Alexa Adams shared this post with our followers on Austen Authors in June 2016. I thought it a worthy piece to share with you.
David Bamber ar Mr. Collins, 1995
“My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world of your excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your understanding, but permit me to say that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy; for give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom — provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself.”
Ah, Mr. Collins: Austen’s biggest buffoon. Her most famous clergyman does not reflect well on his profession. Based on Pride and Prejudice alone, it would be easy to conclude Austen thought rather poorly of churchmen. After all, the only character who even considers entering the church is Mr. Wickham. Yet in her other novels she provides several examples of excellence in the calling. Nearly half her heroes are clergymen, and Henry Tilney, Edward Ferrars, and Edmund Bertram are all precisely what one would wish for in a spiritual guide: sincere, compassionate, and capable. In them Austen shows us what a good parish rector ought to be. In contrast, Mr. Collins and Mr. Elton are revealed as thoroughly undeserving of their preferment, a situation that was all too common in her time.
Dan Stevens as Edward Ferrars, 2008
A man of genteel birth but not enough income to support himself had three options in the Regency world: he could join the military, study law, or take orders. It also happened to be a time in which the duties of the parish rector were being hotly debated. At issue was the custom of pluralism, or the holding of more than one living at a time. A living was the assignment (usually gifted) of a parish to a rector, which included a house and annual salary. There was a shortage of livings, which were typically held for life or until retirement, and the salaries attached to them were often not enough to live upon. About 1/5th of gentlemen in orders would spend their lives as poorly paid curates, while those that held livings often had more than one and still struggled to support their families.* As the daughter of a clergyman and the sister to two more, it is no wonder that Austen voiced her opinion on the subject in her novels.
From left to right: George Austen (Jane’s father), ca 1764, his eldest son James, ca 1795, and his 4th son Henry, ca 1820. All artists unknown.
Jane Austen’s father held two livings, as did her eldest brother upon inheriting them. So do Mr. Morland in Northanger Abbey and Edmund Bertram in Mansfield Park. While offering no criticism of pluralism, she also clearly sympathizes with the plight of the curate, as illustrated in the struggles of Charles Hayter in Persuasion and, potentially, Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility. However, it is only in Mansfield Park that she explicitly develops the subject. Here Edmund acts as defender of the clergy, while Mary Crawford makes her case against it.
At length, after a short pause, Miss Crawford began with, “So you are to be a clergyman, Mr. Bertram. This is rather a surprise to me.”
“Why should it surprise you? You must suppose me designed for some profession, and might perceive that I am neither a lawyer, nor a soldier, nor a sailor.”
“Very true; but, in short, it had not occurred to me. And you know there is generally an uncle or a grandfather to leave a fortune to the second son.”
“A very praiseworthy practice,” said Edmund, “but not quite universal. I am one of the exceptions, and beingone, must do something for myself.”
Blake Ritson as Edmund Bertram, 2007
“But why are you to be a clergyman? I thought that was always the lot of the youngest, where there were many to chuse before him.”
“Do you think the church itself never chosen, then?”
“Never is a black word. But yes, in the never of conversation, which means not very often, I do think it. For what is to be done in the church? Men love to distinguish themselves, and in either of the other lines distinction may be gained, but not in the church. A clergyman is nothing.”
“The nothing of conversation has its gradations, I hope, as well as the never. A clergyman cannot be high in state or fashion. He must not head mobs, or set the ton in dress. But I cannot call that situation nothing which has the charge of all that is of the first importance to mankind, individually or collectively considered, temporally and eternally, which has the guardianship of religion and morals, and consequently of the manners which result from their influence. No one here can call the office nothing. If the man who holds it is so, it is by the neglect of his duty, by foregoing its just importance, and stepping out of his place to appear what he ought not to appear.”
“You assign greater consequence to the clergyman than one has been used to hear given, or than I can quite comprehend. One does not see much of this influence and importance in society, and how can it be acquired where they are so seldom seen themselves? How can two sermons a week, even supposing them worth hearing, supposing the preacher to have the sense to prefer Blair’s to his own, do all that you speak of? govern the conduct and fashion the manners of a large congregation for the rest of the week? One scarcely sees a clergyman out of his pulpit.”
J.J. Field as Henry Tilney, 2007
Interestingly, the worldly Mary is only restating the very criticisms that the bishops of the English church had been leveling at their underlings for years. If a rector held a plurality of livings and did not live in a parish, he might only see its members on Sundays, and then only on those when the curate wasn’t performing the honors. How can a clergyman be a shepherd to his flock if he never sees it? Concerns for clerical non-residence led to the Residency Act of 1803, which required clergymen to obtain a license in order to hold the living of a parish in which they did not live. The act was amended in 1809 and 1810 to assist bishops in keeping track of resident and non-resident clergy and further distinguishing between those who performed Sunday services and those who did not. Acceptable explanations for holding a plurality of livings included the parsonage being unlivable, the salary of a parish being inadequate to live upon, or the ill-health of the clergyman.* Sense and Sensibility provides examples of the first two cases: the parsonage at Delaford is uninhabitable until Colonel Brandon institutes repairs upon it, and the salary, at only 200 pounds a year, is not enough to support a family. Thus the Colonel estimates how the living might be improved, and promises further patronage (like using his influence to procure Edward an additional living). It is only Mrs. Ferrars’ gift of 10,000 pounds that provides Edward the means to marry Elinor Dashwood.
In Persuasion we have an example in Dr. Shirley, Rector of Uppercross, of how ill-health might permit non-residency. Hopes for the marriage of Charles Hayter and Henrietta Musgrove depend upon the former’s attainment of a living, and the young couple rest their best hopes on Dr. Shirley being so infirm that he will hire Charles as his curate and pay him unusually well. Henrietta even hopes he will be accommodating enough to retire to Lyme, leaving the parsonage available for their occupation. In the end, a better solution arises. Hayter is given the holding of a living until the young man for whom it is intended reaches an age to take orders. By that time, Dr. Shirley will presumably be conveniently dead and the living at Uppercross available.
Blake Ritson as Mr. Elton, 2009
Two of Austen’s heroes, Edmund Bertram of Mansfield Park and Henry Tilney of Northanger Abbey, enter the clergy because their families hold livings for which they are destined. Despite this lack of a calling, both are well-suited to the profession and can be expected to prove model clergymen. Edward Ferrars’ decision to enter the church without any expectation of patronage, on the other hand, is extremely risky, perhaps even foolish. Edward is the only character in Austen who appears truly called to serve, and it is only Colonel Brandon’s generosity that saves him from being one of many hungry curates in need of a living. Other clergymen in Austen get lucky, too. We are not told by what means Emma’s Mr. Elton ascends to the living at Highbury (his lack of connection to the area suggests he was appointed by a bishop), but along with his additional “independent property” he is situated well enough to both marry and provide him with an inflated sense of his own importance. Certainly his callous behavior towards Harriet Smith proves he is ill-suited for the clerical life: his ego so in command that he wounds a parishioner to assuage it. Mr. Collins is even worse and even luckier, for at least Mr. Elton shows a degree of competence that can account for his preferment. Mr. Collins, on the other hand, receives ordination with no prospects on his horizon, yet just so happens to come almost immediately to Lady Catherine’s attention and rise to all the glories belonging to the Rector of Hunsford, all without doing anything to merit such fortune. That patrons like Lady Catherine had the disposal of livings in their power and would choose to bestow them on sycophants like Mr. Collins was a serious problem. It is no coincidence that the same book gives us an example in Mr. Darcy of the conscientious patron: one who will not leave the moral guidance and care of his tenants to wastrel like Wickham. That Wickham even attempts to secure a living – merely a means to an annual income, with no concern whatsoever for the welfare of the parishioners – illustrates the dangers of the system. I think it safe to assert that Austen thought the appointment of undeserving clergymen to parishes a bigger concern than pluralism.
Mr. Collins makes an impromptu speech at the Netherfield Ball, elucidating for both the readers and all the guests of the house the duties and obligations of a rector, as he understands them:
“The rector of a parish has much to do. — In the first place, he must make such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making as comfortable as possible.”
Clearly, he does not belong to that category of clergymen receiving that iota of Mary Crawford’s approval for having the sense to not write their own sermons, instead utilizing those widely published by Hugh Blair. The parishioners of Hunsford have my heartfelt sympathy.
Hugh Blair by David Martin, 1775. The famous sermon writer is portrayed wearing the same style of clerical collar sported by Henry Austen and Mr. Elton above.
*For more on this subject please read Celia Easton’s essay “‘The Probability of Some Negligence’: Avoiding the Horror of the Absent Clergyman,” published in 2010 in Persuasions: No. 32. It largely inspired this blog post.
Meet Alexa Adams ~ A devoted reader of Jane Austen since her childhood, Alexa Adams is the author of The Madness of Mr. Darcy, Tales of Less Pride and Prejudice (First Impressions, Second Glances, and Holidays at Pemberley), Emma & Elton: Something Truly Horrid, Jane & Bingley: Something Slightly Unsettling, Becoming Mrs. Norris, and the short story collection And Who Can be in Doubt of What Followed?: The Novels of Jane Austen Continued. Alexa resides in Delaware with her husband, daughter, and cat. She blogs about Austen and Austenesque literature at alexaadams.blogspot.com and is a contributing member of AustenAuthors.net.
