I’m delighted to welcome Samantha Ward-Smith and her new book, Ravenscoirt, to the blog with an excerpt.
Excerpt
Alex was left alone rattling around the large, quiet house – all clocks stopped, no other living soul. He examined the room. The dust covers had obviously been removed, and an attempt made to clean and air it. The window shutters however remained shut, making the room feel like a red tomb. He could already hear the rain that had threatened beginning to fall outside. But the fire was welcoming, as were the wine, bread, and cheese he had been left. He was glad to sate his hunger at least, and he readily did so before he began his search. Even now he was eager to be gone from the place, and the sooner he found the journal or any revealing papers Sir Charles had left the better.
The desk was clear, as if all traces of Sir Charles had been swept away, and he remembered Sir David’s account of it being like this in the aftermath of his friend’s death. Alex opened the drawers to find some papers, old invoices, some plain stationery, and an old appointment book. He wondered what had become of it all – his father’s desk in both London and the Abbey had been full of his father’s life, but this desk was bereft of any trace of its owner. He slumped down in the chair by the fire, worrying his trip would be futile, and closed his eyes. But of course, Sir Charles would have left nothing secret in so obvious a place.
The storm outside had intensified, and Alex was jolted awake by a clap of thunder overhead as the rain lashed at the shuttered windows. The fire was dying slowly in the grate, and the room was growing colder. There was a stillness to the room and his heart pounded as beads of sweat prickled on his back even though his body began to shiver from the cold.
A loud crash, followed by the sound of shattering glass within the house, made him jump and he gripped the chair. Alex’s breath came in short, shallow gasps as his eyes fixed on the study door, watching to see if the handle would turn. He sat there, waiting, but there was nothing. The house was quiet once again, with just the rain tormenting him, pushing as if to be let in the windows, rattling the shutters in denied fury. His heart rate slowed as he convinced his trembling body it was simply the storm which continued to crash around the house. There was no one there.
His pocket watch showed the hour to be two in the morning. He rose slowly from the chair, his body stiff and his nerves frayed. He left the study, ignoring the shadowy library with its vaulted ceiling, and gripping the lantern, he retraced his steps back to the hall to find the prepared bedroom.
His oil lamp afforded minimal light, and the hall was darker now as the night’s black mantle dulled the lantern window. Alex shivered as he gazed up at it, high above him, a sickly reminder of another ceiling from which had shone stars from a Venetian sky. As suddenly as it had come the storm had now passed so there was an eerie silence, and the shrouded furniture within the hall played tricks on the imagination. Alex grasped the first newel post of the stairs, glancing upwards once again at the shadows as if he expected to see the figures of Arabella and Mary waiting for him. He slowly climbed the stairs.
Once inside his own chilly room, he removed only his shoes, and pulling back the heavy damask cover, he climbed into the bed fully clothed as the coldness gripped him. Wrapped tightly in the cover, at first he thought sleep would evade him, his mind still full of turmoil, and his senses acutely on edge. But soon his eyes grew too heavy, and he could no longer fight his exhaustion even though he was not yet ready to sacrifice himself to the house.
Here’s the Blurb
He wanted to be gone from the dark enclosing room, with its mocking misery, to be gone from this house of nightmares, of shattered dreams, and discovered secrets which could not be put back in the box.
Venice, 1880.
Alexander, Viscount Dundarran, seeks refuge from scandal amidst the fading grandeur of crumbling palazzos during the infamous Carnival in the city. There he encounters the enigmatic Lady Arabella Pembrook—a young, beautiful widow. Both are scarred by their pasts but find solace in each other and a chance at redemption.
But when duty calls Alexander back to England upon his father’s death, a darker journey begins. Travelling to Ravenscourt, the decaying estate once belonging to Arabella’s late husband, Alexander must confront the house’s disturbing legacy which has echoed through the generations. Within its walls lie secrets that refuse to stay buried and will threaten everything he thought he knew. But can Alex uncover the truth in time?
Buy Link
This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited
Meet the Author
Samantha Ward-Smith is the author of Tower of Vengeance, her debut historical novel set in the Tower of London during the 13th century, and the forthcoming Ravenscourt, a Victorian Gothic tale unfolding across Venice, London, and the windswept Lancashire moors. She lived in London for over three decades, building a career in investment banking while also pursuing a PhD in English at Birkbeck.
For the past 13 years she has volunteered at the Tower of London, an experience that provided invaluable historical insight and directly shaped her writing. Now based in Kent by the sea, Samantha continues to explore the intersections of history, place, and story, writing in the company of her two cats, Belle and Rudy.
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