Today, I am reaching into Georgiana’s Music Folder and am including both a beautiful instrumental version of this song that has a wonderful storytelling video with it and a lovely vocal version so that you can hear the lyrics.
The instrumental version has this bit of information about the song as part of the introduction. I typed it out here so that it would be easier to read. It’s a beautiful story.
“Thomas Moore, the Irish Poet, upon his return home from war, found his wife to be unwilling to let him see her. During his tour abroad, she had contracted smallpox, disfiguring enough to hide her face from him. Ever devoted to her and their love, Thomas penned a song that he sang softly to her through the bedroom door. He was hoping to woo her back into his graces and to once again see her face.”
Published to YouTube by Jenny Oaks Baker on February 9, 2015.
Published to YouTube by JamesPigBandit on November 28, 2010.
There is a story connection that goes with this song, but I am not revealing that today. I’ll let you discover it on Thursday in the last chapter of Loving Lydia. 🙂 If you’re the sentimental softy sort like I am, you might want to have a tissue handy for that last chapter, just in case your eyes get misty. 😉 At least, I hope I’m not the only one who needed a tissue as I did when writing it and then every time I have read the chapter since. But then, sentimental sweetness (I had read his story about Thomas Moore so that was in my mind) mixed with the end of a story always tugs on my heartstrings.
Because of the story about Thomas Moore which accompanies these videos today, I have chosen not to include a snippet from tomorrow’s Sweet Tuesday story, but I will include an excerpt from a previously published book below so that you are not left without a bit of an interesting tale to start the week off.
My writing news is not very elaborate this week. There are just a few items to mention.
The Massive 2019 Cottage Season sale ends today. Prices will start reverting back to normal tonight.
Loving Lydia concludes this Thursday. You won’t want to miss being part of the wedding breakfasts guests. I am currently working my way through a complete readthrough of the manuscript with the intent of polishing it up a bit before sending it off to a second pair of eyes for a going over.
Apple Blossoms will see Thomas rethinking the decision he made at the end of last week’s chapter. (There is only one more chapter of that story left after this week.)
A Scandal in Springtime might be on pre-order before the end of the week. I had hoped to have it up by tomorrow. However, I am a couple of chapters behind in my editing, so I don’t see the preorder being ready before Thursday at the earliest. The release day is still scheduled for June 4, 2019.
I spent a good deal of time researching this week as I contemplated the next Sweet Tuesday story. That meant less writing time, so all I wrote this week was the second chapter of that story, which does now have a title and a named hero. The title is Her Secret Beau and the hero…well…I’ll let you see this little part.
“I do not see why Grace had to come with us.”
Walter Blakesley peeked over his morning paper to see the source of the comment. She was a fair-looking young lady with a pleasing figure and a dignified carriage. Not his sort. Such an air of grandeur was more likely than not accompanied by fits of temper when the chit did not get her way. He turned his attention back to the news from last night’s soirees.
“And leave her at home?”
Walter chuckled. The mother sounded shocked, but he reckoned that an opinionated young woman spouting her opinions should not come as a surprise to the young lady’s mother. He held his paper in place as if he were reading it but turned his attention to what he was certain was going to be an interesting conversation between mother and daughter as they strolled past where he sat in the garden.
“She has enough gowns for the number of soirees she will be attending. There is no need for her to follow us around from shop to shop.”
“I do not believe we are in a shop.”
He peeked around his paper so he could put a face with the voice of the young lady, most likely the aforementioned Grace, who had just spoken. His lips curled up with pleasure. All the beauty of the first young lady with none of the regal air but a good dose of pertness.
I still have not had time to start my third work in progress, and I am a chapter behind on Persuading Miss Mary. I need to get my editing done so I can get those stories of my plate which will make room for the new stories begging to be told.
I should have the second Dash of Darcy and Companions Cottage Collection Box Set uploaded to all my vendors by the time you read this post, but as I write it, that has not been done. The book description is ready, the formatting is done, and the cover has been made. It really is just a matter of finding the time to upload everything and enter all the information the vendors need. Remember that the first Cottage Collection Box Set, as well as all the individual titles and any duos in which they can be found, will be taken off of all retailer sites except for Amazon this week so that by June 1, it is ready to take its turn in Kindle Unlimited for three months.
And that’s it. 🙂 I look forward to seeing what I can accomplish this week.
Now, how about a story excerpt?
Let’s see, I think maybe this scene from Not An Heiress, which is in Cottage Collection 1, might go well with today’s song choice.
(A bit of a heads up: Shockingly, this book does feature a Mary Bennet with normal womanly desires which despite her intentions to be all that is proper have at this point overpowered her good-girl-ness, and she has, in fact, allowed herself to be completely and utterly ruined by the colonel. You see, good girls, even those who read sermons and can quote scripture, have hormones, too, and they don’t always make the “proper” choice. 😉 )
AN EXCERPT FROM Not An Heiress:
Richard squeezed Mary tighter and kissed the top of her head which lay just below his chin. “Sweetheart, it is morning.”
Mary stirred.
“They will likely open that door soon,” Richard continued.
This comment made Mary’s eyes pop open, and she began to disentangle herself from her sleeping position.
“Oof,” Richard expelled a burst of air. “Careful, Sweetheart, your elbows are not so soft as the rest of you.”
She scowled at him and shook her head. “I am moving as carefully as I can. I do not wish to just tumble onto the floor.”
He helped her off of the sofa and laced his fingers behind his head as he watched her straighten her night rail and secure her dressing gown, a roguish grin on his face. “No, we would not want to tumble you on the floor. At least not right now.”
