Those of you who know me, know something of my writing process. For example, I still compose in a wide ruled spiral notebook. I choose wide ruled because I can write such words as “timeline” in the margin without breaking my concentration on the flow of the story while still noting markers of which I must be aware. Today, I will first read what I wrote yesterday and correct spelling, add words, etc., then I move on. Yes, I very much write every day.

When the story is complete, I type my first draft, which serves as another round of edits, though I admit I sometimes type “the the” in this draft. While I type this version, I also keep a separate document, a running “History of …” document that has a list of characters (good to take note that I have not included the same name more than once, especially for minor characters, as well as to change up the names so I have not included five characters whose names all beginning with “s.” Do you not despise reading a story and you cannot keep the characters straight in your head?), a timeline to make certain events in the story line up (in the Regency era, Sundays still happen, and things like travel, parties, etc., did not), place names (especially made-up names for houses and estates), a bulleted chapter by chapter main events so I can go back and find a particular detail without reading the whole story, and a list of possible post topics, such as this one.

I am a pantser, meaning I write by the seat of my pants. I abhor outlines, perhaps because I taught English for 40 years and was required to drag my students, kicking and screaming, through the process. Before I put pen to paper, I know ahead of time the key points of the story. How I will move my characters from point A to point B is generally not in my head.

While writing, I particularly love those moments of serendipity that appear. For example, when I wrote The Colonel’s Ungovernable Governess, there is a scene early on in the book where the heroine, Miss Jocelyn Romfield teaches young Lord Vincent something of being a gentleman. They are crossing the lawn together to the stables. Vincent, as many of you will recognize, is somewhere on the high performing end of the spectrum. In the scene, he starts off across the lawn ahead of Jocelyn. She remains in place. When he notices she is not following him, he turns to question her, and Jocelyn says a “gentleman,” and especially an earl, would walk beside a lady. When I wrote the scene, I wanted it purely to show the beginning of a true, trusting relationship between the boy, who is, yet again, with another new governess.

However, later in the book, I appreciated the serendipitous moment. For the child is brought before the family home, where he is the earl at age 10, and he is instructed to lead the party of adults inside. He is more than a bit terrified until Jocelyn whispers, “just as we walked to the stables.” I did not preplan the moment, but it was a perfect full circle moment to demonstrate how much the child had grown in the short time he has been under Jocelyn’s care. He politely asks her to walk beside him.

Another such bit of serendipity occurred when I had Mr. Darcy teach the boy something of the child’s ancestors. From the beginning of my composing the story, the boy’s surname, as I wrote it, was “Jennings,” and he is the Earl of Babcock and with his family seat at Babbington Hall in North Yorkshire. When I came to this part of the story, I did my own research on names and ended up doing my HAPPY DANCE (I shall not describe the dance, but it is much better than Steve Urkel’s in Family Matters, for at one time I danced professionally). “Babcock” is related to the name “de Bourgh.” Get it!!!! From the first pages of the book, I had written that Jocelyn’s mother is sister to Sir Lewis de Bourgh, Lady Catherine’s late husband. Her ladyship has suggested an arrange marriage between her nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and her late husband’s niece, Miss Jocelyn Romfield, who has run off rather than be given to a man she does not know (and is, shush, do not tell anyone, currently serving as governess to Lord Vincent Jennings.) Trust me I was patting myself on the back for something that simply fell into my lap.

Enjoy this scene where the child learns his lesson from Mr. Darcy, and grab the book now while it is on preorder. The Colonel’s Ungovernable Governess releases on Friday, May 10, just in time for Mother’s Day, here in the U.S.

Excerpt from Chapter Nine:

“Might I steal Lord Vincent away, Miss Lambert?” Edward asked. 

The boy looked up from his book in concern. 

“Most assuredly, Colonel,” the woman responded. “Lady Victoria and I were just taking up our needlepoint, and Lord Vincent was asked to spend time in reading.” 

The boy stood tentatively. “Have I . . . displeased you . . . sir?”

“Lord, no. Mr. Darcy and I thought we might share something with you. It is time you begin your instruction on becoming the next earl. And you will be reading history.” 

“Truly, sir?” the boy asked, looking about for something to hold in his hands. “Is it not . . . too soon?” 

