Christabel's Room: A spellbinding Victorian gothic romance by Abigail Clements & CL Skelton

Author:Abigail Clements & CL Skelton [Clements, Abigail]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: romantic suspense historical, gothic romance historical, romantic suspense books kindle unlimited, gothic romance clean, clean romantic suspense, gothic romance mystery, Victorian mystery, gothic romance, romantic suspense cosy, Victorian romance, romantic suspense cozy, Victorian gothic
Publisher: Wyndham Books (Gothic romance)
Published: 2020-03-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Summer came to Creagdhubh like an uneasy guest, not sure of its welcome. Through the spring months of March and April the dark clouds raced before high winds, day after day. Streamers of mist hung down the cuts and over the loch and the tall windows of Creagdhubh shook and rattled with gale-driven, lashing rain.

Then one morning in May, the sky was blue from hill to hill and there was no wind at all. I stood at my window, brushing my hair and looking out, seeing where the hardwoods were suddenly a soft green, the larches the same fresh colour as the green-satin spread on my bed. The lawns around the old house were sprinkled with tiny white daisies and splashed with bright daffodils.

Neat rows of crocuses, hyacinths and tulips showed in the flower borders. They seemed to have come, like mushrooms, from nowhere. Among the hardwoods behind the gate house I picked out the white, clouded tops of wild cherry trees.

Catriona had opened the upper sash of the window and now, mingled with the rush of the burn, I could hear far down in the valley a dreamy, distant cuckoo.

I had exulted over the weather upon arising, only to be assured by Mrs. Cameron that I had best enjoy it now, for by next week it could well be winter again. It seemed impossible to believe, but I reminded myself that last week it had indeed been winter, and the snow still lay drifted on the high, bare tops of the hills.

Still, I had promised myself a ride down the loch path to see the still, black water under this splendid sunshine, as soon as Rowena’s lessons were completed.

But before I had even gone down to breakfast, Rowena arrived, breathless, dressed in pale blue summer-gingham and brimming with childish excitement.

‘Oh, Elspeth,’ she cried, quite forgetting her customary studied dignity, and flopping down across my bed. I turned to face her as she said, ‘Haven’t you heard?’

I hadn’t heard anything special, and it was plain she was delighted to be the bearer of the news.

‘We’re going to have a ball. A real ball at Creagdhubh. There hasn’t been one since Mother died, and then I used to be too young. But now I’m not. Oh, Elspeth, isn’t it just too marvellous?’

‘How very nice,’ I said with genuine pleasure, because it did sound very exciting. ‘When was this decided?’

‘This morning,’ she replied, dreamily. ‘I’ve been working at Papa for ages and he’s finally given in.’ She giggled, ‘I shall have a new dress made, a white one, for summer. From one of your new patterns.’ She turned over and lay on her stomach, her legs bent up and swinging one blue satin slipper. She chewed carefully on a delicate fingernail and said after much thought, ‘Or perhaps pink. Pink silk. What do you think?’

‘White,’ I said, smiling. ‘And lessons, I think too, but breakfast first.’

‘Pooh!’ said Rowena, automatically, but really quite good-naturedly. She was too delighted with her new excitement to be annoyed, even with me.

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