Castle In The Clouds, Chapters 31 & 32 (standard:drama, 2618 words) [16/21] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Jul 12 2010	Views/Reads: 2282/1650	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Veronica and Gibbings are trapped on the island, and Llewellyn's henchman Dawson is in pursuit

Chapter Thirty One 

The countryside flashed by, but not quickly enough for Llewellyn. As he
gazed out of the rainy window at storm-laden skies he felt drawn back 
to the island by Veronica's sheer beauty and the threat posed to her by 
the gardener, John Gibbings. He could not bear the thought of them 
being in the same locality, even though his influence on her was about 
to be terminated. His new butler, Dawson, was a formidable chap who 
would protect his interests with an iron hand, unlike the doubting 
Hambleton who had been honoured with his position for far too long. 

As long as was necessary -  for once Dorothea had tired of her games and
departed, (and depart she would,) wishing she'd accepted his offer once 
she'd witnessed the sublime happiness that would evolve from his 
marriage to the delightful Veronica, then Dawson would no longer have a 
task to fulfil. Llewellyn glowed at the prospect of the two of them 
alone in their romantic hideaway, a castle all of their own. How many 
couples could claim that? 

But first he needed to be there alongside her. The heat that burned
within wouldn't be quelled until then. In fact his desire had increased 
since leaving his London office, growing stronger every minute that 
brought him closer to the island. 

At Berwick he leapt into a carriage, barking his instructions and
flinging his case into the back before the driver had a chance to 
assist. The man was chuntering something but Llewellyn's thoughts were 
too tightly locked on Veronica to enable him to listen. 

It wasn't until he arrived at the causeway and saw the driver's hapless
gesture towards an angry sea that Llewellyn comprehended. 

The causeway was inaccessible, it would be for hours. This time the
man's words brought a nauseating cloy to his throat. He'd come this 
far, within three miles and a matter of minutes from his beloved 
Veronica. Several hours to him would amount to a torture beyond his 
ability to endure. 

He fastened his coat and grabbed his bag, searched along the grim
shoreline. There were vessels moored in the distance, fishermen with 
anoraks huddled in a group. Llewellyn set out towards them. 

*                                  *                                  * 

The vicar seemed to gaze suspiciously upon them from his elevated
position on the porch. Perhaps their bedraggled appearance caused a 
certain apprehension. 

'Why Mr. Gibbings - John, this is a surprise, and the young lady, Miss
Day isn't it? What on earth brings you here, and in these conditions, 
is something amiss?' 

'We ask you to shelter us, Reverend Robertson.  There is a man in
pursuit who is not at all pleasant, may we come in?' 

Robertson, a small man with a receding hairline, looked tentative,
baffled, but waved them through. 'Here on the island? I know of no 
rogues here.' 

He guided them along a dimly-lit hall. 'I will get you towels, you are
drenched - and then perhaps you would reveal what distresses you so. 
Please take a seat. Try not to drip over the upholstery.' 

Gibbings listened to Robertson's footsteps recede. 'He won't easily be
influenced by your posh speech, or what you have to say -' 

'We seek only shelter,' Veronica answered, aware of the harshness in her
voice, 'until it is safe to cross to the mainland.' 

Gibbings mopped rain from under his dark brows. 'Then we'll see if your
bright idea works. The vicar seems more concerned with the appearance 
of his furniture, if you ask me.' 

He glanced back out the window, Veronica saw his frown. 'I have told
you, he will not think of coming here; Dawson is a foolish, ignorant 


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