Word Wenches

What We're Reading

Hi, Jo here, hosting this month's What We're Reading blog. (I apologize if some of the covers aren't exactly where they should be. Typepad won't let me slide them around. Ah, technology!)

I don't have a lot to offer because I've been reading books for the Romance Writers of America RITA contest, (you can see last year's winners here if you want some reading suggestions -- including, of course, our own Joanna) and I can't talk about them. However, I have recently dipped into a Regency novel -- that is, from the Regency -- called Love and Horror. Isn't that a great title?

My heroine, browsing the shelves in a book shop, couldn't resist it as she has a particular horror of the more extreme sorts of love. It's a spoof of the Gothic novel, but a more outlandish one than Northanger Abbey. Completely over the top and lots of fun. The really neat thing is that as she took it from the shelves in 1817, I clicked on Amazon and poof! it was on my Kindle, and I could read along.

I also have a growing TBR pile, including some added from our WWR blogs.

So let's hear from the other Wenches.

(The titles are all links to Amazon, so if you want to buy that way, just click on them, but of course the books are available in many other places.) 

Mary Jo:
The What We’re Reading feature is already paying off,  since I read what Nicola is reading, and promptly ordered Kate Cross’s Heart of Brass, a terrific steampunk  historical romance.  What does a  clever countess and inventor do when her beloved husband has been missing and  presumed dead for seven years—and then he returns with no memory of their  marriage and he’s been programmed by the people who messed with his mind to kill  her?  Read this to find out.  <g>  Action, emotion, and lots  of cool little steampunk gadgets to liven things up.  

I also reread Forbidden Fruit, one of my favorite  Kerry Greenwood’s Corinna Chapman mysteries.  Set in Melbourne, they feature a full bodied and warm  hearted baker as Corinna makes bread and interacts with a large company of charming and eccentric friends and neighbors.  There are cats—also charming and  eccentric.  In this particular book,  it’s Christmas and screaming hot outside (because it’s Australia), and  she must help her gorgeous Israeli lover find a missing pregnant girl and the  boy who ran off with her.  Among other things lesser mysteries.  Delightful.

My Waiting to Be Read Pile is well stocked now, which  gives me a warm, secure feeling.  But seeing other Wench reads makes me  want to go back and reread some of them that are already favorites of  mine!

Anne.
1) Sophie Kinsella's I'VE GOT YOUR NUMBER. I like most of Sophie Kinsella's books — the shopaholic ones aren't my cup of tea -- but I  really enjoys' night party, her engagement ring goes missing and her cell phone is stolen, and when she finds another cell phone tossed  into the rubbish, she grabs it. The phone belongs to the PA of hunky businessman Sam Roxton — she tossed it when she resigned, and all his messages are now coming to Poppy, who can't help getting  involved. . . A fun read.

2) I bought this next book on the recommendation of a friend — Connie Willis's TO SAY NOTHING OF THE DOG. Its a time-travel, scavenger hunt comedy, with drama, romance, literary allusions and quirky characters all stirred into a wonderful pot. Connie Willis is best known for her sci-fi (I think) but this is a ont – a mad romp  through Victorian England, WW2 and the future. I laughed out loud, and have been pressing it on my friends.

3) In historical romance, I read and enjoyed Jennifer Ashley's THE SEDUCTION OF ELLIOT MCBRIDE, and it prompted me to go back and reread  her THE MADNESS OF LORD IAN MACKENZIE.

4) Finally I've read most of Elly Griffith's back list that I ordered  last month. She writes a crime series with Dr. Ruth Galloway, an  archaeologist who specializes in bones, and police detective Harry Nelson and I really enjoy them. Her latest book DYING FALL has just arrived and I'm trying to keep it to read on the plane that I'll be  taking to the Australian Romance Readers Convention in March.

Pat.

I just  finished an oldie: THE CURSE OF CHALION by Lois McMaster Bujold. Wonderful fantasy world-building and a tortured hero beyond any tortured hero I've ever read. He's dying through half the book because he's captured a demon inside him, but he gets his fair lady in the end.

And before that I finished Molly Harper's THE CARE AND FEEDING OF STRAY VAMPIRES. I don't normally like vampires but Harper's sense of humor works for me. And when we get to the part where the heroine may be dying and the vampire wants to save her by "turning her," she gives it some thought and decides she'd rather not, thank you. Love it. That may be a spoiler, sorry. It was funny.

Cara/Andrea:
As usual, I'm bouncing back and forth between fiction and non-fiction this month. I recently saw a fabulous exhibit on European drawing at the Morgan Library in NYC, which included a number of Renaissance works by Michelangelo, Raphael and Da Vinci. It inspired me to pick up "Michelangelo and the Pope's Ceiling" a very interesting and highly readable story about the artist's creation of the famous frescoed ceiling in the Sistine Chapel.

It's a wonderfully gossipy account of the the personalities of the times—Michelangelo, Pope Julius, Raphael, Da Vince among other—and paints a vivid picture of life in Rome and Florence (and with all its inside info on Vatican politics, it's highly timely, given the coming election of a new Pope!) There's also fascinating information on the technical aspects of painting—how pigments were made, the process of creating a fresco, the way the sketches were created for the final paintings. As someone with an art background, I just loved learning all that.

As for fiction, I've come late to the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series by Rick Riordan, but am thoroughly enjoying the first book in the series, "The Lightning Thief." Riordan gives a fun, funky spin to the ancient myths as his hero, Percy—a dyslexic 12-year-old who is half mortal, half god—must take a quest to prevent a war between Zeus and Poseidon from breaking out and destroying the world. It's a Harry Potter-style book, written for middle schoolers but definitely appealing to adults as well, with non-stop action, snappy dialogue and very clever recasting of all the ancient gods and monsters into modern day situations. It's not my usual cup of tea, but I'm really finding it quite tasty!

Susan:

Old and new are in my reading stack this month. Following my reading urges, I've come round to the urge to read mysteries again. After searching through my bookshelves for old favorites, I'm nowreading Dorothy Sayers' Whose Body? - the first of the Lord Peter Wimsey series. I haven't read a Lord Peter since my grad school days, so I'm enjoying the reunion very much. And enough time has passed that I've rather blithely forgotten who did what to whom, which makes it a sort of fresh read -- I haven't yet recalled who did in the body in the bath. Lovely Lord Peter, so full of sass and brilliance, and dear Bunter, so very pragmatic, and I love the vintage setting of a bygone era that still has a sense of modern familiarity. 

