If 61 seems like an awful lot of chapters, keep in mind that with the one exception of Chapter 1, the chapters are short.
Pride Month went by too quickly, but I mainly celebrated by reading queer books and wearing Pride t-shirts, both of which are easy to do all year round. Well, okay, easy where I live.
Meanwhile, July is another Camp Nanowrimo month. It’s a good thing that I’ll just be revising an old manuscript, because I haven’t done any preparation… such as writing an outline and character charts.
Chapter 1:
Chapter 30:
Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 31
After dinner in the servants’ hall, Gwydion heard a tap at the door and opened it. In the hallway, Miss Samantha Ponsonby stood, looking down the corridor whilst tucking what appeared to be a letter into her bodice. Gwydion glanced away; he must have opened the door sooner than she had anticipated.
Miss Ponsonby turned and smiled directly at him and flushed slightly. Gwydion raised his eyebrows. The gentry never visited the servant’s hall. Behind Gwydion, the other footman floated plates from the table and toward the kitchen, from whence dishes clattered and voices chattered.
Miss Ponsonby cleared her throat. “Excuse me, footman. I am sorry. What is your name?”
Gwydion bowed and stood blinking at her. “I-I am Ewen, Miss.”
“Might I have a word with you?”
Gwydion gulped, surprised that this genteel houseguest would show interest in a servant. The young lady appeared so proper and until now had behaved as a respectable young lady should—aside from her arrival at dawn. He wondered if she wasn’t quite as she presented herself. Upon first seeing her, he’d noted her androgynous height and build; she could disguise herself as a boy.
Miss Ponsonby clutched her hands together and bit her lip. With a slight flutter of panic, Ewen wondered if this houseguest had figured out his secret. He glanced back at the other footman, Barrowman, who paused to give Gwydion an inquisitive knitting of eyebrows. Gwydion turned back to Miss Ponsonby. “If you please, Miss, might we step into the hallway first?”
The houseguest nodded and backed away from the door, allowing Gwydion to cross the threshold and shut the door quietly. The hallway was narrow and lit only with a few wall sconces. It felt too intimate.
Miss Ponsonby cleared her throat. “I understand you are a powerful Sensitive, judging by how you gracefully levitate objects to the table without so much as spilling a drop of soup.”
Gwydion felt his cheeks warm and bowed his head. “I am a Sensitive, Miss, ‘tis true. But I wouldn’t say powerful.”
“Gracious, you are too modest! Such powers of levitation are extraordinary.”
Gwydion half-smiled and shrugged. “That is an important part of my work, though I’m given to understand some servants carry dishes manually, depending on the household.”
“Is this the only household in which you have worked as a servant?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Ah. But I wonder… I am also a Sensitive, as you may have observed…”
“Yes, Miss, I have noticed.”
“Splendid. My Sensitive power is trivial compared to yours. That is, the only power I have is that of sensing ghosts. I see and hear them and sense their presence.”
“Yes, Miss. That is impressive.”
“Ah, you are generous. Do you have the ability to sense ghosts?”
Gwydion gulped. “Well, Miss, the truth is… yes, I have.”
“Then you must understand what I am experiencing! This house has so many ghosts.”
Gwydion lowered his shoulders and smiled slightly. He sensed he’d connected with Miss Ponsonby. He glanced toward the closed door behind him. “Yes, it has, Miss.”
“I hope I may ask you a bit about the family.”
Gwydion regarded her flushed cheeks and wondered what embarrassed her. He briefly wondered if Miss Ponsonby was besotted with him; she would not be the first, but his aloofness discouraged affection, which would flatter him. But he considered the intimacy of lovers impossible without revealing his deepest secret.
Miss Ponsonby continued, “I understand you are in a position that requires discretion and secrecy.”
Gwydion’s heart fluttered, and he stepped away. He wiped his perspiring palms on his knee-breeches and wondered if she was adept at thought-reading, despite her claim that her Sensitive powers were limited to awareness of spirits. “What can you mean, Miss?”
Miss Ponsonby cleared her throat. “I’ve no interest in disrupting the running of this household or creating, er, factions amid the staff. You need not answer my questions, but please consider that I wish to help the family heal, not continue stunting themselves and immersing themselves in denial. Understand?”
Gwydion raised his eyebrows and gazed at Miss Ponsonby. The word “healing” caught his attention. “Not entirely. Healing from what, Miss?”
“I have… communicated with ghosts in this house. One of them told me a secret.”
Gwydion inhaled a sharp intake of breath and widened his eyes. The apparitions must communicate with her more clearly than with him. Miss Ponsonby must have noticed his sudden interest. He realized he was leaning toward her. “What have they been saying, Miss, if I may ask?”
Miss Ponsonby raised her eyebrows. “Do you see the ghosts yourself?”
“I see them, Miss, and they try to speak to me. But I cannot hear them. All I hear is the sobbing.”
“Sobbing?”
“Yes, Miss. On the second floor, down the hallway.”
Miss Ponsonby nodded and gazed off into the distance.
“What is this secret, Miss? Surely it is not so grave.”
