Castle In The Clouds, Chapters Nine and Ten

Chapter Nine
Llewellyn clambered into the trap and stretched out his legs. 'Spot on Hambleton, ten o'clock precisely; damned inconvenience yesterday I say, the wind bringing a tree down on the line like that.' He slapped a hand on the trap's side, 'So how are things at the castle – is Miss Day nicely settled in?'
Hambleton brushed a finger across his lip, taking the reins with his free hand. 'She arrived on time sir.'
'I see, fine, just fine.' Llewellyn tweaked his moustache, gave his butler a lengthy glance, 'You seem unusually reticent, Hambleton, is something the matter?'
'It may be nothing sir.'
'It is plainly something if it is causing you disquiet.' Llewellyn settled back in the trap, folded his arms. 'Is my sister proving bothersome?'
'Miss Llewellyn is at best, difficult sir.' Hambleton drew breath, sighed, 'She appears to have developed an unusual relationship with Gibbings.'
Llewellyn let out a high pitched laugh, at variance to his speaking voice. 'Relationship, Hambleton – oh come now.'
Hambleton shook his head, concentrated while he guided the pony out of Berwick into open countryside. 'I am not suggesting it is in any way physical you understand. However she has taken to giving him daily inspections as to his cleanliness -'
'That is not at all strange, she has the notion that he is untidy – I do not hold with it but -'
'Forgive me for interrupting sir, but there is more – she has taken to finding him odd jobs within the castle -'
'That is another of his duties -'
'They seem almost entirely to be within her private quarters, sir.' Hambleton fell silent, allowed his words to sink in.
Llewellyn took a deep breath of warm summer air and shrugged. 'Oh I am certain there is a simple explanation for that; my sister has a loathing for Gibbings which is quite beyond my comprehension. In fact it quite unsettled Miss Day on the last occasion. I had to go out of my way to rebuke her less she dismiss him. The castle is centuries old, Dorothea has a knack of finding faults, that is the explanation.'
'There is more sir.'
A twitch of amusement showed itself in Llewellyn's cheek. 'You are of an unsettled frame of mind this morning, what is it?'
'That I cannot say sir, Miss Llewellyn has a boisterous nature and that may be all, however Miss Day also displays an interest in Gibbings.'
The smile was back on Llewellyn's face. 'That is understandable Hambleton, he did after all save her life, she therefore worries for his welfare. It is nothing more than that.'
Onto the causeway and around the bend the castle came into sight, high on its rock. 'Ah,' Llewellyn gasped, 'what a welcoming sight that is, Hambleton.'
'Yes sir.' But Hambleton's features were grim.
*

'If you're looking for your guest, you're too late – she's out.' Dorothea turned her attention from the dining room window, where she'd been watching Gibbings gardening, and regarded Llewellyn through narrowed eyes.
'That's her choice, she's here as a guest after all.' Llewellyn shrugged, endeavouring to conceal his disappointment that Veronica hadn't been present to greet him. 'How are things Dorothea, I trust there are no problems to speak of?'
Dorothea waved a hand dismissively. 'Nothing I haven't been able to handle – I would have thought she'd have the courtesy to await your return before undertaking her expedition of the island,' she persisted, swinging up to him, arms crossed.
'Why do you take it upon yourself to be so vindictive?' Llewellyn suddenly snapped, receiving a triumphant smile from his sister.
'Oh dear, dear,' she patted his arm, 'more than a little touchy this morning, aren't we, Thomas?'
'On account of your behaviour, nothing more.' Llewellyn brushed down his blue blazer and white flannels, turning away from her. This wasn't the homecoming he'd expected.
'I beg your pardon – and what is wrong with my behaviour?' Llewellyn felt Dorothea's hand grasp his upper arm, 'Has somebody been complaining, and would that somebody be Hambleton?'
'Hambleton has said nothing,' Llewellyn lied, removing her hand from his arm; for the equilibrium of the castle he could not impart what his butler had told him. 'Purely my own observations, I know you well enough, Dorothea.'
'Not as well as you think it seems.' Dorothea's tone had lowered, her lips twisting into ugly shapes, she lofted her head back and black curls swung about her face. No sooner had he set foot in the place than she was becoming confrontational, but he had allowed her to goad him over Veronica's absence, though he retained enough composure to prevent her capitalising on it.
