The hearth at Thornfield is where stories warm the room long before the fire does.

A special cozy reading is coming soon — Althea insists it needs “just the right moment” to be shared.

For now, settle in… more magic is on its way

Coming soon!

PSYCHIC WITCHCRAFT
Here in Thornfield, witchcraft isn’t bubbling cauldrons or dramatic sparks.
Psychic witches tap into intuition, energy, and the whispers of the unseen — each with a gift all their own.

Althea senses spirits — the temperature shifts, the lilac breeze, the quiet nudges from beyond.
Carly is a visionary — her gift arrives in flashes and images she doesn’t yet understand.

Every witch at Thornfield has a talent… even if they haven’t discovered it yet.

In Thornfield Manor, some nights are chilly…
and some nights carry a whisper of lilac on the air.

Either way, Althea and Carly never begin a mystery without a warm mug of their favorite Thornfield Hot Chocolate — rich, velvety, and perfect for cozy sleuthing sessions at the manor.

Brew a batch for yourself and enjoy it just like they do.

Thornfield Manor Gourmet Hot Chocolate

Ingredients

• 1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk
• 1 ½ cups heavy whipping cream
• 8 cups milk
• 1 ½ tsp vanilla extract
• 2 cups chocolate chips
  (dark, milk, or white — whichever magic calls to you!)

Directions

1. Add the milk, sweetened condensed milk, heavy cream, and vanilla to your slow cooker.
2. Stir gently to combine.
3. Add the chocolate chips and mix so they melt evenly.
4. Heat on LOW for 2 hours, stirring occasionally.
5. Pour into your favorite mug, add a marshmallow mountain (Althea approves), and enjoy while unraveling Thornfield’s secrets.

Optional Toppings:

• Whipped cream
• Marshmallows
• Caramel drizzle
• Crushed peppermint
• Cinnamon sprinkle
• A pinch of sea salt (Carly’s quiet favorite)

Download a printable recipe here!

Meet Whiskerina — Carly’s newly adopted kitten who arrived at Thornfield Manor with more personality than any cat her size should logically have.

She naps like a champion… stares at empty corners a little too often… and may (or may not) be able to sense the same things Althea does.

Today, she’s offering you something special: A cozy cottage coloring page

Inspired by Thornfield’s magical charm — and perfect for a warm drink, a quiet moment, or an escape into Carly’s world.

But that’s not all…

Bonus: Your Whispers of Witchcraft character cards!

Get to know Carly, Althea, Lester, and Whiskerina with beautifully illustrated cards you can save, print, or collect as you explore the series.

Download everything below:

Click here to download your coloring page + character cards
(You’ll receive a ZIP file with the coloring page and all four character cards.)

Settle in and enjoy a little magic from Thornfield Manor.

A flicker… a whisper… a mystery waiting to be pieced together.

In Thornfield Manor, a candle only glows this brightly when something new is about to begin.

And today?

It’s your turn to follow the light.

A curious image appeared on Althea’s dining table — a puzzling vision showing Carly’s very first steps onto Thornfield’s grounds. Althea thinks the spirits are nudging you toward a clue… but the message is scrambled.

Can you piece it together?

Settle in with something warm, light the nearest candle (just in case), and try your hand at this cozy, slightly-spooky Thornfield Manor Jigsaw Puzzle featuring Carly’s arrival scene.

Click here to play the puzzle!

(A perfect companion for tea, blankets, and mildly haunted evenings.)

Althea always says the herbs in her kitchen have minds of their own — shifting, rearranging, and whispering secrets when a mystery is near.

Today? They’re definitely up to something.

In fact… something in this cozy Thornfield kitchen has changed.

Ten things, to be exact. 

Your mission:
Search both enchanted kitchen scenes and find all 10 differences hidden among:

• the bubbling pot,
• the drying herbs,
• the spell-stained recipe book,
• and all the little magical oddities that never stay put for long.

Some differences are playful.

Some are sneaky.

A few might require your sixth sense.

Are your witchy observation skills up to the task?

BEGIN THE MYSTERY

Every story at Thornfield begins with a whisper…

Start Book One of the Whispers of Witchcraft series and meet Carly the moment she steps into her grandmother’s world.

Read Chapter One of Ghostly Gossip below.

Chapter 1

I hadn’t realized I was a witch.  The conversation replayed in my head as I blasted my music and glared down at my screen.  

I blazed through my social media, seeing everything and nothing.  Mostly what I gathered from my incessant scrolling was that all my friends were living their best life, while I was living my worst.  

I stopped my scroll on a picture of my friends.  Bikini-clad and sporting mixed drinks, likely containing alcohol despite our age, they lounged by the pool, duck-faced and posed with plenty of attitude.  

