Brighter Than The Sun Julia Quinn For Auntie Susan— Thank you. —Miss Julie And for Paul, even though he just doesn' Eleanor Lyndon was minding her own business when Charles Wycombe, Earl of Billington, fell— quite literally—into her life. Print and download in PDF or MIDI Brighter Than The Sun. Made by mabdb. Brighter Than the Sun - dokument [*.pdf] Begin Reading Table of Contents About The closer I get, the brighter it becomes until, just when I think I'll never see.
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Later those who worked with him called him a saint. This was not only because of Franck's great kindness of heart but also because of his almost religious devotion to physics. He would tell his pupils that only one who was entirely absorbed by physics and actually dreamed about it could hope for enlightenment. He spoke of his own inspirations in the language of a medieval mystic. In almost every age a certain sphere of human reflection and creative activity exercises a peculiar fascination for gifted minds.
In others they apply themselves to painting or music, theology or philosophy. Suddenly, no one knows how it happens, the most alert spirits perceive where new ground has recently been broken and press forward eagerly to become, not only its heirs, but its founders and masters. Atomic physics exercised this magnetic power in the years after the First World War.
It was taken up by the philosophically talented, by men with artistic gifts, by politically minded young men who were repelled by the confusion of day-to-day politics, and by adventurous spirits who could find no more to conquer in a world whose most distant continents had been explored.
Disclosures were still possible in the study of the most invisible and microscopic of all phenomena. Here one might come upon traces of new laws, and might experience the peculiar delight, mingled with fear, of having thought something which no one had yet thought, of having seen something which no one had yet seen. Since there was so much that was new and uncertain in the domain of atomic research, teachers and pupils drew closer together than in other disciplines.
Experience and knowledge were worth little. Old and young became comrades on this journey into the interior of matter. Both alike took pride in their common conquest of fragments of knowledge. Both showed equal modesty and bewilderment before the impenetrable. James Franck, who already held the Nobel prize for physics, could turn from the blackboard on which he had lost his way in a difficult calculation and inquire of one of his students, 'Perhaps you can see the next step?
They kept their pupils posted on their private correspondence where unsolved problems were discussed with their foreign colleagues, and encouraged their youthful collaborators to seek for explanations which their elders had been denied.
A highlight of every week of the term was the 'Seminar on Matter' conducted in Room of the Institute by Born, Franck, and Hilbert, gratis et privatissime. It became almost a tradition for Hilbert to open the proceedings with a pretence of innocence: 'Well, now, gentlemen, I'd just like you to tell me, what exactly is an atom? The problem was tackled afresh every time, and every time they searched for a different solution.
But whenever any of the young geniuses sought refuge on the esoteric heights of complicated mathematical explanations, Hilbert would interrupt him in broadest East Prussian: 'I just can't understand you, young man. Now tell me over again, will you? These debates were concerned more and more with the most basic problems of epistemology. Had the discoveries of atomic physics abolished the duality between the human observer and the world observed? Was there no longer any real distinction between subject and object?
Could two mutually exclusive propositions on the same topic both be regarded as correct from a loftier standpoint? Would one be justified in abandoning the view that the foundation of physics is the close connexion of cause and effect? But in that case could there ever be any such thing as laws of Nature?
Could any reliable scientific forecasts ever be made? Questions, questions, and still more questions. They could be discussed without end and everyone had something to say about them. In the winter semester of a slender, rather delicate looking American student distinguished himself, even among such highly talented people as these. He was often able to improvise on the spur of the moment entire dissertations, so that hardly anyone else had a chance to speak.
At first the new boy was listened to with fascination. But after a time his excessive garrulity and eloquence began to cause irritation and possibly also envy among a number of his companions. They submitted a written petition to one of the professors suggesting that a check might be put on the Wunderkind. In a little less than twenty years he was to become world famous: J.
Robert Oppenheimer, who was introduced to the public for the first time by the newspapers of August as the 'father of the atom bomb'. Oppenheimer was one of the many young Americans who came to the Old World in those years to study physics. They sometimes called themselves 'Knights of Columbus in reverse', for they travelled in the opposite direction to that taken by Columbus and those who accompanied him.
They, too, were in search of a 'new continent'.
