A Castle in the Sky

By Anne Graham-Biehl

A Castle in the Sky is the third in a trilogy of children’s novels about English fairies and their mortal friends. As with Lavender Village, A Castle in the Sky puts communities of fairies and elves to the test as they strive to eradicate their enemies heralding from the Bleak Realm.

Celeste MacLeod lives with her husband, Graham, and baby, Matthew, in a renovated castle – all appears to be bliss and sunshine until the appearance of the outwardly charming weekins who wreak havoc and seem determined to drive Celeste out of her mind and regain Fellsdown Castle in Northumberland for themselves. At times, they are dangerously close to achieving their goal. What will happen to the fair Celeste? Who can overcome these seemingly indomitable creatures?

As with Lavender Village and The Mists of Afar, this work contains love, laughter and malice in equal measures. Will the Underworld conquer the Ladies of the White Way? Do indulge yourself and find out!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Jun 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463416631

Anne Graham-Biehl

Anne first conceived the possibility of writing a novel when she was a child. Her copy of Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables became a treasured friend. And so, many years later, while driving down a winding A road in East Sussex, Anne's imagination was sparked by a patch of grass and a sign post which read "The Enchanted Forest." Once home in Vancouver, the remembrance of this moment and the forest attached to her childhood school, Crofton House, brought about Lavender Village: two sparring fairy sisters sprang into being and the rest followed in a rush of inspiration and joy. Anne feels a kinship with all things British, including English mysteries. She also enjoys Victorian poetry and literature, both English and French. Her university major was French literature spanning the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries. Anne spent many years in the antiques business and loves travelling to England. Anne and her husband Graham like walking on the beach near their home with two much-loved border terriers, Ivy and Arthur. If you like Lavender Village, you may also enjoy the sequel, The Mists of Afar, which will follow soon.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Timothy’s Announcement

Celeste and Graham are where we left them, ensconced in Castle Malsbridge’s red salon in front of a roaring fire across from their new best friends, Sylvia and Henry. Celeste was looking around, trying to etch the scene into her memory; who knew when she would be back here again? The gilt carving was glowing everywhere, the enormous chandelier reflected the firelight in a rainbow of dancing colours, and the noble faces of family portraits seemed to be looking down with renewed interest. More than the splendour of the room, there was a presence – love, Celeste silently surmised, that presided over everything. Years of laughter and kindness gave the atmosphere a lightness and a warmth that needed no fire in the hearth to make its presence felt. These impressions all danced through Celeste’s lovely head, and she was going to be rewarded for her appreciation. Something special was about to happen.

Leaning forward dreamily with her sherry glass in one hand and her chin resting on the other, Celeste listened to the lighthearted chatter. Her amber beaded gown sparkled, completing the wonderful scene. She was so lovely with her ginger curls hugging her face and her eyes of near-emerald green projecting inner laughter. She had never been so happy in all her life. She reached over and patted Graham’s arm just as the door handle to the salon was turning from the foyer beyond.

The door opened slowly and in came little Timothy Greensbottom, pushing with both hands. He let go of the door and bowed solemnly to everyone. He was wearing his best red jacket, the one Sylvia had made for him just the week before, with his customary brown hat perched at a jaunty angle adorned by a robin’s feather. His hands were clasped firmly behind him. His wizen yet burnished face and deep set blue eyes gave nothing away. He cleared his throat and his words came slowly, perhaps for added impact. They carried the weight of much soul searching: ‘I am at a cross-road, dear ones. The Malsbridge children are grown and I find myself in need of a new situation. I am hard-working, loyal, and can apply myself to a variety of tasks. Nothing will stop me, with one exception – and that would be in not performing my duty. Celeste, I understand that you and Graham are about to start your life together…’

Graham, you see, had proposed to Celeste the evening before under the latticed-rose-covered gazebo in the Malsbridge garden. Celeste had put forth all the sensible objections, but there was something about the stars twinkling so merrily, and the scent of season-end roses that had swayed her, ‘You are asking me to take a leap of faith, Graham. So hold my hand tightly and we shall jump together!’ she giggled.

‘That is true,’ Celeste now admitted, lightly touching Timothy’s shoulder, ‘but I have no children. I am afraid there would be nothing for you to do, my dear.’ She looked over at Graham for support that was not forthcoming.

‘Just a moment now, my love,’ said Graham with his customary zeal, ‘opportunities like this one don’t come along very often – just think of it – our very own gnome. Why, Timothy holds the mysteries of the universe in that head of his, don’t you, my good man!’