I just started reading Speaking From Among the Bones, Alan Bradley's fifth and newest Flavia de Luce mystery. When I got the book I practically squeeeeed with delight, being a huge Flavia fan. Haven't read far into it yet, so can't comment beyond I-already-love-this-book and I'm trying not to binge-read (did I say, huge Flavia fan, yes). So far in the story, we're in St. Tancred's church readying for a festival, Flavia has just wormed her way inside the church organ and out again, and we're on the verge of discovering a body. 

This series is entertaining, utterly charming and completely addictive, with one of the best sleuthing characters to come along in ages. Flavia, just 11, is a chemistry genius, mischievous, whimsical, inquisitive, brilliant, wise and yet naive. The setting is a small English village in 1950, and Flavia is a blend of Sherlock Holmes and Pippi Longstocking -- and yet uniquely Flavia. The characters are so multi-layered and the mysteries very, very clever. The old manor house, Buckshaw, is a fascinating central character too. This is not a YA series, despite the young detective. If you haven't yet read Flavia -- I highly recommend all five.

I'll be sad when the sixth and last in the series comes out next year - but squeeeeing with delight to have a fresh Flavia read once more - and I can only hope that Alan Bradley has a few more books planned. And if you like audiobooks -- this series, read by Jayne Entwhistle, is sheer entertainment (I'm not much for audiobooks, and I adore these readings).

Among the nonfiction in my reading stack, I'm moving quickly through Knight by Robert Jones. It's a big, lovely coffee-table format with excellent content, and a comprehensive, up-to-date overview of knighthood and chivalry, primarily in England. Buzzing through this and other newish comprehensives and monographs is a great way to keep my medieval chops sharp while I'm working on another book.

Joanna:

I'm always a bit behind in my reading, (several years behind if the size of my To Be Read stack is any indication,) so I won't feel guilty about reading a Christmas book in February. What I'm into now is Grace Burrowes' Lady Louisa's Christmas Knight  This is one of those, 'You will feel good when you read it' books. I'm deep in the middle and snow is falling outside. I am season appropriate.

And hey — here's a bit of synchronicity. Like Susan, I'm rereading Dorothy Sayers.  Strong Poison is my poison of choice this month. I love Sayers' strong, principled, intellectual heroine. I love the dialog. I just wallow and splash and delight in it. I will also admit I have a mad pash for Lord Peter, of which he is unaware, being, unfortunately, fictional.

The cover of this latest reprint is a 1930's couple on a bridge looking out over the water. It seems to have been chosen at random by someone unfamiliar with the content, since the heroine is in prison for the whole of the book.Ah well.

My non-fiction right now is the classic Maple Sugar Book by Helen and Scott Nearing. This is sorta 'Thoreau has lunch with the Twentieth Century and they talk philosophy'.

 Nicola:

I've just started TOUCH OF STEEL by Kate Cross, book 2 in her Clockwork  Agents series. I loved HEART OF BRASS, the first book. Normally I don't read Steampunk but this series has totally converted me. It's clever, inventive, fun and very sexy and romantic.

In non-fiction I'm reading Bygone Pleasures of London, an out-of-print book I found in an antiquarian bookshop at the weekend. I love poking through places like that because you never know what you might find. Bygone Pleasures gives an insight into the pleasure gardens of London from 1660 until the mid-nineteenth century and as well as the more well known spas and tea gardens there are places I've never heard of like The Yorkshire Stingo famous for being the place where they served a particularly strong Yorkshire ale!

A friend recommended The Lady of the Rivers by Philipa Gregory. I hadn't read her for a while but I am enjoying this one more than any of her previous books. The history is compelling, the descriptions rich and vivid and she even manages to pull off the trick of making me find a Lancastrian - Richard Woodville - a very attractive hero.

Which brings me on to the rest of my reading. All the excitement over the discovery of Richard III's body has led me to re-read all my Richard III related books, both fact  and fiction. This will take a while! I've just finished The Daughter of Time  by Josephine Tey (still magnificent) and am about to start on The King's Bed by Margaret Campbell Barnes. Next time we do a "What we're reading" I'll probably still be working my way down the list!

So there you have the Wenches' recent reads. Are any of these favorites?

And what have you read recently that you'd like to share?

Jo

Love at first. . . sniff?

No, we're not talking werewolf romance here. I've got a love at first sight scene that I've been toying with -- putting it in, taking it out... I love that moment in a romance where the hero and heroine's eyes first meet... and they might not know it's lerve... but we-the readers do. 

While I was dithering over my own scene, I was thinking about how I was recently interviewed on the radio, and one of the questions the interviewer asked me was whether I believed in love at first sight. 

I said I did. She was surprised but she laughed and said, "That's what I get for asking a romance writer. So has it happened to you?" I said no it hadn't, but it had happened to a few people I know, including my parents, an aunt and uncle, and a few others. "Really? "she said. "It doesn't just happen in books?"

So I told her about my aunt and uncle. My uncle Stan was in the army with my dad. They were posted overseas. One day Stan saw a photo of my dad's kid sister. "She's a bit of all right," he told Dad. "I might write to her."
'You'll do nothing of the sort," said big brother Dad. "She's not even sixteen yet." 

Unbeknownst to my dad, Stan wrote to my aunt the minute she turned sixteen. He introduced himself and sent her a photo of him. Unbeknownst to my (very strict) grandmother and my dad, my aunt wrote back. The secret correspondence flourished, and two years later, when the guys were back in Australia, and both were on leave at the same time, Stan decided he'd travel down with Dad and take in the sights of Melbourne. (Stan was from Sydney.)

Two weeks later my aunt and uncle were engaged and as soon as they could talk Nana and my dad around, they were married. It was a long, happy and loving marriage. My aunt said she knew for sure the moment she met him. I love that story.

I think that immediate "coupe de foudre" as the French refer to it, probably happens to a lot more of us, but then fizzles out pretty quickly. Love at first sight is something you might feel in those first few minutes of meeting someone, but only time proves you right. When you meet that person who instantly sets your bells and whistles ringing, it's the first step. It's what happens afterward that determines whether it's really love, or just instant attraction. Does the other person feel the same? Are they responding, too? All that talking, all that eyeballing, and maybe the touching you do in the first little while — it's all trying to work out whether this is it, or not.

According to Wikipedia, "Research has shown two bases for love at first sight. The first is that the attractiveness of a person can be very quickly determined, with the average time in one study being 0.13 seconds. The second is that the first few minutes of a relationship have shown to be predictive of the relationship's future success, more so than what two people have in common or whether they like each other."

Some anthropologists have suggested it's to do with primitive mating habits of our long distant ancestors — in short, dangerous lives, we had only a short time to seize up and choose a mate that would give us a healthy child. Helen Fisher, an anthropologist known for her research on attraction and love, believes three minutes is all you need to know whether someone will be in your life for a while.

