I forget if I mentioned this previously, but I’m participating in Camp Nanowrimo this month. Rather than starting a new manuscript, I’m revising a first draft I wrote during National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), which is in November. Camp Nanowrimo is more casual and takes place in April and July. I’m also writing postcards to encourage voters to vote.
It could be next month by the time I’m painting a picture for the front cover of a novel that I previously shared here on Whimsical Words. The title was The Vanquished & the Surviving, but I recently came up with a new title: The Cauldron’s Eye.
Chapter 1:
Chapter 36:
Hauntings of Claverton Castle, Chapter 37
Half an hour passed. Lady Starcliffe arrived and, after enthusiastically greeting everyone, followed a servant to her guest rooms. Samantha ascended the stairs to her dressing room, where Harriet’s maid, Abigail, assisted her in preparing for the ball.
Later, Samantha descended the stairs and paused with indecision in the entrance hall, for this was where she was supposed to meet with Harriet’s Aunt Thirza. Guests were arriving by the droves, with Ewen opening the door for them and the butler announcing their names. Samantha watched the crowd, until Aunt Thirza entered the room and approached her. Harriet’s aunt wore a striking dark purple gown instead of drab gray, but she still appeared to have consumed too many lemons.
Aunt Thirza and Samantha, arm in arm, crossed the threshold into the great hall, a ballroom for the night. Samantha wore her yellow silk gown, a dark blue sapphire necklace, and long satin gloves that matched her gown. A blue and yellow Indian shawl was draped around her shoulders.
She scanned the crowded room and wished she wouldn’t see Harriet. Samantha still regretted confiding in her about her regard for Margot. Currently, Samantha had nobody’s attention.
Samantha was beginning to wonder if it was not beneath Harriet to spread word of her secret. No, surely not. Samantha had witnessed Harriet gossiping occasionally when they were in school, as she sought approval from popular girls, but she wouldn’t gossip about her own close friend.
Samantha turned to Aunt Thirza. “Begging your pardon, madam, but I have a question for you.”
Aunt Thirza raised her shaggy eyebrows. “Another? You brimmed with questions last time I was your chaperone. I hope this will not be a habit, unless you conjure considerably more pleasant queries that are not concerned with death.”
Samantha gulped. “Mr. Prendregast finds his family history fascinating, but he overlooks a great deal of it.”
“What are you implying?”
“Forgive me for asking this, Mrs. Prendregast. But do you remember… an uncle by the name of Jonathan?”
Aunt Thirza’s small eyes grew bigger; she inhaled sharply. “What does this matter? He is long dead. I have not heard of that… of Uncle Jonathan in quite a long time.”
Samantha leaned slightly toward the older woman and lowered her voice. “I have met the ghost of your sister Gertrude.”
Aunt Thirza stepped away from Samantha and glowered. “What is this? My brother did not tell me you were an interfering Sensitive. Is that why you are such an honored guest? I thought it was because you’ve charmed him.”
“Oh, gracious, no, nothing of the sort.”
“He is partial to golden hair. His wife had golden hair, though not so pale as yours. You’ve charmed a man old enough to be your father… or grandfather.”
“I’ve done no such thing, Mrs. Prendregast. I am simply a childhood friend of your niece.” Samantha’s voice shook. She couldn’t decide where to look.
“So Harriet said. Well, you are an impertinent childhood friend of my niece. Gertrude’s ghost, indeed! If you wish to remain Harriet’s friend, I suggest you refrain from meddling in this family’s past. Do you understand me?”
“Ah… yes, madam, I understand.” Samantha’s shoulders drooped, as she realized that information from Aunt Thirza wouldn’t come easily.
In the gallery above, the musicians were warming up their instruments. Samantha stood beside her chaperone and surveyed her surroundings. She feigned interest in possible dancing partners. Stung by Aunt Thirza’s accusations, Samantha considered persuading her chaperone to accompany her to a refreshment table. She could preoccupy them both with punch, and nobody would suspect that she felt uncomfortable in the crowd.
Reginald saw her and bowed to his aunt and then to Samantha. “Right-o! Miss Ponsonby, would you care to share the second set with me?”
Samantha clasped her heart in relief. “I would be happy to do so.”
“Splendid. I promise not to step on your toes more than five times.”
“I shall count.”
“La!”
“I wonder with whom I am to open the dance.” Samantha scanned the ballroom.
Reginald glanced about. “Certainly, it is your birthday, so you should lead.”
Aunt Thirza sniffed like her brother. “I believe Lady Starcliffe is to lead the first set, considering her rank.” This soon proved to be the case.
After participating in several dances, each with a different partner (of varying talent at dance and conversation), Samantha sipped punch with Aunt Thirza, Harriet, and two other young ladies, in the screen passage. It was slightly quieter than the rest of the room, and a handful of people stood about in groups, talking. Although Harriet appeared content and affable with the others, Samantha felt out of place.
