Heather Dixon Quotes

Down with tyranny!' Bramble cried. 'Aristocracy! Autocracy! Monocracy! Other ocracy things! You are outnumbered, sir! Surrender!

— Heather Dixon

“He's around the twist,' said Azalea. 'Breaking all the windows? He's mad.'
'Ah, no,' said the King. 'It's only madness if you actually do it. If you want to break all the windows in the house and drown yourself in a bucket but don't actually do it, well, that's love.”

— Heather Dixon

“You forgot my birthday, too."
"And mine."
The girls looked miserable. The King opened his mouth, then shut it.
"Sir!" whined Lord Teddie. "You forgot my birthday, too!"
Bramble gave a surprised laugh, then slapped her hand over her mouth, as though shocked at letting it out. The tension broke. The girls laughed sheepishly, and Lord Teddie beamed. He probably did not have many ladies think him funny. In fact, he probably got slapped by a lot of them.”

— Heather Dixon

“What happened?" said Clover, wetting a cloth in the basin, and dabbing Azalea's face.
"She had a sort of fit," said the King. "I think her underthings may be laced too tightly."
All the girls, including Azalea, blushed brilliantly.
"Sir," said Eve. "You're not suppose to know about the U word!"
"Am I not? Forgive me.”

— Heather Dixon

“When I saw you at the graveyard, looking so white, I knew something was wrong. I knew it."
Azalea stared at him, the fire flickering highlights in his eyes.
"So ... I thought I should do something," he finished lamely.
"You saw everything?"
Mr. Bradford gave a half of a crooked smile. "I did knock."
"You didn't see Mr ... Mr.-"
"Mr. Keeper?" Mr. Bradford spat the name. "Oh yes, I saw Mr. Keeper. Rather hard not to. I saw him try to kiss you. Or what he said was a kiss. I want to snap his head off!"
Azalea had her hand over her mouth, shocked that someone as solemn and dignified as Mr. Bradford could have such venom. He took her hands, gently, and pushed up her sleeved, revealing her swollen wrists. His fringers traced the bruises.
"You stopped him," said Azalea. She bowed her head, shy. "You kept him from-from-"
"Ah, yes, my lady!" Mr. Bradford smiled a crooked smile in full. "His ponytail was simply begging to be yanked.”

— Heather Dixon

“What did Fairweller say? When you delivered the note?"
"Oh," said Clover, calming a little. "Well ... nothing, actually. I sort of ... accidentally ... tore it to pieces."
"Accidentally," Azalea echoed.
"And threw it into the fire," said Clover.
"Oh.”

— Heather Dixon

Honestly, we don't kick or bite or throw potatoes at all our guests."
A crooked smile touched Lord Bradford's lips.
"Your family has spirit," he said, taking his hat from Azalea. "I enjoyed the evening."
"Well, yes, you've just come from a war," said Azalea.

— Heather Dixon

A muffled voice startled them both.
"When are you going to kiss her?"
They pulled away. In the ballroom windows, noses and hands pressed against the glass, were the girls. They stood among the prickly rosebushes, beaming wicked little grins. Delphinium and Eve whispered and giggled to each other; Bramble wore a magnificent grin on her face and a spark of light in her yellow-green eyes.
Another figure stood among them. This one had his arms folded across his chest, stiff and firm and formal ...
... Yet he did not look displeased.

— Heather Dixon

If your sisters come to your wedding, my lady, it will only be to murder me."
Azalea slowly stood.
"Well at least they will be there.

— Heather Dixon

“She looked at him, his soft brown eyes and tall form, and contemplated raising herself on her toes and kissing his ear, or his cheek ...
Instead, impulsively before leaving, she reached up and smoothed his mussed hair.
Mr. Bradford beamed.”

— Heather Dixon

“Ah, Azalea," said the King. "He's not going to be the one proposing."
The springs in Azalea's feet went poioioing.
"Sorry?" she said.
"You outrank him, you know." The King shifted, uncomfortable. "It would be highly inappropriate for him to propose to you. The Delchastrian queen had to propose-"
"I will do no such thing!" said Azalea.”

— Heather Dixon

“It would impress him!"
"Do you think so?" Lord Howley brightened.
"Oh,yes,he loves it when people tell him how to run the country.”

