And happy birthday to Samantha! Because Chapter 36 takes place on her birthday.
Chapter 1:
Chapter 35:
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Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 36
The following afternoon, Samantha and Harriet occupied a capacious window seat in the library and gazed out upon the pale gray sky. Samantha reveled in the shushing of mild rain outside the large casement windows. She dwelled upon the previous evening with the Montmorency twins.
Samantha’s smile wavered, as she recalled how she felt when Margot rested a hand on her shoulder. She knew it would be proper and convenient for her to be attracted to a male suitor. An alliance with a member of high society would protect her from Uncle Bradford.
Samantha brought her awareness back to the here and now. “I am so sorry to impose on your family, especially considering how unresponsive I am toward all these eligible men. To say nothing of the marriage proposals.”
“La, you brood so!” Harriet waved away Samantha’s apology. “Entirely too much, I must say. But these proposals… Oh, dear, the eligible men you mention must be Mr. Vidall and Mr. Osmard.”
“Yes, I know not why they proposed, considering my lack of encouragement.”
“What matters is that today is your birthday and you mustn’t tax yourself. You must enjoy tonight’s ball, not fret about suitors. I doubt anyone else will propose until after the ball. You can expect them to call on you a few times first.”
Samantha looked down at the neglected book in her lap. “I haven’t forgotten the men who proposed to me after the ball in July. I cannot see myself living with either of them for the remainder of my life. The notion is terrifying. Oh, dear, I fear I am too frank.”
“You speak with heart, dear.” Harriet rose and began pacing. “Perhaps I should consider marriage more carefully. I picture it as though I live in a fairy tale, with all my focus on a beautiful wedding.”
“Understandably. Many girls our age think like that.” Samantha turned to the gray sky outside the many-paned window. “Ah, if I could but move into Thyme Cottage immediately and no longer impose on your father. It makes me feel prodigiously guilty. Or if only Aunt Roseanna were still alive.”
“Your aunt? I do not know that would be so wonderful, considering what aunts are like.”
Thinking of Aunt Thirza, Samantha peered at Harriet, who stopped pacing and stood fluttering her hands. Samantha felt no affinity toward Aunt Thirza, but their meeting had been too brief for her to judge the woman’s character. “I realize an aunt is not the same as a mother. My mother and father were kind and loving. We were connected in a manner I never could connect with my aunt.”
“Oh, I cannot so much as speak openly with my aunts!” Harriet shuddered.
Samantha’s book slipped out of her lap and thumped on the floorboards. “Why is that?”
“Why?” Harriet knit her brow. “How could one speak openly with aunts? It simply is not possible.”
“It depends on the aunts. Admittedly, I confided little in my aunt. I could not speak about deeper things with her. She was pragmatic and lacked Sensitive powers, but she was kindly and loving to me. Well, loving to the extent of her ability.”
“My aunts are extremely… formidable. You might even say disapproving.”
Samantha recalled the stern but quiet Aunt Thirza. “I see. Are your aunts… perhaps… unkind?”
Harriet hung her head. It occurred to Samantha that this might be a forbidden topic.
Harriet approached a bookcase and began peering at spines. “I am inclined to think it ungrateful to judge them too harshly.”
“Can you recall any of your aunts saying anything kind or loving to you? Have they ever been generous with you?”
Harriet raised her head and spoke sharply. “What about your aunt? Did she ever protect you from your uncle?”
Samantha frowned. Her eyes rested on the gold-embossed novel in her lap, and she wished she were alone, lost in a novel. “No, but he did not beat me whilst she lived. Oh, dear…. Lately, I have considered that she was not as kind as I thought.”
Harriet lowered her voice, stepped forward, and leaned down over Samantha, whose hand she patted. “Let us not quarrel, Samantha.”
Samantha exhaled and relaxed her shoulders. “Yes… I suppose you are correct: Aunt Roseanna quietly let my uncle behave however he wished. He was always saying and yelling horrible things.” She rose and began scanning through the gothic novels.
Harriet snatched the book of poetry that she’d left untouched on the window seat. Samantha smiled faintly; Harriet had barely glanced at the book. Perhaps sensing it was time to broach a new topic, Harriet said, “People don’t consider me well-read. But I have read all these books.” She waved a hand at the bookcase of gothic novels.
Samantha’s smile widened. “Perhaps you should set aside gothic novels from time to time and read Fanny Burney instead. For that matter, I should do the same.”
“I declare, I should. Reginald would be impressed if I read Fanny Burney. He could tell his friends, and they would demonstrate newfound respect for me.” Harriet frowned and scanned a bookcase.
Samantha considered holding Harriet’s hand to comfort her. “Do they customarily seem disrespectful toward you?”
“I fear they all consider me silly and ignorant.”
Samantha smiled. “That sounds disrespectful indeed.”
“You should see them roll their eyes at me.”
Samantha’s smile disappeared, and she gazed off, saddened by this information. “Harriet dear, I hope you won’t be alarmed by this.”
“By what, dear? What could be more alarming than ghosts talking to you?”
“I am honestly not in love with Reginald. I know you wish—”
“La! Do not worry yourself. I meant merely to tease. Well, I did wish to see you two together, though I cannot see our father approving of you. No offense.”
