Thistlemarsh Quotes

“The evening was remarkably fine for early spring. Thistlemarsh Hall lay against the lawn like a forlorn jewelry box, framed in unruly embroidered green velvet. Mouse’s father had designed the gardens as an intricate pattern of interweaving vines to complement the Elizabethan splendor of the architecture. The Hall’s towers sprang from each corner, carved with flowers and thistles. The mass of windows along each side meant that the sun could shine through the house at certainties of day, illuminating the inside.”
― Moorea Corrigan, Thistlemarsh

“Even the smoggy city became a tapestry of magic when painted with her mother’s words. When the other women gathered to wash their clothes and linen in the basement of the tenement building, her mother would recount the tale of the Faerie of Gold Bottom Lake, who, if caught in the form of a fish, would grant wishes. When they would walk through the busy streets to the market, she would tell of Tom Bluebell, who connected the top of London Bridge to Faerie Land with the touch of his finger.”
― Moorea Corrigan, Thistlemarsh

“Thistlemarsh itself nourished her during this time, like the hand of her mother reaching out to her through time. The passageways house the stories from Lady Blakeney’s Tales, becoming the glens and snowcapped mountains in Mouse’s imagination.
Mr. Hobb, the groundskeeper, indulged her as they attempted to imagine the purpose of the hidden rooms. Mouse was always ready for them to be Faerie spy nooks, where they could catalog the offenses of their human hosts. Though he did not stifle her speculation, Mr. Hobb thought they were only built to keep the servants out of sight of guests.”
― Moorea Corrigan, Thistlemarsh

“The station walls boasted an intricate mosaic. A string of figures walked across it, some Faerie, some human. Roses wrapped around their feet, the petals caressing them while the thorns bit into their clothes.
The Faeries’ painted forms were elevated, every feature exaggerated into something divine. Mouse doubted that the famed first mortal king of England, Alfred, looked quite so handsome as he did on the station wall. Next to him stood a tall, dark-haired Faerie with a billowing black cloak. He was a figure familiar to every child in England: Oberon, the former king of the Faeries.
Further down the line, Queen Elizabeth Tudor exuded graceful beauty, her face framed by a striking white frill and her clothing contrasting that of the Faerie King at her side, adorned with her crown of gold. Her skin was as pale and flawless as his, a sun to his moon.
Oberon walked beside another two English monarchs before another Faerie took his place: a golden-haired Faerie woman with a gown as white as a dove. This pattern of Faerie and mortal monarchs continued until it ended in a final tableau of a befuddled George III pushed behind a young George IV, both gazing after the Faerie man striding out in front of them. That was where the mosaic ended, with the final Faerie King’s face cut in half at the arched doorway. On the other side of the doorway, an image of Queen Victoria stood alone, looking back at the parade of mortal rulers and Faerie monarchs behind her.”
― Moorea Corrigan, Thistlemarsh