The Sculptress V.S. Alexander (ebooks that read to you .txt) 📖

And with that, good night, dear Emma.

My love is for you. Always.

Linton

Struggling to catch her breath, Emma dropped the letter, watching as its pages fluttered to the brick. She cupped her hands over her face and cried out as Anne stepped into the courtyard.

* * *

Emma retrieved her pad and drew with a fervor she hadn’t felt in years, the lines coming furiously from her pencil. Narcissus Rising took shape, in all forms and dimensions. The muscular torso was Linton’s—she knew it and was happy to see his body reappear before her. In one of the sketches, a frontal nude, she had drawn his face and was pleased with the outcome. Linton’s handsome features peered out from the page, the lines flowing, human and filled with love.

Lazarus curled around her feet. The French doors were flung open. The sun had drifted far past the courtyard walls. Anne had released Diana from the confines of its crate and the bronze sat on the table, a silent testament to Linton, his fingerprints still smudging the metal.

The room was growing dark when Anne brought tea. “You need a lamp. You’ll ruin your eyes drawing in this light.”

Emma put down her pencil, brushing off her housekeeper’s concern. “After the baby is born, I want to work again.”

“Sculpting?” Anne asked.

“Yes. This will be my first project.” She flipped the pages of her pad so Anne could view the drawings.

“They’re very nice,” Anne said modestly. “They’re of Mr. Bower, aren’t they?”

Emma nodded. “The faces are very good, don’t you think? I think they’re the best I’ve ever drawn.”

“I would say they’re perfect. Would you like something to eat?”

“No,” Emma replied, “but could you do something for me?”

“Of course.”

“Tomorrow morning, arrange a cab. After breakfast, I’m going to the Copley Plaza to visit Dr. Swan. I want to meet with him—on my terms. I have many things to discuss—and to share a secret I’ve been holding far too long.”

Anne touched Emma’s shoulder.

She grasped Anne’s fingers and looked at the pad in her lap.

The face of Linton Bower smiled at her from eternity.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The inspiration for The Sculptress came from Gustave Flaubert’s seminal work of realist fiction, Madame Bovary. I was immediately taken with Emma Bovary’s story upon reading the book, which, like a few other classics, I read later in life.

Flaubert was born in Rouen, France, in 1821, and as he grew older developed friendships with many in the Parisian literary world. According to Francis Steegmuller, the translator of my favorite edition of the novel, Madame Bovary was “not only the most ‘realistic’ novel of its age . . . it was also the most ‘psychological. ’” My fascination with Emma Bovary drew from just that—the psychological. How this seemingly provincial woman could drive herself to madness was the question that enthralled me and kept me turning the pages. As dated as the novel may be by today’s social standards, its plot, building tensions, and depiction of unrequited love are, to me, as dramatic today as the day they were written.

Flaubert took five years to write the novel, which appeared serially in a Paris magazine beginning in 1856. The work was met with charges of “offenses against morality and religion” almost immediately. The author stood trial but was acquitted with a reprimand. Many years ago, in Boston, I read passages from Madame Bovary as part of Banned Books Week, an annual event that celebrates censored and banned books. The particular passage I selected still gives me chills to this day.

The last thing I will point out about the novel is a thought that the author had as he envisioned his words on provincial life: “One likes to imagine some, deep, great, intimate story being lived here amid these peaceful dwellings, a passion like a sickness, lasting until death.” (Quoted from the 1992 Modern Library introduction.) Flaubert’s words capture the theme of Madame Bovary perfectly—a woman driven by her own desires and wishes who had no choice, much like Emma Lewis Swan.

The Sculptress also was inspired by actual events during “The War to End All Wars.” The work of my heroine, Emma Lewis Swan, was modeled on the similar vocation of Boston sculptress Anna Coleman Ladd; however, the reader should refrain from making comparisons between the two. The life of Mrs. Ladd bears no resemblance to the fictional drama created for the title character of the novel. The other characters in the book, including Thomas Evan Swan and John Harvey, are likewise fictional characters and should not be substituted for human beings, dead or alive. This book, if I may be so bold, is the most romantic, the most “psychological” of all the historical novels I’ve written for Kensington. I hope I’ve succeeded in my task.

A number of sources were consulted during the writing of this book. They include, but are not limited to, primary source documents, books, and internet sites. In particular, I would like to thank Paddy Hartley, and his collaborators at Project Facade, for their generous help with the research of facial reconstruction techniques. Various processes were used during World War I and the technique used by Emma Swan in the novel is an amalgamation of several and not intended to be the actual process. I would direct the interested reader to the Project Facade archive on Paddy’s website, and these articles for more information about facial reconstruction and the making of facial masks:

• “Faces of War,” by Caroline Alexander, The Smithsonian, February, 2007

• “Anna Ladd’s Masks, Mending WWI’s Scars,” by Jack El-Hai, The History Channel Magazine, July/ August 2005

These internet sites were particularly helpful for reconstructing historical events:

• www.paddyhartley.com

• www.firstworldwar.com

• The National World War I Museum and Memorial at www.theworldwar.org. The museum, located at the Liberty Memorial in Kansas City, Missouri, is a treasure trove of war-related artifacts.

Nonfiction books and novels consulted, but not limited to:

• Memoirs of My Services in the World War, 1917–1918, by George C. Marshall, Houghton Mifflin, 1976

• US Doughboy, 1916–1919, by