This book touched me in a personal way. About four years ago, I was living in a big house in a fancy neighborhood with a pool, about ten rooms, and a beautiful curved staircase. My first book was out with a great publisher, and I was scrambling around for what to write next.
As a child, I’ve always held a sick fascination for the guillotine, and since I needed a new book to write, I began researching the time when the guillotine was most frequently used—the French revolution.
I began learning more about the “haves” and “have nots.” Those with an abundance of material wealth v. those who struggle to put together a meal for their families. I was especially touched and sympathetic toward the mothers who couldn’t feed their children at the time.
It was then that I started looking about my fancy house and thought, “What can I do to help impoverished people in my age?
With the help of my husband, we sold our place and moved to simple community in the country. We patched together enough cash to buy a smaller home so that we wouldn’t have a mortgage. This would mean that we'd have more time to volunteer at church, our community, and to pursue the vocations we felt the Lord wanted us to lead. Far too much about the reader!! But this gives context, so thanks for bearing with me!
Towards the end of The Nobleman’s Daughter, Lord Daniel said a line of dialogue that spoke to my heart directly. “When I see others suffering, without food or a place to live, I feel an obligation to help them. How can I live like I do, when my very lifestyle and the laws which I help create and uphold keep men in an impoverished state, unable to rise or make anything for themselves?” I actually grabbed a highlighter and marked the passage. I agree with his sentiments completely. It’s also the point in the book when Lady Amanda saw Lord Nathaniel’s true heart—what drives him as a human being. This is the crux of the book. To fight for freedom to share with those who have fewer luxuries.
I love the purity of the main characters, all the tingling sensations I experienced from their longing looks and innocent touches. Written with finesse and beauty! I loved the selflessness and bravery of Charlie, and I appreciated the author’s attention to the details in dress, customs, and politics of the time.
For me, the frosting on the cake was a quote from Percy Bysshe Shelley’s The Mask of Anarchy. Two years ago when I read that poem, I marked it up and told my husband how magnificent it was. I remember thinking that I wanted to learn more about the massacre at Peterloo, and Jen Geigle Jonson gave me my answer in a most talented way. This story is sweet, realistic, and a much-needed reminder that we all should give more to those who have less—even better if we do it with hidden identities.