[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/A-Tapestry-of-Light.jpg” title_text=”A Tapestry of Light” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text admin_label=”ABOUT THE BOOK” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n
ABOUT THE BOOK:<\/strong><\/p>\n Title:<\/b> A Tapestry of Light Calcutta, 1886.<\/strong><\/p>\n Ottilie Russell is adrift between two cultures, British and Indian, belonging to both and neither. In order to support her little brother, Thaddeus, and her grandmother, she relies upon her skills in beetle-wing embroidery that have been passed down to her through generations of Indian women.<\/p>\n When a stranger appears with the news that Thaddeus is now Baron Sunderson and must travel to England to take his place as a nobleman, Ottilie is shattered by the secrets that come to light. Despite her growing friendship with Everett Scott, friend to Ottilie’s English grandmother and aunt, she refuses to give up her brother. Then tragedy strikes, and she is forced to make a decision that will take Thaddeus far from death and herself far from home.<\/p>\n But betrayal and loss lurk in England, too, and soon Ottilie must fight to ensure Thaddeus doesn’t forget who he is, as well as find a way to stitch a place for herself in this foreign land.<\/p>\n PURCHASE LINKS*:<\/b> Goodreads<\/a> | Amazon<\/a> | Barnes & Noble<\/a> | BookDepository<\/a> | IndieBound<\/a> | Christianbook<\/a> | BookBub<\/a><\/p>\n <\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n Excerpts from A Tapestry of Light<\/em> by Kimberly Duffy<\/strong><\/p>\n Excerpt 1<\/strong><\/p>\n Ottilie set her packages on the table beside the settee and drew the shawl from its wrapping. She carefully unfolded it and laid it over Mrs. Winship\u2019s lap. As Ottilie pulled the reticule free, she watched Mrs. Winship\u2019s fingers trace the intricate embroidery edging the ruffle, her nails catching the elytra splayed in a floral pattern.<\/p>\n \u201cYour mother was quite good. How do I know she didn\u2019t do this work?\u201d<\/p>\n Ottilie\u2019s brows rose. \u201cYou don\u2019t, I suppose, but why would I take on work I\u2019m not qualified to do?\u201d She held out the reticule.<\/p>\n Mrs. Winship didn\u2019t reach for it. She picked up the shawl and shoved it at Ottilie before leaning back against the settee. With an elegant yawn, she gave a wave. \u201cI\u2019m sure you\u2019re qualified<\/em>, but I\u2019m looking for something exceptional. Damaris is reaching an age where even our money won\u2019t be enough to turn a man\u2019s head. She needs to look spectacular. Especially with all those Fishing Fleet girls coming and stealing the Raj\u2019s best men.\u201d She pressed her fingers to her temples, and her eyes drifted shut. \u201cIt\u2019s a shame your mother is no longer here. I had something spectacular in mind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMother!\u201d Damaris\u2019s rebuke covered Ottilie\u2019s small gasp.<\/p>\n Ottilie focused on the paper-wrapped shoes she held in her arms. She didn\u2019t want to show this foreign woman the gift she\u2019d made for the most precious person in Calcutta. Didn\u2019t want her pale fingers prodding the embroidery and picking apart the memories Ottilie had tucked away of hours snipping wings and beading thread and giggling in the lamplight, impatiently anticipating Maji\u2019s joy and pride and the sight of her small, perfectly arched foot slipping into something beautiful again.<\/p>\n Excerpt 2<\/strong><\/p>\n Ottilie pushed up from her mat and, ignoring her mourning gown, wrapped herself round and round in the white sari. The gauzy fabric slid over her hips and swathed her shoulders. She pulled the neatly hemmed edge around her back and tucked it into her waistband.<\/p>\n There. Now that she was hidden and protected within a brilliant chrysalis, God could do something with her shattered spirit. With time, maybe a butterfly would emerge. When she wore European dress, expected of her because of her majority of English blood, she drew stares and abuse from British and Indian alike.<\/p>\n When she wore a sari, because she looked Indian, she could hide. No one noticed her. Her waist was uncrushed by stays, and her movements unhampered by bustle and heavy fabric meant for foggy days. Maybe the most Anglophile in their Eurasian community would raise their brows and the aunties would gossip about Ottilie behind raised hands, but no one would say anything. Especially in her grief. And today she wanted to be like N?n?. Wanted to distance herself from the feelings that came whenever she donned woolen gowns\u2014as though she were a child playing dress-up. Clothing that didn\u2019t fit properly. A look that endeared her to no one and drew distrustful pale English eyes and resentful Bengali frowns.<\/p>\n Excerpt 3<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re young. There\u2019s no reason to say you\u2019ll never<\/em> marry. Why? No. You will marry someday, and it might as well be someone who can feed us. Keep Thaddeus in school.\u201d N?n? crossed her arms, matching Ottilie\u2019s posture.<\/p>\n N?n? didn\u2019t know. Had never met Victor. Had never seen him resplendent in his gold-braided uniform. Had never been tugged into a dark corner of the Imperial Museum and held in his arms. Had never heard Ottilie whisper a frantic yes<\/em> when he proposed. Hadn\u2019t noticed when Ottilie wept when it ended only four months after Papa\u2019s death. Because there had been so much weeping, and how would she know Ottilie shed tears over a cowardly soldier, not again for the loss of father and siblings?