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The Common Practice of Primogeniture in Regency England

Posted on May 15, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

Of late, I have been studying the laws and statutes that comprised the practice of primogeniture in Regency England. In truth, I can only work on the project for a few hours each day for some of the material is written in such legal jargon that it has me back checking the meaning of certain words and of individuals, known widely in the UK, but of which I am unaware here in the States. Therefore, I am attempting to clear my thoughts by placing them on paper.

First, I discovered that there are few statistics available to chronicle the incidence of primogeniture as part of settlements and wills. During the period in which I am researching there were no register of settlements of land ownership, existing in the greater part of England. Scotland had such a register, but looking at them creates a conflicting estimates of settled and unsettled property. I have looked at several sources for wills, but they do not show the extent of the land bestowed. Nor can I determine with any accuracy whether they are displaying a will that aggravates or mitigates the settlements upon the eldest son. In the Regency, as far as I can tell there was no distinction in the records as to land passing by will and land passing by settlement. Even so, we can catch a glimmer of the influence of primogeniture on the social life of England.

First, we must recall that personal property is exempt from the law of primogeniture. Nor must it be forgotten that by English law, ordinary lease holds whether they consist of lands or houses, count as personalty and are distributed as such on intestacy; whereas, money in trust for investment in land counts as realty and falls under the same rule of inheritance. Vast lease holdings were constantly included in settlements of personalty, all without any references to primogeniture. In most instances, the funds were invested equally for the benefit of all the sons and daughters, though a power was usually reserved to the parents of modifying this distribution by “appointment,” at their own discretion. Testators of small landed estates purchased with their own funds also could direct the land to be divided equally among their children.

For members of the yeoman class or of the gentry, the ordinary practice was of primogeniture, with the inheritance going to the eldest son, but that, in accordance with the Scottish rule of legitim, younger children could be compensated, so far as possible, for their disinherison. If the land was burdened by mortgages, it could be sold and the profit divided equally among the survivors.

Gavelkind stood in contrast to the custom of primogeniture. Gavelkind is practiced in Kent, Wales, and parts of Ireland. In gavelkind the younger children are placed on equal footing with the eldest son, either by the subdivision or by heavy charges on the tenant-right.

Primogeniture was popular among the landed aristocracy and those who wished to be counted among their ranks. Among English squires, Scottish lairds, and the Irish gentry, primogeniture was accepted as a fundamental law to which the practice of entails, which was introduced in 1685, added substantial power. Currently in England, where so much land is in the hands of corporations or trustees for public objects, and where almost all deeds relating to land are in private custody, we cannot venture to speak with much confidence on this point.

Large estates were generally entailed either by will or settlement. Smaller hereditary estates were also often entailed. Some land that changed hands each year did so by the governance of the law of intestacy. What we do know is that an intestate may be carried into effect by arrangement within the family, or an amicable suit in equity, without the public becoming aware of the fact, especially if those wishes should coincide with the course of descent at common law.

Mr. Joshua Williams, a barrister at Lincoln Inn (1845) in his Principles of the Law of Real Property says, “In families where the estates are kept up from one generation to another, settlements are made every few years for this purpose; thus, in the event of a marriage, a life-estate merely is given to the husband; the wife has an allowance for pin-money during the marriage, and a rent-charge or annuity by way of jointure for her life, in case she should survive her husband. Subject to this jointure, and to the payment of such sums as may be agreed on for the portions of the daughters and the younger sons of the marriage, the eldest son who may be born of the marriage is made by the settlement tenant-in-tail. In case of his decease without issue, it is provided that the second son, and then the third, should in like manner be tenant-in-tail; and so on to the others; and in default of sons, the estate is usually given to the daughters; not successively, however, but as ‘tenants in common in tail,’ with ‘cross remainders’ in tail. By this means the estate is tied up till some tenant-in-tail attains the age of twenty-one years; when he is able, with the consent of his father, who is tenant for life, to bar the entail with all the remainders. Dominion is thus again acquired over the property, which dominion is usually exercised in a re-settlement on the next generation; and thus the property is preserved in the family. Primogeniture, therefore, as it obtains among the landed gentry of England is as custom only, and not a right; though there can be no doubt that the custom has originated in the right which was enjoyed by the eldest son, as heir to his father, in those days when estates-tail could not be barred.”

Posted in Act of Parliament, Anglo-Saxons, British history, business, commerce, Georgian England, history, Living in the Regency, marriage customs, primogenture, Scotland, titles of aristocracy, Wales | Tagged custom, entailments, gavelkind, law, primogeniture, Regency England | 3 Comments

Special Licences in Regency Era

Posted on May 13, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

In 1753, the Hardwick Marriage Act passed, and Georgian couples in England and Wales could choose among three ways to marry: with the reading of the banns, by a common (sometimes referred to as an “ordinary”) licence, and by special licence.

Marriage requirements in England according to Hardwicke’s Marriage Act of 1753–

a couple needed a license and the reading of the banns to marry
parental consent if either was under the age of 21
the ceremony must take place within a public chapel or church by authorized clergy
the marriage must be performed between 8am and noon before witnesses
the marriage had to be recorded in the marriage register with the signatures of both parties, the witnesses, and the minister.

Banns had been in use since the 1200s. An actual reading of the banns took place at the parish church over three consecutive Sundays (a minimum of 15 days, if one started counting on the first Sunday). They were called in the parish or parishes in which the bride and groom resided. The purpose of banns is to enable anyone to raise any canonical or civillegal impediment to the marriage, so as to prevent marriages that are invalid. Impediments vary between legal jurisdictions, but would normally include a pre-existing marriage that has been neither dissolved nor annulled, a vow of celibacy, lack of consent, or the couple’s being related within the prohibited degrees of kinship. Banns were more than likely used by the majority of the residents of a village or town. There was little or no expense involved. The couple then had ninety days to finalize the ceremony. If not done for whatever reason, the Banns would need to be called another time.

The wording of banns according to the rites of the Church of England is as follows:

I publish the banns of marriage between NN of (parish) and NN of (parish). This is the first / second / third time of asking. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. (Book of Common Prayer 1662)

According to Louis Allen at Jane Austen’s London, “A common licence could be issued by archbishops, bishops, some archdeacons and ministers in parishes which were ‘peculiars’ (eg St Paul’s cathedral). The 1753 Act required a marriage by licence to take place in a parish where one of the spouses had been resident for at least four weeks (i.e., George Wickham in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice), but this was often ignored.

“To obtain a licence someone, usually the bridegroom, had to apply at the registry for the appropriate jurisdiction and submit an allegation which was a statement, under oath, that there were no impediments to the marriage. Usually the document included the names, ages, occupations and marital status (single or widowed) of the parties and, if one of them was a minor, it had to name the parent or guardian giving their consent. Sometimes a money bond was provided to back up the allegation.

“Allegations, bonds and the licences themselves survive quite rarely. The licence was given to the couple to hand to the clergyman who would perform the marriage and, presumably, they often did not give them back.”

By the Regency the aristocrats were more likely to marry by ordinary license to avoid the publishing of the banns for 3 Sundays in a row. In that manner, it was easier to have a quiet family wedding in the local church. Quite a few middling sort married by common license as well to avoid vulgar comment from friends and enemies. The Hardwicke Marriage Act said all marriages by minors by license without permission were NULL and VOID from the beginning. People usually went to court (Church court) to have this made official to avoid other legal complications.

A Special Licensc was obtained from the Archbishop of Canterbury in Doctors Commons in London. The big differences between the “special” license and the “common” license were the cost – over 20 guineas plus a £4 to £5 Stamp Duty for the paper — and that the couple could be married at any time of the day and anywhere they wanted. All the other requirements were the same. As one can imagine, only someone very wealthy with a very good reason to pay the money, and go to the trouble of traveling to London and gaining an audience with the Archbishop of Canterbury, would hassle with it. Not an easy task even if rich.

The Archbishop did not need to know the couple—or the man’s title in the peerage—although the Archbishop usually knew of the family if the man was at all connected. The Archbishop was not personally involved with the granting of special or standard licences, which were dispensed at the office in Doctors’ Commons. He did have the right to limit the granting of special licences to whomever he wished. However the grants were customarily limited to the nobility, aristocracy, Judges, high ranking clerics, barristers, etc.—those who would be thought to extend their word as their bond that the information on the form was true as to age and permission. The ones who asked for special licences did not need to name their parishes as they would have for a standard license. In the Regency one had to appear in person or have the father or legal representative do so. It has to be someone who could swear to the truth of the facts. In this case, the most important part is that the female have valid permission for the marriage. If the invalidity of the marriage ever came to light, the couple would need to be remarry, if they so wished. Unfortunately, all children born during the voidable marriage would be considered illegitimate.

If the man (groom) is of an aristocratic family, a barrister, a clergyman, or otherwise of the status where he is likely to subscribe to the code that his word was his bond, he could obtain a special licence. If he wanted, the man could obtain a standard licence from the local bishop and pay the fee for a bond. It would be necessary for him to give the name of the church in which he and his prospective bride planned to marry, which was usually his parish church. The Ton customarily had two parish churches: Most had a country church and lived within the parish of St George Hanover Square in Town.

Though, obviously, more peers and their families married by special licence than did the gentry or the lower classes, in reality, there really were no more than about 300 issued in a hundred years. In other words, do not be misled by the number of dukes or the number of special licences one finds in Regency romance novels. Both were smaller in number than one could be led to believe.

All weddings, no matter where they took place, had to be recorded in the register of the parish church in which the wedding takes place. Even if a couple married by special licende at home, the marriage register was supposed to be signed by them.

Unlike the issuance of ordinary licences, there were no allegation bonds for special licences. The archbishop limited the disbursement of the special license to those who Gave their word—or from whom he expected to be truthful. The standard licence required a £100 bond. The fee paid was not great, and they never paid more unless the truth of the assertions came into question.

For further questions, have a look at these sites:

Miranda Neville’s Blog:

http://mirandaneville.blogspot.com/2016/01/what-did-special-license-look-like.html

Nancy Regency Researcher

http://www.regencyresearcher.com/pages/marriage.html

There’s actually quite a lot of detailed info on this page, including who can issue licenses if people are from different areas of England.

https://familysearch.org/learn/wiki/en/Marriage_Allegations,_Bonds_and_Licences_in_England_and_Wales

Posted in British history, Church of England, George IV, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Jane Austen, Levirate marriage, Living in the Regency, marriage, marriage customs, marriage licenses, Regency era, Wales | Tagged Archbishop of Canterbury, British history, calling of the banns, Church of England, common license, England, Hardwicke Marriage Act 1753, marriage, ordinary license, special license, Wales | 6 Comments

The Foils of Jane Austen, Part 1, a Guest Post from C. D. Gerard

Posted on May 10, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

The post originally appeared on the Austen Authors’ blog on January 26, 2019. Enjoy!

The question of why we love Jane Austen so much has been pondered by many a scholar and reader over the past 200 years. But if you ask ten people this question, you will surely get ten different answers.

Some would say the plots are what they like best. Others read and admire Austen for her wit and humor. And what about her amazing insight into romantic relationships?

I would say what makes Austen so great is her characters. After you’ve read an Austen novel, you remember these vibrant people in the story that jump right off the page. We remember Elizabeth Bennett’s staunch individuality, or Marianne Dashwood’s vulnerable and romantic disposition. We think of Fanny Price’s morality, and of course, who could dismiss the all-time favorite Fitzwilliam Darcy, the broodingly handsome hero who saves the day, not only for Elizabeth, but for the entire Bennett family.

