‘I’m bored, Percy, and restless.’ I took up a stiletto and flicked it in the direction of the especially erected target in the salon. ‘All the ladies do is gossip and giggle and spend hours discussing lengths of lace and flaunting the provenance of their escorts.’ I took up another stiletto after the first had gratifyingly entered the painted face of my target, the next punctuating the chest and damn near hitting X marks the spot. ‘And Gad, what have I to offer? My escort appears to be a figment of my imagination.’ I sighed. ‘Take me falconing Percy, I’ve a wish to get away from the canals.’
Rachelle Gardner, Literary Agent’s blog today,
(http://cba-ramblings.blogspot.com/2010/03/lets-hear-it-for-old-fashioned-books.html) talked about good old-fashioned books, the real deal. As opposed to the new e-readers.
Patricia Sweet continues the intriguing story of ‘The Masked Ball.’ . . .
A letter from Vittoria!
“…and I cannot thank you enough for taking my part about the mask. My Aunt doesn’t understand how important it is that I make an impression on a certain person and his family! If we hadn’t met at Signorina Brabante’s conversazione last week, I would never have known of the existence of the most wonderful, the most handsome, the most admirable-in-all-ways man I have ever seen!!! When you pointed him out to me I near swooned with mingled apprehension and desire, as my innocent heart was pierced with a flaming arrow of love that clove my breast and spilled my very Soul into the aether, my blushes setting my cheeks afire with a sign of my passion that he could not help but see. But I will reserve till our next meeting, the true extent of my regard for him.
Niccolo De Fleury
Well! Having asked to escort me to the Masked Ball and depositing a roll of white beaded silk georgette for my gown on the table, Ser Niccolo de Fleury has disappeared as if he had never been.
My other partner in crime in this jaunt through a costume drama toward the night of the Masked Ball has sent another post. Rebecca introduces her alter-ego, Sarina.
I have much to disclose to you and little time in which to do it, so please forgive me if I neglect some of the usual niceties. You must arrange to be in Veniche on 1st May. I know how you dislike leaving your estates for what you term the frivolity of town life, but indeed, there is no choice.
My writing life has the capacity to be chaotic at the moment. Flittering from one direction is the fine-tuning of Paperweights, from another comes the continued creation of the story of The Shifu Cloth, from another direction still comes the writing of a short-story for Bo Press’s new limited edition Masked Ball box and book, and from the busiest corner of all, the development of the ‘virtual’ Masked Ball.
Whilst you all know me as Mesmered, for the night of the Ball you may call me Lucia Brabante and until today, I was excited to be attending. I was sure Ser Richard Armitage, an entrancing visitor to Veniche, would ask to escort me.
The invitation to the Ball. I hope you will all come. RSVP in your comments and be eligible to win a signed set of The Stumpwork Robe and The Last Stitch by author, Prue Batten.
For one point: describe your absolute ‘must have’ in your Ball reticule.
I am still completely snowed under with edits, so my other dear long-distance friend, Rebecca Bingham, has agreed to guest-blog. She, along with Pat, has also agreed to help organise the Ball which is proving more fun than we could possibly have imagined and heavens knows its imagination that is oiling the whole machine.
Building a Mask, Part Two by Pat Sweet, my inimitable guest blogger . . .
A letter from Signora Neroni!
“….my niece Vittoria, whose first season in Society was not the success her mother could have wished. Vittoria is an amiable child, but still hobbledehoy, and one of those girls who cannot dance a single quadrille without looking as though she has been pulled backwards through a hedge. Annietta has persuaded me to give her a season here in Veniche. We hope it will be like a greengrocer who pulls off the battered outer leaves of a cabbage to give it a crisper look. Vittoria is determined to appear at the masquerade costumed as a unicorn, a delicate compliment, as she sees it, to a youth in whose family coat of arms it figures, and with whom she is besotted. The mask she has ordered would instill a hearty respect in the bravest hero, for the horn’s an ell if it’s an inch, and the end of the animal’s nose extends a good two feet from her own.