Historical Holiday Traditions

If you enjoy discussing historical holiday traditions please join me this week on the eHarlequin site at http://community.eharlequin.com/webx?50@@.4a83f91c to chat about everything from Christmas recipes to festive bell ringing!

Now back to the story! Can't wait for the next episode...

Love
Nicola

CHRISTMAS STORY - PART FIVE (Five Gold Rings)

A snowball fight! Lord Winchester cursed silently as he followed Lady Armstrong out of the house, yet a moment's reflection made him realize that perhaps the cold air was just what he needed to clear his head. The Kingston chit was damnably attractive, and he had come perilously close to a proposal.
'You see Lord Winchester,' Lady Armstrong was saying as she led him to the garden, 'I have persuaded another gentleman to join in.'
Ryder spotted Lord Waverley was prowling over the terrace like a big cat, a panther indeed! From the windows several of the ladies were watching, including Miss Kingston, and once the two most fashionable of Lord and Lady Henley's guests showed that they were willing to indulge in a little frosty sport, the other gentlemen came out to join them. The snow was crisp underfoot, and soon they were all engaged in a battle royal, with snowballs flying thick and fast through the frosty air. Ryder found that his main target was Lord Waverley, who responded with a will. While the shouts and laughter of the others echoed around them, the two lords pelted each other with a ferocity that belied the festive scene. Each ball of snow that found its target intensified their animosity. At last Lady Henley called them all indoors to refresh themselves with mulled ale. Ryder followed Waverley to the door, muttering under his breath.
Lord Waverley stopped and turned, his cat-like green eyes narrowing in suspicion.
'What was that you said?'
'If our hostess had not called a halt I should have had you begging for mercy,' repeated Ryder, brushing snow from his sleeve.
'Are you calling me a coward, sir?' hissed Waverley.
Ryder pulled himself upright, anger overcoming his natural caution.
'I suppose I am.'
'By heaven you will answer to me for that!' snarled the Panther, 'I-'
'Oh stop!' Charlotte ran onto the terrace, her eyes dark with alarm. 'I saw you from the window, you look so serious! Pray do not fight, sirs, I could not bear it.'
Lord Waverley turned to her.
'Miss Kingston, I would do nothing that would cause you distress,' he purred, 'but I think you must be aware that you are the cause of our rivalry. You could end it, you know.'
She looked up at him with those blue, blue eyes.
'I, I could?'
'Why, yes. All you have to do it to say which one of use holds your affections.'
Charlotte blushed. What should she say? It was very flattering to have gentlemen fighting over one, but how could she decide, when she was unsure of her own heart?'
'I, I....'
Miss Kingston ... Charlotte,' Ryder came forward and possessed himself of her hands. 'Remembering our earlier conversation, am I wrong to think that you favour me?'
She pulled herself free.
'I need a little time,' she managed to say.
She peeped up at the two gentlemen from under her lashes. Ryder was so tall and handsome, but then again, Lord Waverley moved with the sort of power and grace that set her pulses tingling.
'Perhaps you can give us your answer at the ball tomorrow,' suggested Lord Waverley.
It was Ryder's turn to snarl. Everyone knew that Waverley was a deuced good dancer: how was he to compete? Before he could voice his objection, Lady Henley appeared.
'My lords, what are you about, to be keeping Miss Kingston out here in the cold? Charlotte my dear, that gown is far too flimsy for out of doors: go in and warm yourself by the fire.' As Charlotte hurried away, Lady Henley cast a shrewd glance at the two gentlemen. 'No doubt you will both want to dance with Miss Kingston at the Christmas Ball tomorrow night. Perhaps you are not aware of the tradition here at Henley Court: at Christmas the dances can only be reserved by gentlemen presenting the partner of their choice with a gold ring. We hide a number of rings in the garden, you know, and the gentlemen must seek them out.'
Lord Winchester smiled.
'That is no obstacle,' he murmured, 'I have already found such a ring, when I was, ah, indisposed near the pear tree.'
Lady Henley's smile grew even wider.
'That is very fortunate, my lord, but as hostess it is my duty to tell you that there are four other young ladies with a prior claim upon your attention, so you see, to dance with Miss Kingston you will require five gold rings...'

The Great Cover Debate

I'm interrupting The Twelve Days of Christmas to bring you the great cover debate!



I've just received the new cover for the trade paperback of Darcy's Diary (now called Mr Darcy's Diary) and debate is raging as to which is the best cover, the hardback (left) or paperback (right).




Let me know which you prefer!

The trade paperback is now available to order from Amazon US (release date February 2007) by clicking here

It's available to pre-order from Amazon UK (release date March 2007) by clicking here

Amanda Grange

Christmas story part 4

Happy Christmas to you all. I hope you are enjoying our story Anne Herries (part four)




Christmas Story part four: four calling birds
'I fear I must say goodnight,' Charlotte said and fled back to the house, laughing inside.
Ryder stared after her for a moment and then smiled wryly. He had never been known for his patience and she was such a delicate, beautiful creature. He must not rush her.

It had been such a magical evening, with Lord Waverly and Lord Winchester vying for her favours! Charlotte had lain restless for some hours before she could sleep, but now it was morning again. She stood at the library window looking out at the enchanting scene. Snow had been falling steadily overnight; pristine and sparkling, it enticed her to open the long windows. She could hear the doves calling from the tall trees at the far end of the lawns, and, as she watched, someone came through them, startling the birds and sending them winging into the air. She counted them as they rose effortlessly into the blue sky, 'One, two, three, four…'
It dawned on her suddenly that she had just received the fourth gift from the song that she had sung that previous night, when Lord Winchester had been taken so dreadfully ill and then tried to conceal it from her. She smiled a little wistfully, because there was something she wanted so very much, but she did not see how it would ever be hers.
'What are you doing?'
She turned and saw Ryder standing just behind her, a whimsical expression in his eyes, and her heart raced madly. She was becoming more and more aware that she found him very exciting - but then, she liked Lord Waverly too despite his dreadful reputation.
'I was listening to the calling birds – and four of them just flew from those trees down there.'
Ryder nodded, thinking how perfect she was in every way, her mouth so soft and enticing, her body so tempting. He was aware of an overwhelming desire to make love to her…but then he realised that she was sad and in an instant the pulsing desire in his loins was stilled as he moved towards her.
'What is it – can't you tell me?'
'I was just thinking of Jack…'
'Jack?' Ryder was puzzled for a moment, then recalled hearing a tale somewhere. 'Are you speaking of your brother?'
'Yes…' Charlotte sighed. 'He disappeared when he was sixteen and I was but a year younger. He had taken me riding earlier that day and he kissed my cheek when I went to bed – but in the morning he had gone and I have never seen him since.'
'And you miss him terribly, don't you?'
'Yes,' Charlotte admitted. She smiled up at him then, feeling closer to him at that moment than she ever had. 'I was just wishing…' She shook her head. 'It is foolish to long for something you can never have…'
Ryder was conscious of an overwhelming need to comfort her. He had known that he loved her, wanted her, desired her – but until this moment he had not realised that she was becoming infinitely precious – so precious that if he did not win her, his life would be empty.
He reached out to touch her face with his fingertips, the longing so fierce that he could not resist taking her into his arms, pulling her close so that it was as if their hearts beat as one. His face was soft with desire as he lowered his head, his mouth taking possession of hers in a kiss so sweet that it left them both feeling weak and light headed.
'Ryder…' she breathed. 'I wish…I do wish…'
Ryder smiled down at her but said nothing. He believed he understood what she wanted so much. It was an impossible dream perhaps, because four years had passed since her brother had disappeared, but there was nothing to stop him making inquiries. Meanwhile, there was something he wished to tell her.
'Charlotte, I wanted to ask…'
Behind them the door opened and Lady Armstrong entered. 'Ah there you are Lord Winchester,' she said. 'You are just the gentleman I need. Please come immediately. We are going to organise a snow fight for it seems a pity to waste all this wonderful snow. Several gentlemen are refusing to entertain us, but I am persuaded you will not – and surely you can persuade some of the others?'
Ryder shot a rueful look at Charlotte. 'We shall speak of this later,' he whispered and turned to Lady Armstrong. 'Madam, I am all yours to command. You wish for a snowball fight and you shall have one…'
Charlotte watched as he followed the lady from the room, and then sighed. What had Ryder been about to ask her? Perhaps he would tell her later that evening…

Christmas competition 2006

Win a selection of new books by UK Regency Authors in our Christmas competition!

