I think that one of the things that cut against the emotional impact of everything you're saying here (even though to some degree I agree with you) was Pip's incredibly persistent good naturedness. He seems undamaged by his negative experiences, and at the end, when he's in bed at Charlotte's home, he's cheerful and completely understanding, it seems. Not that I expected him to cry and wail and hate Charlotte, but the way he talks about the workhouse as a bad dream, the way he seems merely amused at Charlotte's emotional reaction to his homecoming, the very fact that this woman is his mother — all of it seemed almost the opposite emotionally of the suffering Charlotte underwent. Not that I wanted her to feel more guilty — absolutely not. But it just seemed like Pip wasn't really “worse for the wearâ€? of everything he endured, and everything that I would think he might feel emotionally at the revelation of Charlotte's true identity, and I found myself sort of annoyed at what seemed a lack of depth in Pip's character and his relationship with Charlotte in comparison to what Charlotte suffers and the incredibly serious nature of what Charlotte did and the incredible price one would expect *everyone* to pay for that. A little more Dickens and a little less Wilde, I guess, is what I expected there.

I understand what you are saying, but I didn’t feel a need to see the trauma Pip suffered reflected more significantly in his character, because I felt that his new situation had not entirely sunk in for him yet when the book ended.

I thought he was a brave kid who did his best to roll with the punches and accept his situation, but I also felt that his ability to do so was based partly on having the support that Darius had given him, and partly on the fact that he’d never expected his mother to turn up and claim him.

He had a tough life, yes, but so did the people that he’d spent his childhood around. To have his mother turn out to be alive and take him to a life of relative luxury must have been a dream come true to a child like Pip. At the point that it happened, he must have felt like he’d won some cosmic lottery.

So my opinion is that it wouldn’t make sense to have him react with anger or hurt at that point. He had a lot to be happy about, and every reason to want to start out on a good foot with Charlotte and Darius. That doesn’t mean he won’t ever feel more complicated emotions, perhaps even some kind of post traumatic stuff, but I think Chase was right to delay that reaction.

Any more focus on Pip’s relationship to Charlotte, and the book probably would have become something like historical women’s fiction. But beyond that, I think it’s simply psychologically accurate for Pip to feel happy at the end of the book, and I didn’t take that to mean that it was the end of his story or all he would ever feel. I think he paid a high price for Charlotte’s decision, as did Charlotte herself, and I think that will always be with them.

I didn't think Mr. Impossible was that emotional. Charming yes; emotional, maybe somewhat, but not very.

I’ve actually been kind of skimming back through it since this discussion, and I am finding it even better for me than it was the first time around. I love the scene where Rupert comes to Daphne’s cabin and tells her how much he misses her, and they make love to the sounds of the love song that’s interspersed throughout the scene. And I love Rupert’s speech to Daphne at the end where he tells her how much he loved it when she bargained for him as if he were an old rug, admitting his feelings for the first time. Or when he went into her cabin and smelled all of her things when she was missing because he loved that “goddess scent” of her. Yes it’s a charming book, and blithely humorous, too, but I also found it unexpectedly touching without being manipulatively so (not that I’m saying NQAL was manipulative — just that I found MI more emotional than I expected to).

Additionally, no matter what happiness they find, Charlotte will never be able to get back the ten years of Pip's life that she lost, or change his workhouse experiences and the other things he suffered, so to me, this was a more poignant book, and not just “superficiallyâ€? so. I thought it was a brave book, to take on something like this, and I also liked the way Chase took the trope of the selfless heroine who sacrficies herself for her family and showed that self-sacrifice, even at it's most well-meaning, can sometimes be destructive.

