Visual Inspiration – Leenie Brown

View of Bartlett’s Buildings in Holborn by Thomas Hosmer Shepherd

Thomas Hosmer Shepherd, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Well, here’s a rare occurrence these days — a Wednesday post! As I was getting chapter 3 ready to share, this picture popped into my head. I had seen it way back when I was researching things for His Inconvenient Choice, and I simply could not post tomorrow’s chapter without sharing this image with you. Here’s a little snippet from that chapter to go with the image:

The next morning, after a less than restful night of sleep, Richard stood in front of number eight Bartlett’s Buildings and checked the slip of paper in his hand once again to make sure he had arrived where he was supposed to be. It was a tidy little lane of houses, well-cared for, and quite respectable looking. It seemed as if it would be a perfectly acceptable place to live.

He raised his hand, rapped on the door, and waited. There was a shuffling inside, and then a friendly looking man with a quick smile and spectacles perched on his end of his nose opened the door.

[from His Inconvenient Choice]

Choices Series, Books 1-4

The Wedding Dress (Carl Herpfer)

Das Brautkleid , Carl Herpfer (1836-1897), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

I have written three stories that feature Anne as a heroine (so far), and while I have enjoyed fleshing her out in each of those stories, this one just might be my all-time favourite Anne. She is niave, foolish, willful, and every inch her mother’s daughter. It makes for a deviously fun story. And then, there is Alistair who is sensible and stable and so very much in love with Anne and all that she is (even is she does drive him to distraction at times). I hope you enjoy the little bit of story I am sharing below but please be aware that this excerpt is from near the end of the book, so it might contain a spoiler or two. Therefore, if you’ve never read Becoming Entangled, read the rest of this post at your own risk. 😉

Two days later, as Anne stood before her mirror, she carefully positioned her sleeve and gloves so that her mother would not see the bruise on her arm. It was not a large bruise, but Anne knew that it was large enough to cause her mother to inquire after it. She had sworn her cousin and his friend Mr. Bingley, as well as Jack, to silence about the joust at Angelo’s, and she had been careful to keep the paper from her mother’s notice both yesterday and today. She knew that her appearance at Angelo’s would not go unmentioned, especially after the display she had put on following her defeat of Alistair. Her cheeks flushed. It was rather exhilarating to behave so brazenly, but it was not something she planned to repeat or publish any further than it had already been circulated.

“Anne Catherine de Bourgh!” Lady Catherine said as she threw open the door to her daughter’s room.

Anne cringed at the tone of her mother’s voice.

“Lady Metcalfe has just made me aware of a rather shocking story.”

Drat! She had forgotten that Alistair’s mother might see the paper and share the story with her mother.

“What were you thinking? Going to a gentleman’s club and behaving like a…” she waved the paper she held in the air as she sought for the right word, though none seemed to come to her.

As Anne stood before her mirror, a smile spread across her face. She could not remember a single time in her life when her mother had been at a loss for words until now. There was a strange feeling of satisfaction that accompanied the knowledge.

“It was inappropriate,” Anne offered. “And I shall not do it again. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a wedding to attend.”

[from Becoming Entangled]

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A Wedding Reception (George Cain)

“Eine Hochzeitsfeier unter dem Direktorium” Georges Cain, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

She (Lydia) tipped her head as she smiled up at him. Tears hung on her lashes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” he (Marcus) asked.

“For loving me.” She blinked rapidly to keep the tears in their place.

“How could I not,” he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “Are you certain you cannot desert our guests even for a few moments? I should very much like to kiss my wife.”

She giggled. “I think we might be able to slip into the garden for a few moments.” She arched a brow. “I know which paths are not well lit.”

“Have I told you how brilliant you are, Mrs. Dobney?” he asked as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her onto the terrace.

“No, I do not believe you have,” she replied. “Down this path.” She pulled him off to the right and around a corner behind a bush.

He pulled her into his embrace. “You, Mrs. Dobney, are brilliant.”

She smiled. “Not many have ever called me that.”

“I suppose not everyone can be as wise as I,” he tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes. “If they saw what I see, they would agree.”

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“Are you eager to return?” he teased, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

She shook her head. “No, just to be kissed.”

[from the epilogue to the Willow Hall series by Leenie Brown]

Phaeton with Canopy (c. 1755)

[Description: “Phaeton with canopy”, draft by Johann Michael Hoppenhaupt der Ältere (the elder), 1745.] Johann Wilhelm Meil (1733-1805), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

I know the image above is a phaeton and the vehicle below is a curricle, but when I saw this drawing, I couldn’t help but think that it was the very sort of carriage the scheming Miss de Bourgh from Becoming Entangled would drive. 🙂

“You are Alistair’s friend, are you not?”

He nodded.

“And you do know the counties of England, do you not?”

Again, he nodded.

She stood. “Then you will be perfect.” She paused, furrowed her brows, and pursed her lips as if uncertain about something. “Unless, of course, it is not something you are brave enough to do.”

His brows flew halfway to his hairline. “Is it dangerous?”

A small smile played on her lips. “Not if we do it correctly. Now, if you would be so kind as to help me back into my curricle, I must be on my way to the parsonage. I do not wish to be late. Mrs. Collins will be waiting.”

[from Becoming Entangled]

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Heart-Shaped Scenic Card

Heart-Shaped Vintage Card from olddesignshop.com

The colonel had exceptional taste — likely in all things. How could he not if he could name a bird so well, like music, and recite poetry?

“About Colonel Brandon,” their mother prompted when Marianne did not continue speaking. “How did he come to be at our gate?”

Marianne lifted her eyes from the sheet of music on her lap. She would have to imagine how the colonel might sound singing this piece later when there were not so many inquisitive people around to interrupt her musings.

[from Morning Mist one of the novelettes included in Thunder, Mist, and Frost: Nature’s Fury and Delights Anthology 1]

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