Hope was a slippery thing. Sometimes in the dead of night Porphyria feared that all her youthful expectations had turned to ashes, that she would spend her best years reading wearisome books to wearisome old women, serving wearisome people or tending their wearisome children.
Hope was a slippery thing. Sometimes in the dead of night Porphyria feared that all her youthful expectations had turned to ashes, that she would spend her best years reading wearisome books to wearisome old women, serving wearisome people or tending their wearisome children.
Today's #ootd is an 1883 Paisley Shawl Teagown from Edinburgh. The back is reminiscent of the Robe a la Francaise from 100 years earlier. @AbdnArtMuseums#FashionHistory
Flaming June is a painting by Sir Frederic Leighton, produced in 1895. It is widely considered to be #Leighton's magnum opus, showing his classicist nature. (Museo de Arte de Ponce, Puerto Rico)
We've been treated to some lovely sunrises and sunsets recently.
Return to the overcast today with a cheeky, impatient toddler of wind blowing here and there !
Here's to a great #MondayMorning, and if the real world gets to be too much, slip away to https://t.co/Ad6hWj01xC to enter a world of mystery and haunting Regency elegance. You won't be sorry.
There are now, for a limited time, four free chapters of the Night Whisperer to read!
My #SundayThoughts are dark and dreamy, like my soul. I intend to enter a world of elegant mystery where nothing is as it seems by visiting https://t.co/Ad6hWj01xC
For a short time only, you can read four free chapters of The Night Whisperer by Ornella Grey.
My #SundayThoughts are dark and dreamy, like my soul. I intend to enter a world of elegant mystery where nothing is as it seems by visiting https://t.co/Ad6hWj01xC
For a short time only, you can read four free chapters of The Night Whisperer by Ornella Grey.
Diary 38.5: “Good God. Do you need a doctor?”
“I don’t think so. They’re not very deep.”
“This one barely missed your eye. What did this?”
“I believe it was your owl,” he said. “I don’t think it likes me.”
“It was in the crypt? But how? There are no windows there."
Diary 39.3: “What were you doing in the crypts when it attacked you?” I asked J.
His eyes mocked me. “I was examining the tombs.”
“Which ones?”
“Several of them.”
“Cave ne exeat?”
He looked away without a word.
My anger rose. “Was that where the owl attacked you?”
J shrugged.
Diary 38.3: Later in the drawing room, I found J sitting in an armchair staring at the fire.
“Did you find the gold then?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow humorlessly. “No, but I did see a fox in your garden,” he said. “And something attacked me in the cellar.”
My #SaturdayThoughts are dark and romantic. If you want to explore a world of elegant mystery where nothing is quite as it seems, visit https://t.co/Ad6hWj01xC
This portal leads to a secret garden of mystery and adventure.
Visit https://t.co/Ad6hWj01xC and enter a world of elegant menace where nothing is what it seems to be. #SaturdayMorning
Diary 31: I'm going to stay at the Ritz in Paris for a few days. J is going to meet me there. I've felt a presence in this house for a long time. At first, it was almost comforting. Now it makes me uneasy.
The book isn't finished, but it will have to wait. My sanity is at risk.