I think that one of the things that cut against the emotional impact of everything you’re saying here (even though to some degree I agree with you) was Pip’s incredibly persistent good naturedness. He seems undamaged by his negative experiences, and at the end, when he’s in bed at Charlotte’s home, he’s cheerful and completely understanding, it seems. Not that I expected him to cry and wail and hate Charlotte, but the way he talks about the workhouse as a bad dream, the way he seems merely amused at Charlotte’s emotional reaction to his homecoming, the very fact that this woman is his mother — all of it seemed almost the opposite emotionally of the suffering Charlotte underwent. Not that I wanted her to feel more guilty — absolutely not. But it just seemed like Pip wasn’t really “worse for the wear” of everything he endured, and everything that I would think he might feel emotionally at the revelation of Charlotte’s true identity, and I found myself sort of annoyed at what seemed a lack of depth in Pip’s character and his relationship with Charlotte in comparison to what Charlotte suffers and the incredibly serious nature of what Charlotte did and the incredible price one would expect *everyone* to pay for that. A little more Dickens and a little less Wilde, I guess, is what I expected there.

OTOH, I agree with you that what Chase did in crafting Charlotte’s character was a wonderful break with Romancelandia historical heroines, and overall, I really loved Charlotte as a heroine. By no means did I find NQAL a bad or inferior book; it just wasn’t my favorite of the series, and for some reason, it didn’t hit me with the emotional impact I anticipated from the first scene. Who knows why, because I certainly wanted to love it as much as you did.

What I wonder is that since Chase is purportedly writing Olivia and Peregrine's story (this is what I hear, but I haven't checked anywhere to see if it's true)

From what I read on her site, she is not writing it now, but planning to write it eventually.

that she doesn't want to create a sense of familial connection between the two of them too closely. So the fact that Olivia refers to “Aunt Daphne and Uncle Rupertâ€? and “Uncle Dariusâ€? in her final letter to Benedict might make it seem strange to have her pair up romantically with someone we also associate with “Uncle Darius.â€?

That’s very possible, but this point didn’t bother me at all.

What I meant there was that in this series Chase tends to pair a more emotional character with a more “logicalâ€? one (one of the thematic connections between the books), and Alistair and Charlotte are the “romanticsâ€? in their respective books (and both suffered from a form of melancholia), with Mirabel and Darius being more “rationalâ€? — of course Chase mixes all that up, which is part of the fun, especially in watching the less emotional character struggle with his or her feelings (I still chuckle thinking about how Rupert had to have Miles tell him he was in love with Daphne) — but I loved, actually, that it wasn't always the women who started off as the more emotional/romantic partner.

Ah, I see what you are saying now. But if all the books have an emotional partner and purportedly logical partner, how does this really make NQAL any more similiar to Miss Wonderful than to the other two books? I still don’t see much similarity between Alistair and Charlotte since their painful pasts are vastly different (and Charlotte’s is more wrenching for me).

SPOILERS BELOW >>>>>>>>>

If Lizzie were that perceptive, and if she could broach the subject with Charlotte over those ten years, then I would think she would understand how Charlotte was afraid of her father's disappointment and had only in her mind to live up to his expectations. She could understand Charlotte's fears, even if she could not assuage them. I could see her encouraging Charlotte to tell her father, and not telling him herself because she made a promise to Charlotte. I could see Charlotte resisting and Lizzie worrying about it herself but standing back and perhaps letting things go on, hoping that Charlotte would eventually “come to her sensesâ€? so to speak. Had I been able to see that kind of awareness from Lizzie, it might have given me more to go on in accepting that Charlotte made so many changes in such a short period of time. In other words, Lizzie could have provided some backstory and some context that might have made that rapid shift less troubling to me.

I think that it would have been very painful to Charlotte to have Lizzie asking her to consider telling her father the truth over and over. My reading is that in that case, Charlotte would have broken down and told her father the truth much sooner. Or if not, she would have enjoined Lizzie never to bring it up again. Charlotte’s feelings about giving up her child were so raw, that I don’t see how she could have sustained a decade of Lizzie bringing it up without fraying (as she did when Pip turned up) much sooner.

I don't know what the heck I was thinking when I wrote that sentence, because I actually do think both LP and MI are very emotional books.

I didn’t think Mr. Impossible was that emotional. Charming yes; emotional, maybe somewhat, but not very.