I am thrilled to have Betty Bolté join us today on the blog. Betty writes in several genres, and she is one of the authors I share duties with in the Common Elements Romance Project. You can learn more about the project HERE. Or enter the November Giveaway for your choice of one of the books released this month from the Project. Enter HERE.
For now, let’s learn something of Betty Bolté.
First, tell us a bit about yourself. From where do you come? Past jobs, awards, the usual bio stuff.
I have been a word lover since I learned the alphabet and started reading at age 5 years. Despite my love of language, my first jobs were as a Sunday morning bus girl at a restaurant, as a waitress at McDonald’s and a donut shop, and after high school I worked for a while at a department store. I worked there while I waited to be hired to work for the federal government as a clerk, and then after I’d worked as a clerk for a couple of years I switched to being a secretary for several “Beltway Bandits” corporations around Washington, D.C. I left the corporate world in 1988 to start my own word processing business from home after I’d married my husband. From then on, I worked at home as much as possible as a writer or technical editor. I’ve written magazine articles, essays, newspaper articles and a column about our experience as part of the Sandwich Generation (having my father living with us, 3 generations in one house). I’ve written several nonfiction books, all while working on learning how to write fiction. One highlight of my career is that for several years, I worked as a technical writer/editor for SAIC supporting the Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, editing real rocket science.
I write in a variety of genres: historical romance, historical fiction, paranormal romance, and I’ve started a new series, the Fury Falls Inn series, that combines the historical with paranormal and a touch of romance. I published my first 4 romances in 2014, 2 by a digital press and 2 from a hybrid press. One of my books won an honest-to-goodness gold medal, Hometown Heroines: True Stories of Bravery, Daring, and Adventure, from the Children’s Literary Classics organization in 2015. They invited me to an award ceremony in Las Vegas where they placed the medal around my neck, too. That was quite a moment in my career! With the release of Charmed Against All Odds this month, I will have published a total of 20 fiction and nonfiction books.
Tell us about your new release.
Charmed Against All Odds is the fifth book in my Secrets of Roseville paranormal romance series. It’s also one of the titles included in the Common Elements Romance Project collection of stories, each including the same five elements but used in any number of ways. Set in the quirky small town of Roseville, Tennessee, the Secrets of Roseville series features five women who are witches and mediums and have some fun adventures as a result. In Charmed Against All Odds, Roxie Golden has to come to terms with her ex-fiance Leo King returning to town unexpectedly and against his will. They’re forced to work together to find a series of 6 enchanted charms in order to first, end their reluctant partnership and second, learn their destiny.
What was your favorite chapter (or part) of your current project to write and why?
Writing the backstories for the incidents that each of the charms represents in Roxie and Leo’s previous relationship proved both fun and challenging. I really had to think about what their lives had been like as children and teens before the falling out that ended their engagement. At the same time, I wanted to give each charm a specific meaning and reason for being part of this visual reminder for Roxie to wear in their new relationship. I found a company that makes each of the charms I feature in the story. I’m still pondering whether I want to make my own charm bracelet…
How do you choose your characters’ names?
I’ve used a variety of resources to consider possible names for my characters. Depending on whether it’s historical or contemporary, those options change. I’ve used census records of the most popular names from the 1920s when writing a World War Two novel, for example. I’ve gleaned names from the historical research books of Alabama for my Fury Falls Inn series, The Haunting of Fury Falls Inn is book one, set in 1821 Alabama. I’ve consulted baby name lists for my contemporary stories and the Character-Naming Sourcebook which includes the meanings behind the names by region/country. I’ve also pulled names from my own family tree and people I’ve met.
Share a quirky fact from your research.
Since Roxie is a witch, and in my story I’ve created the Order of Witchery Lore (OWL), I needed to find out more about Wicca and what I could learn as to the jewelry people of that faith would wear. What it means, how it’s important, and then reflect that in my story. From the Wicca Spirituality site (https://www.wicca-spirituality.com/wiccan-jewelry.html), I learned that the third finger is the heart finger (thus why relationship rings are typically worn on that finger) and rings worn there are “especially powerful.” The index finger is also powerful as the creation finger. Judgement and restraint center on the middle finger. Communication—Roxie’s strongest power and the Order’s mission—comes from the pinky finger. So I chose to have the OWL membership ring be worn on the right pinky finger. I actually blogged about this topic in more detail (https://bettybolte.net/?p=3231) if you’re interested in finding out more. I actually typically wear a ring I bought when I received my MA in English on my 3rd finger, and my dearly departed mother-in-law’s wedding band on my pinky, which makes me think it helps with my creativity.
Can you tell us a bit about your upcoming projects?
I have my WWII story, Notes of Love and War, out to beta readers now. It’s a historical women’s fiction story set in Baltimore, Maryland. It’s inspired by reading my parents’ correspondence during and after the war. I’m also getting ready to write the second book in the six-book Fury Falls Inn series, Under Lock and Key, which I hope to release by summer 2020. I am debating how to publish Notes of Love and War and another 18th-century historical women’s fiction story about Martha Washington’s life that I’ve written. So plenty to keep me out of trouble!
Charmed Against All Odds
Loving her brings out the magic in him…
Wedding bells are ringing, but not for Roxie Golden. If she can survive another round of wedding plans, then her life can return to normal. She’s perfectly happy running the bookstore and weaving helpful magical spells. Then one stormy day, her ex-fiancé strolls back into her life with a gift neither of them wants.
Leo King wants to flee the small town for the big city. Forget about the shame he brought upon himself when he abused his magical powers. First, to satisfy his warlock father’s final wish, he must deliver the mysterious box to Roxie’s bookstore.
But when Roxie opens the box, revealing an enchanted bracelet and a quest spell, their plans and their lives are changed forever. Trapped in a reluctant partnership with the woman he once loved, he risks everything—including his heart—for a second chance.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His deep, gravelly voice grated on Leo’s nerves.
“Nothing. Just looking around.” Leo matched the man’s smile with one of his own. No way would he share their true purpose for returning to the nostalgic old theater.
“Do you have tickets?” The manager raised one brow as he stared at Leo.
“No, sir.” Leo’s smile withered and fell away. “Like I said, we simply wanted to see the lobby again.”
“We haven’t been here in a very long time.” Roxie smiled, a much more sincere and thus believable friendly expression than either of the two men had attempted. “Nothing’s changed.”
“One thing has for certain.” The man’s pale blue eyes glinted in the light shining from the bright chandeliers. “You have to buy a movie ticket before you come into the lobby. This isn’t a sightseeing stop on some tour.”
“We only need a few minutes and we’ll be out of here.” Leo cut a glance at Roxie, who nodded.
“Absolutely.”
“Either buy tickets to watch a movie or leave. Those are your options.” The manager crossed his arms over his narrow, self-righteous chest, his Adam’s apple prominently sliding up and down his scrawny throat. “No exceptions.”
“But—” Leo objected with his entire being. He couldn’t do it. Even if his libido wanted him to.
Sit in a darkened theater with Roxie at his side. Within reach of draping his arm around her, her head resting on his shoulder. Or playing thumb wars while they watched the movie. Sharing buttered popcorn out of a large tub between them, their fingers brushing when they both reached in at the same time. Like all the previous times they’d enjoyed being together.
“No exceptions.” The manager shook his head. “Your choice.”
The charm hid somewhere within the walls of the theater. He sensed they were close, a niggling in his core like he hadn’t felt in a long time. He couldn’t leave without the charm. Leo clenched his jaw as he noticed Roxie’s curt nod indicating they should do as the manager insisted. If she could do it, then he’d have to man up. Be a true gentleman and keep his hands to himself. No matter what. If possible…
Meet Betty Bolté:
Award-winning author Betty Bolté is known for authentic and accurately researched historical fiction with heart and supernatural romance novels. A lifetime reader and writer, she’s worked as a secretary, freelance word processor, technical writer/editor, and author. She’s been published in essays, newspaper articles/columns, magazine articles, and nonfiction books but now enjoys crafting entertaining and informative fiction, especially stories that bring American history to life. She earned a Master’s Degree in English in 2008, emphasizing the study of literature and storytelling, and has judged numerous writing contests for both fiction and nonfiction. She lives in northern Alabama with her loving husband of more than 30 years. Her cat, Calliope, serves as her muse and writing partner, and her dog, Zola, makes sure she goes outside frequently. She loves to cook, travel, read, crochet and take long walks. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America, Historical Novel Society, Women’s Fiction Writers Association, Alabama Writers Conclave, and Authors Guild. Get to know her atwww.bettybolte.com.
This is not a post based on Jane Austen and her writing or on the Regency Period in England as you would customarily find on my blog. Rather it is a a moment in time when I stood witness to the true human spirit, and like so many others, I must speak of it. November 14 is the anniversary of one of the most tragic events I ever experienced, and I hope you will allow me to take you into my life, and by doing so, you will understand more of what makes me the person I am, as well as comprehend why I look to the simplicity of reading and writing romance for my release. When I think back to the moments in my life, which defined me as a person, one I must choose is my senior year in college. I attended Marshall University in Huntington, West Virginia.
On November 14, 1970, the Marshall faithful followed the team to East Carolina University for a closely contested game. Returning to Huntington after the 17-14 loss, Flight 932, a chartered twin-engine Southern Airways DC-9, struck a tree on a hill 5,543 feet west of the runway. The plane cut a path 95 feet wide by 279 feet long through the tree line, even clipping an abandoned house. It crashed, nose-first, in a hollow 4,219 feet short of the runway. The plane, essentially, came apart. A fire melted most of the fuselage. All 75 people aboard, including the entire football team (37 players), coaches, team doctors, the university’s athletic director, 25 supporters (many prominent citizens of the town), and a crew of five, died. Even today, the cause remains uncertain: weather (fog and rain) or too low of a descent or improper use of cockpit instrumentation data.
