A caged bird

ROSALIE’S heart was pounding. Tall and formidable in dark coat and breeches, Thomas Charrel stood in the chapel doorway, his eyes on her for what seemed an age. His expression was grim, his gaze as co

I LIFT my head to the weak sun and give thanks for having survived another winter. It’s good to see the lane is passable, even if there are ruts and puddles. However, I can still see the bones of icy,

WHEN Lady Hargreaves told Valerie that she was the third governess to be engaged for Rosa in a little over a year, it had taken Valerie only a few days to realise that the problem was not Rosa herself

MARIANNE groaned as the sound of the shutters being pushed open woke her from a fitful sleep. She half-opened her eyes, but the sun streaming in was too strong. Turning over, she buried her face in th

It’s a brave playwright who would make the young George Eliot his main character; invidious comparisons are bound to lurk in the wings. Alexi Kaye Campbell’s Bird Grove aims to dramatize Mary Ann Evan

Sylvia was bored to tears. She almost wished she’d gone with the others to the garden centre. But she’d had it with garden centres, and what was the point when the gardens here were looked after by pr