I plan to publish both The Vanquished & the Surviving (under a different title) and this novel, Claverton Castle, as paperbacks (maybe even hardcovers) and e-books. I haven’t gotten around to publishing Vanquished yet because I keep intending to paint a picture to use for the cover art. That’s one of the reasons I’ll cancel Whimsical Words after one year (on November 2, 2024)—it will be easier to focus on other projects and other ways of getting published. This year, I’ve rarely even submitted short stories to magazines or queried agents.
One more thing: the new title for Vanquished is The Eye in the Cauldron. It took an awful lot of brainstorming for me to finally come up with that title.
Chapter 1:
I plan to publish both The Vanquished & the Surviving (under a different title) and this novel, Claverton Castle, as paperbacks (maybe even hardcovers) and e-books. I haven’t gotten around to publishing Vanquished yet because I keep intending to paint a picture to use for the cover art. That’s one of the reasons I’ll cancel Whimsical Words after one year (on November 2, 2024)—it will be easier to focus on other projects and other ways of getting published. This year, I’ve rarely even submitted short stories to magazines or queried agents.
One more thing: the new title for Vanquished is The Eye in the Cauldron. It took an awful lot of brainstorming for me to finally come up with that title.
Chapter 1:
Chapter 64:
Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 65
Roland surveyed the entrance hall and considered leaving it without comment, since Margot and Samantha concentrated on each other, and his presence seemed intrusive. He cleared his throat and began backing away. Still in Margot’s arms, Samantha opened her eyes.
Roland briefly tipped his head to the side. “Have you ceased shivering, Samantha?”
Samantha blinked. “Yes, I have, thank you. I am only slightly cold, though I was uncertain I would recover.”
Samantha straightened her neck and raised her eyebrows with curiosity. She and Margot slowly and reluctantly released each other and stepped back. Roland noticed that Samantha’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes wandered the room as though she didn’t wish to make eye contact.
Margot peered at Samantha. “People fully recover from ghosts drifting through them, but your experience was excessive.”
Roland nodded. “I shall collect the sage and burn it at all the entrances.”
Samantha looked up. “Why do you need sage?”
Margot said, “It clears the ghosts and insures they know to not return here. It should burn at every entrance and every window, indoors and out.”
“It is similar to a banishing spell.” Roland approached a door to a corridor.
When he reached the tower stairs, he ran up two steps at a time. He stormed down the hallway without caring how much the floor creaked and how loudly his boots stomped. In his dressing room, he headed toward the archaic, carved cabinet in which Margot and he had stored potions and herbs. Throwing it open, he heard footsteps despite the creaking of the cabinet’s hinges. Gasping, Roland turned to see who entered the dressing room… and beheld his sister. His shoulders sagged in relief.
Margot smiled faintly. “I shall help with the sage.”
“Do you not wish to be alone with Samantha?”
“Soon enough.”
They reached into the cabinet and collected handfuls of bundled sage. Harriet had given them a tour of the manor house, so they had no difficulty walking with lighted sage bundles to every exterior door and window and placing sage at these locations.
They had no trouble, rather, until they entered the library, where Mr. Prendregast sat reading. He looked up from his book; Roland peered at the spine and failed to distinguish the title, but he doubted his literary tastes resembled those of Mr. Prendregast. Undaunted by the presence of their host, Margot walked clockwise around the room, waving burning sage.
Roland stopped before the master of the house and bowed. “Mr. Prendregast… I hope you are well.”
“I am well as can be after a fainting fit.” Mr. Prendregast snapped his book shut. “I could do with a spot of brandy.” He narrowed his eyes at Margot, who finished circling the room.
Roland handed Margot the few bundles of sage. Despite her armload, Margot didn’t stumble backward.
Roland approached the spirits cabinet and took out brandy. “I am sorry to find you in such a condition, Mr. Prendregast, but brandy and rest will help a great deal.”
Roland poured a glass and brought it to his host. “Allow me to ring for a servant.”
Mr. Prendregast accepted the glass. “Why, thank-you.” He observed Margot lighting one of the sage bundles by a far window. “Why, blast it, young lady, what are you doing? Setting the curtains on fire?”
