Word Wenches

A Plethora of Princesses

Pat here:

I’m working on the third Rebellious Son book (yeah, I know, finally) and I’m researching European royalty. I’ve always hated books with make-believe princesses, just as I get annoyed with books where everyone is a spy when England really had no such thing. And then I turn around and write one. There ya go, my nature in a nutshell—perverse. Maybe it's that love/hate relationship that works so well for characters!

So to make my princess credible, I started digging around to see what royalty there was as Napoleon’s juggernaut crushed Europe. Deposed royalty would work fine. My heroine favors a more Mediterranean look than Nordic, so I played around with the most obvious target—Italy. Italy at this time wasn’t the Italy we know now.   As you can see from the map, it’s a bunch of diverse provinces, each with their own version of royalty and probably all related to each other—a veritable plethora of princesses for me to play with.

My book is set in 1809, and by that time, Napoleon had taken a wopping bite out of Tuscany and of course, Corsica.  (photo credit) But at the time France acquired Tuscany, the Duke of Parma was granted Etruria, and that was my aha moment. Skimming through the history, I could see land along the coast line was swapped like playing cards. Napoleon could declare himself King of Italy and give provinces to his sisters and brothers and call them anything he liked, and turn Italy into a dozen duchies, so why shouldn’t I? So somewhere on that Ligurian coastline (annexed by France in 1805), I created the grand duchy of Mirenze. So, my princess wasn’t really a princess except in her own country, which wasn’t really her country anymore. I do love the way my perversion comes together.

(Princess Clothilde 1861) But as we look at these maps and realize how Napoleon almost single-handedly pulled Italy out of its feudal roots and into the 19th century, we’ve got to give the man some respect. Instead of a few dozen warring provinces and states with multiple leaders stabbing each other in the back and marrying their cousins, he eventually created a modern country with civilians instead of serfs. Put another way, he created a United States of Italy, except he had to put on a crown and ruin the effect. Europe did love its crowns.

And then he married all the aristocrats off to his plebian family and called them equal(that's one of his descendants in the photo)—except now Napoleon’s family hobnobs with half the aristocracy of Europe and aren’t faring too badly in the U.S. either. Did you know that a descendant of Napoleon's sister Caroline Bonaparte is actor René Auberjonois of Star Trek, Boston Legal, and numerous other productions? And a descendant of one of Napoleon's brothers was a US Attorney General. I guess that’s about as close to aristocracy as we have in this country. Pretty good job for an old Italian country boy.

So I think my princess-who-isn't-a-princess should be believable enough, I hope.

I’m not entirely certain why we enjoy reading about the aristocracy and royalty, but it certainly gave me a chance to play with culture and social clashes since my princess is actually a sailor’s widow and teaches school.

How about you? Do you prefer royalty to working class or vice versa? What is it about the fantasy that so appeals to us, especially Americans with no aristocracy to speak of?

Is History Bunk?

Anne here, pondering the much bandied-about question of historical accuracy in novels. How historically accurate should an author be? Or can an author be? Which areas are the most important to get right? Language? Dress? Events? Likelihood? Tone? For me it's always a balancing act. (And I know it's not Regency but I couldn't resist this photo of a rather large lady riding on an ostrich.)

Historical language
For me, the portrayal of historical language is like dialect — you need a good whiff of "historicity" to give you the flavor and effect of the era, but not real accuracy. It's like rendering dialect on the page — if totally accurate it would be tedious and difficult to read.

Even written language from the past is often difficult for modern readers to read. One would imagine that using a contemporary account such as a diary or letters from people who lived in that time and place would be foolproof, but even leaving aside differences in interpretation by different individuals, a modern reader still might not buy it.

In my second book, Tallie's Knight, where the characters were making the Grand Tour through France and Italy, I relied heavily on just such original documents. After the book came out, I heard from a fellow author that she'd heard Italian readers complaining that the few Italian phrases I'd used in the book were wrong and it was simply dreadful that I'd made such sloppy mistakes. I asked my friend to ask the readers to write to me directly, and I eventually had an email conversation with one lady.

I showed her my original sources, and her response was more or less, "Oh my goodness, you used 19th century Italian! How marvelous! What wonderful research." Still, my reputation had already been ruined in that quarter by the public discussion of my rotten Italian. So in that case, my historical accuracy counted against me. 

So it doesn't matter if the history is right, as long as it seems right to readers? Maybe.

Historical dress

Dress is probably the easiest area to get right. Thank goodness we have so many paintings and drawings and costumes saved from the past. But even so, one has to remember that the drawings we have from publications such as La Belle Assemblée, were for the rich upper class, and just as most people today don't wear high fashion outfits, the dresses of the magazines of the day would not necessarily be worn by the ordinary people in the street. They'd likely be wearing much older clothes, often repaired and made over, or adapted from even older dresses.

My heroines are often strapped for cash and I enjoy playing with these notions and having them adapt clothes and refurbish garments and hats, as people usually did, and I like to research how they did that.

What about historical events?

The trouble with that is that history is frequently in the interpretation. People might be able to agree on a date or an isolated fact or two, but stories are brought to life through images and sensations and command of fine detail. If you can lay your hands on an eye witness account or two, that helps, but even so, witnesses differ, and not just in small details.

I remember a superb documentary I watched once on the Roman occupation of Wales. It opened with an eminent Oxbridge historian presenting a very plausible introduction of how the Romans occupied Wales, and how the Welsh had responded. There was a filmed reenactment and all — thrilling stuff.

Then on came a quite different, equally eminent historian who stared into the camera and said in a strong Welsh accent, "Absolute rubbish!" And then gave his version of what happened, which was just as reasonable and logical and fascinating, based on exactly the same evidence — and was quite, quite different. The whole documentary was presented like that, as a kind of debate and it was wonderful. (And I know the photo above is neither Roman nor Welsh, but it's Clive, so I rest my case, that sometimes we prefer fantasy to accuracy)

And how far do we go with historical attitudes?
Classism, sexism, racism and more — all were alive and well in my period. Do I show my characters as racist/sexist/classist as they were most likely to be? Dear readers, I have to admit I don't. I try not to give my people modern enlightened attitudes but there are areas into which I refuse to stray.

I want my readers to like my characters and wish them well, and if they're showing abhorrent attitudes, no matter how historically likely those attitudes might be, readers (and their author) won't like them. (There's also the additional problem that many readers assume that the attitudes and prejudices expressed by characters are also those of the author, and I certainly don't want to go there, either.)

Do readers want historical accuracy anyway?
I suspect most don't. Many of the genre's most popular authors stray more to the "history-lite" side of the line, but readers love their stories and their characters, and simply don't care if the characters sound more like modern Americans (or Australians) than 19th Century English people. In fact some prefer it, because it makes the books more accessible to modern readers.

Historical writers are a bit like those historians debating about the Welsh and the Romans — we each have to decide what our own take is on historical accuracy, and in the end, it's more about the creation of a vibrant, plausible and exciting fictional world than it is about history.

Laurie, on All About Romance said" Some readers demand a great deal of history in their romance. Others prefer a smattering." So what about you? Do like a meaty helping of history, or a light snack? Do you have a favorite "history-lite" author whose writing can make you forget about history and just read for the story? What kind of historical inaccuracy really bugs you? And what's the best historical romance (or historical crime or any other historical sub-genre) you've read lately?

PS Having been asked for further details of the Welsh History program I mentioned, I've since discovered it was called The Dragon Has Two Tongues, a 13 part series on the history of Wales that was broadcast 20+ years ago, and though I couldn't find the Roman episode on line, here's the first episode of the series: http://tinyurl.com/bqkdons

Joanna Bourne Brings Home the RITA!

The Wenches are happy. Joanna is happy. Joanna's publisher is happy.  The Black Hawk is happy.  Yesterday, Joanna won a RITA for her 2011 historical romance, The Black Hawk. The announcement was made yesterday at the Romance Writers of America annual conference. Joanna was so sure she wouldn't win that she hadn't even left room in her suitcase for the RITA. We suspect Joanna has now found room for that little statuette in her luggage! Big congratulations, Joanna. Couldn't happen to a nicer person!  

 

Life in a Georgian House

Nicola here, fresh from a fabulous research trip to Edinburgh! I'm writing a new trilogy set in Scotland. Book 1, The Lady and the Laird, is set in the Highlands and Islands, book 2 in Edinburgh and book 3 in the Scottish Borders, so of course I have to go and visit. A lot. Visiting Scotland is no hardship for me. It’s one of my favourite places in the world.

But I had not been to Edinburgh before and I knew I had only a few days to pack in all the things I wanted to see, so before I went I put together a “must see” list. Top of that list was The Georgian House in Charlotte Square, in Edinburgh’s New Town. (Edinburgh has an “old” and a “new” town. The Old Town is ancient – even the “new” one dates from the late 18^th century. In that, it’s rather like the “New” Forest. Newness is relative.) Lady Mairi MacLeod, heroine of the second book in my series, has a fashionable town house - as well as a little tenement building in the Old Town that she uses for secret purposes, and The Georgian House was going to be my model for Mairi’s home.

In 1766 the architect James Craig won the competition to design Edinburgh New Town. Numerous plans to improve Edinburgh had been put forward over the preceding years but it was only in the mid-18^th century that there was the political stability and increasing wealth to do so. The New Town was to be a fashionable residential area for the wealthy and privileged, away from the cramped and squalid living conditions of the Old Town. (These days the Old Town is fascinating with tiny narrow alleys and charming ancient buildings but in the 18^th century it was filthy and smelly with people packed into the tenements and throwing their waste out into the streets.) The New Town was also intended to turn Edinburgh into a centre of culture and commerce.

