A Castle of Dreams (4 page)

Her brother David was sitting wedged into a corner of one of the long benches.

He was shivering violently and looked desperately pale and ill.  His fine blond hair fell across his forehead in a sweat-dampened tangle and even as she looked at him, he was racked by a fit of coughing.

“David, you should go below!  Get into your bunk and sleep.”

“In this sea?  No, thanks, Sis, I would far rather be up here where there is some fresh air.  Oh, but I am so cold!  I wish we could reach land.  I want to sleep in a bed that doesn't move.  I am sure I would feel better then and get rid of this dreadful cough.”

Viola bit her lip, pulled off the heavy coat she was wearing and laid it across him.

“Here – let me tuck this coat round you.  The storm cannot last for long – Captain Howard assures me that we will outrun it soon.”

Viola sat next to David and held his hand tightly as the boat rolled and pitched.

This journey across the Atlantic had started out so well, but it had turned into a nightmare.

The first part of their trip from New York to Dublin had gone smoothly.

The other passengers were quiet interesting people and Viola had enjoyed their company.

The crew had proved attentive and polite and Viola had felt vindicated in her decision to sail home on a small boat rather than wait for her brother to regain his strength.

David had spent much of his time in his cabin and Viola had begun to be increasingly worried about her twin.  She felt he should be further along the road to recovery than he was.

They had docked briefly in Belfast where several of the passengers had disembarked.

Then the boat had immediately set out on the short journey across the Irish Sea towards Liverpool.

“This is totally different to our wonderful journey outbound to America,” murmured David, his voice low and hoarse.

Viola smiled.

It had been a fantastic trip on a great liner, although she had still been smarting from her brief encounter with the Duke of Glentorran.

But she had been determined to enjoy herself and had forced herself to dance every night, in spite of a desire to sit and ruminate over the dark-haired Scotsman who had annoyed her so much.

However, all the excitement of the voyage over had paled into insignificance when they reached America.

The first clue that their lives were about to change was the luxurious chauffeur-driven car that awaited them at the quayside in New York.

They were hurried past the necessary officials by a young man, who announced that he was to be their personal assistant and they were next driven to a vast house in the most expensive part of New York.

Inside the opulent mansion they were greeted by a tall thick-set American, Mr. Lewis Wilder.

Viola had noticed at once that he was wearing black and his square rugged face carried a sad expression.

But she could never have dreamed of what he was about to tell them.

Tragically their father had died of a fever just four days before they reached New York!

David was now the new Earl of Northcombe and this vast house belonged to them.

But that was not all.

The rest of Lewis Wilder's news was so incredible that even now Viola could scarcely believe how much their fortunes had changed.

Because they had now become amazingly rich – so wealthy it made her head spin.

She had seen the figures laid out before her in the bank manager's office and realised that from now on she could buy whatever she liked and never miss it.

But even so, it still seemed totally unreal, as if she had fallen asleep in Cousin Edith's house in London and was dreaming the whole adventure.

Now, as the motor yacht they were travelling home in tossed violently in the storm, she said to her brother,

 “At least we can pay for the very best treatment for you when we land.”

David smiled weakly.

“All I want is rest, quiet, warmth and really good English food, Sis.  I enjoyed America, but everywhere was so noisy.”

“I still find it hard to believe that Papa finally made his fortune finding oil, when he had spent all those years when we were both young, chasing one foolish dream after another,” sighed Viola.

“At least he lived long enough to know he was rich and that his children would never want for anything again.”

“But at the cost of his own life!  Remember that Lewis Wilder told us how our poor Papa contracted the fever that killed him down in Texas in the oil fields.”

David coughed, his whole body shaking.  He pulled Viola's thick warm coat closer to his chin.

“I wish I could feel some sun on my face!  Listen, Viola, I like to think that our Papa would have felt that his life's work was finished.  He had achieved everything he set out to do and was at last vindicated in the eyes of everyone who said he was a fool and a dreamer!”

Viola nodded.

It was increasingly difficult to recall those first few weeks in America as the days had passed in such a whirl of activity.

She had been sad to lose her father, of course, but if she was honest, she had seen him so little in the course of her life that it was like hearing of the passing of a distant relation.

Viola was sorry, but not heartbroken.

“Wilder was not pleased when we said we wanted to return home to England,” David said shrewdly.  “I have a distinct feeling that he would like to become more than your business partner, my dear Sis!  I caught him looking at you at times and there was rather more in his expression than admiration from a mere colleague!”

Viola blushed and turned to gaze out of a porthole at the angry grey seas.

Lewis Wilder, had, indeed, become something of a trial in the last month of their stay in New York.

At first she and David had been grateful for all his help.

He had been their father's partner and as such he introduced them to the staff of their new home, to lawyers and bank managers and explained about the oil fields they now owned between them.

Lewis Wilder had supported the bewildered brother and sister through the trauma of their father's funeral and arranged for flowers and announcements in the newspapers both in America and back home in England.

He had a wide circle of friends in New York, all of whom were eager to meet the young English aristocrats.

After several weeks of mourning Viola and David had found themselves with a busy and exciting social life, helped by all the money they could possibly spend.

“You are quite right. He did ask me to marry him,” replied Viola.  “That was one of the reasons I wanted to go home so badly.  I found being constantly in his company was becoming extremely disagreeable.”

David coughed again.

“Sorry, Sis, my falling ill did rather slow us down. I hope that Wilder didn't make too much of a nuisance of himself while I was laid up?”

Viola shook her blonde head, feeling reluctant to bother him with reports of how offensive the big American had actually been.