For some, it's love at first sight, but according to some researchers, it's also love at first sniff. Apparently pheromones play a strong role, but it's also to do with who would make the best mate for you. For that reason we often find the smell of people who are genetically close to us, less than attractive — nature's way of discouraging in-breeding. A friend of mine told me that once her sons hit puberty, she couldn't stand their smell.

Wikipedia quoted an article in The Economist about a famous study found that women who sniffed (freshly) sweaty shirts and ranked them in terms of attractiveness tended to rank shirts that belonged to the most genetically different men the highest. Their sniff test was amazingly successful inpredicting who would make a good genetic match. 

So there you go, you don't need to bother dating a guy — you just need to get a whiff of his sweaty T-shirt. (fresh sweat, not stale, please.) 

So what about you? Do you believe in love at first sight, or first smell, or do you think people are kidding themselves? Has it ever happened to you? Ever done the sniff test? How did you first meet your partner?

Sunday Announcement

On Wednesday, February 27th at noon EST — Anne Gracie will be doing a live Spreecast video chat, with historical romance authors - Madeline Hunter, Jennifer Ashley/Allyson James, Julia London and Juliana Gray.

The chat will launch a special contest (which for legal reasons is open only to US readers only, sorry) — with a cash prize and bundles of books. Check out the details and sign up for the chat here. Click on the little blue RSVP button and you'll get a reminder.

Titles - It's different for girls

Nicola here! Today I’m dipping into the subject of titles once again. This is a hot topic in the UK at the moment because there is a bill before parliament to change the laws of succession to the throne. You would think in this day and age that a proposal to change the law to allow a first-born princess to take the throne with precedence over a younger brother would not be controversial. Not so. It has stirred up a great deal of debate, not least as to whether the same rules should apply to the aristocracy.

 Kings are different

The rules pertaining to the succession to the monarchy have always been different from those that apply
to aristocratic titles. At present succession to the British throne is by what is called male-preference cognatic primogeniture. This means that if the reigning monarch has a son, he will inherit regardless of whether he has elder sisters. If there is no male heir then the eldest daughter will succeed as in the case of the current Queen. This wasn’t always the case, of course. Originally in England and Scotland there were no fixed rules governing succession to the throne. Witness William the Conqueror willing the throne to his second son William Rufus whilst his eldest son Robert got the Duchy of Normandy. Robert didn’t like it, and invaded, but he was paid off. Then there was the anarchy when Henry I named his daughter Matilda as his successor but his nephew Stephen took the throne instead. Stephen and Matilda fought it out over a period of years and it was her son, not his, who inherited next. Richard II named his nephew Arthur as his heir rather than his younger brother John. Then there were all the primogeniture squabbles of the Wars of the Roses. A little known fact is that Henry VIII’s will proposed that his daughter Elizabeth should be succeeded by Lady Anne Stanley, descendent of his sister Mary, Duchess of Suffolk and Charles Brandon. That, of course, never happened.

Out of all this confusion came the Act of Settlement of 1701 which still governs succession to the throne, with various other pieces of legislation also in effect. The current amendment proposes that the first-born child of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge (Prince William and Princess Kate) should one day inherit the throne regardless of whether it is a girl or a boy.

The oldest of the old boys’ clubs

In contrast to the monarchy, inheritance in the aristocracy has in the main part been governed by male primogeniture. This means that in most cases the title – and the entire estate – descends in the male line only to the exclusion of women. So if the Duke of Dastardly has six daughters and no sons then his title will go to his eldest surviving brother and from there to the brother’s sons. If there are no close male relatives it will go to the fifth cousin twice removed rather than to the daughters.

Inspiration for Plots

We all understand this. It is the basis of any number of plots in historical fiction. The Downton Abbey story begins with the fact that the Earl of Grantham has three daughters and no son, his close male heir is drowned in the Titanic and the title is going to descend to Matthew, a distant relative and (shock, horror!) a member of the middle classes who works for a living. How different it would all have been if Lady Mary Crawley had been the heir!

Then there is Pride and Prejudice. The only reason that the odious Mr Collins is sniffing around Longbourn is because he is Mr Bennet’s heir. The five Bennet daughters cannot inherit the estate. So Mr Collins is looking to smooth matters over by marrying one of them. Implicit in this is the idea that as he is taking their inheritance, one of his responsibilities is to look after the disenfranchised females of the family.

The idea of male primogeniture is pretty heavily embedded in a lot of families, witness the number of aristocrats who keep on having children until there is a male heir. I loved the story of the Sackville-Wests. In 1954 Lionel Sackville-West and his wife Jacobine had their first daughter. Lionel’s great-aunt Vita, who had been barred from the succession because she was female, wrote to congratulate them. When a second daughter was born she wrote to say how lovely it was that the first had a playmate and hoped that they weren’t too disappointed she wasn’t a boy. By the birth of a fifth daughter, all she could find to say was “oh dear.”

Male primogeniture is a fruitful source of plot ideas for a historical romance writer. The idea of the spirited but penniless daughter in conflict with the new heir is a very powerful one and it’s one of my favourites. And of course any change to succession laws now would make no difference to what happened historically. (Though wouldn’t it be fun if all the heirs in the female line came forward to make a claim on their inheritance!) According to an account I read recently, opinion within the ranks of the aristocracy seems split on whether or not it would be a good thing to change the laws of inheritance. More than one duke has deemed it a good idea.  Some have suggested that daughters should be allowed to inherit only if there is no son. Others have rejected the idea outright, warning that it would lead to the break up of landed estates. Some, rather bravely in the current climate, have stuck to the traditional view that all men (and women) are not equal, that women are not as good at running estates and that “the first duty of a married woman is to have babies.” To which I can only say – well, it’s a point of view.

Girls can multitask

Arguably the case of the traditionalists is weakened by the fact that there are already titles and estates with provision to descend down the female line. There aren’t a huge number of them but they do exist. I came across one the other day when I was visiting Wrest Park in Bedfordshire. Wrest had been in the De Grey family for over 600 years. During that time there were a number of female heirs in the succession including Jemima Campbell, Marchioness Grey in the Georgian era, her daughter Amabel Yorke, Countess de Grey, her granddaughter Anne Florence De Grey and her granddaughter Nan Herbert, Baroness Lucas. The estate at Wrest passed from the family not because of female inheritance but because like many others it was simply too huge and expensive to maintain after the First World War.

In Forbidden I turned the male primogeniture plot around and had a title and estate that could pass in the female line. The heroine returns from the dead to dispossess the male heir. Perhaps it says something about me and the heroines I enjoy writing that I really loved putting a strong heroine into a situation where she was only doing what the men were habitually doing!