But what about the minor characters? Most people don’t even give them a second thought. Why? Minor characters are the foundation that holds up the major players in a story. The are foils; put there to do a variety of things. They make a major character look prettier, or even plainer; think of Isabella Thorpe next to Catherine Moreland in “Northanger Abbey,” or more heroic, which was George Wickham’s function in regard to Darcy.

I have always been intrigued by these characters, and who they could have been i.f they’d had a stronger voice, and went beyond mere support of the main characters. So I decided to start developing them by giving them a story of their own.

The first one I wrote about was Mrs. Dashwood from “Sense and Sensibility” in my novel “Mrs. Dashwood Returns.” This was because I always thought Mrs. Dashwood got what you might call “a bum rap.”

Why? Just look at the plot. The story begins with the tragedy of her losing her husband and her home. She is betrayed by her stepson through his greedy and evil wife, leaving her and her daughters with very little means. Let’s face it; Fanny Dashwood makes the evil stepmother in “Cinderella” look like Mother Theresa.

Mary is forced to move from Sussex to Devonshire, and live on the kindness of a relative. Her daughters are jilted by the men they desire. It seems to never end as Mrs. Dashwood goes from heartbreak to heartbreak.

In the end, it is implied Mrs. Dashwood is happy with her daughter’s good fortune, but what about her life? We assume John and Fanny Dashwood go back to Norland Park and their immense wealth. They suffer no consequence for the pain they caused. The same goes for Mr. Willoughby. Sure, he marries a woman he doesn’t love; but what is that to all the wealth he gains in the process? I just felt things weren’t right with the universe, if these villains were allowed to triumph. In other words, Mrs. Dashwood needed a win.

And that is where “Mrs. Dashwood Returns” begins. Living quietly in her Devonshire cottage ten years after the weddings of her daughters, she is content, until circumstances led her back to Norland Park. There, in confronting John and Fanny, she gets the opportunity to be recognized as someone of worth. She is able to look back on her life and put things in prospective. She still holds bitterness over her and her daughters travails, but finds that though kindness and forgiveness, which are part of her nature, she makes peace with those that harmed her and her family. She also finds the love and support of a mysterious man that unexpectedly comes into her life when she thought all possibility of that kind of love was gone.

Most of all, I wished to make her into someone who was fearless; and never afraid to stand up for herself and her family. She is a great matriarch without great wealth or titles.

I plan to examine more minor characters. Next time, I will bring to light Thomas Bertram, oldest son of Mr. and Mrs. Bertram, and the hero of my novella, “Becoming Sir Thomas.”

Posted in Austen Authors, books, excerpt, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Guest Post, historical fiction, Industry News/Publishing, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Mansfield Park, real life tales, Regency era, Regency romance, Vagary, writing | Tagged Austen Authors, C. D. Gerard, characterization, foils, Jane Austen, Mansfield Park, minor characters | Comments Off

The Effects of Primogeniture on Family Dynamics

Posted on May 6, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

51Bi-8QRTGL._SX381_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg As a writer of historical fiction set in England during the Regency era, I am constantly dealing with the ramifications of the practice and the law of primogeniture. In primogeniture, the first born legitimate son is the sole inheritor of his father’s estate and realty property. This is done is preference to daughters, younger sons, other male relations, and elder illegitimate sons. The son of a deceased elder brother inherits before a living brother by right of substitution for the deceased heir. A system of perpetual entails are achieve by entailing the property not on the man’s son, but upon his grandson. But what does this practice do to the other members of the family.

First, what is the distinction between the law of primogeniture and the custom practiced within Great Britain. The custom of primogeniture is nestled in the practice of entailing land. The law of primogeniture concerns the rule governing the inheritance of property from an individual dying intestate. Ordinarily, the real estate of said individual devolves on the eldest son or heir-at-law, which is determined by the canons of descent. British history tells us soon after the Norman Conquest the right of the eldest son to inherit his father’s land moved from custom to an indefeasible right to a judicial practice during the reign of Edward IV, when the father acquired the power to disinherit his son by fraudulent actions, to Henry VIII’s Statute of Wills, where the right of testamentary bequest was partly conceded, to the period of the Restoration, which abolished feudal tenure and extended the limitations to the whole estate.

The seventeenth century saw the devolutions of settlements, which reflects modern law. Hence all realty devolved to the eldest upon a parent’s death intestate. Even so, personal property is dispensed by different provisions passed during the reign of Charles II and James II. These are known as the Statutes of Distribution. The personal property of an intestate is separated as such: (1) if there is no widow, the children receive the property in equal shares; (2) if there are children and a widow, the children receive two-thirds (after creditors have been repaid) and the widow one-third; (3) the eldest son still retains the real estate, but he is also entitled to his share of the personal property; (4) if there is a widow, but no children, the widow receives half; the other half goes to the man’s father, if alive; if not, to his mother and siblings in equal shares; and (5) if there are no widow, children, parents or siblings, personal property goes to the next of kin, traced by definition of civil law.

220px-Sarah_Sophia_Child_Villiers,_Countess_of_Jersey_(née_Fane)_(1785-1867),_by_Alfred_Edward_Chalon.jpg Although on the surface women of the aristocracy appeared to enjoy the power of their positions, in reality, like their middle-class counterparts, they depended upon the men in their lives for their status and their financial futures. Only a very few, such as Sarah Villiers, Countess of Jersey, knew financial freedom, managing to retain the power she inherited from her mother, the only issue of Robert Child, the principal shareholder in the banking firm Child & Co. Under the terms of Child’s will, not only did Lady Jersey inherit Osterley Park, but she became senior partner in the bank. At her death, Lady Jersey’s personal estate was near £300,000.

However, Lady Jersey was the exception. Generally speaking, a woman depended upon her father or her husband, or in the case of spinsterhood or being a widow, her fate might rest with a brother or a cousin or some distant relative. Even family trusts and jointures did not protect a woman’s limited income from ending up in her husbands’ hands to use as the husband wished. Neither did the Married Women’s Property Acts of 1870, which allowed married women to be the legal owners of the money they earned and permitted them to inherit property. In 1882, this principle was extended to all property, regardless of its source or when it was acquired.

Daughters were a financial burden on their families: gowns, fripperies, special tutors to “polish” their manners and accomplishments, as well as the drain of their portions upon the estate coffers. A daughter who did not marry or who did not “take” well in society became pensioners at the loss of their parents.

Needless to say, the custom of primogeniture protected and maintained families.

Charles Neate speaks of the “familial” aspect of primogeniture. “It is a hard thing for a father to have to confess and excuse his extravagance to a son, or to justify his desire for a second wife. It is a worse thing for a son to judge his father’s excuses, or to decide naturally, as head of the family, whether it is right that his father should be allowed to marry again.” [Probyn, J. W. (Editor). Systems of Land Tenure in Various Countries: A Series of Essays Published Under the Sanction of the Cobden Club. London. Cassell, Petter, & Galpin. page 403.] The eldest son’s indefeasible right to succession weakens parental authority, especially as both the fathers and the sons age.

418DATBF3PL._SX385_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg Moreover, a widow’s fate is always tentative under the idea of primogeniture. A widow loses much with the death of her husband. A woman’s place in society is linked to her husband’s position. While her son claims his late father’s role, the widow must step aside to permit the son’s wife the role of mistress of the estate. Often such meant her removal to a smaller residence. In The Scarlet Tree (Macmillian, 1947, 16-17), volume two of a four-part autobiography, from Osbert Sitwell, the author describes his grandmother Lady Londesborough. (William Henry Forester Denison, 1st Earl of Londesborough married Lady Edith Frances Wilhelmina Somerset, daughter of Henry Somerset, 7th Duke of Beaufort in 1863.) “Not only did the old lady lose [him], but … nearly all her belongings, being obliged to pursue hereafter the dolorous manner of life decreed by tradition for an English dowager; not only were horses and carriages and grooms and gardens and houses and jewels and plate, and indeed, the whole luxurious decoration of life by which she had been so long surrounded, snatched from her at a single grab, but she also forfeited … the love of the majority of those who had pretended to be her friends. She felt, I apprehended, peculiarly desolate, though as a rule she would not admit it.”

Common law says a widow was legally entitled to a dower share or one-third of her husband’s estate after his death, for under the law of primogeniture, the husband owned only the real property, not the furnishings, etc. He could designate a higher percentage in his will, but that would be the exception, not the rule. As the dowager, she would receive one-third of the income produced by the “farm” or the rental property of her husband’s estate. This meant one-third of the rents and the income from crops grown upon the land. At the husband’s death, a mortgage or outstanding debts offset the value of real estate and other property. However, the dower’s share could not be sold until after the widow’s debt.

Under English common law, the man’s widow was entitled to a share of her deceased husband’s real estate. After the widow’s death, the husband’s will determined how the real estate would be dispensed. She had no right to sell or bequeath the land to another. Depending on the income she was provided by her dower rights and the dowry, the money and goods negotiated by the bride’s father or guardian upon her marriage, she could live well and independent or lead her days within the world of poverty.

Nancy Regency Researcher adds, ” One point the source that has not been mentioned in [the information on the “dower” is the widow could not receive dower if she received anything in the marriage settlements or the man’s will – such as a jointure of any size or any legacy whatsoever to the wife, that deprived her of her right to dower. Any settlements made in the marriage settlements or mention in a will deprived the widow of dower. She only had a chance at dower if she was left no other income. If the successor does not set it up in a legal fashion that suits both parties, then the sheriff arranges matters and is the one to give the widow her dower.

“The rules in the city of London vary somewhat as do those in Kent or where gravelkind is practiced. The rules generally only applied where there was no will. What paraphernalia belonged to the wife and what to the estate has also caused bitter controversy. Much depended on whether the widow was the mother of the successor or not. Sometimes the furniture was declared part of the hereditary estate like the pictures and could not be sold or divided up. Barristers and solicitors have been making their fortunes over wills and estates ever since they were first created.”

The Real Property Commission of 1828 was issued by King George IV to inquire into the law of England respecting real property. The Commissioners regarded the English law of intestacy as “far better adapted to the constitution and habits of this kingdom than the opposite law of equal partibility, which, in a few generations, would break down the aristocracy of the country, and, by the endless subdivision of the soil, must ultimately be unfavorable to agriculture, and injurious to the best interests of the State.” (The Solicitors’ Journal and Reporter) In other words, the Commission ruled that the land should not be divided and subdivided through generations of children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, etc., until little was left of the original estate.

Primogeniture and inheritance plays a major role in my romantic suspense novel, Angel Comes to the Devil’s Keep, a 2017 Finalist for the Daphne Du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense. When one brother wishes to claim the earldom belonging to the elder, murder is the least of the man’s transgressions.

Angel Comes to the Devil’s Keep [Romantic Suspense]

Huntington McLaughlin, the Marquess of Malvern, wakes in a farmhouse, after a head injury, being tended by an ethereal “angel,” who claims to be his wife. However, reality is often deceptive, and Angelica Lovelace is far from innocent in Hunt’s difficulties. Yet, there is something about the woman that calls to him as no other ever has. When she attends his mother’s annual summer house party, their lives are intertwined in a series of mistaken identities, assaults, kidnappings, overlapping relations, and murders, which will either bring them together forever or tear them irretrievably apart. As Hunt attempts to right his world from problems caused by the head injury that has robbed him of parts of his memory, his best friend, the Earl of Remmington, makes it clear that he intends to claim Angelica as his wife. Hunt must decide whether to permit her to align herself with the earldom or claim the only woman who stirs his heart–and if he does the latter, can he still serve the dukedom with a hoydenish American heiress at his side?

Posted in British history, eBooks, Great Britain, history, Living in the UK, primogenture | Tagged Angel Comes to the Devil's Keep, books, custom of primogeniture, Great Britain, law, primogeniture | 2 Comments

Using Austen as a Historical Resource, a Guest Post from Don Jacobson

Posted on May 1, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on January 30, 2019. Enjoy!