The New Town developed over the following 50 years. In 1791 Robert Adam designed the north side of Charlotte Square, where the Georgian House is situated at number 7. The first owner of the house was John Lamont, 18^th Chief of Clan Lamont and he paid £1800 for it. The National Trust for Scotland has restored the house to look as it would have done in 1796. I was particularly interested in the original colour schemes, the lighting and all those little details that are so important to create authentic atmosphere. Fortunately the staff were unfailingly patient with all my questions and were also extremely knowledgeable.

Here are a few of the quirky facts I picked up on my visit (and a fabulous photo of the Georgian House from the outside by Alan Bulley. Thank you for letting us use your photo, Alan.

The first thing I learned was how useful a lobby was outside the main hall. It was here that there were plain wooden seats for servants to wait on and also a table for visitors to leave their cards. The lobby led to an inner hall and staircase that was top lit by an oval dome. Great care was taken to light the staircase both from above and from the lamps that illuminated the steps. Interestingly the main social season in Edinburgh was during the winter not the late spring and summer, as in London, and so natural light was in short supply during the hours of entertaining. Houses would have been rather dark a lot of the time.

The Drawing Room

The grand drawing room is on the first floor and was used only for entertaining. When the house was first occupied guests would have been taken directly there to be greeted by the host and hostess. For everyday living – family gatherings, reading, needlework, taking tea - there was a “back” drawing room, or parlour, which was more intimate and more informal. The decoration of this smaller room matched that of the main drawing room. This room was also used by the gentleman of the house for business meetings, which it was perfectly acceptable for him to conduct in his dressing gown – but only in the morning!

The grand drawing room had a fitted carpet which I found fascinating as I hadn’t realised there was any such thing during the later Georgian period. When there was dancing the carpet was covered with a thick rug for protection. This seemed rather dangerous and might account for any number of dancers tripping up!

The curtains in the drawing room were also very interesting as they were festoon curtains, which I had not known were in fashion in the period. I had assumed that the more familiar long curtains (which they had in the other rooms) were standard to the period. The stripy seat fabric is also authentic to the Regency period.

Dining

Lord Cockburn’s Memorials, published in 1856, gives an interesting account of evening dining in late 18^th and early 19^th century Edinburgh. When dinners were early, around 4pm, the habit was to have another meal, supper, in the evening. As dinner moved to be later in the evening so supper moved back too because as Lord Cockburn said: “suppers are so delightful… I have often heard strangers say that Edinburgh was the only place where people dined twice a day. Supper is cheaper than dinner; shorter, less ceremonious and more poetical.”

The dining chairs in the Georgian House were covered in red leather, which was traditional because leather was easily cleaned of any spillages and always looked good! There was also a dumb waiter in the room, a small lift operated on a pulley system for when the servants were not required to wait at table. Gossip and scandal were sold by servants from one house to another – hence the name.

 Apparently the white damask tablecloth would be removed before the dessert and the table relaid, although I'm not sure what the guests did whilst this happened. Chat amongst themselves, perhaps? Table napkins of the period were rectangular and were folded flat. There were no fancy shapes of fans or animals at this date! 

The Water Closet

Between the dining room and the bedroom was a water closet. This contained a portable early 19^th century “receiver.” When the brass handle was pulled upwards the hand filled water tank at the back flushed the pan which emptied into the a copper box below. The end result was the same however (as it were). It was the servant who had to empty the box, having placed a brass cap over the opening to “prevent the smell.” Naturally there were also chamber pots in use, this one displayed prominently on the dressing table!

The Bedroom

It was the tradition in Edinburgh to have the main bedchamber on the ground floor overlooking the garden at the back of the house. No need for the hero (or heroine) to climb any ivy here to make a clandestine entrance! The bedroom also served as an informal parlour where ladies would take tea.

The servants

As was traditional, the servants’ quarters were down in the basement. This was painted in drab colours; apparently all the left over paint from the rooms upstairs was put in a pot and mixed together and used to decorate the servants’ quarters!

The bell board in the Georgian House showed bells with spiral springs unlike English ones, which were generally curved like a question mark.

The kitchen was painted blue which was the traditional colour to keep flies away! I’m not sure if this works…

At the top of the house there were rooms with lots more detail of life in Georgian Edinburgh, including the fact that sedan chairs remained popular into the Regency period and the use of them far outweighed that of hackney carriages!

It was the detail of life in the Georgian House and Georgian Edinburgh that really made the place come alive for me. When you are reading about the lives of our ancestors what is it that interests you? The food? Travel? Clothes? (At the Georgian House I was able to make my own fichu too!) Entertainments?

A Grand Pleasure Bath

As you know, I'm always exploring primary sources for my period. A while ago I came across a snippet from 1766. "We are informed that a grand Pleasure-Bath is intended to be made this Summer in Richmond-Gardens, for the Reception of the Royal Family." This would be at Richmond Lodge, which George III and family used as a summer retreat.

"Although in 1761 a guidebook stated that the Lodge was ‘unsuitable to the dignity of a King of England’, part of the royal couple’s honeymoon was spent there and for seven years from 1764 Richmond was the royal family’s chief country retreat, where they would stay from June to late October." (From the web site on the Royal Collection.)

Richmond Lodge was demolished in 1772. You can see an image here. The royal family then took their summer break at Kew House, which is now called the White House or the White Lodge.

Here's a reminder that even royalty in the 18th century couldn't do anything they wanted. "...it came to Queen Caroline's daughter, Princess Amelia, in 1751. The Princess, who also became the ranger of Richmond Park, closed the entire park to the public, except to distinguished friends and those with permits, sparking public outrage. In 1758, a court case made by a local brewer against a park gatekeeper eventually overturned the Princess's order, and the park was once again opened to the public."

Even now, every now and then some rich and famous foreigner -- generally American, I have to say -- buys an English estate and starts to make it private, closing down public footpaths and rights of way. After all, they can't have just anybody wandering through....

Sorry, that comes with the territory. Ancient rights are ancient rights.

Perhaps a desire to scare off invaders explains why Queen Charlotte, wife of George II, apparently kept tigers at Richmond!

Another oddity from Charlotte we have her  Hermit's Grotto and Merlin's Cave, the latter created about 1735 at Richmond. It was adorned with astrological symbols, and contained wax-work figures, of which the wizard Merlin was the chief. There's more about this structure here. Both were knocked down in 1770, so there's still time to find a use for them in a Malloren book. 

But What About the Pleasure Pool?

Despite digging and trawling I've found no more information about George III's pleasure pool at Richmond, so perhaps it was never constructed. There is a great deal about another pleasure pool of the period, perhaps the inspiration for the desire -- the Peerless Pool in London.

I'd heard of it, but never taken a close look, so I was surprised to find that it wasn't simply a pool enhanced to make it more pleasant for swimming, but something we would recognize today as a "swimming pool." It was large, rectangular, and with a reasonably solid bottom of gravel. It had steps to go down on, and a depth that went from four feet at the edges to five feet in the middle, with one end only three feet for the very nervous -- or short, I suppose! Not for diving, you'll note.

It was created in 1743 by a Mr. Kemp transforming a piece of water called the Perilous Pool, because people regularly drowned there. I get the impression this wasn't suicidal, but from a fondness among boys and men for swimming.(That, and the praise of trees to give shade, does rather suggest hot summers, doesn't it, she mutters with a sigh.) Boys swam in the Thames, and perhaps in other rivers, but they were polluted, tidal, and in the case of the Thames busy highways. A safe place to swim, and even to learn to swim, was a big hit.

It was 170 feet long and 100 feet wide. The length is a bit more than an olympic swimming pool, which is 164 feet. There were changing facilities.

I'm a bit puzzled by this bit of a contemporary description. "On the south side is a neat arcade, under which
is a looking glass over a marble slab, and a small collection of books for the entertainment of the subscribers."(Quotations are from A new and universal history: description and survey of the cities of London and Westminister, the borough of Southwark, and their adjacent parts (Google eBook)1776)

The books I can understand, but the looking glass over a marble slab? Hanging over and simply for looking at oneself? But then why is the marble slab mentioned? On the ceiling, reflecting the marble slab? Why?

Turn a stone in the past and we find mysteries.

Another one about the Peerless Pool is this. "Here is also a cold bath, generally allowed to be the largest in England, it being 40 feet long and 20 feet broad, with flights of steps and dressing rooms at each end."

All right, am I suppose to believe that the Peerless Pool was heated?

I can't, because I've read many descriptions and none mentions it, or temperature at all -- apart from those annoying references to hot sun. Perhaps the cold pool was fed directly from a spring that ran cold, or perhaps it was particularly deep, so it held the cold....

In another account I found that was basically true. The cold bath was only four feet deep, but the floor was a grid beneath which was another five feet of water, fed by a particularly cold spring. Cold bathing was considered of medical benefit. In 1811 a doctor wrote: "We have in London several handsome cold baths for medical purposes, but they are at too low a temperature for amusement or for swimming in—Such are the baths in Harley-street, in Bagnio.court, at Peerless Pool, &c. The cold bath in Harley-street is about the temperature of 54 degrees. Thecold bath at Peerless Pool is something lower,about 52 degrees, and this I believe to be the coldest in London. The warm baths are for the most part mere marble troughs—in which the bather, imprisoned, sits, or reclines; and into which he can admit by turning a stop cock, either hot or cold water, at pleasure." (From Cursory remarks on contagious diseases and on baths.)

