Darkside Down Under 2nd Anniversary Blog Hop

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Hi everyone,

                       It’s The Dark Side Downunder 2^nd Anniversary! Thanks so much for dropping by and helping us celebrate. From sexy vampires to goblin kings, through time travel, space opera, fantasy, Steampunk and everything else that goes bump in the night... the Darksiders have entangling paranormal tales to share. So raise your glass and embrace your dark side.

So... Daleks aside, what scared you as a child? For me (other than Daleks and clowns), it was some of the really dark and twisted fairytales. Some of them were blood soaked, evil and just plain awful. The murderous groom in Blue Beard was terrifying, the Goose Girl with the death of Falada made me cry, and the injustice of The Six Swans still lingers. In The Six Swans (sometimes known as the 3 Swans or the 7 Swans) the princess must endure six years of silence to break the spell that has turned her beloved brothers into swans. In that time, she is abused, loses her husband’s love, watches as her children are stolen from her and is accused of witchcraft and yet she is unable to speak and defend herself.

Another example of dark and scary images is in the old version of Cinderella. Here the step-mother encourages the step sisters to cut off their heels or toes to fit into the slipper, only to have their plan undone by the two pigeons calling to the prince “Cuckoo, Cuckoo, there’s blood on the shoe... she is not the true bride for you.” Of course, the prince heeds the bird’s warning and leaves with his true bride, Cinderella.

So...come on fess up, was there a story that scared you silly as a kid?

 

I’m giving away a pdf copy of Until The Stars Burn Cold. To be in the running please leave your name and email address. Added to that there is a grand prize of a $30.00 Amazon voucher up for grabs!

The comment button is at the very end of the post - thanks.

1. To be eligible to win a prize on the blogs, the reader must do as what’s instructed on each blog by 11.59pm 4th November Australian Eastern Daylight Savings Time.
2. To be eligible to win the Amazon voucher, the participants must comment on each participating blog. Only one comment needed. Multiple comments will be ignored for the purposes of the contest.
3. Have fun!

 

Long ago in ancient Persia, there lived a pair of star crossed lovers. In a desperate bid, the lovers sought to flee the town of Adwan. But they were caught and torn apart. For his insolence, Jinn is cursed into a ring. Ages pass and empires crumble... and Jinn is still forever bound in a circle of frozen silver. Bound, that is until present day antiques dealer, Mia Templeton accidentally releases him. Mia is beautiful and Jinn, finds her somehow familiar. Is love eternal and evil everlasting? Can the power that destroyed his life in Adwan, reach through the centuries and threaten his future?

 

He could almost taste the longing and desperation on her lips. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, she trembled. Her tears fell as the deepened their kiss and Jinn savoured the salt on his tongue. Reluctantly she broke away but Jinn caught hold of her hand as she took two steps down the staircase towards her uncle.

“I cannot let you go.”

“You must,” she said as she pulled her hand from his.

“He cannot Shuri,” Kansbar said as he moved towards the flight of steps. “He cannot let you go – his love is too great. Which is admirable but unfortunate. He will move the heavens to have you and that will not do. Now, come to me and we will have done with it.”

“Uncle you promised that you would not harm him!” She called out as she started to run towards him.

“I will not kill him,” Kansbar smiled at Shuri. “But I cannot simply let him go. Watch, you may enjoy it!”

“No Uncle!”

But Kansbar had already begun to mutter strange sounding words, his hands moved elegantly drawing invisible shapes before him and the glass sphere appeared to illuminate with an inner pale light.

“Kansbar sisitu emuq Adar. Kansbar sisitu emuq Jetae Shamsheara. I-n-gub-en, digir gal-gal-gu-ne-ra. I-n-dim-es-dilmun!”

The Shamsheara stone levitated in front of Kansbar and shone as bright as the sun.

“Kansbar sisitu emuq Jetae Shamsheara! I, Kansbar summon the power of the Jetae Shamsheara!”

A golden light encased Kansbar before the stone released an energy bolt of pure white light. It shot through the air as fast as lightning and hit Jinn. He cried out in pain and staggered as the light pierced his body.