They returned from it to their own country, where 'old-fashioned physics' was still being taught, bringing back incredible information and fabulous discoveries which, like the gold procured by the Spanish seafarers of the sixteenth century, were to prove of great but troublesome profit to their native land. Almost all these young Americans came to Europe richly endowed with travelling scholarships. They were joined by some older hands, teachers who were in the habit of spending their sabbatical year - twelve months of private study on full pay awarded by tradition every seven years - as learners, exchanging ideas with their European colleagues.
These scientific tourists from the other side of the Atlantic brought foreign currency into the university towns of Europe, impoverished by the war. Further capital in the shape of dollars often followed them, for the American university men were frequently successful in pleading the cause of their temporary European alma mater and in obtaining funds from philanthropic organizations.
The impoverished German scientific institutes in particular, which perpetually complained of lack of money, benefited very much from this American assistance. What would Privy Councillor Sommerfeld at Munich have done without the occasional improvement in his scanty resources provided by the Rockefeller Foundation? Whenever Wickliff Rose, the distributor of funds endowed by the oil magnate, travelled in Europe, the universities received him like a despot. On the size of his cheque depended the number of research programmes which could be continued during the ensuing year and the number of young research workers who could be given scholarships.
The American mathematicians and physicists were particularly fond of Gottingen. Before the First World War Charles Michelson had worked there for a term as visiting professor, and Millikan and Langmuir, the grand old men of American physics and chemistry, had studied at Gottingen. In the s there were often a dozen or more Americans en- rolled in the faculty of natural science at the Georgia Augusta.
They brought with them to Gottingen a little of the unburdened atmosphere of the American campus. Their annual Thanksgiving dinners, the most memorable presided over by K. Compton in , were universally popular. The Americans showed their German colleagues how to eat turkey and sweet corn and learned in turn to drink beer, to sing and to hike. Nearly all the Americans who became well known later on for the development of atomic energy had been at Gottingen at various times between and They included Condon, who complained in lively fashion of the lack of comfort in the Gottingen lodgings; the lightningbrained Norbert Wiener; Erode, always deep in thought; the modest Richtmyer; the cheerful Pauling - one of Sommerfeld's pupils, who often came over from Munich; and the amazing' Oppie ', who managed to pursue in Gottingen not only his physical studies but also his philosophical, philological, and literary hobbies.
He was particularly deep in Dante's Inferno and in long evening walks along the railway tracks leading from the freight station would discuss with colleagues the reason why Dante had located the eternal quest in hell instead of in paradise. One evening Paul Dirac, who was usually so silent, took Oppenheimer aside and gently reproached him.
How on earth can you do two such things at once? In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in the case of poetry it's the exact opposite! The villa belonged to a medical man, Dr Cario, whose son Gunther was preparing for a brilliant future as a physicist while acting as one of Franck's assistants.
It was a usual practice for Gottingen families of good social position to take in students as 'paying guests'. They brought the outside world into the provincial parlour and received in return a measure of domestic security which they smiled at first but soon came to value and look track on with longing. Between those who leased the rooms and those who rented them often grew long-standing friend- ship and occasionally marriage.
A surprising number of the wives of professors on the five continents come from little Gottingen. From these families the foreign students often learned German very quickly. They frequently even wrote articles in German for scientific periodicals during the period of their studies.
In conversation, however, they made amusing mistakes. The young English astrophysicist Robertson wanted one day to check the exact weight of a letter he was going to send abroad. He burst into a shop and breathlessly asked the girl behind the counter: 'Haben Sie eine Wiege? Ich mochte etwas wagen. I want to do something risky. Icit miichte etwas wiegen. I want to weigh something. Even Oppenheimer stumbled over them. In the spring of he applied for permission to take the examination for a doctor's degree.
To everyone's astonishment his request was flatly refused by the Prussian Ministry of Education, to which the University of Gottingen was subordinated. An inquiry by the dean of the Natural Science Faculty elicited the following reply from Ministerial Councillor von Ruttenburg in Berlin: 'Herr Oppenheimer made a wholly inadequate application. Obviously the Ministry had to refuse it.
He had never formally matriculated, therefore, and consequently had never been a member of the university at all! The professors of the future father of the atom bomb had to write imploring letters to the Rectorial Board and the Ministry. Max Born said Oppenheimer's work for his doctor's degree had been so outstanding that Born wanted to publish it in one of the series of Gottingen dissertations.
