Marine Parade, Brighton,
31st August 1814 Dearest Emily,
Today I shall not be present at Donaldson’s for the teatime meeting. It is a great pity when the weather is so mild and the sea is calm. However, Lady Fording is fatigued and so we must remain quietly at home. She won quite a large sum at cards last night, and continued playing longer than usual, encouraged by her success. I do love her for being such a sprightly old lady. And she is very kind to me, but even so, I cannot tell her anything about the Events of last night, even though it is thanks to her that I had the means to escape a Horrid Fate.
Emily, you swore you would keep anything I told you a Secret and so I will share what happened with you. Let me begin from the moment when that odious Mrs Chetwynd interrupted our little gathering at the Castle Tavern last night. By the by, did you see how low cut her gown was? If she had so much as sneezed…! She took me into the other salon, into an alcove and [I shudder as I write his name] that horrible roué, Sir Bilton Kelly, was there, with his dissipated face and oily manner. Between the pair of them, they thought they had me trapped, so that I would submit to being taken to the Prince Regent’s private party, which they kept insisting I must do.
 |
| The Castle Tavern, [digital image owned by the Society of Brighton Print Collectors] |
My dear Lord Longwood had warned me repeatedly against accepting any such invitation, and indeed, I was very Angry, but could not push my way out of that narrow alcove with Mrs Chetwynd blocking the way. It was most humiliating to see that many people in the room were watching, some more discreetly than others. And, oh, thankfully, at the far end of the room was Lord Longwood. He noted the general silence and turned in my direction. Lady Fording has been instructing me in the language of the fan, and so, even though my hands were shaking [with anger, not fright, you understand], I hastily took mine in my hand, waved it, then snapped it shut, laying a finger on the top of the sticks. That signals ‘I wish to speak with you’, and Lord Longwood understood.
At once, he made his way over toward me. Mrs Chetwynd was angry and tried to distract him, but he ignored her. When Sir Bilton Kelly blustered, he stared at him through his eyeglass in a truly Terrifying manner. Then he offered me his arm and so I made my escape. Once we reached the hallway, my knees began to shake. You know how Lord Longwood’s face goes dark when he scowls, and his black hair falls over his forehead. He assured me he was not angry with me and suggested we should take a turn along the path up towards the Pavilion and back, so I might compose myself.
In his company I soon felt calmer. But then he announced that he would be leaving Brighton today to return to London. That made my heart sink into my boots, for he is always so kind and helpful towards me and, as you have suspected, I do love him with all my heart. On an impulse I begged him to kiss me goodbye. But I asked for a proper kiss. He was shocked and then, his face changed, those wonderful green eyes glowed and he did, indeed kiss me. In those moments, I went to heaven. But now I am Wretched, for I want more of those sensations. Oh, Emily, I depend on you to support me through the next days as I struggle to appear calm. At least, until we can meet for a conversation, I have my copy of Lord Byron’s Corsair, to divert my mind from its sorrows. Truly, Emily, I cannot decide if being in love is a blessing or a curse.
Your friend, Anna
after getting caught in a passionate embrace, Rose is whisked away in disgrace. She hears no more from Tom, and accepts the marriage her family arranged for her. Soon widowed, she travels to Egypt with her aunt and uncle, keen antiquarians. As Rose is a fine artist, her drawings are most useful to them.
Fleeing a sudden uprising in Cairo, Rose, with her sister and her aunt, arrives in Constantinople, and they go to the British Embassy for help.
To Rose's horror, there she comes face to face with Tom. 😨
Tom has two days to complete his top secret report for the Sultan. The last thing he needs is for three Englishwomen to arrive, wanting his help, especially when one of them is Rose, the girl he's been trying to forget.... 😩
As they glare at each other and the air vibrates hostility, enter Kerim Pasha, the powerful and handsome chief minister. Smitten by Rose's English beauty [and also being a most courteous gentleman] he whisks the ladies away to his luxurious mansion for their safety and comfort.
In the early years of the 19th Century
In 1810, Lord Byron and his friend John Cam Hobhouse arrived in Constantinople. During their stay, they accompanied the British Ambassador on a formal visit to the Sultan, Mahmud II. Hobhouse later wrote that the Sultan, dressed in yellow satin, his milk-white hands ‘glittering with diamond rings’, had an ‘air of indescribable majesty’.
This was confirmed by the wife of the retiring British Ambassador, Robert Adair. She had attended the ceremony, disguised as a man.
Many thanks to Sasha at Joffe Books, for this graphic. This week I'm enjoying my travels around Regency England through my Regency tales, as the Guest Hostess at Lady Catherine's Salon on Facebook.
These titles published on Kindle by JOFFE BOOKS
together with two new stories.
as ebooks, with updated covers.
