Regency Connections

I know I'm not alone in loving the research aspect of writing (see Melinda's post below!) and I enjoy it all the more when my reading turns up something totally unexpected. Last week I was thrilled to discover that one of the Craven family whom I am researching for my National Trust book about Ashdown House was none other than a founding patroness of Almack's Assembly Rooms, "the 7th heaven of the fashionable world."

The Hon. Maria Craven, daughter of the 6th Baron Craven became Lady Sefton when she married William Philip Molyneaux, 2nd Earl of Sefton, in 1792. The Earl and Countess were prominent members of the Ton, but unlike some of the other patronesses such as Lady Jersey or Lady Cowper, very little is recorded about Maria Sefton other than the fact that she was considered to be amiable and kind. To add to her mystery, there appear to be no contemporary portraits of her. References to her role as patroness of Almack's are often illustrated with a picture of her mother instead! I imagine that this might amuse - or possibly annoy - Maria Sefton if she knew; her mother, Elizabeth Craven, had been a scandalous member of Georgian society, indulging in several love affairs and leaving her husband in 1783. She travelled widely abroad and set up as mistress to the Margrave of Anspach in Germany. They later married but when Elizabeth returned to England in 1791 her daughters, including Maria, refused to visit or even to acknowledge her. In taking her father's part Maria conveniently ignored the fact that he had behaved every bit as disreputably as his wife!

This idea of Maria being a very respectable member of society who disapproved of the more racy and scandalous set fits well with the image of the patronesses of Almack's as the arbiters of manners as well as fashion, banning people whom they thought would lower the tone. I suspect, however, that none of them were particularly kind people, no matter what Captain Grunow thought! Wielding that sort of power to make or break a young lady's social career seems pretty cruel to me. One also wonders what Maria made of the less than respectable shenanigans in her own generaton of the Craven family. Her younger brother William, who became the 1st Earl of Craven of the 2nd Creation, was a lover of the notorious courtesan Harriette Wilson and later went on to marry the celebrated actress, Louisa Brunton. Described as a very charming gentleman by Jane Austen, who nevertheless disapproved of his private life, he was the archetypal Regency nobleman, a distinguished soldier, a bon viveur and a man who had his yacht armed with small cannon in case he met the French when sailing in the Channel!

During most of the eighteenth century the Craven family lived very quietly as country gentlemen (and ladies). It is quite a relief to find that at the end of that period they burst onto the social scene and remained prominent members of society into the twentieth century. At least there is more research for me to get my teeth into! However, I would like to discover more about Maria, Lady Sefton. If anyone knows of any references to her and especially if there is a portrait that is really her and not her mother, I'd love to hear about it!

All in the name of research.

I have been reading and writing about the Georgian and Regency periods for many years, but whenever I write a new book I always find there is something that needs more research.

For the Wicked Baron, I needed to read up on the techniques used in painting frescoes. I had been looking around West Wycombe, the beautiful Italianate mansion owned by the National Trust and decided I wanted my heroine to be able to paint a fresco on the ceiling. Thankfully there was a lot of information online,including the snippet of information that Michelangelo sometimes painted alone (which is important in setting up a scene for Carlotta to meet the Wicked Baron).

For More Than a Governess, I spent a day travelling part of the old coaching road from Leek to Rochdale, stopping off at Rushton Spencer where the carriage wheel broke and my hero and heroine were obliged to spend several eventful days. And for Moonshadows, I had to try out a Porsche (well, maybe that wasn't strictly necessary, but it was fun – and I couldn't get to test drive in an Aston Martin, which is the other car featured in the book!)

When I wanted the villain to sabotage a carriage in the Wicked Baron it had to look like an accident. This meant reading up on carriage construction and in the end I contacted two carriage builders/restorers and asked their opinion – the line in one emailed reply made me smile, "1817 is a good date for sabotage"! I won't go into detail, but around this time there was a change in how wheels were fixed to the axles, making it much easier for a loose wheel to be overlooked.

I have always found experts extremely helpful when researching a book, and I am constantly amazed by how generous they are with their time and information. This is very good news for authors like myself, because their expertise makes our books all the richer.

Melinda Hammond (Sarah Mallory)

In time for Christmas

It is always exciting when a novel comes out in a new format and many Loveday fans enjoy the audio version. Good news for them. The audio version of THE LOVEDAY CONSPIRACY is out today. It is published by Isis Soundings and would make a great Christmas present for anyone who prefers to listen to stories. If purchased through the Isis Soundings website it is approximately half the price of Amazon. 12 Cassettes boxed set £21.99. CD set £31.99. MP3 CD £31.99. Other titles in the series are also available.
I love the cover presented by Isis.

It is always a thrill hearing from Loveday readers either through email on my Kate Tremayne website or through The Loveday Books blog. These are a few of the questions that readers have asked about the series and my writing. I hope you find them interesting.

Q. For your Loveday characters, do you draw on the nature of your friends or your family?
A. That could be a good way of losing family and friends. But taking the question seriously there must be a subconscious element in my work when this occurs. I think most writers have an in built radar that has the ability to see two sides of a conflict between personalities. We probably also have an extra sense that delves into the psychological makeup of a character, so we know how they would react in a given set of circumstances. Also who of us have not judged a celebrity or person in a news story for their behaviour and how it affected others. This is information we gather all the time and it must leak back into our consciousness when developing character traits.

Q. Do you agonize before "killing off" a character?
A. This is never an easy decision especially when it is a member of the family. If I cannot do it in a way that has me reaching for the tissue box then I feel I have failed them. Unfortunately for the series to progress it is sometimes necessary to say goodbye too much loved friends. This enables new conflicts to be introduced and the drama within the family does not stagnate and they become bound by old rivalries. I have filled bin liners full of soggy tissues. Even with old adversaries, although there is a sense of satisfaction in bringing an enemy to justice, I have to decided what is dramatic and right for the series which will keep the story unpredictable and exciting. New protagonists bring in new emotion and drama and I hope the readers look forward to more adventures with Tristan.

Q. Within any given novel, do you know everything that is going to happen to your Loveday characters? Have there been surprises?
A. There are times when I despair of some unexpected escapades a Loveday has become involved in and have to find a way of retrieving them from it. Yet every time this has happened, I forget the sleepless nights, the extra research, and anxious days of resolving some fresh crisis, when I realise how much this event has improved the novel. The most recent of these incidents is in The Loveday Conspiracy when Adam shoots a man and saves Tristan’s life. Adam simply took over the scene. I was aghast. Not only did this make Adam a cold-bloodied murderer but he had saved the life of the cousin he hated as he blamed Tristan for St John’s death. My immediate reaction was to rewrite the scene. Yet knowing Adam so well this was how he would have instinctively reacted to the situation that presented itself. Whatever the rivalry and conflict within the family in times of danger loyalty binds them together.

Q.Your characters have such interesting names. How do you come up with them?
A. A character never comes alive for me until I have the right name. For Adam I wanted something very Alpha male. St John seemed more enigmatic. A name for a man of position who was a victim of the desolutory nature of the men of his times. When I heard the name Japhet I knew he would be the blacksheep of the family and a lovable rogue. It fitted him so well. In contrast his brother was always Pious Peter with his own demons to fight. Edward was a no nonsense name that felt right for their father. Meriel came to me as soon as she was introduced on the page and was exotic for an inn-keeper’s daughter but right for her fortune-huntress scheming. Senara needed to have an earthy ring to it because of her pagan ways. Tamasine was an unexpected arrival in the family and I wanted a name that showed her fighting, unconventional spirit. Recently when it was time to introduce a ne’er-do-well cousin who had clawed his way up from the gutter with a dark past and every reason to hate his family, Tristan sounded intriguing for a guttersnipe who vowed to become lord of the manor. He is the most complex character and I still enjoying exploring deeper aspects of his character.

Q. How much research do you do for each Loveday book?
A. I read everything I can about the Georgian period and apart from rereading several of these to check certain facts usually add another 6-8 new ones for each novel that are relevant to the new twists of the plot.

Q. Are you a disciplined writer?
A. To be published you have to be disciplined it is your work, but when the muse refuses to strike its OK to take some time out. Then I usually read or watch a film and sometimes find that by doing this an answer is given to me.

Q.Are there days when you DO NOT feel like writing? If so, how do you get back on track
A. Writing is a passion if not an obsession with me and no day feels complete if I have not produced some writing. There are however days when the Lovedays do not co-operate which often means I am tackling a scene or conflict from the wrong angle.

Q. Has a Loveday plot or character ever come to you through a dream?
A. Yes but not nearly often enough to make writing easy for me. Most of the prologues in the books have been dreams.