One of my favorite books is Natalie Zemon Davis’ The Return of Martin Guerre (1983) which heralded the advent of a new historical school: that of subaltern history—essentially the history of sergeants not generals. Davis used court records and other documents to reconstruct a mid-16^th Century narrative that was all but lost to history. Davis’ work was undertaken in the midst of what historians have come to articulate as the cultural turn, a period when post-Vietnam War historians combined anthropology, sociology, and history to create ethnographic studies. Such treatises endeavored to offer a more informed context against which the rise of specific personalities and movements can clearly be projected and better be understood.

I do commend the book (not necessarily the film) to you. However, Davis’s treatment of assumed identity and its ultimate unmasking is not central to this essay. Rather it is the conclusion of Professor Davis’ Preface that sets the stage for my contemplation about how readers can use the Canonical works as historical documents revealing nuances of English life several levels below the rarified atmosphere inhaled by those whose existence attracted the attentions of men like Lord Acton.

I would figure out why Martin Guerre left his village and where he went, how
and why Arnaud du Tilh became an imposter…and why he failed to make it
stick. This would tell us new things about sixteenth-century rural society. …
And I would have the rare opportunity to show an event from peasant life
being reshaped into a story by men of letters.

&&&&

Turning to the works of Jane Austen, we find many places where the author used her own observations as a member of the gentry, albeit rising from modest roots as a clergyman’s daughter, to add context to her writing. Austen created a world, as I have noted before, that was utterly familiar to her audience. Her readers did not require explanations the actions of her characters nor the great social questions that roiled British society during the Napoleonic period (~1792-1815). War, slavery, the Industrial Revolution, social mobility (both upwards as well as downwards), and religion were amongst the topics against which the good Lady cast the movements of the persons populating her created worlds.

Like Mary Shelley, whose The New Prometheus explored (nearly 70 years before Nietzsche wrote Parable of the Madman) explored the question of Man displacing God in the universal hierarchy through the Industrial Revolution, Austen, I believe, can offer us insights into the world in which she lived.

Consider the question of the Church. Austen watched her father, a Church of England vicar, interact with a panoply of characters who surely passed through or brushed against the parsonage at Steventon. She certainly stored those encounters to call them up later when her writing demanded it.

Likewise, Austen was certainly aware of the echoes of The Great Awakening, a purification movement led by George Whitefield, an associate of the Wesley brothers, who, in a series of evangelical meetings (1740) in the American colonies, put a stick in the spokes of Church dominance in American colonial politics. Then there were the activities of the afore-mentioned Wesleys—John and Charles—who pointed to the inherent corruption of a state-run church. Their movement and its followers, today embodied in the Methodist conference, was derisively referred to as Dissenters. They were barred from English political life and the gentry, itself dependent upon government good-will. The Dissenters instead founded their own schools and went into the one avenue of advancement open to them…trade.

Might Charles Bingley’s father or grandfather have been non-conformist Dissenters?

However, back to religion.

There were surely those who were engaged in one of the avenues of financial security open to them: second and third sons of gentle birth. Trapped as they were by Britain’s hidebound grip on male primogeniture (even unentailed Pemberley would have ended up in the hands of Georgiana Darcy’s husband through coverture if ODC had never gotten together) inheritance, these young men often availed themselves the squirearchy’s employment service, the Church of England.

Like the aristocracy, the Church was not merit-based.

Lest you think I am forgiving of William Collins, I must, as Churchill said If Hitler invaded Hell I would at least make a favorable reference to the Devil in the House of Commons, offer a degree of mitigation. We need to look beyond his shortcomings. How could an unconnected man like Collins, also short on intellectual fortitude, find employment after his ordination? Yet, work he must lest he gently starve while waiting for Mr. Bennet to meet his Maker.

A more accomplished man with higher status like Edmund Bertram, admittedly strained by the denial of his preferred living and being forced to accept £100 a year, could afford not to scramble if either his father or brother was willing to feed and house him. Collins had no such avenues open to him. Who would grant him a living and why?

Desperation would have amplified Collins’ natural syncophancy, much as Austen did, to allow him to be appealing to Lady Catherine. Likewise, we must assume that Austen did not create the personality of Lady Catherine from the whole cloth. We can infer that both Collins and Lady Catherine served as examples of personality archetypes. I would imagine that she heard her father wax poetic about this curate or that benefactor.

Austen does offer us a different portrait of churchmen once we gain some distance from the oleaginous Collins. I always find much to admire in the upright nature of Edward Ferrars. His honorable nature, exemplified by seeking to fulfill his promise to Lucy Steele and sacrificing his own happiness in the process, allows us to see the decent sort of man who most likely inhabited the large number of livings across the Isles. Ferrars was Austen’s first published portrait of a Man of God.

And, we must recall that Austen returned to type with Bertram in Mansfield Park after she swung her ink-tipped blade in Pride and Prejudice. I could imagine either man spending all night at the bedside of a failing parishioner with none of the sanctimonious pretensions that Collins would have expressed to inflate his feeble ego. None of these men are Bishops, Canons, or Archbishops. That was left to Trollope in Barchester Towers.

I took the Ferrars/Bertram model to heart when developing the character of Edward Benton (Bennet) in The Keeper: Mary Bennet’s Extraordinary Journey, the first book in the Bennet Wardrobe series. While I was not reconstructing a hidden discourse, I sought to apply the same techniques Austen put to work as she shaped her characters. I cast Benton in the reformist as opposed to Dissenter mode, assuming that he too would conduct his ministry in whatever parish he could win, never seeking to advance himself to the detriment of his congregants and community.

Please enjoy this excerpt from The Keeper.

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This excerpt is © 2017 by Don Jacobson. Any reproduction in any manner either electronic or print without the expressed written consent of the author is prohibited. Published in the United States of America.

This excerpt was extracted from a letter from Benton to Mary Bennet dated July 23, 1812. In it he describes an encounter in Boston with the 77-year-old John Adams, lately the second President of the United States, at a reception for Harvard students at the Boylston house. Here we see Benton expounding the ideals of a young man deep in faith but also social consciousness.

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“We were seated together by chance near a beautiful bay window overlooking the back garden when Mr. Adams spoke to me.

He turned his gaze upon me and asked, “So, Mr. Benton, you are attending Harvard College. But, you are a stranger in a strange land, trapped here by the circumstances of war. Why are you here? Are you a spy? Are you some sort of agent provocateur for your masters at St. James? Explain yourself.”

I recalled that Mr. Adams had been the most accomplished lawyer in Massachusetts during colonial days. One only has to read his Dissertation on the Canon and Feudal Law or his defense of the British soldiers charged in the Boston Massacre to understand that he has a mind like a steel trap, ready to snap shut and extinguish anyone who prevaricates. Thus, my answer was frank.

“Sir, my family is of gentle circumstances, but without great resources. A distant relation prevailed upon Bishop Hobart to sponsor my studies at the College. I hope to take Holy Orders upon graduation and then, once the war has ended, return to Great Britain. My ministry will be amongst those who are in the middle of a social upheaval we are calling ‘The Industrial Revolution.

“I am no radical. But I do believe that the government in Westminster is held firmly in the grip of landowners who have no concept of how the world is changing around them. Great Britain will always grow things, to be sure. But, new and prodigious wealth will be found in the mines, looms, and forges that are springing up across the Midlands.

“Land powered the Agricultural Revolution. But, Mr. Adams, people will power the industrial one. And those souls will need spiritual support and advocates to take their part.”

The Old President leaned back in his chair. Dropping his chin onto his chest and planting his stick on the floor like a monarch would the scepter of state, he stared at me as if he would bore a hole to my soul.

“You sound like my son John Quincy. He is always going on about how the world will move on the legs of millions and be powered by steam. You also remind me of my revolutionary brother Mr. Jefferson. Always the bright-eyed idealist.

“You know, the world has made much of the break between us. That was politics. He and his family have always been dear to Mrs. Adams and me. We have begun exchanging letters again these past several months thanks to the machinations of Dr. Rush and my wife.”

Posted in American History, Austen Authors, book excerpts, British history, Georgian England, Georgian Era, historical fiction, history, Industrial Revolution, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, peerage, political stance, reading habits, real life tales, Regency era, research, Vagary | Tagged American history, book excerpt, British history, Don Jacobson, guest post, historical fiction, history, Jane Austen, research, The Keeper | Comments Off

A Round-up of Stories in 2019 and Previews of Coming Attractions

Posted on April 29, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

Despite a recent diagnosis of diabetes, my 2019 has been going exceptionally well, and the writing has been flowing out of me, of late. In 2018, I caught the flu, which turned into bronchitis and then into pneumonia. I was down for the count for over two months, which put a definite crimp in my writing regime. I am one of those authors who writes daily. I say it is because I became accustomed to journaling several years past and just carried my writing forward in a different format. I have both Austen-inspired pieces and Regency tales to share below.

So, far in 2019, I have released two books, and I have 3 novellas (two in upcoming anthologies) and two more novels to make a showing before year’s end. Therefore, today, I possess all kinds of publishing news: recent and in the upcoming months. I have two first chapters to share, one for a new Regency novella and the second for a new Pride and Prejudice vagary available for your reading pleasure. Read to the end and comment on any of my publishing news to be part of my GIVEAWAY. See anything that interests you? Let me know. I have TWO eBooks of In Want of a Wife and two eBooks of Lady Chandler’s Sister available to those who respond below. Four winners in total. The giveaway ends at midnight EDST on Friday, May 3.

On February 11, I released In Want of a Wife. If you have yet to read, please have a look.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” – Jane Austen

Elizabeth Bennet Darcy wakes in an unfamiliar room, attended by a stranger, who claims she is his wife and saying she has suffered an injury to her head. He accuses her of pretending her memory loss, but to Elizabeth, the fear is real.

“Surely you know me,” he protested. His words sounded as if he held his emotions tightly in check. “I am William. Your husband.”

She thought to protest, but the darkness had caught her hand and was leading her away from him. With one final attempt to correct his declaration, her mind formed the words, but her lips would not cooperate. Her dissent died before she could tell him: I do not have a husband!

Fitzwilliam Darcy despises his new wife, for he fears she has faked her love for him, better to see her family well-settled, and if love is not powerful enough to change a life, what is?

“This is unacceptable. I realize I was never your first choice as a husband, but it is too late to change your mind. The vows have been spoken. The registry signed. You cannot deny your pledge with this ploy. I will not have it. No matter how often you call out George Wickham’s name, he will never be your husband. I will never release you.”

Kindle https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NFCRL29/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1549511383&sr=8-8&keywords=in+want+of+a+wife

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Want-Wife-Regina-Jeffers/dp/1795770139/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?keywords=i+want+of+a+wife+by+regina+jeffers&qid=1549632655&sr=8-1-fkmr0

Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1130552706?ean=2940161229668

Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/in-want-of-a-wife-9

On March 23, I released the third book in the Twins’ trilogy, Lady Chandler’s Sister.

Sir Alexander Chandler knows his place in the world. As the head of one of the divisions of the Home Office, he has his hand on the nation’s pulse. However, a carriage accident on a deserted Scottish road six months earlier has Sir Alexander questioning his every choice. He has no memory of what happened before he woke up in an Edinburgh hospital, and the unknown frightens him more than any enemy he ever met on a field of battle. One thing is for certain: He knows he did not marry Miss Alana Pottinger’s sister in an “over the anvil” type of ceremony in Scotland.

