playful or teasing. He didn’t, as a brother would, give her chin an affectionate pinch and then let her go. Instead he gently tipped up her face so that her large blue eyes were forced to meet his. His thumb brushed away a tear, and then, before Maggie could guess his intention, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her very softly on the lips.
It was a brief kiss, and considering her tears, not a particularly romantic one, but it was the first kiss they’d ever shared. And it was nothing at all like the kiss that a brother would give to his sister.
“Wait for me, Maggie,” Nicholas said. “I’ll find Gentleman Jim, and when I make my fortune, I’ll come back for you.”
He held her gaze for what seemed like an eternity.
“No matter how long it takes,” he vowed. “I will come back.”
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The character of Mr. Atkyns was inspired by Edward Atkyns Bray, a vicar living in Tavistock who died in 1857. Bray was a great proponent of the Dartmoor pony and actively worked to replenish its dwindling numbers. According to his wife, Anna, who wrote extensively on the flora and fauna of Devonshire after her husband’s death, Mr. Bray “reared great numbers of these horses, which were disposed of at an annual sale held on the moor. Since the death of that gentleman the breed is become almost extinct.”
Clara’s experience “shadow-attending” Cambridge was also inspired by Victorian fact. Ambitious girls of that period, often schooled at home along with their brothers, could find it very hard when said brothers departed for college and left them behind. This very situation comes up in Charlotte M. Yonge’s 1856 novel The Daisy Chain.
Ethel is schooled at home with her brother, Norman. When he goes to Oxford, she tries to keep up with him. The situation leads Ethel’s elder sister, Margaret, to utter a few Victorian home truths:
“No,” said Margaret; “but don’t think me very unkind if I say, suppose you left off trying to keep up with Norman.”
“Oh, Margaret! Margaret!” and her eyes filled with tears. “We have hardly missed doing the same every day since the first Latin grammar was put into his hands!”
“I know it would be very hard,” said Margaret; but Ethel continued, in a piteous tone, a little sentimental, “From hie haec hoc up to Alcaics and beta Thukididou we have gone on together, and I can’t bear to give it up. I’m sure I can—”
“Stop, Ethel, I really doubt whether you can. Do you know that Norman was telling papa the other day that it was very odd Dr. Hoxton gave them such easy lessons.”
Ethel looked very much mortified.
“You see,” said Margaret kindly, “we all know that men have more power than women, and I suppose the time has come for Norman to pass beyond you. He would not be cleverer than any one, if he could not do more than a girl at home.”
“He has so much more time for it,” said Ethel.
“That’s the very thing. Now consider, Ethel. His work, after he goes to Oxford, will be doing his very utmost— and you know what an utmost that is. If you could keep up with him at all, you must give your whole time and thoughts to it, and when you had done so—if you could get all the honours in the University—what would it come to? You can’t take a first-class.”
“I don’t want one,” said Ethel; “I only can’t bear not to do as Norman does, and I like Greek so much.”
“And for that would you give up being a useful, steady daughter and sister at home? The sort of woman that dear mamma wished to make you, and a comfort to papa.”
Ethel was silent, and large tears were gathering.
“You own that that is the first thing?”
“Yes,” said Ethel faintly.
It was a miserable position for a bright young lady to find herself in. Fortunately, in 1869, less than a decade after the year in which The Winter Companion is set, Girton College at Cambridge opened its doors to female students.
And now, a word or two on Neville’s head injury…
When I first began my Parish Orphans of Devon series, I envisioned Neville’s fall from the cliffs as being a pivotal event in the lives of all of the orphans. His accident was inspired by an accident of my own—a cervical spine injury after a serious car accident that changed the course of my life. Many of Neville’s feelings about his condition are a mirror of my own feelings after my injury and loss of mobility.
But Neville’s condition isn’t entirely autobiographical. In addition to my research on traumatic brain injuries, I was also inspired by someone I know of who suffered a TBI many years ago, and kept a blog of her experience throughout her recovery and rehabilitation. She was never able to resume her former life, but with patience and support, she created a new kind of life and found great happiness in it.
Disabled people aren’t a monolith. Not everyone with an injury similar to Neville’s feels the same way as he did, or the same way I felt about my own injury. To that end, when writing this story, I may have inadvertently used words or expressed feelings/views about disabilities that some find offensive. For this, I humbly apologize.