Deverill Chronicles
by Santa Montefiore
Last
year, international sensation Santa Montefiore captured the attention of readers
and critics alike with her novel The Girl
in the Castle. With starred trade and rave reviews, readers understood why
her books have sold over two million copies worldwide. This summer, Santa
returns with THE DAUGHTERS OF IRELAND, the second book in the romantic
and unforgettable Deverill Chronicles trilogy, which follows three women
in Ireland through the decades of the twentieth century (William Morrow Trade
Paperback Original; on sale 8/15).
In
THE DAUGHTERS OF IRELAND, it is 1925
and the Anglo-Irish war is long over, but life will never be the same again. Pearched
atop the emerald hills of West Cork, Ireland, Castle Deverill has been home to
the Deverill family for hundreds of years, until it fell prey to a devastating
attack during the war. Young Celia (Deverill) Mayberry and her husband bought
the estate, determined to restore it to its former glory. For Celia, the castle
holds many fond childhood memories of when she ran through its halls with her
cousin Kitty Deverill and their friend Bridie Doyle, and she cannot bear to see
it neglected.
But
not everyone is elated. Although Kitty is grateful to her cousin for purchasing
the castle and ensuring it will remain in the family, she is wistful for the
days when she was the mistress of Castle Deverill. While she is content in her
new life with her husband, Robert, and her adopted son, JP, her heart still
yearns for Jack O’Leary, the man she left behind. As Kitty struggles with her
choices, she must make a heartbreaking decision that could hurt those closest
to her.
Wealthy
and the toast of the town in New York City, Bridie Doyle has come a long way
since she was the daughter of one of the cooks at Castle Deverill. But all her
money cannot ease the pain over having given away her baby. When she finds
love, she is tempted to return to her beloved homeland—even if it means she
must face the woman against whom she has sworn revenge.
As
Celia wastes no time, or expense, in hiring workers to renovate Castle
Deverill, dark shadows are gathering once more, as the financial markets begin
to shake. Now everything that felt so certain is cast into doubt. As their
destinies collide, these daughters of Ireland must find the inner strength to
build a new future.
A
sweeping story of family and history, THE
DAUGHTERS OF IRELAND is an exquisite novel set once again in the
captivating Irish landscape.
William Morrow Trade Paperback Original
On Sale: August 15, 2017
ISBN: 9780062456885; Price: $15.99;
E-Book ISBN: 9780062456892; E-Book Price: $10.99
Other Book in the Series:
![The The Irish Girl: A Novel (Deverill Chronicles) by [Montefiore, Santa]](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51%2Bi29tCMvL.jpg)
~*~*~*~*~*~
Excerpt:
At last the castle came into view.
The western tower where her grandmother had set up residence until her death
was intact but the rest of it resembled the bones of a great beast gradually
decaying into the forest. Ivy and bindweed pulled on the remaining walls, crept
in through the empty windows and endeavored to claim every last stone. And yet,
for Kitty, the castle still held a mesmeric allure.
She trotted across the ground that
had once been the croquet lawn but was now covered in long grasses and weeds.
She dismounted and led her horse around to the front, where her cousin was
waiting for her beside a shiny black car. Celia Mayberry stood alone, dressed
in an elegant cloche hat beneath which her blond hair was tied into a neat
chignon, and a long black coat that almost reached the ground. When she saw
Kitty her face broke into a wide, excited smile.
“Oh my darling Kitty!” she gushed,
striding up and throwing her arms around her. She smelled strongly of tuberose
and money and Kitty embraced her fiercely.
“This is a lovely surprise,” Kitty
exclaimed truthfully, for Celia loved Castle Deverill almost as much as she
did, having spent every summer of her childhood there with the rest of the
“London Deverills,” as their English cousins had been known. Kitty felt the
need to cling to her with the same ferocity with which she clung to her
memories, for Celia was one of the few people in her life who hadn’t changed,
and as she grew older and further away from the past, Kitty felt ever more
grateful for that. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? You could have
stayed with us.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” said
Celia, who looked like a child about to burst with a secret.