HAVING FAITH IN MY REGENCY TALES.
 |
Mr
Cheadle braced himself. ‘Now
we will inspect Lady Eleanor’s bequest. As the only daughter of the Earl of
Danestree, she possessed a most valuable collection of jewellery. Some items,
indeed, should only be worn when security is very tight.’ He shook his head,
adjusted his spectacles, which had slipped down his nose, and at last began to
draw the interesting boxes out from the chest.
As
he opened one velvet case after another, all three ladies exclaimed in
admiration and delight at the sparkling jewels. There were several formal
parures, including one of rubies and diamonds, and another of emeralds,
together with an emerald tiara.
Aunt
Sophie pressed a hand to her lips. ‘Oh, I remember her wearing that tiara and
that superb emerald collar at Court.’
‘Superb?’
Sophie giggled. ‘It’s terribly ornate. Poor Aunt Eleanor. How uncomfortable.
And so old-fashioned.’
‘Emeralds
would not become you,’ announced Aunt Sophie, ‘but those pink topaz girandole
earrings would be perfect.’
Sophie
agreed. In addition to several more necklaces, there were a number of rings,
bracelets and earrings, as well as a leather case full of rose-cut diamond
brooches and pendants. These gems flashed with the fire of the purest stones,
causing all three ladies to gasp in admiration.
‘Those
were worn as decoration on the bodice of the old-style court gowns,’ observed
Aunt Sophie, picking one up and turning it to admire the play of light on the
jewels. ‘Completely out of fashion now, of course, but it is no great matter to
have the gems reset in a modern style.’ She frowned. ‘I seem to remember my
sister-in-law had a pair of diamond shoe buckles. What happened to – oh, there
they are.’
She
inspected them through her lorgnette. ‘Yes, these are the ones. It was rare to
have real diamond buckles, was it not, Mr Cheadle?’
‘Allow me to place everything in two piles,
according to Lady Eleanor’s will,’ said Mr Cheadle firmly, ‘Then you young
ladies may select what you wish to take for now and I can return the other
items to the vault for safekeeping.’
Watching the lawyer set out the various cases and boxes
before her, Nell could scarcely breathe. This was her one chance to get money
for her escape. She must select something of great value while not arousing
suspicion.
It
was difficult to keep her hands from trembling while she examined several sets
of gems, eventually picking out a pretty necklace of pink rock crystal and seed
pearls, with matching girandole earrings. Aunt Sophie nodded approvingly. Nell
fiddled with brooches and earrings, examining them one after the other slowly,
until Aunt Sophie turned her attention back to Sophie, who was hesitating
between an aquamarine pendant and a delicate necklace of diamonds and pearls. While
they were deciding, Nell added a pair of pearl bracelets and one of the massive
diamond brooches to her selection.
Her aunt tut-tutted. ‘That diamond piece is far too big
to suit modern dress.’
‘If I decide on my almond green gown, I’d want diamonds,
not coloured stones,’ said Nell, willing her voice to sound calm. ‘This brooch
can be unhooked, and turn into two smaller ones, see.’ She separated it to
demonstrate. ‘Exactly what I need for the occasion.’ She gazed coolly from her
aunt to Mr Cheadle. He bowed his head politely, though his eyes were anguished.
That told her the diamonds were truly valuable.
Sophie, bless her, drew the attention away by asking with
a laugh, ‘Nell, perhaps you’d like to borrow my diamond buckles to complete
your outfit.’
Later, as she inspected her new treasures, Nell gave silent thanks to Aunt Eleanor. Her heart soared. A couple of those diamonds would surely sell for enough to pay for her journey to France, and allow her some much needed money in her pocket. It will transform my life. She drew out Joachim’s little disc and kissed it. Not much longer now, my darling.
From 'A Lady's Honour'
Note : the jewellery shown is for sale at prices that would still make Nell very wealthy today.
A little stone house on a hillside surrounded by fields of neatly combed vines, stretching down into the valley and across the plain to the Canal du Midi. A few ribbons of trees, marking the roads; here and there the rooftop of a farm in the midst of its vineyards. So rural, so peaceful, such a splendid change after years slogging in a grey city in rainwashed northern England.
But even rural retreats under a sparkling blue sky have their dark secrets, along with their traditional way of life. An outsider, especially a pretty woman, will have to contend with difficulties of many kinds.
The plot came to me easily enough. I know the area well, love the climate, the people, the pace of life. My characters rushed to join the story. Haha, I thought, so for this tale, my plot flows. [That doesn't happen to me often.]
But five chapters in, the characters take over. They won't give way, so it's back to pantsing. My villain has become a victim. My pleasure-loving young dude has joined the really bad gang. And a third guy has suddenly appeared [univited by me] and started hanging round my MC. OK, I know, it is the south of France, and he's full of charm but my original two fellows were already creating enough action.
Banging my head on the desk isn't sorting things out. My only consolation for now is my new villain. He's so 'orrible it's fun to write him. So, onwards and upwards, imagining I'm there in the summer sunshine, on a terrace with a glass of muscat as the sky darkens into a canopy of velvet and the evening air is a caress.
