Castle In The Clouds, Chapters 25 & 26

Chapter Twenty Five
'Goodbye, Thomas, safe journey -' Veronica placed a kiss on Llewellyn's cheek, avoiding his lips while Llewellyn, visibly trembling, clutched her hands. 'Take care my precious and keep safe – Dawson will provide for your welfare.'
'Thomas, I have told you – nobody provides for my welfare -' but Veronica's words were lost on the high wind as Llewellyn and Dawson descended the slope towards the pony and trap waiting at the bottom. She watched Dawson assist Llewellyn into the trap and as he waved enthusiastically, she caught the butler's cold, hard stare.
'Dawson will provide for your welfare,' the implications of that remark were unmistakable, even her composure had been breached recently and now, as the wind lashed hair across her face with such force it stung and as it blew so hard she struggled to keep her balance, she contemplated her days, her nights in the castle under the auspices of this belligerent man. It was for Gibbings that she stayed to try to see her objective through, though now she felt her determination waver.
She stood at the castle entrance, waited until the trap joined the main track and then stepped inside. The hall, vast in its comparison with the smaller rooms that characterised the building, now exuded an air of intimidation. It had swept in with Dawson's arrival and solidified the previous evening when Llewellyn's unstable nature had finally become apparent to her, sending alarm bells tolling loudly within.
Truthfully Veronica had never known fear; not even the shipwreck had caused the trepidation that had manifested itself in her being, spreading like a germ, embedding itself in the fabric of the castle so that it enveloped her whole existence. She'd been completely immersed in her own confidence, unprepared for the effects of developments such as these. But the compulsion to take flight to the mainland was something she would fight stubbornly against.
She was proceeding through the castle, taking the stone steps to the first floor landing,
entirely preoccupied with her own malaise, when Dorothea emerged from her room, the hem of her corseted pink dress swirling like a snake around her ankles as she stopped abruptly, appearing to block her path.
Veronica's first inclination was to square her shoulders, drive her strong body straight through Dorothea, sweeping her aside, such was her irritation.
But Dorothea's appearance became unusually placid, her dark eyes lacked their usual malevolence, and even her voice lacked acidity when she spoke. She seemed to sense Veronica's intentions, raising her hand, 'No Veronica stop, I need to speak with you; inside my room if you please. Do not charge me aside, I implore you.'
Veronica swung to her right, curtailing her momentum, drawing alongside Dorothea, opposite her door. 'What have you got to say that is worth listening to – do not try my patience, I am warning you -'
Dorothea stretched an arm. 'Please Veronica, step through – I promise I will not hit you from behind.'
Veronica sighed, brushed past Dorothea – 'You would be foolish even to try.'
'As I have found out at my own expense – please, take a chair.'
Veronica took a seat in a finely crafted, high - backed Queen Anne chair, her eyes fixed on Dorothea as she sat at her desk, turning her chair to face her.
'You may think I'm many things, Veronica – a many horned beast perhaps – you might think I'm mad – yes I can tell by your eyes that you do – but I can tell you this, my brother far exceeds me in that respect – and though he has endeavoured to conceal his ugly side from you, I surmise by your fatigued appearance that you have finally deduced as much.'
The lids dropped over Dorothea's hawkish eyes momentarily. 'You finally realise the danger here – what you have involved yourself in – and let me guess – on account of Gibbings, I suppose?'
Veronica bit her lip, crossed her arms, she felt exposed to everyone, including Dorothea.
'He saved my life.'
Dorothea smiled thinly. 'I'd vouch you could have saved your own.'
'He didn't know that.'
'But now you find yourself facing the ultimate peril?'
Veronica shrugged, 'Perhaps.'
'Ah, you concede at least that much – go to Gibbings Veronica, you have perhaps an hour before Dawson returns. I know of this man, make no mistake, he does not have our culture, he does not possess Hambleton's geniality, he is hard-boiled and dangerous which is precisely why my brother employed him and make no mistake that he will adhere to the instruction of my brother and he will impose a strict regime; can I make myself any clearer?'
Veronica felt the shudder that rocked her body in every nerve. 'I shall seek out Gibbings Dorothea, but are you not also in peril? You dismissed your brother's offer outright.'
Now Dorothea's eyes developed a dark sheen, just a suggestion of her usual malevolence. 'But for you it might never have happened. You brought forth this infernal lust within him, which has ignited the madness that always existed, not only in him, but in the depths of our family.'
Dorothea removed her hands from the arms of her chair, leaned forward and placed them on her thighs. 'Now Veronica you have become part of it. Gibbings is your escape.' She hefted her arm wildly, not in Veronica's direction, rather in the direction of Gibbings' cottage. 'And when Dawson returns, what then? That will be the real test of your character, will it not? I say no more.'

