Castle In The Clouds, Chapters Nineteen and Twenty

Chapter Nineteen
Llewellyn took the trap to Berwick having left Hambleton to familiarise his new butler, Dawson, with the castle. He was in a state of euphoria; everything was set fair and it was a perfect summer's afternoon, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky.
His heart pumping like the steam engine soon to pull in, he arrived at the station a full thirty minutes early. As it transpired he had to wait an hour, the train having been delayed by operational difficulties, before finally the sight of grey smoke filled his eyes and clogged his nostrils, and the growing thunder of the locomotive as it ground into the station.
And then there she was – the first to alight from the carriages, a treat to his eyes as he stood by the exit, all leggy elegance with her yellow dress swirling in the breeze, the afternoon sunlight enhancing her rich red hair.
But his excitement was dampened by the absence of the familiar violin case he had bought for her. Her right hand carried luggage, and that was all.
'My dear Veronica, how wonderful to see you, and as always, looking so lovely.' He strode forward, taking her free hand, pulling her towards him and kissing her cheek.
'Why thank you Thomas, it is nice to be back, I can smell the sea air already.'
'From ten miles in? I doubt that.' As his smile became a frown, he asked, 'Your violin Veronica, surely you haven't left it behind?'
'I feel rather drained as far as my music goes, Thomas; I have trusted it to the care of my brother in Gloucester. A few days without it will not go amiss.'
'But your practicing -'
'I can make it up Thomas,' Veronica said dismissively as Llewellyn guided her through the
exit to the trap. He grunted. 'It is simply that I have invited some important guests to stay this weekend, I had envisaged you playing for them -'
'I am sorry, Thomas, I had not realised,' Veronica said tiredly.
'It is not your fault Veronica, I failed to mention it.' Llewellyn leaned his head closer to hers, 'I have other news,' he whispered.
'Then please do enlighten me, Thomas,' Veronica prompted, turning her head towards the countryside.
'I have secured a business transaction.' Llewellyn held his hands high, clapped them joyfully before taking the reins. 'My two guests who will be joining us tomorrow are our passport to ridding the castle of Dorothea's overbearing presence. It is soon to be ours alone.'
'Why Thomas,' Veronica swung to face him, her face brightening as she patted his arm, 'that is marvellous news – but are you certain she will accept?'
'I am offering an additional twenty per cent by way of dividend, given her present frame of mind I doubt that she will refuse.'
Veronica nodded, turned away again, staring silently at the rising hills.
'Is something the matter, Veronica, I thought you'd be delighted by my news.'
'Indeed I am Thomas, indeed I am - ' but Veronica Day said nothing further.
'I assume you are returning on Monday?' Llewellyn inquired at length.
'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.