Miss Alana Pottinger has come to London, with Sir Alexander’s son in tow, to claim the life the baronet promised the boy when he married Sorcha, some eighteen months prior. She understands his responsibilities to King and Crown, but this particular fiery, Scottish miss refuses to permit Sir Alexander to deny his duty to his son. Nothing will keep her from securing the child’s future as heir to the baronetcy and restoring Sir Alexander’s memory of the love he shared with Sorcha: Nothing, that is, except the beginning of the Rockite Rebellion in Ireland and the kidnapping of said child for nefarious reasons.

An impressive ending to the beautifully crafted Twins’ Trilogy – Starr’s ***** Romance Reviews

Love. Power. Intrigue. Betrayal. All play their parts in this fitting conclusion to a captivating, romantic suspense trio. – Bella Graves, Author & Reviewer

Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PVT5GQ9/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=lady+chandler%27s+sister&qid=1553390378&s=gateway&sr=8-2

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091376581/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=lady+chandler%27s+sister&qid=1553430979&s=gateway&sr=8-2

Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/lady-chandler-s-sister

Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1131002644?ean=2940161421314

On May 13, I will release Letters from Home, which was part of the Christmas Ever After anthology. The anthology has just been pulled from sales (customary practice for group projects), and each author is permitted to release her story as she pleases. I will be releasing this story as an eBook for Kindle and on Kindle Unlimited, as quickly as Dreamstone Publishing makes the book rights available to me.

“Letters from Home”

She is the woman whose letters to another man kept Simon alive during the war. He is the English officer her late Scottish husband praised as being incomparable. Even without the spirit of Christmas, she stirs his soul; in her, his heart whispers of being “home.” However, the lady wishes to remain invisible and in her place as her cousin’s companion. Can Major Lord Simon Lanford claim Mrs. Faith Lamont as his wife or will his rise to the earldom and his family’s expectations keep them apart?

July 5 will bring another Dreamstone Publishing anthology release, with the theme of a Regency Summer Escape. My contribution will be a piece called Courting Lord Whitmire. I loved how this story came together. Lord Andrew Whitmire has spent the last fifteen years away from England, first in the Napoleonic Wars and then on the Canadian front in Rupert’s Land. He is suffering from the betrayal of his father and his wife, the rejection of his daughter, and the lost of his best friend at the Battle of Waterloo. He is nearly 42 years of age and prepared to meet death as a lonely man. That is, until he meets Miss Verity Coopersmith, the young cousin of his friend Robert Coopersmith. The woman is half his age, and Andrew is fond of saying he “is old enough to be her father.” Yet, the lady finds a way past all of his barriers to prove she is worthy of courting Lord Whitmire, and he is worthy to claim her love.

At the bend of a path, an unexpected meeting. She is all May. He is December. But love knows not time.

October 16 will see the release of The Heartless Earl from Black Opal Books. It is part of the Common Elements Romance Project. Each book in the project, no matter its genre, will contain the same 5 elements: a lightning storm, a set of lost keys, a haunted house (or rumored to be haunted), a stack of thick books, and a person named Max.

STERLING BAXTER, the Earl of Merritt, has married the woman his father has chosen for him, but the marriage has been everything but comfortable. Sterling’s wife, Lady Claire, came to the marriage bed with a wanton’s experience. She dutifully provides Merritt his heir, but within a fortnight, she deserts father and son for Baron Lyall Sutherland. In the eyes of the ton, Lady Claire has cuckolded Merritt.

EBBA MAYER, longs for love and adventure. Unfortunately, she’s likely to find neither. As a squire’s daughter, Ebba holds no sway in Society; but she’s a true diamond in the rough. Yet, when she meets Merritt’s grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Merritt creates a “story” for the girl, claiming if Ebba is presented to the ton as a war widow with a small dowry, the girl will find a suitable match.

LORD LYALL SUTHERLAND remains a thorn in Merritt’s side, but when the baron makes Mrs. Mayer a pawn in his crazy game of control, Merritt offers the woman his protection. However, the earl has never faced a man who holds little strength of title, but who wields great power; and he finds himself always a step behind the enigmatic baron. When someone frames Merritt for Lady Claire’s sudden disappearance, Sterling must quickly learn the baron’s secrets or face a death sentence.

__________________________________________________________________________

On October 18, Dreamstone Publishing will release its latest Christmas anthology, which will feature tales of “intelligent women.” The anthology will be available for 6 months (October to mid March 2020) for a price of $0.99. My contribution is called Last Woman Standing. Miss Gwendolyn Hawthorne has come to River’s End to serve as the Dowager Marchioness Rivens’s companion. However, when Lady Rivens’s annual Christmas ball is over, the “last woman standing,” so to speak, wins the hand of the lady’s grandson, Jackson Shaw, the Marquess of Rivens.

Here is my first excerpt for today. (This excerpt is from my WIP. It has NOT been edited, so no screaming about errors. LOL!)

Chapter One

“Blast it all!” Gwendolyn growled as her boot again sank in the heavy snow, sending a cold slush seeping in around her ankles. What choice did she have but to traverse the nearly two miles to the Rivens’s estate? If she expected to be presented with employment, it was imperative she arrive at the estate today. Lady Rivens’s instructions had been quite specific in that manner. Certainly neither Gwendolyn nor her ladyship could have anticipated either the snowstorm or the broken crankshaft sustained by the mail coach, the only transportation Gwendolyn could afford. Her nearly empty purse was also the reason she could not hire someone to transport her to the Rivens’s manor—the lack of funds and the nearly knee deep snow accumulating in every nook and cranny along the road.

Her father’s cousin, and long-time enemy, had spent little time in ordering her from her family’s small estate, leaving her to beg for assistance from the village’s vicar and his wife until she could secure a position. Vicar Grayson attempted to speak to her father’s heir regarding an allowance for Gwendolyn, but all knowledge of her father’s will, which should have provided for her, had been denied my the estate’s new master. Despite the Graysons promising to keep her as long as she chose to stay in Surrey, she did not think she could bear to look upon Loyton Hawthorne’s face again without executing a bit of damage to the man’s too large nose.

“Must keep my temper in its place,” she chastised when she stopped to dust the snow off the road sign to determine which way to turn. It was getting late, and she needed to reach the manor house before she became lost. She had left her trunk at the coaching inn and only carried a small bag with a change of clothes and her personal possessions.

“For all I know Lady Rivens is as villainous as is Cousin Loyton.” These were the words she had hidden from the Graysons and from herself. Gwen had received word of the position as a companion to Lady Rivens through an agency. According to the request, Lady Rivens wished the services of a gentleman’s daughter, one preferably comfortable residing in the country, rather than in Town.

Such described Gwendolyn perfectly. She was the daughter of a gentleman, and, despite being two and twenty, she had never spent one day in London. Had never had a gentleman caller. Until this journey, had never traveled outside her village. Had never known anything but the bucolic existence her father preferred. “Had never been to the moon,” she grumbled, as she worried once again whether Lady Rivens would wish her to be more worldly. “All I know of the world can be found within the pages of a book.” She stopped to consider another thing she should have asked of the position before she took it. “Do you suppose Lady Rivens will require constant nursing?” A deep frown found its way upon Gwen’s features. “I pray that is not the case because I do not have the stomach to clean up another’s—”

Gwen shivered with both a cold gust of air tugging at her pelisse and the remembrance of cleaning the runny noses of two of the Graysons’ younger children, as well as mopping up the results of their upset stomachs.

Realizing she needed to move or freeze to death, she set out again. Following the sign pointing to a narrow lane, she plugged along, side-stepping the deeper snow drifts. Spotting an opening in the wood line, Gwen hurried forward, wanting to be out of the cold and the dampness. “I will be fortunate not to come down with an ague.”

It was then she heard the cracking sound beneath her feet, and she halted in place. “Blast and double blast!” she grumbled. She dared not to move, fearing the ice upon which she stood would crack again, and she would tumble into the icy water beneath. “How could I have mistaken a frozen pond for a glade?” The idea dumbfounded her. She was customarily quite sensible. Tilting her head back, she called out to the Heavens, “Now what God?” She lifted her skirt, better to view the ice beneath her feet.

“Perhaps I may be of assistance,” a distinctly baritone voice responded from some where off her right shoulder.

Gwen dared not turn to view whoever had come to her rescue. Any movement could, literally, be her downfall.

“Assistance would be a blessing,” she assured the stranger.

She remained perfectly still as he circled what must be the banks of the pond. When he came into view, she blinked several times to clear her eyes, thinking she must be mistaken, for the man was the most handsome gentleman she had ever encountered, Although her interactions with members of the aristocracy was limited, she recognized quality when she saw it. Dark, nearly raven-black hair. A well hewn noble countenance. Full lips, turned up in an engaging smile. Nose, just a bit crooked. Full chest. Trim waist. And wearing a many-caped greatcoat that flapped open in the breeze, providing the impression of his being as strong and dangerous as an ancient conqueror of the land.

Quickly lowering her skirts, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “I am grateful for your presence, sir.”

“I do not often encounter a soul brave enough to venture upon Pandora’s Pond, especially before the ice thickens to a reliable three to four inches.”

Gwen found herself blushing. Hopefully, with the darkening shadows, he did not take notice of her embarrassment. “I thought I had simply left the woods for an open glade,” she explained.

He glanced back to the tree line. “I suppose you did. Unfortunately, if you had entered from the opposing tree line, say over there,” he pointed to where he had emerged from the woods, “there is a wider bank.”

Cold and frightened, Gwendolyn’s response exposed her exasperation. “I shall keep your advice in mind if I have the opportunity to pass this way again. That is, assuming you would agree to extend a hand in my rescue.”

He crossed his arms as if to ward off her growing outrage. “I am no longer certain.”

Gwendolyn sputtered, “You cannot mean to walk away without a care? What if the ice cracks, and I fall in?”

“Exactly,” he said. “If the ice cracks, I will be forced to dive in after you, and it is excessively cold out here.”

“You coxcomb!” she growled, just barely stopping herself from stomping her foot. “Very well. Go on about your business. I absolve you of any blame in my demise. I shall manage just fine without you.” Without waiting for his response, she lifted her small bag in her two hands above her head and gave it a heave-ho in the direction of the bank. Regrettably, the shift of her weight and the icy surface beneath her feet had her windmilling to keep her balance. Tumbling over backward, she lost the battle, slamming hard against the ice. Another louder crack of the surface followed, and Gwen groaned in helplessness as icy water seeped in around her.

She heard the gentleman’s, “Oh, no. No. No. No!” but she did not turn her head to observe his efforts to reach her. Her vision was blurry, and her limbs felt too heavy for her to lift them.

It was then she felt his hands on her ankles. “Do not move!” he grunted. “I have you!”

He slid her across the ice, tugging her, heels first. As ridiculous as it would appear to those who had never experienced the sensation of the heat of his hands engender combined with the cold surface, Gwen smiled.

At length, his hands were on her knees, then her thighs, and, finally, her waist. He maneuvered her to the side of where he was stretched out upon the ice. He wedged his hands beneath her back and lifted her carefully to a seated position, cradling her to him. “Tell me you are not injured,” he pleaded.

She pressed a wet glove to her forehead and sought a look at her surroundings. “Allow me a moment,” she murmured.

“I fear we do not have a moment,” he said in cautious tones. “We are still on the ice, and I do not think it will long support the both of us.”

Gwen attempted to make sense of his words, but her head still buzzed from her fall.

“Bear with me,” he said. She felt him brace her weight against what certainly was a large rock, and then his heat and his closeness was gone. She heard the crunch of his boots on the snow behind her, before, with a grunt, he lifted her upward in what was surely an awkward position for him. Swinging her around, he again placed her down, this time on the trunk of a fallen tree. He braced her in an upright position with a hand on her shoulder to keep her steady. The clean scent of soap and the heat of his body only added to her incoherence. Gwen had never been so close to a gentleman in her life. “You will pardon me, but I should examine the back of your head. You took quite a fall.”