So what do you think? Do you enjoy stories where male primogeniture leads to daughters losing out on inheriting a title and estate? Does the inequality of it bother you in a historical context or does it lead to good conflict in a story? And do you think that in the real world, daughters should be allowed to inherit the dukedom?

Marriage stories

 Hi, Jo here, talking about marriage stories. Most romances are courtship stories, sometimes with marriage at the very end, but I love a marriage story, especially a marriage of convenience or a forced marriage. I'm not so keen on marriage in trouble stories, though I did one in The Shattered Rose.

I need a short hand here, and MOC -- marriage of convenience -- doesn't work, because some are very inconvenient for one or both parties! So I'll use VBL -- vows before love. That's the crux of it, isn't it? These two people will be in love (after all, it's a romance) but when they say their vows they aren't, and possibly are enemies.

The Shattered Rose is medieval, and medieval is a great time period for the arranged or forced marriage because it was more common back then. All four of my medieval romances are VBL, because even in The Shattered Rose Galeran and Jehanne made an arranged marriage when young. They'd come to love one another, but then trouble shatters that.

That's the original cover, which was absolutely gorgeous -- and which didn't sell well at all.

I think nearly every romance reader loves a VBL story. Am I wrong? If you don't like them, why not?

If you do, join me in listing the delights.

1. Rational conflict.

The perfect situation for a romance novel is one that forces the hero and heroine together even as something else drives them apart. In the real world, if we fear/distrust/dislike a person we avoid them as much as we can. This, however, does not a good romance make. With VBL they are locked together. In a historical VBL they have little chance of breaking the marriage, and the woman least chance of either.

Question? If we like VBL, do we like heroines in vulnerable situations? Is this healthy?

I like VBL a lot, and yes I do like heroines in vulnerable situations sometimes. The first book I wrote, An Arranged Marriage ('nuff said!) puts Eleanor in a very vulnerable situation, but also shows her strengths. To me, it's no different to a thriller that begins with a man trapped and vulnerable -- held hostage, wounded and captured, wrongly jailed et al. It's a launch pad for his heroism. What's more, assuming our hero isn't the sort to beat her or lock her in an asylum, he's stuck in a box with her, too, with few defences, and without some of the barriers he has against the wider world. She will learn his secrets.

That's the original cover, which I like a lot.

2. Rational sex.

We all know the tricky part of the modern historical romance is that sexy books are popular, but sexy acts without marriage weren't rational for ladies in the past. Even in the more recent past. It happened, of course it did, but before the pill it was risky behaviour, and the consequences shaped many women's lives, sometimes badly.

With VBL, there can be sex before love, too, but that doesn't mean it has to be bad sex. However it goes, it's allowed, and the woman won't be ruined by it -- though it might, of course, ruin some plan of hers. An interesting story possibility!

In Christmas Angel, we have a rationally arranged marriage between two sensible people, but they still manage to get all tangled about the sex!

3. Sex between strangers.

VBL doesn't mandate that they be strangers. The couple might have known each other all their lives. The story might have a betrothal period during which they get to know one another, even if that doesn't remove the conflict. That was the situation in An Unwilling Bride, my second Company of Rogues book. Beth and Lucien are both forced into the marriage, very much against their wills. They have their betrothal period, but manage to make things even worse!

But sometimes they are strangers at the altar. Alas, perhaps, I find it hard to push them into sex if the vulnerable heroine is reluctant. It can be erotic, but it can be unpleasant, and more importantly it can put the hero in a very bad light. Yet it's reasonable that a marriage must be consummated eventually, which can lead to an interesting dance!

So, what do you think of my 3 delights of the VBL? Do you agree?

Do you have others to suggest?

What are some of your favorite VBL stories?

Jo

Phoenix Falling: The Story Behind the Story

by Mary Jo

Today’s blog is another in my occasional series of showing how stories come together.  This time I’m dissecting the second in my contemporary romance series: the book what was once called The Spiral Path and I recently renamed Phoenix Falling in the relaunched Starting Over Series.

 

Setting the Scene:

My historical series are all built around men who became friends as schoolboys, so I decided to build my contemporary series around a group of female friends.  They met as girls at a real school, Baltimore’s Friends School, which is a Quaker institution, though students come from all backgrounds. 

Why Baltimore?  Because writing contemporary would represent so many challenges in other areas that I thought it would be nice not to spend much time researching the setting.  Hence, using my home town, Baltimore, which has texture and character and might seem exotic to people who've never been here. <G> 

The first and third books in the trilogy are set in Baltimore, but except for a few scenes, Phoenix Falling is set in California, New Mexico, and England. 

The Genesis:

One inspiration for the story was reading in the Baltimore Sun about Cass Elliot (real name: Ellen Naomi Cohen), one of the singers in the famous 60’s rock group, the Mamas and the Papas. 

Cass died at age 32, leaving a daughter by an unknown father.  The girl was sent back East to be raised by Cass’s family.  That gave me the idea for a heroine whose mother was a famous rock singer who died too young, leaving a child who was sent to Baltimore to live with her cold, disapproving grandparents. 

The Characters

Hence, Raine Marlowe, real name Rainbow. Rainey survived emotionally because of the friendships she formed at school and she stays in touch with Kate and Val and the others.  But she has talent and desire, so off she goes to Hollywood to become an actress.

The Story:

I'm not sure why I decided on a Hollywood/movie making set-up, but I liked the idea of writing about creative process, and what kind of people do the hard work of creating the magic.  The book begins with Rainey approaching her estranged husband, Kenzie Scott, to ask if he’ll star in the movie she wants to make from a Victorian novel that she loves.  The Centurion is about an officer in one of Queen Victoria’s “little wars,” and the terrible price that is paid for empire.  Though I invented the novel, the little wars were real enough, and so is the cost of empire. 

After separating from Kenzie, Rainey had thrown herself into writing a script and putting together a budget as a distraction from her pain.  But in order to get the financing, she needs a “bankable” star—and Kenzie is a superstar, as well as a contender for my most tortured hero ever.  Think Pierce Brosnan in his 30s—gorgeous, enigmatic, and very British.

The story is about a lot of things, and one of the central questions is how can two people build a lasting relationship in the middle of the craziness of celebrity.  Rainey is a successful Oscar nominated actress, while Kenzie is a tabloid darling whose every date becomes fodder for speculation. 

Rainey and Kenzie fall in love and impulsively marry after they finish making a new version of The Scarlet Pimpernel together.  The love and caring are real, but the pressures and separations crack their marriage. 

But because Rainey needs Kenzie and he can't say no to her, he agrees to do the movie without even reading the script.  Which turns out to be a terrible mistake, since the central conflict of The Centurion cuts dangerously close to the horrors of his childhood. Playing John Randall, the brave, tormented British officer, brings Kenzie closer and closer to the breaking point. 