— Heather Dixon

“From a memory deep inside her, so faint it only held sounds and slips of color, a tiny, three-year-old Azalea wailed, "Papa."
"Papa," said Azalea to the lifeless form of the King. The word was so forgein, it choked her throat. "Papa ... you can't leave us, Papa ... It would be very ... out of order-"
Bramble knelt opposite her, grasping the King's bandaged hand.
"She's-she's right, Papa," Bramble stuttered. "We have ... rules ... "
Clover fell to her knees and pressed her handkerchief to his chest. Blood soaked through.
"Papa," she whispered.
The girls knelt around the King, their skirts spead out like forlorn blossoms, swallowing , and whispering one word.
"Papa."
"Papa."
"Papa.”

— Heather Dixon

“I love you so much, my fingers hurt!”

— Heather Dixon

“He is writing a book," said the King, following them out into the sunny, crisp gardens. "About the gardens here. We have two of his books already. Library, north side, O. What say you, Miss Azalea? Does he pass that list of your sisters'?"
Azalea cocked her head. Was the king actually teasing her?
"He'll have to shave," she said, deciding to take his lead.
"And what," said the King, stroking his own close-trimmed beard, "is wrong with whiskers?"
Azalea laughed, surprised at the King's uncharacteristic funning.”

— Heather Dixon

“What a rotten shilling punter!" said Bramble, tearing her bread to bits. "I can't believe he stole our things! Especially the watch! We stole that watch first, fair and square!”

— Heather Dixon

“I can be agreeable," said Fairweller. "If the other party is."
"Oh,well," said Bramble. "There goes that, then.”

— Heather Dixon

“The King smoothed the blanket on Thackeray's back. He opened his mouth, and shut it. Then he opened it again, and after a moment, said, "You used to call me Papa, do you remember that?"
The question took Azalea back.
"No," she said.”

— Heather Dixon

“You once said you had studied at the university," said Eve shyly. "What did you stufy, please?"
Azalea blushed. It was all right for the girls to interrogate normal gentlemen, but this was the one she wanted to keep.
"Ah," said Mr. Bradford, coloring as well. "Politics, actually. Some philosophy, and sciences. But ... mostly politics, I'm afraid.”

— Heather Dixon

Lord Teddie?" she said. "Will you stay for tea?"
"Rather!" said the carpet.

— Heather Dixon

“The Harold Herald, alive with news of the war, even printed an extra edition the next day, and among the news of the front page, the girls discovered that Minister Fairweller had been wounded. Clover, so tenderhearted, cried.
"Oh,he's probably all right," said Bramble. "It would take a lot to kill him. Like garlic and a stake through the heart."
Clover still cried. That was Clover for you.”

— Heather Dixon

“I'm so sorry we've kept this for such a long time," she said, pulling the watch from her skirt pocket. She unfolded Mother's handkerchief from around it, and offered it to Lord Bradford cradled in her hands. "We shouldn't have taken it in the first place."
Lord Bradford's eyebrows rose at the offering, and he opened his mouth, then closed it. He lowered his eyes to the books in his hands, then back to Azalea, and he managed a smile.
"When we first met," he said, "ages ago, you gave me a candy stick. Just like you did now, with your hands like that. Do you remember?"
Azalea raised an eyebrow.
"It happened when my father had just died," he said, quietly. "You came to the graveyard, licking a candy stick. You saw me. You put the stick in my hands, folded my fingers over it, and kissed my fingertips."
"That must have been sticky," said Azalea.”

— Heather Dixon

What are you doing here? said Azalea, grasping in the
basket behind her for the butter knife. Her hand found a
teaspoon. It was better than nothing

— Heather Dixon

“Five minutes later, the girls stood at the open kitchen door, blinking in the brilliant overcast light. The smell of lilacs, roses, sweet peas, and honeysuckle mixed with the scent of crisp late summer leaves. None of them had been in the gradens for nine months, and the bright saturated greens, reds, and violets overwhelmed them. It reminded Azalea of Mother, beautiful and bright, thick with scents and excitement. And the King-he was like the palace behind them, all straights and grays, stiff and symmetrical and orderly.
"It's really allowed?" said Flora, her eyes alight at the colors.
"Allowed allowed?" said Goldenrod.
"For the last time," said the King, pushing them gently out the kitchen door and onto the path. "It is Royal Business! Go On. Get some color in your cheeks.”