Entry via Regency Authors UK website.

The lucky winner will win copies of:

Moonlight and Mistletoe by Louise Allen
A Wealthy Widow by Anne Herries
Fateful Deception by Kate Allan
Wicked Intentions by Lynne Connolly (ebook)

Christmas Story part 3

Episode Three

As Charlotte felt the soft touch of Lord Waverley’s coat and the hard muscle underneath, she shivered.
‘Cold?’ he asked, with a wolfish smile.
‘A little,’ said Charlotte, knowing quite well that it was not the cold that had set her quivering.
‘Then I had better keep you warm,’ he said, drawing her arm more closely through his.

The brilliant candlelight beckoned them, but before they could reach the house an elderly woman ran round the corner, waving her arms in alarm.
‘Miss Brady!’ cried Charlotte in astonishment.
‘Oh, Charlotte my dear, it is too dreadful. Oh, Lord Waverley, thank goodness you are here. And Lord Winchester, too. We have been invaded.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Lord Waverley, loosing his hold on Charlotte’s arm.
‘What?’ echoed Ryder.
‘Yes, I have seen them just now, in the yard,’ gabbled Miss Brady.

‘Show me. Where?’ said Lord Winchester.
‘Through here . . . oh my! . . . ‘ said Miss Brady, leading the way into the farmyard. ‘Whatever shall we do?’
Charlotte looked around the yard in surprise.
‘I see nothing but three hens,’ she said.

‘French hens,’ Miss Brady hissed. ‘And where there are French hens, can French soldiers be far behind?’
‘Assuredly not,’ said Ryder coolly. ‘But never fear. Waverley is just the man to flush them out. He is not known as The Panther for nothing. Miss Kingston, you must not remain here any longer, it is far too dangerous. Allow me to escort you indoors,’ he said, offering her his arm.

Miss Brady pushed her pince-nez further up her nose.
‘Oh, yes, thank you, Lord Winchester, what a good idea. Charlotte, my dear, go with him.’ She turned to Lord Waverley. ‘If you will be so good, my lord, will you just check behind that tree? I am sure I saw a Frenchman lurking there.’

‘We will leave you to it, Waverley,’ said Ryder.
Then, pulling Charlotte’s arm through his, he led her across the frost-bedecked grass. But just as he was about to tell her that her eyes were brighter than the starlit rime . . .

To be continued . . .

Amanda Grange

Christmas story part two

I hope you'll forgive me being a day early. I have an appointment tomorrow, so I'm not sure I'll be available!





“You rushed off so suddenly,” Miss Kingston said. “I was… concerned.” Her brow furrowed. “What are you doing by that pear tree?”



"I - ah - I - " So this was what total humiliation felt like. How could the lady miss what he had just done?

"Mr. - Ryder, are you feeling all right?"

"Quite all right, Miss Kingston. Do let us go in, I'm afraid you'll take a chill in this weather."

She looked at him doubtfully, her heavenly eyes glinting in the moonlight. Had circumstances been different, had he not just disgraced himself, this would have been the perfect time to declare his interest, if not his love. He had no desire to scare her off, not this early in his decision to court her.

"What is going on here?" The strong, masculine voice made Ryder nearly bite his tongue. While Miss Kingston had announced her presence by cracking a few twigs under her feet, one of the other guests here, Lord Waverley, had crept as quietly as the damned panther society called him.

Whimsically called The Panther because of the creatures on his coat-of-arms, Waverley was one of the leaders of society, a Corinthian, his strong, tall body always dressed in the peak of fashion, his dark hair tousled in the latest style.

Ryder disliked him, though he had no idea why. It wasn't jealousy, since Waverley could only occupy one woman at a time, that meant there were plenty left for mere mortals like himself, but something about the man's cold arrogance rubbed him the wrong way. Less a panther, more an irritated moggy.

"Turtle doves is it?" Waverley's blue eyes twinkled in amusement, but as he drew closer he paused to sniff the air. "Is that - no matter. Shall I take you in, Miss Kingston? I fear this weather is far too cold for you to be out without a shawl."

He presented his arm and like a lamb to the slaughter, Miss Kingston took it.

Now Ryder knew. He was jealous, after all.





Lynne Connolly w/a Lynne Martin.

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Christmas story part 1

UK Regency Authors' Christmas round robin story

Episode One

By Kate Allan

“On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…”

Miss Charlotte Kingston’s voice rang out clear and true. She stood by the pianoforte as her sister Hester played. “… a partridge in a pear tree. On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…”

Ryder Myles, Lord Winchester, found himself regarding the smooth contours of her face, her neck, her shoulders; the way her chest rose and fell as she sang. It was dashed inconvenient being in love, but he’d known it as soon as he’d arrived at Lord and Lady Henley’s three days ago and first set eyes on her. How had he missed spotting her in London he did not know.
At least it was Christmas, a time for some merrymaking, and perhaps a little mischief.

Later, when the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room following supper, Ryder sat down beside her. “Miss Kingston, I must complement you on your fine voice. You had me quite captivated.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She moved an inch away from him and rearranged her dress so that the hem completely covered her ankles and only a peep of slipper showed.

“I invite you to call me by my given name. Ryder.”

“Thank you, m… Ryder.”

“Thank you, Miss Kingston.”

She looked at him directly for the first time. Her eyes were prodigiously blue. Her lips had parted slightly. Well, he was a man, not a monk. No, certainly not a monk.

“You might call me Charlotte.” Her voice was soft.

Ryder coughed. It was hot in the drawing room. Too much coal on the fire. And his valet must have tied his cravat too tightly. It chaffed him. Love! Ah no, he had no belief in real love, true love. That he’d leave to romantics and lady novelists.

“Lord Winchester?… Ryder… are you feeling quite well?” Her eyes had narrowed.

“Overeaten I should think. The stuffed partridge was far too tempting.” He patted his stomach. “Would you excuse me?”

The French doors were, quite sensibly, locked but he found his way outside onto the unlit patio with the help of one of the footmen. He drew in deep breaths. The air was cold enough for snow. Yet the dark sky was full of stars, not clouds. It would not snow tonight.

The cold began to permeate through his clothing as the truth hit him: he really was going to be sick. He ran across the lawns, jumped over the low brick wall and into the welcoming darkness of Lord and Lady Henley’s orchard.

He stopped at the first tree, unable to prevent the inevitable. He drew deep, cold breaths and wiped his mouth with his handkerchief.

The sound of twigs snapping. Footsteps.

Ryder straightened up and turned around.

“You rushed off so suddenly,” Miss Kingston said. “I was… concerned.” Her brow furrowed. “What are you doing by that pear tree?”

*** To be continued... ***

Another UK Regency Author now has 48 hours to write the next installment! Come back on 5th December to read what happens next.

We're going to be doing something a little different this month on the blog - writing a round robin Christmas story. We have no idea where this story will go, so come with us and enjoy the ride!

Christmas in Regency Wiltshire

My novel, Perfidy and Perfection, is set immediately before and after Christmas in the middle of Wiltshire, near the town of Middleton (based on Devizes). Then in January to Eastbourne, Sussex for the delights of sea bathing. Yes, in January because the colder the sea, the more effective, apparently.

I shall post about sea bathing in January, but back to Christmas time in Wiltshire...


An excerpt from Perfidy and Perfection:

Immediately after Christmas, Ben, Lord Hart, goes to visit Sophy Grantchester.

Ben looked up at the squat parsonage, bent and flicked the small gate open, reached the front door in six steps. He raised his knuckles-

The door opened. Ben lowered his hand. She stood there before him, with gold flecks in her eyes that made him blink, and wearing… some brownish material. Well, it was a dress he supposed. And on her head, a frilly white spinster’s mob cap. It was hideous. ‘Miss Grantchester. What a pleasant surprise!’

