The Chocolate Maker's Wife Quotes

“She would toss in everything from mint, which signified virtue, to honeysuckle for love, fennel for strength (it was very strong in taste) and peppermint for warmth of feeling. Mint also helped settle upset stomachs and the apothecary told Rosamund fennel would ease flatulence, which made her chuckle. She would be sure to add some to Sam's chocolate. Hyssop and anise seed, she knew from Widow Cecily back at Gravesend, would help with a cold, as would marshmallow and orange or lemon juice.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“I think people need normality at a time like this. It's the least we can offer."
"And chocolate," she said softly, smiling at him.
They locked eyes, liquid mahogany and shining cobalt.
"And chocolate," he repeated, staring at her lips as if he would drink from them.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“To conclude, if God gives you success, use it humbly and far from revenge. If He restores you upon hard conditions, whatever you promise, keep.


--- Charles I's final letter to his son, Charles,
Prince of Wales, 1649”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Cloves sweetened the breath and stoppered up the bowel. A drop of musk or ambergris was likely to inspire passions by firing the lower regions. Rosamund was a little hesitant with these last two lest she unleash something beyond anyone's control. Filip had chuckled when she confessed her fears to him and threatened to advertise these when the place opened.
The varieties of what could be added were endless, as was the transformation even a small sprinkle of something like vanilla or milk could lend the dark fluid. It changed from being a little bitter to luscious.
Likewise, a few extra twists with the molinillo and the consistency altered from gritty to frothy, to smooth as silk, leaving a fine coating on the tongue and throat that could be revisited for hours after. Including a small quantity of chili made the drink hot and spicy; cinnamon made it sweet and even heady.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“These are taken from inside the fruit of the cacao tree-- Theobroma cacao. It means 'food of the gods.'" He beamed. "Si, señora"-- he tipped the tiny pods into her other palm-- "in your hand, you hold the equivalent of ambrosia. An ambrosia we turn into nectar.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Ever since she left Bearwoode Manor there'd been people dictating what she should do, think, feel-- how she should behave. Why, even her grandmother had, but to good purpose. Now for the first time in her life it was as if, like a reptile, she'd shed her skin, abandoned an old version of herself and was ready to strike out anew, every day becoming more resistant to the expectations of others-- of men.
Part of her longed to fly free, not to escape the chocolate house or Blithe Manor, but to relish what these places gave her-- freedom and safety, and within those bounds, the liberties they bestowed.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“I don't know what it is about Rosamund today, but she's shining like King Midas on a dull day. Everything she touches is turning to gold-- gold dipped in diamonds and sprinkled with sunshine.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“I know you do not take kindly to roaring boys and thugs. I know you to be brave, kind and curious, that you delight an old bookseller with your intelligence, that you give even street urchins and ragamuffins a chance. I know you to see good in those others refuse to, and to be accomplished with the chocolate.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“She had devoted time to improving her reading and was now more than proficient. The shelf she'd first cleared with Bianca overflowed with tales of King Arthur and his knights, Ovid's poetry, plays by Sophocles, Aristotle and Aeschylus, Apuleius, names she loved repeating in her mind because the mere sound of them conjured the drama, pageantry, passion, transformations and suffering of their heroes and heroines. One of her favorite writers was Geoffrey Chaucer-- his poems of pilgrims exchanging stories as they traveled to a shrine in Canterbury were both heart aching and often sidesplittingly funny.
Admittedly, one of the reasons she loved Chaucer was because she could read him for herself. It was the same reason she picked up Shakespeare over and over, and the works of Margaret Cavendish, the Duchess of Newcastle upon Tyne. They all wrote in English. Regarded as quite the eccentric, the duchess was a woman of learning who, like Rosamund, was self-taught. Her autobiography, A True Relation of my Birth, Breeding and Life, a gift from Mr. Henderson, gave Rosamund a model to emulate. Here was a woman who dared to consider not only philosophy, science, astronomy and romance, but to write about her reflections and discoveries in insightful ways. Defying her critics, she determined that women were men's intellectual equal, possessed of as quick a wit and as many subtleties if only given the means to express themselves-- in other words, access to education.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Together they read plays and poems by William Shakespeare and Thomas Hobbes's Leviathan, and Bianca translated some of Ovid's poetry for her as well as parts of Homer's great works. They relished the poems of Andrew Marvell, John Dryden and John Milton. They read excerpts from the King James Bible, as well as passages from books of history, gardening, medicine and more.