“Actually, someone should have addressed it previously. My cousin has suggested it would be best if you begin with a knowledge of the Jennings family history in this country. When you are old enough to be called before the House of Lords, you will likely be asked such questions. Even if you are not, you should be made aware of your ancestral line. Once you do, you will better understand the pride with which those of the aristocracy speak of their roots.” 

Miss Lambert said, “How grand, Vincent. If I am hearing the colonel correctly, you possess an exemplary lineage.” 

Edward chuckled, “There were a few scoundrels. What good is it to have ancestors without a colorful history? Come along, Vincent, Mr. Darcy has discovered some gigantic book, just like those my cousin and you adore, that deals with lineage and the sort. You will provide me a gentle jab in my side if my eyes glaze over.” 

The boy looked to him as if Edward had a tick in his head, but he fell in step beside him. “Will I truly . . . be required . . . to know this . . . to be an earl?”

Edward paused to look down upon the child. Your man-of-business with legal matters will prepare your written request to assume the earldom, but you will eventually be called before the Lords, and they will ask many questions of your claim to the title. You will be expected to prove you are your father’s heir and he had the right to the earldom.” 

“What of . . . Uncle Philip?” the boy asked, indicating he had heard of his uncle’s desire to displace him.” 

“Although I have not looked at the letters patent, which are documents used to create peerages, to the specifics of your earldom, they are generally legal documents which express who may inherit. For example, the Matlock earldom includes limitations to ‘heirs of the male body.’ That means only lineal, as in your lineage, which Darcy will explain more in a few minutes, descendants of the original peer may succeed to the peerage. You will be asked to prove that you are the rightful descendant of the First Earl Babcock, just as I might be asked to prove I am a rightful descendant of the First Earl Matlock, if something occurred to both my father and my brother.” 

“Could you be . . . Lord Matlock?” the boy asked in obvious concern. 

“Those of us who are part of the peerage must always be aware of such matters. None of us are invincible. A man might fall from his horse or his carriage might overturn. Only God knows how long our days will be numbered. Such is the reason your mother brought you to William’s Wood. If something occurs to bring you harm, then your Uncle Philip will be asked to prove himself the next heir. Until you marry and produce a son of your own, your uncle is your heir. With Mrs. Darcy’s father, he had no sons, so a cousin is his heir. Does that make any sense?” he asked.

“I will be . . . expected to . . . produce an . . . heir?” the child said in wonder. 

“We all must marry eventually,” he told the child. “I know it must sound quite daunting to you. Trust me. It sounds equally daunting to me, and I am more than twenty years your senior.” 

“You are . . . to marry, sir?” the boy asked. 

“So says my father,” he told the child. “But we should not keep Darcy waiting longer. My cousin is quite excited by what he wishes to share with you.” 

As they walked, the child asked, “When will I . . . be called . . . to the Lords?”

“Not before your guardian, which is my brother, makes an official request. As it stands now, my brother and father would make the request for you. You will be consider the ‘remainder’ until you may assume the title. You are ‘remaining’ in place until it is your time to serve, which is customarily when you reach your majority. You will be the earl for all practical purposes, but it will not be official until you go before the Lords.” 

“Then I am . . . the earl . . . now?” the boy asked. 

“Yes. You will serve with your guardians to aid you. Those guardians are my brother, my father, and your mother. A male child is presented two males and one female guardian. It would be reversed for your sisters—two females and one male. Just as it is customarily executed with godparents. For example, I am one of Bennet Darcy’s godfathers, along with Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Bingley. Your guardians will assist you with the oversight of the estate and other such legal points.” 

The child nodded his understanding, but Edward noted a shift in the boy’s shoulders. as if the lad prepared for this new reality. Edward was beginning to think the child was not so unable to understand things, but rather no one had cared to speak to him of his responsibilities. Surely the boy was a bit eccentric, but the same could be said of Darcy and even of him. Ever human likes his own way best. 

“Ah!” Darcy said when they entered the library. “I am glad Miss Lambert could spare you.” 

Edward laughed. “I warned you Mr. Darcy would already have found several large books for you.” 

