Castle In The Clouds, Chapters Seven and Eight

Chapter Seven

Llewellyn longed to see Veronica Day again. Even though but a few weeks had passed since he'd watched her brought ashore on the island, the thought she might return was ever on his mind.
She'd smitten him like never before; never before had he experienced the longing, the desire he felt now. He'd been a hardcore business man until her appearance; he'd had one or two relationships in his thirty plus years, but none that had endured. And Veronica Day, despite her beauty had no ties, he'd been informed thus by people who knew about such things.
Her effect on him had been such that his nights in London had filled with thoughts of her, playing the violin solely for him in candlelight on the castle's roof garden, her red hair fanning behind like a rich burgundy banner. And then afterwards he'd welcome her into his arms, curl them around her and draw her down, but that was where desire had turned to torment – torment caused by the longing to see her again – not knowing when that might be.
Llewellyn had spent the evening at a Berkeley Street private members club he was apt to visit on occasions, sitting in a plush, red leather chair, fingering through the pages of his newspaper routinely when he'd reached the arts and music section. There, beside a photo of Veronica was an account of her recent performances in Edinburgh. The newspaper reported that she had played to five packed houses in Edinburgh during a series of concerts and had received a standing ovation at each one. He read on to learn that from the Scottish Capital she was travelling south to York for more concerts.
He assumed she would travel by rail and thus pass close to the island, at a time when he was planning a few days return. Was it too soon to invite her back? If reason said yes, then his heart said no – and it was his heart, for the first time in his thirty plus years, that held sway.
It drummed at the thought of speaking with her, a sense of anticipation and yes, nervous apprehension.
But first he would need considerable good fortune, because Veronica had not left a forwarding address, promising instead to contact him when able to return.
He could only surmise that she had not yet left Edinburgh, and that she remained in one of the main hotels there.
Llewellyn got to his feet and made for the club foyer, engaging in a brief conversation with an official and tapping restlessly on the oak desk until a few moments later, the official returned with a list of hotel contact numbers. He made several calls without success, his hopes falling like a severed parachute as he approached the bottom of the list, whereupon he heard a gravelly voice say, 'Miss Veronica Day sir? She is indeed residing at the Arthur's Rock Hotel.'
Taking Llewellyn's name and number the porter promised to convey a message to the effect that she call him as soon as possible. Llewellyn hadn't wanted to alarm her but he did want to deliver his message personally, and thus thanking the porter he spent an anxious hour in the members lounge, eyes travelling uneasily between his paper and the ornate mantelpiece clock.
Eventually a blue-uniformed official came hustling in. 'Mr. Llewellyn, sir, a telephone call for you in reception – a Miss Day is on the line -'
Grabbing hold of the stem, 'Good evening Veronica,' Llewellyn called through the mouthpiece. 'I do hope I am not inconveniencing you -'
'Not at all Mr. Llewellyn – I do trust there is nothing wrong,' she broke in, sounding perplexed.
'No, no, nothing, I assure you – and call me Thomas please,' Llewellyn hastened, tweaking
his moustache. 'Forgive me for the intrusion but I have been reading an account of your fine performances in my newspaper, and note that you will soon be following up with performances which will bring you close to the island.' Llewellyn coughed, 'I was wondering whether you might favour us with a return visit?'
'So soon?' Llewellyn heard Veronica draw breath and felt he'd been shot down by a bullet. 'I really cannot afford any time prior to my performances in York, I need to rehearse frequently you see.'
'I see -' Despondency weighed down on him.
'However, I shall have a week free once I've completed my concerts; I should be more than pleased to return to your castle. Can I suggest the first of July?'
Llewellyn smiled, 'You certainly can; that would be first rate.' Quickly his mood had lifted, life was happiness itself. He didn't bother to consider whether prior engagements might prohibit his return at this time. 'We shall finalise arrangements later, perhaps you would be kind enough to write to Hambleton, advising him of the time of your arrival. Either myself or Hambleton will then meet you at the station.'
'Why thank you Mr. Llewellyn, until the first of July then.'
Llewellyn replaced the telephone on the desk as the line went dead, collected his paper and marched out feeling as light as a feather. Veronica's answer was all he could have expected, more in fact.