Shuri ran down the remainder of the stairs and threw herself at Kansbar’s feet. She grabbed at the edge of his cloak “Please Uncle, I beg you do not do this. I will do everything you say. I will marry Farrokh. Show mercy, show mercy!” Shuri looked up and stared at Jinn, to her horror his golden skin had taken on a silver sheen.

“Shuri!” Jinn called out as he was compelled to bend forward and reach for his toes.

His eyes never left hers as she ran the few paces towards him; but she hesitated as she watched as Jinn’s entire body became pliable silver. His body had been turned to molten metal yet he was still conscious … still Jinn… still calling her name.

“Jinn!” she screamed and her eyes rounded in horror as Jinn’s body formed a never ending circle. He rocked for an agonizing moment at the top of the steps, the sunlight causing his silver body to gleam. Pitching forward Jinn rolled down the hard stone steps, decreasing in size with each revolution until he clattered and spun with a metallic clink at Kansbar feet. With a satisfied smile Kansbar bent down and scooped Jinn up with one hand. Jinn had been transformed into a heavy silver ring – a perfect circle just big enough to fit Kansbar smallest finger. Kansbar grinned as he inspected Jinn in miniature; his hands touched his feet and his head turned to one side, lips still parted with Shuri’s name. With great pleasure Kansbar held it up for all to see.

“Here my dear, allow me to be the first to present you with a wedding present.” He mocked and then laughed heartily as he watched his niece drop into a dead faint.

Links –

www.nicolehurley-moore.com

http://www.facebook.com/#!/nicole.hurleymoore

http://nicolehurley-moore.blogspot.com.au/

https://twitter.com/nhurleymoore

http://www.amazon.com/Until-Stars-Burn-Cold-ebook/dp/B009L83CR0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1350715734&sr=1-1

 

Halloween Special - 2nd Blogiversary Participants  

1. Eleni Konstantine  2. Mel Teshco 3. Nicole Murphy 4. Imogene Nix  5. Christina Phillips aka Christina Ashcroft 6. Amanda Ashby 7. Jenny Schwartz 8. Shona Husk 9. Maree Anderson

10. Kylie Griffin 11. Lilliana Rose 12. Nicole Hurley-Moore 13. Eden Summers 14. Erica Hayes  15. Sandra Harris 16. Keziah Hill 17. S E Gilchrist 18. DSDU

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Howloween Blog Hop

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Happy Halloween everyone!

I was thinking about Samhain, and how the Celts believed it marked the onset of the dark half of the year. This was the time the veil between reality and the spirit realm was the thinnest and the dead walked.

Now, I’m a big scaredy cat when it comes to ghost stories. Vampires, mummies and zombies, no worries... but ghosts –  that’s another story. I run away from ghostly horror movies (much to the amusement of my children). I’m not much better when it comes to reading them. So, all that being said – I decided to go with a poem. Well, it’s a medieval ballad and is about a thousand years old. It’s sad, sombre, atmospheric and my favourite. I hope you like it.

The Unquiet Grave

‘The wind doth blow today, my love,

And a few small drops of rain;

I never had but one true-love;

In cold grave she was lain.'

 

 

'I’ll do as much for my true-love

As any young man may;

I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave

For a twelvemonth and a day.’

 

The twelvemonth and a day being up,

The dead began to speak;

‘Oh who sits weeping on my grave,

And will not let me sleep?’

 

‘’Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,

And will not let you sleep;

For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips;

And that is all I seek.’

 

‘You crave a kiss of my clay cold lips;

But my breath smells earthy strong;

If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,

Your time will not be long.'

 

‘‘Tis down in yonder garden green,

Love, where we used to walk,

The finest flower that ere was seen

In withered to a stalk.'

 

‘The stalk is withered dry, my love,

So will our hearts decay;

So make yourself content, my love;

Till God calls you away.’

                                                      Anonymous

 

 

See... soft, sad but not scary!

Thank you so much for dropping by. I’m giving away one pdf copy of Until the Stars Burn Cold. To be in the running please leave your name and email address.

Nicole  x

 

The comment button is located right at the bottom of the post – Thanks!

