Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 21
The Prendregast family and Samantha have exciting guests!
Substack has strangely changed the way Substacks post. When I try to make both the paid version and free version post at the same time, I receive a message in red stating that the free content needs to post at least an hour after the paid content. So… the content for paying subscribers still appears at 4 pm, but the free content is emailed at 5 pm. I might change that to 3 pm and 4 pm….
Chapter 1:
Chapter 20:
https://open.substack.com/pub/whimsicalwords/p/hauntings-of-claverton-castle-chapter-a22?r=5m2is&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 21
A week later, Samantha, Reginald, and Harriet looked up from their various projects and books in the drawing room. The footman Gwydion Ewen stood in the doorway and bowed. “The Marchioness of Starcliffe and the Montmorencys have arrived, sir and misses. They await you in the parlor.” Samantha felt a flutter of excitement in her chest and jumped up with more enthusiasm than dignity. Harriet and Reginald raised their eyebrows. She felt her cheeks warm up.
Harriet tried not to grin. “Thank you, Ewen.”
Reginald grinned at Samantha. “Somebody is infatuated!”
Samantha frowned at him before walking too quickly to the door. Was what she felt for Margot infatuation?
The Prendregast siblings and Samantha stepped into the parlor and beheld Roland and Margot seated in armchairs by the fireplace. Across from them sat a diminutive golden-haired lady who appeared younger than her forty-three years; Samantha recognized her, the twins’ Aunt Callandra. The moment she espied Margot, Samantha felt another flutter of excitement. She gulped and glanced away. Upon seeing them, the three guests rose.
Samantha caught her breath; Margot was as beautiful as ever. Roland looked striking, too, clad in elegant black, as usual. Margot appeared as though she had crept into Roland’s dressing room and chosen some of his clothes rather than her own: a black frockcoat with a black and silver brocade waistcoat above black trousers and matching boots. Unlike Roland’s black silk cravat, hers was white linen. Harriet was the first to step forward.
That flutter in reaction to Margot confused Samantha. Wasn’t this, she pondered, how people felt when they were in love? Perhaps she was experiencing one of those infatuations she witnessed at Sidlecotte School. A foolish grin formed on her lips; she adjusted her facial expression to appear calm. She managed to shift her lips so they curled slightly upward. Glancing at Harriet, she hoped nobody other than Reginald noticed her excitement at seeing Margot.
After an exchange of greetings, Margot stepped forward with a smile and held out both hands to Samantha. “What a pleasure to see you, Samantha.” Margot grasped both of her trembling hands.
This certainly did not calm Samantha’s pounding heart. “I am delighted to see you again, too.”
“Yes, this is a charming surprise, and so soon after seeing you in Bath.” Margot released Samantha’s hands, and the latter pouted.
“I understand you are a houseguest here?” Aunt Callandra still stood before her chair. Samantha blinked at the older woman. She was quite beautiful, with alabaster features reminiscent of a classical Greek goddess and wearing a navy-blue traveling gown and bonnet. Roland towered more than a foot taller than she.
“Yes.” Samantha refrained from making contact with either of the Montmorencys. She bit her lip and cast her eyes down, resisting an impulsive urge to frankly inform the twins of her uncle’s behavior. They only knew that she found him intolerable and that he despised Sensitives.
Roland stepped forward until he stood beside his sister. Reginald slowly and silently meandered his way to the fireplace, and his sister stood fluttering her hands about.
Reginald, heavy-lidded, leaned against the fireplace and yawned. He slipped out his quizzing glass and used it to examine Roland. Samantha suspected he merely feigned boredom and was fascinated by the taller young man. “Alas, forgive our father for not joining us. I believe he is hiding in the library.”
Roland crossed his arms and gazed back at Reginald. “I can hardly judge him for that. I am fond of hiding in the library myself.” Everyone except Reginald sank onto comfortable furniture.
Samantha smiled. “As am I.”
Lady Starcliffe settled back into her chair. “It is a commendable pastime, though I am not very bookish. I leave that to my son, my niece, and my nephew. I would nonetheless be delighted to see this library and the rest of the estate.”
“This is a charming manor house,” Margot said. “It is so much older than most. I am quite accustomed to Palladian facades and rather more than two wings. And then there are the delightful Gothick manor houses, but I believe this one is literally gothic.”
Roland gave a short nod. “An original medieval manor house.”
Samantha recalled the Montmorency’s country estate, Goblin Hall, and their London townhouse, Akenside. If her memory was accurate, the townhouse was at least as spacious as Claverton Castle; it occupied the fashionable Mayfair neighborhood. As impressive as Claverton Castle seemed to Samantha, it must seem modest to Margot and Roland.
Reginald sniffed. “Pshaw, this old heap is hardly what I would call fashionable.”
“Reginald!” Harriet rose, walked up to her brother, and swatted his arm.
Reginald held up his hands defensively. “La, but it is home! Not to mention my inheritance, of course.”
Samantha’s thoughts drifted, and her vision became unfocused; she recalled how she first saw Claverton Castle… and how she arrived.
“Samantha?” Margot said.
Samantha quickly gave her head a little shake and blinked at her friend. Embarrassed at being caught staring off oddly, she felt her cheeks burning. “I was thinking about how strangely I arrived at Claverton Castle, and how proper your arrival is.”
“Our arrival is quite ordinary,” Lady Starcliffe said.
“Mine was not,” Samantha said. “Unlike yours, it did not follow the rules of convention.”
“What was so strange about your arrival?” Roland knit his brow as he peered at her. Samantha was, not for the first time, struck by his empathic emotions and exhaled with relief. He’d been like that even as a child; he’d been eleven years old when Samantha’s aunt and uncle took her away from Kent. Samantha knew the twins more as children than as these tall and stately twenty-year-old Sensitives.
Samantha glanced at Lady Starcliffe. Considering her coloring, one would expect her eyes to be icy blue, but they were warm brown, and her eyebrows were slightly raised with patient curiosity. Lady Starcliffe smiled gently. “You are in safe company.”
Samantha bowed her head and clasped her hands together. “It was…abrupt. It was shortly after my aunt’s death, you know.”
Margot reached forward and grasped her hands. “Yes. Our condolences again.” Samantha’s cheeks burned. Under Margot’s touch and with her physical closeness, Samantha felt weak-kneed and focused on Margot, as her surroundings otherwise seemed to fade into the background.
“You poor dear,” Lady Starcliffe said.
Out of the corner of her eye, Samantha caught sight of Harriet fidgeting and frowning. Samantha knit her brow a faction before returning her attention entirely to Margot.
“It isn’t so much that in itself,” Samantha said. “My uncle was always horrible, but he was unspeakably detestable after she died. I could not stay.” If she were alone with Margot, she’d be franker about what happened. A lump formed in her throat. She closed her eyes tightly and hoped nobody saw her tears. A chair across from her creaked; Roland leaned toward her in concern.
Margot kept hold of Samantha’s hands. She smelled faintly of lavender. Samantha imagined Margot wrapping her arms around her and holding her. But she reminded herself that others were present, and even if she were so bold, she desired no audience. Indeed, she had no reason to hope Margot returned her affections.