‘How so? I do live here after all?’ She tucked a loose tendril of hair behind a soft-looking ear. ‘I suppose you are here to see my father? He is out at present. If you wish to wait-’

‘I am relieved to hear he is feeling better, but no.’

‘No?’

It was a very small word but it hung in the air like a travelling show’s largest puppet. Ben watched as her eyes narrowed and then widened. He wondered what she was thinking. If he had been on a doorstep somewhere in Mayfair he could have asked the girl to join him for a spin around Hyde Park on his high perch phaeton. Now that he was on a doorstep of a parsonage in Wiltshire he suddenly had no idea. ‘I’m very bad,’ he said. ‘At planning things, and I also suffer from a lack of imagination. However, there is something I wish to discuss with you. And I brought your books.’

Her face brightened as he handed her the basket he’d been holding behind his back. Ben swallowed. She had not looked so happy to see simply him.

She stared down into the basket and then rifled her slim hand down past the books piled therein. Said, ‘Was there nothing else? No… letters?’

‘Letters? No.’ Ben shook his head. ‘Were they important?’

‘Important? No.’ She turned and placed the basket down in the hallway behind her. ‘You’ll be wanting a cup of tea, I suppose?’

Not particularly, Ben thought. Said ‘Yes, please.’

Then, just as she had half turned and he was in the middle of taking a step forward to follow her into the cottage, he said, ‘Wait! Would you, by any chance, care for a stroll? It is cold, but not so very cold.’

‘Is there a history of insanity in your family?’ Her eyes had most definitely narrowed. ‘Or are you courting me? If the latter, I must certainly obtain my father’s permission.’

‘The very devil! What would you say if I slung you over my shoulder now and to hell with all the rest of it?’

She stared at him. Quite rightly, for he wasn’t entirely joking.

‘Well?’ Ben pressed.

‘I don’t know. I never considered the possibility would come about for a parson’s daughter.’


Kate Allan
More about Perfidy and Perfection

The Mesalliance - book cover

Here is the finished cover for my next book for Robert Hale, due out in February 2007. The building is St Osyth Priory, where the book is set, and David Young, the artist, has captured it perfectly.
For some reason this image appears in lurid green- on my PC it's a far more natural colour. I hope my version is correct!!
I have asked for this artist to do all my covers in future as I think it is giving me a recognisable look- one that a library reader can spot. I'm hoping they will be using this 'look' to select the book not jump back in horror!!
Still no sign of the My Weekly Story Collection title- The Return of Lord Rivenhall- but I'll keep you posted.
Fenella Miller

Christmas cards!

Christmas at Steventon










Goodness, our blog readers are a talented lot! Regular commenter Jane Odiwe turns out to be the designer of these wonderful Jane Austen-inspired Christmas cards.












Steventon Rectory




So if you want to send something original this year, look no further! Anyone wanting to order the cards should email Jane on

effusions at btinternet dot com

(if this looks odd, say it out loud. I've put it up this way so she doesn't get inundated with spam.)






Assembly Rooms Ball








The cards are a pound each or a ribbon wrapped pack of nine (any selection can be made up whether they are all the same ormixed) is five pounds. There is a charge of one pound fifty for post and packing.

They're unusual and truly delightful!

Learning to Live with a Barbarian

I thought I was a Regency author, faithful and content - but then I got seduced, and by Terry Jones of all people, not possibly the first name who springs to mind when contemplating infidelity, nice and witty though he is.
I was watching his BBC2 series, The Barbarians, and the picture of nice Roman girl meets huge hairy Barbarian flashed though my mind and that was it, I was hooked by the Visigoths.
It has been a strange experience, creating Wulfric. At first I buried myself in reference books until I remembered the important thing was the love story and to write that first and check up on the historical accuracy as I went along (although I can't escape the maps and the atlases which carpet my study floor).
Not all the research is pleasurable academic delving of course. There is the effort of forcing myself to skim through Lord of the Rings looking at Aragorn for inspiration for long-haired heroes. Oh yes, and I'm dragging myself off to go and see Casino Royale to study the honed male torso, but difficult though this is, one has a duty to one's readers.
Once I have finished with Wulfric it is back to the Regency, although all those research books seem a bit of a waste for just one title, perhaps Mr Jones will lead me astray in the future.

Louise Allen

Miss Charlotte Smith's Diary - Part 11

For parts 1-10, see the links at the left.

January 23rd

Half past 7
Had a bath in lavender scented water then ate breakfast whilst wearing wrapper, in case I spilled hot chocolate. Then dressed in white muslin gown.
‘I wish it didn’t look quite so demure,’ I said to Melissa.
‘You can always dampen the muslin,’ she said. ‘It’ll make it cling to your legs.’
Melissa is a true friend.

8 o’clock
Took out rags and arranged ringlets artfully around face.

9 o’clock
Went shopping. Bought Mama’s sheets, two bonnets and a length of silk for a new gown. Will have to get a job now because I’ve spent my last penny.

Half past 11
Wet muslin and arranged it round legs in tantalising folds. Hailed a hackney and set out for Winters House.

Quarter to 12
Arrived at Winters House. It is exactly the sort of house I am cut out to live in. It has a marble floor and marble columns and priceless antique vases dotted about. The butler left me in the hall and went to announce me. I took off my pelisse and bonnet then wandered over to a mirror and examined myself in it.
Hair very curly - good - but several hairs out of place - bad.
Started to tweak hair in front of mirror, then turned round to see it from the back. Felt something brush against my gown, caught a glimpse of a priceless vase tottering on top of a stand, spun back in attempt to catch it, and succeeded only in clutching empty air as it crashed to the floor. Stood like a statue as the loudest crash I’ve ever heard in my life echoed around the cavernous hall.
Wished Lord Winters had a tiny hall like everyone else. Also wished he had invested in a carpet.

10 to 12
Unfroze and started to panic. Started frantically picking up the pieces of the vase and looking round for somewhere to put them. Saw a potted palm in the corner and tipped the pieces in the pot. Decided using my hands was too slow and so I scooped up rest of the pieces in my skirt. Held it up at the corners and waddled over to the potted palm. I’d almost reached it when door opened and out walked . . . The Rude Man in the Ante Room. Could only stop and stare, and wonder what he was doing there. Could also not help wondering why I hadn’t noticed how really good looking he was the other day, instead of just thinking he was not bad looking, and seeing that he has a body that looks like it spends a lot of time fencing and in the gym.
Then I realized I was picking up the pieces of a vase I’d just broken, and wondered if I am destined to bump into him at all the worst moments in my life. Also wondered if I am destined to convince him that I am the biggest walking disaster in the world.
‘What the devil are you doing?’ he asked.


Fortunately I was holding my skirt up at the corners so the broken pieces of china were invisible inside it. Thought quickly and dropped a curtsey, as though I’d been holding my skirt out whilst I waited to do exactly that.
‘Your Majesty,’ I said.
Rude Man looked at me as though I was a half wit.
‘Oh,’ I said, rising, but still holding skirt up at corners. ‘I thought you were the Prince of Wales.’
‘Must have escaped from Bedlam,’ he muttered to himself, as he stalked out of the house.
Pity he’s not a rich earl. Or maybe it’s a good thing. At least I have not made a fool of myself in front of my future husband, but only in front of Very Rude Person who just happens to be Very Nice Looking.

Amanda Grange

Christmas Past

As we begin the mad rush of shopping for Christmas spare a thought for the ladies of the Regency period. If they were very rich they might have bought gifts for their friends as we do, but many of them spent months labouring on their presents, which were often something that they had embroidered. They made most of their Christmas trimmings themselves, as well as all the cooking of Christmas puddings, relishes and sweetmeats. It must have been such a busy time for them. I sometimes wonder how they did it all.

