Castle In The Clouds, Chapter One and Two

Castle In The Clouds
Early Twentieth Century
An Island off of the Northumberland coast
Chapter One

To Thomas Llewellyn's unaccustomed ears the sudden noise sounded like a firework cracking the May air, disturbing the peace of an island and the small sixteenth century castle he'd just bought. It seemed idyllic, he hadn't counted on unruly elements shattering the rustic charm.
But then striding along the castle's upper gallery and glancing through a window, Llewellyn saw the reason for the disturbance, as an orange flare from a sea-going vessel ripped through the grey sky.
He trod a flight of stairs, opening an oak door leading onto a former gun battery which now provided a roof garden with a spectacular panorama.
But it was the sight of the sinking ship which caught his eye.
Viewed from a distance it seemed small, its stern largely submerged in the high seas while the bow appeared marooned above them; and then as a klaxon sounded repeatedly he watched the island's lifeboat crew assemble before setting out to sea.
Llewellyn felt a hand on his shoulder and smelled his sister's cologne blasting across his nose.
'Is this what possessed you to buy the place Thomas? So that you could watch real life
dramas unfold? No theatre can adequately portray the real thing, isn't that a fact? Prey – let us take a seat and watch.'
'Shame on me should I ever consider such a thing, shame on you that you actually propose it.' Llewellyn removed his sister's heavily jewelled wrist, 'Come Dorothea, if there is nothing we can do to assist, there is little point in witnessing some wretched soul's demise – we shall go inside.'
'Do so if you wish Thomas, but you are not my keeper, nor am I one of your City pawns.'
Dorothea gave Llewellyn a defiant dark-eyed stare. 'I intend to watch the show unfold.'
Llewellyn met that stare momentarily; dressed in her black cape, its hood veiling her dark curly hair, her prominent nose the only distinctive feature, Dorothea seemed every inch the sorceress. There were times when her support was invaluable, but there were occasions when her behaviour was insufferable. Such a time was now.
Llewellyn closed the door on her, took the gallery steps and made his way down to the lounge where he stood by a Gothic window and stared out across the island, surveying the scenery, wild now in the developing storm. He reflected on his decision to purchase the castle as a second home, and how it would fair under the auspices of his sister, to whom he'd entrusted the day to day supervision.
The plan was for Dorothea to manage his staff of three which consisted of David Hambleton, the butler, who had made the move from London to undertake the task, Mrs. Simms, who had been recruited from amongst the Northumberland island's residents as cook, along with John Gibbings, the young gardener cum handyman, who he'd been assured was both a gifted gardener and industrious worker.
The acquisition had been at considerable expense, but as a prominent banker it provided him with a prestigious residence to dine, accommodate and impress his influential clients. They could not fail to be so.
With the wind buffeting its stout walls Llewellyn commenced a routine evening inspection of a castle that had been expertly redesigned by a leading architect to resemble a fortified house. It's many rooms were mainly small in nature and encouraged intimacy, but the castle also contained areas where entertainment could be provided for important guests.
Llewellyn was examining the wide entrance hall, with its exposed pillars and red herring-bone stone floor, when he heard Dorothea's hurried footsteps behind him -
'Thomas – our drama appears to have been played out with success – come, witness a happy ending.'
Llewellyn shook his head, but nonetheless allowed Dorothea to snatch his hand and lead him back to the roof garden – 'Behold, a fair maiden is rescued -'
He followed his sister to the parapet; below on the shores, visible in the fading evening light the lifeboat had come ashore. And embarking from it, shawl wrapped around her shoulders and supported by four boatmen was a tall, slim woman. As Llewellyn watched, for a second the setting sun slipped behind racing clouds and reflected her long red hair.
The wind whipped that hair around her face and as she swept it back he saw her
profile.Her face was full and healthy looking, and the straight nose gave her a refined look; he could see at once her elegance and class.
Dorothea watched his chest swell, 'Fair takes your breath away, does she brother? Can she be that pretty?'
'It was the wind, nothing more,' Llewellyn said, aware that his reply had been curt, 'I was merely curious.'
