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~ Magnificat of the Damned. Book IV: Anvil ~ by Spiced Wine Mature
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Shoutbox

Spiced Wine
09/20/18 12:15 pm
That was what I was doing, too! Glad you sorted it out :)
Gabriel
09/20/18 12:03 pm
Thank you Spiced! But I think I've figured it out. I think I inadvertantly missed something out. *Shakes head at self* Anyway I skipped previewing and just added and it seems to have worked.
Spiced Wine
09/20/18 11:52 am
You could just email me the text, with the charcters, ratings, summary etc
Spiced Wine
09/20/18 11:51 am
Who had this problem recently? Gabriel, I have access to posting fic, if you can send me your fic I could try and post it, although I am out for a while
Gabriel
09/20/18 11:45 am
Now its telling me i can't go past 'O' in the character section.
Spiced Wine
09/20/18 11:45 am
Also ensure everything you need to check on the form has been checked
Spiced Wine
09/20/18 11:44 am
I get that message myself, sometimes, it is a glitch, and I have to try again
Gabriel
09/20/18 11:33 am
Okay trying again.
Spiced Wine
09/20/18 11:25 am
So I am stumped! Yes, try going back?
Spiced Wine
09/20/18 11:24 am
Well, there are no chapters waiting to be validated on here, which is a glitch but *sometimes* happens
Shout Archive


Star of Africa by Glorfindel

[Reviews - 34]   Printer Chapter or Story
Table of Contents

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Story notes:
Beta: Keiliss – thank you :D
Artist: Erulisse - Sandra Graves, Isis Rising, Artistic Endeavors with Wings of Light. http://www.IsisRising08.com (artwork) and http://erulissedances.livejournal.com (fiction)
Chapter notes:
December 1905 - Regent’s Lodge, the London residence of Count Glorfindel.


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 photo Chapter1Heading_zps6e263a67.jpg

December 1905 - Regent’s Lodge, the London residence of Count Glorfindel.

“I say, Fin; it’s getting a bit dark in here,” Bunchy Cheverell said as he poked the fire. Bunchy, a chum of mine who normally rooms at his club when in London was spending the holiday season with me instead of cruising around the Mediterranean with his aunt. She is a veritable dragon, ceaselessly expounding on the evils of drink and the questionable benefits of temperance.

I rang the bell and had to wait for two minutes before my housekeeper, Mrs. Clavell, appeared, causing me to wonder where the butler was.

“You rang, My Lord?”

“Indeed I did. It is getting dark in here.”

“I will ask Fosberry to light the gas lamps, My Lord.” She curtseyed and left the room.

Fosberry appeared almost immediately and set to his task. When the lamps were fully lit the whole room was bathed in a cosy glow, which contrasted starkly with the dimly lit street outside. Driving sleet slapped against the window panes and slid down to the sills, partially melting upon contact with the glass. I thought how fortunate I was to be in front of a warm log fire.

“Will that be all, My Lord?” Fosberry asked. I suspected that Mrs. Clavell was within listening range, otherwise he would not be so formal.

“That will be all, Fosberry, thank you,” I replied. “Mrs Clavell can serve tea.”

The paperboy outside in the street, beyond the gates of my house, yelled something about some jewels. Fosberry and I exchanged glances and smiled. “It would seem, My Lord, that you require a newspaper.”

“Indeed.”

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