He turned away with her taunts ringing in his ears and headed upstairs, out onto the roof garden, past the benches and table to the parapet, and then sweeping his eyes along the shoreline he saw her, a tall figure in a flowing green dress making her way jauntily towards the castle, pausing now and then to hurl a pebble into the sea.
Delighted to see her returning he dashed through the castle and down the slope, which she now approached looking windswept, slightly tanned and very healthy, her red hair fanned out by the wind. She greeted him with the broadest of smiles.
'I'm delighted to see you Veronica.' He took her hand and when she clutched it gently, let go. 'I'm so pleased you could come. I would have arrived yesterday but for a fallen tree on the main line.'
She swept her hair away from her eyes. 'Well you're here now and that's nice.' She glanced out to sea and then up at the skies. 'The weather's been kind to us after all that wind and rain. I was going for a walk around the island but I saw you and Mr. Hambleton in the trap.'
'Perhaps we can do so together?' Llewellyn suggested, with a tweak of his moustache. 'I hardly know the island myself, never having had the time.'
'Yes, let's.'
Llewellyn felt like a love-struck youngster, longing to take her hand but fearing to be so bold, so soon.
'Isn't it great to be at one with nature?' Veronica said cheerily as they headed back along the shoreline.
'Most certainly,' Llewellyn replied, nodding at a flock of birds foraging amongst the seaweed, 'they seem happy enough.'
'Turnstones,' Veronica smiled.
'I beg your pardon?'
'They're called Turnstones, they're distinguished by their short orange legs and small black bill – oh, and look at the baby gulls,' she pointed to a small group on the edge of the breakers, observed by their parents, splashing and tipping their tails. 'They're learning to swim. In a minute one of the bigger ones will stretch a foot out, tip them over – sink or swim technique, that's what it is.'
Llewellyn was impressed; he hadn't counted on getting a nature lesson. They stopped to watch the gulls; sure enough one of the parents toppled them over, one by one.
'You seem quite acquainted with nature,' Llewellyn remarked as they strolled away from the shore, heading towards the abbey ruins.
'That's down to my parents,' she said, 'principally my father; we spent long holidays on the coast when I was a child, he taught me a lot – he was a great enthusiast on wading birds -' she sighed, 'and then we moved to Vienna and everything changed.'
'In what way?' Llewellyn asked, offering a hand to assist Veronica as they climbed a steep bank.
'No, it's okay, I can manage.' She waved him away, climbed the bank easily and Llewellyn felt a momentary stab of resentment at her refusal to take his hand. 'My father was a professor, and took a post at the University of Vienna, and my mother became a music teacher in the city.'
Llewellyn noticed the smile had gone from Veronica's face. 'Would you like to rest. There is a garden adjacent to the abbey grounds -'
'Good heavens no, why, are you tiring?'
Llewellyn was taken aback. 'No, of course not – it's just that, well – you seem suddenly a trifle weary.'
'No, no,' Veronica said dismissively. 'It's just the thought of all those years in Vienna; although I received an outstanding education and learned the violin, I missed my childhood in this country.' Veronica turned her back, gazed out to sea and clapped her hands. 'Especially locations such as this – peaceful, remote, isolated.' She swung back to him, 'Come on, let's carry on inland, I'm turning melancholy.'
Llewellyn led her into a curving lane, its hedgerows adorned with hawthorn and elder. 'I've read about your years in Vienna, but I hadn't realised you were unhappy there.'
'I wouldn't say I was unhappy exactly, but it's not that I had a lot of option – more a case of having to. I must sound ungrateful -'
'No of course not,' Llewellyn was quick to shake his head. 'I undertook a career in banking, under my parents' guidance you understand – I cannot say however that I've felt any regret, or had the inclination to pursue anything else.'
'Then I'm happy for you.' Veronica broke off as a gaggle of geese flew low overhead, 'You have made a success of your career doing something you like -'
'As have you -'
'Yes, but at a cost.'
Llewellyn was going to question her reply but she gave him an inquiring glance and
said, 'You say you read about my years in Vienna, where did you read it?'
Llewellyn swallowed heavily, in his desire to become familiarised with Veronica he had studied every classical music journal he could get his hands on, but he wasn't certain he should admit to it.
But as he was formulating his reply Veronica broke into his thoughts, pointing across to the castle grounds. 'That's your gardener out there, I believe – he does such a fine job on your gardens.'
'Yes, indeed he does. Shall we have a word with him?'
'Oh no, I wouldn't want to intrude on his work.'