Gwen managed to shrug away his suggestion. “I only require a minute,” she insisted, blinking several times to keep his image in focus.

Up close, his smile was as breath-taking as she suspected it would be. “I see you possess pluck. I like pluck, but now is not the time for it.”

He reached for the back of her head, but Gwen swatted away his hands. “I said I shall be well.”

“And so you did.” A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “But I require proof. Let me view you standing on your own.” He stood and stepped back to provide her room.

Gwen reached for the rough texture of the tree’s bark to steady herself and pushed upward; however, before her knees could lock in place, she pitched forward into the gentleman’s waiting arms.

“As I suspected,” he said as he lifted her to him. “We must see you to your destination.”

“Oh, no,” she protested, while clinging tightly to his shoulders, fearing if she let go, she would land face first in the snow. “Lady Rivens is expecting a healthy companion, not an invalid.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “You are to serve Lady Rivens?”

“If you would permit me to retrieve my bag, I could provide proof of my placement from the agency.”

“Never mind your bag and the placement papers; at this moment, it is imperative I see you to some place warm. You are shivering, and I admit the cold mixed with my wet clothes are combining to make me uncomfortable.” He lifted her higher in his arms, and Gwendolyn welcomed his warmth. “Then again,” he said with a wicked smile, “perhaps it is your closeness and the sweet smell of lavender that has me experiencing a lightheadedness comparable to your own. Do you suppose we are in some sort of delirium?”

She stiffened in anger at his remark. “You may place me down any time you wish!”

He barked a laugh. “That is the rub, my dear. I enjoy the feel of you in my arms.” He started off in the direction from which he had entered the glade.

“Where do you think you are taking me? Place me down at once!” A revealing heat of what she prayed appeared to be disbelief flooded her cheeks.

“I am taking you to my manor at River’s End,” he insisted. “It is but a quarter mile removed.”

“But I cannot!” She twisted to release herself from his hold, but he clutched her tighter to him.

“Cease your caterwauling,” he ordered before giving her a little shake. “We will have a physician examine your head, and, if all is well, you may begin your duties to her ladyship.”

“My things?” she protested weakly.

“I will send someone for your bag.”

* * *

Jackson Shaw, the Marquess of Rivens, called to his servant, “Fetch Doctor Perkins, at once.” The footman, who had been rushing across the courtyard to assist him, made an immediate turn toward the stables. The door to the manor house remained open, and so he strode through and headed tor the stairs, calling out orders in his wake. “Watkins, have a maid fetch the lady some tea. She is quite chilled.” Realizing he required more information, he paused on the steps. “Which room has been set aside for Lady Rivens’s companion?”

“The blue room, my lord,” Watkins responded.

The woman whose body warmed his sucked in a sharp breath. “You said this was your manor.”

He chuckled easily as he watched several revealing facts dawn upon her lovely countenance. “It is.”

Heat flooded her features. “Then…then…you are—”

“Exactly. Lord Rivens at your disposal. Her ladyship is my grandmother.” He smiled at her and leaned closer to whisper, “Not that I mind holding you close, but I would prefer to do so without an audience.”

To his delight, the woman’s eyes sparked in outrage. “You are incorrigible!”

“Yes, I am.”

Jackson knew she wished to take him to task for his actions, but it was obvious she realized he was her employer. He was not the type of aristocrat who preyed upon his servants, but Jackson could not deny his instant attraction to this particular woman.

At length, he shouldered open the door to the room the maid indicated was to be the lady’s chambers. “Inform my grandmother her new companion has arrived,” he instructed as he sat the woman down upon the bed. He paused to catch his breath as the lady scooted further up the bed, putting distance between them. Something about the act bothered his sense of honor, or, perhaps, it simply called to his sense of mischief.

He looked at her, a full smile curving his lips. “Not even a word of gratitude, my dear? After all, I risked my life to save you from your precarious blunder, likely ruining one of my favorite coats, not to mention my carrying you all the way to this well-furnished room.”

“Naturally, you own my deepest gratitude, my lord.” What appeared to be unease caused her to stiffen. Her shoulders were rigid.

In contrast, Jackson’s smile grew wider. “I fear your statement of appreciation lacks genuine tones, especially when I must prompt its delivery. The words feel insincere.”

Her eyes flashed in derision. “All I can do is express my gratitude, my lord. I possess no money to speak of, and I cannot imagine you require what few pennies there are in my purse as payment for your kindness.” She gestured to the well-established room. “Your purse is obviously deeper than that of one of your grandmother’s employees.”

“My employees,” he purposely corrected, just to irritate her a bit more.

She swallowed hard. The woman, obviously, had not long been accustomed to cowing to her employer. “Pray, what do you expect other than my appreciation?”

He had led her exactly to where he wanted her. “I suppose I must settle for this.”

He leaned toward her. Slowly, but purposely. Providing her time to object, while praying she would not. The lady’s lips parted in outrage, but no words were uttered. His hand caught her jaw and tilted her chin upward. For an elongated moment, their gazes remained locked, and, then, he covered her mouth with his. A soft sigh slipped from her lips, and Jackson felt himself harden. The lady knew absolutely nothing about kissing, but he had no doubt she was teachable, for she did not draw back, but, rather, clung to him. If they had more time, he was more than willing to explore her mouth thoroughly, but the distinct sound of his grandmother’s cane tapping along the passageway had him pulling away and standing upright in what he hoped was an innocent stance, just before Lady Rivens entered the room.

“What are you doing in here, Jackson?” his grandmother asked as she eyed him suspiciously.

“I did not wish to leave the lady alone,” he said obediently, but from the look his grandmother presented him, her ladyship was not fooled by his act. A quick glance at the woman who only moments earlier had been in his arms showed the lady sat with her head down in a subservient position. “The lady,” he gestured to the woman before suddenly realizing how flushed her cheeks appeared, and a bit of pride made its ways to his chest, “hit her head in a fall on the ice. She appeared confused and was not capable of standing on her own.”

His grandmother’s frown deepened. “A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

“I fear I do not understand, Grandmother.”

“Exactly. Now be off with you. Leave Miss Hawthorne to me.” At least, now Jackson knew her name. “I shall watch over the chit until Perkins arrives. You and I both know a gentleman would never purposely tarnish a lady’s reputation.” She gestured to the door with her cane. “Be about your business and permit me to be about mine.”

Jackson turned to the lady to present her a bow of farewell. “Although we were not officially introduced, I beg you to please pardon both my manners and any rough handling you suffered when I attempted to assist you. Welcome to River’s End, Miss Hawthorne.” With that, Jackson strode from the room, but with each step he wished to return and continue Miss Hawthorne’s lessons in intimacy. Never had a woman shaken him so thoroughly as had this country miss, and he was suddenly wondering how he could spend his days in the same house with her without touching her again? And what would her presence do his grandmother’s plans for him to choose a wife at her annual Christmas ball?

Finally, some time soon (depending on how much time I have to write, for I have several pressing deadlines for traditional publishers), I will release a new Pride and Prejudice Vagary. It will be called Mr. Darcy’s Bet. Again, I have provided a WIP chapter from the tale, which begins after Lydia’s marriage to Wickham and Lady Catherine’s call on Elizabeth. It is Bingley and Jane’s wedding day, and Darcy is more determined than ever to marry Elizabeth, but, although she loves him, she is having second thoughts as to whether she is worthy of him. Disclaimer: This chapter has yet to see an editor. Do not scream of typos and the like. LOL!

Chapter One

As days went, Elizabeth Bennet could not name this particular day as anything but pleasant. After all, this was her eldest sister’s wedding day. Jane Bennet had accept Mr. Charles Bingley’s late-coming proposal, and all was right in the world of the Bennets. “At least, Mama is happy. Two daughters married within the span of a few months.” Even so, Elizabeth was eaten up with guilt, for she knew, without the assistance of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, none of her mother’s manipulations would have known the same outcome.

Elizabeth also could not shake the idea one of the reasons the gentleman had acted was because of the accusations she had thrown in his face when Mr. Darcy proposed to her at Rosings Park. She would give anything if she could go back in time to that day when she had righteously accused, “I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only, means of dividing Mr. Bingley and my sister from each other; of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, and the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind.”

She peeked around the corner of the passage where the library was located. Elizabeth had searched all the common rooms in the house and had concluded Mr. Darcy was again holed up in the library, likely avoiding Miss Bingley’s company, as well as hers.

There was a time back in August when they were both at Pemberley that Elizabeth had thought they could be more than passing acquaintances. However, Lydia’s marriage to Mr. Wickham destroyed those hopes. Through her mother’s relations, Elizabeth had learned something of Mr. Darcy’s involvement in bringing her youngest sister and Mr. Darcy’s long-time enemy together. The gentleman had spent a small fortune to bring Mr. Wickham to solvency and to provide the scoundrel an occupation, but, his actions essentially prohibited Mr. Darcy from aligning his family with hers. Darcy had protected her and her sisters from censure, and she was thankful for his honorable actions. Yet, an idea to which she had never given voice still haunted her: she had lost more than her reputation was worth. She had lost the possibility of a great love. There was no way Mr. Darcy would propose to her a second time, for how could he when Mr. Wickham could still harm Miss Darcy with a careless slip of the lip? And she would not permit that to happen, no matter how much such yearned for a different outcome. The gentleman had protected her, and, now, she would protect him.

Setting her shoulders in determination, she made her way along the hall. She prayed not to encounter either of Mr. Bingley’s sisters, for she was to deliver a message to Mr. Darcy, once she found him. A message that was none of the Miss Bingley’s concern. Jane—dear, sweet Jane—had forgiven the ladies for their purposeful separation of their brother from Jane, and, even though, Elizabeth had issued her cautions, Jane had said, “God would expect me to offer my forgiveness. Moreover, how can I think to separate Charles from his sisters?”

Mr. Bingley had been less forgiving: He permitted his sisters’ arrival to occur specifically on yesterday’s date, but had insisted on their leave-taking on the morrow. Elizabeth agreed with her new brother-in-marriage’s ire. She was not one who readily forgave those who harmed the people she held in her heart.

The library door was closed when she reached it. Elizabeth tapped lightly and turned the handle, but the lock did not release. She tapped again. “Mr. Darcy? Are you within?” She prayed she was not interrupting a private encounter between Jane and Mr. Bingley. Over the last month, she had walked in on more than one of their intimate moments. However, when she considered the possibility of Mr. Bingley, a man who rarely read for pleasure, choosing the library for a moment with Jane, or of Mrs. Bennet permitting Jane from her sister’s room, where she prepared for the wedding, Elizabeth knew both an impossibility.

Her father, Mary, and Kitty had remained at Longbourn last evening. Mr. Bennet had entrusted the letter to Elizabeth before she left to join her mother and Jane, who had dined with the Bingleys. “I do not wish your mother to see this,” he had explained.

“What type of business do you have with Mr. Darcy?” she had asked suspiciously.

“Just an offer he made me,” her father responded with less than a full disclosure. “At first, I refused an association with him, for we all found him to be a proud, ill-mannered sort of fellow.” Her father’s words caused Elizabeth to blush. His opinion was based on her earliest opinions of Mr. Darcy, and, although she now knew them inaccurate, she could not speak to the gentleman’s amiability without betraying all she knew of him. “However, after the gentleman convinced me of his honorability, I have had a change of heart. There is no reason not to hitch my wagon to a thoroughbred is there?”

“Mr. Darcy has proven himself,” she said, wishing to defend the man against the general dislike presented him by her family and the neighborhood, as a result of Mr. Wickham’s lies. “I am convinced it was with his influence that Mr. Bingley returned to Netherfield and Jane.”

