Thx for all ur earlier reviews!!! made my day!!
Prologue
This is the story of Jenna Toole, the daughter of a poor tailor and a duke's daughter. The first part may seem a little weird, but never fear. It simply tells of the sufferings of Jenna's mother, Bliss. Once you read it, you will understand... Happy reading! Lots of love,
Midnight World
The Beginning
Mrs. Toole was a widow. Her husband, a simple tailor, had died the previous year and left her with five other mouths to feed. Simple! She scoffed at the very sound of that world. Her husband was anything but simple. She worked as a seamstress, bringing home barely enough money to put food on the table. Every night, she sat at the rough, wooden kitchen table in her small cottage, sewing dresses for the aristocracy by meager candlelight. As she did so, she often thought back to the times when she had worn these dresses, and danced in brillantly lit ballrooms. How she longed for those days again!
Mrs. Toole, or Bliss, had once been extremely beautiful. Her hands had once been smooth and white. Her hair had once been pure black, long and shiny. Now, her hands were chapped and brown, but retained their slenderness still. Her hair was streaked with premature silver and cropped short. Her eyes were still their big luminous blue, framed by long, thick lashes. Her face was lined with wrinkles. She still walked with an unconscious grace and regal bearing that caused men to turn their heads and stare. Bliss had once been a daughter of the Duke of Lancaster. Now, she was nobody.
One night, after sending her children to bed, Bliss sat down to finish sewing a lovely cobalt walking gown. She reached into her simple sewing basket for her needle, but it was not where she had left it. Exasperated, she tipped the basket over. Out came a few spools of thread, some buttons, her scissors, and her needle. The last of which was stuck on a blue silk pouch.
Baffled, Bliss hefted the pouch. It felt heavy. She opened it, tipped it over, and a heavy silver ring fell onto her palm. It glinted in the candlelight, and was a sharp contrast to her plain gold wedding band.
She peered at the ring, trying to judge if the ring was expensive enough to be sold off for money to tide her family over for a while. The ring was encircled by small diamonds, and a small rose crystal rested in the centre of the diamonds. Rainbows of light shone into her eyes. Yes, definitely expensive enough, obviously of good quality. The thought shocked her. Had she become grasping, so in need of money that such awful thoughts had entered her head? Her upbringing had taught her better than that!
She winced upon that thought.
Something caught her eye. An inscription on the inside of the ring was engraved. She read, "To my darling daughter Bliss".
Bliss dropped the ring in shock. It clattered loudly on to the table, but she barely noticed. She knew whose ring it was. It was hers.
She remembered her sixteenth birthday, like it was yesterday. In reality, it was 10 years ago. She winced a little. Had time really flown by so fast?
The ring was a sixteenth birthday gift from her father. Ever since her mother died when she was three, her father and her shared a very close relationship. They were more like good friends, really. Her father doted on her and gave her everything she asked for, within reason of course. All that he asked of her was that she married within her own social class. Bliss was more than willing to accommodate this request. Until she met Dave.
Dave was the twenty-year old son of her seamstress. She still remembered the day he came with his mother, carrying heavy bolts of fabric. When he turned and smiled at her, her heart stopped. She was what he had always dreamed of: tall, dark, handsome. Bliss remembered all the crazy ideas he had dreamt up just so he could see her, and she had been swept away.
Dave had approached her father a year later for her hand in marriage. The scene that followed was devastating. It was the first time that her father had actually shouted at her, telling her that if she dared to elope with "that, that insufferable bastard"- as he called Dave, she would be turned out without a farthing. Defiant, she eloped that night.
Her marriage was not happy. Dave spent his time drinking, and was hardly ever around. One day, about seven years after their marriage, he got drunk again and wandered into the path of an approaching carriage. He died on the spot. At that time, she was already pregnant with her fifth child.
Ten years had passed since her elopement. Had not she suffered for her errors long enough? Maybe it was time to make up with her father. Bliss use the last of her notepaper and ink to write a letter to her father, and gave her last coins to her neighbour's eldest son to deliver it. She envisioned him reading the letter, and crying tears of joy that she was apologizing and wanted to come home again. She pictured being welcomed home with open arms and her children becoming perfect little lords and ladies. Bliss waited eagerly for the reply.