The closet wasn't much, but it was Rosamund's, especially now it bore no resemblance to its former owner. It was her cave in which, like Ali Baba, she kept her trove of treasured ideas and growing knowledge, but could open and close it at will with the key hanging around her neck. It was in this room that Rosamund finally started to feel a sense of belonging.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Resting a hand on her stomach, she felt a rush of heat fill her body. Though the child within didn't show yet, she would be born in a new world, a world where she had both a mother and a father and a ready-made unconventional family to cherish her, give her strength, love, protection and tell her oh-so-many marvelous stories. She would one day know pain- one could not live and grow without it- but, not abuse. She would never be abandoned, except to the sunshiny blessedness of wonderment. In her world, curiosity would be her breakfast, imagination her dinner and the dreamy silkiness of chocolate and words her supper.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“If there's one thing money does buy, it's the leisure of time-- to make decisions. Better still, to make the right ones.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“The important thing is not to get swallowed by the darkness. To remember, even when the shadows grow long and you fear they will consume you, there's still light in the world. You just need to find it.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“There are always three sides to every story: yours, theirs and God's.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“What was the Phoenix in the end but a roof and walls? Much had happened beneath and within them-- happiness, discovery, death and love. But it was the people-- both in the kitchen and those they served-- who made the chocolate house what it was.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“It was easy to be a friend when times were good. It was in hard times that true friends revealed themselves. Their friendship had been forged in the hottest of fires and fused them into family.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“George Fox believes that all outward strife and wars are against the will of God and urges that Friends take no part in them. It's called his Testimony to Peace. He has written to the King many times, asking that the persecution of those who would never offer harm but seek only to worship God in their own way be put aside and that they be left to practice their faith."
"I might have been listening, but I don't think the King is," said Rosamund quietly.
"Like all those he has thrown in prison, I know he is not," agreed Bianca.
"Bianca," said Rosamund carefully, "if one day you should happen to meet with these Friends... I think I would like to meet them too."
Bianca regarded her quietly. "If one day I do... and it is safe... you will.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“From what I understand, signora, the Quakers, who are also known as Friends, are a small group of devout people who worship in silence, believing no one person can interpret the word of the Lord but all have the Light of God in them. When it shines, whoever feels it may address others--- the Friends--- who gather for meetings. They believe that under the loving eyes of God the Father, all men and women are equal."
"Equal? Men and women?" Rosamund could scarce believe it.
"Men and women, the nobles and the poor, the gentry and the servants-- even those with dusky skins or cream. All the same."
"And they worship in silence? How?"
"By communing with God in their own way.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“A devil and an angel would see the beauty in each other and joy would be reborn, tenfold, a hundredfold; joy with all its bittersweet promise.
And love. One could not forget love.
Or a bowl of sweet, dark chocolate.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Leaning in until her lips almost touched his, she took in his breath, his life force, allowing the scents of musk and cinnamon and the heady spiciness of chocolate she always associated with him to capture and hold her, as it always had--- as he always had.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Look to yourself, Matthew, please. I'll not forgive you if you don't return this time."
"You admit you'll miss me, then?" Even as death drew closer, he could make a joke.
"Just a little," she conceded.
With a laugh that was half cry, she pulled his face toward her and pressed her soft lips into his firm ones. All at once, the slow roar of the fire that had underpinned their entire journey dulled. The faces of those nearby disappeared as she stared at the man whose mouth captured hers. Leaning into him, she felt a heat that had nothing to do with the approaching conflagration rise, and she melded her body to his, found the crevices and planes into which her own flesh fitted so perfectly.
With a deep, urgent moan, it was Matthew who pushed her away this time, his eyes molten with desire. "Do that again and I may burn where we stand," he said hoarsely.
