The Duke's Deception

Fifth book in the duke series.

The fifth book in my duke series, The Duke's Deception, (published by Robert Hale as The Dissembler in 2006) is about to go live on Amazon.

I love the cover (done by Jane Dixon-Smith) . 

This book got a 5* review from an American review site that hated the first three books. Never understood why the reviewer panned the first three and loved this one - they were all well received on other sites.

Here is the blurb to wet your appetite.

Marianne Devenish arrives in Great Bentley expecting to find her great-uncle in residence. Instead she finds The Earl of Lenster, Theodolphus Rickham pretending to be Sir Theodore Devenish, a tulip of the ton, more interested in the cut of his coat than in politics.

Unable to stay in a bachelor establishment she moves to Frating Hall, with the permanently impecunious Lord and Lady Grierson. She discovers, to her horror, that Charles, and his younger brother, Edward are involved with the local smugglers.

Theo's dissembling inevitably leads to misunderstandings and heartbreak and with her reputation in tatters Marianne flees to London. But she is ostracised by society and is obliged to find refuge at Drayton House, a small estate in Hertfordshire. Here her life turns into a nightmare.

Can Theo catch his spy, save Edward and Charles from the gallows and rescue the woman he loves before she is lost to him for ever?

best wishes

Fenella J Miller

De-junking One’s Life

I’m a great believer in periodically de-junking one’s life. I do try not to hoard things but I’m not a natural minimalist and clutter keeps creeping in. I enjoy having ornaments around which friends have given me. I like buying unusual earrings and necklaces in foreign street markets. And, above all, I love collecting books.

However, I realized that enough was enough when I found myself blowing dust off all those little ornaments rather than dusting them properly. There were just too many. I’m asthmatic and the result was Not Good. Time for a change. I gave them a proper wash, put a few aside to keep, and said good-bye to the rest before taking them down to Oxfam.
I’ve also learnt to be more ruthless about my wardrobe and chuck things I don’t wear. These days it’s strictly buy something new and something old has to go. It doesn’t always work but I’m a lot better than I used to be.

Then there are the books. I have over two thousand. There are bookcases in almost every room and on the landings, and most of the alcoves have shelving for books as well. I was getting to the stage where they were beginning to pile up in the corners of rooms. Well, if I’m honest, there have been piles of books on the floor for years but I hadn’t seen them. Now I did.

So, this week, I’ve been tackling the books. A number of academic books from my M.A. course went – they are out of date now. I re-read those novels I wasn’t sure about and was surprised how many I was happy to let go. I’d loved them once but now they no longer appealed in the same way. Then there were books which I’d been given but didn’t really want. I’d thanked the donors nicely and now the books could go. The charity shop would get some money, I’d get some space.

The real problem is with the thousand or so books which comprise my research library - and I'm sure my fellow novelists know the problem. As a Historical novelist, we need to check on not only the obvious things like housing, costume, travel, food, wages and so on, but also more obscure information. I have books on smuggling in Cornwall in the early 19th century; theatrical lighting (candles, paraffin lamps and, later, gas) in the mid 19th century; an entire shelf on Wellington’s army in Spain during the Peninsular War; how refugees fleeing the French Revolution managed to support themselves in London, and a host of other out of the way subjects. It’s much more difficult to prune books here.

Nevertheless, this week, in six separate visits, I managed to take over one hundred books to the new Oxfam Book Shop in Islington. So, can I now report that my bookshelves are inspiringly freed up? Not quite. But I can see a lot more of my floor! What’s more, I feel incredibly virtuous.

And it’s a lot cheaper than therapy.

Photos: top: novels in the sitting-room
            bottom: books on the landing: top shelf: 19th century Highlands, lower shelf:
            Napoleonic wars.