The plea that the American undergraduate could not wait another term at Gottingen to take his examination in regular fashion was expressed to the authorities in a petition for the grant of belated matriculation. Was this argument justified by the facts? It would be foolish of me to enter into such an agreement without your assurance that our abstinence would not be a permanent state of affairs.
She'd thought that she might have aroused a deeper passion in him. She should have known better. He had other reasons for kissing her. And now for the second part of my stipulation. He leaned forward. Come here. She hadn't given him permission to do so—and yet, she had agreed to marry him, so she supposed she shouldn't quibble. When she didn't respond yet again, he reached out, grasped her hand, and yanked her over a mahogany table and back into his lap.
Abruptly, he cut the kiss off, leaving her shaking. After all, how often was he actually going to want to kiss her? Stumbling, she rose to her feet.
The weather had cleared, but the sun was beginning to set. I need only to fill in your name. To pack. She had nothing suitable for marrying an earl. He crossed his arms. She had spent the last five years clandestinely wheeling and dealing on the 'change. Words like final offer were comfortable and familiar.
Much more so than marriage. What precisely is this boon you demand? Merely an afternoon in your company. After all, we are courting, aren't we? A few minutes later a carriage was brought around, and Charles watched as a footman helped her up.
He leaned on his cane, absently flexing his ankle.
The bloody injury had better heal quickly; it looked as if he might have to chase his wife around the house. He stood on the front steps for several minutes after the carriage disappeared from view, watching as the sun hung on the horizon and painted the sky. Her hair, he suddenly thought. Eleanor's hair was the exact color of the sun at his favorite time of day.
His heart filled with unexpected joy, and he smiled. Chapter 4 By the time Ellie arrived home that evening, she was a bundle of nerves. It was one thing to agree to this crazy scheme of marriage to Billington. It was quite another to calmly face her stern and domineering father and inform him of her plans. As her luck would have it, Mrs.
Foxglove had returned, presumably to tell the reverend what an evil, ungrateful daughter he had. Ellie waited patiently throughout Mrs. I don't know how I will be able to live in peace with her in my house, but—" "You won't have to," Ellie interrupted. Foxglove's head swung around, her eyes blinking furiously. Lyndon demanded. Ellie filled the silence with: I am getting married in three days. Foxglove recovered her normally extensive powers of speech and said, "Don't be ridiculous.
I happen to know you have no suitors. Lyndon cut in with, "Would you care to tell us the name of this suitor? He is the Earl of Billington. Foxglove screeched, clearly unable to decide whether she should be delighted by her imminent connection to the aristocracy, or furious with Ellie for having the audacity to perform such a coup on her own. Now, if you will both excuse me, I have to pack.
When she turned around, she saw him brush off Mrs. Foxglove's grasping hand and make his way to her side.
His face was pale, and the creases around his eyes were deeper than usual. I would—" He stopped and cleared his throat. Her father was proud, and such an admission and request could only be wrenched from deep within his heart. On impulse, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a small peck on the cheek.
It had been a long time since she had done that. Too long, she realized, and vowed that she would somehow make her marriage work. When she had a family of her own, her children would not be afraid to tell their parents what they felt. She just hoped that Billington thought the same way. He knocked on the door promptly at one o'clock and was surprised when the door was opened not by Ellie, not by her father, but by a plump, dark-haired woman who immediately squealed, "You must be the earrrrrrrrrrrl.
This creature couldn't possibly be related to Ellie. The woman reached for his arm, but he was saved by a sound coming from across the room that could only be described as a barely suppressed groan. Thank God. Foxglove," she said, her voice laced with irritation. She quickly made her way across the room. Ah, Mrs. Foxglove said, turning toward Ellie with open arms. Ellie dodged the older lady with an artful sidestep. Foxglove is my future stepmother," she said pointedly.
Foxglove that way. Foxglove turned to Charles and said, "Dear Eleanor's mother passed on many years ago. I am delighted to be as a mother to her.
She looked ready to spit. Perhaps we should—" "I have a miniature of my mother," Ellie said, looking at Mrs. Foxglove even though her words were ostensibly directed at Charles.
Foxglove said as Ellie crossed the room and took a small painting off of a shelf. Lyndon had not been present. Lord knew if he had a daughter planning to marry at the drop of a hat, he'd want to have a look at the potential groom. Charles allowed himself a small, private smile at the thought of having a daughter.