<\/p>\n She didn\u2019t know, and Ottilie wouldn\u2019t tell her. And even if Ottilie did, one day, set aside her vow not to marry, she wouldn\u2019t be coerced into a marriage of convenience. Not when she\u2019d grown up watching the restrained passion and evident love between her parents. \u201cI don\u2019t love him, N?n?. I never could.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPsssh, love. What did it bring me but heartache? Even your mother suffered from it. Better to marry a man you merely like<\/em> so that if he rejects you, you won\u2019t grow cold, and if he dies, you won\u2019t grow weak from grief.\u201d<\/p>\n Ottilie stood and looked down at her grandmother, able to see the fear in N?n?\u2019s drawn face. Her grandmother only wanted to spare them the indignity of poverty. Her stubborn meddling was birthed in love and concern.<\/p>\n Ottilie held out her hand and helped N?n? to her feet. Placing her hands on her grandmother\u2019s narrow shoulders, she pressed a kiss to her forehead. \u201cI love you and would do almost anything to see you happy, but I won\u2019t do this. I\u2019d rather marry no man than marry a man I feel as much for as I do a jackfruit.\u201d<\/p>\n Excerpt 4<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been sent here for a purpose, and I\u2019m surprised your mother mentioned nothing of my coming.\u201d<\/p>\n Ottilie narrowed her eyes. \u201cBeing struck down by a horse has a way of obstructing conversations\u2014even important ones.\u201d<\/p>\n Mr. Scott sighed. \u201cI must know\u2014was your mother Indian, and is she also Thaddeus\u2019s mother?\u201d<\/p>\n Ottilie didn\u2019t want to answer. Didn\u2019t want to give his impudent question another thought. But if her mother had expected this man, invited him to their home, Ottilie wanted to know why, and she wasn\u2019t sure he\u2019d give her the answers she needed if she didn\u2019t give him the ones he did.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Sonia and Edwin Russell are the parents of us both. My mother is Eurasian\u2014she has a British father and Indian mother. I look like my grandmother. Thaddeus looks like\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour grandfather.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, my father. Thaddeus looks nothing like the colonel.\u201d<\/p>\n He shook his head. \u201cI meant your father\u2019s father. He\u2019s the exact replica, except for the brown hair. Your grandfather had blond hair.\u201d<\/p>\n Ottilie\u2019s breath caught in her chest, and something hard and impossible to ignore fisted her stomach. \u201cYou know my father\u2019s family?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cQuite well. They sent me here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d she whispered. The English Russells had never contacted them before. Father alluded to some kind of falling out, but otherwise never spoke of his family except to say he had two brothers and a younger sister.<\/p>\n \u201cThaddeus is\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u201d Mr. Scott laughed in a nervous way. \u201cThere is no easy way to say this. Your father\u2019s eldest brother, Newell, was killed in a carriage accident nine months ago, and he had only daughters. Four of them. They\u2019ve gone north to live with their mother and her family. The second brother, who died three years ago in the Anglo-Zulu War, wasn\u2019t married. That makes Thaddeus the new Baron Sunderson.\u201d<\/p>\n Ottilie laughed. \u201cThaddeus .\u00a0.\u00a0. a baron? That\u2019s not possible.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut it is. And your grandmother, Lady Sunderson, has sent me here to bring him home.\u201d<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text admin_label=”ABOUT THE AUTHOR” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/strong><\/p>\n CONNECT WITH KIMBERLY:<\/b> Website<\/a> | Facebook<\/a> | Instagram<\/a><\/p>\n <\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text admin_label=”GIVEAWAY” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n TOUR GIVEAWAY:<\/strong><\/p>\n (1) winner will receive a print copy of A Tapestry of Light<\/i>, A Mosaic of Wings<\/i>, and Recipes from an Indian Kitchen<\/i>!<\/p>\n Full tour schedule linked below. Giveaway began at midnight March 22, 2021 and will last through 11:59 PM EST on March 29, 2021. Winner will be notified within 2 weeks of close of the giveaway and given 48 hours to respond or risk forfeiture of prize. US only. Void where prohibited by law or logistics.<\/p>\n Giveaway is subject to the policies found here<\/a>.<\/p>\n
Author: <\/b>Kimberly Duffy
Publisher:<\/b> Bethany House Publishers
Release date:<\/b> March 16, 2021
Genre:<\/b> Christian Historical Romance<\/p>\n
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Kimberly Duffy<\/b> is a Long Island native currently living in Southwest Ohio, via six months in India. When she’s not homeschooling her four kids, she writes historical fiction that takes her readers back in time and across oceans. She loves trips that require a passport, recipe books, and practicing kissing scenes with her husband of twenty years. He doesn’t mind.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/A-Tapestry-of-Light-Giveaway.jpg\")
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