There was also a large fish pond, well stocked, and a tree-lined walk.

A gentleman could enjoy all of this for an annual subscription of one guinea. (21 shillings, or close to a modern pound.)

Here's a description of arrival. "You enter from a bowling-green on the south side, by a neat arcade thirty feet long, furnished with a small collection of modern books for the entertainment of those subscribers
who delight in reading. Contiguous are many dressing apartments; some of which are open, and others rendered private, all paved with purbeck stone ; and on each side of the bath is a bower divided into apartments for dressing. At the other end is placed a circular bench, capable of accommodating forty gentlemen at a sitting, under the shelter of a wall. One side is inclosed by a mount i50 feet long, planted with a great variety of shrubs, and on the top is an agreeable terrace walk planted with limes. "
(From London and its environs described: Containing an account of whatever is most remarkable for grandeur, elegance, curiosity or use, in the city and in the country twenty miles round it. Comprehending also whatever is most material in the history and anitquities of this great metropolis, Volume 5 1761)

Other people have blogged about the Peerless Pool. 

Jane Austen's World.

This interesting blog relates past items with present London.

Here's another interesting side-note. In 1761 models of ships were tested at the Peerless Pool to test what made a good ship good. There were four 32-gun frigates and two 74-gun ships.

Does the nature of the Peerless Pool surprise you as much as it did me? There are so many things about London in the 18th century to be discovered in order to have a well-rounded life for our characters. So much going on.

Cheers,

Jo

 

 

Silk & Shadows

by Mary Jo

I’m in crazy deadline madness, so I don’t have a lot of time for writing a deeply scintillating blog, but instead of pulling a classic, it occurred to me that I could do something fun: tell you about how I wrote one of books!  Is that great or what?  <G>

(I’m reminded of a cartoon I once saw, probably from The New Yorker, which showed a couple on a first date.  The guy, a pretentious literary looking sort, is saying, “But that’s enough about me.  Now let me tell you about my book.”  <G>)

At any rate, some people enjoy hearing the story behind the story, so here it is for Silk and Shadows, book 1 in my Silk trilogy.  (That's the new e-book version with its wonderful Kimberly Killion cover.)

It’s hard to pinpoint the exact genesis of most books, but as a kid, I used to study the maps on the rack on the classroom blackboards when I was bored.  I particularly liked the map of the world, which showed great, empty spaces in the center of Asia.  What was there?  What mysteries lurked in the vastness?  It’s not surprising that I’ve written several books with Asian settings.

In terms of plot, I was intrigued by the idea of revenge, and a man who has lived for a justified vengeance.  His fury kept him alive and shaped his life.  But ultimately, if he is to have any kind of future, he must relinquish his vengeance.  Yes, the hero of S&S was one of the long line of my tortured heroes. <G> 

By its nature, the story became my version of Dumas's The Count of Monte Cristo.   A mysterious, enigmatic man from the east enters civilized society.  He is charming and charismatic and has wealth beyond imagining.  He is also ruthless, and nothing will stop him from accomplishing his secret agenda.

Nothing except, perhaps, love. 

Since I’m a great believer in laying everything out, the book has one of my favorite first lines:  “He called himself Peregrine, the wanderer, and he came to London for revenge.”

The story is set in 1839, the very early Victorian era, because the world was opening up.  Bold explorers were charting unknown lands and the Industrial Revolution was changing the nature of society.  Mikahl Kahnauri, known as Prince Peregrine of Kafiristan, has an entrée into London society because he saved the life of Lord Ross Carlisle, an aristocratic explorer and travel writer.  They had become friends—and Ross is now an unwitting tool of Peregrine’s revenge. 

I had a fabulous time researching this book.  While looking for a plausibly mysterious background for my hero, I came across the chronicles of real British explorers like Sir Alexander Burnes (left) who crossed the vast and empty tracts of Central Asia.  (Left)

A real rescue mission to Bokhara fascinated me so much it became the inspiration for Silk and Secrets, second in the trilogy, and the story of Lord Ross Carlisle.  I had to force myself to go back to my original story of Peregrine—and Lady Sara St. James. 

Lady Sara is Ross’s cousin, and the complete antithesis of Peregrine.  She is gentle and blond and kind, the fiancée of Peregrine’s enemy—and she has a core of pure steel.  Here’s an excerpt from when they first meet:

    As soon as Sara saw the tall, black-haired man, she knew that he was Ross’s newly arrived friend. Then she questioned her conclusion, wondering why she was so certain. His skin was dark, but no more than that of a weathered farmer, his craggy features were not noticeably foreign, and his superbly tailored black clothing was quintessentially British. Nonetheless, she was sure that he could only be Prince Peregrine of Kafiristan.
    It was the way he moved, she decided, fluid and feral as a predator, wholly unlike the way a European walked. She saw how women watched him covertly and was not surprised, for there was something about the Kafir that would make women spin foolish fantasies about sensuous savages who were really nature’s noblemen, untrammeled by civilization. Sara smiled at her own foolishness, then lost sight of the prince as she talked to one of her father’s elderly cousins.
    Quite suddenly the currents of the party brought her face-to-face with Prince Peregrine. Sara tilted her head up as she opened her mouth to welcome her guest, but her voice died unborn as his intense gaze caught and held hers. The prince’s eyes were a clear, startling green, a color unlike any other she had ever seen, a wild, exotic reminder that this was a man raised under different skies, by different rules. The unknowable green depths beckoned, promising…promising what?
It would be easy to drown in those eyes, to throw propriety and honor aside, and count the world well lost.... 
    Shocked and disoriented by her thoughts, Sara swallowed and forced her mind back to reality. Extending her hand, she said, “I am your hostess, Sara St. James. Surely you are Prince Peregrine?”
    His black slashing brows rose in mock despair. Taking her hand, he said in a deep resonant voice, “It is so obvious? And here I thought I was wearing correct native dress. Perhaps I should sell the tailor to the tin mines for failing me.” He had a faint, husky accent, and his pronunciation was slightly over-precise, but otherwise his English was flawless.
    Sara laughed. “It is not British custom to sell people to the mines, as I’m sure you know. Besides, your tailor is not at fault. There is an old proverb that clothes make the man, but that is only a partial truth. What really makes a man is his experiences, and your face was not formed by an English life.”
    “Very true.” The prince still clasped Sara’s hand. His own hand was well shaped and well groomed, but had the hardness that resulted from physical labor.
Sara remembered a demonstration of electricity she had once seen, for she felt as if a powerful current was flowing from him to her. It radiated from his warm clasp and those unnerving green eyes, and made her disturbingly aware of his sheer maleness. Perhaps an arduous mountain life had made the prince so lithe and strong, so attractive that she wanted to run her hands over his body, feel his muscles, draw him close....
    It took all of Sara’s training in graciousness not to snatch her hand back. The blasted man must be a mesmerist! Or perhaps the resemblance was to a cobra hypnotizing a rabbit. 
    She took a deep breath, telling herself not to be fanciful, the prince was merely different from what she was used to. Ross had once told her that Asiatics stood closer together than Europeans when they conversed. That was why she was so aware of the man’s nearness. 
    Disengaging her hand from his, she took a step back. “Local custom permits kissing a woman’s hand, or perhaps shaking it, but the rule is that the hand must be returned promptly.’’
    His mobile features fell into lines of profound regret. “A thousand apologies, Lady Sara. I knew that, but forgot. So many things to remember. You will forgive my occasional lapses?”
    “I can see that you are going to be a severe trial, Your Highness.” Sara hoped her voice sounded normal. Her hand still tingled where they had touched, and she felt abnormally sensitive, like a butterfly newly emerged from its cocoon. The flowers smelled sweeter, the music sounded brighter, the air itself pulsed with promise.

 I loved the darkness and passion of the hero, and the profound moral choice at the heart of the story.  I was also tickled when a writer friend told me that when she hit a particular point in the book, she thought she knew what was going to happen, and she was so upset that she put the book down and walked away.

Then she resumed rereading, and found I’d done something quite different.  Music to an author’s ears. <G>  

I love the stories and characters of the Silk Trilogy, and I’m really happy that the books are now available in e-editions. One of the pluses of e-booking was reading through the whole scanned manuscript, looking for errors and possible changes.  It gave me a plausible excuse to fall in love with my characters all over again. <G>

Not all readers like exotic settings and backgrounds, and I can understand why.  Reading them requires a greater investment of time and energy, resources which are often in short supply.  But people who like them tend to really like them. 

So what about you?  Do you like exotic settings?  If so, what books have particularly charmed you?  Are there any settings that you’d like to see? 

Mary Jo, warning that sooner or later she'll be talking about Silk and Secrets and Veils of Silk, the other books in the trilogy.

Going For The Gold

Cara Andrea here, It’s been HOT where I am—the sort of bright, blistering days that are conducive to curling up in a shady spot with a book and an iced lemonade, rather than moving so much as a muscle. But as the resident Wench Jock, I have to confess that I’m jumping up and down with anticipation over the upcoming Olympic Games in London. Despite all the questions concerning ‘enhanced performance” I still love watching the athletes compete in the various disciplines and strive to be the best they can be.  Now, many of the sports you'll see over  were popular in Regency London too—fencing, boxing riding. (Though I admit, the men were not swimming in sleek litle Speedos)Be that as it may, as we gear up for the action-packed fortnight, I thought it might be fun to take a short run through the history of the Games, even though it steps a bit outside our usual time periods. So lace up your sneakers . . . (though the first Olympians competed in the nude!)

