Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 33
Greetings! This chapter is from Harriet’s perspective. Unlike Charis, Harriet means Samantha no harm.
But first… here’s the start of a gothic horror story I wrote in response to a writing prompt, which was simply the word “hasten.” Unlike some of these writing prompts, I developed this one into a short story, which was published under the title “Starless Night” in Sirens Call Magazine, Spring 2022, 57zine issue, http://sirenscallpub.com/ or http://www.sirenscallpublications.com/pdfs/SirensCallEZine_Spring2022.pdf
She wished she could hasten to the abandoned mansion on the hill. But the bag she dragged behind her was heavy. Her arms felt sore from dragging it. She was out of breath and stopped behind a rhododendron tree to wipe her perspiring brow.
The mansion hadn’t been occupied in thirty years and was boarded up with “No Trespassing” signs. The tree was at the base of the hill.
She gazed up the grassy slope and calculated what route she’d take. She saw a plateau and figured that would be a good place to stop and rest next, barring any vehicles driving past with their brights on. This mansion was out in the middle of nowhere, undoubtedly an old Craftsman farmhouse.
She and her sister owned a little red wagon when they were children. She now pictured placing this heavy bagged burden in such a wagon, but the corpse would be entirely too large and awkward. At least the body of her sister’s rapist was contained in a bag. She didn’t have to worry about arms flailing or hanging or, Goddess forbid, hitting her while she dragged the corpse up the hill.
His name had been Charlie.
Fortunately, it was dark out and the moon was a narrow crescent, so if anyone walked by, they wouldn’t see the bloodstains on the bag or get suspicious because it was roughly the size of a dead man. Of course, this was such an out of the way place in rural Oregon—she wasn’t too concerned.
Chapter 1:
Chapter 32:
https://open.substack.com/pub/whimsicalwords/p/hauntings-of-claverton-castle-chapter-6ce?r=5m2is&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 33
“Samantha’s birthday is coming up, you know, Father.” Harriet settled down near her father in the drawing room. His feet were propped up on his favorite footstool, and he was reading the Times. She disliked interrupting his reading but couldn’t miss an opportunity for a ball. She glanced toward the pianoforte, where Samantha was busy playing a lively tune that, Harriet assumed, was loud enough that her friend wouldn’t overhear the conversation.
Samantha stopped playing. Harriet turned toward her friend, who appeared to be writing musical notes but was probably eavesdropping. “It is the fifteenth of September. I remember celebrating it with her at the boarding school.”
Her father rustled his newspaper. “Why the blue blazes are you interrupting my reading about that, you silly girl?”
“I thought you might wish to entertain our guest with a birthday ball. It would be another opportunity for one or both of us to become engaged.”
Father peered at Harriet over his spectacles; she ceased breathing. He lowered his newspaper. “Very well. We shall most certainly celebrate with a ball. What age will she be turning?”
Harriet exhaled. “Seventeen.”
“All the more reason to marry her off. An orphan like that.” He shook his head and glanced toward Samantha, who put her fingers back on the keys and began pounding out a waltz. Harriet smiled and recalled her own mother, of whom she knew little, since she’d been a mere infant when her mother died. She brushed that aside, thinking it better to consider the future.
Harriet clasped her hands together and peered wide-eyed at her father. “The Montmorency twins can attend. They were our houseguests for such an unfortunately brief time. I do so enjoy Mr. Mont—I mean their company, as does Samantha. It would be positively delightful if they could attend the ball.” Harriet bit her lip. She pictured Roland rather than both twins. She suspected that Samantha valued Margot more than herself.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Father practically muttered. But he had pen in hand and reached for a sheet of stationery and immediately began writing a letter. Harriet resisted the temptation to hop up and down; instead she clasped her hands together. “We can entertain quite a few houseguests,” he added. “Bit of a nuisance—they always fill the house with noise—but perhaps even you will finally meet your future husband at this ball.”
“Oh, I should hope!” Harriet clapped her hands before reminding herself to behave decorously. She reached into her work basket for clothing to mend. She pulled out a shift and began working.
Her father continued scratching away at the paper. “Perhaps you’ll have the decency to marry this Montmorency boy you admire so much.”
Harriet’s cheeks became very warm and, the shift dropping into her lap, she fluttered her hands about and cast her eyes about the room for a distraction. She wondered if it were possible to be infatuated with two men at once. Her infatuation with Roland began when they met at the Assembly Rooms, and she met Darius in London. Both put her thoughts into a pother and her heart into palpitations.