Her father’s eyebrows rose in question. “Then you think more kindly of the man than you did previously?”

“Aunt and Uncle Gardiner assisted me in seeing Mr. Darcy in a new light,” she had explained. “He was everything cordial when we visited Pemberley.”

Therefore, she knocked a third time and spoke against the wood. “Mr. Darcy, it is I, Elizabeth Bennet. My father asked me to bring you a letter.”

Suddenly the door opened, and she was pulled roughly into the room. The lock was shot behind her.

“Mr. Darcy!” she protested.

“Shush,” he warned, before catching her elbow and guiding her—or rather pushing her toward the far corner of the room.

“What is—” she began, but when his finger touched her lips, Elizabeth forgot her protests. She could feel her cheeks catch fire, as the idea of her kissing that finger took hold. “Why are you hiding in Mr. Bingley’s library?” she demanded, in hushed tones.

“Miss Bingley,” he confessed.

“Surely it cannot be so bad that you must isolate yourself away?” she questioned. Elizabeth’s breath came out in a rough exhalation when she looked into his handsome face. “Is it not possible to explain to the lady you mean a different course for your life?”

He smiled at her. “As you well know, Miss Bingley is not easily diverted. Such is the reason I asked my valet, Mr. Sheffield, to sleep in my quarters last evening. I cannot take the chance. Desperation makes one act from character.”

Elizabeth could only manage an “Oh” before blushing again.

He gestured to a gathering of chairs. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She shook off the idea. “I cannot remain alone in a room with you, especially behind a locked door. My reputation would be ruined, and all your efforts to save it would be for nought.”

“You know about my interference in your youngest sister’s life? I did not think the Gardiners would be so willing to share what I hoped to keep secret.”

Elizabeth hesitated, not knowing quite how to respond. “You must not blame my aunt, Lydia’s thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering Lydia and Mr. Wickham.”

“If you will thank me,” he replied, “let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on,I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owes me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.”

Elizabeth felt herself blush again. It was her greatest wish that he stilled desired her, but the reality was simple: Mr. Darcy could not present his family fortune and his name to woman with a silly mother, a sometimes indolent father, one daughter married to a man constantly in debt, and the husband of the eldest daughter, although a dear friend, still steeped in the “filth” of a man from the world of business. Elizabeth’s recent encounter with Lady Catherine de Bourgh, Mr. Darcy’s aunt, had easily spoken to Elizabeth’s doubts of her worth to a man of Mr. Darcy’s means.

Awkwardly, Mr. Darcy turned away. “Evidently, I have left you in a position where words have escaped you. I must beg your pardon. I never meant to discompose you. I thought perhaps after you refused to agree with my aunt’s demand for you to deny me, that hope still lived.”

“I told Lady Catherine I would permit no one to dictate to me to whom I presented my hand.” She studied his stance. Countless memories stood between them. Elizabeth loved him, but she loved him too much to bring harm to his door. Regret squeezed her heart hard. “The wedding begins in an hour. I sought you out because my father asked me to deliver a message to you. It was late when I arrived at Netherfield last evening. I was told you had retired.”

His eyes narrowed. “A letter from Mr. Bennet?”

She reached into her reticule and extracted the folded over letter. Handing it to him, she asked, “What business do you have with my father?”

Mr. Darcy accepted the letter, staring at his name upon the foolscap. “I am uncertain beyond his providing me and Mr. Gardiner with a list of Mr. Wickham’s debts in Lambton. Perhaps it is an accounting of what he paid out to the various merchants.”

She did not believe him, for her father had mentioned that Mr. Darcy had contacted him, but she was not in a position to accuse him of something nefarious. “Then Mr. Bennet knew of your involvement in the matter?” she questioned. Elizabeth prayed he would not lie to her again.

He shook off the idea. “Not initially, but it is possible Mr. Gardiner took your father into his confidence.”

“Are you going to read it?” she asked.

“I will when there is time for me to study the contents. I heard the carriages coming up from the stable. Bingley will be searching for us, and, as you said, we cannot be found together.”

* * *

God, he wished someone would shake some sense into Elizabeth Bennet. Why could she not see they were perfect for each other? When he first opened the library door to pull her inside, Darcy had come within an inch of abandoning his customary good sense and, instead, gathering her into his arms to kiss her into submission. She would have regretted his actions, but he would not. From that first night after the Meryton Assembly, and every night since, he had dreamed of kissing her as she had never been kissed previously.

“Did Miss Elizabeth do something to anger you?” Bingley asked as they stood near the altar waiting for the ceremony to begin.

“Why would you think so?” Darcy asked in tones he prayed sounded of nonchalance.

“You were scowling when the two of you exited the house,” Bingley explained. “I pray you are not arguing again. You appeared on much better terms when we were all in Derbyshire together.”

“Nothing of the sort. Just a letter of business I received,” Darcy assured.

“I did not hear a rider,” Bingley observed.

Darcy slapped his friend on the back in a gesture of companionship. “And why should you? You are marrying the delectable Miss Bennet. in less than a half hour.”

“She is an angel.” Bingley’s smile widened, but it quickly disappeared, when his friend noticed the entrance of his sisters. “Duty calls,” he said and moved off to deal with the ladies’ need for attention.

Left alone for a few minutes, Darcy replayed Mr. Bennet’s letter in his head. After Lady Catherine had issued her orders and departed in a huff, without knowing satisfaction, Darcy had secretly sent Mr. Bennet a message and requested a private meeting with the man, where Darcy had laid his heart on the line. Elizabeth’s father had remained skeptical, but he had agreed to consider what Darcy had shared and would inform him of Bennet’s intention to extend or deny Darcy’s request to pursue Elizabeth as his wife.

He glanced up from his musings to view her coming toward him, and his heart sang its song of love and devotion. “Is it time?” he asked when she took her place beside him, for they were to stand up with Bingley and Miss Bennet during the ceremony.

“Mama agrees, so here I am,” she said with a grin. “In truth, I think she means to give Jane the talk regarding what to expect on the wedding night. Mrs. Bennet does not know Mrs. Gardiner has already spoken to each of us.”

Darcy grinned. Whether the lady realized it or not, Elizabeth Bennet considered him one of her closest confidants, for she spoke to him on a level not afforded indifferent acquaintances. “May I say you look lovely?” he whispered.

Her brows drew together in disapproval. “Your tone says you would place an addendum to the compliment.”

He hesitated before answering. “I think you would be more lovely, if such were possible, if you were wearing jewels in your hair, rather than the flowers.”

Everyone’s attention turned to the back of the church—everyone’s but his. From the corner of his eye, he noted Mrs. Bennet scampered up the aisle to assume a place by her husband on the front pew. Miss Bennet paused at the head of the aisle, the lady’s attention on Bingley as she approached.

“Is she not beautiful?” Elizabeth murmured.

Darcy’s eyes, however, remained on Elizabeth. “Not as exquisite as you,” he said in hushed tones.

She glanced up at him, displeasure crossing her expression.

Yet, before she could react, Darcy took the ultimate leap of faith. “When we marry, would you prefer a large wedding or a more private affair?”

“Neither,” she hissed. Embarrassment, or perhaps it was anger, colored her cheeks.

“You would prefer one comparable to the future Mrs. Bingley?” he asked in what he hoped sounded of innocence. Convincing Elizabeth to agree with him would take all his skills of negotiations.

“We are not marrying, large, small, or—” Her voice increased in volume. “Or—”

“Or would you prefer to leave for Gretna Green? Is a marriage over the anvil more to your liking?”

“Enough, Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed in a voice and tone rarely used in a church.

“Elizabeth Bennet!” her mother warned from her position on the pew. “This is not your day.”

Elizabeth nodded her apologies, but Darcy ignored everyone but the woman he loved. “Autumn has already made itself known. If you hold no objections, I would prefer we pronounced our vows before Christmastide. You have not lived until you celebrate Christmas at Pemberley.”

She spun around to face him. Pointing her finger at him, as if he was a misbehaving child, she enunciated each of her words slowly. “I once told you I would not marry you even if you were the last man in the world.”

“But we both know you did not mean those words. You have had a change of heart. No absolutes!”

“I am not marrying you, sir,” she growled.

Darcy thought her adorable when she was so angry that she had lost her ability to reason. “Never? Let us ask your mother,” he said with a smile.

“You would not dare.” Elizabeth no longer spoke in soft tones.

“Before I do, answer me this: Are you set against me? Completely set against me?”

“Not if we were the last two people on earth,” she said with a stomp of her foot to emphasize her irritation.

“We would require at least one more person,” he continued logically. “To witness the joining.” He thought it exhilarating to watch the passion flowing through his Elizabeth when she was angry. Just imagine how it will be when we are alone together, he cautioned his heart. “Simply explain what obstacles remain to prevent us from marrying.”

She shot a glance to the congregation, who was watching their interactions with great interest. Darcy refused to look, knowing his daring would die if he encountered a scowl upon her father’s face, or those of her neighbors. “You know my reasons without my pronouncing them aloud.”

Off to the side, he heard Miss Bingley announce, “I knew the chit did not have the brains of a slug.”

“Mr. Bennet,” Darcy called out, but his eyes remained on Elizabeth. “Do I have your permission to marry Miss Elizabeth?”

Her father’s voice held his amusement. “As I said, son, you must convince Lizzy on your own.”

“Understood, sir. But you hold no objections?”

“Not if Elizabeth is happy.”

Mrs. Bennet shot to her feet, finally comprehending what was happening. “Elizabeth Bennet, you give Mr. Darcy your assent this very moment.”

Bingley stepped up beside him. “In case none of you have noticed, this is my and Miss Bennet’s wedding day, not a battlefield.”

“All this is Mr. Darcy’s fault,” Elizabeth accused, refusing to abandon her anger.

Bingley growled, “I do not care for faults. All I care about is my Jane and our pronouncing our vows. I swear one more interruption, and I will personally escort you both outside.”

“I apologize, Bingley,” Darcy said in contrition.

“I will be silent,” Elizabeth said obediently.

Bingley leaned closer to speak to Elizabeth without an audience. “You do realize how stubborn Darcy can be when he sets his mind to a task. It might be best if you offered your consent now. It would please both Jane and me to see the two of you happy.”

Darcy noted how Elizabeth stiffened in denial. “I am determined I will not marry him. Some find my stubbornness endearing.”

“My money is on Mr. Darcy,” Colonel Forster called out.

“Then you will lose, Colonel,” Elizabeth said stubbornly. “I remain adamant.”

Sir William announced, “Those who wish to place a bet, see me outside after the ceremony. For now, Mr. Bingley wishes to claim his bride.”

Before the focus switched away from him and Elizabeth, Darcy called to the man, “Put me down for a hundred pounds. I mean to prove that I possess more resolve than does Miss Elizabeth.”

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The Etiquette of “Visiting” and How Jane Austen Used It as a Plot Device

Posted on April 26, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

In the 1800s, morning calls or visiting upon a household developed a certain protocol, and those who broke protocol were often shunned. First a calling card was presented to the household’s servant. It was common for those who came to London for the Season to drive about with a footman in tow to present one’s cards to acquaintances. Do you recall Mrs. Jennings doing so in Sense and Sensibility? “The morning was chiefly spent in leaving cards at the houses of Mrs. Jennings’s acquaintance to inform them of her being in town.”

One would leave three cards with the servant: one from the lady for the house’s mistress; one from the caller’s husband for the house’s mistress and another for the house’s master. Displaying cards of those who had called was commonplace. It gave one social status to display cards from those of the nobility. In Persuasion, the Elliots took care to display “…the cards of the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple and the Hon. Miss Carteret, to be arranged where they might be most visible.”