“Nonsense,” Darcy declared with a grin. “Lord Vincent and I understand each other. Am I correct, boy?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Though the boy agreed, he still appeared tentative. He sat on the chair to which Darcy had gestured. “There are many books that keep records of each peerage. They tell of when the peerages were created. If they became extant. Whether they changed names as additional peerages came under the same family crest. My own family and that of the colonel’s can trace their beginnings in what is known as the Doomsday Book. It is a manuscript record of the Great Survey of much of England and parts of Wales completed in 1086 at the behest of King William, the Conqueror. It is called ‘Doomsday’ because its decisions were unalterable.”

“Just as Lord Lindale is . . . part of the Matlock . . . earldom?” the boy asked. 

“Exactly,” Darcy confirmed. “So let us first look at the meaning of your name and names you recognize.” He glanced to Edward. “My cousin’s surname is easy. ‘Fitz’ come the French word fiz, which means ‘son.’ So the first Fitzwilliams in England were so called because they were the sons of a man called ‘William.’”

The boy smiled upon Edward. “The colonel’s father is not a ‘William.’” 

“No,” Darcy chuckled, “but if we look from father to grandfather to great-grandfather and so on, we would find more than one ‘William’ in the Fitzwilliam family.”

“And you, sir?” the child asked. 

“I am equally as easy. My family name also arrived in England during the Norman Conquest. It comes from the French barony of Arcy or d’Arcy.” 

Edward added, “In my cousin’s case, it could just as easily have come from the Irish word ÓDorchaide, which means a descendant of the dark-haired one, for the French first conquered Ireland before they came to England.”

The child had finally relaxed. “And ‘Jennings’?”

“Let us look in the book.” Darcy had marked the page with a slip of paper. “Would you please read what it says, my lord?”

Vincent sat straighter in the chair and moved the book closer before reading aloud. “An English patro . . .”

“Patronymic,” Darcy supplied, “meaning it is derived from the name of a male ancestor, typically by the addition of a prefix or suffix, as it was with ‘Fitzwilliam.’”

The child nodded his understanding, though he still stumbled somewhat over the correct pronunciation of “patronymic.” He began again, “An English patrony . . . mic family name. Derived from Middle English ‘Janyn’ or ‘Jenyn,’ a variation of ‘John.’” He turned to Edward. ‘Just like you from ‘William,’ sir. I am from ‘John.’” 

“Yes, indeed. Much the same,” Edward replied, before encouraging, “What else does it say?” 

“First recorded in the 13th century. Found in Wales and Scotland, but also Ulster. That means in Ireland, correct, sir?”

“It is one of the four provinces of Ireland,” Edward confirmed. 

The child appeared proud to know something of what he read, and he continued, “Before the 17th and 18th centuries, people called ‘Jennings’ as a surname were found in Cambridgeshire, Derbyshire, Hertfordshire, Somerset, Suffolk, Surrey, Worcestershire, and Yorkshire. That would be my family, would it not, Mr. Darcy?”

“It very well could be referring to your nearest ancestors. Now, turn to the other page I have marked,” Darcy encouraged. 

“What is this?” the boy asked. 

“This part speaks of the ‘Babcock’ name of your earldom. I do not expect you to read it all to the colonel and me, but it does speak to the specifics of the Babcock earldom. You should copy it out and begin to learn something of those who came before you. However, it is the name ‘Babcock’ I wanted you to explore. You will see one of the first notices of a written form of the word can be found in Lancashire.” 

“Unlike Jennings,” the boy’s finger traced the words as he read, “which has masculine roots, ‘Babcock’ has a matrony . . . mic . . . that means ‘mother’ or ‘woman,’ does it not, colonel? The ‘patron’ was a male.” 

“‘Matronymic’ does refer to women. Very good,” Edward said with a ruffling of the boy’s hair with his hand. 

With a large smile, the boy continued, “Matrony . . . mic origin. The first Babcock was likely the son of a woman named ‘Barbara. ‘Saint Barbara is honored by the Church for standing up for Christianity against the pagan household in which she dwelled. She was beaten and tortured, but she would not de . . . nounce her faith.

“The surname was first recorded in Essex in 1259 when ‘Nicholas Bab’ registered it in the Calendar of Wills at the Court of Husting.” 

“That is a court in London and is the oldest court in the capital,” Darcy quickly explained. “Continue.”  

“The word ‘cock’ is generally sob . . .” the boy broke off again. 

“‘Sobriquet,’” Darcy supplied. “It is a French word that originally meant a ‘tap under the chin’ or of unknown origin.” 

