Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 27
On the morning after the ball, personalities clash at the breakfast table.
But first… here’s another satisfying vignette about Daffodil the Dragon:
Daffodil the Dragon in Amarillo, Texas
Daffodil the dragon now sprawls out on Judge Matthew Cocksmirk’s desk in a courtroom in Amarillo, Texas, where she just finished wreaking havoc. No humans remain in the courtroom. Some of the benches feature scorch marks from when she entered the room and breathed fire at power-tripping control freak misogynists.
After that breath of fire, Daffodil took advantage of the shocked state of a row of gawking misogynists—members of an absurd organization ironically called Alliance for Hippocratic Medicine… which should be called Alliance for Hypocritical Monsters. This organization formed right after the Christofascists of the supreme court mistook themselves for absolute monarchs and passed the Dobbs Decision, eliminating Roe v. Wade, allowing lawmaking misogynists to make abortion illegal in their shitstates. This Alliance of needledickbugfuckers—formed of several extremist organizations plotting together—exists exclusively for the sake of making medication abortion illegal across the United States. Nothing says “power-tripping control freak misogynists” better than this level of cruelty against people who have uteruses.
Rape and wife-beating are frowned upon nowadays. Therefore, toxic misogynists such as those in the Alliance for Hypocritical Monsters find it harder to get away with domestic violence… and must resort to creating laws that control and oppress women and marginalized genders on a large scale.
These misogynists are suing the FDA to… end their approval of mifepristone, the main abortion drug… despite the little detail that the FDA approved the drug in 2000 and has since then monitored it carefully. Everyone paying attention knows the drug is entirely safe and effective. It’s safer than Tylenol. But the Alliance for Hypocritical Monsters has been spreading lies, claiming the drug is dangerous and calling it “chemical abortion,” something that doesn’t exist. You know, just like “partial-birth abortion” never existed. Sixty percent of abortions in the United States are done medically, because it’s easier, less intrusive, and more convenient than surgical abortion and doesn’t even require an appointment—just a mailing address.
Daffodil keeps up with the news. She knew she had to do something drastic. She knew this organization would disappear as soon as they accomplished their sadistic goal of making mifepristone unavailable across the country.
While rows of misogynists gaped at her, Daffodil swung her tail and used the spike at the end of it to lop off heads. She took out an entire row in one swipe.
Many mortals began screaming and running for the exits. But Daffodil remained focused. She next turned to Judge Cocksmirk, whom she knows the orange toilet demon appointed as judge because he’s a white supremacist, anti-LGBTQIA+, and misogynistic fascist who used to run an extremist organization.
Daffodil swung her tail and lopped off Judge Cocksmirk’s head, too.
Now Daffodil uses a curtain rod as a shish kabab… through a row of misogynists’ heads. She opens her mouth wide and breathes fire on the heads, toasting them.
Chapter 1:
Chapter 26:
https://open.substack.com/pub/whimsicalwords/p/hauntings-of-claverton-castle-chapter-ea7?r=5m2is&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 27
In the breakfast room, espying Harriet sitting at the table with a heaping plate, Samantha felt too sleepy to do more than smile faintly in response to her friend’s greeting. She wished Margot and Roland had tarried long enough to enjoy this meal.
The sideboard was spread with covered silver dishes warmed underneath by small candles. Samantha did not envy the servants, rising early to do chores all day. She imagined the two footmen and the maidservants she witnessed using their powers to float the silver dishes to the buffet and set them down. At least their Sensitive powers made the work less like drudgery.
Samantha helped herself to mushrooms, eggs, tomatoes, and half a slice of toast before sitting across the table from Harriet. Though breakfast had cooled, she smiled as she inhaled the aromas emanating from her plate. Her mouth watered.
“I trust you slept well.” Harriet clutched her temple. “La, all that dancing! I do declare, it quite wore me out. Ugh, my head is aching so. I declare I drank entirely too much punch!”
Samantha raised her eyebrows and recalled her conversation with Harriet at the ball. “Yes, you did.”
“Notice Father isn’t up yet. Or maybe he is up and out somewhere already. I would not be surprised if he is hiding in the library. I didn’t see him dance much, but these social diversions wear him out.” Samantha envisioned Mr. Prendregast dancing with Fiona on her hind legs. “I wonder if I shall be so easily fatigued at his age.”
Trying to untangle Harriet’s monolog, Samantha gulped down mushrooms. “Actually—through no fault of my comfortable bed—I had a great deal of trouble sleeping. I woke after a mere three hours this morning and could not fall back to sleep.”
The corners of Harriet’s lips twitched. “Perhaps, could it be, that you’ve fallen in love with my brother?”
“Oh! I have not considered it.” Samantha picked up her cup of coffee and sipped.
Harriet giggled. “What a delightful match that would be! It would be perfect! My brother has plenty of money for both of you, and you’d secure yourself a home.”
Samantha hung her head. She wondered if she could convince herself to fall in love with Reginald. That would please Harriet and perhaps Mr. Prendregast. Samantha stabbed a potato and finally wondered how Reginald would feel about such a match.