“Well, you certainly did that.”
Kitty looked up at the facade. “It’s like a ghost, isn’t it? A ghost of our
childhood.”
“But it will be rebuilt,” said
Celia firmly.
Kitty looked anxiously at her
cousin. “Do you know who bought it? I’m not sure I can bear to know.”
Celia laughed. “Me!” she exclaimed.
“I have bought it. Isn’t that wonderful? I’m going to bring back the ghosts of
the past and you and I can relive the glorious moments all over again through
our children.
“You, Celia?” Kitty gasped in
astonishment. “You bought Castle Deverill?”
“Well, technically Archie bought
it. What a generous husband he is!” She beamed with happiness. “Isn’t it a
riot, Kitty? Well, I’m a Deverill too! I have just as much right as anyone else
in the family. Say you’re happy, do!”
“Of course I’m happy. I’m relieved
it’s you and not a stranger, but I admit I’m a little jealous too,” Kitty said
sheepishly.
Celia flung her arms around her
cousin again. “Please don’t hate me. I did it for us. For the family. The
castle couldn’t possibly go to a stranger. It would be like giving away one’s
own child. I couldn’t bear to think of someone else building over our memories.
This way we can all enjoy it. You can continue to live in the White House,
Uncle Bertie in the Hunting Lodge if he so wishes and we can all be terribly
happy again. After everything we’ve suffered we deserve to find happiness,
don’t you think?”
Kitty laughed affectionately at her
cousin’s fondness of the dramatic. “You’re so right, Celia. It will be
wonderful to see the castle brought back to life and by a Deverill no less.
It’s the way it should be. I only wish it were me.”
Celia put a gloved hand on her stomach. “I’m going to have a
baby, Kitty,” she announced, smiling.
“Goodness, Celia, how many more
surprises have you in store for me?”
“Just that and the castle. How
about you? Do hurry up. I pray we are both blessed with girls so that they can
grow up here at Castle Deverill just like we did.” And Kitty realized then that
Celia had placed herself here within these castle walls for more than merely
the annual month of August. She was one of those shallow people who rewrote
their own history and believed in the absolute truth of their version. “Come
on,” Celia continued, taking Kitty’s hand and pulling her through the doorframe
into the space where once the great hall had been. “Let’s explore. I have grand
plans, you know. I want it to be just the same as it was when we were girls,
but better. Do you remember the last Summer Ball? Wasn’t it marvelous?”
Kitty and Celia waded through the
weeds that grew up to their knees, marveling at the small trees that had seeded
themselves among the thistles and thorns and stretched their spindly branches
toward the light. The ground was soft against their boots as they moved from
room to room, disturbing the odd rook and magpie that flew indignantly into the
air. Celia chattered on, reliving the past in colorful anecdotes and fond
reminiscences, while Kitty was unable to stop the desolation of her ruined home
falling upon her like a heavy black veil. With a leaden heart she remembered
her grandfather Hubert, killed in the fire, and her grandmother Adeline who had
died alone in the western tower only a month ago. She thought of Bridie’s
brother, Michael Doyle, who had set the castle ablaze, and her own foolish
thirst for recrimination, which had only led to her shame in his farmhouse where
no one had heard her cries. Her thoughts drifted to her lover, Jack O’Leary,
and their meeting at the wall where he had held her tightly and begged her to
flee with him to America, then later, on the station platform, when he had been
arrested and dragged away. Her head began to spin. Her heart contracted with
fear as the monsters of the past were roused from sleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Santa Montefiore has written seventeen bestselling novels, which are
translated into thirty languages and sold well over four
million copies worldwide. She lives with her husband, the historian and
broadcaster Simon Sebag-Montefiore, and their two children in London.
Visit
Santa’s Website: www.santamontefiore.co.uk
Like Santa on Facebook:
www.facebook.com/SantaMontefioreBooks
Follow
Santa on Instagram: @SantaMontefiore
No comments:
Post a Comment