Castle In The Clouds, Chapters 5 & 6

CHAPTER FIVE

Waves rippled gently below, reflecting on the gallery's lime coloured walls as Veronica Day played, the setting sun inflaming her red hair and shimmering on the bow she stroked so finely.
Sitting on a long oak bench with Dorothea at his side Llewellyn watched, enthralled, as Veronica recited Vivaldi, Beethoven and Tchaikovsky in what she explained was a romantic interpretation of violin solos. Llewellyn wasn't an expert in the world of music but he loved the fluency that caused her bow to glide over the strings and the resonance she created in the gallery's high interior was electrifying.
With Veronica playing to his right, and directly opposite through the windows, the sun a large mellow pumpkin sinking into the horizon, the castle he'd so recently purchased took on an atmosphere altogether different from anything he'd experienced. It was as if the castle and Veronica had combined to create a special magic.
'Absolutely beautiful,' Llewellyn exclaimed when she'd finished; this was followed by a noticeably reserved 'most impressive' from his sister. But Llewellyn hadn't been aware of any comment from Dorothea; in fact, only the arrival of Hambleton announcing dinner forced his eyes from the radiant Veronica.
'I must say Miss Day, your playing both astounded and moved me,' Llewellyn enthused over a salad dinner prepared by Mrs. Simms.
'Why thank you Mr. Llewellyn.' Veronica placed her fork down and took a sip of wine. 'You know your choice of violin was perfect, how on earth did you know which to get?'
Llewellyn lowered his knife and fork, ran a napkin over his lips, 'A man in my position has many useful contacts Miss Day, need I say more?'
'No indeed, it is enough for me to know you bought it, and once again I thank you.'
'Indeed you should Miss Day.' The heavily – jewelled Dorothea held a wine glass to her lips, downed the contents in one gulp. 'My brother is not always so charitable.'
Llewellyn coughed and glanced out at the garden, smarting, but unwilling to rise to her bait. 'Come, come, Dorothea, none of your mischief – ah,' he said, looking down at the gardens for a change of subject. 'Nine o’clock and our gardener is still working. Good chap that.'
'Pardon?' Veronica followed Llewellyn's eye, coming to rest on a slim, dark curly-haired figure busily watering the flower beds. She rose to her feet, the speed of her movement surprising Llewellyn. 'I do hope you'll excuse me but that young man down there is the one who pulled me from the sea. I really must go and thank him; I may not get another chance to do so.'
Llewellyn flapped a hand across his face, 'No, no, don't trouble yourself to do that, I'll have the butler fetch him up.'
Veronica smiled but shook her head. 'I think that would be inappropriate. His bravery demands that I should attend him. I cannot do him justice by having him come to me.'
Dorothea raised her eyebrows, glanced at Llewellyn who sighed. 'If you feel you ought to do so then please allow me to accompany you down the slope, it is rather hazardous. I need to erect some kind of stair-rail forthwith.'
But Veronica waved away his offer. 'No please, do not trouble yourself. I assure you I am quite agile for a woman; it will present no problems.'
Llewellyn nodded reluctantly. 'Then hurry back, your company is much appreciated here.'
His heart-rate increased as she left the room and he knew it wasn't caused by the digestion of food. He'd seen by the ease that she'd coped with the ascent that Veronica Day's abilities weren't restricted to the violin, but he hadn't wanted her out of his sight any longer than necessary.
'The lovely Miss Day has a very peculiar attitude Thomas.' Dorothea's acidic voice cut into his thoughts like a freshly sharpened blade. 'Gibbings is, after all, a servant, servants come to us.'
'To us, Dorothea perhaps,' Llewellyn looked into his sister's unblinking eyes, 'but it seems that the young lady does not conform to your philosophy. She has courage, I give her that.'
Dorothea shook her head, a mass of dark curls mushrooming about her face. 'Do not set your stall at her door, Thomas...'
'Dorothea,' Llewellyn said through clenched teeth, 'please do not talk in riddles. I have suffered enough of your antics these past few days to last a whole year.'
'Then perhaps you have deserved it,' Dorothea hissed, her face close, taunting him. 'You're besotted with that woman; I saw it from the first time you watched her come ashore. You think it purely by chance, a blissful accident that you encountered her outside the castle? That she was merely out for a stroll when fate took a hand and led her straight to you?'
'Dorothea!' Llewellyn slapped his hand on the table and felt pain shoot through his fingers. 'She was taking a walk following the effects of a trauma.'
