Portrait Of A Lady Book Novels & Stories

The pretty lady had a petite build with wide hips, her hands holding onto a list and several books. Dorothy stiffened. The new woman’s eyes were focused on Theodore, a shy, tender smile curving her lips. Daffodil flinched when a loud noise at her right caught her attention. She whirled around to stare wide-eyed. A gorgeous lady stood glaring at her, arms crossed over her chest. Glancing down, Daffodil saw the lady had laid a heavy stack of books on the table. “New librarian?” Her voice was cold and annoyed.

Mahogany desk sat near the window, covered in neatly stacked papers, pens arranged with precision. For the first time since arriving here, I felt a flicker of surprise tug at my lips. I had not imagined Lorenzo like this. Cold, distant, unreadable, yes. But someone who collected books, who had a place that felt... lived in? That was different. I wiped down the desk slowly, fingers tracing across the smooth surface until something made me stop. It’s a frame— not just ordinary one. The photograph inside was simple. It’s a girl, caught mid-laugh, as if the camera had stolen a moment she had not meant to share. She was beautiful, not in a polished or rehearsed way, but in that natural kind of be

“Your dress looks beautiful, Lady Adelaide.” I freeze and see a familiar dark-haired purple dress-wearing queen. Queen Tria of Raleigh has her eyes on a book and she’s sitting at the far corner of the library, closer to the window than anyone I've seen here lately. Her hair is unbound and it looks luscious and silky resting on her pale skin. I walk over and execute a respectful curtsy. “You look no less dashing your Highness.” My eyes catch on the cover of the book she’s reading and my reaction is instantaneous. She notices and smirks.

Anne haggard, Mary coarse, every face in the neighbourhood worsting, and the rapid increase of the crow's foot about Lady Russell's temples had long been a distress to him. Elizabeth did not quite equal her father in personal contentment. Thirteen years had seen her mistress of Kellynch Hall, presiding and directing with a self-possession and decision which could never have given the idea of her being younger than she was. For thirteen years had she been doing the honours, and laying down the domestic law at home, and leading the way to the chaise and four, and walking immediately after Lady Russell out of all the drawing-rooms and dining-rooms in the country. Thirteen winters' revolving fro

So you don't need to care about her much, live a life of your own. Standing right behind the mother was a beautiful girl like a lotus. The long, iridescent black hair that you let loose at will also fascinates many men, the oval face combined with the willow-leaf feet and the eyes like autumn water, the whole person exudes a dignified and meek aura. Shophia Marin looked at the girl from top to bottom wearing expensive jewelry and designer clothes, no servant dared to wear such clothes to work. This girl is definitely the female lead in the original novel, the female lead's image is described very meticulously by the author, unexpectedly beautiful in real life.

was all she could say until she dozed off. ***END OF FLASHBACK That was how she got the book. Going back to the present, Lady Vienna stopped, blinking a few times. What just happened? The man just...disappeared? Did I see it correctly? She wondered. "This is not the right time yet. You should not have burned the book.”

I quietly set the book back down, but then the very thing that I dreaded catches my eye. The painting. I feel drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. Without thinking, I step up to it and grasp the sheet. With one tug, the sheet cascades to the floor. I drop my sandwich. The dark haired woman stares back at me. The painting that’s been hiding behind the sheet this whole time is a portrait of her. Of Luna. She’s beautifully poised, sitting in the very chair that is uncovered now. She wears a beautiful blue, silky gown with long bell sleeves; the same one that Alice tried to stuff me in during my first week at the castle.

My fingers brush against something different. A rolled vellum. My breath hitches as I carefully extract it, unrolling it with trembling hands. The paper is aged yet well-preserved, and as it unfurls, a painted portrait comes into view. A woman. She is breathtakingly beautiful with delicate features, ethereal eyes that seem to hold untold secrets and an enigmatic smile. Who is she?

The fight wasn't over yet. ~*~ I closed the book and went to keep it safely on the table but something fell from it. I bent down to pick it up. It was a portrait of a woman. She had shining golden shimmering blonde hair. Her blue swirling eyes were drawn beautifully. The white linen gown hung effortlessly on her curvy body. My hands trembled as recognition evoked in my senses. It was her. The women I saw in my dream. At this moment it was no more a myth. It was true, at least for me.

And when she raised her eyes, she finally saw her… The sight was breathtaking. She felt her lips part in surprise. To say that the lady in the portrait was beautiful would be understating the matter dramatically. Her eyes were the colour of the ocean, with a calmness in them, but as you looked long enough, you could see the raging storm within as well. Her hair fell into golden brown curls on either side of her face, covering her ears and matching beautifully with her fair skin. The smile she wore made Eira wonder if she had ever seen anyone as gorgeous before.