The first Olympic Games on record took place in 776 BC on the plains of Olympia in the western part of the Peloponnese, and were held every four years (an “olympiad” was a measure of time in ancient Greece,  which—you guessed it—was a four year unit. As all the different city states had their own calendars and dating methods, it provided a unified way to record history events.)

The competitions were loosely tied to the cult of Zeus—the main temple of Olympia was and was highlighted by a 42-foot tall, gold and ivory decorated statue of the God by famed sculptor Pheidias, which was considered one of the 7 Wonders of the Ancient World. However, they were also meant to foster friendly relations between the city states and celebrate the pure beauty of physical performance. All free male Greek citizens, regardless of social standing, were permitted to compete, but women were banned from participating. Indeed, married women were forbidden to watch, though for some reason unmarried women were permitted as spectators. (I shall leave it to you to speculate why . . . apparently men seeking to impress chicks with their buffed abs is not a new concept.)

According to Hippias of Elis, the first event ever held was the stadium, a footrace approximately 200 meters long. In 724 BC, a two-stadia race was added, and in 708 the pentathlon, which consisted of running, jumping, javalin-throwing  and discus-throwing, became part of the games. Other competitions were added throughout the years, including wrestling and the pankration, a sort-of ancient version of martial arts, which combined wrestling and boxing. It was a brutal sport, and said to have originated from Theseus’s fight in the Labyrinth with the Minotaur (there were no judges to pick the winner as in modern-day competition—the contest went on until one man conceded defeat or was rendered unconscious.

The Games continued for nearly twelve centuries (not even the Persian Wars and the Battle of Thermopylae tripped up the competition) until the Byzantine Emperor Theodosius I, a Christian, banned them as pagan rites. They lay dormant until the late 19th century when a movement led by Baron Pierre de Coubertin of France led to their revival. The first modern Olympics took place in Athens in 1896, and the first race was won by an American—college student James Connolly.

London first held the Games in 1908—though they were a last minute substitute for Rome, which, because of the relief effort needed to cope with the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, did not have the money to hold the event. Despite the obstacles, the Britis put on a jolly good show. There were a number of firsts—for the first time a stadium was built specially for the competition, for the first time swimming was held in man-made pool rather than open water, and for the first—and last—time, tug of war was an official event!

The Games of 1948—called the Austerity Games—were also held in London. They had been suspended with the advent of World War II, but it was felt that resuming them in bomb-ravaged London was a good way to rekindle the flame of international friendship through athletic competition (though Germany and Japan were not included.) The event was run on a shoestring (athletes were expected to bring their own towels, and because of rationing, protein was in short supply.)

Things will no doubt be a bit more glitzy when the 2012 Games return to London for a third time, beginning next week. So what about you—do you enjoy watching the Olympics? Do you have a favorite sport? A favorite athlete? I’m really looking forward to the swimming events, which offers some really exciting match-ups between the Americans Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte. And I’m pulling for Roger Federer to win a gold in tennis!
 

Knight of the Pisse-Pot

The Wenches’ in-house medical wizard, Dr. Josh, is back again to talk a little about medieval medicine from a nephrologist’s point of view (recently he completed a fellowship in nephrology at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore). So here’s Dr. Josh, or as he might have been called in the 15^th century, the Knight of the Pisse-Pot . . .

Dr. Josh, if you could time-leap through history from 2012 to 1412, what treatments and methods would you use as a medieval physician? (And what exactly is nephrology – would medieval medical practitioners recognize it?)

As a nephrologist, a specialist in kidney medicine, I sometimes need to explain my field even to patients in my office! The word is derived from nephros, Greek for 'kidney,' and is also referred to as renal medicine, from the Latin renalis. Kidney medicine deals with medical disorders of the kidneys and their treatment (including dialysis and kidney transplants). It’s a small but important field of internal medicine. The function of the kidneys is to make urine, so interpretation of a patient’s urine in laboratories and examination under the microscope plays an important part in diagnosing patients and monitoring their kidney conditions.

In the Middle Ages, urine was truly regarded as the elixir of life, the unparalleled window into all disease. Medieval physicians even specialized in this -- "pisse prophet" was a medieval term for those who diagnosed by looking at urine -- color, cloudiness or clarity, and so on. They didn't have lab reports to rely on, but did have some basic ability, since color, cloudiness, etc. can be markers of some conditions. "Knight of the Pisse-Pot" was another term for these docs -- much more interesting than nephrologist!

Medieval pisse-prophets and pisse-pot knights sometimes divined more than health reports from the appearance and smell of the pee in the glass vial. They weren't exactly objective diagnosticians, and some were little better than scam artists – which I’ll explain shortly.

Uroscopy, the ancient art of examining the urine, is still a big part of a nephrologist's medical practice, although now we examine urine with the use of a centrifuge, microscope and various chemical reactions to detect and measure protein, blood, and other substances. In the Middle Ages, urine examination was done by sight, by odor, and, of course, by taste.

And sometimes urine was the only thing physicians examined—they might not even bother to see the patient, regarding urine as the more important source of information. Galen's four humours (black bile, yellow bile, phlegm and blood, which determined the melancholic, choleric, phlegmatic and sanguine personalities or physical types) were key components of medicine from the 2nd century until the 18th and even 19th centuries. All could be ascertained by examining the urine, so it was believed.

But long ago, a more dramatic, mystical--and fraudulent--practice pervaded medieval medicine: uromancy, described as "the bastard brother of uroscopy" in the Journal of the American Medical Association four decades ago. Practitioners of uromancy claimed that urine could diagnose everything about a person -- not only their condition and afflictions, but their sex, age, and the future course of diseases. Uromancy was so popular that medieval physicians were expected to practice that in addition to more reliable methods – and it was less expensive and believed to be very reliable. Physicians could only diagnose and give the limited cures of the day – a uromancer could predict the patient’s future health, a sort of crystal ball-in-a-vial.

Propping up this system were "pisse-bearers" who would run the vials of urine from the patient to the doctor and return to the patient with the diagnosis. A pisse-bearer would extravagantly praise the doctor's diagnostic acumen (this was contingent on getting a cut of the examination fee). Thomas Brian, a Cambridge-trained physician, got so fed up with this system that he published his famous tome The Pisse-Prophet in 1637, a scathing tell-all about the pisse-pot scam, and how competition and patient demand trapped physicians into participating. The book did not manage to take down uromancy (likely because books were difficult to come by, as was literacy, so few read it), but it's now a fascinating historical reminder of how far we’ve come, how what we hope to hear from our doctors may not be what they are able to offer, and why it’s important to for medical practice to be based in reality.

What else might you do as a medieval urine specialist?

Today urine specialists are either nephrologists, who deal with metabolic consequences of kidney disease, or urologists, who deal with conditions involving the “plumbing” downstream from the kidneys. One area where the two overlap is in kidney stones: urologists break up and remove stones, while nephrologists recommend diets and medications to prevent formation of stones.

Medieval doctors who specialized in stones were lithotomists, literally “stone-cutters,” early surgeons who would cut open the bladder to remove painful stones. But without anesthesia and antiseptic technique, their procedures were not only painful but frequently fatal. Lithotomists would often travel from town to town advertising their profession and offering to cut stones from those who were suffering –- and these itinerant lithotomists would often beat feet before the post-operative infections set in.

It was not until modern surgical standards of anesthesia and hand-washing set in before matters improved to any great deal!

One last thought -- while I do enjoy being a 21^st century nephrologist -– it would be much more impressive to have “uromancer” on my business cards!

Thanks for another interesting trip through historical medicine! Dr. Josh, Uromancer, sounds pretty good, though Knight of the Pisse-Pot has a certain ring too! 

Dr. Josh is happy to address questions about historical medicine if you have any, and if he knows the answer!   

Susan

 

 

 

Ask A Wench--Difficult Books

Pat here with our Ask A Wench for July. Liz Veronis asked: Which was the most difficult of your books to write, because of emotional investment, time demands, editor problems, etc.?
For her insightful question, she wins a copy of one of my books.

From Susan King:
Oh, the difficult books! They're like kids (or cats, dogs, or whatever!) that sometimes need more than the other kids, and you love them all the same. Sometimes it's the story itself if the elements aren't fitting together as neatly as hoped, and sometimes it's outside circumstances that make that book-mountain a little steeper to climb.

One of my biggest challenges was getting past outside obstacles while writing a book that was going very well. When deep in the research and writing of The Stone Maiden, loving the story of my stone-carving Scottish heroine and her English knight, I suddenly needed major surgery with a few weeks to deadline. I set the work aside, got through the hospital stuff and got back to work as fast as I could, with dragging energy and an extended deadline. A couple of weeks later, one of my sisters died unexpectedly--I had another hurdle to clear, and no more extensions available. So I shelved the grief best I could and finished the book. I think Stone Maiden was a better, stronger, richer book for the experiences that I went through during its creation.

