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Sorcery and Cecelia: Or the Enchanted Chocolate Pot

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Sorcery and Cecelia: Or the Enchanted Chocolate Pot Cover

ISBN13: 9780152053000
ISBN10: 015205300x
Condition: Standard
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Excerpt

8 April 1817

Rushton Manor, Essex

Dearest Kate,

It is dreadfully flat here since you have been gone, and it only makes it worse to imagine all the things I shall be missing. I wish Aunt Elizabeth were not so set against my having a Season this year. She is still annoyed about the incident with the goat, and says that to let the pair of us loose on London would ruin us both for good, and spoil Georgy's chances into the bargain. I think this is quite unjust, but there is no persuading her. (I believe the fact that she would have been obliged to share a house with Aunt Charlotte, should she and I have come to London this year, may have contributed to her decision.) So I rely on you, dearest cousin, to write and tell me everything! If I am not to be allowed to enjoy a Season of my own, I can at least take a vicarious delight in your and Georgina's triumph! I am quite convinced you will take London by storm.

Not that we are without amusement in Essex; quite the contrary! Aunt Elizabeth and I called at the vicarage yesterday and spent a stimulating afternoon listening to the Reverend Fitzwilliam discoursing on the Vanities of Society and the Emptiness of Worldly Pleasures. Aunt Elizabeth hung on every word, and we are to return and take tea on Thursday. I am determined to have the headache Thursday, if I have to hit myself with a rock to do it.

There is, however, a ray of hope. Lady Tarleton is to have a party for her niece next week. The invitation arrived this morning, and Papa says we are to go! And Aunt Elizabeth approves! She thinks it is to be an informal hop, as Lady Tarleton's niece is not yet out, but Patience Everslee told me in the greatest confidence that there is to be waltzing! I only hope Oliver will stay long enough to accompany us. He has been moping around the house like a sick sheep ever since you and Georgy left, and yesterday he asked Papa, very casually, whether Papa did not think it would be a good idea for him to go to Town this year for a week or two. He thinks he is being very sly, but if he puts off making his arrangements for another day or so Papa will have accepted Lady Tarleton's invitation and Oliver will be obliged to stay here until after the party. I have not, of course, pointed this out to him. Oliver has stated many times his dislike of hearing advice from his younger sister, so it is his own fault if he has not got sense enough to see which way the wind is blowing.

Aunt Elizabeth intends for the two of us to pay a call on Lady Tarleton and her niece on Monday, by way of improving our acquaintance before the ball (which is to say, she wants to have a look at the niece). I shall be on my best behavior, even if the niece turns out to be quite odious. There is no point in looking for difficulties the day before a party.

And there may be more excitement to come. Sir Hilary Bedrick has just been named to the Royal College of Wizards; the whole village is buzzing with the news. I suspect he was chosen because of that enormous library of musty old spellbooks at Bedrick Hall. He left yesterday for London, where he will be installed, but all of us expect great things when he returns. Except, of course, for Aunt Elizabeth, who looks at me sideways and says darkly that magic is for heathens and cannibals, not for decent folk. Perhaps that is why she holds Sir Hilary in such dislike. I would wager my best kid gloves that if it were not for Papa's interest in the historical portions of Sir Hilary's library, Aunt Elizabeth would have cut the connection ages ago.

Do, please, try to find me those silks I asked you about before you left, and if you should happen to see a pair of long gloves that would match my green crape, please, please send them at once! I should so like to look well at Lady Tarleton's party.

Give my love to Georgy and Aunt Charlotte, and do try not to let Aunt Charlotte bully you too much. And do, do write and tell me everything you are doing!

Your loving cousin,

Cecy

10 April 1817

11 Berkeley Square, London

Dear Cecy,

If you've been forced to listen to Reverend Fitzwilliam on the subject of the emptiness of worldly pleasures for hours together, I feel I ought to write something bracing to cheer you up. But after three days of a London Season I find it hard to come to the defense of frivolity with any spirit. Perhaps it will make Rushton seem more amusing to you if I complain vigorously. (Don't worry, I haven't said a word to anyone else, not even Georgina.)

First, there was our arrival in Berkeley Square, a very welcome event after a day spent in the coach with Aunt Charlotte complaining of her migraine and Georgina exclaiming, "Only look, a sedan chair!" at every opportunity. It was very late and we were very tired and soiled with our travels, too weary to feel the proper emotions on entering such a grand house for the first time. (Horace Walpole is by no means Aunt Charlotte's favorite author, but the opportunity to hire the genuine Mayfair town house he genuinely died in for the Season has given her a new appreciation of him and his works.)