If one came without a card, he may receive a snub. From her drawing room on the second floor, the house’s mistress could see who called upon her home, and she could make a decision whether to receive the caller or not. In Northanger Abbey, Catherine Morland calls on Miss Tilney and is sent packing. “She reached the house without any impediment, looked at the number and inquired for Miss Tilney. The man believed Miss Tilney to be at home, but was not quite certain. Would she be pleased to send up her name? She gave her card. In a few minutes, the servant returned, and with a look which did not quite confirm his words, said he had been mistaken, for she was walked out.”

Gentlemen did make calls, but they did not receive them from ladies. It would be a major breech in etiquette. Conversation remained light during the call, and one did not stay more than a quarter hour. One called between three and four in the afternoon if the house’s mistress was a casual acquaintance: Between four and five for a better acquaintance, and between five and six for a good friend. NO ONE called before one in the afternoon.

Visiting with one’s neighbors and acquaintances was a popular activity for those in the country and in Town. It was a common means to social mobility. To being accepted by those above one’s social status. Visiting is a wonderful plot device in all of Jane Austen’s novels. Remember that Austen wrote of what she experienced. So, when in Pride and Prejudice is “visiting” an important plot ploy? Notice how key points in the story pivot around the event of a “visit” or an “invitation.”

How about Mrs. Bennet’s disappointment at not having Mr. Bingley’s acquaintance? “We are not in a way to know what Mr. Bingley likes,’ said her mother resentfully. ‘Since we are not to visit.’”

Mr. Bennet pleases his wife when he says, “It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now.”

Miss Bingley asks Jane Bennet for an evening at Netherfield by sending this message: “My Dear Friend: If you are not so compassionate as to dine today with Louisa and me, we shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives; for a whole day’s tete-a-tete between two women can never end without quarrel. Come as soon as you can on receipt of this. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam feels “at home” at Hunsford and calls often. “Colonel Fitzwilliam had called at the Parsonage more than once during the time, but Mr. Darcy they had only seen at church. The invitations was accepted, of course, and at a proper hour, they joined the part in Lady Catherine’s drawing room.”

Mrs. Gardiner writes of Mr. Darcy’s unexpected call at Gracechurch Street. “On the very day of my coming home from Longbourn, you uncle had a most unexpected visitor. Mr. Darcy called, and was shut up with him several hours.”

Mr. Collins glories in his invitation from Lady Catherine De Bourgh. “Mr. Collins’s triumph, in consequence of this invitation, was complete. The power of displaying the grandeur of his patroness to his wondering visitors, and of letting them see her civility toward himself and his wife was exactly what he had wished for; and that an opportunity of doing it should be given so soon, was such an instance of Lady Catherine’s condescension, as he knew not how to admire enough.”

The Bennet sisters learn of the militia’s coming to Meryton. “Their visits to Mrs Phillips were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers’ names and connections.”

Darcy brings Georgiana to Lambton to visit with Elizabeth Bennet. “Elizabeth had settled it that Mr Darcy would bring his sister to visit her the very day after her reaching Pemberley, and was, consequently, resolved not to be out of sight of the inn the whole of that morning. But her conclusion was false; for on the very morning after their arrival at Lambton these visitors came.”

Elizabeth Bennet deflects Miss Binley’s barbs while returning Georgiana’s call. “In this room they were received by Miss Darcy, who was sitting there with Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in London.”

Elizabeth arrives at Netherfield to attend the ailing Jane Bennet. “Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her immediately, and Jane, who had only been withheld by the fear of giving alarm or inconvenience from expressing in her note how much she longed for such a visit, was delighted at her entrance.”

Mr. Collins invites himself to Longbourn. “If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18^th, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday sennight following, which I can do without any inconvenience…”

Jane explains to Elizabeth how Caroline Bingley has snubbed her. “Caroline did not return my visit till yesterday; and not a note, not a line, did I receive in the meantime.”

The Bennets and the Lucases hold a post mortem of the Meryton Assembly. “That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely necessary, and the morning after the assembly brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.”

The Gardiners spend Christmastide at Longbourn. “On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet had the pleasure of receiving her brother and his wife, who came, as usual, to spend the Christmas at Longbourn.”

Lady Catherine encourages Elizabeth to extend her stay at Hunsford. “Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came.”

Lady Catherine barges in on the Longbourn household. “They both set off, and the conjectures of the remaining three continued, though with little satisfaction till the door was thrown open and their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine De Bourgh.”

Mr. Bennet reluctantly agrees to accept the unrepentant Lydia into his home, but his wife relishes in having a married daughter. “But Jane and Elizabeth, who agreed in wishing, for the sake of their sister’s feelings and consequence, that she should be noticed on her marriage by her parents, urged him so earnestly, yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive her and her husband at Longbourn as soon as they were married, that he was prevailed on to think as they thought and act as they wished. And their mother had the satisfaction of knowing that she should be able to show her married daughter in the neighborhood, before she was banished to the North.”

Bingley returns to Longbourn. “Mr Bingley arrived. Mrs Bennet, through the assistance of servants, contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety and fretfulness on her side might be as long as it could. She counted the days that must intervene before their invitation could be sent–hopeless of seeing him before. But on the third morning after his arrival in Hertfordshire she saw him, from her dressing-room window, enter the paddock and ride toward the house.”

Are there other scenes in Pride and Prejudice or any of Austen’s novels that are pivotal moments and are associated with “visits”? I can think of several dozen without much effort. How about you?

Posted in British history, Jane Austen, Regency era, writing | Tagged etiquette, Jane Austen, Morning Calls, Pride and Prejudice, Regina Jeffers, writing | 7 Comments

George Wickham: How Jane Austen Masterfully Uses a Minor Character to Drive the Main Plot

Posted on April 22, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

How a Minor Character Controls the Story’s Action: Jane Austen’s Use of George Wickham

On Monday, I interviewed our favorite Austen bad boy, Mr. George Wickham. Actually, I held a celebrity intervention, but as an afterthought to that momentous event, I thought we might take a closer look at George Wickham’s importance to the Pride and Prejudice’s plot. For a minor character, with few lines and little description, the action of Pride and Prejudice greatly rests on the scoundrel’s shoulders.

What do we know of George Wickham? There is much in Jane Austen’s introduction of Mr. Wickham.

But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with an officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny, concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger’s air, all wondered who he could be, and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say, had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty — a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation — a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, when they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat — a salutation, which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. What could be the meaning of it? — It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.

Elizabeth Bennet’s observation lays the basis for her believing Mr. Wickham’s lies about Mr. Darcy. What we do not see in this passage is what Mr. Wickham notes during the exchange. Some scholars believe that Wickham is a good “reader” of Darcy’s notice of Elizabeth Bennet, and that the man sets his sights on Elizabeth as part of his revenge on Darcy. At a minimum, Wickham, as Darcy’s childhood friend, would recognize how Darcy would react to Wickham’s presence. Poor Darcy operates within a strict code of behavior, and Wickham holds no scruples in manipulating his former friend.

Wickham is very much a scoundrel and a cad. He is perceptive. Likely, he has heard of Darcy’s snub of Elizabeth at the Meryton Assembly. It was common knowledge among several families in the neighborhood. Such gossip would provide Wickham with the opportunity to build on the general dislike of Mr. Darcy’s manners by coloring Darcy’s actions. Wickham is looking for a rich wife, and gossip is important to him in that cause. He will use whatever he discovers to his benefit.

Mr. Denny confirms that Wickham has spoken ill of Darcy to the regiment when he says, I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here.

One must notice how Wickham’s attacks on Darcy’s reputation increase after the Netherfield Ball. First, Darcy has withdrawn, and Mr. Wickham no longer fears that anyone will “correct” his insinuations. Secondly, it is likely that Denny and the other officers have informed Wickham of Darcy’s attentions to Elizabeth at the ball. Because Darcy has danced with no other female from Hertfordshire, he has labeled Elizabeth as someone he admires. Wickham would understand this fact.

Please recall it is Wickham who tells Elizabeth that Darcy will marry his cousin Anne De Bourgh, an assumption of Lady Catherine’s, but never a possibility in Darcy’s mind. Instead of listening to what Mr. Wickham does not say, Elizabeth concentrates on the irony of Miss Bingley’s ill-fated pursuit of Mr. Darcy.

He tells her that he is an expert on Mr. Darcy. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head myself – for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy. Elizabeth’s unexpected obsession with Mr. Darcy leads her to believe Mr. Wickham’s falsehoods. The man later reinforces her prejudices when Austen says, And in his manner of bidding her adieu, wishing her every enjoyment, reminding her of what she was to expect in Lady Catherine De Bourgh, and trusting their opinion of her – their opinion of every body – would always coincide, there was a solicitude, an interest which she felt must ever attach her to him with a most sincere regard. Notice this is right before Darcy and Elizabeth reunite and Darcy’s disastrous first proposal.

After her return from Rosings and Mr. Darcy’s letter, Elizabeth has a better understanding of Mr. Wickham’s character, and she baits him. However, Mr. Wickham is not easily swayed from his goal of destroying Mr. Darcy. “You, who so well know my feelings towards Mr. Darcy, will readily comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume even the appearance of what is right…I only fear that the sort of cautiousness, to which you, I imagine, have been alluding, is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good opinion and judgment he stands much in awe. His fear of her, has always operated, I know, when they were together, and a good deal is to be imputed to his wish of forwarding the match with Miss De Bourgh, which I am certain he has very much at heart.” Obviously, Elizabeth has first hand knowledge that Darcy does not intend to marry his cousin Anne. He has proposed to Elizabeth and has been refused.

Even after Wickham marries Lydia and returns to Longbourn, he does not abandon his tale. Did you go by the village of Kympton? I mention it because it is the living, which I ought to have had. A most delightful place! Excellent parsonage house! It would have suited me in every respect.

So, I ask dear readers what would Pride and Prejudice be without George Wickham’s manipulations? A bland short story? Mr. Wickham is the impetus behind Elizabeth’s continued blindness regarding Mr. Darcy’s true character; the designer of a carefully constructed “revenge” plan that disrupts the lives of each of the story’s families; a scoundrel and a cad; a master manipulator. George Wickham is the man we love to hate.

Posted in Great Britain, Jane Austen, language choices, Living in the Regency, Regency era, word play, writing | Tagged book excerpts, excerpts, Jane Austen, minor characters, plot twists, Pride and Prejudice, Vagary, Variations | 3 Comments

The Rice Portrait of Jane Austen? a Guest Post from Alexa Adams

Posted on April 10, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on January 25, 2019. Enjoy!

The “Rice Portrait” by Humphry, claimed to be Jane Austen ca. 1790-1810 ~ public domain ~ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rice_portrait#/media/File:RicePortrait.jpg

How clearly I recall writing this blog post in March of 2011. I was six months pregnant with my daughter and spent the bulk of the morning at a lab getting my second glucose test for gestational diabetes. I whiled away the hungry hours devouring the new evidence that Jane Odiwe, author, artist, and friend, had brought to my attention concerning the authenticity of the Rice portrait.

