27 February, 2020

#Spotlight :: Art & Grace by @CathEChapman


About the Book:
Check out the Book on Amazon
Bristol, England, in the early Nineteenth Century. The slave trade has been abolished but slavery itself has not yet been outlawed.

Bess, a young woman of mixed heritage, has an ambiguous position in the home of the once-eminent Liston family. Raised and educated alongside the family’s children, Richard and Artemisia, she has been increasingly confined to the role of a domestic servant since the death of Joshua Liston, the household’s head.

When Richard Liston instigates an introduction between Captain Adam Bryce, a Royal Naval officer of repute, and his sister, Artemisia, Adam shows greater interest in Bess. Pressed by Artemisia to stalk Adam, Bess’s problems begin. And when the ailing matriarch, Elizabeth Liston, presents Bess with an impossible choice, the weaving of a web of deceit commences that will ultimately push Bess and Artemisia’s friendship to the brink.

As the scene shifts to rural Somerset, things are far from serene: Sebastian Weston, occupant of the grand Milton Abbey, means to hold both Bess and Artemisia in his thrall. Rivalries ensue, the bond between Artemisia and Bess being strained by their allegiances to the men in their lives.

Charting the turbulent waters of family commitments and amorous liaisons, it’s hard to fathom who to trust and whom to love.

Read an Excerpt from Art & Grace


The steps didn’t need cleaning that morning but Richard insisted they be cleaned, stipulating that Hannah should do it; no doubt knowing I would intervene.  It was a task that would ordinarily have fallen to Esther but Richard had assigned the housemaid to dressing his sister – a role that, formerly, was mine and I regarded it as a pleasure rather than a duty.  So, despite my knowledge that it flew in the face of the express wish of Mrs Liston –and my awareness that Richard, too, knew his mother’s mind– I scrubbed the steps.

The morning was a fine one in late April.  Not a cloud could be seen in the skies above the City of Bristol as I emerged through the front door of the large, terraced house, carrying my pail.  We –and by that I mean the women of the household– knew all too well the need to maintain appearances now that we resided at an address that did not in itself confer the highest level of respectability (though Mrs Liston detested this necessity).  Setting down the pail and placing on the step beside it the old cushion that Hannah urged me to use to spare my knees, I knelt down and took up my brush.  There was satisfaction to be found in domestic work and I had no desire to hear the lecture that Richard was delivering to his younger sister in the parlour.

I’d been working about the house a lot lately, in large part to distract myself from fretting about a future that appeared far less certain than it had little more than a year ago.  Mrs Liston protested if she saw me.  In response, I would placate her, careful not to allude too openly to Hannah’s increasing unfitness for physical labour, lest Richard should overhear and cite my words as grounds for dismissal.

My mind awash with concerns, I progressed from the top, backwards, down the seven steps that led from the street to the front door.  When I was but two steps from the pavement, my contemplation was interrupted by a heavy boot that crushed the ends of the fingers I had spread at my side.  I shrieked.

‘Forgive me,’ I heard a man say and, in a moment, he stooped to enter my field of vision.  Although, turning my head, I couldn’t see his features at once because the morning sun shone directly into my eyes.  ‘Are you hurt?’ he pursued as I got to my feet.  Knowing instantly who he was, I was surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

‘I will live,’ I replied, examining my left hand.  Having been able to see his face, I had witnessed the most handsome man I had ever beheld: brown hair but diamond-blue eyes and the clearest of complexions.  He was tall; little taller than myself but he would tower over Artemisia.

‘If you will permit me, Miss,’ he said, taking hold of my hand and scrutinising the tips of my fingers.

I was aware of the dark hue of the back of my hand and of his hands, sun-bleached by comparison.  They felt assuredly warm against my own chilled flesh.  ‘Really, it’s nothing,’ I insisted, fearing his attentiveness was occasioned by my difference rather than my injury.

‘I can only apologise again,’ he said, looking up from my hand and into my eyes, with just a hint of the smile with which I would become so well-acquainted.

‘There’s no need, Sir,’ I replied, shaking my head in what was, perhaps, an attempt to appear bashful.

By then it had already happened.



About the Author:

Catherine E. Chapman is a UK-based author of women's fiction and contemporary and historical romantic fiction.

Some of Catherine's longer works have been described as accessible character fiction; humour is often an important ingredient.

Catherine's historical romances range in setting from Medieval times to the Twentieth Century. Her seven short historical romances are available individually and in digital and print anthologies.

Catherine's latest book is 'Art & Grace,' a romantic novel set in Regency England. It is available on Kindle, enrolled in Kindle Unlimited and also available in print from Amazon and other retailers.

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