The Ghost of Glendale: A Regency romance story you won't want to put down by Natalie Kleinman

Author:Natalie Kleinman [Kleinman, Natalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2021-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

It was the day after the soirée. Having enjoyed her daughter’s account of the previous evening, Sophia pleaded exhaustion. “I almost feel I was there myself,” she said, “and now I feel the need to rest to gather my resources once more.” Lydia had gone to visit the Wainwrights, but Phoebe had declined the invitation, confident she could leave her cousin to the care of the squire’s good lady. Though she thought of Duncan every day, Phoebe had resigned herself to the fact that she might never see him again. There had been no word; not enough time had passed for a letter to reach her. Nevertheless, when a courier delivered an envelope to the house, her heart leapt for a moment, but it was addressed to her father. In his note, he made no mention of writing to me, she told herself. I must, I shall, forget him.

All this while she had been in her mother’s drawing room, examining the cases that lined the walls. She paused in her search and looked up at Simon’s portrait. “Did you mean, I wonder, to set us such a difficult task?” she asked aloud. He didn’t reply.

She moved to Emily’s desk and opened the bottom drawer, but when she attempted to pull it further, it resisted. Thinking it must be caught on something, she curled her fingers up inside to find the culprit. What she found instead was a catch which caused the drawer to spring towards her. She was about to push it back in when she noticed that it was much shorter than the corresponding one on the other side, whose contents she had previously examined. Curious now, she grasped it with both hands and wiggled, whereupon it came away from its housing. Not entirely surprised, and more excited by the moment, she reached in. Probing with her fingers, she withdrew her hand, which now clasped a silver goblet. The silver goblet. There could be no mistaking it. So, Mama, you succeeded further in your search than we had imagined! she thought. How excited Duncan will be when he finds out. Then she sat back in the chair, saddened because she might never be able to tell him.

She began to examine her treasure. The silver was tarnished, but not badly so on account of being protected against light and air. She turned the goblet in her hands, examining the engraving around its rim, but she could find nothing significant. The pattern was uniform and meant nothing to her. She turned it over and looked at the underside, but that too didn’t reveal anything. Then she remembered the words of Simon’s poem. The last two lines had said:

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