Chapter 1:
Chapter 51:
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Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 52
Harriet cast nervous glances toward Roland and Samantha. “I declare, the dogs seem quite mad with excitement today. Did they miss their noonday constitutional, Father?”
“The front gate is closed,” Mr. Prendregast said. “I should allow them to roam free in the courtyard. Ewen!” The footman stepped up and stood beside his master’s chair. Samantha blinked. “Take the dogs out.”
“Yes, sir.” Ewen bowed. Briefly glancing toward the swarm of spirits, Ewen called to the tail-wagging Border collies, but they ignored him and kept staring up at the apparitions and wagging their tails.
Ewen approached the dogs and tugged on their collars whilst saying more coaxing words. The dogs cooperated for a minute before stopping for the ghosts, and Ewen again tugged on their collars. This process repeated until at last the footman and the dogs crossed the threshold, and after a brief glance at the ghosts, Ewen firmly shut the door behind him. The dining room fell silent. Samantha, no longer distracted by the canines, resumed gazing at the swarm of specters.
Mr. Prendregast stabbed his food with a fork. “It is preposterous how they’ve been behaving at dinner lately.” With a rustle of pages, he lay his book open upon the table.
Reginald frowned and shook his head. “Dogs with bad table manners. La! What is the world coming to?” His father cast a glowering stare upon him, and Reginald bowed his head and concentrated on eating.
The apparitions remained as animated as they had with the dogs chasing them. The dogs, Samantha observed, apparently had little effect on the ghosts, who might be excited with the knowledge that they’d soon be saved. Someone other than Samantha and a pair of canines was paying attention to the spirits after all these years.
Roland glanced at Mr. Prendregast who was reading, then leaned slightly toward Samantha. “The ghosts of this house have adamantly indicated that they wish to communicate with someone or other.”
“Do all ghosts wish to communicate with the living?” Reginald asked. “You’d think they would be a bit more talkative.”
Harriet added, “You’d think they would wish to talk to more people, instead of leaving us out.”
“Snubbed by dead ancestors!” Reginald shook his fork in midair. “La, I like that!”
Mr. Prendregast looked up from his book. “What nonsense are you gabble-mongering about, boy?”
Reginald kept his eyes on Roland.
Harriet leaned toward Roland and stared at him. “I suppose that’s why the dogs were so terribly excited. Are the ghosts very active now?”
“Ghosts!” Mr. Prendregast snapped.
Samantha wiped her lips. Her heart fluttered, and she glanced at Mr. Prendregast. “They have been active throughout this entire meal. I believe Roland makes them feel honored.”
Roland frowned. “Sensitives are particularly attractive to ghosts, since the spirits have a chance of conveying their message. Aside from spirits that are echoes, and spirits that do not know they are dead and are in denial, ghosts tend to be present owing to their yearning to communicate with the living.”
Reginald raised his eyebrows. “Gadzooks, I’ve never heard you, Mr. Montmorency, say so many words in one breath! Now you’ll have to retire to bed early, like your sister, owing to your exhaustion from so much speech!”
Mr. Prendregast, scowling, turned a page. “Mumbling boy. I could not understand him one bit.” Samantha exhaled and hoped Mr. Prendregast’s ears were congested.
Reginald smirked. “What’s that, Father dearest? Who was mumbling?” He received naught but a glare from his father.
Roland pouted and withdrew into silence, as he focused on his glass of water. Siding with Roland, Samantha glared at Reginald, who smirked and shrugged at her before turning to Harriet. “I remember that play, about the ghost of a mad king.”
Samantha cleared her throat and, satisfied that her host seemed concentrated on reading, she turned to Reginald. “To answer your question: I do not believe spirits of the dead always consciously wish to communicate with the living.”
Roland nodded and set down his water glass. “Some ghosts are aware of the living and reach out to them, but others are oblivious. Nobody knows why they are so inconsistent.” Both he and Samantha looked sidelong at Mr. Prendregast; they hadn’t plotted out how to confront him about his family’s phantoms.