Other than being a MU student and part time waitress, I also spent some time with a volunteer medical unit, one stationed close to the accident. (I later taught at one of the high schools in the area.) At the time, I thought I might become a nurse. I was certified in basic first aid, and I was not of the nature to panic when I encountered danger. Previously, I assisted several people in car wrecks and the like.
Upon my arrival at the scene, those in charge pressed me into combing the hillside for the bodies, one of the most horrendous experiences of my life. With flashlights and flares used for light, those of us determined to be of service began to gather what we could salvage. We each thought to discover someone clinging to life, but no such scene ever occurred. In the movie, We Are Marshall, there is a line that says something to the effect of “There are no survivors.” It always brings me to tears (even as I type this piece).
We were instructed to take our finds to a temporary morgue at the National Guard Armory at the airport. I recall the terrible moment when we realized we didn’t have enough body bags. It was a taste of reality that shook me to my core. If one looked to the hillside hosting the crash scene, he would find small fires that burned for hours. Only the jet’s engine and a wing section were recognizable to the investigators trying to piece together an explanation of a disaster.
Pieces of bodies were scattered throughout the area. White plastic was used to block the view of “interested” onlookers who rushed to the scene. What we could recover, we placed on sheets laid on the armory’s floor. I remember that, ironically, S. S. Logan Packing Company, distributor of the Cavalier meat brands, provided a cooling unit to preserve the bodies until they could be identified.
plane crash | West Virginia travel queen wvtravelqueen.com
Over the next week and a half, I attended 13 funerals, three in one day alone. An “instant” snuffed out the lives of the young who still held “potential” before them (the players) and those who greeted life as a partner (mothers, fathers, business leaders, doctors, lawyers, coaches). A 52-minute flight changed a town and changed me. A grief impossible to explain gripped the area. It was not only that we lost a football program. In reality, we were not a powerhouse at the time, but we were one of the first schools to recruit Black athletes, a statement of change following the Civil Rights movement. And like every young person, I held my hopes set on a brighter tomorrow. The crash was a gaping hole waiting to be healed.
Nate Ruffin and Jack Lengyel via The Herald Dispatch – Anthony Mackie portrayed Nate Ruffin and Matthew McConaughey portrayed Coach Jack Lengyel in “We Are Marshall”
The fictional character of Annie Cantrell in the movie commemorating this event says of the grief: Those were not welcome days. We buried sons, brothers, mothers, fathers, fiancés. Clocks ticked, but time did not pass. The sun rose and the sun set, but the shadows remained. When once there was sound, now there was silence. What once was whole, now was shattered.
1969 Marshall University football team via herald-dispatch.com
Despite our common anguish, things happened to keep the hope alive. The NCAA permitted Marshall to play freshmen, something never allowed previously, and with the insistence of Nate Ruffin, a man who later served on the university’s Alumni Board, as did I, the program became whole again. Walk-on players stepped up, and a team resurfaced.
I would like to tell you that the program miraculously became automatic winners, but that would be a lie. For my birthday weekend, the first game in 1971, I was among those in the stands at Morehead State University watching the “Young” Thundering Herd; and although MU lost, many of us saw it as a victory for the university and the town. The next weekend, I was again among the throng crowded into Fairfield Stadium for the team’s first home game. And miracle of miracles, God answered the combined prayer of a crazed crowd – from those who pleaded for a sign that He had not forsaken them. I am not one to beg God for winning lottery numbers or for an unexpected inheritance, but I admit to adding my silent prayers for a win and was granted a last-minute one over Xavier. For hours afterwards, we remained in the stands, hugging strangers who shared the joy of seeing hope resurrected.
Marshall won only one more game that season, and for over a decade the university and the town suffered through numerous losing seasons; yet, even with those losses, people remembered the Xavier win. Often one heard someone say, “Were you here when the plane crashed?” Meaning, “Do we have a shared identity?” In the mid-80’s, MU won a I-AA National Championship and in the 90s it won more games than any other Division I team. Like every other school, MU has its good seasons and its rebuilding ones, but football is not the lesson here.
What did I learn from this tragedy? First, life is short. Embrace each day as if it is your last. Secondly, hope never dies. Even when faced with complete devastation, some moment, no matter how brief, tells a person that the phoenix will rise from the ashes. That man can step into the light once again. Lastly, true love is the most compelling of tasks. It is what sees us through the darkness.
November 14, 1970, serves as a defining date in my life. Like many who experienced this tragedy first hand, I am forever changed. However, the release of the 2006 movie We Are Marshall filled that gaping hole. I cried the first time I saw the film – the memory still too raw even after 35 years, but with each subsequent viewing, the hurt has lessened. Instead of death, I now view the resiliency of the human spirit. That resiliency and that need for hope and love are the subject of my writing.
This is the Marshall Plane Crash Memorial Fountain found on Marshall’s college campus. This fountain pays tribute to the 75 people Marshall loss on that sad day. https://www.theclio.com/web/entry?id=26776
The Memorial Student Center Fountain was dedicated to the memory of the plane crash victims on November 12, 1972. Each year on the crash’s anniversary the water is turned off until the next spring. Its creator Harry Bertora said, “I hoped the fountain would ‘commemorate the living – rather than the dead – on the waters of life, rising, receding, surging, so to express upward growth, immortality, and eternality.'”
As a footnote to my tale, I would also like to point you to a book on the tragedy, but one written by a man NOT on that fateful flight. November Ever After comes to us at the hands of Craig T. Greenlee, a man who left the Marshall football program in 1969 for personal reasons, but returned to rebuild the program after the plane crash. You can learn more of Mr. Greenlee’s story HERE.
November Ever After: A Memoir of Tragedy and Triumph in the Wake of the 1970 Marshall Football Plane Crash
The legacy of the players who perished in the 1970 Marshall football plane crash transcends wins and losses. Their tragic deaths squashed the likelihood of a bloody race riot on campus. Students at Marshall University had no idea that the horrific events on the night of November 14 would change their lives forever. The team’s plane crashed into the side of a mountain, and there were no survivors among the 75 passengers. Unless you were there, you could never comprehend the full gravity of grief that engulfed a college town in the days following the worst aviation disaster in the history of American sports. I know a lot about it. For two seasons, I was a Marshall football player. But for personal reasons, I decided that 1969 would be my last hurrah. As things turned out, it proved to be a life-saving choice. Had I not walked away from the game, I know it could have been me on that plane. When the school started to pick up the pieces of the football program, it was a no-brainer for me to return and become part of the rebuilding process in the spring of 1971. Media projects devoted to the Marshall football crash generated well-deserved exposure. Even so, there are glaring omissions in those presentations. Through this book, the record is set straight. Former Marshall defensive back Craig T. Greenlee provides insights and recollections that you simply will not find in other media accounts about the tragedy and its aftermath.
I am celebrating the last of my seven releases this calendar year. A REGENCY CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL, a “clean” Regency anthology, featuring smart and somewhat sassy heroines, arrives TOMORROW, November 7. My contribution to the project is a story entitled “Last Woman Standing.” I think you will enjoy this one. Dreamstone Publishing in Australia is bringing this anthology to life.
HERE IS THE PREORDER LINK. THE ANTHOLOGY IS AVAILABLE FOR A MERE $0.99 TO PURCHASE.
JACKSON SHAW, the Marquess of Rivens, never considered the “gypsy blessing” presented to his family during the time of Henry VIII truly a blessing. He viewed it more as a curse. According to the “blessing,” in his thirtieth year, at the Christmas ball hosted by his family, he was to choose a wife among the women attending. The catch was he possessed no choice in the matter. His wife was to be the one who proved herself to be his perfect match, according to the gypsy’s provisions: a woman who would bring prosperity to his land by her love of nature and her generous heart. In his opinion, none of the women vying for his hand appeared to care for anything but themselves.
EVELYN HAWTHORNE comes to River’s End to serve as the companion to the Marchioness of Rivens, his lordship’s grandmother. However, Lady Rivens has more than companionship in mind when she employs the girl, whose late father was a renown horticulturalist. The marchioness means to gather Gerald Hawthorne’s rare specimens to prevent those with less scrupulous ideas from purchasing Hawthorne’s conservatory, and, thereby, stealing away what little choice her grandson has in naming a wife, for all the potential brides must present the Rivenses with a rare flower to demonstrate the lady’s love of nature. Little does the marchioness know Hawthorne’s daughter might not only know something of nature, but be the person to fulfill the gypsy’s blessing.
Excerpt from Chapter Three of “Last Woman Standing”
When alone last evening, Evelyn had uttered multiple words of self-chastisement regarding her complicity in relegating certain members of the marchioness’s guest list to the least desirable rooms in the manor house, but, at the time, with Lady Rivens’s encouragement, her actions had appeared so reasonable. Like her ladyship, Evelyn had declared her intentions honest, but, privately, she questioned whether the idea of a woman winning the attentions of the marquess simply by making an appearance at a ball with some sort of “exotic” plant in hand went against all things in which she believed. Her parents had been deeply devoted to each other. It was beyond Evelyn’s comprehension how those of the aristocracy had turned marriage into a business contract, with affection playing no part in the joining.
