Ambrose And Estelle – Charlotte Applewhite

“So if you all wish to, I will happily look after any valuables you may be carrying or wearing.” “That doesn’t surprise me, as you won’t even drink the water,” Daisy said. “You don’t believe in its healing properties?” “I think that drinking the water may help to heal those who are sick, but I am not sick, and the taste is disgusting.

It is not because of the water itself that I won’t bathe, though. I am very fond of a warm bath, particularly as when on campaign it is an untold luxury to get one. But I am not fond of bathing in the same water as a horde of people with open sores and contagious diseases. I think it more likely to make you sick than to cure you.”

“Ugh,” Rose said. “I had not thought of it in that way, but you are right. I was thinking to bathe, but I have changed my mind. I wish to do nothing that might put my baby at risk.” She instinctively put her hand over her stomach, which was now rounding nicely. By the time they arrived at the Pump Room the whole company had decided not to bathe, with the result that after drinking the water they had the rest of the afternoon free.

“I wondered if you might be interested in a drive to Lansdown?” Stephen asked Estelle while the others were occupied supporting Rose, who was being given a plethora of maternal advice by Lady Fletcher. “Lansdown?” “Yes. It is not far, only four miles away. My sister told me that it’s very beautiful, and there are lovely views.” Estelle said that sounded like an excellent way to spend a lovely autumnal afternoon, and when on hearing this the others all expressed a hastily concocted mutual desire to go to Sydney Gardens, the lieutenant colonel and the duchess found themselves going alone.

They wore warm clothes and stout shoes, as they both agreed that if possible they would like to walk up the hill, which was said to have the best views. “My sister has been to the summit, and if she has done it, I am sure you will easily be able to,” Stephen said. “I thought your sister was much younger than you,” Estelle commented.

“I am forty, and she is ten years younger than I am,” he confirmed.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact [email protected]. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence technologies or systems.

In accordance with Article 4(3) of the DSM Directive 2019/790, Blue Thistle Publishing Ltd expressly reserves this work from the text and data mining exception. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. Book Cover by Qamber Designs 1kitap1.com/en Books by Charlotte Applewhite The Summersley Series Book One: Rose Book Three: Violet (available December 2025) 1kitap1.com/en Contents 1.

CHAPTER ONE 2. CHAPTER TWO 3. CHAPTER THREE 4. CHAPTER FOUR 5. CHAPTER FIVE 6. CHAPTER SIX 7. CHAPTER SEVEN 8. CHAPTER EIGHT 9. CHAPTER NINE 10. CHAPTER TEN 11. CHAPTER ELEVEN 12. CHAPTER TWELVE 13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN 14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN 15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN 16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN 17. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 19. CHAPTER NINETEEN 20.

CHAPTER TWENTY 21. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Afterword 1kitap1.com/en A Chapter One Edgemere Hall, September 1803 mbrose woke suddenly, startled from his dream by a noise which he identified a few moments later as an owl hooting right outside his window, left open due to the warm weather. He lay for a few minutes staring at the bedhangings, his heart pounding from the combination of his shocked awakening and the dream he’d been in the middle of at the time the owl hooted.

The dream still felt more real than the room he was lying in, familiar though it was. He was young again, his hair a rich dark brown rather than threaded with grey as it now was, his limbs strong and lithe as he whirled the young woman around the dance floor. He felt the passion of youth, his whole life stretching ahead of him, full of promise. He smiled at his partner and she returned his smile, her eyes warm with the anticipation of a night of lovemaking.

The unaccustomed wild joy thrilled through him as he surrendered to his emotions, allowing them full rein as he held this beautiful slim woman, and suddenly they were in a bedroom he had never seen in life, and he was lying beside the woman he had chosen of his own free will, their youthful limbs entangled. In that glorious moment he knew he was in love, that anything was possible, and he laughed, tasting the pure exhilaration of freedom for the first time in his life.

But now the dream was fading and he was awake, alone in bed, in a house full of people who hated him.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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