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Comet Wine [MultiFormat]
eBook by Lesley-Anne McLeod
eBook Category: Romance/Historical Fiction
eBook Description: A comet, they say, signals change. In a picturesque village in Cambridgeshire, India Pottersby did not think the Great Comet of 1811 would change anything in her quiet life as the vicar's sister. And she was content for it to be so. A difficult life had brought her at last to security with her younger brother in his vicarage, and she had no desire for alteration. Peter Trevayne had likewise come to harbour in the shire after fifteen profitable years in India. His purchase of Fencombe Hall created a stir in the neighbourhood. Speculation was rife, and the doyenne of local society made no secret of her mistrust of the stranger. Comet watching introduced India to Trevayne, and her preparation of 'comet wine' intrigued him. But nothing could come of their friendship unless the community--and India--could accept change.
eBook Publisher: Uncial Press, Published: 2007
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2007
18 Reader Ratings:
 
"A charming short story about a lonely man who finds acceptance and love in rural England, COMET WINE belongs in all romance lovers' Christmas stockings. You will like and admire Miss Pottersby and wish you could raise a glass of her comet wine to the starry-eyed couple."--Jane Bowers, Romance Reviews Today
He abandoned his light, bantering tone. "I am invited on sufferance so far, I think. It will take some time before I find true acceptance. But I must have passed some inspection, for I also have been extended an invitation to a dinner at the home of the Baron Kippingale in a fortnight. That will be my presentation to the wider society of the area, I suppose." To her shame, India regretted that he did not pursue his flirtation. She gathered her composure; he had made an unexceptionable observation. "A most suitable occasion to make your bow," she said. "The baron's invitations are coveted. My brother and I are honoured when we receive them." "The baron--and Lady Kippingale--are fortunate that you accept," he corrected gently, as they arrived at the vicarage door. India lifted her head to say goodnight, albeit silently, to the comet, as was her custom. It streamed across the heavens over her escort's left shoulder. His face was illumined by the light flickering from the parlour window. It was an appealing face, and she thought she detected humour, sad experience, and more than a little wisdom gleaming in his deep-set eyes. She reached to grip the door latch. He said suddenly, "The wine! Miss Pottersby, I must thank you for the elderberry wine. Indeed, it had a subtle elegance of flavour." She coloured again, and again hoped he could not see the betraying flush. The wine had been a foolish, impulsive thought when her brother had made his duty call upon the newcomer. Trevayne was a man of wealth and discrimination. She should not have offered such a poor product for his delectation. Nevertheless, he was being very good about it. So she said, "If you enjoyed the elderberry, you shall have a bottle of my comet wine; I think it will defy identification." "I shall not ask what is in it, but after this night, shall indeed think it touched with starshine."
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