Elizabeth Hawksley

Curling up with a Good Book

So, the UK is now on GMT rather than British Summer time, nights are darker, weather is colder and it is perfect for curling up in a chair with a good book. I have just received my author copies of Beneath the Major's Scars,  one of two books I wrote about identical twins, and this, the first book, is released in December. It is such a long time since I wrote this book that I might very well indulge in re-reading it, since it features a part of England that I love, the West Country.

As the title suggests, my hero Dominic Coale, was badly injured during the Peninsula War and has retreated to the wilds of Exmoor to live a solitary existence.  As a West Country girl myself, I love this part of England and have taken great inspiration from the beautiful landscape. The last time we were there I took a walk along one of the bridleways and was amazed at the lovely cobbled surface.  In Dominic's day this was probably one of the main routes, and I could imagine a curricle or carriage rattling over this surface – it made me quite thankful for today's pneumatic tyres and tarmac roads!   

The plot of Beneath the Major's Scars involves a headlong ride to the coast and I used a very isolated and dramatic area for this, Hartland Quay. The picture here shows just how wild and isolated it is. In tudor times it was a thriving port but steadily fell into disuse. It would still have been a busy place in the early 19^th century, so I used a little artistic licence, changed the name and made it much more run-down– and of course the rum  characters I added are entirely fictional!

And just a final note to our friends on the eastern coast of North America – you have suffered enough with the recent storms so maybe you don't want any more excitement at the present time! Understandable, and my thoughts are with you.

Happy reading

Sarah Mallory

Beneath the Major's Scars HH Dec 2012

The Illegitimate Montague M&B 2012

The Holburne Museum in Bath

The Holburne Museum, Bath

The wonderful Holburne Museum sits at the end of Great Pulteney Street, Bath, nestled among the trees and landscape of Sydney Gardens and almost opposite Jane Austen's house at 4, Sydney Place. It houses a beautiful collection of paintings, ceramics, furniture, glass and other treasures which are a delight to study.
The heart of the present day Collection was formed by Sir Thomas William Holburne (1793-1874). As a second son, Thomas William (generally known as William) first pursued a naval career. He ultimately inherited the Baronetcy in 1820 following the death of his elder brother, Francis, at the Battle of Bayonne in 1814.

From 1830, Sir William lived at 10 Cavendish Crescent in Bath with his three unmarried sisters. We don’t know much detail of the circumstances and pattern of Sir William's collecting, but to some inherited family treasures (Chinese armorial porcelain, silver and portraits) he added seventeenth- and eighteenth-century silver and porcelain, Italian maiolica and bronzes, old master paintings, portrait miniatures, books and furniture and a variety of other smaller items including Roman glass, coins, enamels, seals, gems and snuff boxes. All of these give the Collection its unique character.

In 1882 this collection of over 4,000 objects, pictures and books was bequeathed to the people of Bath by Holburne’s sister, Mary Anne Barbara Holburne (1802-1882). From the start, it was intended to form “the nucleus of a Museum of Art for the city of Bath”. Since the Museum opened to the public in 1893, a further 2,500 objects have been acquired. Some of the growth has consisted in filling gaps in the collection: the furniture, for instance, is almost entirely a post-Holburne addition. Holburne Museum Website.

In my new book, Searching for Captain Wentworth, one of my heroes, Josh, is a curator of a special exhibition on Georgian Bathwick at the museum. In this scene, Josh and my heroine Sophie finally bump into one another for a proper introduction. Although they are living in the same house in separate flats, they've never quite managed it though it soon becomes obvious to Josh that he might just have seen his neighbour before.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked, looking at me so searchingly with his dark eyes that I found it difficult to maintain eye contact.

‘Oh, I know you,’ he said, just seconds later before I could answer, as his expression changed to one of smiling recognition.

‘You’re the girl from the Pump Room. Are you living here? I’ve been hearing the occasional footsteps upstairs, and Lara at the pub said someone had moved in.’

I managed to nod my head, but I was blushing more furiously than ever and feeling the heat on my cheeks like a furnace blast from an open oven door.

