Try this on for an opening sentence:

“I should have known there was something wrong the day we arrived at Bryce House and all the servants left the premises at dusk.”

I just love it. You know exactly where you stand, with an opening like that – right in the middle of a true-blue Gothic. And indeed, you’re right. From the heroine’s first-person perspective to the mysterious broody guy in the glade, this is a good old-fashioned Gothic potboiler right down to the eerie cold spot in the cellar. Unfortunately, the ride ends with a very bumpy landing, but if you’re a traditionalist, you may enjoy the atmosphere enough to forgive the weak resolution and the pallid romance.

Kate Whittingham has accompanied her older brother Edwin to Bryce House to help fulfill the terms of his inheritance. A distant relative has bequeathed the house to Edwin, but only if he can stay there for the entire month of October. Upon their arrival they learn that the task may not be as trivial as it sounds, because Bryce House has two resident ghosts: The Gentleman, who wears a mask, paces the floors, and shows off his dagger, and The Lady, who mopes around and wails a lot.

Though the will does not require it, Kate is determined to stick out the ordeal with Edwin, despite the fact that the ghosts make themselves known from the very first night – The Lady materializes in Kate’s room and leaves behind the faint scent of lilacs. Kate remains out of honor and loyalty, but in addition, she meets the Earl of Bryce loitering broodily at a pond, and they develop an instantaneous fascination for one another.

To help dissipate the occult atmosphere, Kate and Edwin invite a few house guests, despite reports that excess company agitates the ghosts. For the first half of the book, the tension and the Gothic atmosphere gradually thicken so much you could smear them on toast. Kate’s first-person narration is used to great effect, because we can only see the things she chooses to focus on. It’s a much subtler way to cast suspicion than the glaringly obvious hints a lot of third-person books supply.

And then – nothing! Or rather, stuff happens, but just as we cross the halfway point into the No Spoiler Zone, the atmosphere largely dries up and the story becomes much more absurd than creepy. Characters who seemed to have potential (as ghost snacks, if nothing else) meander in and out of the story to no purpose. The earl falls in love with Kate because…well, just because he does, that’s all. His character is woefully underwritten. Worst of all, the plot that hinted of such promise turns out to be utter nonsense in the final reel. To say more would be to give up too much information, but the final resolution is needlessly complex and wholly illogical.

And yet despite this, I quite enjoyed the book, at least the first two thirds of it. It’s the epitome of a C+ read – when it was good, it was very very good, and when it was bad, it was horrid. Barbara Hazard’s prose style is terrific and I loved all of the Gothic buildup, the stately progression through the standard Gothic tropes that made them feel vivid, if not new. And then there was that perfect first sentence. A pity the last one didn’t meet the same standard. For a fabulous Hazard-penned Regency Romance, try The Wary Widow instead.