And look! I have a whole new website design, by Jeremiah Tolbert of Clockpunk Studios. Shiny, eh?
To celebrate, I’m having a little contest.
What does the winner receive? A letter.
Not just any letter though. I’ll mail you the letter that Jane and Vincent receive in Chapter Two of Without a Summer.
After they had created the glamural for the Prince Regent’s New Year’s fête for the second year running, the Vincents had received scores of commission requests but most had been from parties who were put off once they heard their rates, or else in parts of the country they had no wish to visit, or were so banal as to be uninteresting. Now, though, Jane was restless and wanted to be doing something. “I think so. It is from the Baron of Stratton and he was sent by Sir Lumley, which gives me hope that he has some taste. It is on the table, if you want to read it yourself.”
Vincent lifted her hand from his chest and kissed it, before he pulled away to fetch the letter. He carried it to the window for better light and stood reading it, a shade against the snow. “They offer excellent terms. I suspect Skiffy informed them.”
Jane still could not bring herself to call Sir Lumley St. George Skeffington by his university appellation, but then he and Vincent had known each other at Eton before her husband had cast off his family name to pursue a career as a glamourist. They could be allowed that familiarity. “Do you think he is trying to draw you to London?”
“Doubtless.” Vincent pointed to a line near the top of the paper. “I must say that their notion of hiding a musician’s gallery behind a glamural of song birds is appealing. I wonder… We might scatter birds throughout the room to carry out the theme.”
“Perhaps we could play with a variation on the lointaine vision to transfer the sound to other parts of the room so that the sound comes from the various birds.”
He canted his head to the side and stared into the middle distance, with a look that Jane recognised, and she knew they were going to London. Vincent had already begun drawing plans in his head.
This letter is on period correct paper, folded as though it were sent in the Regency and sealed with wax.
To enter, just take a picture of Without a Summer, in any of its incarnations, in the wild and then post a link in the comments below by noon Central time on Monday, April 8th. I’ll draw a winner using a random number generator and contact you via email for your mailing address.