I have seen many examples of the beautiful cards that were made in Victorian days, but what about the Regency ladies and gentlemen? I think many of the ladies made their own greetings to send out. They spent so many hours cutting, pasting, drawing and sewing, but of course they didn't have the distractions we do in this modern life. But I think it must have been wonderful to go to church at midnight and come home with a lantern to hot punch and all the family gathered in a house decorated with holly boughs and mistletoe. They knew how to play games in those days, and could entertain themselves quite happily. For all our modern advantages, I think Christmas must have been delightful then. Anne

The Journal of a Regency Lady 11

Regency Journal 11

May 19th 1812

I danced with Lord Belmond last night and then he took me outside for some air because it was so very hot in the ballroom. He asked me if I was enjoying my visit to town and I said yes. He told me then that he was leaving very shortly to join his regiment. I said that I should be sorry not to see him in company and he smiled a little sadly and said that he would miss me. He asked if he might take me driving in the park the next day. I hesitated and then said that he might, in the morning because I had engagements for the afternoon. He promised that he would call at half past ten and the look in his eyes made my heart beat very fast. I think that he may be intending to make me an offer – dear journal, what shall I do? I believed myself in love once, but now I am not so sure. Why did Miss Chesterfield break off their engagement – was it because she believed he was merely marrying her for her money?


May 20th

I spent a restless night for I truly do not know what I shall say if Lord Belmond asks me to be his wife. If only he had asked me last Christmas how happy I should have been then. I shall write when I return from my drive, though it may not be until tomorrow, because I have engagements all day.

A class

I'm currently taking a class for the Beau Monde group currently, together with my editor, Gail Northman, and I'm really pleased with the level of enthusiasm and interest.

It's on the English Country House, and we're trying to show how important these beautiful places are to our history as well as our heritage. The country house wasn't just a showpiece, although this was an important part of its function, it was Head Office.

The aristocratic title held a horde of enterprises under its broad canopy. Farms, agricultural concerns, mineral resources, but also building schemes, investments in new ventures and old, and many other concerns. Embodied in the person of the peer, the holder of the title, so many people worked, directly and indirectly, for the concern that he wasn't just a peer, he was the Chairman of the Board.

If you describe it as this to a modern person, things then become a lot clearer. Although it isn't a direct analogy, it's a valid comparison. When the Chairman was a vigorous, interested, clever person, the title, the investments and the country prospered, but when he was weak, unless a suitable deputy could be found, everything began to deteriorate.

So in describing these Head Offices we're trying to show how important these institutions were to the country in the Georgian period. Not just beautiful places, they were vital to the country's economy.

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The Social Outcast

The Social Outcast is my third historical romance and will be published by Robert Hale in February next year. I've just received the final artwork for the cover. What do you think of it?

Eloise Hamilton, a young lady of considerable wealth is, as the title implies, unacceptable to the leaders of society because she is not only the daughter of a merchant banker, but illegitimate, too.

Knowing she's never likely to be welcomed amongst the ranks of the aristocracy, Eloise resists all attempts on her family's part to push her forward and instead happily spends her time riding her horse, accompanied only by her dog, refusing to regret what might have been. When the second son of a duke starts paying her marked attention she is under no false illusions as to the outcome, vowing simply to enjoy Lord Craven's company, even though her lifetime neighbour and friend, Harry Benson-Smythe, suspects that things aren't that straightforward and warns her to be on her guard.

But Harry himself is preoccupied in investigating the mysterious disappearance of several local girls, reluctantly conceding that he must accept Eloise's offer of assistance in order to get to the truth. Only when it's too late does he realise that he's placed Eloise in mortal danger.

Want to know more? Sorry, you'll have to wait until next February. There again, perhaps I'll post a few extracts on this blog in the meantime ...

Wendy Soliman

There are some more photos for the upcoming TV adaptation of Persuasion here

They seem to have given Anne a very severe hairstyle. I wonder if they're going to make her look faded and plain at the start of the programme, and then gradually let her look softer and prettier as time goes on, to show how she regains her bloom when Wentworth returns. Time will tell . . .


Amanda

Just another silly romance.......

Historical Romances get a bad press: many people assume that all you need do is put your heroine in a long dress, your hero in knee breeches and hey presto, it's historical! Nothing could be further form the truth. Writing historical romance is like a tapestry: the love story may be the main thread, but it has to be interwoven with a lot of background detail, subtle shades that give the tale depth and colour. Sometimes the detail is not even included in the final text, but it should be there, all the same.

Gentlemen in Question is set in 1792, when England was beset by fears of invasion, spies and even the thought of a revolution to equal the one taking place in France. Beneath the insouciance of the haut ton as they carried on with their house parties and social visits there was a very real concern that their social order might be overturned. Since Gentlemen in Question is set within the confines of a country house, these concerns are barely mentioned but they colour the attitudes of my characters, making them prone to suspicion and influencing their decisions.

In my latest book the characters are fully aware of the changes taking place in their world, and live their lives against a colourful and exciting backdrop of social upheaval. The Belles Dames Club, which is published in August, is set in 1786,a time of great change. The huge head-dresses and heavy gowns of the ladies were gradually being replaced by simpler styles and plainer fabrics such as muslin. Hair powder was beginning to lose favour, and gentlemen were relinquishing their wigs and moving towards a more sober style of dress. Some of this was a reaction to the political unrest that was building in France, but it was also a reflection of the changing attitudes of the country: it was not enough to have the local gentry providing charity for the destitute, a social conscience was growing, and among other things it made many people in England question the morality of the slave trade.
Poems were written to publicise the plight of the slaves, such as The Dying Negro by Thomas Day (see picture). I have one of my characters reading an extract from this poem at a fashionable soirée. I have mentioned the campaigner Granville Sharp in my book: for the period in which The Belles Dames Club is set, he was talking to groups, encouraging them to join forces to fight slavery – a year later in 1787 he founded the Society for the Abolition of the Slave Trade and the campaign really got under way, although it took another 46 years to get The Anti-Slavery Act passed.
It was also a time of scientific discover and exploration – the Royal Society with its energetic president Sir Joseph Banks was busy promoting science and funding expeditions to being back new plant species for the Botanic Gardens at Kew.

I have touched on all these points in The Belles Dames Club, all in a minor way but they are vital to the story and to the lives of my characters. Yet there is so much I have not mentioned, including the Industrial Revolution, but that's for another book……

Melinda Hammond
Gentlemen in Question – pub. Robert Hale Ltd

Whoops!

http://booksfromlindasole.blogspot.com/

If you would like to pop into my own blog, url above, please do. I shall be talking about various authors I like and reviewing their books. My first featured author is Paula Marshall.

I am sorry that the last journal has the wrong number on it. I hit nine instad of 0. It should read 10 rather than nineteen. Why didn't I see it before it was published?

Anyway, hope it doesn't muddle everyone too much.
Anne

The Journal of a Regency Lady 10

May 14th
Lord Belmond dined with us last evening. He was charming and talked seriously, and Mama told me afterwards that he seemed much changed. I think she has decided that she likes him, and she looked at me oddly once or twice, as if she were wondering how I felt. I am glad that she did not ask me, because I should not have known how to answer her. It seems such a long time ago since I thought myself in love with him.

May 15th
Mama has had such a letter! My brother wrote to her to say that he was considering making Hester a proposal of marriage. Mama has been in a fluster all day, because she does not know what to think. Paul hardly knows Miss Symonds, and I think Mama wonders if he has been influenced at a time when he is vulnerable. I believe she would like to go home, but she does not wish to disappoint me. She is torn between wanting to talk to Paul and seeing me enjoy myself in town. We were to have stayed for another two weeks, but if Mama is distressed I would rather that we returned home.

May 16th
Mama has written to Paul, asking him to delay his proposal until after we return. She asked me how I felt and I told her that I would not be too upset if we went home early. She says that we must stay until the end of next week at least, because we have so many engagements. I was able to tell her that I thought my brother far too sensible to do something impetuous.
'Paul always thinks things through, Mama. If he is considering making an offer to Hester, it must be because he loves her.'
'But he has been so ill,' she said, looking anxious. 'It is easy to make mistakes when one has been near to death. Do not mistake me, Anne. I like Miss Symonds very well, indeed, I should be pleased to have her as my daughter-in-law, but I want Paul to be sure.'
'I think you may rely on him to be sensible, Mama,' I reassured her. 'And I believe he will wait until we return, since you have asked it of him.'
Mama seemed reconciled after we had talked. She seemed as if she wanted to ask me something, but she did not. I am glad that she was patient, for in truth I do not know my own mind.