"I'd rather that than risk you in the fire”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“If anyone had ever dared to suggest to Rosamund that Matthew Lovelace and Aubrey Blithman had anything in common, she would have dismissed them with sharp words for having the temerity to compare chocolate to bilge water.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“For a fleeting second, he'd thought her Helene returned from the dead, but as he swiftly drank in her features, watched the way the anger left her eyes but not the passion that fueled it, and then saw her offer compassion and justice to the two rogues, he knew this was no Helene reincarnated but a wondrous woman who, already, drew him the way shrines did pilgrims.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Matthew?" Pure, sweet and with a joyous inflection that rang with disbelief and hope all at once, it floated above all other sounds.
His eyes slid from the men waiting to hear his news to search for the lips bearing his name.
In all his imaginings, he hadn't pictured her like this. A lush, pearly-haired goddess with rosy cheeks, vibrant, flashing eyes and laughing mouth made her way toward him, acknowledging those who would detain her, including some young rakes who reached out in yearning. She smiled them aside and with a mere touch of her slender fingers parted shoulders the way God did oceans. Her forest-green dress made her look like a sylvan goddess comes to play among the mortals.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Aye, that was him in a nutshell, veiled in secrets and stories, dark smuts that would either stick or be cleaned away. In the semidarkness, he was more shadow than person, more darkness than light. The devil was incarnate, sitting opposite, making secret pacts with her, asking her to sign over her soul.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“I pray you do not judge me by what is written there..."
Rosamund glanced down at the papers in her hands. "But if a man cannot be judged by his words, good sir, then pray, how does one judge him?"
Mr. Nessuno stepped closer, his cerulean eyes capturing hers. "By his deeds, my lady, by his deeds."
The sincerity of the statement made her catch her breath. She laughed to cover how very disconcerting she found his nearness. The smell of him reminded her of the chocolate kitchen, the headiness and rich spice. She stepped back and struck him lightly with the pages.
"That is true, sir, unless, I assume, one is a correspondent. Then, surely, words--- the weapon he wields--- maketh the man?”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Is that not the Lord's duty? To smite sinners?"
"If that were the case, my lady, I would be smitten where I stand.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“For the first time in her life Rosamund was judge and executioner and she liked it not. Maybe if she showed clemency, then one day these boys might as well.
"I would let them go."
Ben's eyes widened. Jed began to raise his head.
"Are you sure, madam?" asked the man, glowering at the two rogues, who quickly looked away.
Rosamund nodded. "I would let them go so they might leave this place and never return, for if ever I see them again I will make certain justice is served."
Lowering his sword, the man stared at her as if, like a mythic maiden, she'd been transformed from alabaster into flesh.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Your father didn't raise me out of the gutter but lifted me off a road. A road I chose of my own volition, taking my own path." He didn't need to know the details, and Rosamund was certain Jacopo wasn't about to enlighten him. Drawing herself up, her chocolate eyes flashed. "And yes, I am Lady Blithman and as such, I take my responsibilities to the name, and my staff and my friends, very seriously. You're right. This is nothing to do with Mr. Lovelace, and everything to do with my duty to those who need me.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife

“Whatcha do to him?" asked Wat, striding over to his master, shaking him. When there was no response, he turned to her and snarled. "If I find out you've done anything..."
"You'll do what? Tell me," said Rosamund, smiling sweetly. "Complain I didn't press charges after you stole those candlesticks from your master, or the silver urn?"
"I didn't steal them from my master---he was dead."
"Oh, I wasn't referring to Sir Everard---" Rosamund gave a pointed look at Aubrey. "According to your new master, this is his house. His property. And that includes everything within its walls."
Understanding he'd just admitted to the crime, Wat ceased to challenge her and, with a groan, heaved Aubrey up under the arms and managed to throw him across his shoulders.
"I think your master needs a good rest," said Rosamund, following him from the room.
Flashing her a look of pure resentment, Wat knew better than to argue this time. The young woman he'd left to fend for herself was not the same one he faced now.”
― Karen Brooks, The Chocolate Maker's Wife