I was supposed to have been there.  But I couldn’t be.  Not now.  Because I was a witch.  

Anger burned through me again as the scenery rolled past me.  Green pasture after endless green pasture.  Instead of the swanky suburb I’d grown up in, I was in the country.  

Why?  Because my parents had the poor judgment to be out late enough to get creamed by a drunk driver.  Neither one survived.  

As if that wasn’t painful enough, instead of stability, I got the boot.  No one could take care of me.  My aunt lived just down the street.  I could have stayed in my neighborhood.  But no.  She couldn’t take me.  

She had her own family.  She didn’t have room for another.

Whispers at the wake suggested she’d swap houses.  My parents had bought the larger house with two extra bedrooms.  We could all fit comfortably there.  

But she whispered back, “I don’t want to do that.  I can’t take care of Carly.  She’s…a witch.”

If I had been six or seven years younger, I may have wondered if I’d get a special invitation delivered by an owl and go to a magic school.  But instead, at seventeen, I’d realized all too well what she was saying.

Aunt Pattie didn’t like me.  She meant I was another thing that sounded very close to “with” but started with another letter of the alphabet.  She didn’t want to say that word, though.  She had a reputation to maintain.  

That of perfect housewife and mother.  Sure, she could have gotten a few more points toward sainthood if she took me in, but with my love for black clothes and the pink and purple streaks in my hair, I didn’t fit her mold.  I’d be a stain on her perfect family.

My cousin Charlotte, a.k.a. Lottie, was the vision of a perfect child.  She had lovely blonde hair she wore long and brushed to perfection.  At almost sixteen, she rarely wore makeup outside of a slick of pretty pink lip gloss.  She stood with perfect posture and was a straight A student.  

No, I didn’t fit in with that family.  And Aunt Pattie made sure I wouldn’t stay in that neighborhood or ever be mistaken for her child.

As I hovered outside the doorway leading to the kitchen, I learned my fate. 

“Who’s she going to live with?  Did Lisa and David name someone in their will?”

Aunt Pattie didn’t answer for a moment.  “I don’t think they had one.  I’m Lisa’s only sister, and David didn’t have any siblings.  There’s only one person who said they’d take her.”

“Who?”

“She’s going to live with Althea.”

The neighbor she spoke to guffawed.  “You’re kidding.  How is that going to work?”

“I don’t know.  All I know is, that’s what’s going to happen.  I can’t take her.  And there’s no one else.  At least she’s not going into the foster system.”

“She may be better off if she did,” another voice answered, with a chuckle.  

My jaw tightened as they discussed my fate like I was an old vacuum cleaner.  

“The woman couldn’t even be bothered to come to her own son’s funeral.”

“Correction,” Aunt Pattie answered, “she was asked not to come.”

A low, rumbling laugh escaped from the next door neighbor.  “Oh, Pattie, you didn’t.”

“I most certainly did.  This is my sister’s funeral.  And it’s not like she and David were close.  They hadn’t spoken in years.  We did not need her and her brand of bizarre at this.  I’m broken up enough.”

Tears stung my eyes, and my nostrils flared.  Aunt Pattie didn’t seem as broken up as someone would be when their only sister just died suddenly.  In fact, she seemed to be loving the attention. 

Though my tears really stemmed from my fate being sealed.  

Grandma Althea?  

She lived in the boonies.  My entire life would be uprooted right before my senior year.

But nothing I said mattered.  And in a matter of days, an old-fashioned black car pulled into the drive.  A white-haired man loaded my luggage into the car.  I said goodbye to my old room, house, and life and slid into the back seat of the boxy vehicle.  

“Be good for your Grandma Althea.  Promise you’ll keep in touch!” Aunt Pattie called loud enough for the entire street to hear.

I slammed the door shut without a word and stuck my earbuds in my ears. I lost myself in my music and tried to drown out my sorrows.  

My social media feed wasn’t helping, though.  Seeing my friends living their best life while I was being shipped off to Thornwood Estate on the fringes of the sleepy town of Midnight Hollow only made things worse.  

My thumb flicked to send the picture from my screen.  Unfortunately, my feed didn’t budge.  I tried again.  Nothing.  

My eyes flicked up to my signal.  Nonexistent.  

I snorted with disdain as I tossed my phone onto the leather seat and slouched down.  I scanned the lush green fields and massive, old trees that lined the country road.  I was really going to hate it here. 

I tried to pass the rest of the time trying to remember what my dad’s mom looked like.  I had a vague memory of meeting an odd woman when I was young, maybe five.  