He'd deliberately arranged that she contacted Hambleton, for an indefinable reason he knew he couldn't trust Dorothea one iota concerning Veronica.
The less she knew before her arrival, the better.
Back at his London residence, Llewellyn wasted little time contacting the castle via the newly installed telephone system. He was more than grateful that Hambleton answered and not Dorothea.

CHAPTER EIGHT
July 1st

Dorothea Llewellyn cast disapproving dark eyes around the castle entrance hall and then swept along a corridor beckoning the butler to follow her. 'Hambleton as you are aware, my brother returns this afternoon, you know how he dislikes slovenliness and the castle appears a trifle dingy. See what you can do to brighten it up. I would summon Gibbings but I have other duties for him.’
Hambleton gave a discreet sigh, weren't all castles dingy? Their original purpose demanded it, and just what “other duties” was Dorothea planning for Gibbings? After her now daily inspections of him there seemed always to be a private task to hand. He watched her throw open a guest room door, raise her nose and sniff, then gaze down at a freshly made bed. 'I was going to suggest that you air the guest rooms, not that company is expected but for Mr. Llewellyn's benefit you understand. But this room has been freshly prepared, would you mind telling me why?'
Hambleton looked into eyes that burned not with curiosity but certain knowledge. Llewellyn had asked that Veronica's visit be kept secret, but he could oblige no longer -
'Well come on Hambleton, let's not dilly dally,' Dorothea said, hands thrust on hips. 'This was the room Miss Day slept in, was it not? Are you now informing me she is returning?' Dorothea's tone had risen a notch, her hooded eyes taken on their formidably hawkish look.
Hambleton raised a finger to his lips, trying to conceal his discomfort. 'Madam, that is so.'
She took a step closer, fiercely meeting his eyes. 'And why wasn't I informed of this?'
'I beg your pardon, Madam, but as Miss Day is Mr. Llewellyn's guest, I thought it unnecessary.'
Dorothea's complexion had a dark tinge to it, her angry eyes shooting rapidly to and fro as she screwed them. 'It is your responsibility, Hambleton, to see that I am informed of all developments relating to this castle – remember, you might be my brother's appointment Hambleton – but you are not indispensable – just when is this woman expected?'
'I am to collect her from the station at two pm,' Hambleton overcame a stammer, managing to keep his dignity in the face of Dorothea's ferocity.
'That will not be possible,' she snapped. 'I have already instructed that you check the castle interior thoroughly prior to my brother's arrival.'
'I beg to differ Madam,' Hambleton said in his humblest tone, 'they are Mr. Llewellyn's instructions and cannot be overridden.'
From a sudden movement of Dorothea's right arm Hambleton thought she would strike him, but as he stepped back her forefinger quivered an inch from his nose, before speechless with anger she swung away, storming back down the hall.
A sound of boots on the flagstone floor drew her to a halt. The lean figure in dark overalls stood before her. 'Miss Llewellyn, sorry for my late arrival,' John Gibbings said, 'the lifeboat klaxon sounded – a false alarm, I -'
Dorothea raised a hand dismissively. 'I will overlook it on this occasion.' She searched his eyes, 'I take it you have been made aware?'
'Aware, Miss Llewellyn, aware of what?'
Dorothea snatched a look back at Hambleton, 'It seems that Miss Day is to make an unannounced return visit forthwith, unannounced to me at any rate -' she fixed her eyes on him again,'is that interest I see on your face?'
Gibbings shook his head emphatically. 'No Miss Llewellyn, just surprise that's all.'
'She distracts you from your duties at your peril,' Dorothea hissed, her jaw tightening.
'She will not distract me, Miss Llewellyn,' Gibbings said solemnly. 'I have no interest in her, other than my duties as a lifeboat man -'
'Enough -' Dorothea gave a sharp intake of breath, 'come, show me your hands.' She took them in hers, turned them, applied some pressure – 'They look clean to me; before you endeavour to dirty them I have a task for you.'
Hambleton watched as Dorothea did an about turn, guided Gibbings along the hallway, passing him without a word. But Gibbings flashed him a look from his blue eyes, though its meaning if there was one, was hidden.
* * *
Hambleton arrived at the station to see steam from the locomotive waiting at the platform billow over the station roof. No sooner had he pulled the trap to a halt than Veronica Day, all leggy elegance in a flowing dress of pastel shades and fine lace trimmings, emerged through the exit, carrying her luggage in one hand and her violin case in the other.