Make no mistake, it is very grand. On the outside it is a high, narrow, polite-looking house built of brick. On the inside there is a high-ceilinged entrance hall with a marble staircase winding up two flights. On either side of the hall are reception rooms. The one on the right is called the blue saloon. It is very comfortable with a bow window overlooking the Square. On the left side of the hall is the drawing room, much grander than the blue saloon, furnished with lyre-back chairs, delicate sofas, and a spinet. There are velvet curtains in the windows and a highly polished marble floor, upon which I slipped and sat down hard as we were being shown about the house. This was my first piece of clumsiness in London, but I suspect it will not be my last. The general effect of the marble floor and ivory curtains is almost arctic. Only touches of primrose and black relieve the whiteness. At the top of the two flights of stairs are the bedrooms. Georgina's looks out over the Square and mine faces back into the lane behind the house. If I crane my neck I can see down into the kitchen garden-but there is nothing much to look at. Nothing to compare with the gardens at Rushton.

It seemed like a dream to me, following Georgina up and up the stairs-she like a kind of angel climbing to her proper place, her golden hair bright in the light from the lamps-me like a ramshackle shadow lurking after her, shedding hairpins and stumbling over the hem of my skirts.

The bedrooms are lovely, but that night they seemed grand and cold and I was a little dismayed to find myself in my own room all alone-can you credit it, after I schemed for years to get a room to myself? So I slipped in to Georgina to say good night and get my top buttons undone. Georgina was sitting at her window, trying to guess from the darkened glass what direction she was facing so she could say her prayers toward home. I turned her around and didn't tease her, even when I saw the lock of hair she had clenched in her moist little palm-Oliver's, tied up in a bit of pink ribbon. Can you believe it?

Well, as I say, I got her pointed in the right direction and she got me unbuttoned and told me that I had a smut rubbed clear across my forehead and a spot coming on my chin. (As if I hadn't been driven half-mad feeling it coming out all day long in the coach...) So we parted, she to her prayers and I to my bed, the highest, hardest, narrowest, dampest bed on four lion's paws (London would be grander still if they knew how to air their sheets).

Our first day in London was spent shopping, which means I kicked my heels while Aunt Charlotte and the modiste went into raptures over Georgina. The second day, we were taken to see the Elgin Marbles, which was interesting, and to listen to other people see the Elgin Marbles, which would make the eyes roll right back in your head with boredom. The third day, we went back to shopping and I was able to get gloves. Please find enclosed a pair that I think will suit your pomona green crape to perfection. I bought a pair for myself and have spilt coffee on them already. So you see London hasn't changed me yet.

I feel quite envious about Lady Tarleton's dance. Aunt Charlotte has spoken of Almack's but never yet without looking at me and giving a little shudder of apprehension. She intends to call on Lady Jersey tomorrow. If their acquaintance has been exaggerated (and you know that sometimes people do not care quite as much for Aunt Charlotte as she thinks they do), I don't know how we will obtain vouchers. It is plain, however, that without vouchers for Almack's Assembly, Georgy will never truly shine in Society, no matter how lovely she is. For my own sake, I hope I get to go, too. It would be a shame to have trodden Robert Penwood's feet black and blue learning to dance and then never to get a chance to put it to the test.

Do you think a wizard's installation would be a ladylike thing to attend? We passed the Royal College on the way to the Museum and I'm sure I could find my way.

Do tell me all about the dance and mention Oliver a little so Georgina doesn't sigh herself away entirely.

Love, Kate

Copyright © 2003 by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced

or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work

should be mailed to the following address: Permissions Department, Harcourt, Inc., 6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777.

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Average customer rating based on 5 comments:

mulliner, November 26, 2012 (view all comments by mulliner)
An epistolary novel of a Regency England that never was, but really should have been. I read that it started out as a game, with Wrede and Stevermer taking turns writing chapters, and dropping them off at each other's house, and then they realized it could come together into a novel. Naturally, I can't find that tale online now.

It's the story of two young ladies in a sort-of Regency England, with magic. They live in the country and are of an age when going to London for the season is all they can think about when all sorts of excitement takes place. The story is told in letters written as beautifully as only letters in epistolary novels can be. There are mysterious goings-on in the local country houses to be investigated. There are love interests, danger, and courage!

