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Shades Of Milk and Honey. Home · Shades Of Milk and Honey 5 downloads Views KB Size Report. DOWNLOAD EPUB. Shades of milk and honey. by Kowal, Mary Robinette, 1 Favorite. DOWNLOAD OPTIONS. download 1 file Borrow this book to access EPUB and PDF files. Shades of Milk and Honey is an intimate portrait of Jane Ellsworth, a woman ahead of her time in a version of Regency England where the.

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Shades of Milk and Honey will be released on August 3rd, which is just a You may download it to read or read the sample chapter below. Shades of Milk and Honey is an intimate portrait of Jane Ellsworth, a woman ahead of her time in a version of Regency England where the manipulation of. Buy the eBook Shades of Milk and Honey, The Glamourist Histories by Mary Robinette Kowal online from Australia's leading online eBook store. Download.

You may download it to read in. I will say that of your options, the pdf is of the actual interior and is very, very pretty. The interior designer is Nicola Ferguson and I am particularly in love with the way she has the first page of each chapter set. The Ellsworths of Long Parkmead had the regard of their neighbours in every respect. The Honourable Charles Ellsworth, though a second son, through the generosity of his father had been entrusted with an estate in the neighbourhood of Dorchester.

The Honourable Charles Ellsworth, though a second son, through the generosity of his father had been entrusted with an estate in the neighbourhood of Dorchester. It was well appointed and used only enough glamour to enhance its natural grace, without overlaying so much illusion as to be tasteless. Knowing that, he took pains to set aside some of his income each annum for the provision of his daughters.

The sum was not so large as he wished it might be, but he hoped it would prove enough to attract appropriate husbands for his daughters.

Shades Of Milk and Honey

Of his younger daughter, Melody, he had no concerns, for she had a face made for fortune. His older daughter, Jane, made up for her deficit of beauty with rare taste and talent in the womanly arts. Her skill with glamour, music, and painting was surpassed by none in their neighbourhood and together lent their home the appearance of wealth far beyond their means. His own wife, while young, had seemed all that was desirable, but as her beauty faded she had become a fretting invalid.

He still cherished her from habit, but often he wished that she had somewhat more sense. And so, Jane was his chief concern, and he was determined to see her settled before his passing. Surely some young man would see past her sallow complexion and flat hair of unappealing mousey brown.

Her nose was overlong, though he fancied that in certain lights it served as an outward sign of her strength of character. Ellsworth fingered his own nose, wishing that he had something more to bequeath to Jane than such an appendage. He slashed at the grass with his walking stick and turned to his elder daughter as they walked through the maze comprising the heart of the shrubbery on the south side of the house.

The sunlight reflected off of the plant, bringing a brief bloom to her cheeks. Jane threw her head back and laughed. It was a lovely laugh, at odds with her severe countenance. Are you matchmaking again? He stabbed the ground with his walking stick. I am merely trying to be a good neighbour. If you have so little regard for the FitzCamerons as to shun their relations, then I have misjudged your character.

I am certain that the FitzCamerons will thank you for your courtesy to them. The tall yew hedges hugged the path on either side of them, shielding them from view of the house.

Overhead, the sky arched in a gentle shell of blue. Ellsworth walked in companionable silence beside his daughter, plotting ways to bring her together with Captain Livingston. They turned the last corner of the maze and went up the Long Walk to the house.

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On the steps, he paused. He meant well, but would surely tip his hand to Captain Livingston, who was, after all, several years her junior. She had first met Henry Livingston before the war broke out when he wintered with Lady FitzCameron while his parents were away on the continent.

He had been an attractive boy, with large dark eyes and a thick crop of unruly black hair. Though a favourite of Lady FitzCameron, he had not been back to the estate since, and it was hard to imagine him as a grown man. She shook her head, settled the folds of her muslin frock, and entered the drawing room.

The smell of jasmine nearly overpowered her, burning her nose and making her eyes water. Her younger sister, Melody, who wove folds of glamour in the corner, was evidently the source of the overwhelming aroma. Melody jumped and dropped the folds of glamour in her hands; they dissolved back into the ether from whence she had pulled them.

It was so elegant and. I cannot understand how she managed such a subtle touch. Jane shook her head and went to open the window so the jasmine fragrance could dissipate with more speed. It is hardly surprising that she can manage such delicate folds. Jane took the folds between her fingers and thinned them to a gossamer weight which she could barely feel.

