After her father and brother had died, Melina Throgmorton, her mother, and her father’s mother, had stopped receiving invitations to parties. Melina had initially thought it was grief on the part of her mother and grandmother that kept the calling card bowl empty, a private kind of grief wrapped in black lace and crepe. However, after the requisite years of mourning had passed, and her mother grew more gaunt and distant from the world and polite society, Melina soon realized that it was society’s decision to ignore the Throgmortons, and she could only imagine one reason―the delusional madness of her mother who, possessed in her grief at the loss of both a spouse and child in one fell swoop, struggled to maintain the house and its expenses, until she finally succumbed to a wistful delirium that seemed to cling to every corner and shadow of their estate. 

Income, of course, was not the issue. The Throgmortons were one of the most landed cattle families in Thecas territory, and their ranch still turned a profit under the watchful eye of its manager, Silas. On top of that, her mother received a widow’s commission from the army for her brother and father’s death, so they had plenty of income with which to maintain their estate and reinvest in the ranch. Lady Throgmorton, however, never had much of head for numbers, and the problems were only exacerbated by her grief, until the estate fell into disrepair, and Melina was left to maintain the accounts while her mother mourned.

All of this was on full display for the polite members of society, and after years of overlooking Lady Throgmorton’s peculiarities and delirium, the upper echelon of West Thecas politely but firmly labeled the family as a group of mad eccentrics best to be avoided rather than fraternized with. Melina didn’t mind at all, of course, because she was much more comfortable with a house full of quiet and a library full of books, but her mother had always been a socialite and famous amongst the Thecas aristocracy, and between the loss of this status and the loss of part of her family, her mother’s peculiarities shifted quickly from interesting quirks to expensive delusions, and Melina was forced into the position of supporting her ailing mother while keeping her safe from herself and her whims. Thus it was that Melina found herself cornered in the library one late autumn evening by her mother, who demanded a conversation about their Christmas plans. 

“We must have a party for the holidays, Melina. The Throgmorton’s Yule ball is the highlight of the winter season for all of Thecas. You know as well as I do that everyone who is anyone must be there, and we cannot disappoint our public. It certainly wouldn’t do.”

Melina rolled her eyes at her mother. “Mother, think about the expense of a ball. Think of the work involved. We’ve had to minimize our staff over the past few years, and I don’t think we’d be able to hire enough people last minute, let alone order enough food or libations, for that number of people. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to forgo a ball this year, and aim for something more intimate.”

“Yes, you’re right. A ball is too much, and probably so passe at this point. No, our guests will require a more suitable entertainment for Christmas.”

“What about a nice game of cards, mother?” asked Melina, hoping her mother would take the hint and cease her foolish idea of a large social gathering. 

“No no no…we’ll have too many people for cards and stories, silly. Even if we only invite our nearest and dearest friends, we’d still have far too many people for cards.”

Melina watched as her mother continued her frantic pacing, muttering under her breath. This was a usual occurrence for Lady Throgmorton, and one that Melina knew could only end in one of two ways―either her mother would tire herself out, succumb to a nap, and forget the whole thing or, alternately, would conjure up yet another impossible plan for dozens of friends and neighbors that they hadn’t seen in years and weren’t going to actually show up.

“I have it, my dear!” Lady Throgmorton said, excitedly, clapping her hands like a childish schoolgirl as she bounced up and down, beaming. “Of course. It makes perfect sense. We shall have a séance!”

“What?”

“A séance, silly. Let the ranch hands be satisfied with this year’s round of cheap ghost stories. The Throgmorton’s will provide the real thing for their guests, an actual personal encounter with a live spirit from beyond the grave. What a perfectly splendid idea.”

“And how, pray tell, will we have a séance, mother? Will you be conjuring these ghosts out of thin air? Will you be putting out calls for a spirit medium to join us for the holidays? Why don’t we write to New York and see if the Fox Sisters can be hired for a once-in-a-lifetime special engagement.”

“Melina Vertiline Throgmorton,” her mother admonished her, “I will have you know that your grandmother was, in her time, a spiritualist of some renown, and I’m sure she could bring back the character of Madame L’Ombre for one night to entertain our friends.”

“Of course, mother, and when a ghost does not show, what will all of our friends and neighbors say?” Melina said, hoping the threat to her grandmother’s reputation as a famous medium, as well as the threat to their family’s reputation, would dissuade her mother from pursuing such an embarrassing display. 

Lady Throgmorton waved her hand dismissively. “Séances never actually work. Nobody’s coming to actually see a ghost, Melina. They’re purely entertainment―cheap, thrilling, and everyone loves the drama and ambience. This will be perfect for a Yule Party, and we won’t have to invite everyone we know, only our closest of bosom friends.”