For decades, experts have debated whether the portrait is or is not of Jane Austen, the crux of the naysayers’ argument relying on both the date of the portrait and a lack of proof of provenance. Would Jane Austen have been young enough to be the sitter, and why, if it is Austen, is there no mention of the portrait by her descendants for almost 100 years after it was painted? Some of the biggest names in Austen scholarship stand on opposite sides of the fence on this issue, but I have always wanted so very much to believe it is a portrait of Jane. My complete bias now on the table, you can imagine my excitement (possibly aided by glucose overload – turns out I did have GD) that early spring morning in 2011, as I delightedly detailed the history of the controversy and presented the new evidence that the painter was Ozias Humphry and not Johan Zoffany, as previously believed. I was too busy with new parenthood to properly follow up a few years later when new, high image photographs revealed a date on the canvas of seventeen eighty something (Claudia Johnson had already said it was proof of authenticity in this article, so what more could I really add, anyway?). Happy to live in a world where I knew just what my favorite author looked like, I proceeded through the next several years content the matter was closed, even as the National Portrait Gallery continued to stubbornly refuse to authenticate the portrait. So it was with chagrin and abject disappointment that I read on another March morning in 2017 the Financial Times article that discredited the portrait. My emotions were something like Elizabeth Bennet’s in reaction to Mr. Darcy’s letter: at first I refused to believe it, but gradually the truth took hold. There was a stamp on the back of the Rice portrait that proved the canvass had to be made after 1800. I rushed over www.janeaustenriceportrait.com, where the Rice family keeps the world informed about their quest to authenticate the portrait, and saw their inability to reply to this blow with dismay. It was like a dear friend had died.

Since that day, I have come to accept that I love the portrait regardless of the sitter’s identity. It can still represent my idealized image of who Austen was, even if it isn’t actually her. Then yesterday I read this headline from The Guardian: Jane Austen? Family says note establishes disputed portrait’s identity. By the time I reached the end of the article, hope had blossomed anew.

Even without any relevance to the Rice portrait controversy, the discovery of a previously unknown note by Fanny Caroline Lefroy, Austen’s great-niece, would create buzz in the Janeite community, but the fact that this note explicitly establishes the provenance of the Rice Portrait makes it a bombshell. The handwriting matches Lefroy’s, of which there are many existent examples. It was somehow, seemingly miraculously, suddenly found in Austen’s writing desk.

Now, some of this feels just a bit too convenient. However was the note overlooked for so long? I’d like to see testing done on the paper to establish its age. There is a lot of information missing, but nevertheless, the claim is absolutely tantalizing. It certainly calls into question the dating of the stamp. Another explanation will need to be provided for its existence, but if it can be rationally accounted for, pressure for the National Gallery to finally recognize the portrait (and hopefully acquire it, saving it from its current fate in a storage locker) will certainly increase. What that would do to the value of the beloved but inadequate portrait by Cassandra Austen, currently the only verified portrait of her face, is an interesting question, as well as how that consideration might influence the NPG’s position.

Also worth noting is that the authentication of the Rice portrait may have implications for another, unverified portrait, the knowledge of which is confined to a photograph in a Christie’s catalog from an estate sale at Godmersham Park in 1983, its current whereabouts being unknown. You can read more about it in that original blog post from 2011, but the long and short of it is is that this could be a portrait of the Austen family. If so, Jane is the very young girl, positioned third from the left. Bears something of a resemblance to the girl in the Rice portrait, doesn’t she?

You can see a much better image of the restored Rice portrait at the family’s website: http://www.janeaustenriceportrait.com/latest-news/4581084461. It’s gorgeous!

Posted in British history, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Guest Post, history, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, real life tales, Regency era, Regency personalities, research | Tagged Alexa Adams, Georgian England, guest post, Jane Austen, real life tales, Regency Era, research, Rice portrait | Comments Off

Baptism and Christenings in the Regency Period + a Giveaway of “Lady Chandler’s Sister”

Posted on April 5, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

Today, we think of the recording of a birth as automatic. At most hospitals, the staff record such details, and they are passed on to the proper authorities. The birth announcement appears in the local newspaper usually within a week of the actual birth. This was not so for the Regency. Birth announcements were not recorded during the Regency Era. Births were not always recorded in the parish registers. Generally, only the Baptism/Christening was recorded. Some clergymen listed the child’s age or birth date when recording the baptism, but most did not. Usually the child had to be breathing to be baptised and given a name for the parish records, but that was not an “absolute” in the practice of recording births. [Note! Today the terms (baptism and christening) are interchangeable by many. A Christening is a naming, but the church believes baptism is to save the soul of the infant and to enroll him in the church of believers. The secular name is incidental and just for records.]

According to Nancy Mayer Regency Researcher, “Most of the evidence upon which today’s perceptions of the era are founded is faulty. St Martin-in-the-Fields was probably the most fastidious of the parishes in those days, with the sextons recording in minute detail, everything about those they buried – and that included stillborns, abortives, infants (those who’d lived to draw breath), etc., etc. Name, date of birth, date of death, address, sex, etc., etc. No detail was missed. But even in this parish there were anomalies based on the structure of burial fees – abortives were the cheapest burials. Chrisom’s came next. Stillborns were the third cheapest, and from there, the fees increased the longer the individual lived. So many infants who had lived through the first crucial week only to succumb to the infections that so beset newborns, were buried as stillborns because the family could not or did not want to pay the higher fees. But even with the stillborns and the Chrisoms, the father’s name was recorded by the sextons. It was not until well after the Regency that the mother’s name was included.” Although it rarely happened, in reality, the parents did not need to present for the baptism.

No ecclesiastical law forbid the baptism of a stillborn child. It was the expense of doing so that prevented many from recognizing their child’s existence.

I understand the confusion and grief following the lost of a child for I lost two children before I had my son. It bothered me deeply not to have access to the ones I lost early on. I could not shake the idea that it would never have a name or a place in our family’s recorded history. However, many in the early 19th Century were developing what we now associate with the British public as a whole: the stiff upper lip. Grief was not shown in public.

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Other parishes were not as meticulous as St Martin-in-the-Fields. Generally, the person requesting the recording of the birth was at the “mercy” of the clergyman overseeing the parish. The clergyman’s opinions or those of the aristocrat providing his living could differ greatly from parish to parish. Some clergy would look poorly upon an abortive situation. An aristocrat might privately have a stillborn child baptised, but a public announcement of such would not occur. The recording of a child’s birth, or the lack thereof, is a major plot plot point in Book 2 of my Twins’ Trilogy, The Earl Claims His Comfort. Any “public” records, such as Debrett’s The New Peerage, would simply include the line stillborn daughter or stillborn son.

41VA23GR86L We find an example of such in Chapter 1 of Jane Austen’s Persuasion, Sir Walter Elliot picks up the Baronetage to read of his family history, “”ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH-HALL.
“Walter Elliot, born March 1, 1760, married, July 15, 1784, Elizabeth, daughter of James Stevenson, Esq. of South Park, in the county of Gloucester; by which lady (who died 1800) he has issue Elizabeth, born June 1, 1785; Anne, born August 9, 1787; a still-born son, Nov. 5, 1789; Mary, born Nov. 20, 1791.”

Many times the private family records, such as the family Bible, contained the name of the stillborn child. Parish records and private records did not always hold the same details. Often, especially in the male line, one might find two male offsprings with the same name in a private record, but the names of the children were listed as several years apart – the first one died at birth or shortly thereafter.

As with everything else, there were those members of the clergy who accepted payment to record stillborns. Parents might, for example, argue that the Bible does not speak to forbidding the naming of stillborns. Babies could be baptised at home by any member of the household as long as water was used and the child was baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. This was a valid baptism in most cases.

431184283c0ccbfe915e11bf06d3477a Anciently, a chrisom, or “chrisom-cloth,” was the face-cloth, or piece of linen laid over a child’s head when he or she was baptised or christened. Originally, the purpose of the chrisom-cloth was to keep the chrism, a consecrated oil, from accidentally rubbing off. With time, the word’s meaning changed, to that of a white mantle thrown over the whole infant at the time of baptism. The term has come to refer to a child who died within a month after its baptism—so called for the chrisom cloth that was used as a shroud for it. Additionally, in London’s Bills of Mortality, the term chrisom was used to refer to infants who died within a month after being born. (Chrisom)

ATOHCrop2 In A Touch of Honor, Book 8 of the Realm Series, I used a different plot point associated with the recording of births and deaths. In that book, Lady Satiné Swenton dies in a terrible accident and the child she carried is also lost. The surgeon tending the body asks Lord Swenton if he wishes to have the stillborn buried with his mother. The mother and stillborn infant could be buried together as it was with Princess Charlotte’s child. In that case the child was not named. However, in this time, the father could insist on having the child listed in the death register and could have a name etched in the grave marker to recognize publicly the birth. The woman’s husband could have his wife and child buried in a private cemetery and act as he thought best for his family.

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The Church of England provides this tutorial for the ceremony:

What Happens at a christening?

At a christening a child is baptized with water. This is the heart of a christening. There are several moments in the service which have a special meaning too. Follow each step to see what happens.

“…I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Welcome

The vicar will welcome everyone and especially the child who will be christened and their family. There will be a Bible reading, and the vicar will also talk about what a christening means.

The promises

You and the godparents will make some important promises for your child in the service. You can see the full order of service here. Everyone promises to continue supporting the child from this moment.

The vicar says: “…People of God will you welcome this child and uphold them in their new life in Christ?”

Everyone present says: “…With the help of God, we will.”

The sign

Often, this is the point in the service when parents and godparents will be invited to come out to stand at the front with the child. In many churches, a special oil may be used to make the sign of a cross on your child’s forehead. It’s a significant moment, which marks your child as belonging to God.

The vicar will say: “…Christ claims you as his own. Receive the sign of the cross.”

The water

Water which is blessed in the church’s font will be poured over your child’s head by the vicar. This is your child’s baptism. It’s a sign of a new beginning and becoming a part of God’s family.

The vicar says: “…I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Prayers and welcome

The vicar, or perhaps even someone else from the church, will pray for the child and for all those who will support them in their path of faith. Everyone present welcomes the child into the family of the church with words given in the service.

A candle

A candle will be given to the child at the end of the service.

The vicar says: “…Shine as a light in the world to the glory of God.”

Godparents play a special role in the ceremony and in the child’s life. The godparents were the ones to take the child to church, make the vows in his/her name, and say the name of the child for all the world to know. The godmother customarily holds the child during the ceremony. The child can be dipped into the baptismal font–first one side and then the other, but often water was poured on his head. Occasionally water was just sprinkled on or a damp cloth is used. A cross is made with oil on the baby’s head to anoint the child. The rite in the Book of Common prayer of the day was used.

A female child was to have two female and one male godparent or sponsor, while a male child was to have two male and one female godparent or sponsor. Although they could serve the role, godparents were NOT automatically the child’s legal guardian of the child(ren) with the passing of a parent(s). A will would designate the legal guardian in such a scenario.

During the Regency and beyond, royalty were often asked to be godparents to the children of peers, such as dukes or men who had positions at Court or were at Court often or were ranking members of Parliament. Quite often the royal godparents employed proxy stand-ins. When the child is 12 years of age, he/she would be confirmed; he/she would renew the promises made at his/her baptism for himself/herself.

You might wish to check out:

10 Ways Christening Has Changed

LCS eBook Cover-01

An impressive ending to the beautifully crafted Twins’ Trilogy – Starr’s ***** Romance Reviews

Love. Power. Intrigue. Betrayal. All play their parts in this fitting conclusion to a captivating, romantic suspense trio. – Bella Graves, Author & Reviewer

Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PVT5GQ9/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=lady+chandler%27s+sister&qid=1553390378&s=gateway&sr=8-2

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1091376581/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=lady+chandler%27s+sister&qid=1553430979&s=gateway&sr=8-2

Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/lady-chandler-s-sister

Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1131002644?ean=2940161421314

NOTE: BEGINNING MONDAY, MARCH 25, BLACK OPAL BOOKS PUT ANGEL COMES TO THE DEVIL’S KEEP AND THE EARL CLAIMS HIS COMFORT ON SALE ALSO.

Now for the Giveaway!!! I have two eBook copies of Lady Chandler’s Sister available to those who comment below.

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