“Miss Lambert said Victoria and I must begin French lessons in earnest this week,” the child said obediently. 

“Excellent,” Edward declared. “Such will assist you with many of this country’s early documents, for French was the language of the English court from the Norman Conquest in 1066 to the late 1300s.” 

“Back to ‘sobriquet,’” Darcy instructed. 

“The word ‘cock’ is generally sobriquet for a sharp, forward boy.” 

Edward supplied several examples, “Such as Wilcox or Hancock.”

The boy admitted, “I never knew so much history goes into names.” 

“Your given name of ‘Vincent’ means ‘prevailing.’ It comes from the Latin word ‘vincere,’ meaning ‘to conquer,’” Darcy explained.

“I like my name much better now,” the child admitted. “And ‘Victoria’?” 

“From the Latin word for ‘victory.’ In Roman mythology,” Darcy explained, ‘Victoria’ was the name of the goddess of victory, who the Greeks called ‘Nike.’” 

The child smiled largely. “I will tell her, but she would prefer being the goddess of beauty.” 

He returned his finger to the page, as Darcy shared, “Babcock is an English surname, which can be pronounced as ‘Bartcock,’ which means ‘son of Bartholomew.’” 

Edward said, “Ironic indeed. You have much to study about both your family name and the title you will receive, but there was something special Mr. Darcy and I wished you to consider.” He turned the boy so he might take the child’s hands in his. “It was not by coincidence that my brother reached out to your mother to make her an offer of marriage. You see, the family name of ‘Jennings’ has more than the English derivation. There is also the Irish Gaelic surname of ‘Mac Sheoinin,’ meaning the son of Séan, or as we say in England, son of ‘John.’” 

“Is that not the same as before?” the boy asked. 

“It is,” Edward assured patiently. “Yet, there is or was a man called ‘John Burke,’ who was the Lord of Connacht with land in both County Mayo and County Galway. The Burke family in Ireland has lines which overlap with the French-based names in England. The Burkes had intersecting lines with the De Burgh and the de Bourgh families in England.” 

“And?” the boy’s expression spoke of his confusion. 

Edward smiled on the child. “I do not explain things as well as does Darcy. I never did. My cousin scored nearly perfect scores on his oral exams at university.” He sighed heavily. “You are Lord Babcock, which provides your connections to both the Burkes, as in the John Burke I just mentioned, as well as the De Burghs. Darcy and Lindale and Lord Matlock and I have connections to the French de Bourgh family. Our Aunt Catherine is Lady de Bourgh. She married Sir Louis de Bourgh. She is my father’s eldest sister.” 

“We are related?” the child asked in apparent bewilderment. 

“Loosely so,” Edward explained, “but family, nevertheless. It was our Lady Catherine who suggested your mother to Lindale.” 

The child appeared stunned by the possibility. He turned to Darcy, “Could you assist me, sir, in learning how best to read these lines and trace them to my ancestors. When I know how the family lines are connected, I would like to write to my mother and thank her for bringing my family and yours and the colonel’s together. I do not feel so . . . so . . . I do not know the word to describe it.” 

“I understand,” Darcy said softly. 

“Perhaps when I learn them, Miss Lambert will assist me in drawing a picture linking all of us together.” 

“Excellent idea,” Edward declared. “As I have my own correspondence to which I must see, I will leave you in Darcy’s most capable hands.” 

The Colonel’s Ungovernable Governess 

Rather than be forced to marry a man not of her choice, Miss Jocelyn Romfield runs away. She believes spending her life as a governess would be superior to a loveless marriage. 

An arrangement has been made by his father for Colonel Edward Fitzwilliam to marry a woman related to his Aunt Catherine’s last husband, Sir Lewis de Bourgh. Yet, how is Fitzwilliam expected to court his future bride, who has proven to be elusive during each of his attempts to take her acquaintance, when the governess of his brother’s stepchildren fills his arms so perfectly?

Jocelyn has no idea the man she has purposely avoided is the same one who fills her heart with love. 

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Giveaway! This giveaway ends TOMORROW, May 9, 2024. I have three eBook copies of The Colonel’s Ungovernable Governess available to those who comment on this post or any posts associated with the book’s release. Random.org will choose the winners. They will be contacted tomorrow and books will be delivered on May 10, 2024.