– ‘The Magic Of Wor(l)ds’ blog is a hobby, reviews and other bookish stuff on this site are done for free. –
Today I’m on the ‘The Peacock Bottle’ blogtour, organised by Rachel’s Random Resources.
To promote Angela Rigley her book I have an excerpt, but before I let you read it first some ‘basic’ information.
About the Author :
Married to Don, I have 5 children and 9 grandchildren, I live in Derbyshire, England, and enjoy researching my family tree (having found ancestors as far back as 1465), reading, gardening, playing Scrabble, meals out and family gatherings. I am the treasurer of my writing club, Eastwood Writers’ Group, and I also write and record Thoughts for the Day for Radio Nottingham. At church I sing in the choir and am an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion, a reader, a flower arranger and a member of the fundraising team for Cafod, my favourite charity. I have written hymns, although I cannot read music.
In this Victorian dual timeline novel, Amelia Wise feels a jolt when she finds a blue perfume bottle in the overgrown garden of the house she has inherited. Several events in her life mirrors those from the past and, with the help of her newfound cousin, Olivia, the bottle’s secret is uncovered.
Chapter 1 of The Peacock Bottle, a dual timeline set in Cockermouth in what was the county of Cumberland. Amelia finds a door in the garden of the dilapidated house she has inherited, and is intrigued to find out what is behind it:
Alice Howe 1893
The rusty key turned. Trembling with excitement, Amelia Wise thrust aside the trailing ivy that covered the old oak door and pushed. But the door would not budge. She spat on the key to see if that helped.
I had better not dab it on my one-and-only faded, patched dress, even if it is second-hand, she thought. A muddy puddle had wet it earlier, and rust marks would add to the mess.
After a wipe on the green moss in the stone wall, she inserted the key once more, turning it backwards and forwards, twisting it from side to side. “Why won’t you open?” she yelled.
A robin flew out of the ivy high above her and she took a step back, pushing her unruly curls off her face. Large oak trees stood each side of the door, blocking the view of everything behind the wall, even from her bedroom window.
With a concerted effort she leaned against the door. A slight movement gave her encouragement to try again. It yielded a little, but not enough to open. She tried and tried until she finally slumped to the ground, exhausted. “I won’t let you beat me,” she vowed. “I’ll keep trying until you reveal your secrets.”
Amelia had only heard about Alice Howe three weeks before. Her father, Mark Wise, had left the house to her in his will. Apparently, it had been in his family for generations, or so she had been told, but he had fallen out with everybody and moved away, so it had gone to wrack and ruin.
She and her stepmother scrubbed and cleaned every day, helped by a footman and two maids from the village. One, Patience, was not much older than her sixteen years, and the other, Jenny, was even younger.
“Treat your new life as an adventure,” her stepmother had replied to her protestations. Well, today is my adventure, but if I can’t open this door, I shall be most vexed and adventureless.
The Magic Of Wor(l)ds