— Heather Dixon

“What's kissing like?"
"Mmm-like dancing,actually." Bramble pushed her prridge to Ivy and grinned. "You know, the part after a spin, when the room turns about you. What do you think, Clover?"
Clover shook her golden head.
"I think it more..when the gentleman catches you in his arms, that warm feeling that makes your toes sort of curl."
Bramble's face twisted. "No..that's not right. Well, dash it, if we knew more dances-”

— Heather Dixon

Bramble had taken another pencil from Delphinium, and Azalea's napkin, and wrote something new.
You're afraid of the King. Admit it.
Azalea grimaced at her untouched food, burning in humiliation as Lord Bradford took the napkin and read it. This time, he looked to be discreetly writing something back beneath the table.
Fairweller blinked at the King for a moment, in which Lord Bradford handed Bramble her napkin. She opened it and turned a rosy pink.
My lady, it read,who isn't?
Bramble pursed her lips and kicked Lord Bradford beneath the table-hard. His face twitched befre regaining its solemn expression.Azalea buried her face in her hands.
"All we ask is for you to consider it. That is all," said Fairweller.
"Oh." Lord Bradford's voice was slightly strangled. "Yes. Thank you."
Bramble threw the pencil-smudged napkin onto her plate. "I'm done," she said. "May we go to our room now?

— Heather Dixon

His steward his here,too."
"Oh,look, the King's gone out to greet him."
"With a gun," said Bramble.
Everyone leaned forward.
"Pistols!" cried Clover. She fled the room.
"Clover-duels aren't-oh,hang," said Bramble. "She's going to do something rash. Well, at least we can see it from here."
Two seconds later, Clover streaked out the entrance hall doors, down the marble stairs, her skirts flying behind her.The gentlemen had a split moment to look up before Clover threw herself onto the King in a scatter of gravel, sobbing as she hung about his neck.
The window muffled their voices. Everyone leaned even farther forward.
Clover fell to her knees and kissed the hem of the King's coat.
"Oh,now,let's not go overboard," Bramble muttered.
Fairweller removed his coat and set it over Clover's shoulders; the King threw it off and put his own coat over her shoulders.

— Heather Dixon

“It is only glass, you know. Nothing fine or grand.Your Mother knew it, when she accepted it with my hand.And she knew I danced as well as a tree. She knew about the politics and duties and responsibilities of marrying into royalty. She knew all those ... unfortunate things. Things some people might even call ghastly.”

— Heather Dixon

“The sugarteeth aren't down here, let's face it," said Bramble. "They would have attacked one of us by now.They've probably run away.I'd bet a harold they've thrown themselves off the garden bridge to join their beastly comrades.”

— Heather Dixon

“One day, my lady." said Mr. Keeper, stepping aside and allowing her to join them, "I should hope I would be fortunate enough to see such a graceful, unearthly curtsy from you again.”

— Heather Dixon

“Miss Clover," said Minister Fairweller to the Viscount after a long moment, "is not here. She has gone to a speech with her father, in Werttemberg. I could set you up with a carriage, if you'd like."
The girls' mouths dropped open. Viscount Duquette did not see.
"Well!" he said,clicking his heels together. "It is nice to see that someone behaves like a gentleman around here!"
The girls found Clover about an hour later, hidinga mong the untrimmed unicorn and lion topiaries, weeping on a stone bench. They flocked to her, wrapped an extra shawl around her shoulders, and told her the story.
"Werttemberg, though," said Eve. That's two countries away!"
Clover wept and laughed at the same time.”

— Heather Dixon

“It's just a guess," said Bramble after a moment, "but I don't think he's in the mood to see us.”

— Heather Dixon

“The King had advertised the old magic tea set, but for some reason, no one wanted sugar teeth that could gouge their eyes out.”

— Heather Dixon

They had lost two weeks of dance lessons over that Great Rosebush and Snowball Scandal.

— Heather Dixon

A teakettle screamed inside Azalea, burning her fingers, making her throat tight and her head dizzy.

— Heather Dixon

I still have your handkerchief, from the Yuletide."
"Raspberries, do you really?"
He produced a crumpled, clean handkerchief, and gave it to Azalea. She tried to hand him the watch, but he wouldn't take it.
"It's still for ransom, is it not?" he said. "I'll collect it when I set the tower again."
Azalea smiled, warmth rising to her cheeks. "Well, it has been awfully useful. Thank you, Lord Bradford."
He mounted with ease, even with the books, and smiled a crooked smile.
"Mr. Bradford," he said sheepishly.
"Mr. Bradford," said Azalea. And now, her cheeks burned. It wasn't unpleasant.
"Thank you," he said, tipping his hat. "For the pleasant evening.