'Poppycock, think again Thomas,' Dorothea shouted over him. She swung to the window, pointing to where Veronica approached an unsuspecting gardener. 'She was looking for Gibbings.'
* *
Veronica reached the gate of the walled garden, lifted the catch and slipped through. John |Gibbings had his back to her, watering plants with a large spouted can.
She shut the gate and saw him jump in alarm, clasping her hands to her cheeks. 'Oh my, I'm so sorry – I thought lifeboat people were supposed to have nerves of steel.'
'Oh Madam,' he straightened, 'you surprised me, I was just tending to Mr. Llewellyn's
plants.'
'I can see that, and don't call me Madam, I'm Veronica.' She dropped her head and then gazed directly into his eyes, 'The woman you saved from the sea?'
'Aye,' he put down the can and shuffled uneasily. 'You feeling better?'
'Feeling better?' she shrugged, 'a little. But I came to say thanks. If it hadn't been for you I wouldn't be standing here right now.'
She felt his pale blue eyes study her. 'Any of the others could have done what I did.'
'That's not the point, thank you John Gibbings.' She held out her hand, 'Well, go on, take it.'
'My hands Ma – Veronica.' He looked tentative, 'They're dirty like...'
'Well of course they're dirty, you've been working in the garden – I'm not afraid of a little dirt.'
'Strikes me you're not afraid of anything Madam – I mean Veronica – you were the coolest casualty I've ever seen and I been doing this for some years.' He finally took her hand loosely, 'Now you'll have to wash it – the Llewellyns are -'
'It's okay John, I'm sure there is a washroom...' she looked around the garden, 'this place is a credit to you, such an array of flowers and blooms, and all so tidy.'
Veronica breathed in the freshness of the evening, the scent of the flowers; saw the tumble of waves beyond as they broke for shore. 'Show me around your garden.'
Gibbings’ lips became tight and thin, 'I don't think I should be doing that.'
Veronica touched him on the shoulder, glanced up at the castle, then back at John. 'I want to take a little interest in the work of a man who saved my life, I'm sure nobody will mind.'
Gibbings shook his head; there was an earnest expression on his face as his eyes flicked briefly up towards the castle dining room. 'Madam – Veronica, I don't know much about violins, but I know you're famous – and I want to keep this job. Right now your place is up there – please go back – now.'
It felt like a slap in the face to Veronica, but she saw the concern in his eyes. Again she touched his shoulder, thought she saw the trace of a smile. 'You take care, John Gibbings.'
Veronica returned to the castle, sought out Hambleton who directed her to the washroom. When she returned to the dining room Llewellyn and Dorothea were in subdued mood, but it was Dorothea who eyed her coldly. She lofted her head, 'We saw you shake his hand, I for one am surprised you did that. His hands are always filthy – a disgusting lack of hygiene.'
'He is a gardener, Dorothea, is he not?' Veronica said curtly. 'What would you expect? He labours into the evening...'
'On my account and I am grateful,' Llewellyn cut in, irritated both by Dorothea's causticity and his prized guest's support of a servant.
'I will hear no more of this.' He raised his glass to Veronica, 'We will drink wine, and I will toast your health.'
'And I shall retire,' Dorothea said with a touch of bitterness, sweeping out before another word could be uttered.
'You must not mind my sister,' Llewellyn said, his voice hushed as Hambleton cleared the table. ' She is strongly opinionated.' He clasped his hands together, leaned forward. 'Miss Day – Veronica if I may call you that – I would be greatly honoured by your continued presence at the castle tonight. In anticipation, I have had Hambleton prepare a room for you.'
Veronica frowned, Llewellyn noticed just the faintest of lines on her skin. 'I feel I am not altogether welcome -'
'Oh but Veronica you are – my sister means well but she is headstrong – please do not let her unfortunate comments dissuade you.'
Veronica nodded. 'I have enjoyed your company Mr. Llewellyn, and so to save you the inconvenience of returning me to the village this evening, I shall accept.'
Llewellyn tweaked his moustache. 'Shall we retire to the drawing room then Veronica? I am eager to learn more about your career.'
'Thank you Mr. Llewellyn, I am indebted to you. But I am growing weary. I should like to retire myself if you are not inconvenienced.'