When she stretched them out, they spanned the corner in a fine web. Once she anchored the folds to the corner, the glamour settled into the room, vanishing from view. The gentle scent of honeysuckle filled the air, as if from a sprig of flowers.

It took so little eff ort that she barely felt light-headed. Melody squinted at the corner where Jane had left the web, as if trying to see the invisible folds. It is unbecoming. Not for the first time, she wondered if Melody were nearsighted. She could never handle fine work, even with needlepoint, and her glamour seemed limited to only the broadest strokes. I am so abysmally poor at all of the arts.

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Jane could not help herself. She laughed at her sister. Had I half your beauty I would have more beaus than the largest dowry could settle upon me. Jane was thankful that her back was to her sister, for the sudden flush she felt would have given her away.

She tried to hide the growing attachment she felt towards Mr.

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Dunkirk, particularly since he seemed to have a higher regard for Melody, but his gentle manner drew her to him. Jane turned to her sister, scrutinizing her countenance. She stared into the middle distance as if her cornflower blue eyes were blinded by a radiant image. Jane had seen the same expression on her own plainer face in unguarded moments. She could only hope that Melody had been more cautious in company. She smiled gently at her sister. The drawing room already had a simple theme of palm trees and egrets designed to complement its Egyptian revival furniture.

For the better part of an hour, Jane and Melody twisted and pulled folds of glamour out of the ether. Some of the older threads of glamour in the palm trees had become frayed, making the images lose their resolution. In other places, Jane added more depth to the illusion by creating a breeze to ruffle the fronds of the glamour. Though her breath came quickly and she felt light-headed with the effort of placing so many folds, the effect was well worth such a trifling strain.

Placed in pairs in the corners of the room, the trees seemed to brush the coffered ceiling, accenting its height with their graceful forms. Between each tree, an egret posed in a pool of glamour, waiting an eternity for the copper fish hinted at below its reflection. Simpler folds brought the warm glow of an Egyptian sunset to the room, and the subtle scent of honeysuckle kissed the breeze. When all was settled, Jane seated herself at the pianoforte and pulled a fold of glamour close about her.

She played a simple rondo, catching the notes in the loose fold; when she reached the point where the song repeated, she stopped playing and tied the glamour off. Captured by the glamour, the music continued to play, wrapping around to the beginning of the song with only a tiny pause at the end of the fold. With care, she clipped the small silence at the end of the music and tied it more firmly to the beginning, so the piece repeated seamlessly. Then she stretched the fold of glamour to gossamer thinness until the rondo sounded as if it played in the far distance.

The door to the drawing room opened. Melody leapt to her feet with a naked expression of welcome on her face. Jane rose slowly, trying to attain a more seemly display.

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She placed her hand on the pianoforte as the room spun about her with the lingering effects of working glamour. But only their father entered the room. He looked around the drawing room in evident pleasure. They looked for all the world as if they were going hunting. Are you certain you did not mistake his meaning? What has gotten into the child? Ellsworth turned to Jane with his eyebrows high. Ellsworth nodded, evidently satisfied with that reassurance. Jane hurried to the window and peered out.

Melody strode across their lawn, heading for the fields between their home and Banbree Manor. Jane caught her breath. Jane nodded, though she wanted to tell her father to let Melody do as she would. Let the headstrong girl make a fool of herself. The rational part of Jane knew that Melody was not her obstacle to Mr. Jane was too plain and too quiet to engender any interest in him or any other gentleman.

Jane turned from the window and sat at the pianoforte. She loosened the fold around it, silencing the distant song. Quietly, she began to play, losing herself in the music. Her fingers played across the keys and stroked thin folds of glamour on the ebony and ivory surfaces. Colours swirled around her in answer to the sound. She welcomed the lightheadness, which came with too much glamour, as a distraction from her cares.

When the front door opened, Jane kept her attention on the pianoforte; she did not want to speak with Melody and have to comfort her. But that was unjust; Melody could not know how her actions aff ected Jane. Dunkirk stood in the door to the drawing room. His face was alight with wonder. I had told your sister I would call, and am later than I intended.

You have just missed her; she has gone for a walk with my father. She would not swoon in front of him.

May I offer you tea or a brandy? Music and the other womanly arts are what brings comfort to a home. General Format: English Number Of Pages: Digital original. Help Centre.

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