‘I’m Josh Strafford,’ he said, ‘your neighbour from the downstairs flat. This is such a coincidence, don’t you think?’

‘Sophie Elliot,’ I said, holding out my hand, and then regretting it instantly because it seemed so silly and formal to be shaking hands. But he didn’t shake my hand. He took it and kissed it like some Regency suitor in a romantic novel.

Catherine Cussons by John Hoppner

‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Elliot,’ he said, with a mock bow and in a very serious voice, obviously thinking I was a complete noodle to be behaving so ceremoniously.

I giggled because he looked so solemn, but it did break the ice.

‘That name has a most familiar ring. Are you related to the family that own the house?’ he asked in such a direct way that I was taken aback.

I nodded again, a little hesitantly this time, wondering why he wanted to know.

‘It’s just that I’ve found some of the Elliot family whilst doing some research. I’m over at the museum across the road, temporarily, putting together an exhibition celebrating Georgian Bathwick and its inhabitants. I’ve got lists of people who were in the area at the time and I was interested to find out who was living in the house during the early eighteen hundreds.’

I nodded. ‘I’m the great-niece of the lady who still owns the house which has been in the family since it was first built.’

‘Wow, that’s amazing!’ said Josh, who looked genuinely impressed. ‘The family had a manor house, I believe … Monkford Hall in Somerset.’

‘The family seat,’ I said, smiling at his round-eyed expression.

‘We don’t have it anymore. To my knowledge it passed out of the family after the First World War. They’d lost all their money by then and after the war there was nothing to be done, but sell it.’

Josh looked genuinely disappointed. ‘Oh, that’s a real shame.’

‘Yes, I know, but I imagine great houses must be such a financial drain and always cold. I couldn’t imagine living in one, could you?’

Josh didn’t speak, so to cover the awkward pause I just carried on talking. ‘My mother always kept an old print that gives an idea of what it must have looked like in its heyday. I understand it’s still a private house. I always think it was a shame that she never got to see it again, or have another look inside. Mum died some years ago so she’ll never see it now.’

‘Oh, that’s so sad,’ he said.

As I looked up at him wondering why I was telling this virtual stranger about every aspect of my family history, the thought then struck me that there was a very remote chance that I might be able to visit the house, though I seemed to recall that the Elliots I’d met in the past were to be in Bath for some time and not about to travel. How wonderful it would be, I thought, if I could go back to visit Monkford Hall and walk in the footsteps of my ancestors. I suddenly realized that Josh was staring at me. ‘I haven’t upset you by talking about your family, I hope.’

He must think I’m not all there in the head, I thought, as I became conscious that I’d been standing mute with a faraway expression on my face for longer than I should.

‘No, not at all.’ I felt so embarrassed I picked up the painting in an effort to disguise my flame-red cheeks. ‘I was just going out. It’s really nice to meet you, properly. Of course, I know we met before and everything, but …’

Pricilla Jones by Thomas Barker

There didn’t seem to be anything else to add and what I’d managed to say hadn’t come out at all the way I’d wanted it to. I moved forward and then the agony was prolonged a bit further by the fact that we both went the same way and did that sort of dancing thing where you can’t quite get past each other. The hallway wasn’t very wide as it was and it was getting very ridiculous as we hopped about, until Josh put his hands on my shoulders steering me towards the door. I mumbled my thanks and opened it without looking back. Call me paranoid but I was sure he was watching me as I marched away, cheeks on fire. I didn’t hear the door shut straight away and I could just picture him with a puzzled expression, making a mental note to avoid me at all costs in the future.

To listen to some audio excerpts of Searching for Captain Wentworth click here and to read more about the book click here.

The Holburne Museum always has some fascinating exhibitions on and for anyone with an interest in Georgian art and artefacts it's a must-see destination on a visit to Bath.

