The Victorian Novels & Stories

Victoria got home in the morning. She went through a long way to get back to her town. Instead of looking like a girl who worked in a big city, Victoria looked more like she just came out of a stormy rain. “Lady Vic….” She had just passed some maids who tried to greet her; she walked toward her father’s study room and couldn’t wait to cry in his arms. But she stopped before opening the door when she heard Edward Addam talking to someone else inside.

Suddenly they're talking about the equinox festival, and I'm spared. "You can always change your major again," Harvey says. "Yeah, I'm thinking I'll give history a go again." "What part of history would you most want to learn about?" I set my fork on the rim of my plate. "The Victorians, probably, and not just because this is a very Victorian town, and I live in a very Victorian house." He asks, "What is it about them?" "Their attention to detail, obsession with death, misuse of poisons, gothic novels — they're so theatrically strange. I think it'd be fun."

What if Austin wakes up and says he doesn't love me anymore? Queen Victoria: Oh darling you don't have to worry about that... (quietly) Because I'll make sure he NEVER wakes up! (She murderously hides a d@gger in her robe) To be CONTINUED Y'all please help me with wonderful likes and comments

She empathized as she rubbed my back. Just then we heard footsteps approaching us, Aaron came in and he smiled brightly when he saw me sitting with Victoria. “Greetings to thy majesties Queen Elizabeth and Queen Victoria, thanks to thee for gracing me with thy presence.” He said as he bowed in front up to us, before cracking up at his own joke like a maniac. “Why are you talking like Shakespeare?” Victoria asked in a perplexed tone. “Yeah in Elizabethan times and Victorian England, they spoke in modern English I think.” I informed him but he just brushed me off and continued laughing at his ‘funny’ joke.

“ W-Why?” “ V-Victoria….why?”

Victor added. ****

he coughed, his eyes alight with the tales of the past, “Queen Victoria’s reign began in 1837. She was the second-longest reigning Queen of England, coming just behind the current matriarch, Queen Elizabeth II. The Victorian Era is most notable – in my humble opinion – for its rapid advances in technology. This was the time of trains, of the London Underground, of vaccines and of cures and of education.” I kept my eyes focused on the powerpoint slide as he spoke. I agreed with him, to an extent – the Victorian Era had been incredible, awe-inspiring. But it had also brought with it death, in the crowded, smog-filled cities, and i

The colors were wrong. Not wrong, that was the wrong word. The colors were not Victoria's. Victoria was navy and charcoal and the particular deep burgundy she had worn to the Meridian Club dinner, Victoria was the dark palette of someone who needed to occupy a room with authority rather than warmth, who needed to be seen as composed before she was seen as anything else. The colors on the hanging rail were not those colors. The colors on the hanging rail were — she stood in the doorway and looked at them and her chest did something she had not prepared for — the colors were hers.

"You loved what I represented. The status, the wealth, the power. But you never loved me." "And what does she love?" Victoria's mask cracks slightly, revealing something raw underneath. "Your money? Your ability to save her from poverty? At least I loved you when you had nothing to offer but yourself." "That's not true, and you know it." I move closer to where Victoria stands. "You met Brett when he was already successful. When Graham Industries was already worth billions." "I met him when he was still building his empire. Before he became the cold, ruthless machine he is now." Victoria turns to Brett with something that might be genuine pain in her eyes. "I knew you when you still had dream

My fairytale had begun. Victoria. The name itself was a subtle hiss, a whisper of unspoken competition that had shadowed my happiness. It wasn't that she was overtly cruel, not in a way that would incite outright rebellion or garner sympathy. Victoria operated on a different plane, one of polished smiles and barbed compliments, of carefully cultivated perceptions and an uncanny ability to find the softest underbelly of anyone she deemed a rival. And in her eyes, from the moment Earnest and I had become an undeniable fixture in the school’s social ecosystem, I was precisely that: a rival.