Ravenscourt
by Samantha Ward-Smith
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?
Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/mvJLpV
This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited.
Please enjoy an excerpt from Ravenscourt:
Years later, when Alexander allowed himself the memory of that first visit to Venice, he would recall the moment when he left the steamy bustle of the station. His body was stiff from the rattling, jolting train, and his mind was weary of the misery he had left behind in England. He eased himself into the waiting gondola, bobbing by the steps, and he reclined back onto the scarlet, velvet cushions as the early morning winter mist shrouded him.
The water lapped lazily against the sleek, black boat, with the slow rhythm of the pole pushing through the surface, hitting the unseen mud below, as they made their way through the narrow canal. Only the gondolier’s harsh voice echoed off the enclosing walls, breaking the eerie silence. ‘Beware,’ he seemed to cry, ‘I am coming.’ The early morning fog slowly lifted, revealing Venice in all its famed beauty. Alex took in the vibrant, painted walls; tall, Gothic windows looking down at him with their ornate balconies; and the slimy water steps leading to large wooden doors of the Palazzos. A tired old woman, in a faded dressing gown, leant on a crumbling sill, smoking a cigarette, oblivious to their boat below. As they slowly progressed, Alex glimpsed little white bridges crossing smaller canals where people scuttled to and fro, hurrying to get to work. There were no tourists at this early hour who would have paused and taken their time, enticed by what lay ahead.
A pigeon, disturbed by the movement in the water, flapped upwards towards the weak February sunshine which began to tinge the walls pink breaking through the gloom, reflecting on the green sheen of the water. The faint odour of the canal tickled Alex’s nose, repugnant and unsettling. Then suddenly they were upon the Grand Canal itself. The gondola rocked alarmingly as Alex gripped the sides of the low boat tighter, feeling the cold spray of water on his hands. But the gondolier, a capable expert, steadied them as they moved against the current. They avoided the numerous other craft traversing the main waterway of the city, but he could almost reach out and touch the succulent fruit and vegetables on the barges touting their wares to the hotels, the boarding houses, and the residents along the banks. Behind him in another gondola, Alex hoped, followed his valet, George, with all their tottering luggage. By now his senses were fully alert to the bustle that was happening around him in the city. The long journey from London temporarily forgotten and the arguments with his father pushed to one side as he enjoyed the vibrant life around him.
He laughed as the gondolier ducked to get under the Rialto Bridge then smiled as children called out and waved to him from above. He listened to the shopkeepers animatedly greet each other as the shops on the bridge began to open for the day. He marvelled at the magnificent Palazzos lining along the water’s edge, each seemingly more beautiful and grander as they edged closer towards the hotel. He did not register the decay beneath the silken, green water – the rottenness of the city’s foundations, nor the ugliness which tarnished its beauty. A beauty that was a façade, a Carnival mask covering the dark truth that nothing was as it seemed.
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.
Author Links:
Website: www.samanthawardsmithwriter.com
Twitter / X: https://x.com/SammyJoAstro
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/61567731253160/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/samanthawardsmithwriter/
Threads: https://www.threads.com/@samanthawardsmithwriter
Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/samwardsmithwriter.bsky.social
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@sam.wardsmithwrites
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Samantha-Ward-Smith/author/B0DTJ71Y58
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/54112168.Samantha_Ward_Smith