What I was trying to say is that there a much greater sense of distance between the narrative voice of MW and the emotional content — more distance than in the other books. And I guess I see MW and NQAL as the “darkerâ€? of the four books, but that IMO the darkness of MW isn't as superficially apparent, perhaps because we are not in on the “secretâ€? of the past trauma right away in MW as we are in NQAL.

My emotional response to MW wasn’t as strong, and I think not being in on the trauma was only one of the reasons why. Partly it’s that a woman’s separation from her child is something that seems more painful to me, partly it’s that Charlotte’s grief had lasted a whole decade, partly it’s that she had no one she could share her experiences with, but also, I think that Chase did an even better job of balancing humor and sadness in this book.

Additionally, no matter what happiness they find, Charlotte will never be able to get back the ten years of Pip’s life that she lost, or change his workhouse experiences and the other things he suffered, so to me, this was a more poignant book, and not just “superficially” so. I thought it was a brave book, to take on something like this, and I also liked the way Chase took the trope of the selfless heroine who sacrficies herself for her family and showed that self-sacrifice, even at it’s most well-meaning, can sometimes be destructive.

herefore I don't have the sense that Darius had that much opportunity to get to know Peregrine.

What I wonder is that since Chase is purportedly writing Olivia and Peregrine’s story (this is what I hear, but I haven’t checked anywhere to see if it’s true) that she doesn’t want to create a sense of familial connection between the two of them too closely. So the fact that Olivia refers to “Aunt Daphne and Uncle Rupert” and “Uncle Darius” in her final letter to Benedict might make it seem strange to have her pair up romantically with someone we also associate with “Uncle Darius.”

That superficial similarity didn't bother me. As for a similarity between Alistair and Charlotte, I think it's a stretch to say that they are similar just because both characters have suffered through traumatic events that left marks on them. That seems to me to characterize half the human race.

What I meant there was that in this series Chase tends to pair a more emotional character with a more “logical” one (one of the thematic connections between the books), and Alistair and Charlotte are the “romantics” in their respective books (and both suffered from a form of melancholia), with Mirabel and Darius being more “rational” — of course Chase mixes all that up, which is part of the fun, especially in watching the less emotional character struggle with his or her feelings (I still chuckle thinking about how Rupert had to have Miles tell him he was in love with Daphne) — but I loved, actually, that it wasn’t always the women who started off as the more emotional/romantic partner.

For Lizzie to encourage Charlotte to keep the secret would have been selfish and unfair, don't you think?

I’m not sure it would have had to proceed that way. If Lizzie were that perceptive, and if she could broach the subject with Charlotte over those ten years, then I would think she would understand how Charlotte was afraid of her father’s disappointment and had only in her mind to live up to his expectations. She could understand Charlotte’s fears, even if she could not assuage them. I could see her encouraging Charlotte to tell her father, and not telling him herself because she made a promise to Charlotte. I could see Charlotte resisting and Lizzie worrying about it herself but standing back and perhaps letting things go on, hoping that Charlotte would eventually “come to her senses” so to speak. Had I been able to see that kind of awareness from Lizzie, it might have given me more to go on in accepting that Charlotte made so many changes in such a short period of time. In other words, Lizzie could have provided some backstory and some context that might have made that rapid shift less troubling to me.

But not “far, far moreâ€?; at least, not for me.

I don’t know what the heck I was thinking when I wrote that sentence, because I actually do think both LP and MI are very emotional books. What I was trying to say is that there a much greater sense of distance between the narrative voice of MW and the emotional content — more distance than in the other books. And I guess I see MW and NQAL as the “darker” of the four books, but that IMO the darkness of MW isn’t as superficially apparent, perhaps because we are not in on the “secret” of the past trauma right away in MW as we are in NQAL.

Not by blood, but what is the nature of their relationship by marriage (especially when Benedict's first wife was alive)? Since Peregrine is so close to Benedict, and so present in the family, it seems – judging from my own extended family experience — that the other Carsington brothers would have an avuncular relationship to Peregrine. So what am I missing here? I have several relatives I'm only related to by marriage but whom I refer to as, say, my cousins (particularly those with whom I'm relatively close).