She smelled funny and wore her hair weird.  She got down on her knees in front of me and leaned close to me, studying my face.  “She’s a Ravenspell, all right.  Look at those dark eyes.  You are a very special girl, Caroline.  You–”

“I think that’s enough of a visit,” my mom said as she shooed the woman away from me and took my hand.  “Time for your bath.”

I didn’t take a bath at that time, but I realized even at that age, my mom wanted me away from her.  I never saw her again.  And now I was stuck living with her.  

I picked at the purple nail polish on my fingernails for the rest of the ride until the car slowed and pulled off onto a long, winding drive.  

I ducked to stare out the window again, pulling my earbuds from my ears.  Jagged spires clawed their way toward the gray sky, their tips lost in the ominous clouds.  

“Looks like a storm’s blowing in.  Don’t you worry about the luggage, though, Miss Caroline, I’ll get it all in safe and sound,” the driver said.

“Whatever,” I answered.  I shoved the buds and my phone into the pocket of my hoodie and pulled the hood up.  The cat ears on it flopped around on my head as the car bounced on the bumpy road.  

Thunder rumbled as the black clouds building on the ridge behind the house inched closer.  The overgrown trees finally parted, and I got my first look at the massive house.  

Thornwood Estate loomed ahead of me like a relic from a forgotten era.  In its day, I bet it had been grand, but now it looked weathered and eerie, like an ancient sentinel guarding secrets whispered from shadowy depths.  

I shivered as thunder rumbled overhead but couldn’t stop myself from leaning closer to the window.  The windows stared back at me like hollow eye sockets.  Faint lights glowed from within, and I wondered what life would be like here.

For a second, I let myself hope it would be better than I hoped.  After all, the house fit with my dark, quirky tendencies.  I tugged on a purple strip of my hair as I forced the hope from my heart.  No, I would hate it here, I decided. 

The car rolled to a stop, and the driver pushed the door open.  The scent of damp earth and decay swept past me, sending a chill down my spine.

I stared up at the ivy climbing the gray stone, and the many chimneys poking into the dark sky.  I missed my house suddenly.  But more than that, I missed my parents.  The realization that this was my life now stabbed at my heart.  

Tears stung my eyes, and a few fell to my cheeks.  I sniffled, annoyed with myself over being sentimental and stupid.  I grabbed my sleeve and wiped my face. 

I didn’t move out of the car, though.  Even though it was stupid, it seemed like if I stepped out onto the driveway, I sealed my fate.  

Obviously, I had to stay here now.  But for some reason, that one step felt so big.  It felt like I was saying goodbye to my old life permanently.  And I didn’t want to.  Maybe by some chance, I could go home.  

I chewed my lower lip and slid my eyes closed, imagining my old house.  I recalled my gray-purple room with its unicorn decals.  I’d left them on the walls even after I’d outgrown them, along with the wispy purple fabric on my white four-poster bed.  

My aunt had asked about sending my furniture, but she had been told it wasn’t needed.  I spent my last night in my own bed before someone took it away to give to charity. 

What would my bed look like here?  What would my room be like?  Dusty and old, my mind filled in.  

I opened my eyes and glanced down the driveway, picturing myself racing past the massive trees and running home.  

A chime from my phone drew my attention away from my desperate daydreams.  

You there yet, Whiskerina?

The nickname brought a fleeting smile to my face but left me feeling melancholy in a split-second.  I licked my lips as I flicked my gaze back to the house, my thumbs hovering over my virtual keyboard.

I could be honest and tell them how apprehensive I felt.  But that wasn’t cool at all.  Before I could answer, another message came through.  I stared down at the picture of all my friends hanging out near Ashley’s pool.

It soured me even more.  My thumbs flew across my keyboard.  

Yeah.  This place looks sick.  I bet it has a pool inside it.  Might not be so bad here.

The response from Emily appeared before I could click off my display.  Until Grandma Weirdo spoils your good time.

I rolled my eyes as the old guy pulled my duffel bag out of the trunk.  

Sophie sent a message next.  Give her some of that famous Carly Cattitude.  Rowl!

I scoffed at the statement and clicked off my display as the man pulled open my door. “Ready, Miss Caroline?”

With a frown on my lips and chip on my shoulder, I grabbed my backpack purse, shoved my phone into my pocket, and stepped out of the car.  The gravel crunched under my feet, and I craned my neck to stare up at the house looming over me. 

“Right this way,” the man said as he carried my glittery pink duffel in one hand.  He looked sort of ridiculous lumbering along with a girly bag in his hand.  I followed him to the antique front door.  It rose high above us, weathered and worn, but still imposing.  

My driver pushed it open.  It creaked with a mournful groan.  Labyrinthine corridors shot off the foyer.  Thunder rumbled and a breeze tinged with iciness swept past me as I stepped over the threshold, feeling like I’d stepped back into another world of antique grandeur.  

