Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 9
Samantha meets Harriet’s father and again meets Harriet’s brother, Reginald. Their personalities clash.
Reginald frequently slips Shakespearean insults into conversation, much to his stern father’s consternation.
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Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 9
Mr. Prendregast was a broad and solid man in his fifties. His tanned and still-handsome face was long, with high cheekbones, but beginning to display jowls. He peered at Samantha through a pair of spectacles under bushy gray brows. As if to emphasize his eyebrows, his hairline receded. His partially gray hair ended at the shoulders, where it curled slightly. In contrast with his flamboyant son, he wore a black evening suit. His frown and unblinking stare inspired Samantha to gulp and cast her eyes down at the dogs.
“Thank you ever so much, sir, for allowing me to stay here with your family.” Samantha curtseyed again, more deeply. “I have been through a difficult time, what with my aunt’s death.”
Mr. Prendregast peered at her and frowned. “Who might you be, then, girl?”
Samantha froze. She hastily turned to Harriet and back to Mr. Prendregast. He sniffed and put his nose in the air.
Harriet stepped forward quickly and with melodramatic gesticulations. “This is my school friend, Samantha Ponsonby. Reginald and I happened upon her a mere fortnight ago when we visited Bath.”
Samantha bit her lip. “Forgive me for asking this, Mr. Prendregast, but were you not aware that I am staying under your roof?” She doubted Harriet would have kept quiet about it; perhaps her father had a failing memory.
Harriet fluttered her hands about as she approached a chair across from Reginald. “Surely, I told you about Miss Ponsonby, dear Father. Her aunt departed from this world, and she knew not where to go. Did I not mention Miss Ponsonby would be our houseguest?”
“Humph!” Mr. Prendregast frowned at Samantha. “No, I was not apprised of this situation. If you didn’t have such golden hair, like my late wife, I might be reluctant to harbor a minor like you.”
If Mr. Prendregast’s last comment was calculated to put Samantha at ease, it failed. She grimaced and cast her eyes down. She could not bring herself to look Harriet’s father in the eye. She gave both her friend and Reginald sidelong glances.
Mr. Prendregast added, “I might even have a good mind to throw you out.”
Samantha stiffened, and her heart raced.
“Father!” Reginald protested.
Mr. Prendregast waved him away. “A mere jest, child.” He remained standing by his chair. “A runaway, no doubt. I suppose you will next find a bridegroom and run off to Gretna Green. I shall wash my hands of you then, girl.”
Reginald clasped his hands together and, still standing, leaned slightly toward his father. “Please, Father, we took the liberty of inviting Samantha to stay here. She is an orphan and is no longer welcome in her uncle’s house in Bath.”
Samantha’s mind remained on elopement. “Sir, I uninterested in mar—elopement.”
Samantha glanced at Reginald. He emanated soothing energy, unlike his father. She wondered if he’d consciously cultivated calm over the years, to balance off his father’s presence. Perhaps marriage would be tolerable with—she blinked and lowered her gaze to the lounging Border collies. One of them looked up and thumped its tail.
Samantha recalled observing, in the Assembly Rooms, shadows under both Reginald’s and Harriet’s eyes, suggesting they had experienced rather more gaiety than necessary. Now they both appeared well-rested and rosy-cheeked.
Mr. Prendregast frowned. “If you aren’t interested in elopement, I must ask: who is your legal guardian?”
Samantha gulped. “When my parents died, my aunt, which is to say my mother’s sister, became my legal guardian. Since she is now… deceased… it falls to….” Samantha grimaced and cast her eyes to the floor. “My uncle.”
“Oh dear.” Mr. Prendregast clicked his tongue. “What a pity. Without permission from your uncle, you cannot marry in England. Unless you wait until you are twenty-one, you must marry in Scotland.”
With a faint scowl, Mr. Prendregast resumed sitting at the head of the table, and the three young people took their cues. Harriet sat straight across from her brother, and Samantha sank into the straight-backed chair directly beside Harriet. Thankfully, Samantha sat furthest from her friend’s father. She nonetheless gripped both arms of her chair.
Reginald cleared his throat. “Dear father, you might wish to wait until she has a prospective bridegroom before fussing over such matters.”
Samantha lifted her head and gave Reginald a grateful smile. Reginald had in fact not contributed a word of the original invitation nor of last night’s welcome. Harriet must have spoken alone with him before their father could object to Samantha’s presence.
“Very well, then,” Mr. Prendregast said to his son.
Samantha suspected Mr. Prendregast took Reginald’s word much more seriously than that of Harriet. Either that, or perhaps Reginald presumed the backing of both his sister and he would give Samantha more credence.
Two livery-clad footmen entered the dining room. Their eyes were wide and unblinking, as they waved their hands and used their Sensitive powers to direct stew and brown bread to the table and set down the plates before the Prendregasts and Samantha. Inhaling the scent of herbs in the stew, Samantha felt her stomach rumble and glanced around the table to ascertain whether anyone else heard. Nobody looked at her, to her relief. Tall glasses of water, which Harriet assured Samantha had been boiled, sat at each place, as did glasses of white wine. Samantha lifted her soup spoon.