'No Veronica, I am not inconvenienced, and please call me Thomas.' He leaned forward, pressed her hand between his palms. 'I will drive you home tomorrow morning before I return to London. You too, I gather, will shortly be leaving. Veronica, in the short time I've known you, you have greatly enriched my life. You are welcome here at any time. Please say you will return as my guest.'
Veronica gave a slow smile and Llewellyn felt its warmth spread through his body. 'I have a busy schedule, but will do all I can to enable it.'
Llewellyn released her hand, 'Hambleton will show you to your room.'
But as he bid Veronica Day goodnight and watched his butler escort her to an upstairs room, Llewellyn felt a deep yearning and rising disappointment that she could not see fit to spend the remainder of the evening with him.
* *

Veronica lay in a comfortable four-poster bed listening to the sea breaking on the rocks below, so deeply in thought she couldn't sleep; she was thinking of John Gibbings, a man too wary of the castle's occupants to even take a short walk in the garden with her. Thomas Llewellyn seemed attentive, appreciative. Kind – surely he would pose no threat to John's employment. Only Dorothea seemed capable of doing that, her attitude towards him fell little short of open hostility, precisely why, she'd no idea. Her assertions that he was filthy were preposterous. But Dorothea wasn't the castle's mistress – Llewellyn called the tune – though he was returning to London in the morning.
Left to her own devices, could Dorothea be vindictive enough to sack John?
She had one more day on the island before her brother arrived and they were to leave for Edinburgh. John Gibbins had saved her life, she'd given him her thanks but that didn't seem enough.
But what could she do to help?

CHAPTER SIX

'I fear the weather's on the change.' Llewellyn glanced across at the gathering blanket of grey out to sea, 'Nonetheless, your visit has brightened our skies and will do so again when you return.'
Veronica said nothing, sitting tight-lipped in the trap as it left the castle grounds.
'You are quiet this morning, Veronica,' Llewellyn remarked with concern. 'I take it nothing has transpired to mar your stay?'
Veronica looked over her shoulder, they were beginning the descent onto the road to the village, but to the west the castle grounds were still visible.
'Thomas, would you mind stopping for a moment please.'
Llewellyn pulled the pony to a halt. 'What is it Veronica, what is the matter?'
'My apologies for delaying you,' Veronica said casually. 'I simply wanted one last look at your delightful grounds.'
'You should have asked earlier, I would have walked them with you.'
Veronica did not meet his eyes. 'You have a fine gardener do you not?'
'Indeed, we are privileged in that respect.'
'Then it would be a pity to lose him.'
Llewellyn shook his head, 'Lose him Veronica? I do not understand.'
'Your sister Dorothea has a very low opinion of him.'
'No, no, you misunderstand, as I explained Dorothea can be headstrong but she is a competent woman, she knows an asset when she sees one. Nonetheless, if it pleases you I will speak with her.'
Veronica exhaled, nodded, 'I do not seek to cause friction – only -'
'I know what drives you Veronica,' Llewellyn said quietly, leaning towards her.
'You do?'
'Of course: it is understandable concern. Gibbings was the man who saved your life, was he not?'
'He was.'
Llewellyn gathered up the reins and resumed the journey. 'My sister will make no rash decisions, I will ensure it. And you will honour us by returning to the island?'
Veronica smiled, 'I will.'
* *
Llewellyn sat in the castle's drawing room sipping tea; he cast a glance at the grandfather clock and rang for his butler.
'Ah Hambleton, I shall require you to transport me to Berwick station in fifteen minutes, my luggage is packed and ready if you would oblige me by loading it.'
'I'll attend to it sir.'
Llewellyn watched Hambleton stride out in his dignified manner and then turned his attention to Dorothea.
'Yes, what is it?' She asked, without looking up from her paper.
'I trust there will be no discord while I'm away.'
'Meaning what?'
'Meaning Gibbings. His gardening is exemplary, our grounds are a great asset and we cannot afford to lose him.'
Dorothea billowed smoke into the air. 'He is uncouth, undisciplined. He has the wild look
about him.'
'He was disciplined enough to pluck a woman from the sea -'
'Ah – I see brother.' Dorothea smiled triumphantly, 'Your violinist friend has wielded her influence. Did I not warn you against this approach?'
Llewellyn jumped to his feet, cocked a forefinger. 'I mean what I say Dorothea, do not dare to dismiss Gibbings.'
Dorothea narrowed her eyes, held his furious gaze. 'We shall see what we shall see – life is interesting, is it not?'
