To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. Good night. Manning’s letter. ‘I must. He would stare at her intensely when he was certain his parents were not looking in his direction. She intercepted the glance the spinsters exchanged, and immediately sensed that she had said too much. ‘Bête. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. "Yes. “I do,” he answered.
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