They would enter the house and be announced by the man at the door taking the invitations. Everyone gave pause and there were many surprised gazes upon the normally sedately dressed Amelia. When she handed her wrap over to a servant, she was quick to put her hand upon his arm once more and gaze at him with a smile. Inside of the large hall were about four dozen eccentrics, all in various forms of interesting dress, though all elegantly attired. It would soon become evident by a conversation they would end up overhearing about the supernatural.

They were ghost enthusiasts. People who snuck onto properties in search of answers, people who practiced table tipping. In fact, there was one older gentleman that stood out, a loud guffaw given. "Welcome to the Whitby Ghost Society's Soiree," she whispered with a grin as some of Constance's friends migrated their way for greeting.