The mist rolls thick over Dartmoor as young Phoebe Lyddon waits for the man she loves to arrive. This is the world Eden Phillpotts conjures in Children of the Mist: rural Devonshire in the late nineteenth century, where love blooms as naturally as the heather, until the world's harsh realities come crashing in. When Will Blanchard comes to ask Phoebe's father for her hand, Mr. Lyddon dismisses him as a foolish boy with no prospects, no ambition, no future. Humiliated but determined, Will leaves for London to make his name, swearing to return when he has proven himself worthy. What follows is a tender, sometimes bitter exploration of young love tested by class, parental authority, and the crushing weight of expectation. Phoebe remains behind on the moor, heart heavy with doubt. Phillpotts writes with quiet intensity about the ache of separation, the cruelty that masquerades as protection, and whether love can survive such a trial. Anyone who has been told their dreams are foolish, anyone who has waited for someone who may never come back, will feel the resonance across the centuries.