To return to the Howloween Blog Spot please click link below.

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 Forbidden love

Long ago in ancient Persia, there lived a pair of star crossed lovers. In a desperate bid, the lovers sought to flee the town of Adwan. But they were caught and torn apart. For his insolence, Jinn is cursed into a ring. Ages pass and empires crumble... and Jinn is still forever bound in a circle of frozen silver. Bound, that is until present day antiques dealer, Mia Templeton accidentally releases him. Mia is beautiful and Jinn, finds her somehow familiar. Is love eternal and evil everlasting? Can the power that destroyed his life in Adwan, reach through the centuries and threaten his future?

 

A Snippet from Until The Stars Burn Cold

Mia stirred as a loud rumble of thunder echoed over her house. She cracked open one eye ever so slightly. A flash of lightning illuminated her bedroom wall. She relaxed back into her soft mattress and closed her eyes. She was warm, comfortable and content, and as sleep threatened to reclaim her once more she wondered if it would be possible to reconnect with the delicious and vivid dream she had been having. Parts of it were beginning to disappear and she tried to hold onto the details.

There had been a man, a beautiful man with wide shoulders and lovely brown eyes and he had been kissing her. Mia let herself begin to drift, she was floating, barely conscious of her surroundings as she snuggled deeper beneath her quilt. Yet there was a nagging in the back of her brain that something was amiss. The edgy feeling told her to wake up but her body rebelled and her breath began to deepen. She reasoned that it was nothing to be concerned about; the dream coupled with the oncoming storm had disturbed her and nothing more. That was until she felt a large hand hook around her waist and pull her closer to a warm mass that engulfed her back. Biting back a scream she pushed the hand away and flung herself off the bed. She turned, faced the bed and fear, shock and amazement blended together in a tight ball in her stomach as she saw that there was a man in her bed.

A weak shaft of light pierced the darkness and she could see he was lying on his side stretched out on top of the quilt, with his arm flung across the bed. He was reaching for where Mia had been dreaming only a moment or two ago. It was then that she realized with a little relief that he was fully clothed. He wore long dark green trousers tucked into soft leather boots that ran halfway up his calf and a deep cream shirt under a leather jerkin. 

Mia stumbled across the corner of the room, grabbing the tall, metal floor lamp. She yanked at the cord and pulled the plug out of the socket. The cream silk shade fell off and rolled towards the door. Flicking on the bedroom light gave her a little comfort; at least now she could see exactly what she was up against. She edged towards the bed and looked down at her intruder.

She saw the way the man’s chest softly rose and fell. His eyes were closed and his features were relaxed. Feeling a little braver, Mia took one tentative step back towards the bed and studied the stranger’s face. He was handsome, with high cheekbones and a square jaw. His golden brown complexion was offset by his long dark hair.

Mia held the lamp in front of her like a staff. Taking a deep breath, she wished her heart would stop racing. She pushed the lamp forward and jabbed at the stranger’s shoulder.

 “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my bed?”

 

Links –

www.nicolehurley-moore.com

http://www.amazon.com/Until-Stars-Burn-Cold-ebook/dp/B009L83CR0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1350715734&sr=1-1

 

To return to the Howloween Blog Spot please click link below.

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Images

Bigstock

Cover – Pink Petal Books/ Tibbs Design.

 

The Alpha Male Blog Hop

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So what is it that draws us to the alpha male? Did we all read too many fairytales as children or watch Indiana Jones once too often in our impressionable youth? Or is it left over ancient response which is embedded in our psyche? The response that told us long ago to find and stand next to the biggest, strongest warrior to elevate our survival chances?

We all know that the guy next door who works in IT with the cute nerdy glasses is clever, sweet and compassionate. He is the logical... even the intelligent choice for a mate. So why do our eyes follow the badass on the motor bike or the trades man with the developed chest and arms?

 

What makes these guys... these alpha males so enticing? And why has womankind found them so compelling from the beginning of time? Let us put physical attributes aside, an alpha male must have more to his repertoire than merely strength and good looks. Perhaps it’s his ability to take charge of the situations and be seen as a ‘man of action’.  He is seen as a leader, a man that will figure out the solution to whatever problem arises. He takes risks, he is an adventurer and has a solid code of ethics. Or maybe we are attracted to him because he is willing to fight for what he believes in. 

