Hilda Horowitz Reibel

This eulogy was discovered while the webmaster was reorganizing her files. Hilda Reibel was Paula Schwartz’s (aka Elizabeth Mansfield) mother.

Our mother was a passionate woman. The kind of woman the Tolstoys and Checkovs made their heroines. Stormy, fiery, romantic. You can see it in the photos of her at twenty — the flashing dark eyes, the long, full, wavy hair falling over one shoulder. Anya in The Cherry Orchard. Wild, beautiful, made for tragedy.

Whatever she loved, she loved fiercely. And, as it turned out, what she loved most fiercely were her two daughters. She loved them with the instinctive ferocity of a tiger for her cubs. Two incidents from our childhood give a graphic picture of that passion.

One took place at the pond at our summer haven, Hartstein’s Bungalow Colony in the Catskills. The pond was small but deep, located at the bottom of a little dell. Ruthie was in the water with some other children, and several parents were sitting about on the grassy slope above. Ruthie must have slipped on the slimy mud bottom of the pond and couldn’t regain her footing she bagan to flay about, drowning. Everyone in the water and on the hill froze in horror. No one moved. But our mother, the tiger, leapt to her feed, raced down the hill with almost superhuman speed, charged into the pond and, without a shred of lifesaving science but simply by pure animal instinct, snatched her child from the jaws of death.

The other incident occurred at school during Paula’s second grade. During a fire drill, the child committed some infraction, and the teacher dragged her out of the line, thrust her into a broom closet and promptly forgot about her.  Lunch time came and went. Mother became alarmed and, leaving her store in charge of a customer, went to school to find her. As she ran down the corridor she heard sounds emanating from a closet, opened it and found her daughter sitting on an upturned pail, sobbing. Without a word, she grabbed her daughter’s hand, dragged her over to the classroom where the teacher was sitting at her desk eating her lunch and , with those tiger instincts at full rage, whacked that teacher across the face. The act shamed us then, but not now. Now what we’d like to say about it is, “Way to go, Mom!”

She had the soul of an artist, but the times and circumstances deprived her of the opportunity to become one. But she bequeathed to her daughters some of that inner passion — her passion for music, her passion for poetry, her passion for dance. Glimmerings of that passion are visible and alive in her grandchildren, and the shine will surely continue for generations to come.

One of her favorite poems was a Wordsworth lyric that she made us memorize and that she herself would recite at the drop of a hat. So, mother, here it is again. If there is an afterlife, we hope you’re in a place with a host of golden daffodils. If you’re anywhere within hearing, we know you’ll be saying the words with us:

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills
When all at once I saw a crowd
A host of golden daffodils…
I gazed and gazed, but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought,
For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of soliturde…
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

My Lord Murderer

img-mansfieldmylordmurderer_155311231018In this enthralling Regency romance by award-winning author Elizabeth Mansfield, a young woman vows not to fall in love with the nobleman who killed her husband

A dashing stranger sweeps Lady Gwendolyn Rowle onto the dance floor. She is living every woman’s fantasy until she discovers who her romantic waltz partner really is: Viscount Andrew Jamison—the man who killed her husband.

From the moment he saw her glide into the ballroom, Drew was captivated by the ravishing beauty. Finding out she is the widow of the blackguard he killed in a duel puts something of a damper on the evening, especially with all of London calling him a cold-blooded villain. To quiet the gossip, Drew devises an ingenious scheme. The only person standing in his way is the lovely Gwen, who has no intention of marrying her husband’s murderer. But then she does something far more dangerous: She falls in love with him.

Purchase this eBook from Open Road Media or your favorite online bookseller.

a note from Lady M: This novel is one of my favorites! I’m so happy it’s available again after being out of print for so long.


The Phantom Lover

img-mansfieldphantomlover_155314507075 The fascinating stranger who visits a young lady in the dead of night is no ghostly spirit in this spellbinding Regency romance by award-winning author Elizabeth Mansfield

After scandalizing London with her improper behavior and jilting two suitors, Nell Belden is about to do it again. This time she rejects the very wealthy, utterly insufferable nobleman her financially strapped guardians have been pressuring her to marry. Banished to their isolated Cornwall estate, Nell is awakened one night by an unusual apparition.

But her midnight visitor is no phantom. He is Captain Henry Thorne, sixth Earl of Thornbury. The new Lord of Thorndene has returned to his crumbling family seat to live in isolation, far from the horrors of war. Nell is intrigued by this wounded soldier who has no desire to take his rightful place in society. As the weeks pass and fascination flames into dangerous desire, Nell realizes she must leave—or risk losing her heart to the one man who can never belong to her.

Purchase this eBook from Open Road Media or your favorite online bookseller.

Award-winning Regency Romance Author