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I was also tasked with speaking to you regarding having drunk both Madeira and port when, and I quote, ‘A sloe gin would have been sufficient for any woman, a creature with little taste and no true needs.’ End quote.” Death could not come soon enough.
“It rained and rained, and I could not sleep for the sound of it against the window. Perhaps an ancient and forgotten god was pouring glass beads out of tired clouds, and I the only one awake in the world to watch them fall.”
Where I have always seen rain, he sees something quite different. Nothing is straightforward for this man, but rather at an angle.
Sleep has not been kind, which I find unfair. There are plenty of villains who maintain a healthy slumber. There are murderers who enjoy blissful repose. But I, having committed this indiscretion, this journal reading, do not rest.
“If I cannot worship in a majestic building, I have no interest in the practice,” she snipped. Which I assume is not a direct quote from the New Testament.
Never trust a man who can say so many things with a single syllable.
It wasn’t until much later in the day that I realised that room was built to intimidate. I was the rabbit. The duke was the hound. Rabbit Room, indeed. The indignity. It was worse than Aunt Eugenia’s Third drawing room. I intend to spend a solid week fuming once I can stop being utterly fascinated at its existence.
Thisbe won’t be sorry when Pyramus returns. She is finding herself acclimatised to his weather.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in a crypt somewhere, for your sins?” Islington asked in a ducal tone. “They evicted me,” I snapped. “Who?” “The dead.”
Then Agnes looked to the duke for confirmation. Imagine! In my own Lapis Lazuli. As if his title held authority inside these walls. Never. I will speak to her about this.
he smiled at Agnes with such kind consideration that Mary and I both witnessed Cupid draw his bow and shoot his arrow through her heart; swift and immediate. She smiled, curtsied, giggled, and ran back into the kitchen.
Who was responsible for the smudge of dried jam on page seventy-three? None other than the second Jane’s sister, who could never read without eating or eat without reading. Apparently, she is now a portly woman who lives in Bristol with a well-stocked library. They all agreed it was a full life.
The countryside in June is rather glorious. There is something about all that green, as seen through the glass window of a train, that makes one feel as if they were the character in a book. Mine would be a tragic comedy.
“Terms of endearment can be quite particular to the couple, don’t you think?” A Jack gleam flashed in his eye. “They certainly are, my sugar plum fairy.”
“Oh, you’ve no need to worry over the expenses, my cherry pie. A man’s duty is a man’s duty. You just keep pretty little things in that pretty little head of yours.” It was at this juncture that mariticide was almost committed in the Rose and Eagle.
“You enjoyed my Rabbit Room, then?” “Yes, and no. I don’t like feeling the prey.” “I have had many rabbits in my Rabbit Room, Miss Lion. Alas, you have not been one of them.”
Our conversation was very June and very Afternoon, meaning it meandered like a honey bee.
Sometimes my obtuseness amazes.