I wish everyone all the joys of the festive season.
Kate Tremayne

Travel of various kinds.

This is my first post as a regular contributor to this blog, so there's a little new, a little old.

Part of the "old" is where I was, on the west coast of Canada. Part of the new is where I am, in Whitby, on the east coast of England. Both beautiful.

On the new, I've started a new book! Normally, that's not quite such an event. Usually, when people ask (as they always do) "So, are you writing a book at the moment?" I answer, "Always." That hasn't really changed. In the process of moving back to England from Canada, I've finished one book, begun and completed another, and written a short novella. None of it has quite been in my "zone", however, which is where I like to write, especially over the earlier part of November when I was rambling around England in the company of dashing young men in regimentals.

Where's my zone? In my study, at my old DOS computer, sitting in my Aeron chair (all shown here part way through unpacking) amid a generally stable and peaceful life.

So when I say I started a book, I mean all of the above, and with a good chance of it continuing. Believe me, my creative process is chaotic enough; I don't need any extra rattling!

The new book is a Georgian. It's not directly connected to my Malloren books, but characters from other books might turn up. I have no idea. I fly into the mist, ie -- I don't pre-plot my books.

I've been blogging for years in a couple of places, and one is my Blogger spot called Minepast, where I put any tid-bit of history I stumble across. I never used to know what to do with them. Now I do.

Here's an entry from a while back.

I was researching one of my Regency-set books, The Rogue's Return, one that started out in Canada. In seeking information about trans-Atlantic travel in 1816 I came across the diary of Laurent Leclerc, a young deaf man, who sailed from France to America and kept a diary in English in order to improve his use of the language. I found some of the events startling. So did he!

"I have forgotten to say in the beginning of my journal that we have in our ship different species of living animals for our daily nourishment, among which are six hogs, several ducks and several cocks and hens. We have also some canary birds to tickle the ears of the passengers by the agreeable sound of their singing. Ah well!! After dinner I was told that one was now going to kill a hog.

In truth, I saw two strong sailors seize the poor animal by his feet, throw him down and thrust a large knife in his neck. The blood flew and gushed-such a spectacle caused too much pain."

On another date, he wrote: "The interior of our ship abounds with mice. Now and then we see some running here and there. From time to time we kill some, and every day we hear them cry in their holes. They make a horrible ravage among our effects. They gnaw our books, papers, linen, clothes, provisions, etc. We have a cat, it is true, but she is so little that she cannot make war on them, and even if she were larger she would not know how to catch them, because she is spoiled and because she is nourished deliciously. She thus loses the taste of the most of the mice. Some one lately presented her with a dead mouse which she smelled and disdained. By way of retaliation our ducks are more warlike and courageous. We once threw a dead mouse upon deck and they pounced upon it, tore it in pieces, disputed over it and endeavored to eat it. And another time they swallowed, in a trice, several little mice which were put before them. I was extremely surprised at seeing that and I said that since ducks eat mice dead or live, doubtless we also eat mice when we eat ducks. I requested, therefore, that I should no more be served duck at dinner."

I love these glimpses into lives of the past. Do you know any unusual on-line diaries you could share?

Cheers,

Jo
There's always more on my web site.

The Art of Letter Writing

The art of letter writing was something that people in previous centuries worked on and brought to perfection. Ladies of leisure really looked forward to receiving letters from their loved ones, because, of course, it was often the only way of keeping in touch. The arrival of a letter was anticipated and seen as something very exciting, and the execution of these letters would have been beautiful. In the last of the A Season in Town series, the heroine is a great letter writer and it is part of the reason for what happens to her.

Next month I am going to begin a story told for you in letters, which will run for some months I expect. Because my posting day has been moved to 27th of the month there doesn't seem much point in doing a Christmas story for you here. However, I may do one on my new Anne Herries Regency blog. www.anneherriesregency.blogspot.com. I also have a new Regency group, which anyone can join, authors and readers. You can find the group if you go to the blog.

At the blog you will find excerpts, a competition and the group details.
Love to all, Anne Herries

Willoughby's Return - Blog Tour and Interviews

I've been having a lovely time on my blog tour for the launch of Willoughby's Return. Here's an interview I had with Barbara from Everything Victorian and More. Thank you Barbara, I really enjoyed the interview!

1. What inspired you to write about the main character?

I’ve always had a soft spot for Marianne Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility. She’s a heroine who wears her heart on her sleeve and never loves by halves. In Jane Austen’s book Marianne has two great love affairs – firstly, with the dashing Mr Willoughby, who ignites the feelings of her first great passion but who lets her down badly, and secondly, with Colonel Brandon, an older, steadier man who is the real hero, the one she marries. The ending of Sense and Sensibility surprises some readers who can’t believe that Marianne really loves the Colonel enough to marry him. This intrigued me, and the fact that she is a character we easily identify with – I’m sure most people have known a Willoughby at some stage in their lives, but have been able to move on and find lasting, true love with somebody who really suits them. Colonel Brandon has also suffered from the disappointment of a first love and I wanted to explore not only their relationship but also how the impact of those first attachments might affect their lives together.

2. What is your favorite line from this book?

Gosh, what a good question! This is a difficult one, but when Marianne meets Willoughby again and has to be escorted into dinner by him she finds herself in a very difficult situation. Here’s the line: Despite purposefully leaning as far away from him as she was able, she could not help but be aware of his nearness, and of his smell, emanating like an elixir from a bygone age, mingled into a potpourri of fragrant images from the past.

3. When did you know you wanted to be a writer and how long have you been developing your craft?

I was a very small girl when I first started writing, but then I wanted to write and illustrate children’s books. I still have a series of little books about the ‘Smiles Family’ that I made when I was about eight or nine. I think it’s taken a lifetime to develop my craft and I’m still learning now!


4. Is reading a large part of your life? Which book/books made the biggest impact on your writing?

Of course Jane Austen is a huge influence. Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and all of her books have made the biggest impact. But I also love any books by Frances Hodgson Burnett, (The Making of a Marchioness) Edith Wharton, (The Age of Innocence) and Fanny Burney (Evelina) to name but a few of my favourite writers. There are so many wonderful books out there that it’s hard to choose. Writers of the past rather than the present are my biggest influence because those are the books I tend to prefer – I love the quality of writing that you get in an older book.

5. Who is your favorite writer?

No contest – Jane Austen. Her books have been the pleasure of my life and the reason I have become a published writer. She is recognised now as a genius, but I wish she had known in her lifetime how her writing would eventually be regarded - how much her work is revered and loved today!

6. Does storytelling run in your family?

We all enjoy a good book or story. My parents encouraged us to read and told stories when I was young. I hope I’ve passed this love of storytelling to my children. My husband is a brilliant storyteller – I think he’d write a marvellous book.

7. When creating the story, which is the most difficult, the beginning, middle, or ending?

The middle is the most difficult for me, most definitely. I think you have to be able to keep the reader interested in turning the pages and keeping up the momentum being careful not to give too much away too early and tying it all up too soon before you get to the end.

8. What is the writing process like for you? Are you a morning person or night person? Do you have a special place you like to go to for inspiration? What energizes you?

I am a morning person, but that can mean very early morning. Sometimes, I wake at three in the morning with an idea, and I have to write it down because if I don’t I’ll forget it before I wake up again the next day. I think I must be solving problems in my sleep because this happens quite a lot. There is something lovely about writing in the early hours when there is no one about – my little writing room is next door to my bedroom so it’s very easy to pop in there and switch on the computer. I love my room, I am so lucky to have one all of my own. It’s lined with books, and filled with objects, pictures and paintings that I love. I have a desk before the window and watch all the world pass by whilst I’m writing. It’s great inspiration.

9. What advice would you have for emerging writers?

Keep striving to learn how you can improve your writing, and read, read read! Remember why you started writing in the first place when you get bogged down with problems – that’s sometimes forgotten when you are in pursuit of getting published and you’ve just received a rejection letter.

10. What is the most rewarding thing about being a writer?

I sometimes get to meet the people who have read my books – I can’t tell you the thrill it is when someone tells me or writes to tell me that they enjoyed a particular book. I indulge myself in my favourite activity on a daily basis and also get to spend huge chunks of the day in another century in Jane Austen’s world (or my version of it, at least) – what more could anyone wish?

The very lovely Anne Herries also interviewed me for the Red Roses for Authors blogspot. Thank you, I really enjoyed your questions!

If you'd like to catch up on my blog tour, please visit my blog, Jane Austen Sequels.