Parenthood seemed such a foreign thing. She turned to Charles and added, "He is out visiting parishioners. He is often detained. Foxglove looked as if she wanted to say something, but she was stopped by Ellie, who brushed rudely by her, holding out a miniature painting. He took the small piece from her hands and regarded the raven-haired woman in the portrait. This"—Ellie touched a piece of red-gold hair that had escaped her neat chignon—"was quite a surprise, I'm sure.
Foxglove said loudly, clearly not enjoying being ignored, "we have never known what to do with Eleanor's hair. She immediately colored beet red. Charles grinned and said, "We'd best be off. Foxglove, it was a pleasure. As soon as they were out of Mrs. Foxglove's earshot he let out a light laugh and said, "The closest of escapes. I thought she would never let us go.
I do so love to tease you. Were you embarrassed? I've grown surprisedly used to your rakish statements in the three days I've known you. But that doesn't mean I won't blush. I vow I have completely lost hold of this conversation. As if she has had a place in my life for years.
As if I would let her have a place. Now she'll never know how furious I am with her. It seems rather clear to me. Because if you are, I happen to have brought along the Times for our picnic, and I can certainly read it while you stare at the countryside and meditate upon the fifty different ways you'd like to do your future stepmother in.
Charles chuckled as he offered her his arm. Then she felt rather stupid, because such a comment implied that he wanted to seduce her, and she was fairly certain that women were more or less interchangeable in Charles's mind.
Oh, he was going to marry her, that was true, but Ellie had a sinking suspicion that she had been chosen because she was convenient. After all, he himself had told her that he had barely a fortnight to find a bride. He seemed to enjoy kissing her, but he'd probably enjoy kissing any woman, save for Mrs.
And he had clearly spelled out to her the main reason why he wanted to consummate the marriage. What was that he'd said? A man in his position must beget an heir. She coughed and touched her head in a reflexive manner.
We are only going to the meadow. They'll be on your own face, so you won't have to see them. I wish you'd cease persisting in calling it that common color when it's really so much more than that. Ellie rolled her eyes, deciding that it must be time for a change of subject. Something, perhaps, that obeyed ordinary rules of logic. I noticed you are no longer using the cane. I've still a bit of pain, and I do find myself limping, but I don't appear to be any worse for having fallen out of a tree.
Although," he added wickedly, "the rest of me is quite black and blue from my altercation yesterday. Are you quite all right? I was not myself. I'd say you were precisely yourself. Were you to back out of this marriage, I'd be left with a pile of stones and no capital to keep it up. She'd always held a deep admiration for good architecture, and the abbey was one of the more beautiful buildings in the district. He cast a sharp look in her direction.
He would be most unhappy with her if she backed out of the marriage. She had no doubt he could make her life utter hell if he so chose, and she had a feeling that should she leave him at the altar, spite alone would be motivation enough for him to devote his life to ruining hers. He didn't sound relieved. He sounded more self-satisfied than anything else. She was contemplating why this disturbed her so when he spoke again. And I think I don't like it. You don't like it when you are not firmly in control.
I believe we shall suit each other admirably as husband and wife. How about you? She was so stunned that she couldn't even manage to say, "I beg your pardon. Every night. I promised you could try. I never said I'd 'let' you do anything. And don't try to tell me you don't. I've met Mrs. Foxglove now. I know what you have waiting for you at home. He knew just how tight a bind she was in. Foxglove and her endless carping had seen to that.
I believe you. You must know you're a very handsome man. Ellie was rather pleased to have set him at a loss for words for a change. She continued with, "And you're quite charming. Trust me. That may have worked with your simpleminded London misses who care for naught but the color of their ribbons, but I am made of sterner—and smarter—stuff.
The only woman smart enough to be your countess is the one who can see through your superficial rakish veneer. By now Ellie was laughing in earnest, and he was not amused. Watch the road! Chapter 5 Charles grunted as he hit the ground, feeling the jolt in every bone, every muscle, every damned hair on his body. Half a second later Ellie landed on top of him, feeling for all the world like an immense sack of potatoes with very good aim.