Mr. Prendregast swiveled his somewhat shaggy head toward Samantha. “And how long, pray tell, do you plan to extend your stay at Claverton Castle?” Samantha dropped her spoon.
“Indefinitely.” Reginald cleared his throat gently. “Her uncle has, well, thrown her out.”
“All owing to her aunt’s death?” Mr. Prendregast stared at Samantha.
“Yes, sir.” Samantha knew that, strictly speaking, this was a falsehood.
Uncle Bradford might not have minded her company if she had cooked and cleaned for him and allowed him to punch her whenever he pleased. Samantha wished no stranger like Mr. Prendregast to know the humiliating details. It might tarnish her reputation; malicious gossips might imply that her uncle had ravished her.
Mr. Prendregast scowled and knit his brows at Samantha. “That is highly irregular behavior.” She gulped and lowered her eyes.
Harriet said, “Dear Father, you must understand: not all families are as bonded as ours.”
Samantha heard a snort emanate from Reginald. But when she looked at him, his head was bowed to his dish and he appeared perfectly serious.
Harriet glanced at her brother but continued speaking. “Samantha is a highly respectable young lady—her parents were genteel—and it is not her fault that her uncle is an uncaring and drunken brute. If he had his way, she’d sleep on the street until she came of age and acquired her inheritance.” She fluttered her hands but stopped when she noticed Reginald moving his head about, following the movement. Her hands disappeared under the table.
“A fine sight for the eyes and an heiress, eh?” Mr. Prendregast said. Samantha suppressed a grimace.
“Yes, it is so,” Reginald said. Samantha glanced in his direction through her eyelashes and considered mentioning that she was hardly a great heiress, since she could only expect three hundred pounds per annum.
“Now it seems I have two girls to marry off.” Mr. Prendregast smirked at Harriet, whose face reddened. She lifted her fork too rapidly. Samantha raised her eyebrows and stared at Mr. Prendregast. She felt stunned at his behavior toward Harriet, but she felt guilty for imposing on him.
Samantha gripped both chair arms. “I cannot express enough how grateful I am to you and your family for allowing me to stay here. My circumstances were dire.”
“Worry not, young lady.” Mr. Prendregast shook his soup spoon at her. Behind him, the butler nodded slightly at the two footmen, who promptly departed to a room beyond the far door, presumably a pantry. “You are not a burden here. We have space for you, and you will make a good companion for my daughter, who does not sufficiently appreciate residing in the country. If it is any consolation, my dear, you should be easier to marry off than Harriet. An entire London Season with no takers!”
Samantha stiffened in reaction to hearing Harriet diminished. Throughout their school years, Harriet had always struck her as not brilliant but charming. “She is but seventeen, as I shall be in two months,” Samantha said. “I am sure Harriet would be happy to attend the next Season in London.”
“Humph!” Mr. Prendregast cast his glaring, light brown eyes on Samantha. “She should have found a match the first time, if she was as pretty as she thinks she is! All those balls, soirees, picnics, evenings at the theater, and not one proposal. Not one in all that time!”
They ate in silence, and Samantha felt some consolation when the footmen re-entered and held their hands up in the air. With their Sensitive power of inducing objects to levitate, they directed pies through the air and caused them to settle onto the table in front of the family and their guest. Samantha watched in fascination, for her uncle was so hostile toward Sensitives that his servants rarely used such powers.
As soon as her pie settled before her on the tablecloth, Samantha resolved to focus on the taste of her food and nothing else. When her teeth sank into a flavorful mixture of broccoli, beans, onions, and potatoes, she closed her eyes.
Reginald said, “You can’t have expected Harriet to have anything to do with her lack of a fiancé, Father. It is not as though you would have approved of her proposing to a beau.”
“What nonsense is this, boy?” Mr. Prendregast glared at his son.
“Nothing, Father.” Reginald lowered his gaze and appeared to give his pie as much concentration as Samantha gave hers.
Samantha faced Harriet and said, “No matter how many eligible men you met, the only one who matters is the one with whom you fall in love.”
Harriet didn’t look up. “Yes, no doubt.”
“Fiddlesticks!” Mr. Prendregast stabbed his pie. “She met quite enough eligible men to be engaged by now! Love is hardly relevant.”
Samantha froze and stared wide-eyed at Harriet’s father before she rapidly turned away from him and resumed eating. She sank her teeth into a hot and tender morsel of potato.
Sipping her wine, Samantha regretted mentioning eligible men. The topic bored her, yet she was too timid to broach more stimulating subjects, such as literature or demonology. Such discussions must wait until Harriet’s father no longer occupied the same room as they. He struck her as someone who might wish to control the conversation.