May 17
I saw Lord Belmond again as I walked in the park. He was charming as always, but just before we parted he said something that made me a little uncomfortable. He asked if I had forgiven him for his behaviour at Christmas, telling me that he had regretted leaving without speaking to me. I told him that there was nothing to forgive, but I gave him no encouragement. I think that he may make me an offer, but I was not his first choice and I am no longer sure that I wish to marry him.

I have heard disturbing news of the troubles in the north and I cannot help wondering if Lieutenant Jones has been caught up in them.

Hope everyoneis enjoying the Journal. Please don't hesitate to comment and let me know, Anne Herries
www.lindasole.co.uk

Captain Wentworth's Diary

I was browsing on Amazon this morning when I noticed that Captain Wentworth's Diary is now available for pre-order - it will be out June 2007.

Writing Captain Wentworth's Diary was a brilliant experience and I enjoyed every minute of it. I'd always wondered what happened the first time Anne and Wentworth met, in 1806. Where did they meet? How did it happen? Was it at a ball, at dinner, on a picnic or in the village? What did they think of each other? And what exactly happened?

When I came to write Captain Wentworth's Diary, I decided to try and answer those questions by writing what is in effect a prequel to Persuasion as the first part of Captain Wentworth's Diary. I'm really looking forward to finding out what readers think of it!

Amanda

Oooooo... the cover!

I'll warrant that there are fewer things more exciting to an author that seeing a new cover for the first time. This is what happened to me this morning when my author copies of Fateful Deception, out with Linford Romance this month, arrived in the post.

It's perfect! The hero, Capain Robert Monceaux of the Light Dragoons, is tall and dark and in regimentals. Lucinda, the heroine, looks pretty and is completely in period (1810) in her debutant-white Empire line dress.

I emailed my editor at Linford Romance straight away to tell her how super it was and to thank everyone who had anything to do with it.

Persuasion

Rupert Penry-Jones will be playing Captain Wentworth in the upcoming TV adaptation of Persuasion, and I'm really looking forward to it.

I don't imagine Wentworth looking like this, myself - if anyone had asked me to cast the part (which, alas, they didnt!)I would have cast Hugh Jackman - but it will be interesting to see what Rupert makes of the part.


Wentworth is one of Austen's most complex heroes. Not only is he a man's man, being a ship's captain, but he's also deeply romantic. He never forgets Anne, even after eight years at sea, and he says to her, 'You pierce my soul' - surely one of the most romantic lines in literature.

Who would you have cast as Wentworth?

Amanda Grange

Jane Austen handbook

The sensible yet elegant Mags, better known to Austen fans as the editrix of Austenblog, has been spending her time recently writing a book.

What is this book? I hear you ask. It's a book to delight any Austen fan. The Jane Austen Handbook: A Sensible Yet Elegant Guide to Her World by Margaret C Sullivan.


This promises to be essential reading, and it's available to preorder now from all Amazons.

Fenella-Jane's post regarding the value of second-hand books was spot on. I'm currently reading The Covent Garden Ladies which, as the title implies, describes the lives of ladies engaged in the world's 'oldest profession' during the Regency era.

I was intrigued to learn how some of the women ended up selling their bodies in order to survive. Many were country girls, lured to London by the prospect of honest employment. Many of the prettier ones were befriended by pimps or bawds, and their fates were effectively sealed. One such creature is recorded as having earned a massive five pounds ten shillings in her first week in her new job: only to find that when her 'mother' had taken her cut, plus board and lodging dues settled, and loans for the clothing she'd been given repaid, she was left with the princely sum of sixpence to show for her endeavours!

One enterprising bawd lurked about the Register Office, posing as a wife of a decent tradesman who required a healthful-looking woman, about twenty, to act as a lady's maid for an infirm old woman. She took the girl to a respectable lodging in a different part of town from her brothel, and fed her with a dram of alcohol. She was then be set upon by her assailant, her cries bringing no one to her relief. Solaced in the morning with a few guineas, the prospect of a new gown and a pair of silver buckles, she yielded to her fate and was most likely passed off several times more by the bawd as a fresh young virgin.

I was astonished to discover that many a respectable tradsman, finding himself with too many daughters to support, was not above selling one or more of them into the industry, consoling himself with the mistaken belief that if his daugthter entered one of the 'good' houses of disrepute, her future would be secured.

I didn't realise, times being as hard as they were, that even girls respectably apprenticed weren't above supplementing their incomes through the deployment of their charms. It would seem that the milliner's trade was well known for attracting girls willing to persuade their gentlemen clients to part with more than the price of a new bonnet for their wives.

It's sad, but hardly anything new.

Secondhand Books

THE PRINCE OF PLEASURE And His Regency 1811-1820 by J. B. PRIESTLY
I always rush into Charity shops when I'm in Colchester- like most towns it has more of them than almost any other shop - apart from mobile phone shops, of course!!
I go to the bric-a-brac first where I've found all sorts of interesting items. The last ones were two hand carved wooden birds from Africa for £1.
But I linger longest at the book section. A quick glance along the fiction shelves then a long lingering look at the non fiction.
Last time I managed to buy this wonderful book for the princely sum of £4. It's in very good condition and packed full of photographs and drawings perfect for research. I also find the bibliography useful- I've managed to obtain one or two excellent books this way.
However I was amused to discover that the original cost of this book in 1971 was £1. 50!! I had no idea ordinary secondhand books were such a good investment.
Fenella Miller

When I came back from my break in Northumberland last weekend I had a lot of emails to catch up on, and going through the list I was thrilled to discover that my latest novel, Gentlemen in Question, has been listed as an Editor's Choice in the Historical Novel Society Review for November. Phrases such as "highly recommended" had me grinning like Alice's Cheshire cat. Although authors should never get carried away by reviews – they are very subjective, after all - it is always gratifying to find someone likes your work and to be on a list that contains such writers as Philippa Gregory and Edna O'Brien is a bit overwhelming! I am off to open a bottle of bubbly!

You can read the review at http://www.historicalnovelsociety.org/ec-nov-2006.htm

Melinda Hammond

Romance in the Stone

I have just returned from a long weekend on the Northumbrian coast. The weather was superb for November and the scenery in this part of the world is stunning. We stayed in a little village on the coast close to the ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle, which is set on a dramatic whinstone promontory overlooking the North Sea (a couple of my better photos included here!) Unlike Bamburgh a few miles up the coast there is very little left to see now at Dunstanburgh, but the setting is so atmospheric I just love it. There are no roads or car parks close to the castle, so it's a walk of about a mile to reach it. The castle is owned by the National Trust and run by English Heritage and it is possible to climb up into some of the towers and look out over the sea or the countryside. Dunstanburgh has a charm all of its own and I can wander round the walls and cliffs for hours, listening to the constant roar of the sea and the cry of the seabirds overhead. It must have been very different when the castle was occupied: in times of danger the local people would have brought their animals within the safety of its thick walls: it must have been exciting, bustling, noisy and probably very smelly!


I discovered Dunstanburgh a few years ago and keep coming back. I have already used the castle in one (as yet unpublished) story and have a feeling it will creep into several more tales - it's a wonderful place to find inspiration.

Melinda Hammond
Gentlemen in Question - pub 2006 Robert Hale
www.melindahammond.com

Reverie

Sometimes particular words strike me. I mean, really stand out and shout, "what a brilliant word I am, and why haven't you used me before?!" Goes with the trade of being an author I expect.

Today that word is reverie. It started when I looked up to see if I could use the word filtered in Regency times. No, not really. Jane Austen doesn't use it - too scientific at that time I guess. I decided that penetrated was the nearest Regency equivalent to filtered for the context in which I wanted to use it.

