Welcome to Halloween in Miniature 2020! Day 3
👀 Go Back (and see contest!) on Day 1 -
https://candidcanine.blogspot.com/2020/09/halloween-in-miniature-2020-start-party.html
See Day 2's story - https://candidcanine.blogspot.com/2020/09/halloween-in-miniature-2020-2-cemetery.html
Dare to have your fortune told? Or do you believe in
Superstition!
by Carola Dunn
(Skeleton, Patricia Paul)
"Come and dance, Melly!" Peter seized Amelia's soft little hand and
tugged her towards the far end of the room, where the fiddler was tuning up.
"Later." The white ruffles on her pale pink muslin
gown swayed about her ankles as she resisted.
"It is nearly my turn to have my fortune told."
"I'm dashed if I know what you see in
such nonsense," he snorted.
She tossed her head, her dark, glossy
ringlets bouncing. "I would not
miss it for the world. This year Mr.
Gregg has hired a genuine Gypsy woman who can really see the future."
(Gypsy, (Julie Campbell Doll Artist)
"Pure superstition." Laughing, he gestured at the admirable decorations Mr. Gregg, landlord of the George, had hung about the walls of the assembly room. "I suppose you believe in witches, too, riding on broomsticks in their pointy hats. And as tonight is All Hallows' Eve, no doubt the ghosts will all waft from their graves at midnight and dance around your revered papa's churchyard. What an adorable ninny you are, Amelia."
"And you are odious!" Rosy lips pouted, delectably kissable --but the long room was full of family, friends and neighbours.
"If you truly
loved me," she complained, "you would not always be laughing at
me."
"But I do love you, Mel." Distractedly running his fingers through his
fair hair, Peter wreaked havoc on the Brutus he had laboured over for quite
half an hour. "I have loved you
since you were in leading strings and I wish you will make up your mind to
marry me."
"You cannot want a ninny for a
wife." She turned away towards the
fortune-teller's gaudy tent, pitched in the corner. A blonde young lady in blue
dimity was just coming out. "Jenny!
What did the Gypsy say?"
Peter's youngest sister gave a theatrical
shudder. "It was perfectly horrid,
Melly," she declared, her blue eyes bright with relish. "But I cannot tell you what she said or
it will not come true."
"Horrid?" Amelia faltered.
"Come on." Peter seized the excuse to put his arm around
her slender waist. "I shall go in
with you. I wager you have forgot silver
to cross her palm, anyway."
"No, I have not. I brought a shilling."
"I daresay sixpence would be enough, but perhaps you will get a better fortune for a shilling," he teased.
Inside, black hangings
of a sheenless material absorbed the light of the single candle, flickering in
a sconce behind and above the fortune-teller's head. The Gypsy woman, her face in darkness, sat at
a small, round table draped with black.
Before her, a crystal ball seemed to shimmer with an inner light.
Peter had to admit--strictly to
himself--that the effect was decidedly eerie.
The still figure spoke in a low voice. "Squire's son and vicar's daughter,
come." She beckoned.
Amelia pressed close against Peter's
side. It was a delightful sensation, but
he gave her a gentle squeeze and pushed her forward. "Go on.
I shall be right here."
(Fortune, anyone? C. Verstraete)
She sat down on the spindly chair facing
the Gypsy and he stood behind her, resting his hands on its back. "How did you know who we are?" she
asked, awed.
"Is that the question you wish to ask
of the Powers?"
Detecting a hint of amused irony, Peter
felt more comfortable. After all, Sir
William Lovatt's heir and the Reverend Blake's daughter were well known in
Amesbury. No occult Powers were needed
to discover their identities.
"No, I just want to know the
future," Amelia assured her. "My future." She proffered her shilling.
The Gypsy pocketed the silver coin and nodded, her dark eyes reflecting a fugitive gleam. "Hold my hands and gaze into the crystal ball. Concentrate on what you want to know."
Amelia cast a nervous glance up at
Peter. He squeezed her shoulder
encouragingly, sensing the fragile bones beneath the satin-smooth skin revealed
by her modest decolletage. Gingerly she clasped
the Gypsy's hands.
Muffled by the tent's draperies, the music
and laughter and talk in the assembly room outside seemed far off. Peter heard the ticking of his watch. Amelia's pulse beat rapidly against his
fingertips. He could not tear his gaze
from the glowing crystal.
The Gypsy's voice startled him. "I see a ring... stones...white robes
and a ceremony. In an ancient place, you
will find your heart's desire.
Wait." She paused for a
long, tense moment. "No, now a mist
is rising, hiding the scene. That is all."
(Gypsy, (Julie Campbell Doll Artist)
"I did not see anything," said
Amelia doubtfully.
The response was harsh. "It is not given to the uninitiated to
read the future!"
Amelia jump to her feet, then bobbed a
curtsy and said with dignity, "Thank you, ma'am." Peter was proud of her as she took his arm
and walked straight-backed from the tent.
Outside, a plump farm girl was waiting with
her swain, giggling. "What's it
like, Miss Blake?" she asked.
"Did the crone tell you who you're going to wed?" She flirted her eyelashes at Peter and he
winked at her.
"It was spine-chilling," he said
in a sepulchral voice.