It’s been a while since I read NQAL, so I don’t remember how soon after the events of Lord Perfect NQAL taks place. But I had thought (if I’m not misremembering) that Peregrine had only been under Benedict’s care briefly before the beginning of Lord Perfect, and then he was sent to Egypt with Rupert and Daphne at the end of that book, so as to be kept away from Olivia. Therefore I don’t have the sense that Darius had that much opportunity to get to know Peregrine.

I agree that the nature of Charlotte's history makes this book more openly emotional and perhaps closer to us as women (I can relate to Charlotte's situation more than Alistair's PTSD, for example), but I do really think that MW is a very emotional book. Except that much of the emotion is disguised by Alistair's dry sense of humor and his own attempts to deflect attention away from his trauma. And as for Mirabel's father, the other source of emotional turmoil in the book, there's a certain distancing of his melancholia via Mirabel's frustration, too, I guess. So I agree that the narration sometimes acts to contain the emotion in the book, but I felt there was a great deal running just beneath the surface in that book, far, far more than in Lord Perfect, for example, and Mr. Impossible. So my lasting impression of the book is of strong emotion dressed in polite and witty prose.

I will agree that there was more emotion under the surface in Miss Wonderful than in Mr. Impossible, and perhaps even in Lord Perfect (though I felt a fair amount of emotion under the surface in that book). But not “far, far more”; at least, not for me. I don’t think I cried at all while reading any of those three books, though, whereas when I read NQAL I ran through several tissues, and every time I thought I was done crying, I ended up needing another one.

Emotionally, I think Alistair is more Charlotte's match, because he's the traumatized one of the pair, as is Charlotte. But in other ways, perhaps more superficial ways, Mirabel and Charlotte echoed one another to me (especially in the conscious facility both had in deterring potential suitors).

That superficial similarity didn’t bother me. As for a similarity between Alistair and Charlotte, I think it’s a stretch to say that they are similar just because both characters have suffered through traumatic events that left marks on them. That seems to me to characterize half the human race.

SPOILERS BELOW >>>>>>>>

About Chase deliberately misleading us to view him the antagonist as a villain at first:

I agree, and I liked that, because it made me think about my own contemporary views and the various things I take for granted.

While I liked the overall effect of being misled, when I went back to reread those sections that created that impression, I was less satisfied with them because it felt just a little bit manipulative to me.

I think we’ll just have to disagree about Charlotte. I was completely convinced by her behavior. Regarding Darius, I didn’t feel that he got blander as the book progressed, just that he showed other facets of himself, aspects of his personality he hadn’t been in touch with until he needed to rise to the occasion.

I read Lord Hargate's comments more as a counter to Charlotte's own lack of confidence in her moral character, but I totally understand what you're saying here.

I suspected they were intended as you read them, not as commentary on Darius’s previous lovers, but I couldn’t help my interpretation, and it cast a slight shadow on the book for me. Though I’ll repeat that I adored this book overall. It might have been an A rather than an A- if not for some of these nitpicks that I’m bringing up here.

“Most importantly, Chase really made me feel how Charlotte was fraying emotionally in response to Pip's being there.”

I understood this intellectually, but I just didn't feel it as strongly or clearly as you did, Janine. Or more accurately, I didn't feel the struggle it seemed Charlotte would have between reaffirming her commitment to remain unattached and her growing attachment to Darius.

Oh my, that was one of the most powerful things in the book for me, Charlotte’s emotional fraying. I thought she didn’t struggle to reaffirm her commitment to remain unattached exactly because she was coming apart and couldn’t hold it together any longer. Pip’s presence in her vicinity brought her grief to the surface and that was why she couldn’t resist the intimacy, and the distraction, that Darius offered. It was exactly what she needed most emotionally.

Also, once they’d made love, and she confessed she wasn’t a virgin, the reasons for remaining unattached crumbled, because Darius didn’t reject her as she had feared a husband would. It was the discovery of her missing virginity and of what she’d done that she’d always feared, and since it didn’t make Darius love her any less, or judge her, I wouldn’t expect her to want to remain unattached after that.

