The fascination and process of using the amnesia trope

A quick search on Amazon for “amnesia historical romance” produces 221 results. If you cut out the historical and go for “amnesia romance” you get 1000 results. I should say that makes it quite a popular theme among authors.

Personally, I’ve used it twice. In A Trace of Memory, our hero finds the heroine wandering in his woods, dishevelled and unable to remember who she is or how she got there. Of his two sisters, who are with him, one believes Elaine genuine, while the other suggests she is guilty of an elaborate ploy to entrap the eligible earl. Nevertheless, they take her in and look after her, although Charles is in two minds.

My current book just launched features another earl who is thrown from his curricle and injured. Widow Chloe takes him in but when he wakes his memory is missing. In this scenario, his identity is known as he has a groom with him, but Lance has no idea who he is and the story revolves around his mistaking Chloe for his lost love, Clarissa.

The working out of an amnesia plot follows the same pattern as any other Regency story. Boy meets girl. Attraction is followed by complications which, when resolved, result in the happily ever after – or at least a hope of it. The interesting bit comes in how much we can develop the symptoms and progress of the condition and how much that influences the story.

An amnesiac, by definition, has an impaired memory. We are not talking here of the distressing condition of the gradual onset of dementia which we know is not going to go away. For the purposes of romance, that would be impossible. But a knock on the head can produce a more immediately severe condition that is, we hope, temporary.

The trick lies in how much memory our amnesiac discovers through the story. How much of the mystery do we choose to reveal, piece by piece? What triggers can we use to build even a vague picture of this person’s past, and indeed of their character? The opportunities are legion and the development of the story depends upon those choices.

You can, for example, change a man’s whole character, as demonstrated by Harrison Ford in the film “Regarding Henry” where the hero survives a bullet and becomes a completely different individual, warmer and loathing what he learns of the man he used to be.

With Widow in Mistletoe, a dream-induced memory of Clarissa pitches Lance into the first and major complication since Chloe resembles her. He also begins to discover an arrogant attitude he had as a lord that he now deprecates. His confusions abound and he begins to fear for his reason. Chloe becomes the only stable point in his new existence.

I must say that as I was writing the story, I didn’t work this out ahead. It grew in the writing. Logic dictated that in a person who still has their faculties, the loss of memory must be distressing – unlike with dementia where often the victim does not realise they even have the condition. This presented scope for plenty of drama and the story became quite dark in places. It’s hardly gothic, but the psychological disturbance creates that darkness.

I wonder if this is the magnet that drives authors to the trope? The fascination with the psychological aspects of the condition and how that affects the victim and the people around them has so many possible permutations that it’s unlikely any one story is repeated elsewhere.

Nevertheless, I think it’s a risky trope. Easy to overplay or underplay it. For example, what of the convenient second accident that miraculously recovers the memory lock, stock and barrel? I suspect any amnesiac will retain hidden pockets that prove elusive. Far more believable to allow snippets to appear here and there and perhaps widen as familiar territory helps to jog them into more coherent memories.

I left my hero incomplete, I’m afraid, but at least with sufficient recognition to know who he was really in love with!

Elizabeth Bailey

An overturned curricle creates a vanished memory. When Chloe takes in the injured lord, she puts her heart in danger. Dare she hope Lance may realise she is not his dead betrothed and learn to love her for herself?

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Boundless

The last book in the Shaws series is out next month, but instead of a straight "buy me," post, I'd prefer to talk about an aspect of the story.

Orphanages. At the start of Boundless, Livia is attacked by some skinny children from the orphanage she has just visited.
Georgian London had good ones and bad ones.

Thomas Coram's Foundling Hospital

The best was the famous Foundling Hospital which Thomas Coram helped to establish. A retired sea captain, he used his fortune to fund the school for children who needed a good upbringing. The children weren't strictly orphans, but they came from parents who could not afford to bring them up. In effect, the parents gave their babies away. They left little tokens so they could identify the child if they were ever in a position to reclaim them. The Hospital has a pathetic and terribly sad collection of them that you can go and see today. As far as is known, not one parent returned to claim their child, and if they had, since the tokens were removed it would have been almost impossible to recognise them.
The children were brought up strictly to be good Christians and to have a trade. Eventually they'd be apprenticed out or sent as servants somewhere.
And that was the good version.

In the bad one, like the one my heroine Livia visited, the orphanage was little better than a thieves' kitchen. they were taught a trade all right, but that might be pickpocketing or burglary. Remember Fagin in Oliver Twist? That was written when the rookeries were still swamps of filth and danger in the middle of London - turn the wrong way on The Strand and you could find yourself in an area the authorities left alone, and if you were wearing good clothes, you might not come out alive.
Livia mistakenly visits the kind of orphanage where children were trained to steal, and my hero has to rescue her. Oliver is very attracted to Livia, and astonished to see her in this part of London, but from that moment their fate is set.
And you'll have to read Boundless to find out what happens next!

*****

She’s the unlikely wallflower of the extraordinary Shaw family.  A woman who will never marry, but not for the reasons you might think . . .
 