But I digress. Casually reading a bit of Austen and there it was - reverie. Chapter 6, Pride and Prejudice.

Miss Bingley says to Darcy: “I can guess the subject of your reverie.”

His reply: “I should imagine not.”

“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner–in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise–the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all those people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!”

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

The insipidity... the noise... the nothingness... great words, great assonance (the repetition of vowel sounds) but to top them all - reverie.

What a super word. It comes from the French and has been used since the 14th century according to my etymology dictionary to mean wild conduct or a frolic. Its use as Austen uses it, to mean a daydream, dates from the 17th century.

Now I just need a reason to use it in my work-in-progress, but I think my current hero's musing is too problematic to be Austen-esque reverie.

Unlike Mr Darcy, whose reverie is caused by...?

a) What he ate for breakfast
b) His ten thousand a year
c) Miss Elizabeth Bennet

Kate Allan
My Website

Autumn

Autumn, which our cousins across the Atlantic call the Fall, is with us now. I love this time of year. Coloured leaves all over the place, rain and the nights drawing in. I actually love closing the curtains and turning on the fire, and so does my cat.
And this year, for a week or two, we don't have central heating, while we get a new installation, so I'll be able to recall was it was like pre-central heating.
We all worked in the same room, so I got used to doing my homework to the accompaniment of the TV and ordinary family life. When we woke in the morning, we had ice on the inside of the windows, and we dressed under the bedclothes to conserve heat.
So perhaps the good old days weren't quite so good, after all?

How many words in a book?

I'm delighted to be able to say that I have just had an offer for my fifth Regency Lord Thurston's Challenge from Robert Hale.
This sale has been a challenge in itself as the book came in seriously over Mr Hale's required length. It appears that I had been calculating my books using the PC word count and Hale do it by 'the white space' method. This involves counting the number of words in 50 lines, then the lines on pages, taking away the number you first thought of and that's the answer!! In other words my book which I thought was 84 000 was, by this method, closer to 120 000!!
I have agreed to cut 28 pages and Mr Hale, bless him, has agreed to adjust the margins and typeface to accomadate the extra. All Hale books are no longer than 224 pages, but, it seems, the production costs are by word so it is still far more expensive to produce a book with more words.
I am about to embark on a frantic weekend removing 'the domestic trivia relating to children', of which it appears there is far too much. I have promised to send the revised ms to Hale on Monday.
I'm looking forward to seeing a copy of my first novella, Lord Rivenhall Returns, to be published in My Weekly Story collection, any day- I'll post a picture of the cover when I get it.
Best wishes
Fenella Miller

Embracing the World-Wide Web

Having seen the publication of my first two novels, and being aware that the third will see the light of day next February, I decided it was high time I got myself up to date and commissioned my own website. The decision was taken reluctantly, since I'm a self-confessed techno-phobe, easily put off by things I don't understand. It was easy to find excuses not to take that final step but, having run out of reasons to procrastinate, http://www.wendysoliman.com is now out there, somewhere in cyber-space. Do have a look at it and let me know what you think.

The whole process left me wondering how we ever managed to do anything without the web. Apart from us novelists being able to promote the finished product, I am also able to do all the research for my books from wherever I happen to be in the world, simply at the press of a button. It might make for a solitary existance but it sure saves on time and shoe-leather!

Ain't technology wonderful!

Wendy Soliman

The Journal of a Regency Lady 9

May 11 1812
I have been invited to a waltzing party this morning, held by Lady Caroline Lamb. Everyone is enchanted by this dance now and they say the Regent loves to waltz. Mama was a little dubious at first but is reconciled. I have seen the Prince Regent twice now and he is very fat. Perhaps I should not say such a thing but I can tell my journal.

This evening we went to a ball and he was there again. I had not realised but he is now Lord Belmond and our hostess introduced us. He asked me to dance and I could not think of a way to refuse politely. He dances well but we did not talk much and he seems much changed - more serious. I was not sure what to say to him.

May 12
The papers are filled with stories of riots in the North. Mama says Papa is concerned because his brother owns a great deal of property there and may have been caught up in it. I feel a little as if we should not be giving ourselves up to pleasure when there is so much trouble elsewhere. Lieutenant Jones told me that he is being sent North to help quell the problems with Luddites. I do not think he truly wished to go but more troops are needed. He hesitated for a while and I thought he meant to ask me something but he did not. He said that he would call on me at home if he does not return to London before we go home.

Hope you like the image of the reissued Steepwood Scandal!

May 13th
I met Lord Belmond while out walking with Mama. He stopped to speak to us and asked if he might call. Mama has invited him to dine with us this evening. He smiled at me and asked if I was enjoying my visit to London. I said that I was. He seems so different and I am not sure what to think. I am a little nervous of meeting him at home this evening.

Hi everyone

Just to say hello to everyone and give you a little news. My new Regency trilogy starts in December in paperback and the book is called An Improper Companion. This is the first in the Hellfire series and the second book is out in Feb 07 in paperback.

Please check out my website for more details. I have some books trailers playing on the site and there is a competition for free books. I shall be back soon with the Journal of a Regency Lady.

Best wishes, Anne Herries

www.lindasole.co.uk

Marie-Antoinette – a tragic romantic heroine

Guest blog by Evelyn Farr

‘She who was my happiness, she for whom I lived… she whom I loved so much and for whom I would have given a thousand lives, is no more.’ No, not from a romantic novel, but written about Marie-Antoinette, one of the most tragic figures in European history, by the man who truly loved her. ‘What gentleness, what tenderness, what kindness, what solicitude, what a delicate, loving and tender heart!’

Sofia Coppola’s bizarre new film on Marie-Antoinette will unfortunately do little but perpetuate the myth of a vacuous, heartless, pleasure loving bimbo who got her just desserts from the French peasantry after eating too much cake. The real Marie-Antoinette was a complex, intelligent, passionate woman trapped in a marital and political nightmare from which she constantly rebelled but never managed to escape. Married off at fourteen by her mother, Empress Maria Theresa of Austria, to the Dauphin of France (Louis XV1), she had to battle from the start with a powerful anti-Austrian faction at the huge, unwelcoming French court, the indifference of her husband and the malign influence of some very opportunistic friends. Her image in history is largely that of her teenage years – a young, pretty princess determined to salvage some fun from the ghastliness of her official position. She broke the rules in so many ways – she laughed, she danced, she spoke to people she should have ignored, she ignored people she should have flattered. And she fell head over heels in love – but not with her husband.

The man who captured Marie-Antoinette’s heart at the age of seventeen and kept it for the rest of her life was described by one of his contemporaries as looking ‘like the hero of a novel.’ Count Axel Fersen, son of the most powerful man in Sweden, soldier, diplomat, was handsome, reserved and ‘had a burning soul beneath a layer of ice’ according to one damsel who tried unsuccessfully to detach him from the Queen. The love between Marie-Antoinette and her Swedish count was passionate and enduring, survived war, separation and revolution, and lasted beyond the grave. They both knew it was dangerous, both battled their feelings – he went off to fight in the American War of Independence to try to forget her. She waited three anxious years for his return, and then seized the day to make him her own. ‘Never,’ he declared, ‘has anyone ever known how to love like her.’ He refused countless marriages to remain at her side, and was far more her husband than the hapless man to whom she was shackled.

When the Revolution came, Marie-Antoinette was targeted in order to bring down the King (she had brains, he didn’t). It was Axel who comforted her, accompanied her on the gruesome march to prison in Paris, the heads of her bodyguards paraded on pikes beside her carriage, after the failed attempt to assassinate her at Versailles. He worked tirelessly to rescue her. He even managed to get her out of Paris on the ill-fated flight to Varennes, which in characteristic fashion Louis XV1 turned into a disaster. The royal family were locked up again. Axel had to flee France, a price on his head. And still he returned, in disguise and at great personal risk, to see the woman he loved. Their last day together was Valentine’s Day 1792. He tried to persuade her to attempt another escape. She felt she couldn’t leave her husband, who had grown ever more dependent on her considerable political negotiating skills. She stayed, fought to save the French constitutional monarchy and prevent civil war, but her husband’s weakness and indecision led to his own death and her execution on 16 October 1793 at the age of thirty-seven on the Place de la Concorde. By some miracle, a scrap of paper she managed to smuggle out of prison found it’s way to Axel Fersen in Sweden two years later. ‘Adieu, my heart is all yours.’ He never fully recovered from losing her. On the anniversary of her death in 1794, he wrote in his diary: ‘This day was a memorable and terrible day for me. It’s the day I lost the person who loved me most in the world and who loved me truly. I shall weep for her loss all my life.’ And he did. He died tragically in 1810, assassinated in Stockholm because he opposed the granting of the Swedish crown to an former French revolutionary. He never forgave the men who had destroyed Marie-Antoinette and he never forgot.