The situation is worsened when the actress cast as the love interest quits before shooting begins, and Rainey must take on the role herself.  It turns out that the heroine, Sarah Masterson, has a loving loyalty which freaks Rainey out because of her personal commitment issues. 

If that isn't bad enough, just as shooting wraps up, a British paparazzo with an apparent grudge against Kenzie explodes a scandalous accusation that pushes Kenzie over the edge.

Rainey moves in to protect her husband, not knowing if the story is true or not, and not really caring.  She’s never stopped loving Kenzie, and she’ll do anything to save his sanity.  They retreat to the remote New Mexican ranch that he’d bought on impulse. There the layers of pain and secrets are revealed, and the healing begins. 

The Research:

I love this story, and the research was immense.  I read all kinds of memoirs like screenwriter William Goldman’s witty, informative Adventures in the Screen Trade and Emma Thompson’s The Sense and Sensibility Screenplay and Diaries, in which she recounts all the work that went into her Oscar winning screenplay for Jane Austen’s famous novel, and what it was like to play the lead in the movie after she’d written the script. 

Also, a friend of mine is the sister-in-law of a director who was shooting a movie in Baltimore, and she was able to get me onto the set for a day.  (Shooting a movie is a really, really boring process, I learned. <G>)

I interviewed my friend Laura Resnick who had studied at one of London’s famous schools of drama to get a sense of what Kenzie’s time at the famous Royal Academy of Dramatic Art would have been like.

I talked to a young woman who had been a Hollywood personal assistant, a class of people who are like magical elves, doing anything and everything necessary to make a star’s life run smoothly.

I had once read about a B&B carved into a cliff in New Mexico, and thought, “Wouldn’t that be a great place for Rainey and Kenzie to go for a few hours of peace and quiet!” 

I'd also read about a monastery far off the beaten path in northern New Mexico.  The Benedictine Monastery of Christ in the Desert was literally the very first site I visited back in the ‘90s when I got an internet capable computer.  I used the monastery for Tom Corsi, a secondary character in Stirring the Embers. He's living in the monastery as a novice and trying to decide whether or not to take final vows.  A warm and tolerant man, he’s there when Rainey needs to talk.

One of the most important elements was the labyrinth, which became the central metaphor for the book, and which provided the original title for the book, The Spiral Path. I’ve blogged about labyrinths in the past, and the symbolism is perfect for the complicated relationship between Rainey and Kenzie.  Plus, there is a real labyrinth that Kenzie makes as he comes to terms with his painful past.

The research was fascinating, but the heart of the story is two complicated people trying to rebuild the loving marriage that they both desperately need.  Is there a happy ending?  Of course!  My stories are always about healing and reconciliation, and never more than in Phoenix Falling.

What’s behind the new title?  I think of Kenzie as like a phoenix who'd built a soaring and successful life from the ashes of a catastrophic childhood.  When his life is shattered again, will he have the strength to rebuild? 

With Rainey’s love and understanding, yes. Here’s an excerpt of Rainey’s first meeting with Kenzie.

I’ll be giving a copy of the original print edition of The Spiral Path to one person who leaves a comment between now and midnight Tuesday.  Or if you’re impatient, you can download the e-book of Phoenix Falling from any of the major online bookstores.  If you do read the story, I hope you love Kenzie and Rainey as much as I do.

Mary Jo

Wenches Rock!

by Mary Jo

Often our monthly Ask A Wench post is a reader question that all the Wenches answer in our different ways.  But today’s compilation is rooted in Christmas pictures.  Anne sent us a photo of some of her holiday decorations, another wench noticed the beautiful gemstone bonsai tree and other polished stones—and we were off the races! Or perhaps the quarries. <G> 

It turns out that all of the Wenches love stones and minerals, and we love taking about them.  We could have easily generated a multi-part series on Stones We Love, but I restrained myself. We'll start our rock stories with Anne and her bonsai tree:

Anne Gracie: 
I love stones, too, and compulsively bring them home from my travels because they're pretty or I like their shape or they evoke a place I loved in my memory. I have round white stones from a beach in Brittany, rugged mountain-shaped rocks from Montana, smooth wave-washed pieces of colored tiles from the south of France, shards of slate from a sliding mountain of slate in North Wales — and much more.

I've had Aussie customs officers heave up my backpack to check it and say, "Gawd, this is heavy.  You got rocks in here or something?"  
    And I say, "Yes, and books."

I also have a couple of friends who are fossickers —— they dig for gold and gemstones as a hobby, albeit a fairly serious one. They go bush (to remote locations) several times a year and camp and fossick and dig.  They also dig for opals and I've bought a few beautiful stones from them. I also have these stones (in the picture) that they were going to toss into the garden. They're not valuable, but they're beautiful stones with tiny gleams and glitters of blue, aqua and red opal in them (more visible in the sun than in this photo) and I love them, not just because they're beautiful, but because my friends found  them and polished them and gave them to me.

Susan King:
Stones, gemstones and rocks can bring very good energy -- light and color and beauty -- to the home and for writers. I've collected some lovely rocks and stones over the years that I've stashed around the house and in my office, where they catch the light and help to inspire (and distract!) me while I'm working. I find them very soothing and fascinating.

And because most of them were gifts from friends, they have additional meaning and personal connections. My son's girlfriend is an amateur gemologist and rock collector, and I've learned a lot from watching her identify, categorize and rank the stones she collects; she also displays them at gem shows. Several of her discoveries in the wilds of Virginia and Maryland have found their way onto our bookshelves and into our garden, and into my office, where I like to think they're happy clustered on windowsills or on the desk. 

Among the stones in my office are several amethyst geodes of various sizes, including one that's a gorgeous purple cavern big enough for a fairy or a dragon figure (and they've been in there, believe me!); a beautiful polished phantom crystal with curls and whorls and tiny scenarios within the stone; and a big fist-sized chunk of raw lapis lazuli that a friend brought from Brazil. Lapis has very good energy for writers, so I keep it near my computer. That saturated blue is chalky in its raw form, veined with other stone material, and just gorgeous. Medieval artists coveted lapis lazuli, and carefully chipped and ground the stones into a powder to mix with egg (and later oil) to create the heavenly blue that was considered rare and costly in the medieval era.

I also have a crystal point a friend brought from Madagascar -- a split terminus quartz crystal about ten inches long, heavy, full of depth and beautiful cloud like veining. You can just feel the powerful energy in it. I clear my crystals now and then with running water and sunlight, as crystals can pick up dust and get a bit dull -- and they can absorb energies around them just like little radio transmitters; it's good to keep those energies clear so the stones won't refract the stale energies right back at ya. So they say! 