Chapter Twenty Six
Gibbings wasn't in the garden, and with conditions the way they were Veronica wasn't surprised. She glanced around but the driving rain obscured her view.
'Veronica -' she heard the shout hurry across on the wind and then through the grey veil of rain saw Gibbings hurrying towards her wearing his dark, hooded coat. 'Veronica I've been watching, waiting,' he panted as rain lashed his face. 'I need to talk to you.'
'At last -' Veronica wiped the rain from her eyes.
'Not here,' he said grabbing her arm. 'I can barely hear myself speak - my cottage -'
'Then we need to hurry – you have taken long enough; I take it you are now ready to speak about your problems?'
'I am.' Gibbings led her to his door, ushered her through, he watched the rainwater tumble from her hair. 'I'll get you a towel.'
Veronica shook her head fiercely, 'You will do no such thing; you will speak now of what troubles you.'
'You should take your coat off while I speak, you're wet through.'
'Yes and I will still be wet through when I leave, now go on,' she gestured.
Gibbings shrugged, gathered breath. 'I should explain I have relatives in Inverness, though I come from the south. I met a northern woman, a schoolteacher, fell in love and married her. Not long after Alice gave birth to a baby, Alexandra.'
Gibbings clasped his hands to his forehead, his eyes seemingly searching the ground before he raised them to meet hers. 'Anyway, we were on a steamer bound for Inverness, the three of us, when in high seas she struck rocks and it seemed to me that in seconds the bow plunged – we were forced overboard, I managed to get little Alexandra into a lifeboat but I swam round for Alice and she'd gone – gone beneath the waves.
'Last I ever saw of her.' He shook his head slowly, 'She didn't panic you know, she'd been so calm - in a way that was the worst thing – she didn't deserve to -' Gibbings eyes were misty as he looked at her, his words slow and sadly reflective – 'that's what started me with the lifeboat crew – I wanted to help others -'
'I'm sorry – I'm so very sorry.' Veronica stepped closer, biting her lip. 'And your daughter? What of her now?'
'My wife had a sum of money by inheritance; it was her wish that Alexandra be educated at boarding school – for her to have a bright future. That sum has been whittled away by boarding fees but the small amount I get here goes to her upkeep, though it gets harder to support her each school term. It's why this job is so important; I couldn't afford to get on the wrong side of Llewellyn, though now -'
Veronica snatched Gibbings' hand. 'Don't you see – I can help you. Oh John, why didn't you tell me before? I can pay for your daughter's education outright.'
Gibbings drew away, turned his back on her, forearm and forehead against the door frame. 'I don't want your money.'
'Why not?' Veronica demanded, 'Because I'm a woman?'
'It's not right.' Gibbings swung round, saliva between his white teeth. 'It doesn't happen.'
'John, it does happen, if you allow me to help, get rid of your dogmatic values, we can be away from here -'
'All right for you to say, but then what would I do?'
She shook his shoulders, 'John, help me, I am trying to help you. I could have turned and fled but I stayed to assist you. But now I need to pack my possessions, before the new butler Dawson returns – I have seen enough, heard enough to believe my very liberty is in jeopardy.
'Listen to me – Thomas – Llewellyn is not sane. Dorothea is not sane but he is worse, he has disguised his insanity whereas she displays hers openly.'
Veronica drew breath, let go of his shoulders and took a step away, her eyes never leaving his face. 'Time passes John, and all the while Dawson is returning with instructions to protect Llewellyn's possession.'
Gibbings squinted, gave a slight shake of his head, as if unwilling to accept the truth of her words. Finally he said, 'Is it that bad, can things be that urgent?'
'Of course it is John, ' Veronica shouted as the rafters creaked with the strength of the wind, 'have you not the least idea?'
'Aye Hambleton has told me – and Dorothea, but I never thought -' Gibbings broke off, swung and slammed his fist against the wall. 'Very well Veronica, you have stayed to help me – put yourself at risk. Hurry back to the castle, pack your possessions while I pack mine.'
'Wait for me by the garden gate,' she said heaving open the door. 'We will not take the main track out, we will cut across the island – if Dawson returns and spots us – I do not trust him.'
'Hurry, Veronica.' The intensity in Gibbings' eyes was such that she met them for several seconds before a quick nod of her soaked red head saw her turn and set off at speed for the castle.
She was midway up the slope when she saw Dawson approaching the castle, flogging the pony in a way Hambleton would never have done and with his return her heart sank to despair. In theory he could not detain her against her will, and yet in reality she knew he would.
"Leave without your belongings," a small voice inside urged, but a deeper, more powerful one ordered, "do not antagonise this dangerous man who acts for an insane one; stay calm, out-think him and bide your time."
Veronica yearned to be free of the castle, wanted to join Gibbings and flee to the mainland but the opportunity had passed; in truth, there had never been enough time.
And Dawson, tethering the pony, had already spotted her; she felt his unfeeling eyes following her to the castle entrance.

* *

'You were a fool to return Veronica -' feeling the chill follow her into the hall, Veronica started at the sound of Dorothea's voice, and turning, found her reclining on the green chaise-longue inside its entrance.
'I have my possessions to pack,' Veronica retorted, head held high.
'You think he will let you leave now?' Dorothea's derision stopped her in her tracks, 'Dawson's instructions will be to contain you here pending my brother's return.'
'He cannot detain me,' Veronica uttered without conviction.
'You are a strong, determined woman,' Dorothea said grudgingly, getting to her feet, 'and for that I respect you - but you will not easily force your way past this man-'
Dorothea dropped the lids of her eyes, 'not without distraction -'
'What do you mean by that?'
'You would do better to dry yourself off than to ponder upon that now. Dawson approaches up the slope; I can hear his heavy steps.' Dorothea ushered Veronica away. 'Dawson will pose problems only if you provide him with any and he will already have deduced your purpose in being out in such foul weather. It is better to avoid him as I intend to - as much as possible. Be ready for my call.'
Veronica looked back uncertainly before leading the way out of the hall, making her way to a room which now seemed more akin to a prison.
She towelled herself dry, and then thought of Gibbings - waiting for her by the garden gate no doubt, and in wild conditions.
She wondered how long he would wait, wondered what he would do now - and then pondered upon Dorothea's mystifying remark. Could she really expect any assistance from Dorothea?
Alone in her room Veronica sighed, and heard heavy footsteps along the passageway.