In my books my heroes are all alpha males, but they are driven by very different things. In The Trinket Seller’s Daughter, Lord Allard de Gerril is motivated with revenge and bringing a murderous band of outlaws to justice.

Lord William Reynard from Capturing Bliss is hounded by his desire to prove his worth. As a reward for an act of bravery, the once landless knight finds himself the lord of Foxwoods Hall and married to an heiress. Yet he is compelled to show the world and himself that he is worthy of the honour.

 

In Until the Stars Burn Cold, Jinn Ladarius does everything for love. He is willing to sacrifice himself for the woman he loves, time and time again.

 

I am giving away a pdf copy of Until The Stars Burn Cold. So please leave a comment and your email address to be in the running.

Added to that, Carrie Ann has organized three overall prizes for the Alpha Male Hop. To enter you have to leave a comment & your email address on each leg of the hop. The more places you comment, the more chances you have.

1st Grand Prize: A Kindle Fire or Nook Tablet

2nd Grand Prize: A $130 Amazon or B&N Gift Card

3rd Grand Prize: The following Swag Pack!

 

Now, the prize booty is open to international hoppers but if you are a non US resident and win, the first prize will come in the form of an Amazon or B&N Gift Card. Also, unfortunately the 3^rd prize of swag is only eligible to those within the US. The reason – sorry, the postage is just way too expensive.

Thanks so much for hopping by and joining in the fun. I hope you discover new stories, new authors and why we all love an Alpha Male!

 

Here is a snippet from Until The Stars Burn Cold.

 An antiques dealer gets far more than she bargained for, when she discovers an ancient ring. This is Jinn & Mia’s first meeting – I hope you like it.

Best Wishes,

Nicole  x

Mia stirred as a loud rumble of thunder echoed over her house. She cracked open one eye ever so slightly. A flash of lightning illuminated her bedroom wall. She relaxed back into her soft mattress and closed her eyes. She was warm, comfortable and content, and as sleep threatened to reclaim her once more she wondered if it would be possible to reconnect with the delicious and vivid dream she had been having. Parts of it were beginning to disappear and she tried to hold onto the details.

There had been a man, a beautiful man with wide shoulders and lovely brown eyes and he had been kissing her. Mia let herself begin to drift, she was floating, barely conscious of her surroundings as she snuggled deeper beneath her quilt. Yet there was a nagging in the back of her brain that something was amiss. The edgy feeling told her to wake up but her body rebelled and her breath began to deepen. She reasoned that it was nothing to be concerned about; the dream coupled with the oncoming storm had disturbed her and nothing more. That was until she felt a large hand hook around her waist and pull her closer to a warm mass that engulfed her back. Biting back a scream she pushed the hand away and flung herself off the bed. She turned, faced the bed and fear, shock and amazement blended together in a tight ball in her stomach as she saw that there was a man in her bed.

A weak shaft of light pierced the darkness and she could see he was lying on his side stretched out on top of the quilt, with his arm flung across the bed. He was reaching for where Mia had been dreaming only a moment or two ago. It was then that she realized with a little relief that he was fully clothed. He wore long dark green trousers tucked into soft leather boots that ran halfway up his calf and a deep cream shirt under a leather jerkin. 

Mia stumbled across the corner of the room, grabbing the tall, metal floor lamp. She yanked at the cord and pulled the plug out of the socket. The cream silk shade fell off and rolled towards the door. Flicking on the bedroom light gave her a little comfort; at least now she could see exactly what she was up against. She edged towards the bed and looked down at her intruder.

She saw the way the man’s chest softly rose and fell. His eyes were closed and his features were relaxed. Feeling a little braver, Mia took one tentative step back towards the bed and studied the stranger’s face. He was handsome, with high cheekbones and a square jaw. His golden brown complexion was offset by his long dark hair.

Mia held the lamp in front of her like a staff. Taking a deep breath, she wished her heart would stop racing. She pushed the lamp forward and jabbed at the stranger’s shoulder.