Attacked on the streets of London, Lady Livia Shaw is relieved when a gentleman comes to her aid—and startled to discover her rescuer is Adrian, the Duke of Preston, a notorious rogue. But their association—and instant attraction—does not end there, much to the Shaws’ distress. For Livia was robbed of a memento—one that is both her most precious possession and a reminder of a shameful secret. It is a secret she knows will cause her to lose Adrian forever, yet he is determined to track down the thief . . .

Adrian never wanted to be anyone’s hero, but now he’s finding the prospect as pleasing as he does Livia’s company, and her beauty. Certainly he wants her in his bed, but what surprises him is how much she comes to mean to him. Which is why the revelation of her scandalous past is nearly his undoing. Arrogantly, he had assumed only he had the power to shock. But it is too late to turn back, and now Adrian may have to risk everything for Livia, even his heart . . .

You can preorder the book here!

The inspirational power of water

As a writer, I need inspiration and I find water is one of the most inspiring elements.  Whether it is looking out over the Bristol Channel at the end of a long sunny day, or watching the restless sea beating on the Devon coast, I just can't get enough of the view. It sets the creative juices flowing. 

 Writers need contrast in their books, so I need inspiration for the reflective scenes as much as for the exciting ones, and water provides that. Perhaps it is because we live on an island, we are never very far from water and for someone who writes about Georgian England, water is important. 

HMS Trincomalee, Hartlepool

Along with coal, it powered the industrial revolution, and provided trade routes around the coast or via the rivers and canals for centuries before the roads and railways took over.

Recently I have been travelling around Scotland, where they have, er, an abundance of water. It's everywhere, in the rivers and lochs and around the coast with its thousands of islands. (there is also plenty in the sky, too, but luckily not when we were there!) There was the excited anticipation of setting out on a ferry to the remote island of Jura,

  and the sheer pleasure of sitting in the sun, watching the seals sunning themselves in the bay at Port Charlotte, on Islay.

You might think this would only provide inspiration for seafaring adventures, but not in my case. Although I do have some books set beside the sea, and even on it, many of my books are set in Regency London, or in an English country house, but travelling around and looking at waterfalls and wonderful views over vast expanses of water seems to free the mind to wander where it will, resolving knotty problems about plot providing a route to the necessary happy ending.

But you don't have to travel that far to enjoy the benefits of water, fountains and lakes in city parks can be just as enjoyable, or walking along a canal. Even just soaking in a bath has been known to help when I have been wrestling with a storyline!

Happy reading (and writing).

Melinda Hammond / Sarah Mallory

Beauty & the Brooding Lord

Out now!

There's something about soldiers in scarlet coats.

In Chapter VIII of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, a militia regiment arrives in Meryton, to the delight of Lydia and Kitty Bennet. ‘They could talk of nothing but officers’ and every other topic of conversation ‘was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.’  Their father calls them ‘two of the silliest girls in the country’,  but Mrs Bennet says wistfully, ‘I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself very well – and, indeed, so I do still at my heart.’

I was reminded of this when I visited the Household Cavalry Museum recently and I have to admit that the sight of soldiers in uniform, wearing crested helmets and scarlet jackets, sitting on gleaming black horses and being put through their paces by an even smarter officer, gladdened my heart, too. I knew just what Mrs Bennet meant. And the hundreds of people watching the Household Cavalry completing the Changing of the Guard in Horse Guards Parade obviously agreed.

Visitors watch the Changing of the Guard ceremony in Horse Guards Parade. 

I went into the Household Cavalry Museum to find out more.

The Household Cavalry is a union of the Life Guards (red jackets) formed by King Charles II on the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660; The Royal Horse Guards, known as ‘The Blues’ (blue jackets), raised in 1650 as part of Cromwell’s New Model Army, and The Royal Dragoons, who were originally based in Tangiers. The Blues and the Royals later amalgamated, hence ‘The Blues and Royals.’

These two cavalry regiments form The Household Cavalry which has several functions; first and foremost, they are soldiers, fighting wherever they are sent; they are currently serving in Afghanistan. Their other important job is to protect the Sovereign; and to undertake various ceremonial duties, such as the State Opening of Parliament, escorting the Sovereign during State visits from foreign heads of state, Royal Weddings and the like. Naturally, their equestrian skills are superb.

Farrier’s axe and officer’s helmet, early 19^th century. The axe was used to kill a badly wounded horse and also to chop the hoof off a dead one which enabled the farrier to prove that the horse was dead and that he could apply for a replacement.

I’ve always been interested in early 19^th century military history, and I was delighted to find that the Household Cavalry Museum was full of splendid uniforms, bloodthirsty weapons and anecdotes of astounding courage; many of which centre on the battle of Waterloo, in June 1815. It was a battle in which both the Life Guards and the Blues and Royals were heavily engaged.

Contemporary ceremonial dress Life Guards and Blues and Royals

Their ceremonial dress is magnificent.  The scarlet jacket belongs to the Life Guards, and the dark blue belongs to the Blues and Royals. The basic design has not changed very much over the centuries.