Willoughby's Return - Sense and Sensibility continues...Odiwe's elegantly stylish writing is seasoned with just the right dash of tart humor, and her latest literary endeavor is certain to delight both Austen devotees and Regency romance readers. John Charles - Booklist

Jane Odiwe

Mr Edward Comely, deceased

My last post was about a lawyer’s detailed expenses claim for a journey to London which several people said they found interesting, so here is a much more gloomy, but still fascinating bill – for the funeral of Mr Edward Comely.

Edward Comely was buried in the Gray’s Inn New Burial Ground on April 16th 1811 after dying on the 11th in the parish of St Andrews Holborn Hill, London. His funeral was “performed” by Samuel Page, Undertaker, Auctioneer and Appraiser of High Holborn.

Given the short time at his disposal, Mr Page did Edward Comely proud. He was buried in “A strong Elm coffin with fine Black Serge close drawn with double rows of the best Japanned Nails, a Double Flowered Plate with Urn and large escutcheons with Wrought Handles.” That cost £5.10s

Within that Edward was dressed in a “Fine crape Shroud with cap” (18s) and laid on a “Fine Crape Mattress and pillow” (12s)

For providing a Mourning Coach and hearse, each with a pair of horses, the charge was 12s but in addition to that there was a 2s for the coachmen’s cloaks and 10s for hatbands and gloves for the men.

“2 Porters in proper dresses to stand at the door and walk in Procession” cost 12s with 10s for their hatbands and gloves. The four men who carried the coffin were charged at a rate of 10s and they were equipped with mourning cloaks, hatbands, hoods and scarves. One of Mr Page’s men attended the funeral, suitably garbed (at extra cost) and the gravediggers charged 5s.

All this totalled £13 2s 6d while the charge for the service “etc” was £4 7s and the minister received £1 9s.

At a time when a butler in a great house might earn £60 to £80 and a footman £25 to £35 a year, you could get dead drunk on gin for 2d and pay 6d for a place in the pit at the Opera a bill of £18 18s 6d suggests that Mr Comely must have been a man of comfortable means – a merchant perhaps. I wonder if his executors queried that £4. 7s for the service and "etc" though - I'd be very suspicious!

Heart of Stone

When a new book comes out it's always a frantically busy time. We need to let the public know the book is available through different types of publicity: this blog for example. Because I write Cornwall-based historical romance a press release to the local weekly papers and glossy monthly and bi-monthly magazines is another opportunity. A copy also goes to BBC Cornwall. This paid off particularly well a week ago when I was invited onto the afternoon show to do a live 15-minute interview. Because it was going out live I spent the entire morning preparing - writing notes about the characters and the background (a granite quarry inherited by my heroine and a badly scarred hero who manufactured gunpowder.) I included a page from the book to read out as a "taster" and some bits of information that I found interesting and thought listers might too.
The interviewer was terrific. When he phoned me to set up the interview he apologised for not having read the book. Actually, I hadn't expected him to: so many interviews, so little time. Once we were on air he asked me about my life as a writer and about the background to this story. Then I read the page. All too soon my time was up and I hadn't had an opportunity to tell him about the origins of saltpetre - one of the three constituents of gunpowder. From the late Middle Ages until the late C19th this vital ingredient was obtained from beneath dungheaps or from urine-soaked straw that was kept wet with more urine and left to rot for up to a year. The resulting crystals were washed out of the straw with water which was then evaporated, leaving behind crude saltpetre crystals. These would be further refined before being made available to the gunpowder makers. Because of the source of the material, saltpetre-makers were called Devil's Men or The Dark Men. Coming across facts like these is what makes research so fascinating.

Jane Jackson.

A Teasing Task

Like most writers, I’m fascinated by language. Some of the oldest forms in English are amongst the most evocative. What about these expressions, all derived from medieval hunting jargon?

• A sounder of wild boar
• A drift of pigs
• A shrewdness of apes
• A watch of nightingales
• A skulk of foxes
• An unkindness of ravens
• A murder of crows

Ages ago, I heard James Naughtie talking on the BBC Radio 4 Today Programme about this. He produced these, which I loved:

• A smear of journalists
• A pedant of Today Programme presenters

That made me start musing about romantic novelists. So far— deliberately excluding those that would be X-rated — I’ve come up with the suggestions below.

• A passion of romantic novelists
• An escape of romantic novelists
• A happiness of romantic novelists

and (I wonder why?)

• A vineyard of romantic novelists

I’m sure visitors to our blog will have lots of ideas here. I’d love to hear them.

Joanna

http://www.joannamaitland.com

The Importance of the Country House

    One of the classes I teach in the US is on the great country house, and how important it is to visit them.
    I also write contemporaries and if I can’t visit the place in question (I’ve set two books in LA, but not made it there yet) I find someone who has, to see if I have the “feel” right.
    While we can’t contact someone who lived there in Regency times, we can visit people who have visited it now. And we can read the impressions of people who lived there.
    The country house was the seat of power for the Regency nobleman. While he would visit London regularly, to attend Parliament, visit his man of business, attend social functions, even have his wife give birth there (the best accoucheurs preferred to remain in London), the country house was his home, and the base of everything he did.
    In those days, most of the power was in property and the land. Even the new industries depended on mineral resources and suitable locations. Most of the populace lived in the country and London was an exception. The largest city in Europe, maybe in the world, it was an aberration that didn’t reflect the way things were done in the rest of the country.
    Feudal structures lingered and the basis of power in the counties was the gentry. So to carry this forward and represent their influence and power, the great country houses were built.
    From Hardwick Hall, and several houses before it, the castle became virtually obsolete. Through the eighteenth century, Palladianism was the ideal, the familiar structure of a columned portico and a series of great state rooms was adhered to. Blenheim was built by “A grateful nation” for John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough. His wife, Sarah, complained that it wasn’t a practical house because the kitchens and dining room were so far apart, but that was dealt with in later structures by having a smaller preparation room close to the dining room, so food could be heated up and finishing touches added.
    The state rooms, first in a line, “enfilade” and later in a circular layout, formed the heart of the house. Not where the family lived, but where they entertained and met the people they needed to impress. Without that, the status of the family and the whole of the local gentry would be depressed.
    In modern books set in the Regency, the country house is often neglected in favour of London life. I’d love to see more stories set in places like Longleat, Chatsworth and Holkham.
    When I write a book set in a country house, I use a particular house as a model, but I change its name, and occasionally its location. In “Yorkshire” I used Calke Abbey as a patterncard for Hareton Abbey, and moved it a few miles north, from Derbyshire to Yorkshire. I might try to blog about that at a later date because it was the most remarkable house I’ve ever visited!

USA Today bestseller!

Wonderful news this week, because our very own Nicola Cornick is on the USA Today bestseller list with her Christmas anthology, Heart of Christmas. It's a fabulous book, and a treat for all Christmas stockings!

Seed Time and Harvest

Nov 7 (1812)
The land is now more firm than it has been for some time. I have drilled nine acres Upper stoney & finished sewing Wheat yesterday in Grassy peice, nearly the whole of which I have drilled & have done 4 or 5 acres of my pea land over again; I fear Sweetendiness will be a very deficient plant. I had lodged 43 wether sheep in Hillyfield & last night 3 were slaughtered, the Offal and carcases taken away. I sowed 10 stretches of white wheat hither side of Nine acres & on the thirteenth stretch from the side began to sow 1 Quarter of Buncle wheat I bought of Freesland. Grassy piece is sowed with Day's Wheat except about 3 rods to Woody piece.

I love this diary entry. It would seem that this farmer either moved at the speed of Superman or when he refers to himself he actually means his farmworkers. Day's Wheat is probably seed he got from someone with that name, but I've no idea what Sweetendiness is. What a fabulous name for something - I think it could be a type of pea plant.

Today my novella, Lady Charlotte's Secret, should be in all major supermarkets and WH Smiths. Look in the My Weekly Pocket Novel container which is usually on the top shelf of the magazine section. Unfortunately my author copies haven't arrived because of the postal disruption so I can't show you the cover.
Two Gentlemen From London, which came out on the 31st of October, is available from Amazon, Book Depository and the Robert Hale website. Don't forget most UK libraries will order the book if you request it .
Fenella Miller

In the steps of the Romantics!

On my recent trip to Scotland I did some historical sightseeing with a difference! On a beautiful sunny and calm day we embarked on a small fishing boat for a trip to the island of Staffa.

It took about an hour to reach Staffa from Mull, where we were staying. The island is uninhabited and is now in the care of the National Trust for Scotland. It was originally formed 60 million years ago as a result of violent volcanic activity. Staffa’s magnificent basalt cliffs, which resemble enormous organ pipes, were created when liquid rock cooled and hardened into columns. The sea caves for which Staffa is also famous were formed when the sea wore away the soft volcanic ash at the base of the columns. The name “Staffa” comes for an Old Norse word meaning wooden building staves which suggests that like modern tourists, the Vikings also marvelled at Staffa’s basalt columns.

