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. When she came to herself, she found that her brother had quitted the room, leaving her to the care of a female attendant. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. The Northern Ocean keeps a secret better than the Thames, Sir Rowland. ” Miss Miniver’s manner became impressive. "Aha!" exclaimed Jackson. Apparently she was always doomed to weep when she talked to her father. \"Let's get out of here. " "Thought so. ” She smiled, sure of herself beyond any pretending, into his troubled eyes. "Your business, Sir?" returned the other, stiffly.
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