Charles closed his eyes, wondering if he would ever be able to sire children, wondering if he'd ever again even want to try. He would have liked to respond, preferably with something sarcastic, but he couldn't speak. His ribs hurt so much that he was certain every last one of them would shatter if he so much as tried to use his voice.
After what seemed like an eternity, she rolled off of him, her pointy little elbow finding the tender spot below his left kidney. Charles thought about strangling her. He thought about getting her fitted for a muzzle. He even thought about kissing her just to wipe that annoying expression off of her face, but in the end he just laid there, trying to find his breath. They're terribly expensive to replace, and Bellfield's wheelwright is drunk more often than not.
You could travel to Faversham, of course, but I wouldn't recommend—" Charles let out an agonized groan, although he wasn't quite sure what was paining him most: Ellie crouched back down, concern growing on her face. Did I knock the breath out of you when I fell?
Do you feel hot? I wasn't driving. And I certainly didn't have anything to do with your falling out of a tree. His only sound was a groan as he tried to sit up. He shot her a sideways look that reeked of sarcasm. I hope you have a splendid time walking home. What is it— ten, fifteen miles?
He winced and said, "Just don't say anything. Not a word. Not a"—he gasped as he felt another rush of pain—"single damned word. Her spine stiffened, her teeth clenched, and her hands curved into involuntary little claws. And then, with a loud, "Hmmmph," she turned on her heel and marched toward home. Charles lifted his head long enough to see her stride off, sighed, and promptly passed out. He's worse than Mrs. It looked like a metal bolt of some sort. She picked it up, rolled it around in her hand for a moment, then slipped it into her pocket.
There was a little boy in her father's parish who loved trinkets like this. Perhaps she could give it to him next time she went to church. Ellie sighed. She'd have plenty of time to give the bolt to Tommy Beechcombe. It certainly didn't look as if she'd be moving out of her father's house any time soon. She might as well start practicing her chimney sweeping techniques that afternoon.
The Earl of Billington had brought a brief measure of excitement into her life, but it was now clear they wouldn't suit. She did, however, feel a touch guilty about leaving him lying by the side of the road. Not that he didn't deserve it, of course, but Ellie always tried to be charitable, and She shook her head and rolled her eyes.
One look back wouldn't kill her. Just to see if he was all right. She twisted around but realized that she'd gone over a little hill and couldn't see him any longer. She let out a deep breath and trudged back toward the scene of the accident. She stumbled over a rock and landed next to him, her knee jabbing into his side.
He groaned. Ellie let out her breath, which she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She hadn't really thought he was dead, but he'd been so terribly still. Foxglove was always waving around vile-smelling potions at the least provocation.
She picked it up, unscrewed the cap, and sniffed the contents. Pungent whiskey fumes filled the air. Ellie wondered if the alcohol was left over from the day Charles had fallen out of the tree.
He certainly hadn't been drinking today—of that, Ellie was certain. She would have smelled it on him—and besides, she didn't think he was the sort to abuse spirits on a regular basis.
She looked down at this man she was actually considering marrying. Even unconscious, there was a certain air of resolute power about him. No, he wouldn't need alcohol to bolster his selfesteem. No response. Ellie frowned and placed her hand over his heart. It evaporated quickly against her flesh, so she repeated the motion, this time keeping the flask overturned a bit longer. When she was satisfied that her fingers were sufficiently wet, she dabbed them under his nose.
He shot up like a bullet, blinking and startled, looking very much like a man waking up too quickly from a nightmare. Ellie lurched back to avoid his flailing arms, but she wasn't quick enough, and he knocked the flask from her hands.
It sailed through the air, spewing whiskey all the while. She jumped backward, and this time she was quick enough. All of the whiskey landed on Charles, who was still spluttering incoherently.
His eyes darkened. There is a difference. And you—" He jabbed his finger in her direction, then winced at the sudden movement and grabbed his head. All she could see was that he was in pain. A lot of pain, if his facial expression was any indication. You would have made a superb army commander had you been born a man.
I suppose I must apologize, but I was just trying to—" "Flambe me? I was trying to revive you. An alcoholic vinaigrette, if you will. You knocked the flask over when you sat up. I am also damned confused. However"—she waved her hand nonchalantly in the air—"it is lucky for you that I have never been overly fussy about such matters.