He had made it very clear that if they were married, he would then have the power her money would give him to build up a vast oil-producing empire in the South-West of America.

There had been a dreadful scene when she refused his proposal and, although he had called at the mansion the next day and apologised to her, Viola was quite certain he was only pretending to be sorry.

Lewis Wilder was a man who always got what he wanted.  Powerful and arrogant, he could be very charming when he chose to be.

Viola felt strangely threatened by him and although she knew that he could not marry her against her wishes, she made up her mind to return home to England.

But just as they had both decided to leave America, David had been caught in a heavy rainstorm while he was out sketching and had developed pneumonia.

For a long week Viola had remained by her twin's bedside, doing her best to help the doctor and nurses, living in dread that he would not survive.

But luckily God had listened to her fervent prayers and thankfully David had pulled through, although he was still extremely weak.

As soon as she was convinced that he was over the worst of his illness, Viola had booked passage on a liner heading for Britain.

But when she told him of her arrangements, David had said he was sorry, but he could not face all the people, the size of the ship and the hustle and bustle of an Atlantic crossing.

Fortunately it was then that Viola had heard that the Van Ashtons, acquaintances of theirs, who owned a large, luxurious, ocean-going motor yacht, were preparing to sail for England on holiday.

It was to be a small party – three couples with their staff and the crew of the yacht.

Mrs. Van Ashton, a large lady who was delighted to be friends with a
real
English Earl and his sister, had been thrilled when Viola asked if she and her brother could join the yacht and readily agreed to take them.

They steamed majestically out of New York for the Atlantic crossing, little knowing what the spring weather would hold for them.

“Well, Lewis Wilder is out of your life now,” said David one afternoon while he and Viola settled into a quiet corner of the yacht's grandiose Saloon well away from the strong wind and rough sea outside.

“He will continue to manage the businesses over in America and there is no need for us to meet again unless he comes to England.

“Once we land, we can set about our own plans for the future. Buy a house – pay back Cousin Edith in some way – oh, and we will now be able to take care of Nanny as well!”

“Which part of the country shall we live in?” asked Viola dreamily.

David shrugged.

“I shall leave that decision to you, Sis.  Once I am well and strong again, I intend to roam all over the world.  I shall take my sketchbook and journey to all the odd and exciting places that I have heard so much about and never thought I would ever see.”

Viola smiled at him.

In some ways he was so like their father.  He always wanted to see and do something new, although luckily he had no taste for the business world or gambling.

“I shall buy a house in London and another one in the country,” Viola decided emphatically.  “You shall come and go as you wish and I will frame all your sketches and hang them everywhere for people to admire.”

She stood up just as the boat gave a great heave and corkscrewed around before crashing down into the water again.

Viola was flung up against the wall and managed to catch hold of the curtains that hung at the porthole.

“Good Heavens, David!  I can see land!”

“What?  You can't possibly, Sis.  We are nowhere near land – ”

Viola craned her head to see through the foam and spray crashing against the glass.

“But I can!  There are dark hills and a flashing light.  Oh, David, look!  There are rocks!  I can see them clearly.”

Her brother struggled to his feet, pushing her coat to the floor and joined her at the porthole.

“My word!  You are so right.  Something has gone badly wrong, Viola that is definitely not the coastline near Liverpool!  This storm must have blown us miles off our course.”

Suddenly the ship's siren started to sound wildly and then there was the sound of shouting and many feet running.

Above the shriek of the wind a loud crash sounded and the boat seemed to quiver all over.

An ear-splitting grating noise shattered through the storm as the ship tilted violently to one side.

“We've hit the rocks!” groaned David.  “Quickly, Viola.  We must get to the lifeboat.”

They forced their way out onto the deck where the crew were shouting, the Captain bellowing orders and all was noise and chaos.

Mrs. Van Ashton appeared in disarray, clinging to her husband's arm and moaning.

Her little maid scurried along behind her, clutching a vast jewellery box in her arms.

Viola had a sudden fleeting thought that thousands of pounds worth of diamonds were about to be lost in the icy waters that pounded against the sides of the ship.

Captain Howard made his way gingerly along the tilting deck.

“My Lord, Lady Viola, I am sorry to say we have hit some vicious rocks and the ship's hull has been holed in several places!  Luckily people ashore have seen us.  They have signalled to us by lantern.

“We are taking on water, but slowly.  I can launch the ship's lifeboat on the port side, but not the one on the starboard, which is the one that you and my Senior Officers would use.

“I think we will be best advised to wait for a boat to reach us from the shore rather than try to launch the second lifeboat when we are tilting so badly – ”

Viola clung to the brass railing along the deck and peered towards the coast which was shrouded in mist.

She could see a few blurred lights in the distance.

“We will go by your advice, Captain Howard,” said David.  “We don't seem very far from land.  How can this have happened?”

The Captain looked grim.

“I have no idea, my Lord, but I assure you I intend to find out.  Now, if you will excuse me, I must oversee the rest of the passengers.”

Viola and David stood close together on the steeply sloping deck, watching while the first lifeboat was lowered and the other passengers scrambled aboard.

Suddenly Viola could hear shouting from the water close by.

She peered over the edge as a rowing boat appeared out of the mist close to the ship.

There was a young man at the oars with his red hair plastered to his head by the driving rain, his strong arms effortlessly powering the boat forward.

Another man was standing in the prow, balancing himself with ease as the waves tossed the boat around.  He was wearing a dark rain jacket and had a fisherman's hat pulled down as far as his shoulders.

He waved imperiously at Viola and David as he shouted up to the deck,

“You need to jump now!  The ship's beginning to settle.”

“You go first, David!”