Llewellyn marched across to Dorothea and stood over her, placing his hands on the arms of the Regency chair, 'I will be back within two weeks, I expect no major alterations, remember that.'
Dorothea smirked and he stormed out red with rage. Would she defy him and in so doing cause him to let down Veronica? Even Dorothea, he thought, would not venture that far.
* *
Veronica strolled down from the abbey ruins to where the lifeboat was moored, arms crossed, hands on her shoulders for the morning was fresh.
There was a hint of blue breaking through the grey skies, a halo from the sun just beginning to appear. The shore was deserted, the red and black boat seemed neglected in its solitude but she knew the crew was just a klaxon call away.
She wondered how John Gibbings would fare, whether her words to Llewellyn would
have any effect. An appraisal of John told her he was not without intuition or intelligence. Work on the island must surely be hard to find but he clearly didn't want to leave it. With his black curly hair and slightly brooding face he had something of the gypsy in him. She wondered whether he was a native of the island or if not, what had brought him here.
'Veronica dear, you look lost without your violin; life without music is nothing, one
suspects.'
Dorothea's voice sliced through Veronica's thoughts, an unwelcome intrusion that
triggered resentment.
'Since you approached me from behind,' Veronica said slowly turning, 'how can you see what I portray?'
'I do not need to see your face to read your mind – you will be glad to leave this island, it is not for you.'
Veronica stared into Dorothea's cold eyes and saw not a conversation but a threat. 'On the contrary, I feel a connection with this island, I am quite certain I shall return.'
Dorothea, at least two inches shorter was forced to raise her head to meet Veronica's gaze. 'Then I am compelled to be abrupt; you might be an accomplished violinist Miss Day but I sense something of the flirt in you – you are not welcome here – certainly not at the castle.'
'I believe that is for your brother to decide, the owner? Now please excuse me, I have no inclination to listen to your insults.'
Dorothea seemed unwilling to give ground so Veronica pushed past her heading towards the village. Dorothea's voice, frosty and sharp, followed her, 'You will do well to heed my words.'
The warning had been starkly delivered but Veronica was in no mood to heed it. Just why was Dorothea so vindictive? She felt renewed concern for John Gibbings in the face of such inexplicable hostility.

* *
Dorothea Llewellyn watched Veronica Day all the way to the village, then turned and headed back to the castle.
But she wasn't heading for the castle itself, she was making for the walled garden on its western flank.
John Gibbings had been trimming verges surrounding the flower beds when he saw her
approach, wearing a tight fitting full length white dress and matching hat. He lowered his shears. 'Good morning, Miss Llewellyn,' he said respectfully.
'Good morning Gibbings.' Dorothea waltzed slowly up to him, carried on by a yard or two and then stopped, angling her head towards him.
'You might be aware that Mr. Llewellyn has returned to his London business, thus the day to day running of castle affairs lies in my hands.'
'I have heard as much.'
'I have been of mind to cancel your employment forthwith,' she said, swinging up to him. 'I find you dishevelled, not to say filthy, particularly your hands; put down the shears, Gibbings.'
Gibbings laid them down beside azalea flower beds, and Dorothea looked up at him, taking the tips of his fingers in her hands. 'Ah look at them Gibbings, your fingernails are black, your fingers are encrusted in dirt.'
She let go of them, looked searchingly into his eyes. 'However, Mr. Llewellyn is of the foolish notion that you are of some value to the castle, therefore I am goodhearted enough to grant you a reprieve.'
'Thank -'
'On the understanding that you use the castle washroom regularly and leave it in a fit state-'
'I do so already Miss -'
'And that you report to me each morning before commencing work, so that I might assess your standard of hygiene. You understand?'
Gibbings gave a slow nod of the head.
'Good.' Dorothea began to walk away, stopped and without turning, said, 'One more thing,
you are to make no contact with the musician Veronica Day, should she choose to return
here.'
'There has been no contact,' Gibbings protested mildly, 'other than Miss Day thanking me.'
'Oh yes, for your brave deed. Noble indeed.' Dorothea swung round, eyes narrowing, 'It is my considered opinion that Miss Day would prove a disruptive influence if encouraged. I saw how close the two of you were standing – I have eyes Gibbings. Mr. Llewellyn might own the castle but in his absence I control affairs. You have been warned.'
She raised a forefinger towards his eyes. 'You are indebted to me Gibbings, do not be
foolish enough to forget it.'
The gardener met her stare, retrieving his shears, before continuing his work in silence.