Samantha watched the brumous ghosts. Part of the mist drifted toward the floor. As had happened previously, this portion of cloudy phantoms gradually formed Gertrude, who looked more solid than previously.
“Good afternoon, Gertrude.” Roland’s full attention was on the most solid apparition.
Out of the corner of her eye, Samantha spotted Mr. Prendregast, but his tome had his full attention. Harriet and Reginald, sitting closest to their father, exchanged a glance and continued to prattle on, albeit in a somewhat stilted manner, to cover up the supernatural conversation.
“Good afternoon, sir.” Gertrude curtseyed to Roland.
Samantha stared. Fearful of seeming rude, she also nodded and greeted the little ghost. After a dismissive wave of Mr. Prendregast’s hand, the butler and footmen slipped out of the room with faint footfalls.
Roland still gazed directly at Gertrude. “I trust you will soon be laid to rest.”
Gertrude said, “I fear being laid to rest. It is… change. But I have been trapped here a long time and know I must move on.”
“Good evening, everyone.” Margot stood in the doorway.
Samantha’s heart leaped when she saw Margot. She smiled and barely stopped herself from clapping. Roland and Reginald stood, and everyone greeted Margot. Margot sat down across from her brother, so the young men also seated themselves. Mr. Prendregast, on the other hand, didn’t stand on ceremony or notice Margot.
Taking advantage of her proximity to Gertrude, Margot whispered, “Good girl. You are very brave.” Though Reginald and Harriet continued chatting about a play they saw in London, Mr. Prendregast finally espied Margot and knit his brow.
Roland added, “It is possible you may experience a better rebirth next.”
“I do not wish to remain in this world, even in a different life,” Gertrude said. “It is too terrible, too harsh and unkind.”
A lump formed in Samantha’s throat. She gulped and squeezed her eyes together tightly. She hadn’t ever considered this world in that manner, despite the suffering of her parents’ deaths and her uncle’s abuse. She desired to live and to affect this world, if only through art… and love. She glanced at Margot and felt her cheeks warm.
Reginald lifted his glass. “What was that?”
Harriet glanced at her father before leaning toward her brother. “They’re speaking to a ghost, silly. Even I know that.”
Reginald put down his glass with a thump against the table. “Well, aren’t you quite the all-knowing one.”
Samantha kept her eyes on the apparition.
Mr. Prendregast stabbed a potato. “What foolish children I have! I’ll hear no more talk of ghosts, even if it is only in a play. I should ban you from seeing any more such plays!”
The footman Ewen had far better hearing than Mr. Prendregast; he returned, left the pantry door wide open behind him, and directed a floating glass of water toward Margot.
This caught Mr. Prendregast’s attention, and he narrowed his eyes at Margot. “This is highly irregular, young lady, arriving so late.”
“Please excuse me, Mr. Prendregast,” Margot said. “I had a headache and required rest. It is entirely gone now.”
“Very well.” Mr. Prendregast softened his tone. “Do you wish to skip the first courses and go on to the pie?”
Margot smiled. “Yes, that would be splendid.” In a matter of seconds, a pie on a plate flew to Margot’s place. Quickly following it, a set of utensils flew across the room from a sideboard. Samantha cringed when she saw the knife flying.
“I hope you can help me,” Gertrude said. Samantha watched a glass of wine glide to Margot and land on the table with the faintest thud. “But that is not all with which I need help.”
“As I suspected.” Margot drifted her gaze in the general direction of Mr. Prendregast without turning her head. She faced away from him and toward the little ghost.
Mr. Prendregast turned a page; Samantha listened to it rustle. He peered with a knit brow at each of the young people sharing his table. “What is this nonsense you speak?”
Samantha grasped the napkin in her lap and gulped down her apple sauce. She’d hoped Harriet and Reginald would keep distracting their father.
Harriet started to flutter her hands about and hid them under the table. “Er… Father, we saw more than one play about a ghost, you know.”