What's strange about the Lizzie situation to me is that IMO it would not have cost Chase anything in the relationship she set up between Lizzie and Charlotte. If anything, it would have solidified their bond, IMO.

How so? My feeling was that Chase wanted Lizzie to be perceptive and sensitive enough to realize that Charlotte was pregnant and help her hide that fact. But it became a problem for the book because had Lizzie also been sensitive to Charlotte’s grieving and trauma, the answer would have been for Lizzie to encourage Charlotte to reveal her secret to her father much sooner and to trust a suitor with the truth. For Lizzie to encourage Charlotte to keep the secret would have been selfish and unfair, don’t you think?

The deal with Geoffrey (I'm surprised you have both forgotten) is that he has always been married. In fact, originally, Chase intended this series to be a trilogy about the three youngest Carsington brothers. Benedict was not supposed to get a book, but according to Chase, he showed up at the end of Mr. Impossible widowed, and that was when she realized she had to write a book about him, too.

Ah, yes, that’s right. For some reason I got that anecdote mixed up with the Black Dagger Brotherhood death of Wellsie thing, I think, forgetting that it was Benedict and not Geoffrey who was widowed sometime after the first book.

If I'm not mistaken, Peregrine is Benedict's nephew by marriage (through Benedict's first wife). Therefore he is not Darius's nephew.

Not by blood, but what is the nature of their relationship by marriage (especially when Benedict’s first wife was alive)? Since Peregrine is so close to Benedict, and so present in the family, it seems – judging from my own extended family experience — that the other Carsington brothers would have an avuncular relationship to Peregrine. So what am I missing here? I have several relatives I’m only related to by marriage but whom I refer to as, say, my cousins (particularly those with whom I’m relatively close).

I liked Miss Wonderful quite a bit, but I thought it was a more cerebral book, nothing as heart-wrenching as this one.

I agree that the nature of Charlotte’s history makes this book more openly emotional and perhaps closer to us as women (I can relate to Charlotte’s situation more than Alistair’s PTSD, for example), but I do really think that MW is a very emotional book. Except that much of the emotion is disguised by Alistair’s dry sense of humor and his own attempts to deflect attention away from his trauma. And as for Mirabel’s father, the other source of emotional turmoil in the book, there’s a certain distancing of his melancholia via Mirabel’s frustration, too, I guess. So I agree that the narration sometimes acts to contain the emotion in the book, but I felt there was a great deal running just beneath the surface in that book, far, far more than in Lord Perfect, for example, and Mr. Impossible. So my lasting impression of the book is of strong emotion dressed in polite and witty prose.

I don't see much similarity between Mirabel and Charlotte.

Emotionally, I think Alistair is more Charlotte’s match, because he’s the traumatized one of the pair, as is Charlotte. But in other ways, perhaps more superficial ways, Mirabel and Charlotte echoed one another to me (especially in the conscious facility both had in deterring potential suitors).

though here and there I felt that Chase was deliberately misleading me to view him as a villain at first.

I agree, and I liked that, because it made me think about my own contemporary views and the various things I take for granted.

SPOILERS TO FOLLOW>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This didn't bother me nearly as much as it did you and Jayne. People, in my experience, do irrational things for love, or even just for sex. . . . Why is what Charlotte did so unrealistic?

She may not be unrealistic in comparison to the irrational ways real human beings act, but in the context of a book, I tend to be unpersuaded by some of those same “irrational” choices. And my issues with Charlotte started before she actually made love with Darius, and they were mostly about timing. The best I can tell, it’s six days between the time Darius and Charlotte meet to their first kiss, with Darius staying away from Beechwood for much of the time in between. I agree with you about the whole “bolt of lightning” thing for Darius, and he is certainly not averse to acting on his sexual attraction, no matter how unwise (I love the scene where his internal voice yells “Trap! Trap! … Run away!”), but Charlotte . . . as much as I can agree with all the things I think Chase was going for and you appreciated, I wasn’t sold. And worse, that wonderful Darius, the one who came up with these great phrases like “Vipera-bankrupt-me-remodeling-my-house-icus” got blander to me the more comfortable with his feelings he got (whereas Rupert, in MI, got more interesting, IMO).

