This week, we finally managed to install our new (not new ) item of furniture - a mid-18th Century grandfather clock. It's not bright and shiny like more modern ones, but a dark oak with a warm patina which the beeswax polish is drawing out. In order to set it up, we had to do a certain amount of research - how to hang the pendulum, where the weight went on the endless chain - and it got me thinking... where and when did certain divisions of time come from? The time periods which I have written either had household clocks or didn't, I have not written novels from the time of their invention. Clocks have been around for a long time, and the obsession with measuring time in an ordered fashion dates back to at least the ancient Sumerians. It was they who established a circular reading of time and, I imagine, the sixty seconds/minutes came about as much because it was an easy way to divide a circle as anything else. But it wasn't until much later that the precision of seconds ...
This week for #HistFicThursdays, I'm delighted to once again be teaming up with The Coffee Pot Book Club for author Holly Bush's blog tour! Today, I'm sharing an excerpt from her new release, The Captain's Woman!
First of all, let's meet the book...
Meet the Thompsons of Locust Street, an unconventional family taking Philadelphia high society by storm…
1870 ~ Muireall Thompson has taken her duties seriously since her parents died on the family’s crossing from Scotland to America in 1854. As the eldest sibling, their death made her responsible for her family and left little time for a life of her own. But now her brothers and sisters are adults; even the youngest is nearly ready to face the world on his own. What will she do when she is alone, other than care for an elderly aunt and volunteer at the Sisters of Charity orphanage? Has the chance for a husband and children of her own passed her by?
Widower Anthony Marcus, formerly a captain in the Union Army, is a man scraping the bottom of his dignity and hanging on to his honor by the barest thread. Reduced to doing odd jobs to keep a roof over his dear daughter Ann’s head, he often leaves her with the Sisters of Charity while he is out seeking steady work with a decent salary that will allow him to move from their single-room living quarters.
After an initial meeting that finds Muireall and Anthony at odds, a tentative friendship forms as they bond over their mutual affection for Ann. As friendship leads to passion, can a wealthy spinster and a poor soldier overcome their differences in station to forge a future together? Just as Muireall finds the courage to reach for her own happiness, Anthony’s past rises up between them and an old enemy reemerges to bring the Thompson family down once and for all. Will the divide between them be insurmountable, or can they put aside pride and doubt for a love worth fighting for?
You can buy The Captain's Woman via this Universal Link
And here's an excerpt to whet your appetite:
“I missed you too, Papa, and I have so much to tell you.” She said pushed herself down to stand on the snowy stone walkway in front of the orphanage and turned to Muireall. “Thank you so much for allowing me to stay with you. It was great fun.”
Muireall knelt down, and Ann rushed forward to be embraced. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed myself quite so much, dear.”
It was a solitary moment for Muireall, even holding Ann in her arms and kissing the child’s hair. There was something defining about the emptiness she felt when her arms closed around the child. She’d always been certain that raising her siblings, guarding her family and their connection to Scotland and its fortunes were all she ever needed or wanted. But as the child’s fingers touched her neck above her cloak, she knew with clarity that she’d been fooling herself for years. She’d suspected as much as her siblings began to marry and begin families of their own, families of which she was on the periphery rather than at the center. And she knew there was something missing in her life. Something tangible and genuine that went to the heart of her. She closed her eyes for a brief moment to regain her composure.
Ann pulled out of her arms when the door to the orphanage opened and young Sister Ann Marie called to her to come in out of the cold. Muireall stood and faced Mr. Marcus.
“I hope she was not too much trouble,” he said.
“She could never be trouble, sir. Never,” she said with more emphasis than was necessary.
He stood military straight, feet spread although listing to his side with the cane, his free arm folded behind his back. “I am very grateful for her to have someone fuss over her, especially . . . a woman. She misses that, I believe.”
“You’re a widower?”
“I am. My wife left us and died in a carriage accident not long after. My sister came around and always made much of Ann when we lived in New York, but she remarried and moved south with her new family.”
“So it is just you and Ann.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about your wife’s death, Mr. Marcus.”
“Don’t be,” he said gruffly. “She’s not deserving of it.”
“I see.”
“I doubt that you can, Miss Thompson,” he said with an unfriendly smile. “I highly doubt it.”
Muireall stared at him for several uncomfortable moments before turning to the carriage. “Mrs. McClintok sent something for your and Ann’s lunch. Do not give me that look, sir. She thought that since you were busy looking for work, you mayn’t have time to prepare a noon meal.”
“Or perhaps there’s nothing in my pantry.”
“Perhaps, but that is not my or Mrs. McClintok’s knowledge or business.”
He picked up a bag from the ground beside him, handed it to her, and took the canvas bag. “Mrs. McClintok sent coffee with cream in a jar that I warmed on the stove and had with my bread pudding. It was a treat. I’m sure Ann had some last night. I’m returning the jar.”
“She did have some—two portions, in fact,” she said with a trace of a smile. “She enjoyed it very much.”
He chuckled then. “I’m sure she did.”
Muireall turned to Mr. Bauer. “Would you please plan on picking me up around two, Mr. Bauer?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, then called out to the horses and began down the street.
“I’ll be taking Ann to our rooms now,” Mr. Marcus said, “but she’ll have to return after lunch. Mr. Endernoff, who I interviewed with yesterday, has sent a note round asking me to come to his office at one today.”
“Oh, that could be good news, couldn’t it? Would he call you to come see him again if he weren’t offering you the job?”
“The same thought occurred to me, but I try and not let myself hope too much. It’s been a long spell since I’ve had steady employment, and I’ve talked to many men about jobs they were offering, but nothing has come of it.”
“You don’t want to be disappointed.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. There is only so much disappointment one can take until one becomes bitter. Ann does not need her father, her only parent, to be bitter.”
“She does not. She is very, very lucky to have you, though.”
Now, let's meet the author:
Holly Bush writes historical romance set in the U.S.in the late 1800’s, in Victorian England, and an occasional Women’s Fiction title. Her books are described as emotional, with heartfelt, sexy romance. She makes her home with her husband in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Connect with Holly at www.hollybushbooks.com and on Twitter @hollybushbooks and on Facebook at Holly Bush.
You can find Holly on these links:
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Thanks so much for hosting Holly Bush today. Much appreciated. xx
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