'Nonsense, I'd intended to speak with him on my return and you, I know have a concern for his welfare, a concern that I fully appreciate.'
Veronica briefly lowered her eyes as Llewellyn opened the gate and led the way to where Gibbings was planting rose trees. 'Good morning Gibbings, a fine job you're doing -' he outstretched his arm, 'you remember Miss Day, no doubt, she was just expressing her admiration for your work.'
Gibbings afforded her a quick glance, broody, unsmiling.
'I try my best.'
'That's all I ask.' Llewellyn cupped a palm to his chin, 'You are well I take it, you look a trifle jaded -'
'Aye sir, I'm fine.' Gibbings tapped restlessly on the shaft of his spade. 'Everything's fine.'
'And Miss Llewellyn has treated you well?'
‘Yes, sir.’
'Very well, keep up the good work.' Satisfied, Llewellyn turned to go, but Veronica remained still. 'Mr. Gibbings, I shall be holding a recital in the castle's roof gardens tomorrow evening, weather permitting -' she looked to Llewellyn who turned abruptly in surprise, 'with Mr. Llewellyn's permission of course. I would deem it a great honour if you would attend.' She glanced again at Llewellyn, 'This invitation is naturally extended to your entire household.'
Gibbings' eyes widened. 'No, he protested, I can't -'
'Nonsense Gibbings,' Llewellyn interrupted sternly, glancing to Veronica. 'What a fine gesture, to refuse would be an act of rudeness and I do not tolerate incivility. You shall attend, as shall my sister, Hambleton and Mrs. Simms. Beforehand we will dine on the terrace.'
Gibbings opened his mouth to speak but clamped it shut without uttering a word, though his jaw was clenched and he was biting his lip.
Veronica gave him a smile and a nod, before joining Llewellyn in a walk back to the castle, 'Forgive me for not seeking your permission, she said quietly, 'but it was an impromptu decision, and I thought it would be nice for your household to be involved.'
'Indeed it would, what a noble gesture. We are so fortunate to have you as a guest.'
Llewellyn, smiling broadly, approached the castle, his pleasure growing. The presence of Veronica with her fine music on a lovely summer's evening would dissolve any disharmony that existed in his midst as surely as ice-cream melted on a hot day. Though he suspected that a lot of what he'd heard was a figment of his butler's overactive mind.

Chapter Ten
Dorothea looked up from her paper, a frown lining her forehead as the strains of Veronica's violin seemed to fill the castle, cascading down from her room. 'This place is becoming an incessant musical box,' she complained to Llewellyn from her armchair.
'Nonsense, Veronica needs frequent practice to maintain her exceptionally high standard,' Llewellyn said, raising his ears to the music as he reclined in a high backed leather chair. 'We are fortunate to be given the opportunity to listen to her music – indeed, I should inform you she will be holding a recital out on the roof garden tomorrow evening, I trust you will be gracious enough to attend; I expect the whole household to be present.'
Dorothea put the paper down, her lashes meeting repeatedly, before giving Llewellyn a disbelieving look. 'Hambleton I concede - Mrs Simms I confess to not knowing her musical inclinations. But as for Gibbings, you are not suggesting that the likes of him would be in the slightest interested -'
'The invitation was not mine Dorothea.' Llewellyn arced from his reclined state, placed his hands on his knees, 'It was extended by Veronica herself, most generously.'
'Oh such generosity Thomas,' Dorothea laughed incredulously. 'Have you not noticed her tendency to “call the tune” if you'll excuse the phrase. She seems to do as she pleases and that is not normal for a mature woman of her standing -'
'What pleases me Dorothea, is that you, Hambleton, Mrs. Simms and Gibbings do the lady the courtesy of attending her performance.' Llewellyn brushed his moustache roughly with the back of his hand. 'And I will thank you to keep your ill-conceived opinions to yourself.'
Dorothea gave a slow, bitter smile, 'Oh that you be stung by mere words, Thomas. Are you so star-struck that you cannot see the truth in them, or do you indeed do so and choose to shut your eyes and ears?'
'Your nonsense is the only thing that deafens my ears Dorothea and I will listen to it no longer.' Llewellyn sprung to his feet, made for the door, stopped as he grabbed the frame and turned; his voice low in contrast to the music from the violin, he said, 'I trust you will remember your civility at dinner this evening, for the sake of our guest.'