 “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my bed?”

 

Available from Amazon, Pink Petal Books, Barnes & Noble, BookStrand, All Romance, Smashwords & Coffee Time Romance & More.

http://www.amazon.com/Until-Stars-Burn-Cold-ebook/dp/B009L83CR0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1350530894&sr=1-1

Links –

www.nicolehurley-moore.com

http://www.facebook.com/nicole.hurleymoore#!/nicole.hurleymoore

http://nicolehurley-moore.blogspot.com.au/

Book Trailer -    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0U9UulnlZnE&feature=plcp

 

TO RETURN TO CARRIE ANN’S BLOGSPOT – please click link below.

http://carrieannbloghops.blogspot.com.au/p/the-alpha-male.html

 

 The comment button for this blog is located at the very bottom of the post. Thanks!

Images

BIGSTOCK

The Trinket Seller’s Daughter – Pink Petal Books/Winterheart Design

Capturing Bliss & Until the Stars Burn Cold – Pink Petal Books/ Tibbs Design

Disclaimer Comment by 11:59:59 PM Eastern time on 22^nd October, 2012 for your chance to win. Winners will be selected randomly using a Random.org. Winners will be contacted by the blog owner. Only one entry per ISP address. The contest is open to international readers. No purchase necessary to enter. Odds of winning depend on number of entries received. Void where prohibited.

Coffee Time Romance & More Blog

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Hi everyone,
                     I'm blogging over at Coffee Thoughts - Coffee Time Romance and More. If you have a chance, I would love it if you could pop over and say hello.

http://coffeetimeromance.com/CoffeeThoughts/until-the-stars-burn-cold/









If not, then maybe you'll be able to catch me as I hop by!

19th - 22nd October - The Alpha Male Hop

http://carrieannbloghops.blogspot.com.au/2012/10/last-chance-to-sign-up-for-alpha-male.html

26th - 29th October - Howloween Blog Hop

http://thebloghopspot.com/latest-news/

31st October - 4th November - Darksiders Downunder 2nd Anniversary Halloween Hop.

http://darksidedownunder.blogspot.com.au/

Spotlight - Alison Stuart

Hi everyone,
                    Today, please welcome the uber cool Alison Stuart. Alison writes historical romances and she is here today to chat about her new book, Gather The Bones. It is published by Lyrical Press and is available now.
Alison, thanks so much for visiting today. Would you like to tell us a little bit about yourself?

Hi Nicole, Thanks for hosting me today!

I was born and brought up in Kenya in the dying days of the British Empire. We moved to Australia when I was ten. When I was in my final year at University, where I was studying History and Law,  I did the unthinkable (at least to those who knew me), I joined the Army Reserve. During a navigation exercise in officer training, a (very!) handsome young man offered to share his pencil with me, our eyes locked...and the rest is history. A long and interesting career in a peace time army ensued  and  I rose to the rank of Major in the legal services. A move to Singapore in 2000 brought both our military careers to an end. However the shared interest in the military and military history in particular continued and in Singapore we retraced the events leading to the fall of Singapore in 1942 and have gone on to explore battlefields in America and England. In 2005 we finally made it to Belgium and Northern France, a trip that coincided with Anzac day on the Somme. Walking the still visible trenches and craters of the Western Front had an enormous impact on us both and sowed the seeds of GATHER THE BONES.

Where abouts are you from and why do you love living there?

I am a Melbourne girl through and through. As a lonely and unhappy child from darkest Africa, Melbourne just picked me up in its arms and held me close.

Do you incorporate other elements into your historical romances?

I write historical romance but GATHER THE BONES is a departure from my passion (the Stuart era). It is a venture into a more modern time with a bit of a paranormal thrown in for good measure. Great fun to write.

What was the first thing you had published?

           At school, my best friend and I dreamed of being writers (something she achieved before me!). We used to sit in the willow tree at lunch with our latest magnum opii…Hers was futuristic sci fi and mine, yes, historical romance set in the English Civil War. My first real publication came with the short story anthologies published in Singapore.

 

How do you overcome writer's block?