Staffa was farmed during the late 18th century and the ruins of several stone structures on the island suggest that people either lived there permanently or seasonally. The island was first brought to the attention of the wider world in 1772 by the famous botanist Joseph Banks, who wrote: “Compared to this what are the cathedrals and palaces built by men! Mere models or playthings, imitations as his works will always be when compared to those of nature.” It was Banks who coined the name “Fingal’s Cave.” This was a reference to the then fashionable Macpherson’s Ossian, the tale of the great deeds of the Gaelic hero Fingal, a bestselling epic poem, which was later proved to be a forgery. The poem was discredited but the name of Fingal’s Cave stuck!

Banks’s “discovery” of the island coincided with the spread of the Romantic Movement across Europe with its emphasis on wilderness, emotion and natural splendour. Staffa soon became one of the “must-see” sights of Scotland. Samuel Johnson and James Boswell attempted to land on Staffa during their tour of the Hebrides in 1773 but were beaten back by heavy seas. Fingal’s Cave went on to become a place of pilgrimage for the Romantics: William Wordsworth, John Keats, Sir Walter Scott, JMW Turner and Felix Mendelssohn all visited and were moved to write, paint or in Mendelssohn’s case create a piece of music inspired by the island. The island proved so popular with visitors that in the 19th century a romantic-style folly was built to provide some shelter and a place to rest and eat. This is in ruins now but it’s possible to imagine Regency and Victorian visitors huddled within its walls when the weather turned stormy and I did think what a wonderful setting it would make for a book!

We followed the walkway along the cliffs and entered the cave, which is a hugely impressive 250 feet long and 70 feet high. The sound of the sea crashing on the rocks does indeed mimic music and it was an awe-inspiring place. This photo shows Monty, our intrepid sea-dog, admiring the view outside the cave! Unfortunately, by the time we got back to the boat, the wind had changed and the tide was creating big waves that were driving onshore. We had to choose our moment to leap back into the boat, arguably the most exciting part of the trip! All in all though it was worth it to see the majestic splendour of Staffa’s cliffs, to stand in the spot that had inspired the poets, writers and musicians of the Romantic Movement and to hear the sound of the sea that had suggested to Felix Mendelssohn the music of the Hebrides Overture.

Book Covers

My lovely romantic comedy, The Dream Chasers has a new life and a new cover with Regency Reads. When I re-read this book again prior to e-publication, I realised why I love it so much. It is a sparkling romance with our heroine tumbling from one scrape into another, but finally coming up with a solution to suit everyone! You can find it at http://www.regencyreads.com/

The new cover is on the right: which one do you prefer? The original cover does show my heroine in boys' clothing, and her hero's carriage approaching, BUT in the story she is hiding in a tree at this point! As for the new cover - the costume is about the right period (although my Eustacia is a red-head), also the story moves from Bath to London, and the background reminds me more of Derbyshire. But hey-ho, they say one should never just a book by its cover.

"All the required ingredients of a Regency romance… skilfully written" (Historical Novel Society)

When Vivyan Lagallan decides that it is time to settle down, Fate has other ideas, and one last adventure literally drops into his arms in the form of the spirited Miss Eustacia Marchant. Eustacia is determined to marry Rupert Alleyne, while Vivyan is engaged to the beautiful and highly respectable Helen Pensford. Into this volatile mixture comes Vivyan's adventuring colleague Nathan MacCauley, intent on making a respectable alliance. As the delightful heroine tumbles from one scrape into another, the ensuing tangle threatens the happiness of them all, unless Eustacia's final, audacious plan succeeds! In this enchanting romance we meet again the characters from Melinda Hammond's earlier novel, Autumn Bride as well as delightful new characters in a plot that carries the reader at breathtaking speed to its final, surprising conclusion.

This book continues the story of Vivyan Lagallan, a secondary character from an earlier book, Autumn Bride: when I re-read The Dream Chasers I found myself thinking that it might be fun to follow the rogue, Nathan MacCauley, to find out just what happened to him!
Melinda Hammond

The excitement never changes

The paperback of THE LOVEDAY CONSPIRACY as published by Headline on 29th October. It is the tenth in the Loveday Series and my thirtieth published novel. I still get the same thrill today seeing a novel in print as I did the first time. I could not imagine my world without writing in it and feel very priviledged that so many readers are loyal to me. Even before publication date it reached 8 in the Amazon Top 20 Historical chart. My brain was a whirling Dervish of excitement all week.


Here is an extract from THE LOVEDAY CONSPIRACY that I hope you will enjoy. For new readers this is the story background in the earlier books of the series - Japhet Loveday was falsely accused of highway robbery by Sir Pettigrew Osgood, found guilty and transported to th enew penal colony at Sydney Cove. He is now back in England and wants revenge. His cousin Adam also wants revenge on the man he blames for his twin’s death.

Cornwall 1802.
Japhet dismounted and flung the reins at a young groom. Gwendolyn came out of the house and waited for him. There was a look on her lovely face that warned him she had seen through his ruse. He should have known that nothing missed his wife’s concerned eye.
‘Another dawn ride, husband. The fifth in three weeks.’
‘I could not sleep. The horses need their exercise.’ He dragged his fingers through his black hair that lapped over his collar; unfashionably long, it added to his roguish features and his hazel eyes could melt a woman’s heart by their smouldering intensity.
‘With a sword strapped to your saddle?’ Her colour was high as she voiced her anger. Her features were striking rather than beautiful, but Japhet had known many beautiful women who had left his heart cold. Gwen had won his love by her courage and faith that the character of a rogue and reprobate he showed to the world but masked more noble sentiments beneath. That faith had saved him in his darkest hours and given him the strength to prove that she was right. Though there were times when he wished his wife did not know him so well. There was resignation in her eyes when she continued. ‘Are these meetings with Adam? I can guess their purpose.’
He shrugged and gave a reassuring grin. ‘Adam and I always practised our swordplay in the old days. It is a sport we both enjoy.’
‘And I doubt either of you are doing this for old times’ sake. You promised me you would not pursue Osgood.’ She was trembling in her distress.
Japhet took his wife into his arms. ‘I would not break my word to you, Gwen.’
She pulled back from him, her eyes accusing, and her skin pale against the rich chestnut of her hair. ‘But this swordplay is not innocent. Adam is capable of calling out Tristan. And you…. You will not let Osgood escape your justice, will you? But we have been home for just a few months.’ Her voice rose in alarm.
‘A gentleman should never neglect his fencing skills.’ Japhet was deliberately flippant.
She struck his chest with her fist. ‘Do not humour me. I know what you plan. If not this week, this month, this year, or the foreseeable future, but you will not let this matter rest. Forget Osgood. He is a cowardly knave.’
‘I am not the only one of our family whom Osgood planned to ruin. Adam said that Osgood’s lecherous eye also singled out my cousin’s half-sister, Tamasine, during a visit she had made to London. When she refused his advances Osgood had tried to abduct her. Fortunately, Tamasine had been rescued by Maximillian Deverell – the man she later married.’
‘But that was years ago when you were still on ship to the penal colony.’ She breathed heavily in her exasperation. ‘Tamasine had been staying in London with cousin Thomas. He called Osgood out. Family honour is satisfied. He even scarred the knave’s face in the duel. Since then little had been heard of the baronet. He retired to his country seat to hide his disfigurement.’
‘And he was there until last year.’ Japhet announced. ‘He has since disappeared – rumoured to have gone abroad. So you see your fears are in vain. He is out of reach.’
Her stare searched his and showed no sign of being reassured. ‘Promise me that you will not seek him out.’
He took her into his arms and his voice was husky and seductive. ‘Have I not promised that I will live quietly and concentrate on establishing a racing stables and stud? That is my intention.’ Hi s hand stroked her cheek and his gaze lingered upon her lips before capturing them with his own. There was the briefest resistance before she surrendered to his kiss and he felt her body melt against him. Then with a sigh she pulled away. ‘I will not be sidetracked by sweet words and caresses, my love. Say you will not go after Osgood?’ When he did not immediately answer, she gripped the front of his greatcoat, her eyes beseeching. ‘Promise me, Japhet.’
He cupped her lovely face gently in his hands. ‘I certainly have no intention of going off on a wild goose chase hunting him down. But I will make you no false promises, Gwen. If Osgood crosses my path then that is a different matter. But he is not likely to search me out. He has proved himself too craven for that.’
He kissed her until he felt her anger melt and the tension leave her body. ‘Do you think that I would risk all that we have for that knave? I am no longer the hothead, the reckless rakehell. You and our sons and this stud farm are what is important.’ His arms held her tight but over the top of her head, his stare was uncompromising.
When the time was right Osgood would face his retribution and pay for his treachery.