Dorothea rose and sauntered towards him, her long cream gown brushing the stone floor, 'Unfortunately I shall not be present. I have an engagement with an intermediary from the village. Someone needs to maintain supplies for the demand made on them by your unexpected guests.' Dorothea raised her head as she brushed past him, regarded him with wide eyes, 'Don't they?'
Llewellyn watched Dorothea approach the stone stairway with a familiar swing in her stride, but more pronounced on this occasion; he heard her steps as she climbed it, presumably to the next floor where she had two adjoining rooms, one serving as her office. He wondered momentarily what work Gibbings had undertaken in them then chastised himself for even reflecting on it.
Dorothea's powerful aura, her attitude, her haughty sarcasm, seemed to encompass him at times, and in times of his absence, seemingly the castle itself and those within it, and this within a few short months of taking possession of the place. He wondered ultimately whether she might engulf the whole island, and then shuddered at the thought.
For the first time that day he considered whether an impartial administrator might have proven a prudent investment whereby his sister could have remained in her Richmond home. But his business dealings had extended him beyond his ability to purchase the castle outright, and only Dorothea's intervention had made the acquisition possible. Hence she now held a stake, and control of castle affairs in his absence.
Upstairs the music had ceased, and fearing that in her present frame of mind Dorothea might provoke a confrontation with Veronica, Llewellyn ascended the steps to the upper floors, on the first of which Veronica's room lay. Her door was slightly ajar, he tapped twice without response and so, nudging it open a fraction he peered through. Veronica's violin sat on its stand, but of her there was no sign.
He ran up to the roof garden and from the shade of the open door, saw Veronica and his sister.
Veronica was relaxing against a green wrought-iron bench, with Dorothea, arms folded, prowling to and fro, her hawkish gaze angled towards the violinist. 'It was very generous of you to arrange to perform for the household's benefit, even those of us who do not wish to hear you.'
'My offer was made with all good intentions,' he heard Veronica calmly say. 'It was meant to convey my gratitude at being invited back. Miss Llewellyn, I wasn't the one who deemed it compulsory.'
'No indeed it was I.' Llewellyn had intended simply to eavesdrop but Dorothea's belligerence had gone a step too far. He was livid, lunging into the roof garden, his fists clenched so tightly they shook. He sensed that Dorothea knew it, because for once that arrogant stance had deserted her. There was a nervousness in the way she stepped back.
'Thomas wait.' Veronica had moved with surprising speed across the bench, he felt her hand clasp his wrist with a gentle firmness. 'It's not what it seems. Dorothea's duties leave her tired, running the affairs of a building such as this, is, I suspect, no small order.' With her eyes firmly set on Dorothea, she said, 'I think you mistook what you saw as rudeness for frustration.'
Llewellyn took a huge breath as Veronica released his wrist, and swung away. He recalled Dorothea's agitation a few minutes earlier, over the evening visit she had to pay an intermediary, but he still couldn't excuse her behaviour -“even those of us who do not wish to hear it.” Despite Veronica's intervention on her behalf Llewellyn struggled to interpret Dorothea's remark as anything other than rank rudeness.
'Thomas, might I suggest that tomorrow evening Miss Llewellyn relax in her own way,' Veronica said quietly, her hand upon his wrist. 'I shall be quite satisfied with the company of the remainder of your household.'
'Very well, Llewellyn stammered, he had all but lost control of his reasoning; he needed space, time to regain his composure. Admirably, Veronica seemed to have lost none of hers.
*
Dorothea lofted her head, gave Veronica a stony glance as she followed her brother out.
She was smarting – had she of all people, played directly into another's hands? She'd lost face, for the first time she could recall; her brother had lost his temper as he occasionally did when pressured, but all the while Veronica Day had remained ice-cool. She'd out-maneuvered her, and despite that placid composition, the woman knew it. That one fact released a message darting to her brain – she was not to be underestimated.
Back in her main room Dorothea stretched out on a Chesterfield sofa, a glass of Scotch whisky in her hand, fingers tapping restlessly on the glass while her eyes travelled frequently to the clock.
She had a visit to pay somebody shortly, but that somebody wasn't the intermediary she'd
informed her brother of, neither was it business related; the recipient of her visit had crept his
way into her mind and soul by some, invisible, unguarded entrance she hadn't known existed until too late, by then he had taken root, governing her thoughts and actions so that all she saw was him, yes – and a lurking, ice-cool predator.