Margot didn’t look up. “We are protecting your house from the possibility of the ghosts returning.” Roland joined her by the window and took one of the bundles. He lit it before carrying it to the next window. “It is unlikely to happen, for I am almost certain they have entered another realm. I believe they are now at peace. But we can never be too careful.” As she spoke, the twins finished lighting bundles of sage and placing them before the four library windows.
“Enough of this superstitious nonsense!” Mr. Prendregast sat up. The movement was too much; he flinched, clutched his head, and sank back into his chair. “I demand that you two and Miss Ponsonby depart as soon as possible.”
“We shall.” Roland turned away from the final window.
Margot strolled toward the door. “We must thank you, Mr. Prendregast, for allowing us to stay. It has been a delightful time.”
“Humph!”
Roland followed his sister and wondered if it were necessary to excuse themselves, under the circumstances. Margot solved the dilemma. “If you will excuse us, sir, we shall prepare ourselves to depart.”
Roland followed her out the door, closed it very gently, and exhaled. “Has he learned anything?”
“Apparently not.” They strode down the hallway. “Perhaps that was merely a stubborn display. He may be embarrassed about what we witnessed—his trance and fainting and admitting he is fallible.”
“I doubt it not. In truth, I feel a certain amount of consolation at the prospect of departing.” Roland pictured their manor house in Kent.
Margot smiled. “I do anticipate returning home to Goblin Hall.”
“Yes, it will be pleasant to reside at home and take a reprise from ghost hunting.”
“It might be a terribly short reprieve.”
Roland exhaled and rocked back on his heels. He felt exhausted from the effort and energy the ghosts entailed.
After they completed their circumlocution of the house, inside and out, Roland entered the hallway near the tower and heard footsteps. He pivoted and saw his valet, Herman, and Margot’s maidservant, Bridget, descending the stairs with Roland’s and Margot’s luggage. Behind them, Gwydion Ewen descended, carrying both Roland’s and Samantha’s portmanteaux. Herman paused and opened his mouth. He looked at Roland with knit brows.
Roland smiled ruefully and patted his shoulder. “We shall depart in a few minutes and ride all night.” Herman nodded and resumed walking with his hands full.
Roland stepped out of the servants’ path and charged up the stairs. He only spent enough time in his rooms to confirm Herman forgot nothing. His traveling cloak and a top hat lay on the bed, and he donned them. Satisfied, he headed back down the stairs.
He returned to the front hall, where the door hung open. Beyond it, he heard voices and saw movement. Outside, he joined Margot, Samantha, Harriet, and Reginald standing before the path to the door. The barouche adorned with the Montmorency coat of arms waited a few feet away. Mr. Prendregast’s apparent disinterest in seeing them off, combined with his demand that they depart, felt heavy in the air.
Descrying Samantha’s sheepishly lowered head, Roland smiled at her reassuringly. He walked toward her, and the crunching of gravel beneath his feet seemed louder than usual. “I hope you do not feel as though you are leaving in disgrace.”
Samantha smiled crookedly in return. “I do feel that way.”
Harriet stood beside Samantha. “I fear you were a bit too harsh to my father. He has taken an awful turn. For all his faults, you must allow he has been hospitable. He did allow you to remain here for nearly three months.”
“Yes, Harriet, I am acutely aware of that.” Samantha’s cheeks burned.
Roland blinked at Harriet and searched his memory for any way Samantha might have offended her. Wincing, he peered at the barouche, in which Herman, Bridget, and the two footmen were loading the luggage. Roland felt embarrassed for Samantha.
Samantha looked at Harriet and then at Reginald. “Please let us part as friends. What a pity that you could not have known your mother better.” She reached forward and grasped Harriet’s hand. Roland sagged his shoulders, as the tension lessened. “I suspect she would have kept your father in check and steered you, Harriet, toward more confidence.”
Harriet’s lip trembled, and she squeezed Samantha’s hand. “Quite possibly.”
Samantha bit her lip. “Perhaps I have been a terrible guest. Please forgive me—it was not intentional.”
“No, no, dear Samantha, pray do not say that!” Harriet fluttered her hands around. “Oh, dear, I made a frightful muddle of things. Please forgive me. We must part on amiable terms.” She reached out and grasped Samantha’s hands. “I regret that my father wishes you to flee immediately, but no doubt you understand.”