Only last week, when her ladyship explained knowing very little of Lord Justice Rivens until the night of the Christmas ball, Evelyn had asked innocently, “Were you not embarrassed from all the attention given to those vying for the marquess’s hand?”
Her ladyship had simply shrugged. “I was brought up with the knowledge I would marry into the aristocracy. My father was an earl, and I was the eldest daughter. A viscountess or a countess or a marchioness, or even a duchess. Those were the acceptable positions I was expected to claim. It was the same with Justice. He was groomed to choose an appropriate bride from among the members of the ton. We were fortunate, though, for our personalities blended well, and we grew to know true affection.”
“But not love,” she had mouthed the words when her ladyship had turned away. Hearing Lady Rivens’s explanation, Evelyn had told herself she was glad not to have been born into the aristocracy. She was a gentleman’s daughter, but, without a title, and prior to her father’s passing, she had held no restrictions upon her choices. A man with a title. A clergyman. A barrister. A man of trade. She supposed she would have been permitted more latitude in choosing a husband if her father had not known such a great loss with his wife’s passing, and Evelyn had not remained at his side, even when she came of age to marry. She had feared what would happen to him if she had abandoned him, for Gerald Hawthorne had had no one but her to love him. “Then he abandoned me,” she said softly to no one in particular.
“Who abandoned you?” a familiar voice asked.
Evelyn dipped a quick curtsey. “Good afternoon, my lord. Do you require my service?”
The gentleman stepped further into the conservatory. He nodded toward the small stove she had lit earlier. “It is quite chilly outside.”
“Yes, my lord.” She paused awkwardly when she glanced up at him, realizing once again how devastatingly handsome the marquess was. “I beg your pardon, my lord.” She repeated her question, “Did you seek me out for the marchioness?”
He shook off the idea. “My grandmother and I have finished our meeting with Mrs. Astor and Mr. Watkins regarding the arrangements for the house party. Her ladyship has taken to her bed for a short rest before supper.” He stroked the back of the leaf of a lemon tree. “I understand I am in your debt. Lady Rivens says it was your suggestion that I might choose to join the other single gentlemen in the dower house during the length of the party.”
Evelyn heaved a rueful sigh. “After Lady Rivens explained the number of ladies who would expect you to pay attendance—.”
He spoke in disapproving tones. “You mean those who wish to discover me in an empty room so they can claim being compromised?”
“There is that also,” she reluctantly admitted.
“Why is it you never scream the word ‘compromise’ when you and I are alone together, as we are now?”
Evelyn’s heart hitched higher with his question. “You are my employer, sir. Naturally, we might encounter each other when others are not about.”
“You and I do more than encounter each other in the practice of your duties,” he argued as he moved closer. “You must realize I seek you out repeatedly because I enjoy your company.”
Although the idea pleased her, Evelyn spoke in firm tones, as she moved one plant into a larger pot. “I, too, cherish our conversations, my lord, but I fully comprehend that once you take a wife, those conversations cannot continue. I am well aware of my place in your household, a position for which I am very grateful.” When she turned, Lord Rivens was closer than she had expected.
He caressed her cheek with his palm. “Then you do not fear me. You do not think I hold nefarious and, likely, self-serving, reasons for spending time with you?”
“No,” she replied quickly. Evelyn knew the marquess to be more than handsome, intelligent, spontaneous, and a bit prideful. She also knew, despite her original accusations regarding his character, he was a gentleman. A gentleman accustomed to having his own way, but a gentleman, nonetheless.
“Excellent. I do not debauch young maidens, especially those in my employ,” he said softly. “Even those who possess the softest skin I have ever touched.” He leaned slowly toward her. Evelyn knew she should put a stop to his manipulations, but she was excessively curious as to whether a second kiss might match the one he had given her previously. Unfortunately, the moment was not to be, as Mrs. Duckworth strolled through the still open door, followed by her brood of goslings. “Honk!”
His lordship jumped back before spinning around to face the intruder, but Evelyn nudged him aside before the marquess could reach the goose. “Mrs. Duckworth!” she exclaimed, kneeling down to greet the honking goslings.
“Dare I ask why you named a goose Mrs. Duckworth?” he demanded in questionable amusement.
“Mrs. Gooseworth sounded odd, and she does not seem to mind, do you, love?” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial tone, “Moreover, as it is customary to c-o-o-k a g-o-o-s-e for Christmas, I thought it better to name her Mrs. Duckworth.”
He chuckled and said, “‘How ill white hairs become a fool and jester.’”
“Henry IV, Part Two,” she repeated automatically, “and you sound like your grandmother.” She stroked the goose’s neck and back. “Are you looking for your meal?”
“You feed the geese?”
She turned to note a slight shake of his head in what appeared to be disbelief. “Naturally. In Northamptonshire, I always fed Papa’s animals. That way he could keep them out of his precious plants. Is that not correct, Puddles?” She scooped up one of the goslings and held it to her chest.
The marquess barked a laugh. “Puddles?”
“You would understand if you had viewed this gosling when I first met him, or her,” she said with a grin. “Evidently, my darling Puddles ate something he should not. He squirted more water than food each time he took a step, leaving little puddles behind, rather than the customary nugget.”
“You are adorable, Miss Hawthorne,” his lordship said with a smile matching hers.“Do you intend to fatten Mrs. Duckworth up yourself?” He knelt beside her and claimed another of the goslings who were honking and pecking at the floor where she had earlier crumbled a stale piece of bread into tiny pieces to tempt them.
“If so, I shan’t enjoy Christmas supper,” she declared readily. “And I swear I give them only food from my own plate or what Cook must throw away. Please say you do not mind my acting so foolishly. I promise the geese will not be a nuisance.”
He smiled upon her. “I fear, my dear, such is a promise you do not have the ability to keep, for, surely, someone will complain about the noise or Puddle’s puddles, but I hold no objection to your indulging the animals upon the manor if it makes you happy.”
Evelyn could not recall a time since before her mother’s passing that someone had done something to make her happy. It was all she could do not to throw her arms around his lordship’s neck and kiss him in gratitude.
I HAVE THREE eBOOK COPIES OF THE ANTHOLOGY AVAILABLE TO THOSE WHO COMMENT BELOW. THE GIVEAWAY WILL END AT MIDNIGHT EDST TODAY. THE WINNERS WILL BE NOTIFIED SHORTLY AFTERWARDS and THE BOOKS PRESENTED ON NOVEMBER 7.
via Wikipedia ~ Fair Use ~ Image showing a Revenant, monster in the AD&D game.
Soon, I will stand in my driveway and hand out candy snacks to those brave enough to enter my small cul de sac, where few turn on their lights for the Trick or Treaters. And once more, my thoughts again run to the macabre. Revenance, or people returning from the dead in a ghostlike form or as an animated corpse, is a common theme in paranormal tales, and Halloween is all about the paranormal. The word “revenant” comes to us from the Latin word reveniens, meaning “returning.”
William of Newburgh (during the 1190s) and other early English historians of the Middle Ages documented these appearances. “It would not be easy to believe that the corpses of the dead should sally (I know not by what agency) from their graves, and should wander about to the terror or destruction of the living, and again return to the tomb, which of its own accord spontaneously opened to receive them, did not frequent examples, occurring in our own times, suffice to establish this fact, to the truth of which there is abundant testimony.” (William of Newburgh, Historia rerum Anglicarum (History of English Affairs), Book Five, Chapter 5, Fordham University, https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/williamofnewburgh-five.asp)
Medieval European stories of revenants have some common features. Those who revive from the dead are typically wrongdoers in their lifetime, often described as wicked, vain, or unbelievers. Often the revenants are associated with the spreading of disease among the living. The appropriate response is usually exhumation, followed by some form of decapitation, and burning or removal of the heart. Several stories state that revenants drink blood. Again, this assumption likely comes from the practice of leaving diseased corpses exposed for an extended period of time. In truth, the gases in the body would cause the body to bloat, as well as to force the blood from the extremities through the lungs and esophagus and into the mouth. It would be nature for unlearned people to try to explain this phenomenon by thinking the dead had grown fat by feasting on the blood of others.
For example, in Historia rerum Anglicarum (mentioned above) the corpse of one revenant is reported to have been found in the grave, swollen and “suffused with blood”. When it was pierced, a stream of blood flew out of the wound. This part of the story is paralleled in many accounts of alleged vampires, and the phenomenon it depicts is, in fact, known to occur frequently as part of the natural process of corpse decomposition. Revenants are therefore another example of the widespread historical belief in vampires. (Revenant) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Revenant
Heck, even Disney and Pixar are getting in on the idea of the dead returning. Coco is an upcoming American computer-animatedmusicalfantasy film produced by Pixar Animation Studios and released by Walt Disney Pictures. The story follows a 12-year-old boy named Miguel who sets off a chain of events relating to a century-old mystery, leading to an extraordinary family reunion. The concept of the film is based on the Mexican holiday of the Day of the Dead. Coco is scheduled to be released on November 22, 2017.
Vampire tales have existed in Europe since the 11th Century (and maybe before that time). A person could become a vampire if he were unbaptized or killed in some violent manner. Some people were labeled as vampires if they were not from the area in which the unusual incident took place or if they were the first to die from an infectious disease.
In the 1600s and the 1700s, in Europe, people performed funerary rites. These were intended to guard against vampires. Those involved would put a sickle across the body to decapitate the body if it rose from the grave, or they would place large rocks under their chins to prevent the vampire from opening his mouth.