Joanna Bourne:
I've travelled around a good bit, so the rocks I keep are small rocks.  Me, being practical, you know. 

Every one of my rocks has a story.  Some are presents -- that carved bird perched on top of the pile so protectively is a present from a friend who carves rock.  Some of my rocks I've found.  The jasper -- that's the irregular big brown-red chunk on the right -- is from the Southwest of the United States.  The carnelian, a bit above it, is the same color, but translucent.  That's from Iran.  It rated a special professional polishing. 

To the right, the dirty-looking, complicated quartz crystal is what they call a 'desert diamond'.  You find those out in the middle of the sands.  This one is from the Nejd in Saudi Arabia.  You'll be all shook up from driving in the dark, off-road.  There's, oh, just desolation all around and some scrub brush and big stone cliffs a mile or two off, still black.  It's dawn behind you because you're looking west.  The sun comes up.  You see a glint way off.  That's your crystal.  You go racing off to get there before it's lost again. 

And there's that egg-shaped sort of pink rock in the center.  That's from the north part of the coast of Maine, from the beach.  There's a layer of granite that underlies the coast that's about pure pink.  They made buildings of this 'Red Beach granite' or 'Pembroke granite' up and down the Northeast a hundred years ago. 

The egg shaping comes from the washing of the sea.  I picked it up when I was twelve or so and thought of the years it took and the accidents of time that made a neat hen's egg out of some boulder.  So cool, thought I.  And I still do.

I keep my rocks in a basket where the first sunlight hits them. 
They just light up.

Nicola Cornick:
We collect stones on our Scottish holidays, usually round ones that have been washed down by the burn that runs past our holiday cottage. They sit in our garden at home so that we have a ittle bit of Scotland with us all the time. They make great paperweights if we actually get the chance to sit reading in the garden!

My most prized poseession, though, is a piece of chalk that was cut to restore Ashdown House. They opened up the original 17th century quarry to do this and my husband begged a piece from the restoration guys and had it engraved for me. Most people don't get it and wonder why I have a chunk of rock on my desk!

I also have some sarsen stones (mine are a bit smaller than the ones in the photo!) which are the local sandstone rocks washed into extraordinary shapes during the Ice Age. There are may legends around them. They are the stones that made Stonehenge and Avebury stone circle. The holes in them were made by the roots of palm trees

Cara/Andrea:
ROCKS!!! I love rocks! My friends give me such a bad time about my passion for rocks. I'm always finding pretty rocks in my driveway gravel, in the pasture, on day trips to various places like Mount St. Helen's (I have a lava rock from there), and many other rocks, geodes, ammonites, agates, crystals and petrified wood collected over the years. Below are some of my water washed stones from Prince Edward Island.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our webmistress Sherrie Holmes has some amazing stones, too.

Sherrie Holmes:
A former co-worker's mother was an artist who hiked the rugged Hell's Canyon trails along the Snake River that borders Oregon and Idaho. When she found out that the Hell's Canyon dam would flood a section of the canyon rich in historic pictographs, she made it her mission to preserve as many of them as she could for posterity. She did it in a unique way: first photographing them, then painting their exact replicas on rocks from the area. She donated her painted rocks to a local museum, which sold them to tourists. Her generosity helped keep that small museum afloat.

When my co-worker showed me samples of her mother's rocks, I begged her to sell them to me. Despite the fact the museum was the only outlet for those rocks, her mother made an exception and allowed me to buy several pieces, after which she turned the money over to the museum.

This one us irregularly shaped, and each of the four sides has a different pictograph from Hell's Canyon.

Here's another stone of a deer hunter:  

 

 

Mary Jo again: I have my share of amethyst geodes and pale blue fluorites and pretty pebbles and minerals (of which I don't always remember the names!)  The only one I'll show here is actually a piece made by my sister, Estill Putney, who is a professional stone carver.  It was created as a memorial for the Virginia Tech shooting, which took place in her home town.  The orange flower is made from a rare shade of natural alabaster.  The carving presides over my dining room.

 

Do you also love stones and collect pretty ones from your travels?  Do they all have stories?  I’d love to hear more!

 

Mary Jo, adding more of Anne's opal boulders 

In the Cards . . .

Cara/Andrea here, I’ve been a bit hammered by Nature in the last few months—Hurricane Sandy wreaked havoc with trees and power, and a wicked Nor’easter did the same just ten days ago. So when I heard a monster snowstorm was headed my way last weekend, I was willing to try anything to placate the Weather Gods. Sacrificial cookies left in the vulnerable rooms, burning candles, ancient Druid chants, ringing of Feng Sui bells—it got me to thinking how throughout history, people have turned to all manner of rituals when faced with a frightening threat.

Which led me to another thought. As I sat fretting about power outages, danger form falling pines, and how I would deal with no heat in the dead of winter. I also started musing on how nice it would be to, well, know what was going to happen. What was my fortune going to be? That seems another elemental human urge, and of course all sorts of ways to divine the future have arisen over the centuries, from the Delphic Oracle to . . . Weather Tracking Satellites!

But being a person who loves paper, words and images, I found myself thinking about cartomancy in particular—the art of fortunetelling with playing cards. And so I decided to do a little basic research into the subject. And it turns out that I didn’t have to look far from home—the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Yale houses the Cary Collection, one of the world’s foremost collections in the worldof ancient and modern playing cards.



According to the introduction on their website, the first written record of cards being used to predict the future in the Western world appeared in the beginning of the 16th century with the 1505 Mainz Kartenlosbuch, a handbook designed to be used in conjunction with a deck of cards. However, the origins of cartomancy, though a bit uncertain, appear to date back to the 14th century, when tarot cards from the East began appearing in Europe. (The Cary Collection possesses one of the few existing examples of the Visconti tarot, a magnificent handpainted and gilded set from Italy, created around 1445.(see above)

I was fascinated to learn that cards specifically designed for fortune-telling first appeared in England during the late 17th century. The Beinecke site showcases an early design from John Lenthall (c.1717-see left) and explains the following facts: “The Fortune-telling Cards use the standard French suit system in a pack of fifty-two cards. The aces and court cards bear zodiacal signs and images of historical and mythical figures such as Ptolemy and Merlin; the actual fortunes are listed on the pip cards.”

Another source says that fortunetelling with playing cards became very popular in late Georgian/Regency times, especially in France, where the mystical revelations of Court de Gebelin and a self-proclaimed prophet named Etteilla entranced the public. (War, economic troubles and social upheaval—times of uncertainty seem to stimulate an interest in the occult.) One of the best known fortunetellers of the time was Mademoiselle Le Normand, who counted Napoleon among her clients. (whose interest in the mystical is well-documented) Known as the "Sibylle des Salons," the lady also became a close confidante of Empress Josephine.