John Gibbings was loathsome – he was dirty, untidy, of undeniably low social standing and yet she desired him, needed his presence on an ever-increasing basis -
But he hadn't responded the way she'd have liked and so she'd found him regular jobs in the privacy of her rooms, until they were no longer enough. It was his full attention, his full, physical attention she wanted and nobody was going to stand in her way.
Veronica Day wasn't the quiet, introverted classical violinist she gave the impression of being, she was the lurking, ice-cool predator, the classic wolf in sheep's clothing; but John Gibbings didn't answer to Day, he answered to her, he was in her debt and at any time she could recall it, would do if he failed to comply with her demands. Though it wouldn't be necessary, because Gibbings, she was certain, would come to cherish her affections.
Dorothea coiled her hand tightly around the stem of her glass, swirled a mouthful of scotch and felt it glide warmly down her throat, before embarking on the short walk to John Gibbings' cottage.
*

Thomas Llewellyn had been embarrassed beyond measure by his loss of composure in the roof garden. In the past he'd occasionally allowed his temper to rule his actions and ended up regretting it. Only Veronica's calm response had prevented him exploding at his sister, but in losing his equilibrium had he diminished her respect for him? How did he stand in her eyes now?
For the past two hours he'd reflected on that, and whether to seek her out and apologise for the scene he'd helped create but he'd held back, determined to regain his full composure, to present himself in his true colours, that of a rational, well mannered and cordial man – someone capable and worthy of becoming her suitor.
Now he experienced a fizz of excitement as Veronica walked into the dining room where he stood waiting, the white dress she wore enhancing her tanned, unblemished skin, while a slim gold bracelet sparkled from her wrist.
He caught the fragrance of her perfume as she responded to his outstretched hand, taking a seat opposite, a hint of honeysuckle on a summer's evening. 'Veronica, it warms me to see you looking so lovely,' he said, seating himself in a plush red dining chair and leaning forward. 'I feel I must apologise for my inexcusable behaviour this afternoon.'
'Not at all Thomas.' She reached across, placing her hand on his, her long fingers enveloping it and sending a tingling thrill through him. 'You must not feel that; you misinterpreted the situation, that is all – you acted on my behalf and showed your true, good nature.'
He was glowing inside from the feel of her touch, so soft, and yet he'd so recently experienced the firmness of her restraining hold on him. 'My – my self-control deserted me. I felt that my sister was being insufferably rude.'
Veronica removed her hand from his, raised a glass of red wine to her lips, he felt her vibrant green eyes on his as she said, 'Your sister is what she is, Thomas, somewhat volatile, but I've told you it was all a misunderstanding – and please do not feel the need to intervene on my account. I am not easily alarmed or offended.'
Her voice was quiet and yet so clear, her composure seemed absolute, her beauty as the
evening sunlight shone through the castle's Gothic windows exemplified in her hair, rich in
vitality, its hue matching the reddening sunlight – he took in her broad, intelligent face and fine nose – Veronica Day had it all and Llewellyn was aroused.
He was ready to fire his big question, it seemed the perfect moment. 'I was wondering -' he began, but stopped short as he saw Hambleton enter the dining room bearing a tray containing dishes of smoked salmon. 'Thank you Hambleton.' He watched his butler carefully lay out their meals, 'I trust we shall enjoy this as much as we surely will Miss Day's violin recital tomorrow. Let us hope for a fine evening.'
'I'm sure it will be sir.' Hambleton glanced out of the window, saw a figure passing the walled garden, heading towards John Gibbings' cottage. 'For Mrs. Simms' benefit sir, might I enquire as to whether Miss Llewellyn will be requiring supper, she hasn't mentioned it you see -'
'I have no idea,' Llewellyn said edgily, the mere mention of his sister's name was becoming enough to irritate him. 'She has an appointment in the village with a supplier. If she had made no mention then Mrs. Simms may be released for the evening.'
'Very good sir.' Hambleton left the room and Llewellyn contemplated bringing up the subject uppermost on his mind until Veronica spoke between mouthfuls of salmon. 'This is excellent. Mrs. Simms is a splendid cook, in fact I must compliment you on your selection of staff, they are all first rate. I assume they were your appointments.'
'Such as they are – a very small staff you will have noticed. Hambleton is my own man; he accompanied me on my move here and elected to stay. Mrs. Simms is a native of the island and John Gibbings is our gardener – in truth I know little about him,' Llewellyn paused, looked out at the gardens, a spectacle of multi-coloured splendour – 'other than that he does a first class job -'
'I see. Then how did you come to appoint him?'