Vampire Darcy’s Desire: A Pride and Prejudice Paranormal Adventure
Vampire Darcy’s Desire presents Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice as a heart-pounding vampire romance filled with passion and danger.
Tormented by a 200-year-old curse and his fate as a half human/half vampire dhampir, Fitzwilliam Darcy vows to live a solitary life rather than inflict the horrors of his life upon an innocent wife and his first born son. However, when he encounters the captivating Elizabeth Bennet, his will is sorely tested.
As a man, Darcy yearns for Elizabeth, but as a vampire, he is also driven to possess her. Uncontrollably drawn to each other, they are forced to confront a different kind of “pride” and his enemy’s “prejudice,” while wrestling with the seductive power of forbidden love. Evil forces, led by George Wickham, the purveyor of the curse, attack from all sides, and Darcy learns his only hope to survive is to align himself with Elizabeth, who is uncannily astute in how to defeat Wickham, a demon determined to destroy each generation of Darcys.
Vampire Darcy’s Desire retells Austen’s greatest love story in a hauntingly compelling tale. Can love be the only thing that can change him?
“An engaging and romantic paranormal surprise” ~ JustJane1813
“Jeffers ups the ante even more by basing the core of the plot line on the traditional Scottish ballad.” ~ The Royal Reviews
Excerpt from Vampire Darcy’s Desirewhere Darcy, Elizabeth, and the Colonel prepared to fight the revenants led by Wickham…
“Will this work, Colonel?” Gordy unloaded bundles of white thorn and ash staves. It was high noon, and the Darcys prepared for the evening.
“My cousin knows how to rid a land of vampires, and this is one of the steps.” The colonel placed a stave horizontally across each of the marked and unmarked graves.
Gordy followed Damon’s pattern. “What will them staves do?” he asked, bending over to place the wood carefully on the mounded dirt.
“The soul cannot leave the grave if the stave lies across it.”
“All them creatures be stuck in the ground?”
Damon responded, “Until we decide to permit them to leave.”
“That be somethin’ to view, Colonel.” He picked up another bundle and moved to the other side of the cemetery.
Damon watched as Elizabeth struggled with the large bags of salt and millet. “Gordy, leave those if you would and assist the lady instead. She will explain what she requires of you.”
Damon’s newest recruit followed his orders. “Let me be helpin’ ye, ma’am.” Gordy took the heavy bag from Elizabeth’s arms.
“Oh, bless you, Gordy.” She wiped perspiration from her forehead with her handkerchief.
“Ye jist be tellin’ Gordy what to do, and I be doin’ it. Colonel there tell me to he’p ye.”
Elizabeth looked up to see Damon continuing to place the staves. “I will thank him later. Now, Gordy, if you will follow me, we want to place a stream of salt all around the inside of the graveyard.”
“Seem like a mighty big waste of salt, Ma’am, but I be doin’ what ye ask.” Using a knife, he cut a small hole in the bottom of the bag and walked slowly around the perimeter of the site.
“Make at least two rounds, Gordy. The spirits cannot cross the salt line, so I want no breaks in the markings,” Elizabeth instructed him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He continued his slow trek, meticulously filling in the uneven flow.
Darcy asked, “Where shall we place the millet, Elizabeth?”
“Have Peter use a ladle to scoop millet onto both the head and the foot of each grave and before the gate of each crypt.”
Darcy smiled at her, squeezing her hand. “Yes, my love.”
They brought in wooden stakes and several bags of coins to hide in a church alcove until they required them. “Everything is set!” the colonel called out to the group. “Gordy and Peter, you two stay here. We will send food and drink. You are to make certain no one else enters the cemetery. The three of us will return long before it is time for the confrontation.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“Gordy,” Darcy asked, “do the villagers understand they must rebury those we release tonight?”
“I be tellin’ ’em all. We be not understandin’ how ye be doin’ all this, but they come on the morrow. I’s sees to it.”
Darcy, the colonel, and Elizabeth returned to the inn. Not wishing to speak of what the night might bring, they took their meal in Darcy’s room, away from curious travelers. They ate in near silence, each consumed with his thoughts. At length, the colonel said, “I believe I will take to my bed for a few hours. It is likely to be the last rest I will have for some time. If you two will excuse me.” He left with a half bow.
Darcy and Elizabeth remained in silence until Darcy said, “I wish I had not agreed to this. How can a man place his wife in danger and still call himself a man?”
“I am not a weak woman. You, in fact, taught me to use a sword and to ride,” she protested.
Darcy protested, “I should not have encouraged your behavior.”
“Mr. Darcy, you fell in love with me because I was different. Did we not settle this earlier?”
Darcy moved to kneel before her. “God help me, Elizabeth, I truly do love you, and although I know you to be more capable than many men with whom I am acquainted, I cannot bear to place you in peril.”
“Do not worry. Remember, Damon will protect me.”
Darcy felt a pang of jealousy at hearing her refer to his cousin on such intimate terms. “It is my province to protect my wife.”
“We return to the same argument. Damon Fitzwilliam recognizes me as capable. Mayhap it is his experience on the battlefield that permits him to see a person’s true worth. Even though you profess to claim me exemplary, you cling to antiquated ideas. I gave you my heart months earlier. May I remind you, my husband, it is my love for you that brought me here!”
Darcy closed his eyes in submission. “Is there nothing I may say to change your mind?”
Elizabeth gently touched his face in a soft caress. “No, sir. Your cousin will go tonight, with or without me. I cannot permit him to do this alone. You must concentrate your efforts on Wickham. Damon deserves some consideration for all he has done for us.” Elizabeth brushed her lips across Darcy’s. “Now, I will follow your cousin’s example. I intend to take to my bed. Would you join me, my husband?”
Darcy emitted a deep sigh of resignation. He was not certain he could ever be the type of man Elizabeth required, but he knew without a doubt he could not permit her to leave him. “Holding you, my love? How could I refuse?” Darcy scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He reverently lowered her to the pillows, following her down. “Remind me why I should stop the curse.”
In chapter six of volume one of Pride and Prejudice, Charlotte Lucas and Elizabeth Bennet provide us several tidbits regarding the success of a marriage during the Georgian era.
~ “If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely — a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better shew more affection than she feels.”
~ “But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal it, he must find it out.”
~ “When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in love as much as she chuses.”
~ “As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard, nor of its reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house, and has since dined in company with him four times. This is not quite enough to make her understand his character.”
~ “Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always contrive to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”
In my latest Regency release, The Heartless Earl, Sterling Baxter, the Earl of Merritt, has married a woman who left him as quickly as she gave birth to their son. He is cuckolded in the eyes of Society. Trapped in a marriage neither he nor Lady Merritt wish. So what were some of the realities of marriage in the Georgian era, specifically the Regency?
First off, remaining unmarried did not equal freedom for a woman of the Georgian era, rather she customarily experienced a life of penury, always at the mercy of benevolent relatives. Even Austen suffered after her father’s passing, which makes Charlotte Lucas’s speech regarding Mr. Collins evoke more sympathy: “You must be surprised, very much surprised—so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you. But when you have had time to think it over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know; I never was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins’ character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state.” However, when a woman married the important decisions of her life passed from her father’s control to that of a husband. Marriage was a lifelong contract between a man and a woman. It was a crap shoot, so to speak. Divorce was expensive and VERY public. Most couples avoided even the thought of such an act.
The Bastardy Act of 1733 created something called Knobstick Weddings. A knobstick wedding is the forced marriage of a pregnant single woman with the man known or believed to be the father. It derives its name from the staves of office carried by the church wardens whose presence was intended to ensure that the ceremony took place.The practice and the term were most prevalent in the United Kingdom in the 18th century. Motivation for these arrangements was primarily financial–local parishes were obliged to provide relief for single mothers under the laws regarding relief for the poor. After the passing of the Bastardy Act in 1733, it became the responsibility of the father to pay for the maintenance of the child. Local authorities therefore encouraged the woman to enter into a marriage with the person presumed to be the father in an attempt to reduce their spending and shift the responsibility to the identified man. On some occasions the parish would pay the man to marry the girl, while there are also accounts of more aggressive tactics. In one case, recorded in the 6 October 1829 edition of The Times, a man was coerced into marrying the woman he was accused of making pregnant. The authorities, referred to as the parish overseers, threatened to hang him if he did not go through with the arrangement. Feeling that he had no option, he agreed to the marriage and the pair were wed. However, those responsible for forcing the partnership were later called to face charges of fraudulently procuring the marriage.” [Knobstick Wedding]
Marriage, whether it was rushed or planned for months on end, was a very public affair, one designed not only to announce the ceremony, but to assure the public that the man meant to support his new wife. If a widow remarried, some would do so in what was known as a smock wedding. The custom saw the man marrying a woman who was naked or dressed only in a smock. In the 1700s in America, quite of few of these weddings occurred, a left-over custom by those escaping England. The idea was if the woman appeared naked or in her underclothes that it absolved her from anyone collecting upon the woman’s debts or in case of a widow, from collecting upon her late husband’s debts. The idea was that a groom who possessed anything bought by a bride or her deceased husband would possess their indebtedness as well. The smock wedding prevented this situation. When marrying bricklayer Richard Elcock at Bishop’s Waltham in September 1775, it was observed that widow Judith Redding “went into one of the pews in the church, stript herself of all her cloaths except her shift, in which only she went to the altar, and was married, much to the astonishment of the parson, clerk, &c.” [A Survivor’s Guide to a Georgian Wedding]
A Survivor’s Guide to a Georgian Wedding also speaks of the devastating effect on women of being widowed, but also of being deserted by their husbands. If a widow, it was often imperative that the woman wed again. She not only depended upon the good graces of her new husband for her support, but the woman would need his support of any of her children still at home. Having her husband desert her for whatever reason left the woman in limbo (death on the battlefield, a criminal offense, abandonment, etc.).She could not remarry or have legitimate children. If the man chose not to take care of her and provide for her, she could easily fall into poverty and be driven into the workhouse.