The allure of cartomancy grew stronger through the 19th century—the Victorians were known for their fascination in the occult. And modern day interest in the tarot remains high in certain circles. But rather that try to detail any more of the long and wonderfully complex history of playing cards and their use in divination, I’d rather end with showing some of the intriguing visuals from the Georgian/Regency era that I discovered on the Beinecke Library website.

French, c. 1780


French, c. 1814



Left: English, c. 1717; Right: English 1806

And finally one of my favorites, an American card from c. 1840, which show that cartomancy, along with the quinessentially dry British wit, had crossed the Pond:

So what about you? Have you ever had your fortune told through playing cards? Ever played around with the tarot deck? And if you could, would you choose to know what was going to happen in the future? I’ve decided I’d rather not—for me the unknown is part of the excitement of life.

Trouble With Air and Magic

Pat here.

I like to keep an open mind on anything that hasn’t been scientifically proven as wrong or impossible. So, yes, as far as I’m concerned, there may be ghosts and space aliens and psychics and maybe feng shui really does work.

I realize I cannot provide positive, scientific proof that any of the above isn’t superstitious hokum, but can anyone really prove otherwise? I first became interested in feng shui when we moved to a new house that I didn’t really like. It was dark and boxy and made me uncomfortable, but it was close to my husband’s job and we could afford it, which wasn’t easily done in that neighborhood. So I set about improving it by opening up rooms and adding desperately needed new plumbing. We were only a third of the way through the process when my husband lost his job. For the first time in our adult lives, my husband was not working. This was freakish enough to have me consulting astrologers if they had answers, but they didn’t.

My First Audio Book

Anne here, and I'm excited to announce that The Autumn Bride has been made into an audio book. That's a first for me, and I'm really thrilled about it.

I love audio books now, but for a long time they didn't appeal to me at all. When I was a child I used to love being read to, but that stopped not long after I learned to read. It wasn't that people stopped wanting to read me a bedtime story — it was me, being greedy and impatient. I could read much faster than they could speak, so I fired my parents and older siblings from bed-time duty and read the books myself.

And apart from the occasional radio serial I did all my own reading for the next umpteen years. I have friends who take it in turns reading books to each other. They love it. Not me.

It was a really evil paint job that converted me to audio books. I have an old house and at the time I couldn't afford to renovate it, so I was sprucing it up myself. I'd used a steam machine to remove a glowing metallic feature wall from the lounge room and four walls of frolicking donkeys from the study. Now it was time to attack the moldering vestibule/entry hall. Small space, small job, I thought.

Hah! Turned out there were 3 or 4 layers of wallpaper, and each one had been painted over at some stage and then papered again. I don't know what they'd put on those walls over the years, but it was made to stay. I tried everything the guys at the paint shops could suggest. The only way I could shift it was to peel and scrap it one shred at a time. So first thing Saturday morning, I started.

The time c-r-a-w-l-e-d. By 10.30 am I felt like such a martyr. Hours of scraping and hardly anything to show for it. Worse, it was the last long weekend before winter, everyone else had gone away to the beach or the mountains or the bush and the weather was absolutely gorgeous. And there was I stuck indoors in the vestibule from hell: scrape, scrape, shred, shred, martyr, martyr. 

Then I recalled that I'd borrowed an audio book of a favorite author from the library, only because it was the one book of his that I hadn't been able to get. I pulled it out and started listening. . . Hours later the book was finished, and somehow, almost without me noticing, a heap of wall had been scraped clean. The time had flown; I'd been miles away in the world of a book. So I whizzed off to the library and borrowed a pile of audio books. By the end of the weekend, the vestibule was clear of shreds, washed, sanded and ready for a coat of sealer — and though my arms were aching, I felt like I'd spent the weekend reading. Magic.

Now I'm still impatient for the story and my preference is still to curl up with a book and devour it in one sitting but when I'm doing a mundane chore or driving long distances, I love being read to.

So now one of my books had gone into an audio edition, and though I would have been happy with any of my books being chosen, I am so pleased that it's The Autumn Bride, because it fits with the story.

There's quite a bit about books and reading them aloud in this book, and it starts when Lady Beatrice, bedridden but still feisty discovers a new pleasure — books read to her by the heroine and her sisters. And when an old friend visits, and Lady Beatrice asks her to wait until the chapter is finished, her old friend is stunned.

“You’re reading books now, Bea? Good heavens! Well, of course I don’t mind, if that’s what you want.” But though she allowed herself to be seated in a comfortable chair by the fire, it was clear she thought the request a peculiar one.

However as Abby read on, Lady Beddington edged forward in her chair, twisting her shawl into a rope, listening eagerly, until by the end of the chapter she was perched right on the edge of her chair, hanging on every word.

When Abby finished the chapter Lady Beddington fell back in her chair, exclaiming, “Bless my soul, I never knew a book could be so entertaining.”

“I know,” Lady Beatrice said. “Before these gels came to live with me, I can’t remember when I last read a book. All the books I’d ever been made to read were dreary, improving things, full of morals and lessons and homilies or facts—and that’s when I could understand the dratted things. But Abby and the gels always find the most thrilling tales, and the only thing that’s improved when we’re finished is my mood.”

The audio edition of The Autumn Bride goes on sale on 18th Feb. I haven't heard it yet, and I suspect it will be a bit weird hearing my own words read back to me, but I can't wait. 

So what about you? Do you enjoy having someone else read to you? Do you listen to audio books or not, and if you do, what do you enjoy about them?

And where is your favorite place to read or be read to? (The painting on the right and the one above of the girl in the hammock are by E. Phillips Fox, one of my favorite Australian painters, who painted in the late 19th/early20th century.)

I'll give a copy of the Autumn Bride (paperback version) to someone who leaves a comment

The Return of the Dandy

Nicola here. According to the newspapers there is a new breed of man about town (whether that town is somewhere in Europe, the USA or Australasia.) He is the dandy, discerning and well informed on fashionable style trends, historical influences and the art of dressing. These men are devoted to matters sartorial and they spend a lot of money on their clothes, several thousand pounds or dollars per month. Selfridges in London has recently opened the world’s largest men’s shoe department. Harvey Nichols, the designer department store, say that their male customers spend 25% more on clothes than their female ones. Style icons like David Beckham have made it acceptable for men to express themselves through their style and their grooming. For these men, dress is a form of self-expression, often as flamboyant as possible. And of course this is nothing new.