“I take no offense. Well, I suppose I take no offense. But… I doubt I can fall in love with any man. The truth is… I am in love with Margot.”
Harriet stared at her and, holding two volumes, dropped inelegantly into a wing chair. “No, surely not!”
Samantha’s cheeks burned. She felt shaky and grasped tightly onto the edge of a bookshelf. “Yes, it is true.” The titles blurred before her.
Harriet pulled several books off a shelf. “I do remember a few girls infatuated with each other at Sidlecotte, but I thought those were mere romantic friendships, hardly comparable to the sensibilities between a betrothed couple.”
Samantha lowered her gaze to the floor and belatedly wished she hadn’t told Harriet, but maybe if she plodded on, Harriet would begin to understand. “I know not if she reciprocates my affinity. I have not taken the bold step of asking her.”
“I think I understand.” Harriet tapped her chin with one finger. “It is owing to your aunt and uncle’s marriage, is it not? You must think that is typical.”
“Oh, no—”
Harriet settled into an armchair with her stack of books. “It is understandable, but not all men are like your uncle, you know. Reginald, for instance, would be an amiable boy for you to marry. But then there is Roland Montmorency. Oh, yes, I could fancy him, if he weren’t… a bit frightening. I did fancy him a bit. What a fine profile. His nose is quite Roman. But I cannot fathom half the things he says. I fear I am quite out of my depth with him. But oh, I was talking about finding a boy for you, not for me.”
Samantha envisioned Margot and reflected that her nose was much like Roland’s. She blinked and focused on Harriet. “What if I do not want a boy? The world contains so much more, you know.”
“Well, I suppose so. All my life I’ve anticipated marriage. I daresay that is not likely to change.” Harriet raised her chin slightly.
“You need not change in that respect.” Samantha eyed the bookcase before her and stepped to a different one. “But you can refrain from applying the same standards to me.”
“Oh, come now. Roland would suit you. He would certainly suit you better than his sister.” Harriet giggled. “I don’t fancy the haut ton would approve of that sort of goings-on! I have heard it is open and acceptable in the lower classes, but it is practically unheard of in the aristocracy. They have affairs after marriage, of course.”
Samantha frowned. Both Roland and Percy were aristocrats. Both Percy’s parents were alive and surely wished for an heir, which meant he must marry a woman. But surely aristocrats could adopt heirs. She gave her head a little shake and returned her attention to Harriet. She said, “Oh! I did not know.”
“Reginald said it. According to him, you can marry a wealthy man and have a woman on the side. It is quite scandalous and shocking, but only if the wrong people find out.”
Samantha’s cheeks burned. “Not terribly appealing,” she said between clenched teeth. ‘It hardly sounds romantic.” She felt foolish and embarrassed for not remaining secretive.
“Odd’s bodkin, I fear I said something terribly wrong! If I have offended you, please forgive me.”
Samantha closed her eyes and exhaled. “I shall try. And please forget we had this conversation.”
“If that is what you wish.”
“No gossiping.”
“Not even at the ball?”
Samantha stared at her friend whilst her heart hammered.
“La! I jest.”
Samantha and Harriet read in silence for half an hour before Margot and Roland entered the library. This was the first time Samantha saw them that day; upon clapping eyes on Margot, her face overheated. She nonetheless greeted the Montmorencys in a steady voice. Harriet fluttered her hands and cast wide-eyed glances between Samantha and Margot. Samantha scowled at Harriet, who quickly clasped her hands together and sank back into the wing chair.
After an exchange of greetings, the Montmorency twins approached separate bookcases. Samantha resumed scanning the bookcase, although she had a small stack of carefully selected titles. She hoped Harriet would be discreet enough to not divulge any of their conversation. She observed Harriet narrowing her eyes at Margot and eying her up and down, from her top knot to her bottle-green coat to her breeches and boots.
Margot paused in her own perusal of titles. “I met a cluster of entities in the corridor.”
Harriet widened her eyes. “Entities?”
“Yes.” Margot smiled and turned to look directly at Harriet. “This is quite a lively household on a spiritual level.”
Roland raised one eyebrow and pulled a book off a shelf. “In my brief experience of Claverton Castle, I often hear peculiar noises, more than the minor squeaks, creaks, and groans of an old house settling.”
Margot opened a book without looking at it. “I certainly heard fascinating noises in the hallway outside my bedroom last night. An un-haunted house that is merely settling does not sound like echoing, ghostly footsteps moving rapidly down the hallway or around a bedroom.”
Harriet widened her eyes and rose. “Now, I think we should prepare ourselves for the ball.” She headed toward the door. “I do so love attending a ball!”
Samantha settled back on the window seat and watched Harriet. “Do you not find it too early? It is but five o’clock, and the ball does not begin until seven.”
“No, it will take quite a while for me to prepare. I shall have an elaborate hairstyle. You’ll see!” Harriet traipsed out the door.
Margot watched until Harriet was out of sight. “What a…vivacious girl.”
Samantha felt as though her limbs were rubbery. She kept mentally repeating Harriet’s dismissive words and suspected that if she had confided in the Montmorencys, they would’ve been more supportive... if the object of her affection were not Margot. Samantha eyed the twins, both with heads bowed before tomes, and decided this was not the time to reveal such information. She resumed reading.