RELEASING OCTOBER 31, 2019
Introducing The Heartless Earl: A Common Elements Romance Project Novel …
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 a baron, Lord 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 of the first water. 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, Merritt must quickly learn the baron’s secrets or face a death sentence.
The Common Elements Romance Project includes a variety of authors and genres, as well as settings, each including the same FIVE elements hidden within their novels. Those elements (in no particular order) are…
a Lightning Storm
a Set of Lost Keys
a Haunted House (or the Rumor of Its Being Haunted)
a Stack of Thick Books
a Character Called “Max”
Excerpt: (Sterling and Ebba’s first meeting does not go so well.)
“Where is my grandmother?” Sterling demanded.
Fortunately, her ladyship’s maid waited for him in the common room. He should berate the woman for not attending to her mistress, but he possessed no time for foolish servants.
“This way, my lord.” Alberta led him through the common room and up the stairs.
When the maid held the door for him, he beheld only his grandmother’s fragile form on the bed. Fearing the worst, he rushed to her side, completely oblivious to the nondescript woman seated on the bed’s edge. “I am here, Gram,” he whispered hoarsely as he caressed her cheek. “It is Sterling.”
Her eyes flitted open and then closed again, but she gave him the hint of a smile. Sterling leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
“Did you bring her ladyship’s medication?” a voice behind him demanded.
Sterling reached into his inside pocket and removed the powder packets the physician had provided him. He extended his arm to the side, but his eyes never left his grandmother’s face. “Here.”
“Thank God.” The woman snatched them from his fingers. “Alberta, fetch fresh water and a clean glass.”
“Yes, miss.”
Sterling caught his grandmother’s hand in his. He rubbed it gently between his two. “Do you remember how you used to rub my hands just like this? I was so foolish. I would rush outside to build snowmen and forget my gloves. But you never reprimanded me for being a boy. You would laugh and then tend to my frozen fingertips with the most gentle touch.” He stroked the rheumatic hand with his fingertips. “Gram, Jamie desperately requires your touch as much as I once did. He has no one to love him but we two.”
* * *
Ebba watched in fascination as the earl tended his grandmother. Tears misted her eyes at seeing his gentleness. She had always longed for someone to care for her. Had never known it within her own family. Surprisingly, she felt a twinge of jealousy. What she would not give to have someone’s undeniable devotion. Such had been her dream for as long as she could remember. But the likelihood of such love would ever exist for her. Instead, she must choose a different route: an adventure to fill her days when no one else cared to think upon her.
“Here, miss.” Alberta returned with a fresh ewer of water.
Ebba poured a glass. “What is the dosage?” she said to the earl’s back.
“The whole packet,” he ordered without turning around.
Ebba stirred the powder into the glass to dissolve it. “If you will support her ladyship, sir, I shall spoon in the medicine.”
The earl stood and maneuvered into the tight space where he might lift the countess to a seated position. He braced her against his shoulder and held her head securely in place without Ebba needing to instruct him.
“Countess,” Ebba encouraged. “His lordship has brought your medication, ma’am.” She gently tapped the countess’s chin. “I shall feed you spoonfuls.”
Thankfully, the woman opened her eyes. “Ebba,” she murmured.
“Yes, ma’am. It is Ebba. I am here, and so is your grandson, Lord Merritt. We shall personally see to your care.” She began to spoon in the medicine. After each mouthful, she held the countess mouth closed and waited for the woman to swallow before offering another.
* * *
Sterling dutifully braced his grandmother’s frail body and waited for the woman to tend to his kin. He had thought the stranger unremarkable, but then he had looked upon her face. Heart shaped. Sun kissed skin. Reddish gold hair pulled back in a tight braid. Several strands had worked their way loose and brushed her cheeks and ears with the lightest of wisps and his fingers itched to touch them. The sun streaked across her features, emphasizing the fatigue that marked the lines around her mouth, but it was still a pouty mouth, one begging to be kissed properly. And she sported the bluest eyes he had ever beheld. The sunlight glistened off her eyelashes in flakes of gold, making the blue mesmerizingly enticing. Sterling forgot to breathe as he concentrated on her. Her small breasts pushed against the square neckline of her dress. And desire went straight to his groin. Barely seven hours earlier, he had taken his pleasure in Abbey’s soft and very curvy body, but somehow this was different. This woman did not flaunt her wares.
* * *
Ebba spooned the medication into the countess’s mouth, but she was completely aware of the man who supported Lady Merritt’s back. She could feel his concern for his grandmother. It was fierce. Primitive even. Protection with which she held few personal examples, but thankful to view its existence. From her eye’s corner, she could see his long fingers holding his grandmother’s shoulders. His hands fascinated her. They spoke of strength and love and dependability. Then she foolishly raised her eyes to meet his. Steel-gray. Nearly black. Framed by dark brows. Dark pools so deep, she sat transfixed.
“Is that all, miss? Anything else I should fetch her ladyship?” Alberta asked from somewhere behind Ebba.
She blushed. “That…that should be adequate,” she stammered. She placed the glass and spoon on the end table. “Do you wish to sit up, your ladyship?” She reached to straighten the countess’s clothing.
The earl moved from behind his grandmother. “Here, Gram. Permit me to assist you.” He gently lifted the woman as Alberta adjusted the pillows. Then he sat beside the countess again. “You gave me quite a scare. Thank goodness Lord Brayton knew to come to Baxter Hall.”
His grandmother motioned to the water pitcher, and he poured some in an empty glass before bracing her again so she might sip. Finally, she said, “I suspect Ebba sent the viscount.”
“Ebba?” Lord Merritt turned her. “Would that be you, miss?” She could hear the caution in his tones.
Instinctively, her chin rose in defiance. It appeared that the countess was the exception in the Baxter family. “I am Ebba Mayer, sir.”
He stared at her as if considering her for the first time. “Ah, yes. Lord Brayton mentioned you.” He stood and offered Ebba a bow. “I thank you, ma’am, for your attention to her ladyship. It was most kind of you to give up your travels to remain with the countess.” His words were meant as a dismissal—an arrogant dismissal, at that.
“No, Sterling.” His grandmother reached for his hand. “You do not understand.” She paused to catch her breath. “I have asked.” Pause. “Mrs. Mayer…to be my companion.” Pause. “And I shall provide her…my sponsorship for the Season.”
Lord Merritt stiffened, and he eyed Ebba cautiously. “From the time I returned to London to your departure from Yorkshire, you have made Mrs. Mayer’s acquaintance and taken on her sponsorship?” He stood by the countess’s bed and held her frail hand, but he did not remove his eyes from Ebba. “What might we know of Mrs. Mayer?”
“I know all I need to know, Sterling.” Pause. “Without Ebba, I would not have survived the night,” the countess declared. “Her quick thinking made the difference.”
He replied, “Then the lady has earned my deepest gratitude.” However, his body language spoke of his suspicions. Ebba recognized his critical eye: The earl had assessed her plain clothing and had drawn the conclusion she had taken advantage of his grandmother’s kindness. He said with circumspection, “I believe I will seek a room. At Mrs. Mayer’s suggestion, I have requested the traveling coach. When you have recovered, we will return to London in style.” He squeezed his grandmother’s hand.
Holding silent, Ebba lifted her chin and ignored the earl’s glare. “Alberta, shall you require assistance with her ladyship’s needs?”
“No, miss. I can attend the countess.”
“Then I shall freshen my things. I shall order a tray, Lady Merritt,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Let us see if you can eat something.” Ebba started toward the door.
As she expected he would do, the earl followed. “May I have a word, Mrs. Mayer?” He caught her elbow and directed her to the hallway, politely closing the door behind him. Then he guided her along the passage. “Which is yours?”
She pulled up, breaking his hold. “I am afraid, sir, that despite my affection for your grandmother, I shall not entertain you in my chambers.”
Surprisingly, he reached for her again, jerking her into his body. “When I ask for something, Mrs. Mayer, I am not in the habit of being denied,” he hissed.
In bold disobedience, she stared intensely in his eyes, her pure fury unmistakable. “I would have thought you had had your pleasure satisfied already today,” she challenged.
Lord Merritt set his mouth in a tight line. “Explain, Mrs. Mayer.”
Undaunted, she accused, “Even after riding for hours across the English countryside, you still reek of your ladybird.” She could not disguise the look of triumph from her features when he reacted to her charge. His cheeks knew a slight flush of color.
“How does a genteel lady even know the word ladybird?” He gave her a little shake to emphasize his point.
Despite being held awkwardly against him, Ebba straightened her shoulders. “First, I never claimed sophisticated breeding,” she declared. “I am but a gentleman’s daughter and a squire’s sister; yet, I can attest neither ever came home from a night with their women, clothes rumpled, unshaven, and covered with the scent of a woman’s perfume. I suppose I should have pretended not to notice, but acting was never my strong point.” She braced herself for his retort.
