A Letter in the Style of Miss Austen

On the Curious Pleasures of Quiet Scandal and Affection

It is not always in the grandest houses, nor amid the most illustrious company, that one finds the most captivating tales. No — more often, it is in the humbler village, behind drawn curtains and modest lace, that the truly interesting things occur.

Consider, if you will, a place where propriety is still the reigning fashion; where a lady’s curtsey is perfectly measured, and a gentleman’s smile is practised to the point of charm, if not sincerity. In such a setting, every silence may be significant, and the act of offering tea may carry more meaning than the tea itself.

It is in such a world that our heroine moves — a young woman not remarkable in station, but quietly formidable in observation. She does not declare herself. She does not argue. But she sees. And the consequences of what she sees are as rich in tension as any duel or declaration.

For the sharpest dramas are not the loudest. A misplaced letter, a glance too frequently exchanged, a name left just a little too long upon the tongue — these are the moments that burn longer than fireworks and settle deeper than scandal.

We offer, then, for your consideration, a tale where no word is wasted, and no silence meaningless. One might call it a love story — though of course, in Rosemere, such terms are never used aloud.

Miss Hartley of Rosemere is, if we may be plain, a debut: a story of decorum, yes, but laced through with tension, secrets, and all the perilous charm of polite society. And its gossip is, as ever, the quickest traveller in the parish.

Should you be inclined toward a novel in the manner of Miss Austen — we believe you will find yourself very well entertained.

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Read with discretion. Enjoy with delight.

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