My book The Untold Love Story: Marie-Antoinette and Count Fersen is published by Allison & Busby.

Evelyn Farr

Reader, she married him

The final episode of the new BBC adaptation of Jane Eyre was on television last night.


I've been watching the drama unfold each week, and although I read Jane Eyre as a teenager, the series has made me think about the story in some new ways.


For example I had never liked how Rochester had tricked Jane, from the fortune teller prank to nearly commiting bigamy with her. However, I think I now understand Rochester better as someone weighed down by his past, and too unsure of Jane's love to be able to act in an entirely straightforward manner.

I also understand better the attraction between he and Jane in the way that they both touch each other very deeply. I think it is at least partly because they are essentially very lonely characters that they both understand what is like to have their real natures hidden or suppressed from the world outside. Jane's is hidden because of her circumtances, Rochester's is chained in by his mad first wife.

Kate Allan
My website

This is a fantastic year for historical romance on TV in the UK. Not only do we have Jane Eyre on at the moment, but next year we will be getting some new Jane Austen adaptations.

We picked up a link to photos from the shoot for Persuasion from Austenblog
Click here to see them and enjoy!

Dead and Unburied

It's obviously important to ensure that one's research is diligently undertaken when writing historical novels. You can be sure that if you assume you know something and don't bother to check, then nine times out of ten you'll make a mistake, inviting readers' criticism.

With that in mind I was recently researching the origins of death certificates and discovered rather more than I'd bargained for. Death certificates became mandatory in 1832, following the passing of the Anatomy Act in the Houses of Parliament. This was considered to be necessary in order to discourage body snatchers or "resurrection men", who met the demand for bodies for anatomical dissection in medical universies by robbing fresh graves or claiming the bodies of persons without family who had died in hospital or parish workhouses.

With fees of up to fifteen guineas per cadaver this proved to be a lucrative occupation and it didn't take long for demand to outstrip supply. Undaunted, our inventive body snatchers turned to another source, i.e. murder. John Bishop and James May, operating in London's East End in 1831 had the market cornered, so to speak, and many elderly or solitary persons in rooming houses fell victim to their avaracious exploits.

A surgeon in King's College, London eventually found them out. He noticed that the body of a fourteen-year-old boy appeared quite fresh, displaying no signs of recent burial, and had an open wound upon his forehead. The police were called, Bishop and May were tried, convicted and executed. And thus followed the Anatomy Act.

Oh, and by the way, the bodies Bishop and another body snatcher, Burke, were delivered to the anatomists after their executions. Poetic justice?

Wendy Soliman

Guest blogger of the month - Elizabeth Hawksley

Elizabeth Hawksley is well known to historical romance fans in the UK for her absorbing novels, such as Frost Fair, which was shortlisted for the Elizabeth Goudge Award. Set in the winter of 1814, when it was so cold that the River Thames froze solid, Frost Fair tells the story of sixteen-year-old Emilia Daniels, who elopes with a charming ne'er-do-well, Stephen Kirkwall, unaware that he is in debt to the sinister Balquidder. Balquidder has an eye on the fortune Emilia will inherit when she is twenty-five, and will stop at nothing to get it.





Crossing the Tamar is set in Cornwall in 1808 and is a story about smuggling with a difference, beause the smuggler is a woman. Dorothea, about to lose everything, is planning the next Selwood smuggling venture when the new heir, the Reverend Selwood, a religious don with very rigid notions of propriety, enters the scene.








Elizabeth's new book will delight a lot of people, because she's taken the time - with co-author Jenny Haddon - to write a clear, simple book on punctuation. It's illustrated with humorous illustrations and will be welcomed by writers, students and anyone with an interest in the English language.

With a degree in English and American Studies from the University of Sussex; a PGCE from the Institute of Education, University of London; and an MA in Victorian Studies (with Distinction) from Birkbeck, Elizabeth has taught both English and Creative Writing and so she is an ideal person to write the book.

Her co-author, Jenny Haddontook a degree in English at Oxford and then worked for the Bank of England, primarily as a bank regulator responsible for overseas banks. Throughout her life she has written novels, sometimes as Sophie Weston and is published in 24 languages.




Elizabeth says:
We've all seen the headlines shrieking 'Punctuation in Peril' but it was Lucy, one of my bright A level students, who brought it home to me. 'You mean there are rules for commas? I thought you just sprinkled them about like black pepper on pizza.' Er, no, Lucy.
Later, the class passed their stories round for reading out loud and there was a surreal moment when Ben's neighbour read out, 'That will wake the dead professor.'
We all blinked. Had his campus romp suddenly turned into a ghost story?
'No,' said Ben, grabbing back his pages, 'I meant, "That will wake the dead, Professor."'
Ah.
Then Ant, a keen Creative Writing student, said, 'What is a paragraph?'
They were hungry for help.
So Jenny and I mulled it over and thought about Delia Smith: this is an egg; this is what happens when you boil it. To keep it soft, you take it off after four minutes, to make it hard enough to take on a picnic . . . . That's what these students needed for punctuation. So that's what we wrote.

Jenny Haddon adds:
Maddy, a trainee teacher rang me in a panic. She had bought Eats, Shoots and Leaves to sort out her punctuation for class. 'It's only made things worse,' she wailed. 'There's even more to go wrong than I thought!'
Lynne Truss herself, of course, warns right from the start that her book 'doesn't instruct about punctuation'. It's great fun - but it sure as heck makes people jumpy!
'Think about why you punctuate,' I suggested. 'It's the written equivalent of waving your hands about. Your punctuation shows the reader how you would have spoken, if you were talking face to face. '
That got rid of the panic. After that, she found that the rules were relatively easy.
When you are in the same room with someone, they can ask you questions or make you repeat something if they don't understand first time. They can't ask questions of a book or report. So writing is a one shot game. If the reader doesn't understand, he (or she) will probably give up. Punctuate clearly and don't lose them!


Elizabeth continues: The rules are all there but the book has other things going for it as well. I think readers will be amused by the stories we use as examples - and Belinda Bubblewit, the (unpublished) romantic novelist whose Love and Lucasta's Lord demonstrates all too clearly What Not To Do.
We've highlighted common mistakes, too. So if you use the book for quick reference, it is easy to see if you've got it right and, if not, how to correct it.

To which Jenny adds:
It's practical but not dogmatic. We explain why punctuation works the way it does, instead of laying down arbitrary rules.
That's why we put together the Learner Driver's Guide, which compares punctuation marks to braking distances. It's easy to grasp and it helps you choose the punctuation marks which will make your meaning clear.
For the same reason, we've put together an example of how to organise ideas into logical order and divide them into paragraphs in our Train to Edinburgh. We think that will be equally useful to students and people in business, in fact anyone who has to write essays, formal reports or business letters.

Wide Sargasso Sea

A new adaptation of Jean Rhys's revisionist novel - Wide Sargasso Sea - about the first Mrs Rochester was aired on BBC4 last night.





Rafe Spall, who played a younger Mr Rochester off to seek his fortune in the West Indies, was pretty hot.



As was the weather in Jamaica no doubt.


And also the furnace of a fire at Thornfield Hall.


And additionally the bedroom scenes.


Kate Allan
My website

The Restless Heart

My new novella, The Restless Heart, is out now with My Weekly Story Collection. You can find on sale in WH Smith and other newsagents in the UK & Commonwealth.