Mr. Prendregast frowned at his daughter. “I recall but one, and it was absurd.”
Gertrude gazed unblinking at Margot. “I know you have been attempting to contact me. I know you were with me last night.”
Margot nodded slowly without looking at the ghost. She began slicing her pie.
Reginald dabbed at his lips. “La, I do believe the old paterfamilias slept through the other play!”
Watching Gertrude, Samantha said, “I rather think she succeeded in contacting you.”
Mr. Prendregast, annoyed, thudded his fist against the table. Harriet, Samantha, and Roland jumped. “It seems quite as though I am hearing but part of the conversation.”
“We are speaking with entities you cannot see,” Roland explained.
Samantha froze and stared at Roland; this wasn’t how she imagined informing their host. Harriet widened her eyes and shook her head at Roland in warning. Samantha frowned and wondered if he truly thought this was best. He surely comprehended how difficult Mr. Prendregast would be.
“Oh, dear, I fear we are remiss in our manners.” Margot’s upper lip twitched. “We should not leave our host out of the conversation like this.”
Everyone peered at Mr. Prendregast’s book. He scowled, opened his mouth as though to defend his breach of etiquette, and shut his mouth but not his book.
“Do recall that Mr. Prendregast doesn’t believe in ghosts,” Samantha murmured.
“Considering the circumstances, I fear he must change his beliefs,” Margot said. Impressed, Samantha raised her eyebrows.
“Is this a madhouse?” Mr. Prendregast asked. “Ghosts here? It is too absurd! This is reality, not a play. You are all fools and lunatics!”
Samantha watched Gertrude slowly returning to her previously inchoate substance. She transformed into mist and floated back up to the ceiling, joining the other apparitions in what Samantha now thought resembled a storm cloud.
“I fear you may be correct, Father,” Harriet said. “We are all quite barking mad.”
Recalling the excited canines, Samantha smiled. Reginald said, “Woof, woof!”
Mr. Prendregast snapped his book shut and glared at his son. “Enough of your childishness, Reginald!” He turned to Samantha. “I have heard quite enough of shades and faeries since you arrived, girl!”
In reaction, Samantha felt surprisingly calm. With curiosity, she observed her equanimity and guessed the Montmorencys influenced her. Mr. Prendregast was the only one who didn’t take ghosts seriously; he was in the minority. Samantha felt great relief to have this out in the open at last.
Mr. Prendregast tossed down his napkin and rose. “I’m off to the library now. You young people, do what you will.” Book tucked under his arm, he stomped out and firmly shut the door behind him in an almost-slam.
Harriet squeaked and clasped her hands together whilst widening her pupil-dilated eyes. Samantha reached toward her and patted her hand in sympathy.
Reginald grinned. “Oh, it is nothing to trouble yourself about, Harriet! Paterfamilias is merely stubborn.”
Harriet continued clasping her hands. “I don’t see him ever believing in the ghosts that are right under his nose, never mind that I don’t see them myself. What can we do to convince him?”
Margot clicked her fingers. “We must not tarry. I fear that Mr. Prendregast’s belief may be crucial in setting the ghost of Gertrude free.”
“Why is that?” Reginald asked.
Margot dabbed at her lips. “She is his sister. His disbelief indicates that her ghost is failing to connect with him. This may be a greater barrier than we realize.”
Everyone silently made eye contact around the table. Nobody smiled. Samantha’s ears took in the crackling and hissing on the hearth. Harriet and Reginald simultaneously pushed their chairs back. The scraping of the chair legs on the wooden floor startled Samantha.
Harriet stood and fluttered her hands about. “I declare—”
Reginald also stood. “It is time Harriet and I hedge off to join our father.” He pushed in his chair. “He must be terribly lonely, enjoying his solitude. I mean without us. Er, do excuse us, what, what.”
Harriet fluttered her hands about. “He means we should leave you Sensitives to the task at hand.” Both Harriet and Reginald left the dining room, whilst the others remained silent until the door clicked behind them.