Lieut. Charles Lorraine’s officer’s full dress coat: The Blues (1795-1800)

If Lieut. Lorraine had been lucky enough to have been invited to the Duchess of Richmond's famous ball on the eve of the battle of Waterloo, this is what he would have worn. It’s made of blue woollen broadcloth with scarlet collar and lapels, gold lace loops and gilt buttons. But the weather that June was notoriously wet and a soaked blue broadcloth jacket would have weighed him down terribly, so perhaps it’s just as well he wasn’t on the guest list. We know that many of the officers at the ball went straight from the ballroom to the battlefield.

 Saddle of an officer in The Blues used at the battle of Waterloo

When Major Harry Smith set out for Brussels to join his regiment before the battle of Waterloo, he took five horses, his wife Juana, himself, his brother Charles, three servants and Juana’s pug-dog with him. And his regiment was only the Rifle Brigade – not a smart cavalry regiment.

Officers had to provide their own saddles and equipment as well as their horses. They also had to buy an officer’s commission, starting at the bottom as a subaltern. To get into a top cavalry regiment, like the Life Guards, was very expensive. It wasn’t until after the fiasco of the Crimean War in the 1850s that officers could enlist without having to pay, and were promoted on merit rather than their ability to buy their way up the career ladder.

John Edwards’ bugle

But you didn’t have to be rich to become well-known in your regiment. Take John Edwards, 1799-1875. He joined the 1^st Life Guards age 9, in 1808, and became a bugler. At Waterloo, he was Field Trumpeter under Major-General Lord Edward Somerset and, aged only 16, he was the person who gave the signal for the decisive charge of the 1^st Life Guards.

John Edwards' memorial card

His story caught the public imagination and his long career became part of the story of his regiment. The elaborate memorial card, crowned with angels holding trumpets, printed after his death in 1875 indicates how well known his story was. It ends with the sentence, ‘Now waiting the trumpet of salvation.’

The eagle of the 105^th regiment

The capture of one of Napoleon’s eagles at Waterloo was cause for great celebration. Napoleon had designed them himself – in emulation of Ancient Rome – and presented them personally to his regiments, so losing one was felt as a disgrace.

A replica of John Shaw’s skull. Sir Walter Scott, who greatly admired Shaw, also had a replica made of his skull

One of the most flamboyant characters in the 2^nd Life Guards was Corporal John Shaw (1789-1815) who was famous for his size – he was over six foot – and strength; he once carried two ponies down stairs, one under each arm (or so the story goes). He took the King’s shilling, that is, he enlisted as a private in 1807 and soon caught the attention his officers by his strength and skill in various regimental exercises. He became a renowned boxer and his entry in the Dictionary of National Biography follows his career with gusto.

John Shaw’s sword and scabbard

On the morning of June 18^th, 1815, he took part in the first charge of the battle. A French cuirassier charged straight at him and Shaw parried the thrust with his sword and finished off the cuirassier by slicing straight through his helmet and skull right down to the chin. He fought ferociously in several other charges but eventually found himself outflanked and surrounded. He killed nine Frenchmen with his sword before it broke, then he tore his helmet off and began to use it as a cestus – that is, a sort of knuckle-duster used by boxers in Ancient Rome. He was eventually killed by a cuirassier sitting a little way off who unsportingly, one feels, shot him with his carbine.

The Earl of Uxbridge’s cork leg

Henry William Paget, Earl of Uxbridge (1768-1854) was a soldier who had fought with great distinction both in Europe and in the Peninsular. He was also a man with a scandalous private life – he had eloped with the Duke of Wellington’s sister-in-law.

The Earl’s knee was shattered by one of the last cannon shots of the battle. He was near Wellington when it happened and exclaimed, ‘By God, sir, I’ve lost my leg!’ To which the Duke replied, coolly, ‘’By God, sir, so you have!’  His unemotional response was possibly caused by his resentment at Uxbridge’s behaviour – though Wellington’s own reputation with regard to the ladies was hardly spotless.

The Earl’s leg had to be amputated above the knee and he had a cork leg made. Dissatisfied with it, he eventually had a fully-articulated prosthetic leg invented for him which creaked loudly whenever it bent. However, it was successful enough to become the standard prosthetic leg until 1914.

Mementos from the battle of Waterloo

After the battle, the looters moved in, and those of an entrepreneurial turn of mind who were quick to see the value in souvenirs. Above are a couple of examples of mementos from the battlefield. The curl of horse hair comes from Napoleon’s horse, Marengo; and the hoof snuff box comes from one of the horses killed in the battle. It’s gruesome, yes, but peace, however welcome after twenty-five years of war, left a lot of people, including soldiers, unemployed. We know that there were a lot of scavengers in the years following who made a living selling whatever they could find on the battlefield, from teeth to gilt buttons and bits of armour.

The mounted guard looks both right and left to check for anything untoward. 

The Household Cavalry Museum at the Royal Horse Guards in Whitehall is well worth a visit. You can even take a photo of yourself standing next to one of the guards, just don’t expect him to smile; he’s trained not to.  

Elizabeth Hawksley