The earl gritted his teeth in what appeared to be frustration. “Ours is not a conversation I care to have in this dark passageway,” he growled, but then swallowed his next remark before saying more calmly, “You will join me, Mrs. Mayer, in the inn’s private room for supper.”
His demand had surprised her, and she found herself saying, “As you wish, Lord Merritt. Now if you will pardon me, I wish to freshen my clothing before returning to your grandmother’s care.” Defiantly, she broke his grasp and strode away.
GIVEAWAY: I HAVE 2 eBOOK COPIES OF “THE HEARTLESS EARL” AVAILABLE TO THOSE WHO COMMENT BELOW. THE GIVEAWAY WILL END AT MIDNIGHT EST ON OCTOBER 22, 2019. The prizes will be awarded when the book releases.
HMS Acasta: August 2013 http://www.hmsacasta.com A Gentleman’s guide to staying out of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.
Press gangs operated in England from medieval times, but during the war years the “tradition” was increased. In fact, the pressing of free men into military service was considered a royal prerogative. Pressgangs claimed many innocents who stumbled into the wrong area. Men were taken against their will from streets and country roads. They were captured through violence and placed onboard ship, bound and caged, until the ship left port. No one knows how many of Great Britain’s sailors were “pressed” into service. Not all who sailed upon British ships were countrymen. Some were Americans or those taken from the West Indies. The taken men were often wounded in their struggles. Many died from a lack of treatment.
“The class on whom it fell, however, found little sympathy from society. They were rogues and vagabonds, who were held to be better employed in defence of their country, than in plunder and mendicancy. During the American war, impressment was permitted in the case of all idle and disorderly persons, not following any lawful trade or having some substance sufficient for their maintenance. Such men were seized upon, without compunction, and hurried to the war. It was a dangerous license, repugnant to the free spirit of our laws; and, in later times, the state has trusted to bounties and the recruiting sergeant, and not to impressment, — for strengthening its land forces.” – The constitutional history of England since the accession of George Third, 1760-1860, Volume 2 (Google eBook), Thomas Erskine May, 1866, pp. 261-262.
We must recall that there was no organized police force to protect the men upon the street or to investigate a family’s report of a missing relative. Even those who served their duty were not “free” an additional impressment. Some men were recaptured and placed on another ship.
“Impressment was restricted by law to seamen, who, being most needed for the fleet, chiefly suffered from the violence of the press-gangs. They were taken on the coast, or seized on board merchant ships, like criminals: ships at sea were rifled of their crews, and left without sufficient hands to take them safely into port. Nay, we even find soldiers employed to assist the pressgangs: villages invested by a regular force: sentries standing with fixed bayonets; and churches surrounded, during divine service, to seize seamen for the fleet.
The lawless press-gangs were no respecters of persons. In vain did apprentices and landsmen claim exemption. They were skulking sailors in disguise, or would make good seamen at the first scent of salt-water; and were carried off to the sea ports. Press-gangs were the terror of citizens and apprentices in London, of laborers in villages, and of artisans in the remotest inland towns. Their approach was dreaded like the invasion of a foreign enemy. To escape their swoop, men forsook their trades and families and fled, — or armed themselves for resistance. Their deeds have been recounted in history, in fiction, and in song. Outrages were of course deplored; but the navy was the pride of England, and every one agreed that it must be recruited. In vain were other means suggested for manning the fleet, — higher wages, limited service, and increased pensions. Such schemes were doubtful expedients: the navy could not be hazarded: press-gangs must still go forth and execute their rough commission, or England would be lost. And so impressment prospered. – The constitutional history of England since the accession of George Third, 1760-1860, Volume 2 (Google eBook), Thomas Erskine May, 1866, pp. 261-262.
Impressment – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia en.wikipedia.org
William Pitt brought in a Quota Act in 1795. This act stated how many men each shire was to provide for service. Men convicted of a crime resulting in imprisonment could choose between prison or service in the British Navy. This act reduced the practice of impressment, but during the Napoleonic Wars, stealing men from the streets to press into service still existed. With the end of the Napoleonic Wars, the practice died out.
I used pressgangs as a plot point in my award-winning mystery, The Prosecution of Mr. Darcy’s Cousin.
This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on August 15, 2019.
What Elizabeth Bennet’s life would have been like once she became Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley is the subject of a good many Austen variations out there, and it’s been something I’ve been considering recently as I work on Anne de Bourgh’s Diary, a story which commences on the day of Elizabeth and Darcy’s wedding. Though Lizzy was lucky enough to have Mrs. Reynolds, an extremely experienced housekeeper, to help her, there would still have been tasks she would have had to take on herself as the new mistress of Pemberley.
Of course, Elizabeth was ‘the daughter of a gentleman’, from an estate which, while small in comparison to Pemberley, still kept servants and maintained a high standard of living. Mrs. Bennet was particularly scornful of Charlotte Lucas being ‘wanted about the mince pies’, stating that “I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up very differently.” Presumably Lizzy and the other Bennet daughters learned from their mother how to instruct servants, and upgrading to Pemberley would really be more a matter of scale than a whole new skill set to learn.
Still, it got me thinking; what exactly would the mistress of Pemberley’s duties be? Research is a rabbit hole I can disappear down forever, but I honestly believe it’s always time well spent. Everything I learn might not make its way into any version of the story, but background knowledge is always useful. And though it’s a little late for the time period in which most Austen variations and continuations take place, hands-down the best reference I know of is Isabella Beeton’s The Book of Household Management. Originally a series of articles in The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine, it was first published as a book in 1861, and went through a series of revisions and expansions. An edition of the book is still in print today, but as a reference book, I prefer the original. You can get it for free in various e-formats at theGutenberg Project website, and I highly recommend it as a resource for seeing just how the middle and upper class would have lived and what they would have eaten in the first half of the 19th century.
If you’d like to see complete issues of The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine, seethis pagefor some links. Quite a few issues are digitized for online viewing.
There’s a lot of controversy over Mrs’ Beeton’s work, not least in part because large chunks of it were plagiarized from other people. I was readingThe Magazine of Domestic Economy(1936) and almost the entire section about spring-cleaning has clearly been lifted straight from that to The Book of Household Management. Most if not all of Beeton’s recipes were first published in other places as well, but the fact remains that her book is one of the best places to find all the information in one spot… and a) she’s long dead and no longer benefiting from royalties anyway, and b) the book’s free. let’s just say that Isabella and her husband were more the collators of information than the creators of it, and move on. 😀
While Mrs. Beeton’s book includes a great many directions for managing a household, and the roles of both mistress and housekeeper, it’s actually largely known as a cookbook. I find it fascinating to look at the recipes used and what cooks considered standard at different periods in history, and intensely frustrating when authors get things wrong – the Potato Paradox is one that seems to trip up so many writing in the Middle Ages and earlier, since potatoes are a New World crop and didn’t appear in Europe at all until after Columbus’ voyages to the Americas, it drives me round the bend when Robin Hood and the Merry Men are tucking into some nice jacket potatoes cooked in the fire ashes along with their spit-roasted haunch of venison!
(Yes, I’ve really seen that in a book. No, I’m not going to name the author here.)
As I remarked before, Mrs. Beeton’s seminal work was published in 1861, so it’s really a bit ‘late’ for the purposes of researching what Austen’s characters would have eaten, and especially how their food would have been prepared, since the technology of cooking stoves took a pretty major leap forward in the Victorian era. My favourite resource for investigating food through the ages is theFood Timeline, and from this I followed a link toThe Cook and Housewife’s Manual(1826) by Margaret Dods. Careful; though there are links to books which fit more precisely in the Austen period of 1800 – 1820, they’re published in the US and the food would have been quite different to what would have appeared on an English table of the time.
I love to cook, so I’m planning on doing some experimentation with some of the recipes from the Dods book. Though I don’t think I could bring myself to ‘dress a calf’s head’ – even if I could get hold of one, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t convince anyone in my family to eat it – there are lots that sound good. I’m definitely going to try this one, for example, though I might cheat a bit when it comes to beating the eggs by hand!
This state portrait of Queen Victoria by George Hayter (detail), shows her wearing the new Imperial State Crown “expressly made for the solemnity of the Coronation” by Rundell, Bridge & Co., with 3,093 gems. George Hayter – http://www.gac. culture.gov.uk/ search/Object.asp?object_key=29134 – Public Domain
In Elizabeth Bennet Excellent Adventure, I had the need to discover something of the jewelry trade during the Regency Era. Rundle & Bridge were considered jewelers for the ton after 1805. Remember that if one had money, the Regency was an era of custom-made jewelry. So while some might browse a few pieces made up, it’s more likely that person would view some drawings and the stones and have something made to order. Even heirloom sets were often reworked and remade to suit fashion.
Hoopman Rare Art tells up something of Philip Rundell: “Son of Thomas Rundell doctor of Widcombe Bath, born 1743. Apprenticed to William Rodgers jeweller of Bath on payment of £20. Arrived in London, 1767 or 1769, as a shopman to Theed and Pickett, Ludgate Hill, at a salary of £20 p.a.. Made partner with Picket in 1772 and acquired sole ownership of the business in 1785-6. Took John Bridge into partnership in 1788 and his nephew Edmund Walter Rundell by 1803, the firm being styled Rundell Bridge and Rundell from 1805. Appointed Goldsmith and Jeweller to the King in 1797, due it is said, to George III’s acquaintanceship with John Bridge’s relative, a farmer near Weymouth. He took Paul Storr into working partnership in 1807, an arrangement that lasted until 1819, when the latter gained independence. Only then was Rundell’s mark entered as plateworker, 4th March, 1819. Address: 76 Dean Street, Soho, (the workshop). In 1823 John Bridge enters his first mark and it seems probable therefore that it was about this time that Rundell retired. He did not die however until 1827, leaving his fortune of 1.25 million to his nephew Joseph Neeld.”