When he reached his feet, he planted his hands on his hips and stretched his neck to the left. The joint made several cracking sounds, and Charles fought the urge to smile when Ellie winced. He didn't reply, just stretched his neck in the opposite direction, finding some sort of perverse satisfaction in the second round of cracking noises. After a moment, his eyes fell upon the overturned curricle, and he swore under his breath.
The wheel had come off and was now crushed beneath the body of the vehicle. Ellie followed his line of vision and said, "Yes, I tried to tell you that the wheel was quite ruined, but I now realize that you were in far too much pain to listen. I didn't realize how hurt you were. If I had, I should never have left. I— I shouldn't have left regardless. It was very bad of me. It shouldn't be difficult to walk back and lead the horses.
I am certain my father will be able to arrange transportation home for you. Or we can find a messenger to fetch a fresh carriage from Wycombe Abbey. Other than the fact that we drove through a rut and overturned? Broken, from when we overturned, but attached right here at the centerpoint.
I saw it. I felt it. Look at the manner in which it is damaged. The spokes have been crushed by the weight of the curricle, but the body of the wheel is in one piece. I have studied very little physics, but I should think it would have snapped in two when we overturned.
Just over the hill. It must have come loose and fallen off the wheel. He was so close that his breath touched her face, so close that she could feel his words as well as hear them.
She just sat there, utterly still, as he slowly tilted his head to the side and rested his lips upon hers. Having the inside of her lower lip caressed by a man's tongue did that to her. Charles chuckled and lifted his head a mere inch. She bit her lip to keep herself from saying something she might regret. She took it and allowed him to help her up, even though she suspected that the effort hurt him.
A man had his pride, after all, and Ellie rather suspected that the Wycombes had more than their fair share. Ellie kept the conversation strictly on neutral topics, such as literature, French cuisine, and—even though she winced at the banality of it when she brought it up—the weather.
Charles looked rather amused throughout the conversation, as if he knew exactly what she was doing. Worse, his ironic smile was just a touch benevolent, as if he were somehow permitting her to talk about thunderstorms and the like.
Ellie wasn't much enamored with the smug look on his face, but she had to be impressed that he could maintain the expression while he was limping, rubbing his head, and occasionally clutching his ribs.
When the cottage came into view, Ellie turned to Charles and said, "My father has returned. He will be working on his sermon. Sunday is days away. I remember my vicar frantically scribbling away every Saturday eve. He would frequently come up to Wycombe Abbey for inspiration.
I had no idea you were such an angelic child. He liked to study me and then choose which of my sins would serve as his next sermon's theme. He doubled as my Latin tutor and gave me lessons three times per week.
He claimed I had been put on this earth to torture him. When she looked up at him in question, he said in a quiet voice, "A word with you before I meet your father? His mouth was tight when he said, "You are still committed to marrying me the day after tomorrow, are you not? Charles, who had been so adamant about holding her to her promise, seemed to be offering her an escape clause.
She could cry off, say she had cold feet She swallowed, thinking of how tedious her life had become. The prospect of marrying a stranger terrified her, but not nearly as much as a lifetime of boredom. No, it would be worse than that. A lifetime of boredom punctuated by bouts with Mrs. Whatever the earl's faults—and Ellie had a feeling they might be many—she knew in her heart that he was not an evil or weak man.
Surely she could find happiness with him. Charles touched her shoulder, and she nodded. Ellie thought she saw his shoulders sag slightly with relief, but within moments the mask of the dashing young earl was back in place on his face. He nodded, and Ellie pushed open the door and called out, "Papa?
Foxglove had to return home," Ellie said, flashing Charles a secret smile. Papa, this is Charles Wycombe, Earl of Billington. Charles thought the reverend seemed too rigid and forbidding to have fathered such a bright flame as Eleanor. He could tell by the way Mr. Lyndon looked at him that he fell short of the son-in-law ideal, as well.
They exchanged introductory pleasantries, sat down, and then once Ellie had left the room to prepare some tea, the reverend turned to Charles and said, "Most men would approve of a future son-in-law solely because he is an earl. I am not such a man. Clearly Eleanor has been raised by a man of stern moral character. Eleanor Lyndon had never even once shown symptoms of being dazzled by his title or his wealth.
In fact, she seemed far more interested in her three hundred pounds than his vast fortune. The reverend leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to discern the sincerity behind the earl's words.