Mary’s cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Please do not speak of it.” She got down on her hands and knees and searched underneath the piece of furniture he was lying on for her slippers. “It should not have happened, and no one needs to know it did.”
He propped up on an elbow and looked at her as she put on one and then the other slipper. Then he pushed to a sitting position and donned his shirt. He was feeling a bit chilled now that she was not lying on top of him to keep him warm. Her comments were also making him feel a bit uneasy. “We are to marry, are we not?”
Mary sat motionless on the rug, drew a deep breath, and expelled it. She knew there was no denying the fact that they must marry, but still, her heart ached at being the cause of his not being able to achieve his ambitions.
“We are to marry, are we not?” he asked a second time, his heart beginning to beat just a bit faster and not in a pleasant way. When she turned toward him with her lip clenched between her teeth and concern in her eyes, he slid to the floor to sit next to her and pulled her to him.
“We are to marry,” he said.
“I know we should after…” she paused, “our indiscretion, but…”
“No but,” he said firmly. “We are marrying.”
She nodded her head against his chest. “I wish to, and I know I must, but…” Her voice trailed off as she considered what marrying her would do to his chances for the career he desired. She tipped her head up. She could not see his eyes from this position, but she could see the way his jaw was clenched. “You will truly not hate me for not being an heiress? Not now, but in ten years when the children are running wild, and I am a fright?”
His jaw relaxed, and a smile spread across his face as he chuckled. “For one thing, our children will not be running wild. Neither of us would allow it — or at least, you would not. And I shall also be ten years older and quite possibly have a rounded gut and need a cushion for my gouty foot.”
It was her turn to laugh at such an image. “You shall not be fat and gouty, for you do not sit still long enough for such to happen. You may be a bit softer perhaps, but not fat and gouty.”
“And you shall not be a fright. In ten years, you will not even have a grey hair. I quite likely may, however.” He arranged himself so that he could kiss her. “I promise you, Mary, I am attracted to more than your body,” he waggled his brows, “as fine as it is.”
She slapped her hand against his chest. “I asked you not to speak of it.”
“Very well, but you will not be able to make me stop thinking about it.” He kissed her again. “Now, how shall we arrange ourselves to be discovered?”
Mary looked at the window he had opened last night. “One of us could escape. The rain has stopped, and doors will be open.”
“Are you trying to desert me before we have even made our understanding known?” He said it teasingly, but secretly, he feared she might.
She shook her head. “No, I have given my word and will not renege.”
He studied her face for a moment. “Are you certain?”
She was about to assure him that she was indeed certain when there was a rattling of a key in the lock, and she scrambled to her feet and flew to a chair near the window a great distance from him. It was bad enough that she had allowed her desires to overtake her good sense. It would be far worse to let anyone else know that she had done so.
Richard moved more slowly from the floor and sauntered over to the desk where his partially written letter still lay. He smiled at the words as he read them. Then, he folded the paper so that his words — the scribblings of a lovesick man — would not be seen by his cousin or whoever was about to enter the room.
Bingley nudged the door open and peeked his head around it. “Is it safe to enter?” he asked with a smirk.
“As you can see,” said Richard gruffly.
“Do you still wish to go for a ride?” Bingley asked, giving a nod of greeting to Mary.
“Perhaps later,” Richard replied. “At present, I would like to go to my room and make myself ready for the day, and then I would like some breakfast. And I am certain Miss Mary would like to do the same.”
“Oh, of course,” said Bingley, waving to the door. “I am to tell you, however, that Lady Catherine would like to see you as soon as possible.” He glanced toward Mary. “Both of you.”
Richard sighed. “We had expected as much, had we not, Sweetheart?”
Mary’s eyes grew wide at the term of endearment, and she gave him a little shake of her head and a pleading look. “Yes, Colonel, I do believe we discussed that possibility.” She rose from her chair with as much dignity as one who is found in a locked room with a partially dressed man and wearing her night clothes could.
Richard extended his hand to her. “Allow me to see you to your room, Miss Mary.”
She breathed a sigh of relief that he had not addressed her as sweetheart again. As much as she enjoyed hearing him say it, it was not exactly the best way to be addressing her dressed as they were and in the predicament in which they found themselves. No one needed to know the particulars of what had transpired, at least not yet, maybe never, and such familiarity would give rise to too much suspicion. She thanked him and placed her hand on his arm.
He paused for a moment before escorting her from the room. “And where might I find my cousin this fine morning?” His tone was nonchalant, but Bingley looked very much as if he realized Richard was anything but blasé.
“I am not supposed to say,” Bingley whispered, “but he is in your room, waiting for you.” He looked apologetically at Mary. “And your sisters are in your room, I am afraid. They thought it best to discuss the ramifications of your predicament privately.”
Richard shrugged. “I suppose ambushing us in our rooms is better than attacking us in here.”
“Well,” said Mary, looking sternly at Richard, “I, for one, am glad for the arrangement.”
Richard’s replying smile was full of mischief. “Then I shall be glad as well, Sweetheart.”
Mary sighed and allowed him to lead her from the room.
~*~*~
Lots of news! Oh-my-goodness! You nearly made me cry. I felt something on my cheek and realized it was a tear I didn’t even know was there. Heavy sigh! What a story about Morton and his family. Wow! The music in both videos was beautiful and haunting. Wishing you the best on all your endeavors and much success. I hope they exceed your expectations. That excerpt was hilarious. I loved that series. Mary and the Colonel were so cute. I just love him. Thanks for sharing.
I’ve always liked that song but then when the story is added to it. Wow. It’s very moving indeed. Thanks for the good wishes, and I have to say that Not an Heiress still remains one of my favourites. It’s such a fun story.
Grrr!! Moore not Morton.