"It was strange," said Amelia
slowly. "You had best take Ernie in
with you." As the couple entered
the tent, she turned to Peter. "I
do not understand what the Gypsy meant."
He grinned.
"The usual garbled nonsense, but easy enough to decipher. A betrothal ring, obviously, and a wedding
ceremony with you wearing a white wedding dress."
"And the ancient place?"
"The church."
(Old cemetery, Angela Potts)
"It is old," she admitted,
disappointed and dissatisfied. "Papa says parts of it are Norman. That was an excessively dull fortune. I wanted something exciting."
"Isn't marrying me exciting enough for
you?"
"She did not say it was you I shall
marry," Amelia pointed out with a saucy look, recovering her spirits.
"She would never commit herself to
anything so specific. As it is, you are
bound to be betrothed and married some day so she could hardly go wrong."
"Well, I believe what she said, and I
am not so sure it was as simple as you say."
"Nothing will convince you it's all
superstition?" Several glasses of
Mr. Gregg's notorious punch put the next words into Peter's mouth. "I'll tell you what, I shall prove to
you that ghosts don't exist."
"How?" she challenged him.
"We shall go up to Stonehenge at midnight. The Druids used to build huge fires at Halloween to drive off the evil spirits they believed were let loose at midnight by the god of the dead. Can you imagine any place or any time when ghosts are more likely to appear?"
"N-no."
"Then if we are there and nothing
materializes, you will have to believe that there is no such thing as a
ghost."
Her head cocked, she gave him a speculative
look from beneath long lashes.
"Perhaps," she conceded.
"You are not afraid?"
"Papa says if ghosts exist they are
immaterial beings who cannot harm the living."
"Good enough. You go and bob for apples while I make arrangements."
"Bob for apples! Not I.
My ringlets would dangle in the water."
"That would be too dreadful for
words. Did you sleep in curl papers all
night?"
"No gentleman would ask such a
question of a lady! I shall go and dance
with one of my other beaux."
Peter watched her cross the room, slight and
graceful in her high-waisted gown with its straight skirt and puff sleeves. Before
she was half way to her mother's side, she was surrounded by friends, both male
and female. A moment later her father's curate
led her onto the dance floor, where a country dance was about to start up.
(Ghost girl, Julie Campbell Doll Artist)
How could she bring herself to stand up
with such a wretched, stoop-shouldered fellow?
He would probably step on her toes—he was no better at dancing than he
was at riding, and he couldn't drive a pair to save his life. A whey-faced, mealy-mouthed flat, he didn't
even know the difference between wheat and barley, and a boar in rut would send
him scampering for...
"Yellow with jealousy, Peter?"
"Freddy, you are just the man I
need."
"No, no, old chap, can't challenge a
man of God to a duel. Simply isn't done."
"Not as my second, gudgeon. Listen."
He drew his friend, nattily clad in primrose pantaloons and a wine-red
coat, into a quiet corner. "I'm
taking Amelia up to Stonehenge at midnight to see the Druids."
"Druids!"
"Haven't you read old Colt Hoare's
stuff? You know, Sir Richard, my
father's friend over at Stourhead who's forever writing books about Wiltshire
antiquities. He proves pretty conclusively
that Stonehenge was the chief Druid temple, and never mind those Banbury
stories about the Romans or the Danes building the place."
"Yes, but whoever built it, you are
two thousand years too late to see them cavorting there," Freddy
protested.
"Not them, their ghosts. It's the perfect place for ghosts. Remember
when we read Caesar at school..."
"Devil take it, you've never told
Melly about the human sacrifices!"
"Of course not--and she is Miss Blake
to you."
"You're not betrothed yet."
"Not yet," said Peter smugly,
"but believe me, we soon shall be after we have been seen alone together
at Stonehenge in the middle of the night.
Now listen, will you? Here is
what I want you to do."
(* See tomorrow's post/Day 4 for part 2 of Superstition!) -https://candidcanine.blogspot.com/2020/09/halloween-in-miniature-2020-4-halloween.html
*******
👹 Carola Dunn is the author of some 60 books including the 23 book, 1920s-era Daisy Dalrymple mystery series, the four-book Cornish mysteries and a collection of Regency novels, plus novellas.. See her website for more on her writing. Her latest books include:
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👽 Julie Campbell makes incredible miniature dolls. See her Facebook photos and website.
💀 Dressed skeleton, Patricia Paul, Patricia Paul Studio (FYI: Sign up for her newsletter and get a free set of mini book cover printies!)
👻 Christine Verstraete is an author and miniaturist. See Day 1 for contest and hint on my latest In Miniature Style - Halloween booklet and ebook!
👺 Debra Hinton loves the macabre side of miniatures. See more of her work at her FB page, Darkside Morbid Miniatures. Warning: not for the fainthearted. Also check out Kangley Hill Asylum.
💀 Other miniature creations by Meredith Paige and Angela Potts from the Haunted Orchid Dollhouse Club on FB.
👽 Animations: fg-a.com; Other photos: Pixabay.com
👾 Continue the story on Day 4 -
https://candidcanine.blogspot.com/2020/09/halloween-in-miniature-2020-4-halloween.html
