had already decided upon taking a long weekend break at the 
castle. I will be at Berwick to greet you.' 

'Thank you Thomas, most kind. I look forward to seeing you.' Llewellyn
heard the phone click, mopped his brow; two days' hence was short 
notice but in truth he'd covered every eventuality, such was his desire 
to be re-united with Veronica again. He'd been disappointed that he 
hadn't heard from her for two weeks, he'd provided her with his contact 
details prior to their departure, though due to the mobile nature of 
her profession, she hadn't been able to supply him with hers. 

Now he knew of her return however, he was wasting no time in hatching
his plans; he began by contacting his business associates, Rothman and 
Reynolds, apologising for the late nature of his invitation, but 
nonetheless procuring acceptance from both. They would join Veronica 
and himself on the Saturday morning, travelling by one of those 
new-fangled automobiles Rothman had recently purchased. 

At lunchtime he made the short journey to Regent Street, purchasing the
all-important ring he intended placing on Veronica's finger on Saturday 
evening during their meal. The moment couldn't come soon enough – and 
then the icing on the cake – the one hundred thousand pound offer to 
Dorothea, her monies returned in full, plus an additional twenty per 
cent dividend on  her investment – an invitation to leave that she 
wouldn't be able to refuse, leaving Veronica and himself free to enjoy 
the fineries of the castle. 

Llewellyn gently removed the glittering sapphire from its gold case,
examined it between forefinger and thumb. Pure perfection, suitable 
only for the love of his life. It seemed to him, right then, that his 
world couldn't get any better. 


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