Samantha imagined sitting with Harriet on a window seat in a library with a crackling fire and bookcases that stretched far, far away up to a ceiling so high she could not see it. Accustomed to Bath’s capacious circulating library, she felt eager to devote more time to Claverton’s library.
Mr. Prendregast wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin onto the table. “I wish to be alone now, not with foolish young people. I shall read in the library. Do not disturb me!”
“Yes, Father.” Harriet did not look up.
Harriet’s father rose, and the butler stepped back. Mr. Prendregast stomped toward the dining room door. He paused and surveyed the two Border collies.
“Come, Shadow! Come, Fiona!” The dogs, with wagging tails, began to follow Mr. Prendregast. Before they reached him at the threshold, they both cast their eyes toward a far corner of the dining room. Their tails drooped. Samantha gulped and followed the direction of the dogs’ gaze but saw nothing but shadows and a sideboard. She turned back to the canines; their tails ceased wagging, and they appeared unwilling to egress. “Humph! What happened to your devotion?”
Harriet, Reginald, and Samantha sat in silence until the door slammed behind Mr. Prendregast. The butler pushed in his chair, looked at the two footmen, and nodded sharply; they accompanied him out the pantry door. Samantha exhaled, much abler to breathe. She resumed eating pie. Shadow and Fiona settled down at the far end of the table and continued watching the shadowy corner.
The left corner of Samantha’s mouth twitched nervously at the thought of occupying the library alone with Harriet’s father, especially after his comments about her golden hair. She resolved to wait till the following morning or afternoon to visit the library. She hoped Mr. Prendregast refrained from spending every evening there and figured the family customarily occupied a drawing room after supper.
Harriet leaned toward Samantha and murmured, “I actually received eight marriage proposals during the Season. But I did not wish for Father to know, considering that he would have been averse to my declining every last one.”
Reginald chuckled and choked on his port.
Samantha raised her eyebrows. “Eight!” She considered Harriet exceedingly pretty, but the sheer number of proposals daunted her. She wondered how many men would propose to an insignificant orphan. She emptied her plate and sat back.
Harriet pushed away her empty plate. “He might have insisted that I should have taken the wealthiest one, no matter his personality. I was not in love with any of them, but he wouldn’t have understood that.”
The footmen returned and caused empty plates to float upward from the table and out the door leading to the pantry. With a wave of his hand, Reginald indicated that they may vacate the room; both footmen bowed and egressed through the pantry door. Harriet watched the door until it completely closed behind the servants.
Reginald placed his glass back on the table. “No doubt.”
Harriet wiped her lips. “Admittedly, I was besotted with a few of them, for a little bit—”
Reginald sat back. “One of these infatuations lasted over twenty-four hours. Odd’s spot, that’s Harriet’s record.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” Harriet leaned forward and swatted her brother on the forearm.
He drew back his arm and rubbed it whilst glaring at his sister. “Nay, avaunt, sister! May you have all the infections that the sun sucks up!”
Harriet waved him away. Apparently, she was accustomed to her brother’s odd insults. “Silly Reginald. I was infatuated with the Viscount of Mistborough for an entire fortnight! He had such lovely blue eyes, and he laughed and smiled so much. In truth, he never proposed to me. If he had, I would have accepted.”
Samantha stomach hardened. The relationship between father and daughter—to say nothing of Harriet’s infatuations and admirers—was enough to make her head spin. She considered her own father, who’d spoken to her softly and had encouraged her in any endeavor; surely he wouldn’t have pressured her to marry.
Samantha glanced at Reginald, but when she espied his suppressed grin, she paused to stare at him. “What can amuse you so much?”
“That exchange between our father and Harriet.” Reginald wiggled his fingers. “It is so typical. Mind you, I have no engagement either, but does he complain about that? No, he only goes after Harriet. It is always Harriet. I suppose I’m fortunate I am the favored one.”
Samantha raised her eyebrows. She felt the dining room’s temperature drop. “Yes, very fortunate.” She shuddered and rubbed her hands together.
Reginald gulped down some port. His glass thudded against the table. “According to our father, as long as husband and wife don’t murder each other, it doesn’t matter if they are compatible.”
“I am far too good-natured to murder my husband,” Harriet assured her brother. They all chortled.
Sipping from her glass of wine, Samantha wondered if Harriet might be inclined to marry solely to escape her father. She frowned, reminding herself of Harriet’s apparent loyalty to Mr. Prendregast. She appeared to simultaneously care about his opinions and revere him… yet know that she could not be entirely honest with him and gain approval… not that she gained his approval by remaining unattached at the end of the Season.
Reginald threw up his hands. “Truly, he thinks the wealth and position of your future husband is more important than your affinity for him.”
Samantha heard the clicking of dog toenails, as the Border collies rose from their reclining positions. They both gazed at a distant part of the ceiling, and Samantha attempted to surreptitiously glance in the same direction. Observing the far, shadowy corner, she cast her eyes upward. Some of the shadows moved.