Kate Tremayne

Jo Beverley, a book tour to launch a line.

Thanks to the Historical Romance UK blog for letting me post as a guest here.

I was born and raised in Lancashire, but I've lived in Canada since 1976, and my books have been published in New York. Which is lovely, but I've always wanted one published in the UK, and finally it's happened. To make it even more wonderful, the release of Lady Notorious (My Lady Notorious in North America) is happening just as I'm settling back home.

Because I'm here, my UK publisher has put together a small book tour to launch their new line of romantic historicals and my book, which is officially published on Wednesday.

Lady Notorious takes place in 1763. Lady Chastity Ware is a social outcast, confined to a cottage on her father's estate near Shaftesbury, but when her widowed sister flees to her for help, bringing her very young baby, Chastity is determined to get her to Maidenhead and safety.

So she steals a coach.

But the man in the coach is Captain Lord Cynric Malloren, bored with convalescence and ready for adventure. He insists on taking part. -- or taking over, as Chastity sees it. She soon has to admit that he comes in useful when they realized they not only have a villain after them, but the army as well.

My publisher's brilliant idea was to set my tour to follow their route, visiting some of the eighteenth century inns in the novel. That will take me to Shaftesbury, Salisbury, Winchester, a detour to Southampton, and Maidenhead. You can check out all the details here. There's a special evening launch event in Salisbury on Wednesday. It's free, but the room in the old coaching inn can only hold a few people, so it's important to book a place by e-mailing enquiries@everlyn.net

Lady Notorious was originally published by Penguin-NAL of New York, and won a RITA award, the top award of Romance Writers of America. It's appeared on many "best historical romance" lists.

Reviews said:
“Beverley beautifully captures the flavour of Georgian England.”
American Library Journal.
“Delightfully spicy…skilfully plotted and fast-paced…captivating.”
Booklist.
“…sensitive prose, charismatic and expert plotting will keep readers
enthralled from first page to last.” Publishers weekly.

There's a stop in Cardiff, and then after a break I hit my home territory of the north, including Blackpool, where I went to grammar school; Morecambe, where I was born and raised; and Whitby, where I now live. The other stops are Stockton, Newcastle, Scarborough, and Leeds. Again, the details are all at the link above.

The other launch book is Fallen Angel (Thunder and Roses in the US) by my good friend, Mary Jo Putney. You can find out about all the upcoming books at Everlyn's web site.

I do hope to meet more of my UK fans and make contact with new readers, too.

There's an extract from Lady Notorious on my website here. It's from the US original, so there may be some US spellings in there. Lady Notorious has been put into proper English usage.

A question -- what do you think is the defining characteristic of the 18th century and the Regency as a setting for romance in the past?

Jo

Halloween Quiz

There's a fun quiz for Halloween over on the Mr Darcy, Vampyre blog and a chance to win a copy of the book, so why not come on over? See you there!

Amanda Grange

Willoughby's Return, Publication Day, November 1st, and Blog Tour

There's just about a week left before the official release of Willoughby's Return, which is very exciting. I've been thrilled to receive my author copies from Sourcebooks - it's wonderful to hold the book in my hands at last!

I'm doing a blog tour which I'm looking forward to very much - I hope you will join me.
Smexy Books 26/10/09
Psychotic State blogspot 27/10/09
Jane Austen's World 10/11/09
Book Nerd Extraordinaire 2/11/09
Everything Victorian 3/11/09
Savvy, Verse and Wit 4/11/09
A Bibliophile's Bookshelf 5/11/09
The Bookworm Blogspot 6/11/09
Books Like Breathing9/11/09
Fresh Fiction12/11/09
Love, Romance, Passion 11 & 13/11/09
I'm going to be doing interviews and 'talking' about the inspiration behind the book, as well as my artwork, which I must admit has been a little neglected of late. In celebration of the publication there will be some new paintings, some fun stuff, quizzes and the like, as well as prizes! So keep an eye open on my blog Jane Austen Sequels from November 1st!

I loved writing about the relationship between Marianne and her husband Colonel Brandon. They love one another deeply, but are often guilty of not communicating (in a very English way) on subjects that are dear to their hearts. What people say to one another and what they keep back is a fascinating subject for me. I thought the relationship that the Colonel shares with his ward Miss Williams alongside the relationship with her child who is also Willoughby's daughter would create a certain tension between them. Punctuated by outbursts from Marianne followed by silences on the subject as she listens to her sister's advice, I felt the conflicts would most likely end in reserve and avoidance.
Margaret Dashwood is just the age for falling in love - her story is woven in with Marianne's. Will Margaret find her true love within the pages of Willoughby's Return?

Jane Odiwe

The Mistress of Hanover Square

The third in the Hanover Square series is now showing up on amazon, though it doesn't actually come out until January. At the moment the next publication is the double volume of Society Affairs with another author. For me this is the republication of my RNA prize winning book, A Damnable Rogue but I think for the other author it is a first publication. I am not sure why this happens sometimes. I am sure she would wish for a separate book but I hope it does well for her sake, especially if it is a first publication.

I am thinking ahead to Christmas now, because Nicola mentioned her Christmas books, which are always good. The members of this group usually do a Christmas story for our readers, either together or separately. What I am thinking of doing is a fourt part story, which I shall publish on the blog, perhaps starting in November or maybe all in December.

Christmas always looks so special when you see the period costumes, the skaters and the snow falling. I love cards with the old fashioned look and so I enjoy doing a special little story for our readers here. I am hoping we shall have some of those lovely cards on the blog at Christmas that Jane does or just some of her motifs.

If anyone has an opinion about the story - whether it should all be December or spread out a bit please leave a comment. Meanwhile I shall leave you with a picture of the last of the Hanover Square books.

Love to you all, Anne Herries

On the Road

Like many historical authors I spend a lot of time puzzling over how long journeys would take, how people got from A to B and how much it would cost.

Imagine my delight when I found an expenses claim from a lawyer called Jonathan Oldman to Sir John Musgrave of Edenhall, near Penrith, for a journey from Edenhall to Kempton Park via London in December 1795.

Helpfully, Mr Oldman took a variety of conveyances – the stage, a post chaise, the Mail and hackney carriages in London - so I was able to discover that a post chaise, its driver, the turnpike charges and food along the way cost £6 14s from Edenhall to York. He then changed to the stage coach to London which cost 3 guineas plus 4s 6d for tipping the drivers and 5s 6d for his luggage with 11s 6d for food along the way.

It is difficult to pick out the detail of his expenses in London because he lumps some of them together, but a night at the White Horse, Fetter Lane cost 6s and he then tipped the chamber maid, the waiter, paid for shaving water and caught a hackney to the Chertsey stage and that cost him 4s 11d in total.

The stage coach and driver’s tip from London to Kempton Park was a mere 5s each way.
On his way back he incurs £1 14s 8d in “sundry expenses” which suggests that perhaps he took the opportunity for a little fun – or perhaps I am maligning a sober lawyer. Certainly his laundry wasn’t included in that – it cost him 5s 6d.

Jonathan Oldman took the Mail home, travelling from London to Penrith at a cost of £5 with £1 for luggage and £1 7s 9d for tips and food. Overall his employer was out of pocket to the tune of £17 19s for his expedition.

I’d love to know what necessitated the journey and it is fun to imagine what a Cumbrian lawyer would have thought if he knew that a romance author would be poring over his expenses claim over two hundred years after he submitted it.

Louise Allen

Halloween blog tour for Mr Darcy, Vampyre

I'm going on a blog tour in the second half of October for Halloween. These are the dates and destinations:

19th A Bibliophile’s Bookshelf
20th Fang-tastic Books
21st Night Owl Romance
22nd Romance Junkies
23rd Pop Syndicate’s Book Addict

26th Anna’s Book Blog
27th A Journey of Books
28th Fresh Fiction
29th The Book Faery

For a new extract, check out Twitter in the week of Halloween.

The celebrations will finish with a quiz on the Mr Darcy, Vampyre blog on the 30th.

Hope to see you there!

Amanda Grange

Heart of Stone

I'm delighted to announce publication on 1st November of my latest historical romance, Heart of Stone. This is my 26th novel, a powerful passionate story, and one I loved writing.