But I will tell you this: If you mistreat Eleanor in any way, I shall descend upon you with all of the hellfire and torment I can muster. He imagined that the reverend could muster quite a bit of hellfire and torment. Lyndon leaned back, satisfied.
He didn't smile, but then, Charles doubted he smiled often. She had the approval of her father, something that meant more to her than she'd realized until that very moment. Now all she had to do was actually get married.
She gulped. Lord help her. Chapter 6 The next day, a package addressed to Ellie arrived by special messenger. Curious, she untied the string, pausing when an envelope fluttered out. She reached down to the floor, picked up the envelope, and opened it.
My dear Eleanor, Please accept this gift as a token of my esteem and affection. You looked so lovely in green the other day.
I thought you might like to be married in it. Billington P. Please do not cover your hair. Ellie could barely suppress a gasp when she felt her fingers touch luxurious velvet. She pulled aside the rest of the wrappings to reveal the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen—much less had the opportunity to wear.
Fashioned of the deepest emerald velvet, it was simply cut, without flounces or ruffles. Ellie knew it would suit her perfectly. With any luck, the man who'd given it to her would suit her as well. A carriage arrived to carry Ellie, her father, and Mrs. Foxglove to Wycombe Abbey, and Ellie truly felt like a fairy princess. The dress, the carriage, the impossibly handsome man waiting for her at the end of her journey—they all seemed like props in some glorious magical tale.
The ceremony was to take place in the formal drawing room of Wycombe Abbey. The Reverend Mr. Lyndon took his place at the front, then, much to everyone's amusement, let out a little yelp of dismay and rushed out of the room. Further laughs ensued when he said, out of rote, "Who gives away this woman?
What was she doing? She hardly knew him. She looked at her father, who was gazing at her with uncharacteristic nostalgia. She looked over at Mrs. Foxglove, who had seemingly forgotten her plans to use Ellie as a human chimney brush and had spent the entire carriage ride over going on and on about how she'd always known that "dear Eleanor would make a splendid catch" and "my dear dear stepsonin-law, the earl.
And then he slipped a heavy gold band onto the fourth finger of her left hand, and Ellie realized that in the eyes of God and England, she now belonged to the Earl of Billington.
For a woman who had always prided herself on her pluck, her knees felt suspiciously watery. Lyndon completed the ceremony, and Charles leaned down and placed a fleeting kiss upon Ellie's lips. To an observer it was nothing more than a gentle peck, but Ellie felt his tongue flick along the corner of her mouth.
Flustered by this hidden caress, she'd barely had time to regain her composure when Charles took her arm and led her over to a small group of individuals she assumed were his relatives. People living at higher latitudes throughout the world are at higher risk of hypertension, and patients with cardiovascular disease are often found to be deficient in vitamin D, according to research by Harvard Medical School professor Thomas J.
Wang and colleagues in the 29 January issue of Circulation. Another group of hypertensive adults was exposed to a tanning bed that emitted UVA-only radiation similar to winter sunlight. These results were published in the 29 August issue of The Lancet.
William Grant, who directs the Sunlight, Nutrition, and Health Research Center, a research and education organization based in San Francisco, suspects that sun exposure and higher 25 OH D levels may confer protection against other illnesses such as rheumatoid arthritis RA , asthma, and infectious diseases.
Some reports, including an article in the October—December issue of Acta Medica Indonesiana, indicate that sufficient 1,25 OH D inhibits induction of disease in RA, collagen-induced arthritis, Lyme arthritis, autoimmune encephalomyelitis, thyroiditis, inflammatory bowel disease, and systemic lupus erythematosus.
Nonetheless, interventional data are lacking for most autoimmune disorders and infectious diseases, with the exception of TB. How Much Is Enough? Nevertheless, given the epidemiologic backdrop described above, there are now calls to rethink sun exposure policy or to promote vitamin D supplementation in higher-risk populations.
Additionally, solely breastfed infants whose mothers were vitamin D deficient during pregnancy have smaller reserves of the nutrient and are at greater risk of developing rickets. Even in the sun-rich environment of the Middle East, insufficient vitamin D is a severe problem among breast-fed infants of women who wear a burqa a traditional garment that covers the body from head to foot , as reported in the February Journal of Pediatrics. Several recent reports indicate an increase in rickets particularly among breastfed black infants, though white babies also are increasingly at risk.