At this moment, Sylvester, the family West Highland terrier, began to wail loud and long, ‘But Timothy, you are family. Wait ’til Georgiana hears about this. She’ll be ever so cross! Why can’t you just wait a bit. For pity’s sake, there will be grandchildren here eventually!’

Sylvia knelt down and lovingly stroked Sylvester’s head. ‘Timothy is free to leave if that is what he truly wants, as sad as that will be for us.’

Celeste let out a burst of laughter. ‘Sylvia, you can decipher what Sylvester has just said? This is the magic I have always dreamt of, Graham. Perhaps you are right about Timothy.’

Looking down at Timothy hopefully, Henry poured himself another glass of sherry and thrust one hand into his pocket, ‘Well, if it’s just a matter of keeping you busy, my dear chap, we could loan you out to one of the neighbouring village families.’

‘I’ll not be passed about, with all due respect, Lord Burnham!’ We’ve had some wonderful times together. I’ve always enjoyed editing your Westminster speeches for you, so don’t insult me by suggesting that!’

Putting his hand around Celeste’s slender waist, Graham proclaimed, ‘If you have no objections, Henry, I would very much like to have Timothy come home with us.’

Henry smiled and re-took his seat beside Sylvia. ‘Well, Timothy, shall we start the bidding for you?’

‘I’ll not be bid over either! You seem determined to vex me this evening, my lord!’

‘That settles it then!’ said Graham excitedly. ‘Start packing, my wee man!’

Timothy grinned from ear to pointed ear and bowed respectfully to Graham, then noiselessly left the room with Sylvester in tow, head down, whimpering softly.

Sylvia arranged a cushion behind her and sat back. ‘Well, my dears, I never thought I’d see the day when Timothy would leave us. But if anyone were to do it, the task would fall to both of you! Ah me! Well, as I said, Timothy is his own agent. I’ll see that he has everything he needs for his departure. You are welcome to stay on here – we’ve had such a jolly time. There’s no rush…’

‘Don’t try and twist their arms by prolonging the inevitable, my love,’ said Henry. ‘Timothy is determined.’

***

Chapter 2

The Departure

It was just past 7:30 on a crisp Saturday morning in September. Winter would soon be here but the sunlight bathed everything it touched in a protective and comforting golden light. As Sylvia had pulled aside a tapestry curtain in the bedroom, she noted that it was such splendid weather for Timothy to be leaving with his new family of two.

Meanwhile, the dearly-loved gnome was momentarily looking around his wee hedge-house at all the furnishings he was to leave behind. He took nothing except his gilt faery globe and a book he thought might come in useful for the long drive up to Scotland. He left his home intact as a memento for future Burnham children. Little did he know what a legend he was to become. Little imaginations creeping into the hedge-house would envision all sorts of fantastical adventures, and the valiant little gnome who would lead them to glorious victory!

And Lavender Village would remain, of course. Timothy had bid farewell to the Lavenders the evening before. Cordelia, who had clung to her prediction that their township would sooner or later become a thing of the past, was almost jubilant in her haughty stance, ‘It’s all happening just as I thought it would,’ she had said to Amelia as they stood waving Timothy off from the entrance to Mulberry Lane. ‘The outside world is at it again, taking things that don’t belong to it. It’s the curse that Sylvia left us with. Heaven only knows what will become of us with Timothy gone.’

Amelia had patiently suggested, ‘Well, why don’t we advertise for some new blood, then? Someone has written in the latest Gazette that our village is by far the most beautiful in all of England, Scotland, and Wales – I imagine that anyone would love to live here.’ But she was met with a curt, ‘Mercy, no! Think of who might turn up!’

The entire Burnham family, with the exception of Winston who could not bear to say goodbye, was assembled beneath the castle portico, tearfully hugging Timothy in turn.

‘Remember that we are always here, no matter where you travel, if you ever need anything.’

Elizabeth had decided that, as the eldest, she should be the spokesperson for her siblings who had come home for the weekend upon hearing the news.

But the ever blunt Arabella piped up, ‘After everything this family has done for you – taking you in when you had no place to go! Good riddance to you, I say! She had inherited her great-grandmother Alexandra’s sharp tongue. She turned to go back inside when Henry put his hand firmly over her mouth and held her tightly, ‘Don’t say things you shall regret, Ary.’

