In need of a home (introduction)
There might be, on the stairs of the Mansion, a young woman, proud and determined, a shivering little girl clinging to her skirts.
She isn’t pretty per say, no, the young woman is not, but there is charm and grace in the way she holds herself, willfulness and a sense of education, even if her accent, when she speaks, though polished it may seem, is not perfect to that of higher Victorian society.
She is a red-head, curly and well groomed, her dress strict and elegant, as a governess’s would be, or perhaps that of an important man’s mistress, or the dress maybe of a lady of the lesser ladder of English good society. Her lips are chapped, her hands and cheeks are dry, and her figure is that of a slim, willowy thing, not curvy and not plush, though sensuality somehow stirs from her like strange ooze.
The little girl with her is a blond little thing, her face white like a lily. Not pretty by any means, and definitely not her child, she nonetheless clings to the woman like a child does to their mother. Despondent at best, solemn and quiet, though not dumb or stupid, she seems lost in reverie, and the gentle caress of her older companion is only what stirs her momentarily from her frowning dreams.
Both are cold, hungry, lost and tired. It is the wee hours of the morning, a little before sun-up, and they are hoping to see someone out the door soon, that they may ask for shelter.
T: We give you Miss Sugar and her pupil, Sophie Rackham, from Michel Faber’s The Crimson Petal and the White. Yes, yet another Victorian…..
She isn’t pretty per say, no, the young woman is not, but there is charm and grace in the way she holds herself, willfulness and a sense of education, even if her accent, when she speaks, though polished it may seem, is not perfect to that of higher Victorian society.
She is a red-head, curly and well groomed, her dress strict and elegant, as a governess’s would be, or perhaps that of an important man’s mistress, or the dress maybe of a lady of the lesser ladder of English good society. Her lips are chapped, her hands and cheeks are dry, and her figure is that of a slim, willowy thing, not curvy and not plush, though sensuality somehow stirs from her like strange ooze.
The little girl with her is a blond little thing, her face white like a lily. Not pretty by any means, and definitely not her child, she nonetheless clings to the woman like a child does to their mother. Despondent at best, solemn and quiet, though not dumb or stupid, she seems lost in reverie, and the gentle caress of her older companion is only what stirs her momentarily from her frowning dreams.
Both are cold, hungry, lost and tired. It is the wee hours of the morning, a little before sun-up, and they are hoping to see someone out the door soon, that they may ask for shelter.
T: We give you Miss Sugar and her pupil, Sophie Rackham, from Michel Faber’s The Crimson Petal and the White. Yes, yet another Victorian…..