A study in the February Journal of Nutrition concluded that black and white pregnant women and neonates in the northern United States are at high risk of vitamin D insufficiency, even when mothers take prenatal vitamins which typically provide — IU vitamin D3.
Studies by Bruce Hollis, director of pediatric nutritional sciences at the Medical University of South Carolina, and colleagues suggest that a maternal vitamin D3 intake of 4, IU per day is safe and sufficient to ensure adequate vitamin D status for both mother and nursing infant.
In the context of inadequate sunlight or vitamin D insufficiency, some scientists worry that the emphasis on preventing skin cancers tends to obscure the much larger mortality burden posed by more life-threatening cancers such as lung, colon, and breast cancers.
So when you estimate the number of deaths likely to be attributable to UV light or vitamin D, it does is not appear to be the best policy to advise people to simply keep out of the sun just to prevent skin cancer. Cedric F. Holick, Vieth, and many other experts now make a similar daily recommendation: 4, IU vitamin D3 without sun exposure or 2, IU plus 12—15 minutes of midday sun.
They say this level is quite safe except for sun-sensitive individuals or those taking medications that increase photosensitivity. Gilchrest says some sunlight enters the skin even through a high-SPF sunscreen, so people can maximize their dermal vitamin D production by spending additional time outdoors while wearing protection.
Creating a Balanced Message A growing number of scientists are concerned that efforts to protect the public from excessive UVR exposure may be eclipsing recent research demonstrating the diverse health-promoting benefits of UVR exposure. Some argue that the health benefits of UVB radiation seem to outweigh the adverse effects, and that the risks can be minimized by carefully managing UVR exposure e.
Antioxidants including polyphenols, apigenin, curcumin, proanthocyanidins, resveratrol, and silymarin have shown promise in laboratory studies in protecting against UVR-induced skin cancer, perhaps through antimutagenic or immune-modulating mechanisms. Central to the emerging debate is the issue of how to best construct public health messages that highlight the pros and cons of sun exposure in a balanced way.
Gilchrest says the American Academy of Dermatology and most dermatologists currently suggest sun protection in combination with vitamin D supplementation as a means of minimizing the risk of both skin cancer and internal cancers. Furthermore, brief, repeated exposures are more efficient at producing vitamin D.
Lucas adds that people should use sun protection when the UV Index is more than 3. In the near future, vitamin D and health guidelines regarding sun exposure may need to be revised.
But many factors not directly linked to sun protection will also need to be taken into account. Serotonin, Melatonin, and Daylight As diurnal creatures, we humans are programmed to be outdoors while the sun is shining and home in bed at night.
This is why melatonin is produced during the dark hours and stops upon optic exposure to daylight. It also plays an important role in countering infection, inflammation, cancer, and auto-immunity, according to a review in the May issue of Current Opinion in Investigational Drugs. Finally, melatonin suppresses UVR-induced skin damage, according to research in the July issue of Endocrine.
When people are exposed to sunlight or very bright artificial light in the morning, their nocturnal melatonin production occurs sooner, and they enter into sleep more easily at night. Melatonin production also shows a seasonal variation relative to the availability of light, with the hormone produced for a longer period in the winter than in the summer.
The melatonin rhythm phase advancement caused by exposure to bright morning light has been effective against insomnia, premenstrual syndrome, and seasonal affective disorder SAD. The melatonin precursor, serotonin, is also affected by exposure to daylight. Normally produced during the day, serotonin is only converted to melatonin in darkness.
Whereas high melatonin levels correspond to long nights and short days, high serotonin levels in the presence of melatonin reflect short nights and long days i. Moderately high serotonin levels result in more positive moods and a calm yet focused mental outlook. Indeed, SAD has been linked with low serotonin levels during the day as well as with a phase delay in nighttime melatonin production. It was recently found that mammalian skin can produce serotonin and transform it into melatonin, and that many types of skin cells express receptors for both serotonin and melatonin.
With our modern-day penchant for indoor activity and staying up well past dusk, nocturnal melatonin production is typically far from robust. This can have a major impact on melatonin rhythms and can result in improvements in mood, energy, and sleep quality. Going shades-free in the daylight, even for just 10—15 minutes, could confer significant health benefits.