Arabella removed her father’s hand and said proudly, ‘I never regret anything I say because I am never wrong!’

‘Rudeness has always been your downfall, Arabella. You will get along much better in this world without it,’ Timothy said calmly.

Georgiana now burst through the throng and silently handed Timothy a wicker basket with a ‘B’, for Burnham, painted on one side.

Timothy opened the lid and peered inside. Just as he had thought, there was a generous supply of ginger cookies, Malsbridge oranges freshly picked from the conservatory by Mrs. Barrows, and a tonic Sylvia had brewed especially for his nagging arthritis.

‘Drink that sparingly, my dear Timothy. Take one quarter teaspoon full when things flare up and the bottle should last you for years – Anyway, you know where to come for a top up!’ She bent down and gave him a kiss on his cheek and a long hug.

Celeste and Graham had been standing back, giving everyone time to say their farewells.

Soon all three travellers were inside the coach Graham had hired for the trip up to Scotland. The driver couldn’t help but notice the family clustered around, and chatting with, what seemed to be no one at all. ‘I don’t know about this English lot!’ he muttered as he was mounting his seat up front. He received a sound rebuke from Timothy, ‘You shall keep your opinions to yourself, Mr. Whoever You Are.’

The driver heard the elderly voice and turned around, but saw only Celeste and Graham taking their seats inside. Scratching his head, he whispered, ‘It will be good to be home again.’

***

Chapter 3

Celeste’s Gown

Celeste had saved up all her spare pence and gone to a tailoress in Ayr. Timothy had wanted to accompany her – just in case she needed a second opinion on her choice of fabric. The door to the shop creaked as she pushed it open, the customary bell rang overhead, and a slim lady of about fifty came through a curtain hanging near the back of the store. She had kinked grey hair and a smart black floor-length dress with a white ruffled neck. As she moved silently toward Celeste, she put her hands up to her head, making sure that there were no unsightly wisps showing. The expression, imprinted on her face from many years of toiling for others, was a grim one, but her blue eyes held a softness. She was fond of bringing her customers happiness with just the right creation. In fact, she called the string of debutantes and wealthy women who patronized her, mes filles. This was always accompanied by a seldom seen smile. We all have something that makes us smile, be it strolling through a crocus-filled forest or inhaling a lilac’s bloom. Lucky are we who find that one special thing that makes us feel the sunlight flow into our hearts, even on overcast days such as this one.

The customary introductions were made and Clarisse La Montagne accompanied Celeste around the shop. From the many bolts of fabric ranging from lace to silk in a rainbow of colours, Celeste chose a simple cherry red satin. Clarisse had tried to direct Celeste to a more demure colour, one that wouldn’t clash with her ginger curls. But Celeste was insistent. This was Christmas and she needed something festive. Then there was the style of the dress. ‘Pas du tout en vogue’, Clarisse exclaimed when confronted with Celeste’s drawing. It was long-sleeved, slim fitting and slightly off the floor – designed to reveal Celeste’s shoes! ‘Mais ce n’est pas respectable, Mademoiselle!’ Clarisse further objected to the off-the-shoulder style with a band of cherry velvet skimming the top of the bodice.

‘Je le veux,’ Celeste had stated simply. (I want it.)

Clarisse pursed her lips and agreed to make the contentious gown. She shook her head slightly as Celeste said, ‘Merci bien, Madame.’ As Celeste was turning to leave the shop, the sound of several bolts of fabric was audible. Celeste ran over to Timothy.

‘I wanted to show you this embroidered one,’ said Timothy, pointing to what had to be the most disagreeable-looking fabric in the entire store. He had pulled on one and two others had given way on top of him.

Clarisse had come running over and put her hands up to her face: no one but no one dared tamper with her precious fabric! ‘Mais, ’ow did this ’appen?’

‘I must have pulled it out too far, Madame – Pardonnez-moi,’ Celeste said, blushing, as she pushed the fabric back into place hurriedly.

Graham was now pacing anxiously to and fro on the cobblestone side walk outside. When he saw his beloved exit the store with Timothy in tow, he rushed over to her, smothering her with a very long hug. He tousled Timothy’s hair and asked how they had gotten along.

‘I very nearly wrecked the place, I did!’

‘Oh well, I’m sure you couldn’t have done that much damage, old boy! Graham now swept his fiancée up into another long hug.