Dorothea said nothing further as Llewellyn returned inside, but her eyes followed the party all the way to the village.

Chapter Two

Llewellyn slipped on his black tuxedo, examining himself in the mirror before heading down the castle's steep cobbled slope and making for the garden where he'd spotted John Gibbings tending the flowerbeds.
Hands on hips, Llewellyn took a quick look around the spring bedding, 'Good morning Gibbings, fine job you're doing with the grounds.'
'Thank you sir.' The dark haired young gardener looked up, squinting in the sunlight.
'Bad do last night, by all accounts,' Llewellyn continued, 'though I gather you chaps rescued at least one poor soul.'
'Aye,' Gibbings straightened, mopping his brow, 'though the crew perished with the ship, I'm afraid.' He hung his head before glancing up with renewed zest, 'Have you not heard sir?'
'Heard? Heard what?'
'About the young lady we rescued.'
Llewellyn fingered his moustache, interest heightened. 'I've heard nothing Gibbings, - only what my sister has told me – please be kind enough to elaborate.'
'The whole village is talking sir; it seems the young lady's famous.'
Llewellyn stiffened, was this man deliberately testing his patience? 'Gibbings, just who is this young lady?'
The gardener scratched his head, 'Verona something, Day I think.'
'Veronica Day you mean? The violinist? Llewelyn was astounded.
'Aye – some kind of musician they say.'
Some kind of musician, Llewellyn bit his lip – how ignorant these chaps were. 'Well thank you Gibbings, keep up the good work.' Questions finally answered, Llewellyn left him to the gardening.
Walking back up the castle slope, Llewellyn was acutely aware of what a precarious task it could be. The cobbles, still slippery from the overnight rain, glistened in the sunlight but one faulty step could send a person slithering down, or worse still off the rock face to serious injury or perhaps death.
What if a fate of this magnitude were to befall his guests? The consequences would be unthinkable. There was no doubt some kind of rail needed constructing.
Llewellyn paused at the top and turned his attention to the sea, the mountainous waves of the night before had subsided; it was difficult to believe that such a drama had been played out little more than twelve hours previously, not far out to sea. A drama that, distastefully, his sister had followed to its conclusion.
He thought again of the attractive young violinist who had so captivated him as she'd disembarked from the lifeboat. Veronica Day was a household name in the world of classical music, was it chance or fate that had caused her to end up here? He wondered whether she was fully recovered from her ordeal and for how long she'd be in their midst.
Llewellyn joined Dorothea in the dining room where Mrs. Simms was in the process of serving morning coffee from a tray.
'Mrs.Simms has just presented me with some interesting news,' Dorothea said, accepting a cup and placing her cigarette holder in a tray, 'though I don't doubt you've elicited the information from your little chat with Gibbings -'
Llewellyn sighed, taking a seat at the table opposite her; sometimes his sister's tone could be so tiresome. 'If you're talking about our famed violinist, Gibbings has indeed enlightened me.'
Dorothea gave a coy smile, mainly for Mrs. Simms' benefit. 'And I thought my brother had suddenly developed a healthy interest in gardening.'
Llewellyn brushed himself down, 'Really, do try to curb your sarcastic wit Dorothea.' He acknowledged as Mrs. Simms handed his coffee, 'Upon reflection, I'll take this up to my study, I've some important papers to peruse pending my return to London.'
'Oh, do excuse me, a trifle touchy this morning, aren't we dear?' Dorothea smiled at his irritation.
Llewellyn watched smoke mushroom from her cigarette, he was on the point of retribution but such recourse would be unbecoming in Mrs. Simms' presence.
To reach his study Llewellyn would need to pass through a central feature of the castle, The Long Gallery, with its stone pillars, its string of fine paintings along one wall, while the other afforded fine views over the North Sea. It was in The Long Gallery and out on the roof garden that Llewellyn planned to entertain his affluent guests.
The study consisted of a long rectangular bedroom he'd adapted for his personal use; its window gave a sweeping view across the island shore, and enabled him to see across to the village.
