Castle In The Clouds, Chapters 17&18

Chapter Seventeen
Llewellyn made up his mind the moment Veronica left the dining room to get it over with. Dorothea had to be told of her acceptance of a permanent room at the castle. Bracing himself for a stern encounter he stiffened, before marching upstairs to her quarters.
She wasn't in, or otherwise wasn't answering his knock, and with a sense of anti-climax he continued towards his own room.
'Were you wanting me, Thomas?' Dorothea's sharp voice penetrated the silence only his own footsteps intruded. 'Yes,' he said, coming to an abrupt halt. 'I've something to tell you-'
'Have you now.' She raised her head, fixing him with her dark eyes, 'Can it wait, I'm rather tired.'
Llewellyn took in her appearance, the shawl covering her dark dress was ruffled and her complexion was coloured. 'You do seem a trifle windswept, however I'd prefer it didn't wait, shall we go inside?'
'Oh very well.' Dorothea pushed open the door, walked through to the annexe she used as an office, slumped down on the couch, hand on head, 'But get straight to the point, I'm not in the best frame of mind.'
'Are you ever?' Llewellyn ignored Dorothea's glare, stared down at his interlocked fingers then back to her. 'I made Veronica the offer of a permanent room here -'
'You did what?'
'I think you heard what I said -' Llewellyn watched his sister's eyes reduce to slits, saw her look of disbelief.
'Oh my God.' She sprung off the couch, flounced to the window, arms thrust across her chest and then swung to face him. 'What inspired such an act of crass stupidity, your craving for her I -'
'Keep your voice down, Dorothea.'
'Don't dare address me in that tone.' Dorothea's breath whistled through her teeth. 'I cannot believe your obsession for her Thomas.' She turned her back on him, placed her hands on the window ledge, 'No doubt she's accepted.'
'As a matter of fact she has, - look try to see reason -'
'There is no reason in this, only pure lunacy.' Dorothea glowered at him over her shoulder. 'How often can I expect her infernal presence?'
'Whenever her time allows,' Llewellyn said, grinding his teeth.
'Do not think I will make her welcome, Thomas.'
'I do not expect you to become friends, that would only be wishful thinking. I only ask that you accommodate her.'
'Huh, do I have a choice?' Dorothea snarled. 'Time will see you regret the stupidity of this decision, now please leave my room.'
'With pleasure.' Llewellyn turned and strode out, passed through the gallery to his room, more determined than ever to effect a deal with his associates that would un-tie the hold Dorothea had on the castle. With Veronica's presence and Dorothea's absence, what a pleasant place it would become.
* *
Dorothea rose early, poured herself a whisky to calm her shattered nerves, lit a cigarette and rang the bell for Hambleton; there was still a chance that her brother could be persuaded out of his foolish fascination for Veronica Day.
'Hambleton come in, close the door,' she said pacing the floor in her dark robe. 'I've told you I have not finished with the matter of my 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.