Samantha had only met the other two young ladies, Miss Nanette Ullman and Miss Nerys Hawthorne, that evening. Harriet had cheerfully introduced them and mentioned that they resided in Bath. Miss Ullman wore a fuchsia ball gown with green braid trim, and her enormous curled hair was embellished with looming pink ostrich plumes. Miss Hawthorne wore a light green frock trimmed with maroon braid and had similar plumes adorning her head. They were both pretty, but they struck Samantha as the female equivalent of fops of the silliest sort. She wondered at Harriet’s choice of friends.
“When do you think the Marquis of Uppington will marry?” Miss Ullman asked. “He’s quite forty years old at least, and never married.”
“Not from want of trying.” Miss Hawthorne glanced at Aunt Thirza and received a cold stare in return. She exchanged a look with Miss Ullman, who giggled behind her fan.
“He is handsome enough, I declare.” Miss Ullman fluttered her fan. “And quite wealthy. I suppose the only reason he has yet to marry is because his demeanor makes a dreadful impression on the ladies.”
Aunt Thirza waved her fan slowly and scowled. “I find nothing to which I can object in his demeanor.” The young ladies stood quietly exchanging wide-eyed glances.
Miss Hawthorne clasped her hands together. “Rumor has it that Lord Percy Cavendish and Miss Montmorency will be married off before too long. It is a pity, for I can see myself married to Lord Percy. I shouldn’t mind it at all. Just look at his golden curls.” She giggled.
Samantha froze, and her lips went slack. Staring at Miss Hawthorne, she felt as though a fist were squeezing her heart. She mentally conjured an image of Margot and Percy standing and holding hands in the center of a sacred grove whilst members of both their families stood with beaming smiles. She blinked and sensed Harriet staring at her.
Aunt Thirza scowled at Miss Hawthorne. “Addle-pated girl!”
“Shameless!” Miss Ullman said. Both she and Miss Hawthorne giggled behind their fans.
Harriet stood taller and fluttered her fan. “To whom do you refer when you say ‘shameless’?”
“Lord Percy, of course.” Miss Ullman lifted her fan to hide most of her face, and she peered over it with narrowed eyes.
Miss Herndall joined them. She was a golden-haired and homely young lady whose complexion appeared ruddier than when Samantha first saw her. She leaned forward, almost spilling her cup of punch.
Harriet frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Miss Ullman fluttered her fan rapidly and leaned toward Harriet. “Another rumor has it that Margot is completely uninterested in Percy and declined his proposal.” The fist stopped clutching Samantha’s heart. She raised her eyebrows, recalling Margot’s subtly altered mood when Roland mentioned Lord Percy. Margot is uninterested in Percy.
Miss Herndall raised her eyebrows. “And yet another rumor is that Lord Percy is in love with Miss Montmorency’s brother rather than Miss Montmorency!” This comment was followed by giggles from everyone except Harriet, Aunt Thirza, and Samantha. Aunt Thirza inhaled sharply and cast a withering glare upon Miss Herndall.
Samantha peered across the room to where she’d last espied Roland. He stood close to Percy; they were having a tête-è-tête by a window. Samantha raised her eyebrows. Roland’s head was bowed, and Percy appeared to say or whisper something almost in his ear. Roland smiled. Samantha gulped; their behavior hardly challenged the rumor. She wondered if she should warn them. Maybe people gossiped about them out of envy.
Miss Ullman fluttered her fan and recovered from her giggles. “What a pity if Lord Percy and Mr. Montmorency are… connected… in that manner. They are two such fine-looking eligible gentlemen.”
Harriet exhaled. “A pity, indeed.”
Aunt Thirza glared. “Enough of such talk!”
Samantha shook her head and quickly turned to Harriet and her friends. She didn’t wish any of them to observe what she just saw, and she reminded herself that gossip was damaging and often unfounded. She knew Percy and Roland had been close friends all their lives.
Reginald stood beside her and glared at the gossips. He’d joined them silently, and nobody had yet to acknowledge his presence. Samantha smiled and curtseyed to him, but he didn’t seem to notice her. He said, “Aha! I have caught you, knave! ‘Long-tongued babbling gossip!’ Enough of your blackening the names of good people.”
The gossips stared at him in silence. He bowed and drifted away toward the dance floor. Samantha hid her smile behind her fan and glanced at Aunt Thirza, who looked stonily at the present company.
“That reminds me,” Miss Hawthorne said, “dear Harriet, isn’t your brother Reginald heart-broken over Mr. Charles Willard?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harriet’s cheeks flushed almost as scarlet as Miss Herndall’s. Samantha stepped closer to her friend.
“Oh, I think you do.” Miss Hawthorne smirked. Aunt Thirza sharply took in a breath.
“He has Douglas with him now,” Miss Ullman said. “To be sure, he’s enough of a distraction.”
“La, with that ginger hair?” Miss Herndall said. “He’s hardly a replacement.”
Aunt Thirza stuck her slightly crooked nose up in the air. “Such outrageous nonsense you young people discuss.”
Harriet fluttered her fan in a consciously slow manner. “Reginald and Douglas are friends of a platonic nature. I feel like dancing. You must excuse me.” She swished away.