I'll admit that Lady Macbeth was no picnic to write either -- a bigger book than I had ever done, with more demands on me as a writer, a researcher, a historian. But that's the sort of challenge I love, and I was plowing through like a pig in mud...until editorial committee decided their hardcovers that year should be shorter for marketing reasons. Suddenly my nearly complete manuscript of 134,000 words had to come in at around 100,000. Chunks of the story went flying -- really I went after adverbs first and weeded through to preserve the story. Yet whole scenes had to go, so if here and there the story takes a bit of a jump -- that's probably why! ... Lady Macbeth did live up to her reputation as a little bit difficult to deal with...but I love her anyway.  ----

From Mary Jo:

Most difficult book to write?  I can’t come up with just one, because there are different ways for a book to be difficult.  (All books are difficult; some are just more difficult!)
 
My top three list would include Veils of Silk, which is the longest book I ever wrote, with two tortured characters, and a vast, sweeping plot that included much adventure, several cultures, and subplots galore as my protagonists end up trying to stop an Afghan invasion of India.  Plus, I was late delivering the book and writing in a white hot fever as I tried to reach the end of the !#$%^&! book.  When I delivered, my editor thought it was basically okay, but something was off, and she didn’t know what. 
 
Not a lot of help there!  But a friend of mine who later became an editor read through and said the problem was pacing.  She helped me figure out how to tighten the book, which was a very fine skill to acquire.
 
Also on my “difficult” list would be my first contemporary, The Burning Point.  I had to figure out how to write in a modern setting and develop a contemporary voice.  (Less description, more dialogue, among other things.)  A first book in a new genre is always a learning experience, but never more than here.  Ultimately, I did find out how to do it, but there were also editor problems that resulted in the book being pulled and later sold elsewhere.  
 
There are plenty of contenders for the third spot: Nowhere Near Respectable, in which I reached the middle and realized that the set-up totally would not work for the last half of the book. 
 
Or Dark Mirror, which was another example of the challenges of being the first book in a new genre. 
 
Or Dark Destiny, out just this month.  As my third YA, I had sort of figured out the voice, but the cascade of deadlines caused by taking on too many books meant that I had a flat three months to write the whole book.  I know people for whom that speed is normal, but me?  No way! 
 
None the less, the book was completed and delivered about ten seconds before the clock struck midnight, after which I felt like road kill for weeks. <g>  (Moral: do not agree to write books faster than you can write!)
 
Interesting, some of my books with the most difficult issues for the characters have turned out to be easier to write.  I guess the narrative power of the problems drove the book quickly.
 
As for the book I’m working on now, Sometimes a Rogue—is it a difficult one?  I’ll let you know!
 
 
From Anne:


The books I've had most difficulty writing are the ones I was trying to write while my elderly parents were sick or dying — a slow decline, rather than a short, dramatic illness. That kind of stress seems to affect me in one of two ways: either I go dark and intense in the writing, or I go fun and light — pure escapism. I've also been late with several books for family reasons, but my editor has always been supportive. Strangely enough, nobody ever seems to be able to pick the books I've had most trouble writing, which is a relief.
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From Nicola:

I've had difficulties with different books for different reasons. My second book, The Virtuous Cyprian, had editorial problems - my then editor took it from me before I was happy with it and I never had the chance to revise it to my satisfaction. I found that very difficult. I also find it hard to write when under stress. Some people find that they can escape into writing from other problems that are going on in their lives and whilst I've occasionally been able to do this, most frequently I find that the stress weighs my writing down so that each word feels as though it's been dragged from treacle. I've had quite a few treacle books over the past few years as a result of family illness and other problems. Then there are deadlines. Sometimes a deadline focuses my mind and I become quite prolific; at other times it paralyses me. The most difficult book from that point of view was Mistress by Midnight. I re-wrote it three times because I simply could not get it right and the clock was ticking and I was awake all night panicking about it whilst my editor was ringing me whilst on holiday to try and help! As long as the problems don't show too much in the final book then I'm happy.
 ------------------

From Jo Beverley:

Back around 1990, when I was a new author, I hit a health problem. It started  vaguely and then turned into panic attacks. Having often been accused of being too phlegmatic, this was new, but I put it down to hyperglycemia, and some  instant sugar did seem to help.  

But then I got agoraphobia -- the word means a terror of open spaces. If I walked more than a block from my house I would get a full-blown panic attack,  and if you've never had one the main symptom is the heart racing at a speed  that no heart should race. Once I turned back toward home, it settled down.

I  thought I was going crazy, and my doctor was beginning to talk about Valium.  Later I realized this was my body screaming, "You're anemic. Your stores of  iron are critically low. Get in trouble that involves bleeding and you will die. Go home, sit in a safe chair and do nothing."  The anemia was due to very heavy periods, by the way, a not uncommon thing as we approach menopause.

Iron supplements sorted it out, but over quite a few  months. The key factor here was not the iron in my blood, which stayed within  acceptable levels through most of this, but my back-up store of iron, which is measured by a blood test for ferritin levels. For some reason doctors rarely do  this test, but it was my ferritin stores that were going down and down until I  had virtually no reserves to call on. Please, if you or anyone you know is  having panic attacks, get the ferritin checked. I try to spread the word on  this, and it's helped a lot of people. 

This problem came on and worked out over the best part of a year, and I was  trying to write The Fortune Hunter then. My problems didn't prevent me from  sitting down to write, but I knew the book wasn't going well. Later, when I was  better and sat to it again I realized how very tired most of the characters  were most of the time!" 
-------------------------------

From Joanna Bourne:

The hardest book for me is always the one I'm working on.  And the highest hurdle to overcome is myself.  I'm my own worst critic.  Nothing ever seems right and the further I get into the manuscript the more impossible it seems.

About the middle of writing a story, it's like being inside of some mad labyrinth with no way out and nothing makes sense.

What keeps me going is the characters.  I hate to let them down.  They really deserve to have their story told.

 

And back to me:

Like Nicola, I can stress over deadlines, so I try to write well ahead of any possible disasters and life interferences. So when I was scheduled for major surgery, I calmly finished the  draft before I went into the hospital and actually enjoyed starting a new book right after. I know, I’m warped. I lost my mother to cancer, but there was nothing sudden about it. I had no choice but to keep writing over all those years. And when she decided she didn’t want to live any longer and quit taking her medication, I was on a huge book tour with half a dozen people. The book had been drafted on schedule, but the last of that tour was a blur. That might have been the one book that wasn’t turned in until the last minute because it was impossible to focus on editing.

So my difficult books are caused mostly by me, and me alone. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, The English Heiress took me a dozen years to edit, revise, and patch together from corrupted disks and old files and yellowing pages because it sat around too long on an editor’s desk and romance had undergone a sea change before it came back to me. The original version was a fascinating mish-mash of Regency and old style historical and a comedy of errors, so I’m rather glad I had the opportunity to make it fresh with the wisdom I hope I’ve gained over the years.

How about you, do you act or react to the hardships in your life? How prepared are you for an interruption in your regularly scheduled routine?

A Quiz by any other name. . .

 Anne here. Tonight I'm going to a "trivia night." It's to help raise money to send a couple of local boys (ie from Australia) to a basketball tournament in the USA. Isn't it wonderful that kids can get opportunities like this?

I'm not sure when the word "trivia" came to mean bits of random information rather than small, unimportant matters — probably from the game Trivial Pursuits. Wikipedia suggests it arose as far back as 1965, but there's no citation but certainly in 1982 the game Trivial Pursuit hit the shops and swept the world and from then on trivia was all about little snippets of odd knowledge.

When I was a kid it was simply called "general knowledge" and at school and sometimes at home (particularly during long car journeys) we used to have general knowledge quizzes. Mum and Dad in the front seat of the car would fire off questions and we kids would scribble down our answers — no yelling them out, my parents weren't stupid. Points would be given and the winner... actually, I don't remember what the winner got. Being the baby of the family, I was never the winner, and by the time I was old enough to remember stuff, all the other kids had grown up and left home, and there was a competition of one. :(  

Do you know where the word "quiz" came from?

You've probably heard the story about how, in 1791, the owner of the Dublin Theatre Royal, (that's it on the right,) Richard Daly made a bet that he could introduce a new word into the English language within 48 hours. He had his staff write the word QUIZ on buildings and public places all around the city. The next day everyone was talking about this strange word, asking "What is it?" and "What does it mean?" and soon it had become part of the language.

It's a great story and I believe it's true; the trouble is, the word quiz was already in use in England. It meant an odd or eccentric person; someone whose appearance was peculiar or ridiculous.  Fanny Burney used it in her diary in 1782: "He's a droll quiz, and I rather like him."

The word 'quiz' meaning odd or peculiar in general became quite fashionable during the Regency; Jane Austen wrote in Northanger Abbey "Where did you get that quiz of a hat?"

It could also mean to tease, make fun or or mock a person; to satirize something or to talk wittily. From the OED (Oxford English Dictionary):1801 Edgeworth in Moral Tales: He spent his time in..ridiculing, or, in his own phrase, quizzing every sensible young man." This usage has pretty much died out.

By 1802 the monocle, a single eyeglass with or without a handle, was being called a quizzing glass, or occasionally a quizzer. Presumably one used it to peer at odd-looking people, or in the words of the OED, to regard with amusement or scorn; to appraise mockingly, to peer inquisitively at; to watch or examine closely, to interrogate with the eye.

By 1843 quizzed was being used as a word that simply meant to question or interrogate, with no particular reference to oddity or peculiarity.