When my imaginary friends won’t talk to me? Sometimes doing another, but different, creative task such as needlework releases the block. I also find jigsaws very inspirational and then there’s Spider Solitaire (or at least that’s what I tell my husband!)

What was the most romantic moment you ever had?

My husband is not the most romantic man in the world but there has been a couple of moments when he has surprised me…by producing a bottle of champagne on the top of Mt. Stanley in Hong Kong at sunset or likewise, on the banks of the Tiber in Rome.

*sigh* But that was romantic!

 

What inspires you?

Inspiration can come from the strangest sources. Often it is a building. Holdston Hall in GATHER THE BONES is loosely based on Baddesley Clinton in Warwickshire just as Harvington Hall was the inspiration for BY THE SWORD. Something about old buildings just makes me want to create the stories around them.

 

Thanks Alison for coming to play.

Nicole  x

 

The horrors of the Great War are not the only ghosts that haunt Helen Morrow and her late husband's somewhat reclusive cousin, Paul. Unquiet spirits from another time and another conflict touch them. 

A coded diary gives them clues to the mysterious disappearance of Paul's great-grandmother in 1812, and the desperate voice of a young woman reaches  out to them from the pages. Together Helen and Paul must search for answers, not only for the old mystery, but also the circumstances surrounding the death of Helen's husband at Passchandaele in 1917.

As the mysteries entwine, their relationship is bound by the search for truth, in the present and the past.

 

Extract

Helen Morrow took a deep breath, her hand tightening on her daughter’s. She felt a corresponding squeeze, looked down into Alice’s upturned face, and smiled. Why were children so much braver than adults.

She raised the knocker on the old oak door and let it fall. The sound reverberated around the quiet courtyard and she took a step back as the door opened to reveal a small, round woman wearing a spotless white apron over a flowered dress.

Before Helen could speak, the woman’s face lit up with a smile.

“Mrs. Charles,” she exclaimed. “Welcome to Holdston. I’m Sarah Pollard and you must be Miss Alice.” She turned a beaming smile on the child before standing aside to usher them both inside the cool, dark hallway and through to a grand room, smelling of beeswax and dominated by a long table and a large fireplace emblazoned with carving. “We expected you on the later train. Sam was all set to take the car to the station to meet you.”

“We caught the bus from the station and walked. Sorry if that caused any inconvenience,” Helen said

“Oh none at all. You’re here and that’s what matters. Come in, come in. Leave your suitcase. I’ll take it up to your room. Lady Morrow’s in the parlour. I’ll show you through.”

Helen removed the pins from her hat and set it down on top of the case. She took off Alice’s hat and fussed over the unmanageable fair hair that refused to stay confined in a neat plait.

“Are you ready to meet Grandmama?” she asked her daughter, with what she hoped was a confident smile. She didn’t need Alice to see the nerves that turned her stomach into a churning mass of butterflies.

They followed Sarah Pollard’s ample girth across the wide, stone-flagged floor. Helen looked up at the portraits of long dead Morrows who glared down at her from the wainscoted walls. If Charlie had lived, she would have been the next Lady Morrow and her portrait would have joined theirs, a colonial interloper in their ordered society.

Sarah opened a door and announced her. A slender woman, in her late middle age, her graying hair piled on her head in a manner fashionable before the war, rose from a delicate writing table by the window.

“Helen. You’re earlier than I had expected,” Lady Evelyn Morrow said. “I would have sent the car for you but you are most welcome to Holdston at long last. And you.” She turned to the child. “Let me look at you, Alice.”

Alice looked up at her mother, her eyes large and apprehensive. Helen gave her a reassuring smile and with a gentle hand in the girl’s back, urged her forward for her grandmother’s inspection.

“You’re not much like your father,” Lady Morrow concluded.

Helen could have listed all the ways in which Alice was, in fact, very much like her father, the father she had never known, from the hazel eyes to the way her upper lip curled when she smiled, and her utter lack of concern for her own safety. She must never stop forgetting.

Sarah Pollard bustled in with a tea tray and Lady Morrow indicated two chairs. Alice perched awkwardly on the high backed chair, her feet not quite touching the floor. Her eyes widened at the sight of the cake and biscuits piled high on the tea tray.