Origins and definitions

My OED has the word “dandy” first coming into use in the 1780s to describe a man who paid meticulous attention to his dress. It was based on the earlier phrase “Jack ‘O Dandy.” Dandyism as a style was coined in about 1820. Previously there had been fops, a term which originated in the 15^th century and implied someone who was a bit of a fool as well as being overdressed. The word “beau” also came to be used to describe a rich, fashionable young man who was elegant in his dress. Then there were the macaronis who took style to extremes and were considered to exceed what was elegant and fashionable and tumble over into the outlandish.

These days the term dandy has a certain effeminate connotation but in the late 18^th and 19^th centuries it had a far more masculine meaning. The dandy was not simply someone who was interested in clothes. Dandyism was a lifestyle. It included refinement in manners, a certain nonchalance and possibly an interest in gentlemanly pursuits such as prize fighting. The dandy was urbane and elegant but he was also very masculine. One of the dandies of the late 18th century was William Hopper, a man who rejected a career in the church to become a gentleman pugilist. He was known as “The Swell Bristolian,” swell of course being Regency cant for someone who was wealthy and elegant. Captain Barclay, another dandy, was one of the most celebrated athletes of his generation.

The King of the Dandies

The quintessential dandy, of course, was Beau Brummell. He became a leader of society. Brummell attended Eton, where he first drew attention to himself by going against the wisdom of the day in declaring cricket “foolish.” This view was sufficiently odd and original to establish him as a wit and he was invited to all the best parties. Brummell was also an arbiter of taste and fashion in books and furnishings as well as clothes. He was a collector of china, snuffboxes and canes. His exquisite manners were part of his appeal and when it came to clothes he designed them himself and made sure they were well cut. Two of his maxims were “no one should ever take your suit for new” and “always clean linen and plenty of it.”

Dandyism as practised by Brummell and his fellows was as much to do with manner as dress. One of the observations made of Brummell was that he matched the understated elegance of his clothes with the cool understatement of his speech. He never showed emotion.

Despite the masculine connotations of dandyism, not everyone admired it. One observer described the dandies in St James in less than flattering terms: “Well-groomed but pompous, parading daily between Crockford’s (gambling palace) and White’s Club, up one side and down the other.” This promenade often took place in order to establish one’s status as a gentleman and persuade tradesmen to grant credit.

There were also many caricatures of the dandy as a ridiculous character in the contemporary cartoons. A satirical booklet of the era mocked the many and varied ways in which one could tie a neck cloth whilst “An Exquisite’s Diary” made fun of the trials and tribulations of being a Dandy. Captain Gronow was vitriolic about them, criticising them as “unspeakably odious… with nothing remarkable about them but their insolence… They hated everybody and abused everybody…”

Literary Dandies

One of the most famous literary dandies is of course The Scarlet Pimpernel. No one could be cooler under pressure, busy adjusting the set of his coat at the same time as fighting off an attack by twenty Frenchmen. The Scarlet Pimpernel is the ultimate swashbuckling hero and his dandyism is an integral part of his disguise but at the same time he genuinely does care about his appearance. And of course his wit and sangfroid is legendary. There are also a number of dandies in Georgette Heyer’s books too; interestingly some are the true dandies such as The Earl of Worth in Regency Buck who is a member of Beau Brummell’s set. Others take their fashions to extremes and are figures of fun.

At the end of the Victorian era dandyism experienced a resurgence in popularity with adherents such as Oscar Wilde. The current trend seems to be mainly focussed on clothing; it would be good to see other aspects of dandyism such as wit and especially beautiful manners making a comeback too!

Do you have a favourite historical or a fictional dandy? Or is there a current day style icon you think is a dandy?

Titles

Jo here, waffling on a bit about peerage titles. I'm sure I've done this before here, but a few things came together to inspire another go. Why is it that even people who should know better make silly errors in British titles?

Once a duke, always a duke.

I picked up a Regency and put it down again sharpish when in the first pages a duke was also called (Inventing here) Lord Pickingham. I think the author was aware that this was odd and trying to explain it by the duke also having the title of Lord Pickingham in his collection, but that's not how it works. It's quite possible that a ducal family could have aquired along the way four baronetcies, three viscountcies, two earldoms and a partridge in a pear tree, but none of them will be used except as titles for his heirs -- or in the case of patridge and pear, for dinner. 

For more on that and other details about titles check out my easy guide to titles page. The image is a duke's coronet, worn with his scarlet and ermine robes.Up left we have Billy wearing a very inauthentic crown!

The Smithsonian should know better.

Then I clicked on a link to an on-line article from the Smithsonian where the writer said that Chatsworth House in Derbyshire was owned by the Duke and Duchess of Cavendish. This is a straight error, but a sloppy one arising from not understanding in the bones that a noble family's surname is rarely their title, and never at the ducal level. The family name is Cavendish. The title is Duke of Devonshire.

Hold on, you might be thinking, being sharp of eye and keen of wit. Didn't I say Chatsworth was in Derbyshire? I did. It is. The story I heard was that when a Cavendish was being raised to Earl of Devonshire in the early 17th century the king made a mistake. It should have been Earl of Derbyshire, but once the king had declared him Earl of Devonshire, no one dared correct it.

This is why the Earl of Devon -- who lives just down the road in a manner of speaking, at Powderham Castle -- is not the Earl of Devonshire.

So should the New York Times.

Yesterday there was a post on the Regency yahoo list about an article in the NYT called Splitsville For Lady Crawley. As someone pointed out, Lady Crawley doesn't exist. The article is satirical, but that loses bite when the headline is wrong. Splitsville for Lady Grantham would have worked just as well.

So should Downton Abbey?

Someone else pointed out that "Lady Violet Crawley" was impossible. True enough, but I don't remember the dowager ever being referred to as Lady Violet, so Lord Fellowes is exonerated, by me, at least.

I think she is referred to as Cousin Violet sometimes, but "cousin" is a convenient but vague term. In my upcoming book, Seduction In Silk, we have the hero, Perry Perriam, and a distant relative, Giles Perriam. The term "Cousin Giles" covers it without implying a close blood tie.

No one in Downton Abbey is Lady Crawley, because Crawley is the surname not the title. The daughters are Lady Firstname Crawley -- the correct use of the surname. They are not, ever, Lady Crawley, not even the imperious elder one, Mary.

Let me try another way of looking at this. The title is not the name.

If Pat Macguire is the Mayor of Ballybridge would anyone call him Pat Ballybridge, or Mr. Ballybridge? Well, perhaps the latter if he was seen that way, but not formally. Nor would he be Mayor of Macguire.

Have any howlers to share?

So there are a few a just stumbled over in the past week. Have you come across any recently? Some authors really don't think it matters, and many readers don't care, but Getting Things Wrong Through Sheer Laziness should not be encouraged!

I'm clearly feeling my inner Violet.

Jo