And finally, the word was used to describe a process of question and answer to test the understanding or educational progress of a student or class of students by means of a quiz. From the OED: 1866   Harper's Mag. June 134/2   Professor I-I..quizzed them [sc. his class] thoroughly on the difference between fracture of the skull and concussion of the brain, and was pleased to see that all understood it.

How accurate are these dates?

The problem with claiming a word was or was not in use by a particular date is always a tricky one because etymological dictionaries, which give us the final word on such matters, must rely on documented — ie written sources. Yet it is reasonable to assume that a new word would be spoken before it appeared in some written or printed source.

I well remembered the debate I had with the editor of my first book when she objected to my use of the word "mesmerised", which according to the OED wasn't used until 1829 (R. Chenevix in London Med. & Physical Jrnl. 6 222,   I mesmerised the patient through the door.)

I argued that since Franz Mesmer, from whose name the word was coined, had died in 1815, and the height of his fame had come more than thirty years before, it was quite likely that the term might be in common spoken use well before it was ever written down. Further, that the OED relied on documents that had survived and were in the public domain, which meant the dates it gives of "first use" for a word are at most, a conservative guess, not an absolute fact. All it takes to change that date is an earlier written reference. If Fanny Burney's diaries hadn't survived, for instance, the word quiz wouldn't have been dated as 1782 but several years later.

I lost the argument, of course — one generally does with editors, and in restrospect it was a good call, because some people look up words to check and then write to tell authors they were wrong. From memory I used the word "entranced" instead. But I still maintain that words came into oral use first and only later did they make their way into written or printed documents.

However, enough of this um, trivia — I have a trivia night to go to. I expect to look something of a quiz, as I'm the MC and I'll be wearing my green foam Statue of Liberty hat, a souvenir from the 200th birthday of the lovely lady when I was first in New York. 

What about you? Do you enjoy trivia? Quizzes? Have you ever been to a trivia night or event? And if you like to do quizzes, here's a link to a regency quiz. Have a go and tell us how you went. 

 

Here We Go Again

Pat here, dropping in momentarily to introduce Honorary Word Wench, Eileen Dreyer, on her latest project--or is that projects?

   Eileen: I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Funny how often I say that about a writing project. I think I have a perfectly good idea for a book. One book. One story about a hero and heroine and maybe a nefarious plot against the British throne or a hospital CEO. I actually believe I have a beginning, middle and end. That last part is important. An end. As in, that’s all she wrote.
    And then, before you know it, I’ve created extra characters. A supporting cast, if you will, of people who will confound, confuse, contest and contrast my protagonists. Still going well. There are few books with only two characters. Well, few books I’d read, anyway. It's always much more fun to have our intrepid protagonists play off someone not like them.
    It all starts out so innocently.  I’ll say something on the character profile like, “best friend to hero” or “female spy in guise of abigail.” Again, perfectly innocuous. 
    But that's when I make the mistake. Because I actually allow those characters onto the page. And that’s where I run into trouble. You see, I can’t leave a secondary character alone. I can’t just paint them in enough strokes that they fulfill their function of, say, carrying out the heroes varied and secret orders, or protecting heroine from evildoers. Suddenly, rather than being a two-dimensional convenience, they’re a full-blooded character I want to know better. They might even begin to make demands of me. Demands like, God help me, a book of their own.
    That’s what happened in my Drake’s Rakes series. I knew that Jack Gracechurch was a spy. I knew he had brother spies, because I needed enough heroes for the trilogy I’d planned. That’s right. A trilogy. It was meant to be titled the Three Graces after the heroines. But then, when I wasn’t looking, three heroes morphed into ten. That’s ten. More than the number of innings in baseball. The number of months a woman is pregnant. The number of books that will now be in my series, retitled Drake’s Rakes, after my heroes(actually, there will only be nine books. One of my heroes, Chuffy, adamantly refuses a book of his own).
    I didn’t mean to do it. I only meant to show that the Rakes were a clever and committed bunch of heroic aristocrats. But once I wrote that first scene with them all slumped over the chairs in Jack’s flat at the Albany, I knew I couldn’t take them back. There was Ian Ferguson, a huge, mad Scot who admits that the only Englishman worth the powder to blow him to hell is Wellington. Chuffy Wilde, that pudgy boy-man who loses his spectacles and blurts out the most amazing statements. Alex Knight, who seems too honorable to be true, and Nate Adams, who seems just as dissolute. All with secrets, all with dreams and devils to plague them. Wounded, noble Kit Braxton and grieving Beau Drummond. And most mysterious of all, the leader of the group, Marcus Drake.
    Well, here's the problem. I'm one of those people who hates to read books til the series is finished. And this is nine books. Oh no, I thought, no one would ever read the first ones at all. And then it occurred to me. I did write the first three books as a trilogy, self-contained enough that you don't need to wait for the rest of the books to read it. And unofficially, I still called it the Three Graces.
    So I'm doing it with the whole series. I'm dividing the books up by heroines. And it's time for my second trilogy, which I'm unofficially titling The Last Chance Academy, which is the school my three heroines attended together, a place that should have been safe, but wasn't.
    To introduce the new series, I've written a short e-novellita entitled IT BEGINS WITH A KISS, which is a prequel that introduces the girls, and offers Fiona Ferguson(Ian's sister) the chance to meet Alex Knight. They'll meet again a few years later in their own book. Sarah Clarke will meet Ian, and Pippin Knight will continue her pursuit of Beau Drummond. All while working to prevent the Lions from taking over the throne.
    I love this new set of characters, too. I can't wait to introduce them. I just hope I don't discover too many secondary characters, or we could be at this forever.

A real duke

Tempting Fortune has just been reissued.You can read an excerpt here.

Yes, the cover is odd for a Georgian romance with a short, red-haired, quite plain and under-endowed heroine, but there you go! The British edition (see below) did a better job, but I think it's too dark in tone and mood. It's accurately portraying Portia on her way to be auctioned off in a brothel, but that is the darkest part of the book.

Covers. So complicated, but this book has had its full share. The original (see below) was created when the publisher was experimenting with new styles for covers and it's all-over foil. As a result it doesn't reproduce well, and even on the shelf the light  can blank the whole thing out.  I don't think they tried that again.

Tempting Fortune is the second book of the main Malloren series

It was first published in 1995. The hero is Lord Arcenbryght Malloren, the second son, who has an edgy relationship with his half-brother, the Marquess of Rothgar. He's a more fiery man and likes risk. Rothgar has turned him from gaming onto handling the family's business affairs and investments, but there's risk there, too, because in those days the shareholders of a company were liable for all losses.

That would curb some of the wild investments we see today, wouldn't it?

The book is about gambling, with money and with other things. It seems a suitable theme for the middle of the eighteenth century when a passion for games of chance gripped everyone, but it was combined with an exhilarated exploration of new ways and new ideas the Enlightenment. To the visionaries of this time nothing seemed impossible, and they had no doubt that the new would be wonderful. They had not learned as we have that progress inevitably brings costs. Or perhaps they simply did not care.

Who's the real duke, then?

Bryght's business partner, the Duke of Bridgewater.

My author's note from Tempting Fortune.

I'm reproducing here an edited version of the author's note from the back of the book. It was the first meaty one I did because I found myself trying to explain the Duke of Bridgwater's canals in the text. Definite information dumping. Not good.

The Duke of Bridgewater was just such a visionary.

It's hard to tell now what drove him, though the fact that he had grown up a sickly youth called the Poor Duke may have had something to do with it. (A string of short-lived predecessors had bankrupted the dukedom.) Perhaps he was destined by his title, for it is intriguing that Bridgewater should be the first person in England to attempt the construction of an aqueduct, a "water bridge."

Love had something to do with it, though, for it was after his betrothed wife jilted him that he devoted all his energies to construction.

Elizabeth, Duchess of Hamilton, was one of the famous Gunning sisters who had taken London by storm, much like modern pop stars. The king had to order them an escort of the Guards to keep back the adoring crowds when they walked the streets.  Maria, the elder sister married Lord Coventry. Elizabeth married the dissolute Duke of Hamilton and was soon left a rich widow. Bridgewater was just back from his Grand Tour, and still a young man, but he fell deeply in love, proposed, and was accepted. Elizabeth, however, changed her mind and chose instead a Colonel Campbell, who would one day be the Duke of Argyll. Thus, Elizabeth Gunning married two dukes and jilted a third, and what's more, was in time the mother of four.

Bridgewater turned his back on matrimony and became entranced with construction.

In the beginning, his plan was modest -- no more than to use the drainage channel from his mine to float coal a short distance. But then he saw the advantages of extending the waterway to Manchester. Manchester was a new city, growing rapidly as the spinning and weaving of cotton became an industry. Development there was being held back by the high price of fuel. The Poor Duke saw the opportunity to make a lot of money.

Even then, Bridgewater's plan was merely to link up with an established river-rout using the River Irwell. However, the existing Mersey and Irwell Navigation Company demanded an extortionate rate to use their system, and Bridgewater took the bold leap of planning a canal all the way, one which would leap the Irwell with an aqueduct.

Nearly everyone thought him mad. No one had constructed a canal in England since Roman times, and his engineers  -- Brindley and Gilbert -- were largely self-taught, but Bridgewater at only twenty-four proved determined. When he failed to raise money by other means, he sold or mortgaged just about everything he had and went around soliciting small loans from anyone with money to spare.

Money wasn't the only problem, though.