Philip Rundell headed up a silver manufacturing company. Jewelry of every type (watches, rings, necklaces, custom-made items) filled his shop at number 32 on Ludgate Hill. Rundell was an apprentice to a jeweler in Bath before arriving in London in the mid 1700s. He worked for many years at Theed and Pickett, Jewelers and Goldsmiths. Eventually, he made partner with the group and later (1785) purchased the shop, which was to bear his name.
John Bridge became Rundell’s partner soon afterwards. Through a connection of a cousin, Bridge soon earned the notice of King George III. Soon, Rundell and Bridge were known as “Jewelers and Goldsmiths to the King.” The business received royal warrants from George IV and Frederick, Duke of York.
To learn more of the other partners and designers associated with Rundell, Bridge, and Rundell, please see this post on the Georgian Index. It contains fabulous images of some of the most important pieces created by the firm, including “The Shield of Achilles,” designed for George IV’s coronation.
You might also find this source of interest if you are doing research on the time or on commerce.
Rundell, Bridge and Rundell – An Early Company History Robert W. Lovett Bulletin of the Business Historical Society Vol. 23, No. 3 (Sep., 1949), pp. 152-162 Published by: The President and Fellows of Harvard College DOI: 10.2307/3111183 Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3111183 Page Count: 11
This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on August 16, 2019. Enjoy!
Recently I came across the meme below and I was shocked. So shocked, in fact, that I gasped.
What’s that you say? You gasped too? OK, but perhaps not for the same reason. 🙂 While many a female heart has fluttered at the sight of Colin Firth/Fitwilliam Darcy in a wet shirt, I was shocked at the idea that Fitzwilliam Darcy couldn’t swim. What? Georgian men generally didn’t swim? I thought I knew a lot about the Regency period, but this was a new one on me. Naturally I had to investigate this claim. The fact that during my research I would inevitably come across many more images of Darcy in a wet shirt was just a bonus. Honest!
So it turns out that the answer to, “Could Regency period gentlemen swim?” and more specifically, “Could Darcy swim?” is not completely clear cut. A person could make a good argument either way.
It turns out that in the days leading up to the Regency period, swimming was done as much for hygiene as for recreation. In an era when bath water had to be hauled inside a house, heated up on a stove, and then carried laboriously to a tub somewhere, it made sense for gentlemen to skinny dip in the great outdoors whenever circumstances and the weather permitted. The problem was, circumstances and weather did not permit. Most gentlemen spent a lot of time in urbanized areas such as London, where ready access to a pond or river simply wasn’t to be had. And, of course, having no access to a large body of water made it pretty difficult to learn to swim.
To be sure, many English men and women went to Bath to “take the waters,” meaning that they drank the water from the mineral springs and/or immersed themselves in them. But that was just sitting and soaking in the hot water, not swimming. Also, we know that sea bathing was a popular activity for both men and women of the well to do classes, but whether the people bathing in the sea were actually swimming or just wading andsplashing about is not clear.
Besides this, swimming in the great outdoors required a man to get, well, naked. And being naked in the great outdoors was just such a non-English thing to do. People in warm climates, especially exotic “heathen” locations, might frolic in the water with barely a stitch of clothing, but Englishmen were not heathens, thank you very much. sniff A proper Englishman would simply not be so exposed in front of strangers. He especially would not be so undignified in front of his social inferiors. If he did go in the water “au natural” it was likely to be in a secluded setting where he could let his hair down, so to speak, in private. So I think Darcy would have been very unlikely to go skinny dipping while in town.
For all of these reasons even most English sailors did not know how to swim. They were doomed to panic and drown if they fell overboard. The ones who did learn how to swim usually learned while visiting one of those exotic “heathen” ports.
Yet there were definitely some gentlemen in Regency England who learned how to swim. Not everyone avoided the water. We have a book written by the Englishman Everard Digby in 1587, who published a detailed manual, complete with illustrations, showing various swimming strokes and techniques. We also know that students at Cambridge hired “watermen” to watch them while they swam. The job of the watermen was, in essence, to jump in and rescue any young man who was in obvious distress. Clearly the watermen themselves had to be excellent swimmers, and some of their charges would have been as well. Finally, there is a charming story of Benjamin Franklin visiting England as a young man and teaching two friends there how to swim in the Thames. Before he returned to America, Franklin gave a swimming demonstration in Chelsea that both amazed anddelighted his onlookers.
Darcy fans should be aware that in the 1700’s the extremely posh boys’ schools of Eton and Harrow decided their students should learn how to swim, both to avoid potential drownings and for the obvious health benefits. They designated “bathing” areas outdoors and encouraged their charges to participate. So if Darcy attended either of these elite institutions he was at least exposed (pardon the pun!) to the activity.
So, did Darcy know how to swim? Did that famous scene in the 1995 film have any possible basis in real life? Or would Darcy have sunk like a stone if he ever ventured into deep water?
Taking all the evidence into consideration, I think it is very possible that Darcy knew how to swim. He had access to swimming areas at Pemberley and was most likely encouraged in the activity while he was away at school. Being an upper class gentleman, he also had time to devote to learning the necessary skills. I like to think that he might even have helped the timid Georgiana enter the waters and try her hand. (There is at least one JAFF out there where this is a key part of the plot!) Most importantly, as the lord of the manor Darcy could swim in privacy, not worrying about ever being caught in an awkward position by unexpected visitors. At least, until a certain young lady from Hertfordshire showed up without warning. 🙂
But above all, this is Fitzwilliam Darcy we’re talking about, a man among men. Strong, handsome, and virile, knowledgeable on every subject, a superb fencer, a skilled equestrian, and the love of Elizabeth Bennet’s life. OF COURSE he knew how to swim! Or at least he knew how to look good in a wet shirt. 🙂
What do you think? Would Darcy sink or swim in that wonderful lake scene? Let me know in your comments below!
Special thank you to the Jane Austen Centre for allowing use of their meme here!
Dan Stevens as Edward Ferrars, 2008
Meet Alexa Adams ~ A devoted reader of Jane Austen since her childhood, Alexa Adams is the author of The Madness of Mr. Darcy, Tales of Less Pride and Prejudice (First Impressions, Second Glances, and Holidays at Pemberley), Emma & Elton: Something Truly Horrid, Jane & Bingley: Something Slightly Unsettling, Becoming Mrs. Norris, and the short story collection And Who Can be in Doubt of What Followed?: The Novels of Jane Austen Continued. Alexa resides in Delaware with her husband, daughter, and cat. She blogs about Austen and Austenesque literature at alexaadams.blogspot.com and is a contributing member of AustenAuthors.net.
Share a quirky fact from your research.
Charmed Against All Odds
This is not a post based on Jane Austen and her writing or on the Regency Period in England as you would customarily find on my blog. Rather it is a a moment in time when I stood witness to the true human spirit, and like so many others, I must speak of it. November 14 is the anniversary of one of the most tragic events I ever experienced, and I hope you will allow me to take you into my life, and by doing so, you will understand more of what makes me the person I am, as well as comprehend why I look to the simplicity of reading and writing romance for my release. When I think back to the moments in my life, which defined me as a person, one I must choose is my senior year in college. I attended Marshall University in Huntington, West Virginia.
As a footnote to my tale, I would also like to point you to a book on the tragedy, but one written by a man NOT on that fateful flight. 
November Ever After: A Memoir of Tragedy and Triumph in the Wake of the 1970 Marshall Football Plane Crash
JACKSON SHAW, the Marquess of Rivens, never considered the “gypsy blessing” presented to his family during the time of Henry VIII truly a blessing. He viewed it more as a curse. According to the “blessing,” in his thirtieth year, at the Christmas ball hosted by his family, he was to choose a wife among the women attending. The catch was he possessed no choice in the matter. His wife was to be the one who proved herself to be his perfect match, according to the gypsy’s provisions: a woman who would bring prosperity to his land by her love of nature and her generous heart. In his opinion, none of the women vying for his hand appeared to care for anything but themselves. 
Heck, even Disney and Pixar are getting in on the idea of the dead returning. 
Vampire Darcy’s Desire: A Pride and Prejudice Paranormal Adventure 
Marriage, whether it was rushed or planned for months on end, was a very public affair, one designed not only to announce the ceremony, but to assure the public that the man meant to support his new wife. If a widow remarried, some would do so in what was known as a smock wedding. The custom saw the man marrying a woman who was naked or dressed only in a smock. In the 1700s in America, quite of few of these weddings occurred, a left-over custom by those escaping England. The idea was if the woman appeared naked or in her underclothes that it absolved her from anyone collecting upon the woman’s debts or in case of a widow, from collecting upon her late husband’s debts. The idea was that a groom who possessed anything bought by a bride or her deceased husband would possess their indebtedness as well. The smock wedding prevented this situation. 
I used pressgangs as a plot point in my award-winning mystery, The Prosecution of Mr. Darcy’s Cousin. 
Every Woman Dreams... 