Here's a short excerpt from the story's opening.

The Restless Heart

Chapter 1

‘Anthony!’ said the sharp female voice. ‘Oh do go and help that poor creature out of her misery. I can hardly bear to watch.’
Isabella Oakley had two choices – turn around to observe the female who had spoken or plunge forward in one last ditched attempt to save her bonnet from being blown completely away. She plunged forward but a strong gust of wind got there first, lifting the straw bonnet with its frayed ribbons up into the air and further across the lawn.
‘Heavens!’ she muttered, biting her lip and knowing that young ladies such as she were not supposed to look so utterly undignified. Bella put her hand up to the side of her head and felt hair coming loose. She’d now lost a hairpin as well. By now, all the people who had been enjoying a promenade on this pleasantly sunny afternoon would have stopped to watch the spectacle she was making of herself. They were most likely in better circumstances than she and could have let the elements take a bonnet with the certainty they would afford to buy a new one. She shuddered to think how much her aunt and uncle had already spent on her wardrobe to make sure she would be properly outfitted for her debut.
Bella gripped her skirts in her hand and darted forward once more as the bonnet took off from the lawn and got caught in the branches of a tree above her.
She stood next to the tree trunk and looked up with some dismay. Maybe if she balanced on her tiptoes and reached up with her right hand…?
‘Miss,’ a deep voice said. She snatched her hand back to her side. ‘Allow me.’
A tall gentleman dressed wholly in black save his starched white linen cravat reached up into the branches of the tree and plucked out the bonnet.
‘It appears beyond repair, I’m afraid,’ he said, turning the squashed straw over in his long-fingered hands.
‘Thank you, sir.’ Bella looked up as he handed her the article and found herself looking into some very dark brown eyes squinting because of the sunlight. He had a long face with a square chin yet his strong features were softened by the tousles of his dark hair. Curls framed his forehead and around his ears, and rested in sharp contrast on his brilliant white neck cloth.
His gaze narrowed and Bella realised he was not simply trying to keep the sun out of his eyes but was regarding her with some curiosity. It was perhaps not surprising as her green serge dress was unfashionable. She looked down to the tops of his black leather boots and felt a heat rising in her cheeks.
‘Anthony Davenport,’ he said and gave a small bow as was customary. ‘Your obedient.’
He kept one hand behind his back. His manners were clearly those of high society. What was she supposed to do? She had no idea whether she should introduce herself or simply thank the stranger and be on her way. Her uncle was going to be cross enough as it was that she had gone out for a walk alone.
‘Are you not going to share with me your name?’ he said his voice as smooth as cream as he raked his hand through his hair. Yet she had the strangest sensation that he was a little nervous.
‘Isabella Oakley.’ Whether or not he was nervous she was - her cheeks were burning and she’d already forgotten his name. Anthony something…?
‘A pleasant day for taking a turn, Miss Oakley,’ he went on to say, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
Bella’s attention turned to the conversation of two fast approaching ladies.
‘What a circus,’ one of the ladies said.
Bella wanted to hide her head in her hands. She should have noticed one of the ribbons on her bonnet was fraying and then none of this would have happened. But she’d been in such a thoughtless rush as usual….
The second lady said, ‘Well, Anthony is busy making an acquaintance. One day he really will disgrace us all!’

Kate Allan
My website

Hello everyone

Just to say that I am sorry I have been so long publishing my latest episode of the Journal of a Regency Lady. I have been on holiday and then snowed under with work on my return. An Improper Companion comes out this month in HB and December as HMB paperback and is the first in a new Regency trilogy. It runs through to April next year when another Regency trilogy starts. So you can see why I have been busy!

Love to you all, Anne Herries (Linda Sole)
www.lindasole.co.uk

The Journal of a Regency Lady 8

May 7th
We attended a large ball last evening and it was beyond my dreams. I wore a dress of white silk that Mama had commissioned from one of the most fashionable seamstresses and the pearls Papa gave me. I had pink silk roses in my hair and carried a posy of roses that Lieutenant Robert Jones sent me. He is one of Paul's closest friends and has just returned to England. He called on us the first afternoon we were at home and was so kind to me. He paid me so many compliments and asked that I would keep two dances for him.

I was sure that I should have plenty of dances to spare but it was not the case. I danced every dance! The gentlemen were all so kind and said some very foolish things. I did not expect to be such a success and I must admit that I enjoyed myself very much, though Mama said that I must not let it go to my head. Indeed, I shall try not to - but it was very exciting.

May 9th
Oh, I do not know what to think! It is the most extraordinary thing and a little disconcerting. Lieutenant Jones took me driving in the park this morning. He has some fine horses and I was enjoying myself very much until I saw him. He was staring at me in a very odd way. At first I could not believe it was Mr Carrington for I understood that he was going to be a soldier and I do not know how he comes to be in London.

May 10th
Mr Carrington was at a card party we attended last evening. I was told his commission has been delayed because he had to attend the funeral of his unle, Lord Belmond. It seems that Mr Carrington has unexpectedly been left a considerable fortune because his cousin was killed only last month in a riding accident. I cannot help wondering how Miss chesterfield feels now

Mr Carrington smiled at me but I moved on and did not speak to him. I daresay we may meet again soon for we are both to attend Lady Waterfield's ball tomorrow evening.

A Woman of her time

I have recently been reading "An Aristocratic Affair" by Janet Gleeson, a biography of Harriet Spencer, Countess of Bessborough, sister to the much more famous Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire and mother of the notorious Caroline Lamb. Harriet lived from 1761 until 1821; as a writer this is my favourite period in English history.

At a time when many consider women to have been powerless, Harriet was a very influential political hostess and close friend of the Prince of Wales. She and her sister were prominent Whig supporters and although they received a very bad press for their efforts, their husbands seemed to be quite happy for them to be on the streets canvassing during the elections.

She lived through some of the most troubled times of modern English and European history, was personally involved in Revolutionary France (her disapproval of Napoleon caused difficulties for her and her husband when they wanted to leave France after their visit to Paris in 1803).

Harriet was a fascinating woman who married well to please her family and thereafter conducted a series of discreet liaisons, following the fashion of the 18th century. Her affairs included a long lasting relationship with Granville Leveson-Gower and also the playwright Sheriden. From her letters she comes across as strong minded, kind and generous, even to those who tried to hurt her, and devoted to her sister Georgiana. Along with their mother, Lady Spencer and Lady Elizabeth Foster (the third party in the Devonshires' infamous ménage a trois) they formed a strong self-help group, the sisters looking after each other when they retired to the country (or even abroad) to have their lovers' children, defending each other from creditors and from the wrath of their powerful and rather alarming husbands. Harriet's lovers continued to pursue her even when she was no longer a young, attractive woman, and she remained friends with some of them until her death.

As a role model for a heroine we could do worse than look to Harriet: Her affairs may not be quite what we want for our romances, but she was a clever, articulate woman, warm-hearted, fiercely loyal to her friends and a devoted mother. I have no doubt that she will influence my future heroines (and in fact I see some of her traits in many of those I have already created).

Melinda Hammond
Gentlemen in Question, pub. Robert Hale

Have you seen Brigadoon?

"I saw the rain-dirty valley, you saw Brigadoon."
- Waterboys, The Whole of the Moon

I'd never seen Brigadoon, that is up until a couple of weeks ago.

At the end of a slightly stressful day putting on a DVD of a musical by Learner and Lowe (who also wrote My Fair Lady, one of my favourite films ever) seemed like a good plan.

The film of the musical was made in 1954 by Vincent Minelli (father of Liza). The sound is in Mono and the Highlands of Scotland settings are painted backdrops in a studio.

However, Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse are fabulous, the story is very romantic, and the score immediately appealing and memorable.

There are some calls to remake Brigadoon, which seems like a good idea to me. Although the film is lovely, it does feel dated.

While there seems to have been a book published in 1949, nothing since (as far as I could discover). If there had been a novelisation available, I'd have bought it.

Have you seen Brigadoon? What do you think? Is it time for an update?