Canal construction required a number of acts of parliament, and those proved hard to get. As the duke complains in Tempting Fortune, bribery was a way of life in London. In addition, there were many honest doubters. In order to persuade the committee of Parliament to approve the act, Brindley had to build a working model of the aqueduct in front of them.

To add to the problems, the real one began to fail as the first water ran through it. It was a minor flaw, however, and the engineers fixed it, working without sophisticated plans, almost by string and sealing wax. Thereafter people made special trips to see this modern marvel, and to watch ships sail through the air. Beneath, the proprietors of the Mersey and Irwell Navigation Company gnashed their teeth and feared the future.

It was the beginning of a new age, the new age Bryght foresees. By the end of the 18th century, England was criss-crossed by canals, which meant cheap, safe transportation of raw materials and finished products. This led to rapid industrial expansion, and Britain was poised for the Victorian age, when it would be the richest and most powerful nation on earth. It can be argued that this was all due to a 24 year old duke, so please don't assume young men or aristocrats are useless. He was a brilliant entrepreneur, and not out of keeping with his age or class.

This all made Bridgewater a very rich man.

The profit from his coal mines rose from 406 pounds per annum at the time of this book, 1763, to 48,000 pounds at the time of his death, still unmarried, in 1810. In addition, he had the income from fees for the use of his canals, and from many other ventures such as the land on the new dockland of Liverpool mentioned in the book. I'm sure Bryght became just as rich in the process, but great wealth was never really his motivation. It was the fascination of new opportunities and the necessary risks that stirred him.

Bridgewater pops up in some other Malloren romances, usually as a desirable marital prospect. Can anyone remember when and where he appears?

What do you think of this real duke and his story? Share your thoughts and your name will go in the hat for a copy of the new edition of Tempting Fortune.

Cheers,

Jo



Guest Eileen Dreyer This Wednesday

On Wednesday, July 11, Pat will host an interview for returning Honorary Word Wench, Eileen Dreyer (aka Kathleen Korbel).  Eileen will be discussing her newest historical romance, It Begins With a Kiss.  Please join us Wednesday, and if you leave a comment you'll go in the drawing to win an Eileen Dreyer book!

Karen Harper Talks about Mistress of Mourning

by Mary Jo

I'm delighted to once again welcome Karen Harper as a Word Wenches guest.  Karen is a New York Times bestselling author of romantic suspense novels from Mira Books. She won the Mary Higgins Clark Award in 2006 for her novel Dark Angel ANGEL, and her novels make the "Heatseekers" bestsellers lists in the UK.  She is looking forward to attending ThrillerFest in NYC in July and the Historical Novel Society Conference in London in September.

As you can see, Karen is as versatile as she is widely honored!  Today, she is going to tell us about her romantic historical mystery, Mistress of Mourning.  Welcome, Karen!  I turn the virtual floor over to you:

Karen Harper: It’s great to be visiting Word Wenches again.  Although I am a Tudormaniac, I love to read the varied eras and settings of historical novels, and WW does a great job of spotlighting those books. 

Although I have written five other historical novels, Mistress of Mourning is my first historical mystery.  It was more challenging to write, but the main characters, the era and plot ran headlong into a murder mystery—three of them in fact, tragic royal murders, especially since two of the victims were young boys and the third murder was of a teenage Prince of Wales.  

Mistress of Mourning is set in England and Wales in 1501, a pivotal year in the early reign of the Tudors.  Henry VII and his queen, Elizabeth of York, daughter of a Plantagenet king, are trying to solidify their new monarchy.  The War of the Roses has ended in a might-not-right victory for Henry.  (Trivia for the day:  The term “War of the Roses” was not coined until 1762 in David Hume’s History of England, so I have steered clear of it in the novel.)  And, of course, this first Tudor ruler can bolster his family’s future by leaving male heirs to reign and daughters to marry off to royalty in other countries.

 But, ah, there’s the rub.  Henry and his queen have lost two children, and their heir, Arthur, Prince of Wales, is sickly at times, although he has just wed the Spanish princess Catherine of Aragon.  (Yes, later Henry VIII’s first wife, overthrown in his passion for Anne Boleyn, but Catherine is a young woman in this novel and very appealing.)  The only remaining male child (the Tudors have two daughters) is Henry, Duke of York, later Henry VIII.

Besides the losses of two of her own children, the queen is also haunted by the fact that her two young brothers were evidently murdered in the Tower of London years before.  Enter the chandler and carver of candles, Varina Westcott, a merchant-class widow who is allowed to run her own chandlery shop only because her husband died and left it to her.  (The powerful, male-only guilds of the day play a part too, but that’s for another day.)

At first Varina thinks she has been summoned to the palace to carve Her Majesty’s children’s faces on memorial candles, but Elizabeth of York wants full waxen images of her lost brothers and children to keep in secret.  Catastrophe befalls when the Tudor heir, Prince Arthur, dies in Wales under mysterious circumstances.  Because Varina’s shop also produces wax shrouds with which the noble dead used to be wrapped before burial and since chandlers of the day also acted as undertakers, the queen sends Varina to Wales to oversee the burial preparations—and to discovery whether Arthur was poisoned and by whom.

This is greatly a woman’s book as the two first-person leads are the queen and Varina, who bond over the sad fact that they have both lost sons.  But the novel also probes the passions and evils of men.  Can even King Henry VII be trusted?  Young Henry Tudor is only ten when the novel begins, but his wily personality is already in evidence. 

Varina’s love interest in the novel is Nicholas Sutton, an ambitious courtier above her rank, who is originally assigned to her as a guard.  Together, they navigate their relationships with the Tudors and go to wild Wales to discover whether Prince Arthur met with foul play. 

It was great fun to write about Wales of that day.  It was still a land of legends, superstitions, tribal chiefs and danger.  Bogs and fens, even witches presented a marvelous milieu.  The novel is somewhat Gothic in tone, but that’s what emerges when the Medieval Period begins to tiptoe into the English Renaissance.

But back to the historical crimes which are the backbone of the story.  Who murdered the Princes in the Tower is still argued today.  Many blame King Richard III, but there is another possible royal villain too.  (Yes, that’s a teaser.)  Later, in the Reign of King Charles II, in July of 1674, during some rebuilding in the White Tower, the bones of two children were found in an elm chest that was covered by rubble at a depth of about ten feet.  This was under a staircase that led to the king’s lodging.  At King Charles’s request, the bones were interred in a white marble urn designed by Sir Christopher Wren and placed in the Henry VII chapel at Westminster Abbey, close to the tomb of their sister. 

As for Arthur Tudor’s demise, that is yet being investigated.  Ground-probing radar has been used to pinpoint his final resting place beneath the limestone floor of Worcester Cathedral.  Professor John Hunter of Birmingham University has worked on the investigation, although so far the current queen has not given her permission for the exhumation of Arthur’s body to perform toxicology tests.  Of course, if Arthur had not died, Henry VIII would never have been king.  If the Princes in the Tower had not died, perhaps the Tudors would never have come to the throne at all.

In Mistress of Mourning,  I have suggested possible solutions for these three murders of royal princes.  But part of the joy of writing the novel was immersing myself in its era, that period which saw the stormy dawn of the Tudors. 

 The novel will also be released by my British publisher, Random House UK, at the same time as the Penguin USA release, but with a different title and cover.  Mistress of Mourning will be The Queen's Confidante in the United Kingdom.  Perhaps in this year of the current queen’s jubilee, the title "queen" carries real cachet. 

I'll be giving away two copies of MISTRESS OF MOURNING, so I hope the winners—and all you subjects of the realm—will enjoy the story and be surprised by the big reveal at the end. 

MJP: Karen, thanks so much for visiting!  The book sounds wonderful, and just from reading your blog, I've discovered things about candlemakers that I didn't know.  A feast for history lovers. Here's an excerpt.  And don't miss all the interesting info, including a clip of an interview with Karen, at her website.

The winners of the two copies of Mistress of Mourning will be chosen from among those who comment between now and midnight Saturday. So what do you think about the princes in the tower?  And did you learn as much about wax working as I did reading this?

Mary Jo, sure that Mistress of Mourning will be a cool read for a hot summer!

 

Stars and Stripes Forever!

Cara/Andrea here,

Today is a festive day here in the United States as all around the 50 states we celebrate the birthday of our nation with lots of traditional All-American parties. There are town picnics, featuring hamburgers, hot dogs, coleslaw, strawberry ice cream and blueberry pie, followed by a blaze of brilliant fireworks (I always enjoy watching the dazzling display over the National Mall in Washington, DC on television.) And of course there is much flag waving, with bright flashes of red, white and blue snapping in the summer breeze.

The sight of the Stars and Stripes sets many a heart aflutter. It’s a symbol of our country, and all the courage and sacrifices it’s taken to make it. In times of trouble, it’s a rallying point, reminding us of the elemental bonds that unite us despite our many differences.

Flags have long played a colorful role in history. (By the by, the study of flags is known as vexillology, from the Latin vexillum, which means flag or banner.)  One of the earliest flags on record—albeit a bronze one—was unearthed in Iran and dates back to the third century BC. It’s assumed that it was used in military action, and indeed, most early flag were used on the battlefield to help the combatants identify who was friend and who was foe. Both the ancient Greek historians Herodotus and Xenophon mention the Achaemenid battle standards carried by the Persian armies. And a distinctive Dragon standard was carried by the mounted Sarmatian warriors of the steppes.

