I have, of course, read M.C. Beaton before. I've picked up a few of her Agatha Raisin and Hamish Macbeth books and enjoyed them. They're fun little cozy mysteries. I haven't finished either series, though. In fact, I don't think I've picked either up in a couple of years. Good books, but nothing I have felt compelled to marathon read. Even the shows based on the series I'll watch an episode or two of now and then, but again ... not marathon.
I found out a couple of years ago that Beaton has written several genres under several names -- including a ton of historicals under her "actual" name, Marion Chesney. It took me until now to pick up the first from her Regency series, The School for Manners. I'm sure at some point I'll continue with Agatha and Hamish, but these I could definitely see myself marthoning. Reading. Watching. Whatever.
First published in 1988, a couple of months before I turned 13, I probably would have originally claimed Felicity to be one of the greatest characters ever (had I any interest in the time in anything that could be classified in any way as a romance). Now? I'm all about the Tribble twins. Maybe it's the fact that I'm closer in age to them than the so-called heroine. Maybe we're just kindred spirits and would have been thirty-plus years ago as well. I'm not sure which one I'm drawn to more, yet. Maybe by the time the series is finished I'll have it figured out. Right now I'm leaning Team Amy .... except for when I'm feeling more Effy-ish ....
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Author Marion Chesney/M.C. Beaton
Publication originally published 1 October 1988, St Martin's Press
Amazon Description
Cover Art
First Lines
It is a sad fact that one's insides do not keep pace with one's outsides. Pains in the lower back, wrinkles round the eyes, soft puffiness under the chin, elasticity gone from the step; all the outward manifestations of growing old make up a pitifully hardening shell over the ever-youthful and hopeful soul.
Faves on 4s
4%: Effy was soft and timid on the outside and had a hard core of steel within, the hallmark of a truly feminine woman. Amy was crude and harsh and ungainly and swore on occasion quite dreadfully, but could be sentimental and impractical to a fault.
14%: Felicity swung a leg over the polished banister and slid down the staircase, vaulted over the polished carved heraldic beast on the bottom post and landed lightly in the hall, to cries of shock from the ladies and roars of noisy approval from the hunting crowd.
44%: Her poor head, stuffed by Felicity with romantic tales, led her to believe that Felicity had taken her own life. She rushed up to the drawing room and flung herself weeping on the middle of the carpet and begged for mercy.
64%: 'What are they saying?' he asked.
'Only that this house is being called Ravenswood's harem and they are saying that you are Turkish in your tastes and prefer older women.'
The marquess laughed, as much with relief as anything else. 'If that is all they have to say, let 'em,' he said.
84%: Her heart had lifted when he said he wanted to talk privately to her. Disappointment that the only reason he wanted to be alone with her was to be reassured that his monstrous behaviour had not reached the delicate ears of his fiancee, who must be cherished and protected unlike such a hurly-burly girl as herself, enraged her.