In 1840’s Cornwall 25-year-old Sarah Govier supports herself and her illegitimate son, Jory, on the income from Talvan, the granite quarry she inherited from her father. But businessman Kinser Landry has good reason for wanting Talvan and will stop at nothing to get it. With her problems mounting, Sarah turns in desperation to James Crago, a gunpowder manufacturer who owns land adjoining hers.
After twenty years as soldier and diplomat in India, Crago, 37, returned home, his face horrifically scarred, a wound sustained during his attempt to help the girl he loved escape a despotic raja. Local reaction to his appearance has turned him into a recluse.
Rejected by society, emotionally bruised and deeply wary, neither Sarah nor James is prepared for the powerful attraction that erupts between them. Will they survive the plots against them? Can they overcome the past? Find the courage to love again?


Heart of Stone by Jane Jackson is published by Severn House, price £18.99. Available direct from Severn House or Amazon.co.uk

Celebrity watching, 1814 style

A few days ago, Nicola blogged with an extract from her story in Loves Me, Loves Me Not, the RNA's 50th Anniversary Short Story Anthology. Nicola’s story The Elopement is a wonderfully tongue-in-cheek tale that I’m sure everyone will enjoy.

My own story in the anthology takes place in London in 1814, during the celebrations for the end of the Napoleonic Wars. (London wasn’t to know that Napoleon would escape from Elba and start it all over again, of course.) The city was full of foreign royalty. Everyone, from the highest to the lowest, wanted to be able to see these illustrious visitors. Like today’s celebrity watchers, Londoners wanted to be able to tick off all the names on their lists. And that’s where the trouble starts…

The Trophy Hunter’s Prize

June 1814
After the searing brilliance of India, London seemed subdued, like a watercolour by a novice artist who had mixed his paints too thin. Andrew Mortimer shivered a little, in spite of the summer sunshine.

He straightened his elegant new coat and continued to stride down Piccadilly towards the park, where there should be open space, and fresher air to breathe. Before long, however, the dense crowds slowed him almost to a standstill. Yet they seemed good-humoured. With a nod here and a word of excuse there, he might make his way through.

‘’Ere! Wot d’you think y’re doing?’ cried a large florid woman when he tried to edge past her. She looked him up and down, noting the expensive clothes and the unusually brown skin. ‘Furriners,’ she muttered darkly. ‘Never did ’ave no manners.’

Still, she had made a little space for him to pass. Andrew managed to reach up to touch his hat and said, in his most affected English drawl, ‘Why, thank you, ma’am. Most kind.’ The woman’s jaw dropped. Very satisfying.

He had gone only a few yards further when he was forced to stop altogether. The huge crowd seemed to draw breath, as one, then it let out an ear-splitting roar and surged forward towards the Pulteney Hotel, carrying Andrew with it. He had to put all his efforts into keeping his balance. When he was at last able to look about him, he saw that the Tsar of Russia had appeared on the hotel balcony above them, which was clearly the reason for the lusty cheering. And, not three yards from where Andrew stood, a small figure in a pale dress was being trampled in the crush.

He yelled a warning. No one seemed to hear. If she was to be rescued, he would have to do it himself. He flung himself at the men who barred his path. He shouted at them. No reaction. There was just too much noise. As he pushed and pushed, his mouth came close enough to yell into one man’s ear. The man moved a fraction.

Andrew forced his body through the tiny gap. He could almost touch her now. Just a yard or so more. Her muslin skirt was spread across the filthy roadway. How was it that these men did not realise the harm they were doing?

They were all gazing up at the Tsar, their arms raised, their mouths open to bellow their delighted approval of the hero who had defeated the tyrant Bonaparte. The London mob had made its choice of the young and virile Emperor of Russia over their own fat, frivolous Regent.

Andrew was close enough now to see her. She was dirty, young, and frightened. She seemed to be screaming for help. But he could hear nothing. With a huge effort, Andrew shouldered aside two men who were in danger of treading on the girl. He reached down, grabbed the little figure by the arms, and heaved.

Nothing. He redoubled his efforts and heaved again.

It was like pulling a difficult cork. One moment her body was stuck fast. The next it had popped out and Andrew was toppling backwards with her. But he did not fall. The wall of people held him upright.

In his arms, the girl was still screaming and now, with her head against his shoulder, he could hear it very well. It hurt. He used his chin to nudge aside her broken straw bonnet and put his lips against her ear. ‘Pray hush. You are safe now, I promise you.’

She uttered one final, piercing scream. Then putting her mouth against his ear, she cried, ‘Safe? You are like to ruin me, you numbskull. Look at my gown.’

He looked down. Her skirt still lay spread on the ground in a drift of filthy muslin pinioned by enormous boots. Like pressed flower petals edged with footprints. The lady in his arms was dressed in little more than a shift, and torn stockings.


The girl in the ruined dress is Kate de Lacey, named for Little Black Dress author and RNA stalwart, Kate Lace, to whom my story is dedicated. But if you want to know what happens to my Kate, you’ll need to buy the book. You won’t regret it if you do; it’s a gorgeous collection and I’m very proud to be part of it.

Best wishes and happy reading
Joanna
http://www.joannamaitland.com

Covent Garden

The book I’m currently working on has a lot of scenes set in a house of ill repute in Covent Garden. So off to the research I went.
I loved doing it. I could visit Covent Garden as it is now on a recent visit to London and then go home and read and read.
Covent Garden was originally the garden to a convent, but that is long gone. The current layout was designed by Inigo Jones in the 1630’s, designed as an upmarket residential area with fine houses and an open piazza in the middle.

It never really caught on as an area for the rich to live in, but it became a playground for them instead.
In the early mornings, Covent Garden was a market for fresh produce. London was surrounded by market gardens, which grew the vegetables and fruit that fed the population of the largest city in the world. Every morning, carts would bring in the produce, and sell it to the populace. Housewives, maids, servants in large houses, owners of the eating houses, would turn up to buy it, and until very recently, they still did. Congestion put an end to Covent Garden Market, but in the mid eighteenth century, it was going strong.
Later in the day, the market gave way to the nightlife. With the two biggest theatres in London nearby, the piazza could be thronged with traffic, taking people to Drury Lane or the Opera, and picking them up again afterwards.

And then there was the shadier side. Many of the houses surrounding the piazza, and some of the smaller places were houses of ill repute. Brothels. They catered to most tastes, and half of fashionable society – the male half – would frequent the area in search of not so innocent enjoyment. Not only brothels, but places of bawdy entertainment and gaming hells. Gambling in Georgian England has often been described as a disease, with fortunes passing over the tables, whether it was in the salons, the coffeehouses or the hells.
One book helps modern researchers enormously. Harris’s List was a best seller of the Georgian age. It was a guidebook to London – with a difference. It was constantly updated and featured ladies of the night. All except the unfortunates who walked the streets, too numerous to account for and not the kind of woman the average London tourist would be interested in.
So my hero visits a place called Mother Brown’s. It did exist, but not in the house I chose for it, and not with the same reputation. Mother Brown’s is the best, and is a gaming house as well as a brothel. The tables are “straight,” and God help anyone who tries to mark the cards or weight the dice!
Lynne Connolly

Emma

I am hugely enjoying the new BBC adaptation of Emma. I wasn't sure if I was going to like it after episode 1, because there are always niggles with any production, but episode 2 won me over completely. I love the way Sandy Welch has interpreted the characters. Emma and Mr Knightley spar like Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant, giving a screwball comedy edge to the production at times which is fresh and funny.

I wrote my own interpretation with Mr Knightley's Diary but I'm really loving someone else's take on things. I wish Emma wouldn't slouch so much, but slouching aside, I find her very likeable. What's more, she's very different to the other Emmas, and that's hard to do after so many. It's difficult to find a new way to approach the characters that still rings true.

Mr Elton is here very like Mr Collins, perhaps too much like Mr Collins at times, but I love the way he sits far too close to Emma in the carriage on the way to the party from which poor Harriet is excluded.

I liked Frank Churchill the moment I saw him, in fact he's shaping up to be my favourite Frank Churchill. Something about his face, his figure, his whole demeanour, is like a twinkle in the eye. Frank is out for fun, and thinking about the consequences will take second place to having a laugh, which is just the way Frank should be.

But it's Emma and Mr Knightley who steal the show. They spar and squabble, they make up and fall out, they play with the children, in short they seem made for each other, which is not something I've seen before. The only people who don't realise they are made for each other, at the moment, are themselves.

All in all, there is a real feel good quality to the production. The settings are lovely, the snowy scenes are pretty, the whole thing often looks good enough to eat.
Now if only Emma would stop slouching, my happiness would be complete :)

Amanda Grange

Two Gentlemen From London

My latest book from Robert Hale is released this month. On October 10th I will be at The Forum, Norwich, for an informal launch. As I have not received any copies of the book it's going to be very informal!! I have lots of earlier titles to sell, so do come along and see me if you are in the area.
This is the first few pages of Two Gentlemen From London - hope you enjoy it enough to order it from your local library.