— Heather Dixon

“Keeper," Bramble said in a syrupy voice, grinning. "Have you met anyone so blasted handsome?"
"Hush," said Azalea through her teeth. "He can probably hear you!"
"And so dashing," said Bramble, though her tone was a touch lower.
"And so perfect."
"I've never seen anyone with such ... fingers," said Goldenrod.
Everyone paused.
"Well, yes, his fingers, too," said Bramble.”

— Heather Dixon

“How daintily the butterfly
Flits to the spider's lace
Entranced by glimm'ring silver strings
Entwined with glist'ning grace.
How craftily the spider speaks
And whispers, 'All is well,'
Caresses it with poison'd feet
And sucks it to a shell”

— Heather Dixon

“Your Most Exalted Majesty, Your Grace, ect., ect.:
I don't know what ruddy else I can offer. You won't have a fig to do with my lands or my money or anything, I suppose, of value to anyone else. I suppose that makes you a good father but it certainly makes things rum for me. I haven't anything else to offer, but a sincere heart, one that aches for Bramble, her sweet, plucky spirit, her smart whippish mouth, her heart, and her dear hand.
I'm in agony now, hoping that my steward will convince you. If not I think I'll break all the windows in the house and drown myself in a bucket.
A most sincere heart-
Lord Edward Albert Hemly Haftenravenscher, Esq.”

— Heather Dixon

“So suppose Azalea finds the sugar teeth after all," said Bramble, taking Azalea by the shoulders and spinning her. Azalea rolled her eyes but obliged, and let her feet turn beneath her. A lsight push, and Azalea spun to Delphinium.
"She breaks them," said Delphinium, catching Azalea and pushing her to Hollyhock in a spin, a ball with skirts.
"Snap!" said Hollyhock.
Azalea flinched. Hollyhock fumbled to spin her to Bramble again.
"And in a burst of fireworks, he emerges from the passage! Burst!”

— Heather Dixon

I sort of ... accidentally ... tore it to pieces.
And threw it in the fire.
Well, he was mine after all.

— Heather Dixon

Inside her chest, a warm, billowing, something swept through her, to the tips of her fingers, the bottoms of her feet, shining like a brilliant beam of light. It wasn't hot, boiling feeling of her temper, nor was it the cold wash of tingles that Swearing on Silver brought. It was deeper. It didn't just pour through her body, but penetrated her soul.

— Heather Dixon

“She wanted to give him toast. The sort that had melted butter and a bit of honey spread on top. It was a stupid thought, but there was something comforting about toast.”

— Heather Dixon

“Wait - Miss Bramble-"
"Don't call me that!" said Azalea.
Something, perhaps hurt, flickered through Mr. Bradford's soft eyes. "Princess Bramble," he said.”

— Heather Dixon

“His voice reminded her [Azalea] of rich, thick cream, the sort one could add to any recipe to make it taste better.”

— Heather Dixon

“All the girls joined in.
'I was thirteen last April and it rained on my birthday and I didn't even get to wear anything special -'
'We turned ten - just two months ago -'
'I usually get a book for my birthday - but - this year -'
'You forgot my birthday, too.'
'And mine.'
The girls looked miserable. The King opened his mouth, then shut it.
'Sir!' whined Lord Teddie. 'You forgot my birthday, too!'
Bramble gave a surprised laugh, then slapped her hand over her mouth, as though shocked at letting it out. The tension broke. The girls laughed sheepishly, and Lord Teddie beamed. He probably did not have many ladies think him funny.”

— Heather Dixon

“You'll be back within the hour?" she said. "For the opening dance?"
"Really, Azalea," said the King, putting on his stiff hat. "Is everything about dancing to you?"
"It was, actually, but Azalea decided now wasn't the best time to point that out.”

— Heather Dixon

Once again, Azalea stood in the midst of girls, the familiar chin wobbles and wet cheeks overcoming them. Jessamine curled up on the floor, her lacy pantelettes poking up in black ruffles, and began to wail in a tiny crystalline voice.
"I have a watch."
Azalea started, remembering Lord Bradford.

— Heather Dixon

“The girl inhaled sharply at this last bit, the word 'father'. They leaned into Azalea's nightgown as Mr. Pudding, fumbling with his great ring of keys, locked the ballroom door with a click-click. Seeing the younger girls start to tear up, he gave them his lamp and promised to send biscuits and tea to their room, nearly crying himself. But he did not unlock the ballroom.”

— Heather Dixon

“When
when I dance," she said quietly. "When I dance, I
I forget all the
the bad things."
"I
I only remember the good things. That is the b-best thing about d-dancing.”

— Heather Dixon