Llewellyn adjusted his black smoking jacket – his favourite; this evening it felt a little tight. Perhaps it was the food or perhaps simply that the conversation was taking a course other than his intended one -
'Well, in point of fact I didn't employ Gibbings directly; whilst I was surveying the castle with intention of purchase my sister undertook to examine the grounds, encountering Gibbings near the cottage he rents on the edge of our boundaries. Apparently, she had some reservations, but again there were good recommendations, thus we employed him.'
Veronica turned her head away, placed down her cutlery, cupping her chin with the tops of her hands. 'What kind of reservations?'
'I really don't know.' Llewellyn was finding it difficult to suppress his growing irritation.
The intricacies of Gibbings' appointment as gardener seemed an insignificant topic for conversation over dinner.
'Is the salmon not to your liking?'
She returned her attention to him. 'Indeed it is, but I habitually take small breaks for digestion purposes.' Her eyes remained on him, although her face was expressionless they seemed to be searching – the clear message was, she wasn't through with the subject.
'I see; most commendable. With regard to your question,' Llewellyn said through a mouthful of salmon, 'I can only surmise that my sister took objection to the condition of his hands, which she continues to insist are always filthy, though what would you expect of a gardener?' He paused, took a sip of red wine, 'She has a strange attitude towards him which caused Hambleton to comment, but we are talking of Dorothea here one must remember.'
'What kind of comment?'
Llewellyn looked into Veronica's widened green eyes, they seemed to melt his frustration, 'Apparently that she gives him regular odd jobs and daily inspections. Anyway, her obsession with cleanliness was probably the cause of any reticence.'
'Perhaps,' Veronica said quietly, resuming her meal.
'I beg your pardon?'
'Perhaps we shall never know, and perhaps we shall.'
Llewellyn shook his head and then searched for a change of subject. Veronica's pre-
occupation with Gibbings' appointment had voided his mind for the moment of his intended course of conversation.
*
The door to the tiny stone built cottage lay open and so Dorothea didn't bother to knock, she didn't deem it necessary. She and her brother owned the castle and grounds after all, and that included the drab, unimposing dwelling she was now entering.
She blinked her eyes, adjusting to the gloom within, making out Gibbings' silhouette as he boiled water on a stove in the tiny kitchen beyond the drawing room.
'Miss Llewellyn -' sounding surprised he placed a kettle on the stove and came towards her, bare from the waist up, a towel slung over his left shoulder, his slim, well defined and tanned upper body glistening beneath a mop of dark curly hair. 'Anything I can do for you?'
'You do wash occasionally then?' Dorothea drew close, running the back of a forefinger slowly down the centre of his chest; she thought she saw a flicker of resentment in his eyes as his mouth tightened.
'Struck dumb are you?'
'Miss Llewellyn I -'
'Yes, there is something you can do for me,' she pushed past, brushing against his bare skin, 'after I've examined your quarters. Show me your bedroom.'
'If you care to look yourself, Miss -' Gibbings pushed open an adjoining door. 'I must attend to the lifeboat -'
'Do you not trust yourself in your own bedroom in my company Gibbings, is that it?'
She watched him clasp the back of his neck, shake his head. 'No, Miss.'
'Then step inside, it is not a request Gibbings.'
The room was sparse, a single bed, a worn oak wardrobe and an oil lamp atop a cabinet. A threadbare carpet covered the floor but Dorothea was not the least interested in the furnishing.
She entered the room and turned, Gibbings had halted barely inside the doorway. 'It seems that I am braver than you Gibbings, why – you seduce me here and I would be at your mercy – why, I'll make it easy, I'll come to you.'
Dorothea took two paces towards him, held his arms, her head craning towards his neck. 'No - Miss – please,' Gibbings thrust her away,'don't be doing this.'
She breathed deeply, made to come again then checked herself. 'Very well, you have passed my test, but I am most displeased with the condition of this cottage, more regular inspections will be necessary.'
Dorothea swept past him to the door, turned, swallowed back her indignation. 'Should Veronica Day place any demands upon you, be certain not to concede to them. I remind you that your position here is by my own good grace. Was Mr. Llewellyn to learn of the true circumstances surrounding you then he would dismiss you forthwith.'
Gibbings lowered his gaze, 'Aye Miss Llewellyn.' He watched Dorothea stride along the path, head high, arms swinging, and then slammed the door shut.