“I trust you had a good voyage?” Lady Morrow enquired as she poured the tea into delicate cups.

“Yes.” Helen smiled. “It was a wonderful adventure. Wasn’t it, Alice? We thought about Cousin Paul as we sailed through the Suez Canal. He must have some incredible stories to tell about the archaeological digs.”

The lines around Evelyn’s nose deepened. “If Paul has incredible stories, he does not share them with me, Helen.”

“But he writes to me and tells me all about them,” Alice said. “Every Christmas and every birthday. Last birthday he sent me a little glass bottle from...where was it, Mummy?”

“Palestine,” Helen replied. “He said it was Roman.”

“Does he indeed?” Evelyn’s eyebrows rose slightly. “I am glad to hear he recognizes his responsibility to you, Alice.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him. They told me he was with Charlie...” Helen began.

Evelyn stiffened, the teacup halfway to her lips. She set the cup down and folded her hands in her lap. “If you are hoping that Paul will shed any light on what happened that day, Helen, then you will be disappointed. Paul was badly injured in the same action and has, apparently, no memory of--” her thin lips quivered, “--the incident.”

Helen caught the sharp edge of an old bitterness in the older woman’s voice. “I see,” she said.

“You and I, Helen, must mourn over an empty grave,” Lady Morrow said.

She rose to her feet, walked over to the piano and picked up one of the heavy silver-framed photographs that adorned its highly polished surface.

“Did you ever see this photograph?” She handed it to Helen. “I had it taken before Charlie went to France in March 1915. Paul was home on leave and Charlie had just taken his commission.”

The photograph showed two young men in the uniform of infantry officers, one seated and the other standing, a photograph like thousands of others that were now the last link with the dead. Helen had a single portrait of Charlie, taken at the same photographic session, sporting an elegant, unfamiliar moustache and grinning from ear to ear, like an over-anxious school boy, keen to join the ‘stoush’, kill the ‘bloody Bosch’. She felt a keen sense of pain that reverberated as strongly as it had on the day he told her he would have to return to England.

“I can’t leave them to fight the Huns, Helen,” he said. “Damn it, I have a duty to England.” The drunken words came back to her and she could see Charlie in the kitchen of Terrala with his arm across her brother Henry’s shoulders, as they celebrated their mutual decision to join the war.

Henry had already enlisted in the Australian Light Horse and Charlie told her a few days later that he intended to return to England to join his cousin’s regiment.

“Do you think I would leave Paul to uphold the family honor?” he said.

And he’d gone.

Even as she had stood on the dock at Port Melbourne, the cold winter wind whipping at her ankles, she had known he would not return. She wondered if his decision to go would have been any different if they had known she was carrying his child. Probably not.

She turned from her husband’s smiling face to his cousin, Paul Morrow, the professional soldier, never destined to take the Morrow title until one day in a muddy field outside Ypres had turned his fortune.

The long months of war had already begun to leave their mark and, while he affected a smile, she saw no warmth in his eyes. In normal circumstances, with the strong jaw and good bone structure, it would be a handsome face but he looked tired and drained, and years older than his cousin, although he was the older by little over a year.

Yes, Paul Morrow had survived, but at what cost, she wondered?

“Is Paul here?” she asked. “When he last wrote to Alice, he said he would be in Mesopotamia for the digging season.”

 “The digging season is over for the year and I expect him home in the next few days.” Evelyn rose to her feet. “Now, let me show you your bedroom, Helen. I’ve given you the green room. As the nursery wing is shut up, I thought Alice could sleep in the dressing room. It’s so hard with just the two of us.” Her voice wavered and she looked past Helen to a point just beyond her shoulder before recovering her composure and continuing. “Much of the house is shut up, but Sarah can let you have the keys and you are free to go wherever you want, except my rooms and, of course Paul’s rooms. When he returns, he will also be working in the library.” Evelyn looked at Alice. “Then it will be strictly out of bounds. Sir Paul is not to be disturbed, Alice, do you understand?”

Alice nodded and looked up at her mother.

 

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