Castle In The Clouds (standard:drama, 2363 words) [1/21] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Updated: Jan 13 2011	Views/Reads: 4457/2444	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Chapters one and two of my recently completed story revolving around an island off the Northumbrian coast. The precise location is never mentioned owing to the religious significance of the island.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

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. 


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