It is a pure delight. I was with a group of women a few years ago when the subject of books came up, and someone mentioned this. Every single one of us cried out "I love that book!" It's marketed as YA, and certainly is appropriate for that age group to read, but I discovered it in my forties, and adored it.
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Lieder Madchen, April 26, 2011 (view all comments by Lieder Madchen)
This is one of my favorite young adult novels of all time. I cannot count how many times I have read and re-read it. It is hilariously funny and never gets old. At first, before I started reading it the first time, I was not at all sure that I even wanted to try it. Normally I dislike letter stories, but I really liked the other works of Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer, so eventually I borrowed it from the library. As soon as I started, I was hooked. The wit, humor, atmosphere were fantastic. Kate and Cecy manage to get into such absurd and sometimes dangerous situations interspersed with new gowns and garden parties. It was wonderful!
Just yesterday I finished reading this book aloud to my sister (10) and brother (7). I read the whole thing with a faux British accent while attempting to attempting to get all of the emotions right as well. Afterward, I found it difficult in the extreme to go back to my normal speech patterns. I had to edit a couple of sentences aloud for my little brother's benefit, but it didn't seem to make a difference to him or my sister. (They both laughed a lot and my sister made kissy faces at several intervals when she perceived romance in the offing.)
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bookgirl94, January 15, 2011 (view all comments by bookgirl94)
This was so good plus the sequel is just as great!
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Product Details

ISBN:
9780152053000
Author:
Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer
Publisher:
Harcourt Brace and Company
Author:
Wrede, Patricia C.
Author:
Hunter, Sylvia Izzo
Author:
Stevermer, Caroline
Author:
Sullivan, Laura L.
Author:
Offermann, Andrea
Author:
Milford, Kate
Subject:
Science Fiction, Fantasy, & Magic
Subject:
Historical - General
Subject:
Children's 12-Up - Fiction - Science Fiction
Subject:
General Juvenile Fiction
Subject:
Fantasy & Magic
Subject:
Family - General
Subject:
Children s-Science Fiction and Fantasy
Subject:
Fantasy - General
Copyright:
Edition Description:
Trade Paper
Series:
A Noctis Magicae Novel
Series Volume:
1
Publication Date:
20040931
Binding:
TRADE PAPER
Grade Level:
from 12
Language:
English
Illustrations:
Cover illustration by Allen Douglas
Pages:
432
Dimensions:
7 x 4.5 in 0.5 lb
Age Level:
12-17

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Related Subjects

Children's » General
Children's » Historical Fiction » Europe
Children's » Historical Fiction » General
Children's » Science Fiction and Fantasy » General
Fiction and Poetry » Science Fiction and Fantasy » A to Z
Young Adult » General

Sorcery and Cecelia: Or the Enchanted Chocolate Pot Used Mass Market
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Product details 432 pages Harcourt Brace and Company - English 9780152053000 Reviews:
"Synopsis" by ,
The prim and proper world of Regency England crossed with the wizardly doings of high fantasy--now that's something to write home about!

"Synopsis" by ,
Two beautiful teenage sisters, Phil and Fee Albion, descendents of a long line of stage illusionists, are sent from London to the countryside during World War II, only to discover a hidden college of real magicians who just might help them save England from the Nazis. Filled with adventure, danger, romance, and magic, this is a YA fantasy readers will swoon over.
"Synopsis" by , Opening-night jitters are nothing new for seventeen-year-old Phil and her sister Fee, who come from a centuries-old line of stage illusionists. The girls love to dazzle London audiences, but in the aftermath of the Blitz theyre shipped off to the countryside, away from the bombs and Nazis. Phil, however, wants to fight for her country, and when she stumbles upon a hidden college of real magicians led by the devastatingly handsome Arden, all she wants to do is persuade them to help England win the war. Shell risk anything to give her country a fighting chance, even if it means losing her heart . . . or her life.
"Synopsis" by ,
A great deal is happening in London and the country this season.

For starters, there's the witch who tried to poison Kate at the Royal College of Wizards. There's also the man who seems to be spying on Cecelia. (Though he's not doing a very good job of it--so just what are his intentions?) And then there's Oliver. Ever since he was turned into a tree, he hasn't bothered to tell anyone where he is.

Clearly, magic is a deadly and dangerous business. And the girls might be in fear for their lives . . . if only they weren't having so much fun!

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