'Miss Bentley, lawks a mussy! They're here. Young Fred saw the carriage turn into the lane not ten minutes ago.'
Annabel Bentley dropped the jar of bramble jelly she had been about place on the shelf in the pantry. 'After so long? I had thought Mama and I safe from him.' Stepping over the sweet mess on the flagstones she gathered up her skirts, calling over her shoulder as she ran. 'You and Tom know what to do; we have about thirty minutes before they arrive.'
How had he found them? They had been so careful these past years, had not even attended church or visited Ipswich themselves. Her heart pounding, she ran upstairs calling her mother.
'Mama, we are discovered. We must get organized or it will be too late.' She had hoped never to be reminded of that black time again.
Lady Sophia appeared from the south facing chamber she used for her studio, as usual she had paint streaks on her face and fingers. 'Are you quite certain, my love? I can hardly credit that monster has been able to find us.'
'Well, he has. Mary and Tom are putting on the holland covers, we have to clear your studio.'
In the beginning they had practiced this exercise several times, but as the months, and then the years, slipped by they had stopped rehearsing. However, the boxes were ready and it was the work of moments to fill them with the paraphernalia.

'Quickly, open the panel and I'll start taking things through.' Annabel tried to recall how long it was since she had checked their intended hiding place. It must be almost a year, the two secret rooms would be dust covered, but it was too late to worry about that. There was the clatter of footsteps and their servants arrived to disguise the bed chambers they had been occupying with covers.
'Miss Bentley, everything's ready downstairs, we shall have your rooms done in a trice. Fred is moving the horses, I reckon we'll be prepared in good time.'
'This room is finished; all we need is sufficient food and water for today and tomorrow. No doubt you will be obliged to offer accommodation tonight, but when he finds he's mistaken, he will surely leave first thing.'
'He'll not get a meal he'll enjoy tonight, I'll make sure of that.'
'Thank you, Mary. I cannot imagine why the three of you have stayed with us so long in this isolated place, but we could not have managed without you.'
'Bless you, miss, it's been our pleasure. You mustn't worry. If you and Lady Sophia get settled, we'll be up with what you need as soon as we've done here.'
Annabel stepped into the hidden passageway, relieved to see her mother had not been idle, the sconces were burning and she had sufficient illumination to fasten the panel behind her and to pick up one of the remaining boxes.
The passageways and narrow staircase led from top to bottom of the ancient mansion. The place had once been used by smugglers and although the exit to the beach had fallen into disuse years ago, it was still possible to get from the kitchen to the hidden apartment in the attic.
She followed the twists and turns without hesitation, it was fixed in her mind. She could hear her mother moving about ahead of her and guessed she would be setting up her easel.
'There you are, my love. I shall run back and fetch the last box whilst you check we have

everything we need up here. I fear the bed linen will be damp after so long.'
Annabel didn't bother to argue that she was younger and fitter and should be the one to go back, for it would be untrue. Her mother was barely eight and thirty, and she nineteen on her last name day, they would be taken for sisters if ever they appeared together in public.
These secret rooms had been constructed when the house was built. There was no way to enter them via the attics, the only panels that opened were in the room that had been used as a studio and the boot room in the basement. She walked across to the low doors that opened onto the roof.
She pulled them back and stepped out, knowing she could not be seen from below. Brandon Hall, originally built in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, now had a false edifice making it appear what it was not. Behind the brick frontage, hidden between two chimney breasts, was a space more than large enough to walk about. She carefully removed the brick that filled the peephole.
Her throat constricted and her hands clenched. Fred had not been mistaken. Already half way down the long curving drive was a smart, black travelling carriage. They had not received a visitor since they had joined Great-Aunt Beth, nobody knew they were there. It could only be her stepfather, Randolph Rushton, and his loathsome man of affairs.
A vivid flash of lightning split the sky. She counted, had reached five, when the thunder followed. The storm they had been anticipating all day would be upon them within the hour. She prayed the river that ran parallel to the lane would not flood, the last time it had done so it had been a week before the road was passable.
Her mother appeared at the door, her face pinched and pale. 'Come in, my dear, we must get ourselves settled whilst it is still light enough to do so. You know we cannot risk more than a single candle once it is dark.'
'Very well, Mama, the carriage will be here imminently. We can't move about once it arrives, you know how sound echoes down the passageway.'
*
The coach rocked violently. 'God's teeth! Sinclair, are you certain we have taken the correct turning?'
Colonel Robert Sinclair grinned at his companion. 'The yokel the coachman questioned a while ago directed us along this godforsaken track. It's your family we're visiting, Dudley, not mine, remember.'
'My sister said she lives in rural splendour, not that she lived somewhere as inaccessible as this.'
The horses slowed to a walk and Robert lowered the window. 'I can see something carved into the gatepost.' He leant out and could just make out some letters under the verdigris. 'Yes, it's definitely Brandon Manor.' He shouted up to the coachman. The groom sitting next to him on the box, hung precariously over the edge to listen. 'This is it. The drive is in no better state than the lane. Take it carefully, I don't want my horses lamed.'
'Very well, Colonel, we'll take it steady.'
The driver waved his whip in acknowledgement and Robert resumed his place on the squabs. This was turning out to be a more interesting excursion than he'd anticipated. When Dudley had suggested a visit to darkest Suffolk to see his sister Amelia, he had agreed. Since Waterloo, and reduced to half pay, even a sojourn in the country seemed preferable to kicking his heels in town, and having too much time to dwell on his loss.
'I know your sister has been widowed, but surely her finances are not so parlous that the estate has fallen into disrepair?'
'To tell you the truth, I know little about Brandon Manor or her dead husband. She met and
married Sir John Barton whilst I was on the Peninsular with you fighting Napoleon. She has two

children, I misremember their names, but from what I recall, Barton was a young man with deep pockets. Amelia wouldn't have looked at him otherwise.'
Robert smiled. 'She always said she would marry money; but I'm surprised she chose someone who lives so remotely. I doubt she has much social life stuck out here in the back of beyond.'
The sky was rent by a sheet of lightning closely followed by the rumble of thunder. 'That's all we need, a storm. The going is too poor for us to make faster progress; I fear we're going to be caught in a downpour.'
'At least we will be well looked after when we arrive. Amelia keeps a good table. This journey has been beyond tedious, I cannot wait to stretch my legs and enjoy a decent meal.' Simon Dudley shuddered. 'The repast we were given last night beggars belief.'
'It didn't prevent you from finishing it,' Robert said dryly. The carriage dropped into another pothole tilting dangerously; he was catapulted from his seat. 'Dammit! That's the axle gone. God knows how we're going to get it fixed out here.'
He untangled himself from his friend and reached up to grasp the door which was now above his head. 'Did I hurt you?' Major Dudley shook his head. 'I must get out and help Jethro with the horses. We're still a mile from the house; I fear we're going to have to walk.'
The team might be in imminent danger of entangling themselves in the traces. He prided himself on having four incomparable matched bays and had no intention of letting any one of them injure themselves. Heaving himself upright he smashed the door open; he thrust through the opening to roll down the carriage to the ground.
His driver was before him and had his knife out to slice through the leather. There was
no sign of the groom. He ran to take hold of the bit of the lead horse, he pulled the animal's head
down and spoke soothingly until it calmed. 'Where's Billy?'

'I ain't had time to check, sir, he went over the side and I've not seen him since.'
There was the thump of boots as they hit the ground behind him. 'Dudley, my groom's hurt. Check on him.' He knew his friend wouldn't question his orders; after all he'd been following his commands during the years they had served together in the same regiment.
'A concussion, he's out cold, but his pulse's steady. How the devil are we going to get him to the house?'
'I can see help arriving; there's a pony and trap heading this way. I find it decidedly odd that Amelia can provide us with nothing better than that.'
Dudley shrugged. 'I suppose it might have been sensible to have informed her of our coming.'
'Good God! How did the regiment survive with you in charge of transport? I should not have agreed to accompany you, or use my carriage, if I had known we were not expected.'
The trap clattered to a halt beside them and an elderly retainer scrambled out, a younger version, obviously his son, close behind. 'It's going to rain something heavy any time now, sir, so we best get you to the hall before it do.'
Robert nodded. 'My groom is injured, take him and our bags. Major Dudley and myself will ride.' The man touched his cap and vanished to the far side of the tilted carriage to collect the patient. He was about to swing up on the horse he was holding when something the man had said made him stop. 'Is this Brandon Manor?'
The two servants staggered around, the comatose body between them. The older man answered. 'Bless you, sir, no it ain't. This is Brandon Hall. Brandon Manor is ten miles away, at Upper Brandon. This here place is Lower Brandon.'