‘Good gracious, Graham,’ said Celeste, looking around and adjusting her hat trimmed with a sprig of holly, ‘I wasn’t gone that long!’

‘Anything more than five minutes is far too long,’ said Graham, gazing adoringly into Celeste’s turquoise eyes.

***

Chapter 4

Lavinia

A tiny spritely soul turned over in her cocoon as a gentle yet persistent voice repeated, ‘It’s time, Lavinia, dear.’ She opened one bright blue eye and quickly turned over, pushing the fluffy down-like pillow into a more comfortable shape. Her long silken-white hair had wound its way around her torso and spiralled down to her ankles. The interior of the cocoon pulsated quietly – it was just the right temperature. Lavinia had snuck back up to somewhere between Hither and Yon without being noticed, or so she thought. As it was now winter she had decided to have a good rest before alighting in a warmer spot than her previous home on the isle of Harris.

As with any restless nature, she had grown tired of northern Scotland and its harsh winters. A cold wind had blown abruptly past her whilst she was hovering over Lavender Village. Lavinia did not care for wind, even though it had taken her down to the loveliest of faery villages. She was very young, which explained her tendency to make unusual choices that brought her into harm’s way far too often. She so wanted to return to Lavender Village, she now thought. The Voice, however, came to her as gently as before, but with a firmness Lavinia knew she could neither charm nor manipulate.

‘Lavender Village is not your home. You will be sent to another one.’

‘But there are no roses in bloom,’ Lavinia reasoned, ‘there is no other way for me to gain entry. I must wait until the spring buds have awakened. Then I’ll find the best one, and rise up as the petals open, just as I did that other season.’

She remembered the last time she had sprung to life from the depths of a scotch thistle – it had been perfect timing. The sun was centered in the Highland sky and had coaxed her out just as the blooms unfurled.

‘I have a winter rose for you, Lavinia.’

The Voice seemed closer than before. She put her hands up to her ears and said, ‘No! Not until the spring. I’ve had my fill of cold climates. Can’t you see that?’

‘All will be revealed to you in time, but you must be obedient. Now collect yourself and mind you don’t get your wings caught. Let go of the cocoon. It doesn’t belong to you.’

Lavinia felt the cosy little interior give way to a star-filled sky. She hung on tightly to her pillow but a force was pulling her out and up. She felt somehow that it was omniscient; all protests were futile. She also felt a surge of well-being and love surround her. Yes, she thought, I must trust and be ready.

This was the last thing Lavinia remembered before awakening inside a winter flowering rosebud! Impatient to get going, now that she had set her mind on another adventure, she pushed on the soft inner lining and commanded, ‘Open up! I’m here!’

‘Not yet,’ said the rosebud. ‘The sun will be out tomorrow morning. I’ll open then.’

Lavinia peered through a tiny opening at the top of the rose and saw nothing but blackness. Left with absolutely nothing to do, she wrapped herself up in the rose’s inner lining and went to sleep.

***

Chapter 5

Noel, Noel

Celeste stood looking at her reflection in her papier mache mirror. Well pleased with her transformation, she said aloud, ‘Won’t Graham be surprised! It’s a shame Timothy won’t be able to see it.’

Timothy was staying with Graham. He found their gentleman’s flat quite to his liking. Granted it was not adorned with all the intriguing Victorian delights that resided in Celeste’s sitting room, but it would do for now. He nodded to Graham as the latter hurried out the door. Graham very nearly took a tumble on the slippery sidewalk. It had been snowing all afternoon. Timothy saw the potential accident coming as Graham began to lose his balance. ‘Steady on!’ he said quietly. His gaze was so intent that the sympathetic observer might think he willed Graham to right himself. He smiled as Graham straightened up. ‘Perfect weather for you, my good man,’ he called out as Graham climbed into the coach. ‘I’m sure our dear Celeste will love it – but it’s a bit chilly for my old bones. I’ll keep the home fires burning for you. And don’t stay too long,’ he added, ‘bad form.’

But we digress: Celeste had managed to straighten her masses of ginger curls with – what else but a red-hot iron! ‘I must be quite the sight right now!’ she had giggled, as she bent down with one side of her head resting on the ironing board. She had spread her hair out and flattened it, one side at a time. The result was long straight locks where her charming curls had been. She had Genvieve LaMontagne cut her a cherry-red velvet ribbon to match her gown so she could tie up her hair. A few pins later, and she had created a dramatic up-do.

Now for the dress! It looked exactly as she