She was attractive in the extreme and Hambleton knew his employer was fond of her. For his employer's sake he hoped the feeling was reciprocated, but Dorothea's thinly disguised hostility towards the violinist caused him concern. He did not trust Dorothea, his first look into her hard, dark eyes had bestowed in him wariness, but now he sensed she saw a threat in Veronica Day.
Precisely why, he couldn't comprehend. Perhaps she feared that a place in her brother's
affections might prejudice her own position in the household, or could it be something to do with Dorothea's strange behaviour towards Gibbings? Unlikely as that might seem, Hambleton kept an open mind.
'Good afternoon, Miss Day, a pleasure to greet you.' Hambleton smiled as he slipped from the trap and collected her luggage. 'I take it your journey has not been too tiring?'
'Not at all, Mr. Hambleton, I am stronger than I look.' She returned his smile though it faded a little, 'Is Mr. Llewellyn indisposed?'
'No madam, he is due to arrive later this afternoon, he had hoped to have arrived sooner, however an important customer of the bank has booked a late appointment.'
'Ah, she fell silent as Hambleton gathered the reins and the pony commenced its trot through the rolling Northumberland countryside. 'I'm certainly pleased the weather's picked up,' she said at length, 'such a nice, fresh feel to the day don't you think, after all the morning rain. Far better conditions for your gardener, Gibbings aren’t they? It must be awful for him in foul weather. How has he been faring?'
Hambleton fingered his throat, it felt cloyed, perhaps it was just summer pollen, but certain aspects of Veronica Day's visit did not bode well, there was an air of portent that made him tense – and just a short distance into the journey she'd hit on Gibbings.
'He seems well, madam,' Hambleton said uncomfortably. 'You understand that he spends much of his time on outside duties, therefore I do not see much of him.'
Hambleton coughed, something needed to be said before they reached the castle. 'However, I feel obliged to advise you that Miss Llewellyn's behaviour has been a little erratic of late, therefore any welcome she might extend may seem somewhat strained.'
Veronica didn't respond immediately, but the long intake of breath and the fact that her face
was suddenly turned from him suggested there was something on her mind.
'Miss Llewellyn has seemed indisposed towards me, though I do not feel I have done anything to sour her attitude,' Veronica said thoughtfully as Hambleton led the trap onto the three-mile causeway which connected the island to the mainland.
This was a subject that Hambleton did not want to be drawn into; it was part of the air of portent he thought was gathering. Whatever was influencing Dorothea's behaviour directly or indirectly involved the violinist, but her antics were certain to be curtailed by the arrival of her brother later that afternoon.
Or so Hambleton thought, because when he arrived back at the castle with Veronica he found that a surprise was waiting.
He had collected Veronica's luggage, followed her up the castle's steep, cobbled slope, quietly impressed with the ease and grace with which she negotiated what most found to be a difficult climb, when they passed Gibbings on the way down. Veronica moved across to greet him but there was just a hint of recognition beneath his long dark lashes as he hurried past.
'Hambleton -' Dorothea's sharp voice resounded around the church-nave-like entrance hall, and shortly afterwards she emerged from the passageway, cigarette holder between her fingers as she blasted a cloud of smoke and ash in their direction.
‘Mr. Llewellyn has been further delayed Hambleton,' she said with the merest glance at Veronica. 'He telephoned a few moments ago, there is an obstruction on the line – his arrival at the station will be delayed by at least two hours.'
'The tide will be out,' Hambleton grimaced.
'I am well aware of what it means Hambleton; the causeway will not be negotiable until ten
thirty this evening – however Mr. Llewellyn has decided not to impose on you at this hour,
generously he has elected to book a hotel room in Berwick. You are to collect him at ten o'clock tomorrow morning from the Station Hotel.' She raised her head in an unsuccessful attempt to match Veronica's height and said stiffly, 'My brother sends his apologies for circumstances beyond his control; he trusts you will enjoy your evening.'
'I will escort you to your room, Miss Day,' Hambleton cut in, 'following which I will have Mrs. Simms consult with you on your dinner.'