Jane Odiwe

A view of Sydney Gardens from the museum

Holland House

Holland House in it's heyday (courtesy of Wikipedia)

As I mentioned in a previous blog post, I find ruins very atmospheric and romantic, but some are just plain sad.  One such, to my mind, is Holland House, in Kensington, west London.

I often walk my dogs in what is now Holland Park, the former grounds of this once magnificent mansion, and every time I look at what is left of the house, I can’t help but feel that it’s a shame it is no longer complete.  It must have been absolutely lovely in its heyday!

Built of brick, with stone and stucco decorations, at the beginning of the 17^th century for Sir Walter Cope, it was originally called Cope Castle, but the name was changed by Cope’s son-in-law, Henry Rich, who inherited it.  Rich, a courtier and soldier, was the younger son of Robert, 1^st Earl of Warwick, and was made Baron Kensington and Earl of Holland by James I.

He made improvements to the house and completed the internal decorations.  Apparently there was a very fine entrance hall and a large drawing room (called the gilt-room) above that with lovely views of the back garden.  There was also a big library, although this may first have been a greenhouse or conservatory as it was said to be up to 90 foot long but only 17 feet wide with lots of windows.

Unfortunately Henry Rich was beheaded in 1649 for trying to help King Charles I during the English Civil War and the house was then used as headquarters by the Parliamentarians under General Fairfax.  One source states that the gilt-room was later haunted by Rich who “issued forth at midnight from behind a secret door and walked slowly through the scenes of former triumphs, with his head in his hand” – spooky!

The front of the house now (just a facade with nothing behind)

The mansion was restored to the ownership of Lord Holland’s widow and children, then rented out to various people.  (Lord Holland’s son succeeded his cousin as Earl of Warwick and thereby united the two earldoms, but later the line became extinct).  In 1768 it was bought by Henry Fox, who was made 1^st Baron Holland.  He had been renting the place since 1749.  Fox, a politician, eloped with a Duke’s daughter – Lady Caroline Lennox – and the couple were married in Fleet prison in 1744.  (You can read about Lady Caroline and her three sisters in Aristocrats by Stella Tilyard – a fascinating book).  Their second son, Charles James Fox, was also a celebrated politician, notable for being pro the American War of Independence and a supporter of the French Revolution, but against slavery.

Under the 3^rd Baron Holland and his wife, the house became one of the country’s most celebrated political salons and attracted some of the greatest names of the age – people like Byron, Talleyrand and Mme de Stael.  Lord Macauley apparently said the house “can boast of a greater number of inmates distinguished in political and literary history than any other private dwelling in England”.  It was also virtually the headquarters of the Whig party (almost always in Opposition) during the first 30 years of the 19^th century.  It sounds like just the kind of place a Regency hero might like to visit and as it wasn't too far out of London, it would have been easily reached.

The title Lord Holland became extinct on the death of the 4^th Baron in 1859 and passed to a distant cousin, whose family continued to own it into the 20^th century.  However, during World War II, in 1940, the building was unfortunately badly hit during a particularly long bombing raid and almost totally destroyed.  It later came to be owned by the local authority and the grounds were made into the park it is today.

Although sad, the remains of the house are not totally wasted – parts of it are used as a youth hostel and the rest as the backdrop for the open air Holland Park Theatre, where they stage operas every summer.  The former Orangery is also used as an exhibition space, as is the Ice House, and the so called Belvedere is now a restaurant.

Waterfall in the Japanese Garden

When you walk in the park, you can clearly see how grand the grounds of Holland House must have been.  Parts of the park have been kept quite wild, which makes it feel as though you are not in the middle of London at all, but almost in the country, as it would once have been (Kensington being a small village on the way to Hammersmith).  The daffodils and bluebells are stunning in spring time!  My favourite part now, however, is a recent addition – the Japanese garden – which is truly beautiful and very peaceful.  I think the former owners would have approved of that.

Christina Courtenay

www.christinacourtenay.com