By the High Middle Ages, heraldic flags and banners became popular as it wasn’t easy to see the crest emblazoned on an individual’s knight’s shield during the heat of combat. As principalities, city states and  cantons such as those of the Swiss confederacy arose, they too, began to design flags to herald their identity. Dukedoms, kingdoms, Empires . . . it became a matter of pride to have one’s own distinctive symbol of identity.

Some Random Flag Facts:

The flag of Denmark, known as the Dannebrog, dates back to the 13th century and is the oldest national flag still in use.

The flag of France was designed in 1794 and reflects the tricolor symbol of the French Revolution.

The flag of Nepal, the only national flag that is not a rectangular shape.

The first flag hoisted by general Washington over the Continental Army in January 1776  had thirteen red and white stripes and the Union Jack in the upper left hand corner. Now, we all know that later that year, Betsy Ross stitched up a new design with thirteen stars arranged in a circle to created a uniquely “American” look, free of British influence. In 1777, the Continental Congress confirmed the design as the official flag of the new nation passed the first Flag Act, which read “Resolved, That the flag of the United States be made of thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new Constellation.”

Since then, the act has been amended several times to allow for additional stars to be added as new states came into the union. Today, "Old Glory" has thirteen stripes—seven red and six white—which represent the original thirteen colonies. Fifty white stars symbolizing the fifty states are arranged on the dark blue field in the upper left hand corner. The colors have meaning as well—red stands for hardiness and valor, white symbolizes purity and innocence and blue represents vigilance and justice.

So, that about sews up my brief overview on flags. But before I hoist a final salute to the Stars and Stripes on America’s birthday, I’ll end with a word of thanks for all the gifts that our country has given us. There are many things for which I am profoundly grateful, but perhaps most of all, I am glad to live in a land that gives us the freedom to think and to use our imagination without having to conform to any rigid set of rules. That’s something wonderful to celebrate in my book—let the fireworks begin!

What is it about America that you are most grateful for? And if you’re not American, what quality about the U.S. do you admire most? And lastly, to end on a party note, what’s your favorite All-American Fourth of July picnic staple? Mine is chocolate chip cookies!

DARK DESTINY: The road home

by Mary Jo, aka M. J. Putney

This time, it’s personal!

Tomorrow, Dark Destiny, my third YA novel as M. J. Putney, will be released by St. Martin’s Griffin.  Twice I’ve sent my YA heroine, Lady Victoria Mansfield, and her friends from Regency England to World War II so they could use their magical abilities to aid their country, which is fighting for its life against Hitler’s forces. 

For book 3, my storyteller instincts said that it was time to turn the tables:  this time, it’s Tory’s world that is threatened by invasion. 

I’ve always been intrigued by the similarities between the Napoleonic wars and WWII.  In each case, Britain stood alone against an overwhelming continental conqueror, protected by the English Channel and the nation’s stubborn refusal to surrender. 

The Regency technically began in 1811, when the Prince Regent assumed power on behalf of his father, mad King George III, but I set the Dark Mirror series a few years earlier, in 1803 - 1804.  I chose that period precisely so I could do a Napoleonic invasion story. 

The French were seriously interested in a British invasion in the late 1790s, and they made some small scale attempts.  Those plans were put aside while Napoleon concentrated on Egypt and Austria

But after the end of the Peace of Amiens in May, 1803, Napoleon set his sights on Britain again.  The Army of the Ocean Coasts (also called the Army of England), was over 200,000 strong.  Troops were stationed and trained along the coast of the English Channel, with headquarters at Boulogne.  A vast flotilla of barges was constructed to carry troops across the Narrow Sea. 

There are two quotes I love that sum up the French and British attitudes, and which became the epigraph for Dark Destiny:

“Let us be masters of the Channel for six hours and we are masters of the world.”
 Napoleon Bonaparte while contemplating an invasion of Britain

“I do not say, my Lords, that the French will not come. I say only they will not come by sea.”
 Admiral Lord John Jervis, Earl of St Vincent, when he was Admiral of the Channel Fleet during the Napoleonic Wars

History records that the French barges worked badly, along with other problems and in 1805 the emperor decided against invading Britain and he turned his attention to the east.  But in an alternate history where magic exists—well, anything can happen!

A hugely useful piece of research toward this book came from a blog by Wench Nicola Cornick, who wrote a wonderful post called The Last Invasion of Britain. I’d never heard of this successful invasion of Wales.  It was tied in with French attempts to destabilize Ireland since the Irish were always willing to be stirred up against the English. 

I didn’t use the actual 1797 invasion of Fishguard because it was too early for Dark Destiny, but the incident provided inspiration and details for my fictional invasion of Carmarthen, on the Welsh coast.  (A town I’ve visited several times.)

But even if Merlin’s Irregulars, my students from Lackland Abbey, can help foil an invasion of Wales, what about the larger threaet?  Not only are there a couple of hundred thousand French soldiers slavering to cross the Channel, but in this time period, magic is acknowledged. 

For the first time, Tory and her friends will have to go against experienced French mages.  They send a cry for help to their friends in 1940 because maybe, just maybe, a girl they rescued from occupied France in Dark Passage might be able to help. 

Rebecca Weiss has only just discovered that magic exists and that she has power.  Now she’s being called on to pay her debt to Merlin’s Irregulars, who saved her and her family.  Can she do it?  She’ll certainly try, even at the risk of her life.  And her friend Nick Rainford will be right at her side to help her.  Handsome Nick, who would like to be more than a friend despite the unbreachable religious divide between them…

Here’s a brief excerpt from Dark Destiny: 

    “I will not have a black market operation run from my house,” Mrs.  Rainford said firmly.  She handed another plate of cake to Rebecca Weiss, who was staying with the Rainfords to study magic.  “But some sugar now and then would be nice.”
    “We can arrange that,” Allarde said as he clasped Tory’s hand under the table.  She could feel his amusement.  
    She bit her lip, thinking how much she would miss this freedom to be together when they returned to Lackland Abbey.  Male and female students were strictly separated in the abbey.  Only in the Labyrinth, the maze of tunnels below the abbey buildings, could they work together as they secretly studied magic.  And only there could she and Allarde have the privacy they craved.
    “What is a black market?” Tory asked as she cut more slices.
    “Illegally selling rationed goods, and Nick would dive right in if I let him.” Mrs. Rainford said with a laugh.  
    She laid her hand on Tory’s, but before she could continue, magic blazed from Mrs. Rainford through Tory to Allarde, kindling another blaze of magic from him.  Allarde’s hand clamped hard on Tory’s and he exclaimed, “No!” 
    “Justin?” Tory said dizzily, shaking as she channeled power and shock between Allarde and her hostess.  “What…what just happened?”
    His gaze was unfocused.  “I…I saw Napoleon invade England.  Barges landing, soldiers pouring off.   French soldiers marching past Westminster Abbey.”
The Irregulars gasped with horror.  The threat of invasion had been hanging over their heads for months as Napoleon Bonaparte assembled an army just across the English Channel from Lackland Abbey.  Jack asked, “What makes you say that?”
    Tory felt Allarde’s effort to collect himself.  “Mrs. Rainford and I both have foreteller talent, and Tory’s ability to enhance magic seems to have triggered a vision of the future when the three of us were touching.”  He glanced at their hostess.  “Did you see images of invasion?”
    “I…I saw Napoleon in Westminster Abbey,” Mrs. Rainford said unevenly. “But that was fear, not foretelling!  We know from history that Napoleon never invaded.”
    Allarde shook his head.  He was still gripping Tory’s hand with bruising force.  “I don’t know about your history books.  What I saw was an event that may well happen if we don’t act.  We need to return home immediately.  If and when the invasion takes place, Lackland will be a major landing site.”  He swallowed again.  “I saw French barges landing in Lackland harbor and soldiers pouring off.  The village was burning.”
    Jack Rainford rose from his chair.  “My family!”  
    “The French are not going to invade!” Mrs. Rainford repeated.  “I’ll get a history book and show you.”  She left the room, her steps quick.  
    Tory took a swallow of tea for her dry throat.  Mrs. Rainford was a schoolteacher and well educated, but Allarde’s magic was powerful.  “Foretelling is what might happen, not necessarily what will happen, isn’t it?”
    Allarde eased his grip, though he still held her hand.  “This felt very, very likely.”
    Mrs. Rainford returned with a textbook.  As she thumbed through the pages, she said, “There’s a chapter about how close Napoleon came to invading, but he didn’t.”  She found the chapter she was looking for and caught her breath, her face turning white.
    Tory peered at the book and saw that the letters on the page were twisting and flickering like live things.  The words couldn’t be read.  
    Mrs. Rainford said in a choked voice, “I remember what this chapter said, but…it doesn’t say that anymore.”

Of course there's more, as the characters grow, make choices, and learn to accept the consequences.  And maybe to face unexpected destiny. 

Here in Maryland, we were been hit by the ferocious storm system that crashed through the eastern states on Friday.  Luckily, I have power, but no broadband, so this is going to require some juggling to post for Monday morning! 

Assuming the blog goes up on time, Happy Canada Day to our Canadian readers!  And stop by on Friday for a delicious interview with Karen Harper as she tells us about her new book, Mistress of Mourning.

I’ll wrap up by saying I’ll give a copy of one of my M. J. Putney YAs to someone who comments between now and midnight Tuesday.  And if you were also hit by the storms—I hope you have your power back on!

Mary Jo