The reply never came.
pls review!!!
Prologue
This is the story of Jenna Toole, the daughter of a poor tailor and a duke's daughter. The first part may seem a little weird, but never fear. It simply tells of the sufferings of Jenna's mother, Bliss. Once you read it, you will understand... Happy reading! Lots of love,
Midnight World
The Beginning
Mrs. Toole was a widow. Her husband, a simple tailor, had died the previous year and left her with five other mouths to feed. Simple! She scoffed at the very sound of that world. Her husband was anything but simple. She worked as a seamstress, bringing home barely enough money to put food on the table. Every night, she sat at the rough, wooden kitchen table in her small cottage, sewing dresses for the aristocracy by meager candlelight. As she did so, she often thought back to the times when she had worn these dresses, and danced in brillantly lit ballrooms. How she longed for those days again!
Mrs. Toole, or Bliss, had once been extremely beautiful. Her hands had once been smooth and white. Her hair had once been pure black, long and shiny. Now, her hands were chapped and brown, but retained their slenderness still. Her hair was streaked with premature silver and cropped short. Her eyes were still their big luminous blue, framed by long, thick lashes. Her face was lined with wrinkles. She still walked with an unconscious grace and regal bearing that caused men to turn their heads and stare. Bliss had once been a daughter of the Duke of Lancaster. Now, she was nobody.
One night, after sending her children to bed, Bliss sat down to finish sewing a lovely cobalt walking gown. She reached into her simple sewing basket for her needle, but it was not where she had left it. Exasperated, she tipped the basket over. Out came a few spools of thread, some buttons, her scissors, and her needle. The last of which was stuck on a blue silk pouch.
Baffled, Bliss hefted the pouch. It felt heavy. She opened it, tipped it over, and a heavy silver ring fell onto her palm. It glinted in the candlelight, and was a sharp contrast to her plain gold wedding band.
She peered at the ring, trying to judge if the ring was expensive enough to be sold off for money to tide her family over for a while. The ring was encircled by small diamonds, and a small rose crystal rested in the centre of the diamonds. Rainbows of light shone into her eyes. Yes, definitely expensive enough, obviously of good quality. The thought shocked her. Had she become grasping, so in need of money that such awful thoughts had entered her head? Her upbringing had taught her better than that!
She winced upon that thought.
Something caught her eye. An inscription on the inside of the ring was engraved. She read, "To my darling daughter Bliss".
Bliss dropped the ring in shock. It clattered loudly on to the table, but she barely noticed. She knew whose ring it was. It was hers.
She remembered her sixteenth birthday, like it was yesterday. In reality, it was 10 years ago. She winced a little. Had time really flown by so fast?
The ring was a sixteenth birthday gift from her father. Ever since her mother died when she was three, her father and her shared a very close relationship. They were more like good friends, really. Her father doted on her and gave her everything she asked for, within reason of course. All that he asked of her was that she married within her own social class. Bliss was more than willing to accommodate this request. Until she met Dave.
Dave was the twenty-year old son of her seamstress. She still remembered the day he came with his mother, carrying heavy bolts of fabric. When he turned and smiled at her, her heart stopped. She was what he had always dreamed of: tall, dark, handsome. Bliss remembered all the crazy ideas he had dreamt up just so he could see her, and she had been swept away.
Dave had approached her father a year later for her hand in marriage. The scene that followed was devastating. It was the first time that her father had actually shouted at her, telling her that if she dared to elope with "that, that insufferable bastard"- as he called Dave, she would be turned out without a farthing. Defiant, she eloped that night.
Her marriage was not happy. Dave spent his time drinking, and was hardly ever around. One day, about seven years after their marriage, he got drunk again and wandered into the path of an approaching carriage. He died on the spot. At that time, she was already pregnant with her fifth child.
Ten years had passed since her elopement. Had not she suffered for her errors long enough? Maybe it was time to make up with her father. Bliss use the last of her notepaper and ink to write a letter to her father, and gave her last coins to her neighbour's eldest son to deliver it. She envisioned him reading the letter, and crying tears of joy that she was apologizing and wanted to come home again. She pictured being welcomed home with open arms and her children becoming perfect little lords and ladies. Bliss waited eagerly for the reply.
The reply never came.
pls review!!!