Samantha said, “Whilst I have gratitude for Mr. Prendregast’s hospitality, I dislike how he has treated you. I believe his heart is generous, never mind that he… knows not how to communicate in a pleasant manner.”
“Well said!” Reginald raised his quizzing glass. Mildly surprised to see Reginald use that glass on someone else, Roland shifted position.
Harriet fluttered her hands around for an instant before grasping them together. “It is most peculiar of me that I never acknowledged this about my father.”
“Yet now you do.” Samantha released Harriet’s right hand and placed her free hand on Harriet’s shoulder. “I am greatly relieved that you see this now, and I hope you will not allow him to continue treating you as he has.”
“I shall try.” Harriet smiled.
Roland nodded. “It goes against your training.”
Returning from the barouche, Gwydion Ewen knit his brow and gazed at the Montmorencys. His blue eyes silently pleaded.
“We promise to tell no one,” Margot whispered. Ewen whirled around toward Roland and raised his eyebrows. Roland nodded reassuringly. Ewen flushed and nodded. He gave Samantha the briefest glance and reddened even more.
The Montmorency twins and Samantha were about to climb aboard the barouche, with its four restless dark brown steeds stomping and eager to depart. Roland wished to give a suitable farewell and with a glance at Margot and Samantha sensed that they felt the same. They faced Harriet and Reginald.
The housekeeper, Charis Dunn, stepped out the door and approached the barouche. Roland frowned, wondering why her eyes were on Samantha, who frowned. The housekeeper kept walking until she stood a couple feet before Samantha.
Dunn gazed at Samantha. “I know about your uncle now. You have suffered.”
“Everyone suffers.” Samantha’s eyes strayed to Dunn's roughened hands. “Some more than others.”
Mr. Prendregast stepped outside and stroked one of the horses. Everyone else exchanged surprised glances. Roland observed Mr. Prendregast was trying to appear uninterested in the departing houseguests yet glanced at Samantha. Roland surmised it was all they could expect from one so unaccustomed to expressing emotions other than anger and annoyance.
Roland turned to Harriet. “Owing to our actions during the past sennight, the number of phantoms in this house has considerably lessened.”
“Lessened?” Harriet clasped her hands together. “Do you not think they have all left?”
Roland said, “We only know that one looking-glass ghost and twenty-eight child ghosts have left. It is possible you might have less active ghosts.”
Reginald whipped out his quizzing glass again. “Oh, I say! You must be bamming!”
Roland shook his head and hoped this was the last time he saw that quizzing glass.
Margot eyed the house. “Roland is correct. If anyone encounters more ghosts after we depart, please contact us.”
Reginald didn’t drop his quizzing glass. “Surely they all departed?”
Roland frowned thoughtfully. “Additional… victims are highly doubtful. We helped those we met move on. However, it is an old house and may have other spirits.”
Margot nodded. “Perhaps, for instance, a servant fell down a flight of stairs two hundred twelvemonths ago. However, we hope all the ghosts have passed on, either to the Summerland or their next rebirth.”
Roland added, “We have left sage at every entrance throughout the house—”
“Ha!” Reginald barked. “A house like this? You mean every entrance of which you are aware.”
Samantha gestured at the house. “The twins went everywhere, including the servants’ quarters and storage rooms.”
Reginald dropped his quizzing glass and grasped his lapels. “Supposing we find more ghosts, I doubt not our father would disapprove of your calling.”
Mr. Prendregast was stroking a horse’s nose. Roland watched him and wondered if their host would leave the horses and speak to his departing guests.
“I sense that… he may have had a change of heart.” With a helping hand from Roland’s valet, she stepped gracefully up into the barouche.
Roland faced Harriet once more. “Oh, yes. I suggest you sprinkle salt into all the corners of the house, or have servants do so, if you prefer.”
Harriet widened her eyes and fluttered her hands. “Odd’s bodkin, you do think we have more ghosts! Why else should we do that?”
Roland raised his hands. “It is merely a precaution. You can leave the salt there for a few minutes, but not long. Entities are attracted to that salt, and if more occupy the house, they will gather in those corners. You must then take all the salt and toss it outdoors.”
“That releases the ghosts,” Margot said from the carriage’s open window. She sat back and smiled beckoningly at Samantha. Roland took Samantha’s arm. Delighted to return home, his heart leaped up as he sprang into the carriage.