Fenella Miller
www.fenellajmiller.co.uk
Miss Bennet & Mr Bingley is available from The Book Depository and Amazon for £11.99

Too Early for Christmas!

Nicola Cornick writes: It feels far too early for Christmas but clearly that’s not the case for publishers and booksellers. Last week, on a day that has been called Super Thursday, UK publishers launched 800 new books aimed at the Christmas bestseller lists!

As though to emphasise the fact that there are only 11 weeks to go, I received copies of my two US-published Christmas anthologies, The Heart of Christmas, which contains a reprint of the story The Season for Suitors and Together By Christmas which has the first print publication of my very short novella The Unmasking of Lady Loveless. Together by Christmas also features the wonderful story Mistletoe Masquerade by our own Louise Allen and it’s a great pleasure and lots of fun to be sharing an anthology with Louise!

October is novella month for me really as I am also very proud to have a short story, The Elopement, in the RNA’s anthology Loves Me, Loves Me Not. I’ve included a short extract from the story below.

That’s it for books from me until next summer, when MIRA will be publishing my Brides of Fortune trilogy in the UK. I’m currently working on a new trilogy for HQN so I’ll be beavering away on that and also hoping to have a bit more time for research trips, talks and visits to historic houses – starting with Duart Castle, which I’ll be visiting next week whilst on my holidays!

Extract from The Elopement:

“It was a fact universally acknowledged in the village of Marston Priors that Amanda, Lady Marston, although young, was the unchallenged arbiter of good manners.
“For,” as Mrs Duke said to Mrs Davy, “if Lady Marston feels it is inappropriate to travel even the shortest distance in a carriage without one’s personal maid, I am sure that you will never see me defying convention by going out alone.” Mrs Davy, who could not afford to employ a lady’s maid, agreed glumly.
It was therefore all the more surprising that on the morning of a fine April day the Marston household was rent by screams of shock and outrage emanating from Lady Marston’s bedchamber.
Amanda Marston had woken slowly and luxuriously that morning, as was her habit. She knew that the day was well advanced because Benson had drawn back the curtains and the spring sunshine was dappling the beautiful new Axminster carpet and drawing out all its rich and vivid colours. For a moment she lay still, admiring her taste in decoration. She knew she had an eye for design. It was one of her greatest accomplishments and showed impeccable judgment.
The scent of the hot chocolate lured her and she reached out a languid hand for the cup. Her fingers brushed the crisp parchment of the letter and she picked it up absent-mindedly, still mulling over whether the bed drapes required refurbishment and if so whether pale green would be an appropriate colour. And the material… Gauze, perhaps, although that might look dangerously like a harlot’s boudoir… Not that she knew anything of such things…
She read the first line of the letter with vague attention, the second with concentration and the third with outrage.
“My dear Amanda
It is with great pleasure that I can inform you that I have eloped with Mr Sampson. I have always hankered after participating in an elopement so you may imagine my pleasure now. I believe that the usual form of words on these occasions is: “Pray do not come after us.” I am of age several times over and know my own mind, so there is no point in either you or Hugo trying to fetch me back. Indeed, I hope you will both wish me happy. Your loving grandmother-in-law, Eleanor Pevensey.”
Amanda gave a shriek, an action that startled her as much as it did the footman on duty on the landing outside. Normally Amanda never screamed, not even in a ladylike manner over a dead mouse or small spider. Secretly she had always considered having the vapours to be a vulgar way of attracting attention to oneself. Now, however, she shrieked again as the true import of the letter struck her.
Lady Pevensey had eloped.
Lady Pevensey was entrusting herself and all her lovely fortune into the hands of a penniless curate.
Of all the outrages perpetrated by her husband’s seventy seven year old grandmother this was by far the most shocking. Lady Pevensey had been living at Marston Hall for six months and Amanda had found the old lady’s disregard for convention a serious trial. Lady Pevensey rode to hounds, swore like a trooper and forgot all about visiting hours but none of these offences against propriety was as dreadfully scandalous as an elopement.
Amanda realised that she was shaking so much that drops of chocolate had spilt on the beautiful linen of her bedclothes. Never had she felt so overset, not even when the silk for her new evening gown had been quite the wrong shade of rose pink. This was an entirely different sensation. She felt genuinely distressed. It was such a novelty that she almost stopped to examine her feelings but there was no time to spare.”

Nicola Cornick

The Other Mr Darcy: Reflections

I'm currently in the midst of a whirlwind blog tour to celebrate the launch of the Sourcebooks paperback edition of The Other Mr Darcy in the US, and two of the most frequent questions that keep coming up were: Why Caroline Bingley, of all Austen's characters? And why an American Mr Darcy?

I was reading somewhere that at the turn of the 19th century an English gentleman and an American “gentleman” from one of the prominent families in Boston were virtually indistinguishable. I was intrigued by this. I found myself wanting to explore that issue, because I really couldn’t imagine that they could possibly be the same. Even if their education was very similar, they were the product of completely different environments. I started imagining situations where the subtle differences would emerge, and the language they thought they had in common would lead to misunderstandings.

At that time I had gone through a spree of reading and watching Jane Austen dramatizations. I felt strongly that I wanted to write Caroline’s story. It seemed to me that Jane Austen is more forgiving of the men in the novel than the women. Wickham tries to run off with Georgiana to steal her fortune, spreads slander about Mr Darcy, seduces a fifteen-year-old and ruins her reputation, and leaves behind him a string of debts everywhere he goes.

Compared to him, Miss Bingley is angelic. Yet it is not Wickham who emerges as the villain of the piece. It is Caroline! True, she is a social snob. She looks down at the Bennets and makes snide remarks about Meryton society. She wants to secure an advantageous marriage. In other words, she is, at least at the beginning of the novel, the female equivalent of Darcy. But Darcy is redeemed later because he falls in love with Elizabeth, and, in his own words, is “properly humbled.”

If there is redemption in love, as Jane Austen implies, perhaps if Caroline were to fall in love, she could be “properly humbled” as well.

Somehow, in the way that these things happen when you’re writing, these two concepts crossed and then merged. I realized that Caroline needed exposure to something that would shock her out of her placidity. She needed to meet a man who was just different enough from the gentlemen she was accustomed to that he would throw her orderly world into disarray. It seemed to me that, if Caroline could be forced outside her comfort zone, she would be capable of changing. Because, despite some people’s view of her as a hardened criminal, Caroline is still very young. Charles Bingley is only twenty-two, and she is referred to as his younger sister, so she cannot be more than 21, possibly younger. Anna Chancellor does a wonderful job portraying Caroline in the BBC production, but she makes her seem older than she is. In the 1995 film version, Caroline is younger, but hardly appears on the screen. Lost in Austen's Christina Cole is closest to my image of Miss Bingley, though they do take a lot of liberties with Jane Austen's character!

A young Caroline, slighted in love, as she is with Darcy, might well be able to change.

In a nutshell, that’s how this other Mr Darcy — Robert — came into being. In a way I pictured the encounter between him and Caroline as a clash of cultures. Robert Darcy is from a country which, at that moment, is at war with England. It is a colony that, despite having won its independence, is still struggling to separate itself from its former rulers. Robert comes to England to inherit Darcy property, but he carries with him a healthy dose of scepticism towards the cultural rules and regulations which Caroline sees as carved in stone. Yet, at the same time, he is a Darcy, and very much part of that social order, even if he wasn’t raised in England. So he’s incomprehensible to Caroline, because he knows how to behave with propriety, but he doesn’t always choose to do so. The very idea of choice is a real eye opener for her, trained as she has been at her select boarding school. For Caroline, things are very clear. In order to be successful in society, one has to learn the rules and then follow them blindly. After all, that is what defines a woman who is gently bred.

But Robert brings with him a different perspective. I really can’t envision this new Mr Darcy as being from anywhere else. The New World at the time, with its pioneering spirit, was a challenge to the Old World. And I see Robert Darcy as throwing the gauntlet, so to speak, to Caroline, who takes it up, and grows because of it. Though it isn’t a one way relationship, any more than the relationship of England to the (former) colonies was a one way relationship. He, too, has to learn to accept his position in life, and to accept the inescapable responsibilities that come along with it.

For it is out of these challenges, and out of their parallel journeys of self-knowledge, that Caroline’s and Robert’s story emerges.

If you're interested in following some of my posts in The Other Mr Darcy blogtour, you can check out my Blog Schedule.