'Following which I should like to take a walk to fully familiarise myself with the island,' Veronica said, her eyes engaging Dorothea's for several seconds.
'I see.' Dorothea rested her arm against one of the hall's stone pillars, blew smoke in Veronica's direction. 'It's your prerogative, though I should have thought you were well enough acquainted from your previous visit.' She leaned forward, whispered in Veronica's ear, 'Remember what I told you, my dear you are not welcome here.'
'Only in some quarters I suspect,' Veronica whispered back with a cool smile, watching Dorothea's face freeze over.
* *
Dorothea's stance didn't so much worry Veronica as irritate her. She had been invited
as Thomas Llewellyn's guest and as such her presence wasn't resented in all quarters – but why had John Gibbings all but refused to acknowledge her return – was it on account of some hold Dorothea held over him? Or was he normally so shy or rude? She decided not, he hadn't seemed it when he'd rescued her or when she'd first spoken with him in the garden, their conversation only becoming stunted when he'd gazed at the dining room window – and seen who – Dorothea?
And then there was Dorothea's offensive manner during their encounter on the shore, where she'd stopped little short of labelling her a flirt. But she'd bit back her indignation and summoned her resolve. Dorothea wasn't going to dictate to her and she was going to address the problem with Gibbings.
She ate alone that evening, attended by Hambleton, who in contrast to Dorothea she found genial and affable. Looking out at the gardens, tranquil and colourful in the evening sun, she saw no sign of Gibbings, and thankfully Dorothea was either out or in her private rooms.
Veronica thanked Hambleton and excused herself, and after freshening up made her way down the castle slope, her long hair entwining itself around her neck in the breeze. Below, the sea was turquoise in the strong evening sunlight, and as she reached the bottom of the slope, turning towards the village she saw the lifeboat at its moorings along the shore, and a cluster of figures busying themselves around it.
From a distance it wasn't possible for Veronica to assess whether John Gibbings was amongst them, or even what the group's purpose was, but she willed that he be there and as she approached saw this was the case, making out his slim form amongst several washing down the hull.
She held back for fear of disturbing him, perching on a craggy rock behind the shingle from where she could see the crew going about their work, then looked in the opposite direction, towards the castle, sitting on its high mound of volcanic rock, and pictured Dorothea's brooding presence within. But she was a visitor – a guest of Mr. Llewellyn's and therefore in no position to confront Dorothea as well she might given differing circumstances – in any case to do so now might prejudice John Gibbings. If there was an opportunity to talk with him beyond Dorothea's
prying eyes she would take it.
It was some thirty minutes before the crew disbanded, most headed in the direction of the village, but Gibbings, after bidding goodbye to another, began to amble in her direction, hands thrust in pockets, eyes on the shingle. He was almost upon her when he looked up, saw her sitting on the rock and froze.
'Hello John, such a nice evening I thought I'd take a stroll -'
'And watch me working on the lifeboat -'
Veronica chewed lightly on her bottom lip, stared into eyes that did not fully meet hers. 'That you presumed my attentions were solely for you could be deemed vanity.'
'Why are you here then?'
Veronica thought carefully, in truth her visit had much to do with him, but was it indignation, resentment she saw in his eyes – and if so why? 'At the invitation of Mr. Llewellyn – only he has been delayed, so here I am, sitting on this rock, admiring the peace and tranquility of this island.'
'Then don't let me disturb you.'
'What makes you think you're disturbing me, won't you sit down? Room enough for two.' She patted the rock, smiling, aware there was a challenge in her eyes.
'I can't, the garden needs watering – the rainfall this morning weren't near enough.' He made to move on, his face was impassive but his eyes told a different story.
'Then I'll join you if you don't mind, I could do with the company. I feel somewhat isolated without Mr. Llewellyn's presence.'
'No, I don't need company,' his reply was rough, harsh, 'and I can't understand why you're taking this interest in me.'
'I've already told you that; because you saved my life -' her tone was a little stronger than she'd intended so she dropped it a touch, 'and because I think you've got a problem -'
'So you don't just play the violin – you're a clairvoyant,' Gibbings said as he walked away, the sudden sophistication of his speech both amusing and surprising her.
She watched him go, without another word, but she saw something else – from the castle window facing the village, high up, a shadow moved. Just a fleeting glimpse, but someone had been watching.