“Oh, please forgive me, Samantha.” Harriet said. “I did not wish to distress you.”
“I know. Please believe that I am prodigiously grateful to stay here. Yet I am not grateful for your father’s attempts to control my life. I have four twelvemonths before I am of age and receive my inheritance, including the cottage. I do not wish to either marry hastily or impose on your family for that long.”
“I would not mind your staying with us another four years,” Harriet said. “But I should surely marry in that time, and you could live with my husband and me.”
“That sounds appealing. You will deem this shocking, but I have been considering making a living.” Samantha lifted her cup of coffee. “People are impressed with my musical ability. I could perform and compose music for a living.”
“You do have the talent to do that.” Harriet peered at Samantha and knitted her brow. “But I see what you mean about shocking. I do not know a bit about that sort of lifestyle. It hardly seems… stable.”
“Perhaps not, but I can try. I practice every day—you heard me in the drawing room. And I compose music regularly. Most of what I have been playing for your family has been of my own invention.”
“Odd’s bodkin! I had no idea.”
Samantha smiled, wondering how Harriet could not have known, after Mr. Prendregast chastised her for writing musical notes at the piano. Apparently, her friend had been too concentrated on a gothic novel.
“That is quite impressive. It is no wonder, then, that the Montmorencys are so impressed with your music. La, the way they joined you at the pianoforte! I was astonished, I must say.” Harriet giggled and leaned forward. “Odd’s bodkin, seeing you sitting beside Roland Montmorency at the pianoforte—”
“To make such a living, I might require a sponsor, such as the Prince Regent.”
“Yes, and that sounds next to impossible. You should not be averse to marrying for money.”
“Even if I do marry for money, it could at least be to someone I find tolerable—someone who is a friend.”
Harriet fluttered her hands around. “Yes, that is wise. I think altogether you are a wise person, if not the most practical. I mean no offense, but there it is. I suppose it is just as well—who in our station in life needs to be practical?”
“Your station in life, certainly. I may have to make a living.”
Harriet picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of potato. “La, if composing music is not sufficient, you could become a governess and teach children how to play the pianoforte. That seems like a dreadful way to live.”
“If your father throws me out, I would become a governess until I became of age and inherited the cottage my parents left me.”
“Well, unless you mar—”
“Would it not be a much better use of my resources to perform as a singer and musician?”
“Hmmm… I suppose that would be respectable enough. To be sure, I have not had musicians in my social circle.”
“You disapprove.”
“Oh… I said nothing of the sort. I am merely concerned that you would not receive sufficient funds, and you would have the doors of polite society slammed in your face.”
Samantha clenched her jaw. She pictured Margot and Roland, however, and knew they would never slam their doors in her face. Recalling Margot’s opinion of Samantha’s potential as a professional composer and musician, Samantha chuckled and let her fork ting against her plate.
Mr. Prendregast and his dogs entered the breakfast room. The girls became still but returned his uncharacteristically cheerful morning greeting. This startled Samantha so much that she impertinently stared at his tightly smiling countenance before she quickly looked away. She gulped her coffee until the cup was empty.
After Mr. Prendregast helped himself to breakfast, the dogs settled into their customary positions at Mr. Prendregast’s feet. He smiled at Samantha. She stopped in mid chew. He said, “I certainly noticed you, dear girl, showing a great deal of favor to that one very tall and handsome aristocrat. What was his name again?”
“Roland de Montmorency,” Harriet cooed.
Her father glanced at her with a slight frown, as though he disapproved of her speaking out of turn. “Yes, yes, of course.” Mr. Prendregast peered at Samantha. “Montmorency. That is the name. Yes, I should invite him and that peculiar sister of his to return as houseguest for considerably longer.”
“Why, thank you so much.” Samantha grinned and grasped her hands together. “That is very kind of you.”
“I should like that very much, too,” Harriet said.
“Yes, well, excellent,” Mr. Prendregast said. “Though I must say, Harriet, if you have designs on Sir Roland—”
“Mr. Montmorency,” Samantha corrected. “His father is a baronet and is quite alive.”
“—I do believe he is considerably out of your league.”
“I-I-never thought such a thing.” Harriet’s cheeks were bright again. Samantha wished to reach across the table and grasp her hand in sympathy.
Mr. Prendregast continued, “However, you, Miss Ponsonby, are most definitely not out of your league with Mr. Montmorency. He is of a higher station in life than yourself, but you have sufficient character, refinement, and intelligence that it hardly matters.”
The room was silent save for the crackle of the fire to fight the faint morning chill. Samantha realized her host was presumably expecting her to thank him. She didn’t relish doing so and felt stunned by his cruelty toward Harriet. She knew not what to do, but she wished to avoid inspiring him to perceive her as rude. Worse, she didn’t wish him to banish her from the house.
“Thank you, sir.” Samantha’s cheeks burned, and she bowed her head.