My gaze rose, drawn upward by the high vaulted ceiling that hovered over the dark, polished wooden floors.  

Candlelight danced, giving the space a warm glow and adding to the ambiance of the soft lightning glowing from the gothic, antique chandelier with the thick, intricate scrollwork.  

The scent of melting candle wax and dried herbs and flowers lingered in the air.  

The driver swung the door shut, and I caught sight of a massive painting hanging on the wall.  I rubbed my hand over the ornate, gilded frame as I stared into her soulful eyes.  

Frozen in time like a ghostly apparition, she stared out at me.  Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulder, framing her pale skin, deep, obsidian eyes, and velvety red lips that were curled into an enigmatic half-smile.

I matched her expression, finding the painting intriguing.  

“Althea!  We’re here!” 

I snapped my gaze to the man, wiping any amusement off my face.  He stood at the foot of a grand staircase with carved wooden railings snaking their way up toward the next level.  I narrowed my eyes at the ornate woodwork, approaching to touch a wooden leaf on the carved winding vines that wrapped around the railing.  

Footsteps joined the rhythmic ticks of the ancient grandfather clock nestled in the corner of the room.  I startled as thunder boomed, suddenly nervous.  What if my grandmother didn’t want me either?

A figure appeared at the top of the stairs, limned by the light of a two-story window behind her.  Lightning ripped through the sky, illuminating her features.  

Soft, supple skin that defied the number of years she’d spend on the Earth stretched over cheekbones as high as mine.  

Her almost-black hair matched my color except for the silver streaks that framed her face.  She glided down the stairs in a long black dress that hugged her lithe figure and swirled around her ankles as she moved.  

I swallowed hard, more concerned than ever that I’d be sent to the foster system.  She reached the bottom of the stairs and studied me with her sparkling eyes that reminded me of the woman’s in the painting.  

Her naturally colored red lips curled on the edges, and she reached a hand out to touch a lock of my pink hair.  “Hello, Caroline.  I’m your grandmother, Althea.”

“Hi,” I said, my chin lowered to my chest and voice meeker than I thought I’d be at this moment.  

“I trust your trip was easy.”  She shifted her gaze to the driver.  

“Very,” he said.  “I’ll take the bag up.”

“And build a fire in the sitting room, would you?  These storms are supposed to rage all night.”

The man nodded as he carried my bag past my grandmother.  She followed him with her eyes up a few stairs before she turned her attention back to me.

“Well, dear, why don’t we go take a look at your room and see if there are any changes you’d like to make?”  She smiled at me again.  

I hated that I liked her smile, and that she seemed nice.  I had wanted her to be awful.  I had wanted to hate her.  But she seemed determined to make me feel at home.  

I nodded at her, wrapping my hand around the carved banister.  My fingers touched something odd, and I leaned closer to see it.  A leaf hid a tiny key with a crystal attached.  I traced it with my fingernail before I glanced up.

My grandmother grinned at me.  “A lovely detail, don’t you agree?”

I bobbed my head up and down as she slipped her hand around mine.  “I think you’ll find Thornwood has many, many secrets.”

Keep reading Ghostly Gossip!

Psychic witches don’t use wands…
but that’s never stopped Thornfield from collecting a few.

This wand has no magic —
unless you count fun, creativity, and a moment of peace in a haunted manor.

Enjoy a witchy coloring page, perfect for a cozy afternoon break.

Download Coloring Page

Long before Carly ever stepped foot through Thornfield’s iron gates, the manor had a reputation for one gentle, persistent haunting.

Locals tell the story of The Whispering Guest —a kind spirit who appears only when someone in the house feels lost, overwhelmed, or unsure of their path.

Residents never see her clearly.

They report only a soft brush of air, the faint scent of lavender, and a whisper they can’t quite make out…

…but it always comes exactly when they need reassurance.

Some say she was once a traveling herbalist who stayed at Thornfield during a storm and never left.

Others insist she’s tied to the manor’s oldest secrets.

Althea has only said one cryptic thing:

“Not all ghosts linger for sorrow. Some stay to help.”

Want to keep a piece of Thornfield’s magic close?

Download Your Cozy Ghostly Wallpaper (one for your phone and two for your desktop!)

You’ve found Thornfield’s hidden sigil — the mark of balance, intuition, and a perfectly brewed pot of tea.

As a reward for exploring the manor…
Enjoy a special discount on all Whispers of Witchcraft books & bundles.

Use code THORNFIELD20 at checkout to save on any Whispers of Witchcraft items when shopping at shop.nelliehsteele.com