“I am concerned about the secret around the death of Harriet’s mother. And all these ghosts floating about—one of which speaks of child abuse. I must wonder if Mr. Prendregast is a violent man.”
“No, no, Miss!”
“Please forgive me. I realize they are terrible utterances against my host. Yet I cannot help wondering.”
“I assure you, Miss Ponsonby—”
The houseguest smiled. “That is the first time you said my name. So you do pay attention.”
Gwydion felt his cheeks grow warm, and he lowered his eyes to the stone floor. “I-I… that is, I don’t believe Mr. Prendregast capable of physically harming anyone. Miss, you would do best to forget such notions.”
“You yourself have witnessed a ghost sobbing. Might that ghost indicate something appalling about this family’s history?”
“I-I see the weeping ghost more as an individual, Miss. A terribly sad yet deceased individual.”
“I see. Yes, that is reasonable.” Miss Ponsonby brought her attention back to Gwydion’s face and smiled. He admired her smile. “A child ghost named Gertrude confided in me, and I regularly see a grown woman as a ghost. As a Sensitive like myself, surely you understand how troubling I find all this. I see many more than two ghosts, though only one spoke to me.”
“Miss, you have most certainly convinced me that you mean well in your inquiries.” Gwydion nonetheless shifted his position. He wished to avoid telling her too much.
“Thank you! I am glad. Do any servants remain who have worked here for a very long time, perhaps since Mr. Prendregast was young?”
“Er…Indeed, Miss.”
“Who would that be? Might I speak to them?”
Gwydion gulped and cleared his throat. “The only servant fitting that description is the housekeeper, Mistress Charis Dunn. She’s older than Mr. Prendregast and has been in the family since she was… sixteen, I believe.”
Miss Ponsonby nodded slowly.
Gwydion felt reassured that she was kind, not patronizing like some previous houseguests. “If I may be so bold, miss… what have the ghosts said?”
“Distressing things about the family. I wish to confirm, since I’ve heard of malignant spirits that tell falsehoods to people and try to frighten them.”
Gwydion heard whispers flying close to the ceiling. He glanced upward, and she followed his gaze and widened her eyes. Gwydion kept his eyes on a gray cloud near the ceiling. “I doubt such malignant spirits are common.”
“Perhaps not.” Miss Ponsonby smiled. “Do you suspect Charis Dunn of knowing much about the family?”
Gwydion raised his eyebrows. “Oh… perhaps. I don’t know.”
Gwydion recalled seeing Charis counting a remarkable quantity of coins; when she belatedly noticed that he had stepped into her parlor, she snapped at him. “What is it, Gwydion? You should knock first.”
“Sorry, ma’am, but I did knock.”
“Very well then. What is it?”
On another occasion, he noticed that when Dunn was about to leave on her day off, she wore a new black sateen frock and matching bonnet, and she carried a surprisingly elaborate reticule. Even a high-ranking servant would not likely own such items on less than forty pounds per annum.
Gwydion blinked at Miss Ponsonby. “I suspect Mistress Dunn is paid handsomely for a housekeeper.”
Miss Ponsonby’s mouth hung slightly open in astonishment.
“I haven’t received a raise in—please, Miss, I hope you’ll pardon me. I may be mistaken. Perhaps Dunn received a small inheritance recently.”
“Pray don’t worry about it.” Miss Ponsonby clasped her hands together. “I know you can’t hear the ghosts, but… have you learned anything from them?”
“The master doesn’t know that I see ghosts. Apparitions open their mouths whilst looking at me, as though they wish to speak.”
“They attempt to communicate with you.”
“Precisely. My Sensitive powers are weak on that score.”
Miss Ponsonby smiled kindly. “Now, about Mr. Prendregast. I don’t recommend you tell him about the ghosts. He doesn’t believe in them.”
Gwydion felt his cheeks burn. “Please, Miss, I don’t wish Mr. Prendregast to know about this talk.”
“No doubt you must tread very carefully with Mr. Prendregast. You never know when he will blow up.” Her green eyes twinkled. Embarrassed, he looked at the ghost cloud. The houseguest lowered her voice. “Do you think it would be worthwhile to inquire with Dunn about the family’s past? If Mr. Prendregast is paying her to remain silent, she probably won’t answer my questions.”
“You could try, Miss, but I doubt she will confide in you.”
Miss Ponsonby bit her lip. “Maybe I can acquire some information from her, anything. Though I doubt the little ghost was deceitful, this would confirm that the stories are true.”
“You be careful, Miss.” Miss Ponsonby smiled, and Gwydion continued. “And… one more thing. I enjoy your musical talent, if I may be so bold.” He caught his voice trembling.
Miss Ponsonby’s smile was wider now and displayed straight, white teeth. Her large green eyes twinkled.
Gwydion felt his heart flutter. “P-please, Miss, do not tell anyone about this conversation.”
“Oh, I shall do no such thing. You have my word.”
“Barrowman saw me step out here with you. But… I shall come up with an explanation.”
“Yes, excellent. I would not wish this conversation to cost your employment.”
“Thank you, Miss.”