What did bother me a bit was what I mentioned in my review, that I would have liked the knight-in-shining-armor Darius to reflect a little bit on his past of raking. It would have lessened the humor of his transformation, and I think that's why Chase didn't have him do it, but I was a little troubled by Lord Hargate's statement at the end that Charlotte was “a good girl,â€? because I read an implication there that Darius's previous conquests were not good girls, and perhaps did not deserve the same kind of respect.

Good points, Janine. I read Lord Hargate’s comments more as a counter to Charlotte’s own lack of confidence in her moral character, but I totally understand what you’re saying here. And as for Darius, yes, some reflection — from the man who THINKS about EVERYTHING — would have been nice. But now that I think about it, the puzzles that interested him were always someone else’s, not his own, which is interesting (although unfortunately not in the best way for me).

Most importantly, Chase really made me feel how Charlotte was fraying emotionally in response to Pip's being there.

I understood this intellectually, but I just didn’t feel it as strongly or clearly as you did, Janine. Or more accurately, I didn’t feel the struggle it seemed Charlotte would have between reaffirming her commitment to remain unattached and her growing attachment to Darius.

Actually that was me who had that question.

Oops, sorry Janine, and sorry to Jayne, too, for referring to her as the wrong Ja(y)ne.

What’s strange about the Lizzie situation to me is that IMO it would not have cost Chase anything in the relationship she set up between Lizzie and Charlotte. If anything, it would have solidified their bond, IMO.

Thinking a bit more about it, as much as I loved Charlotte by herself, I found her pairing with Darius less engaging than I expected to. He, especially, proceeds from a rather interesting character — a man who cares nothing for the women he beds, which is a certain kind of disrespect, although distinct from that of the book's antagonist — to a paragon of respect and kindness within days. I know all about True Love transforming people, but Charlotte and Darius — who had spent their entire adult lives cultivating caution and distance — basically jumped from one of those really high cliffs within days of knowing each other. Which seemed precipitous to me, in every sense of the word, complete with falling somewhat flat.

Part of the problem, I think, is that the wounded Charlotte really needed a knight in shining armor type, because she goes through so much emotionally that we need to know she can count on Darius emotionally. But in creating that comfort for Charlotte and the reader, IMO Chase ended up pushing the characters forward more quickly than their story — both as individuals and as a couple — deserved. And so as the love story sped up, my enthusiasm slowed.

I felt that Chase was going for something humorous with Darius’s character, a hit-by-a-lightning-bolt effect. Perhaps for this reason, his quick transformation didn’t bother me as much as it might have, even though I recognized it as a bit unrealistic. I didn’t think Chase was trying for realism, but was speeding up the process for this comic effect. And since I really liked the marriage of comedy and tragedy, I can’t complain too much over this.

What did bother me a bit was what I mentioned in my review, that I would have liked the knight-in-shining-armor Darius to reflect a little bit on his past of raking. It would have lessened the humor of his transformation, and I think that’s why Chase didn’t have him do it, but I was a little troubled by Lord Hargate’s statement at the end that Charlotte was “a good girl,” because I read an implication there that Darius’s previous conquests were not good girls, and perhaps did not deserve the same kind of respect.

I want to add that the reason the ending did not bother me as it did Jayne was that I never thought Chase was trying to imply that Darius and Charlotte would always be accepted by society. Yes, they got some people to show up at the wedding, but I didn’t think that this meant they wouldn’t have a lot of difficulties ahead. But I like the difficulties. They make me believe in the happiness more, actually.

And before I forget, what IS the deal with Geoffrey, because I had the same question and thought perhaps I missed something from a previous book.

