2
" Resting a hand on her stomach, she felt a rush of heat fill her body. Though the child within didn't show yet, she would be born in a new world, a world where she had both a mother and a father and a ready-made unconventional family to cherish her, give her strength, love, protection and tell her oh-so-many marvelous stories. She would one day know pain- one could not live and grow without it- but, not abuse. She would never be abandoned, except to the sunshiny blessedness of wonderment. In her world, curiosity would be her breakfast, imagination her dinner and the dreamy silkiness of chocolate and words her supper. "
― Karen Brooks , The Chocolate Maker's Wife
4
" Whatcha do to him?" asked Wat, striding over to his master, shaking him. When there was no response, he turned to her and snarled. "If I find out you've done anything..."
"You'll do what? Tell me," said Rosamund, smiling sweetly. "Complain I didn't press charges after you stole those candlesticks from your master, or the silver urn?"
"I didn't steal them from my master---he was dead."
"Oh, I wasn't referring to Sir Everard---" Rosamund gave a pointed look at Aubrey. "According to your new master, this is his house. His property. And that includes everything within its walls."
Understanding he'd just admitted to the crime, Wat ceased to challenge her and, with a groan, heaved Aubrey up under the arms and managed to throw him across his shoulders.
"I think your master needs a good rest," said Rosamund, following him from the room.
Flashing her a look of pure resentment, Wat knew better than to argue this time. The young woman he'd left to fend for herself was not the same one he faced now. "
― Karen Brooks , The Chocolate Maker's Wife
6
" She had devoted time to improving her reading and was now more than proficient. The shelf she'd first cleared with Bianca overflowed with tales of King Arthur and his knights, Ovid's poetry, plays by Sophocles, Aristotle and Aeschylus, Apuleius, names she loved repeating in her mind because the mere sound of them conjured the drama, pageantry, passion, transformations and suffering of their heroes and heroines. One of her favorite writers was Geoffrey Chaucer-- his poems of pilgrims exchanging stories as they traveled to a shrine in Canterbury were both heart aching and often sidesplittingly funny.
Admittedly, one of the reasons she loved Chaucer was because she could read him for herself. It was the same reason she picked up Shakespeare over and over, and the works of Margaret Cavendish, the Duchess of Newcastle upon Tyne. They all wrote in English. Regarded as quite the eccentric, the duchess was a woman of learning who, like Rosamund, was self-taught. Her autobiography, A True Relation of my Birth, Breeding and Life, a gift from Mr. Henderson, gave Rosamund a model to emulate. Here was a woman who dared to consider not only philosophy, science, astronomy and romance, but to write about her reflections and discoveries in insightful ways. Defying her critics, she determined that women were men's intellectual equal, possessed of as quick a wit and as many subtleties if only given the means to express themselves-- in other words, access to education. "
― Karen Brooks , The Chocolate Maker's Wife
9
" I pray you do not judge me by what is written there..."
Rosamund glanced down at the papers in her hands. "But if a man cannot be judged by his words, good sir, then pray, how does one judge him?"
Mr. Nessuno stepped closer, his cerulean eyes capturing hers. "By his deeds, my lady, by his deeds."
The sincerity of the statement made her catch her breath. She laughed to cover how very disconcerting she found his nearness. The smell of him reminded her of the chocolate kitchen, the headiness and rich spice. She stepped back and struck him lightly with the pages.
"That is true, sir, unless, I assume, one is a correspondent. Then, surely, words--- the weapon he wields--- maketh the man? "
― Karen Brooks , The Chocolate Maker's Wife
11
" Ever since she left Bearwoode Manor there'd been people dictating what she should do, think, feel-- how she should behave. Why, even her grandmother had, but to good purpose. Now for the first time in her life it was as if, like a reptile, she'd shed her skin, abandoned an old version of herself and was ready to strike out anew, every day becoming more resistant to the expectations of others-- of men.
Part of her longed to fly free, not to escape the chocolate house or Blithe Manor, but to relish what these places gave her-- freedom and safety, and within those bounds, the liberties they bestowed. "
― Karen Brooks , The Chocolate Maker's Wife
20
" From what I understand, signora, the Quakers, who are also known as Friends, are a small group of devout people who worship in silence, believing no one person can interpret the word of the Lord but all have the Light of God in them. When it shines, whoever feels it may address others--- the Friends--- who gather for meetings. They believe that under the loving eyes of God the Father, all men and women are equal."
"Equal? Men and women?" Rosamund could scarce believe it.
"Men and women, the nobles and the poor, the gentry and the servants-- even those with dusky skins or cream. All the same."
"And they worship in silence? How?"
"By communing with God in their own way. "
― Karen Brooks , The Chocolate Maker's Wife