It was to this window that Llewellyn went now, cup and saucer in hand, and as he stood there sipping his coffee he saw the figure of a tall woman taking the coastal path towards the castle – warmth spread through his veins that wasn't supplied by the liquid.
It was caused by the sight of the woman – that woman was the violinist, Veronica Day.
Llewellyn placed his cup on his desk and put his hands on the window ledge, urging her to come closer, so close he could establish contact. But she wasn't hurrying; her demeanour was
perfect, refined and elegant; her long legs raking over the rough track that served as a road.
He followed her progress along the shore, watching the wind whip through her red hair, the shawl of the evening before had disappeared and in the warm spring sunshine she wore a long green dress, wide in the arms so the wind rippled her sleeves.
She was closer now, so close – midway between village and castle – that there was
excitement building within – he could not forego this opportunity to meet with her.
He checked in the mirror, fingered his finely trimmed black moustache, combed his short dark hair and then adjusted his tuxedo. That a woman should have this affect on him was unnatural but he couldn't forget that moment when she'd come ashore, the mere sight of her had been enchanting.
Llewellyn couldn't get her out of his head.
Down the castle slope he went at some pace, but upon reaching the curve which would bring him into her sight he slowed, if only to encourage her forward – he didn't want her progress disturbed -
And there she was, barely thirty yards from him, and he could witness first hand her exquisite beauty.
She stopped on his approach, made to turn away as he hurried after her, 'No please,' he called, trying not to alarm her, 'continue with your walk, do not turn back on my account.'
She looked at him hesitantly, sideways on – in the morning sunlight he thought she looked magnificent, 'I thought I might be trespassing when I saw you coming towards me -'
'Not at all, the coastal path carries right on by.' He offered his hand, 'I'm Thomas Llewellyn, owner of the castle, and you are?'
'Veronica Day,' she placed her hand in his and he shook it gently.
Llewellyn cupped his chin, 'The name sounds familiar.' He thought he saw embarrassment in her smile, 'I play the violin.'
'The Veronica Day – of course, how ignorant of me; what brings you to our small island?'
'A great tragedy, Mr. Llewellyn - a shipwreck -' she shuddered, looked out to sea, 'I'm not sure I want to talk about it,' then shrugging apologetically, 'it's difficult to believe when you look at the sea now -'
'Exactly what I was thinking just a few minutes ago -'
'I beg your pardon?'
'Oh I'm sorry Miss Day,' Llewellyn stammered, caught out. 'Well, I've been fed the barest bones of the incident – you understand on an island like this news travels fast. Might I offer you the comfort of my castle for a while?'
'No, thanks all the same; I found myself in need of some fresh air, getting out here just calms my nerves. You know I thought I was going to die, until I saw the lifeboat – one brave man plucked me out of the sea -'
'Don't distress yourself any further,' seeing the anguish on her face Llewellyn gently
guided Veronica away from the sea; his arm around her back he turned her towards the castle, 'what will you do now – how long will you stay?'
'No longer than it takes to recover from my ordeal, and to await the arrival of my brother in a few days time. From here we travel to Edinburgh, I have an engagement there you see -'
Llewellyn looked into her solemn brown eyes, immediately aware of their clarity, 'Was that where you were bound?'
She nodded, 'Unfortunately I lost most of my belongings – even my violin.'
'A shame – a great shame,' Llewellyn muttered, then with great conviction, 'but you have survived my dear, others did not – that is the thing -'
'I feel sorry for those who drowned, but yes – you are right – ah, it is such a fine day after such an awful night – how strangely disturbed our weather has become.'
'Yes indeed -'
Veronica took a step away, 'I will not detain you any longer Mr. Llewellyn, I feel refreshed now – the villagers have been kind enough to provide me with lodgings. I shall return there and rest awhile. It has been a pleasure talking to you.'
'Likewise,' Llewellyn took her hand and kissed it. 'I hope we will meet again.'
'Perhaps, Mr. Llewellyn, we will.' A smile spread quickly across her face, her eyes shone and Llewellyn felt the warmth in them.