The deal with Geoffrey (I’m surprised you have both forgotten) is that he has always been married. In fact, originally, Chase intended this series to be a trilogy about the three youngest Carsington brothers. Benedict was not supposed to get a book, but according to Chase, he showed up at the end of Mr. Impossible widowed, and that was when she realized she had to write a book about him, too.

Also, I needed a moment when Darius referred to Peregrine as Benedict's nephew, or rather at Charlotte's lack of confusion about that (because in that case, wouldn't he be Darius's nephew, too?).

If I’m not mistaken, Peregrine is Benedict’s nephew by marriage (through Benedict’s first wife). Therefore he is not Darius’s nephew.

Anyway, while I loved Charlotte and thought the opening scene of the novel one of the most touching I have read in the genre, the book ultimately left me less enraptured than I wanted it too, probably because I felt it was Miss Wonderful, new and improved

That is interesting, because I was relatively unmoved by the opening scene. For me the book’s emotional impact grew very gradually but by the end, I was an emotional mess (something that never happened to me with Miss Wonderful). I liked Miss Wonderful quite a bit, but I thought it was a more cerebral book, nothing as heart-wrenching as this one.

I don’t see much similarity between Mirabel and Charlotte. Partly that’s because I think loss of a child (even to adoption) is something far more monumental than anything Mirabel had to contend with. Partly because the two women seem like very different personalities to me. I agree with you that Charlotte is the best heroine in this series, though. (My favorite hero is probably Alisdair, but it’s tough to pick).

Things I loved: that Darius and Charlotte could be truly rude to one another

I loved that too. I also agree about the antagonist, though here and there I felt that Chase was deliberately misleading me to view him as a villain at first.

What I didn't love: the way Charlotte didn't seem worried about the consequences of her affair with Darius after what happened before.

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This didn’t bother me nearly as much as it did you and Jayne. People, in my experience, do irrational things for love, or even just for sex. President Clinton and Monica Lewinsky in the oval office, for example! Think of the number of people who destroy their families for an affair, or who have sex in airplane bathrooms, or who don’t protect themselves from AIDS.

Why is what Charlotte did so unrealistic? I felt that Chase set up her decision to sleep with Darius perfectly, having Charlotte read the mad lady’s writings and realize she was in danger of ending up just as crazy if she didn’t reach out to another human being. Moreover, afterward Darius let her know he wanted to marry her. Most importantly, Chase really made me feel how Charlotte was fraying emotionally in response to Pip’s being there. She had also repressed any sexual and romantic feelings in herself for so long that in Darius’s presence she could no longer to be that “good girl” who never displeased anyone anymore. I thought Chase did a masterly job of showing all of this.

Why did Lizzie allow her youngest son to be named Georgie, when that was so close to Geordie (given name also George) — that echoes Jane's question about Lizzie's sensitivity, which I also had,

Actually that was me who had that question. I agree with you there; I thought it was a contrivance because Chase did not want there to be any villains. If Lizzie had suppressed her sensitivity because she feared her husband’s discovery of what she’d done, it would have been more realistic to me.

Thinking a bit more about it, as much as I loved Charlotte by herself, I found her pairing with Darius less engaging than I expected to. He, especially, proceeds from a rather interesting character — a man who cares nothing for the women he beds, which is a certain kind of disrespect, although distinct from that of the book’s antagonist — to a paragon of respect and kindness within days. I know all about True Love transforming people, but Charlotte and Darius — who had spent their entire adult lives cultivating caution and distance — basically jumped from one of those really high cliffs within days of knowing each other. Which seemed precipitous to me, in every sense of the word, complete with falling somewhat flat.

Part of the problem, I think, is that the wounded Charlotte really needed a knight in shining armor type, because she goes through so much emotionally that we need to know she can count on Darius emotionally. But in creating that comfort for Charlotte and the reader, IMO Chase ended up pushing the characters forward more quickly than their story — both as individuals and as a couple — deserved. And so as the love story sped up, my enthusiasm slowed.

Maybe now I’ll go back and tackle the older books (TLD through TLH) again.