Chapter Five
Because of the constant interruptions on her time, it wasn’t until a few days later that Letitia finally had the time to sit down in her small parlour and pull the manuscript from the drawer.
The birth of young Hugh had sparked Ridlington Chase into a frenzy of delighted activity, and with Rosaline still spending the majority of her day with the baby, Letitia found herself summoned to fill the gap.
It wasn’t that she was running the Chase—she had neither the intention nor the desire to do so. But she could, and did, lend a hand with menus, staff questions or problems…whatever routine chores needed approval from the lady of the house—well, Letitia happily acted as Rosaline’s proxy.
But an hour or two for herself was appreciated and she sat with a renewed sense of energy to go over Mr. Lesley’s suggestions.
Harriet was busy setting her own smaller quarters to rights with the small pieces of furniture Letitia had scrounged from the assortment of older, unused rooms. She declared herself more than content with the space and the chance to make it her own had been welcomed.
So in spite of the occasional bump as her not-quite-maid moved her furniture around to suit her preferences, Letitia was undisturbed.
Tentatively, she opened her book, turning the pages over and looking for the marks left by Mr. Lesley. They were soon evident, but not on every page. She continued her review, trying to get a sense of what he wanted and where.
Deciding to review the entire thing for her first pass through, she reached the final page, surprised at how few actual corrections there were. Many had been single word notations; ‘Here’ was written in red ink beside an arrow pointing—usually—at the end of a paragraph. Clearly, Mr. Lesley was asking more for additions than corrections.
Which was, mused Letitia, a little more acceptable.
She reached the end to find a couple of extra pages. She leaned back in her chair, picked them up, and began to read.
“Dear Lady Corinth,
Forgive my temerity, but having perused your manuscript with interest, I find myself both fascinated and entertained by the narrative. Your daring document is ground-breaking in its content and not a little scandalous, both of which will most likely guarantee a successful debut.
I use the term most likely with deliberation; and I hope you will permit me the opportunity to explain my thinking.
If you would reference my insertion points…they all occur during moments of great intimacy, which you describe with pleasurable accuracy. However…in this reader’s humble opinion, these episodes are singularly lacking in one crucially important feature. That of personal engagement.
As an example, (Ch.4). Lady Clarinda has selected the Earl of Wattlesby to be her escort for an evening of pleasure. Their engagement is most passionate and satisfactory. However, it is described as if by an onlooker, not a participant.
If you find yourself able to add that certain touch, words that encourage the reader to become a part of the scene, not just a voyeur, then I anticipate that this book will easily go into a third, if not fourth edition within the year.”
Letitia put the page down, and settled into deep thought. What did he mean? What exactly did he want? Since nothing immediately leapt into her mind, she picked up the second page. Aha. Apparently he had clarified his requests with an example. Good man.
“Lady Clarinda approached the Earl with confidence, ‘her heart beating rapidly and her body ripening at the thought of his touch.’
The Earl thrust deep into the dark and welcoming (body) ‘furnace that teased his control with slick hunger. She was hotter than fire, her skin ablaze where he caressed it’.”
She frowned, reading the examples over twice. There were several more in the same vein.
A knock on the door made her jump, but she welcomed the interruption and beckoned Harriet into the room when she peeked inside to see if Letitia needed anything.
“Yes, I need you to help me make sense of this.” She gestured at the papers on her desk.
“Oh,” said Harriet with interest. “Is this about the publisher’s suggestions?”
“It is indeed. I would be grateful if you’d read his comments here, and examples, and give me your opinion.”
“Of course. I’d be happy to.”
She settled herself with the pages, and read, taking her time and—Letitia was pleased to see—making sure she understood, referring back to the first page once or twice.
Finally, she looked up. “Well.”
“Yes. Well.”
“It seems self-evident, Letitia.” Harriet rose, put the papers back on Letitia’s desk and then resumed her seat.
