Search This Blog

Tuesday 23 December 2014

Guest Post: Countess Bathory – Between legend and fact

My guest post today is from the lovely Melinda De Ross, a new author.  Whilst her romance is in a contemporary setting, she has needed to get under the skin of the Renaissance character, Madame Erzebet Bathory. She has been kind enough to share that research for my blog page! 

Handing over to Melinda and a bit about her story first!  


 


In the legendary Transylvania, a castle belonging to Countess Erzsébet Báthory is discovered. Cameraman Hunter Cole and broadcast journalist Serena Scott arrive to make a documentary about the discovery, and the sinister Hungarian noblewoman, known as the most prolific female serial killer in history. 

The two Americans could cope with roughing it in a fifteenth-century castle, with no modern amenities. They can even cope with each other, despite their initial mutual dislike for one another, which gradually turns into a smoldering attraction. 

But when two girls are tortured and killed in Báthory copycat style, the nearby village is shaken to the core. In terror, they wonder who will be next...

the only known portrait of the notorious countess...


Ever since I’ve heard about Erzsébet Báthory, I was fascinated by this sinister character who, even in times when cruelty was far from unusual, still managed to stand out. I did a lot of research on what was fact and what was legend about The Blood Countess, and decided to weave a romance which has as a starting point The Countess and a fictional castle belonging to her. This is what I have gathered from my research.

Erzsébet Báthory (1560-1614) is a known historical figure and was a Hungarian countess, also known as Elizabeth Báthory, The Blood Countess or Countess Dracula. She has been labeled the most prolific serial killer in history, being responsible for the torture and murder of hundreds of young girls. The exact number of her victims is unknown, but is estimated at six hundred and fifty. It is speculated that she kept a diary with the names of all her victims, but if such a document exists, it has never been made public.
She was born on the 7th of August 1560 into a very powerful family of nobility in the Kingdom of Hungary. When she was very young, she learned Latin, German and Greek. When she became a teenager, she already was one of the most educated women of her time. At fifteen she married Ferenc Nádasdy, the son of a baron, in what was a political arrangement within the circles of the aristocracy. Nádasdy's wedding gift to Báthory was his home, Csejte Castle, situated in the Little Carpathians.
In 1578, Nádasdy became the chief commander of several Hungarian troops, leading them to war against the Ottomans. Since then, Erzsébet’s husband was mostly away from home, leaving the management of business affairs and the estates to his wife. That role usually included responsibility for the Hungarian and Slovak people, even providing medical care. For the duration of the Long War, Erzsébet was charged with the defense of her husband's estates, which lay on the route to Vienna. The threat was significant, for the village of Csejte had previously been plundered by the Ottomans.
Báthory and Nádasdy didn’t have any children for the first ten years of their marriage. In 1585, Erzsébet gave birth to a daughter, Anna, who died some time after 1605. After that, she had another two daughters and two sons. There were rumors that she had her first daughter when she was only thirteen and became impregnated by a servant. It is said she was sent away to have the child. Her fiancé—for Nádasdy wasn’t yet her husband— had the boy castrated, then thrown to a pack of dogs.
Between 1602 and 1604, after rumors of Báthory's atrocities had spread throughout the kingdom, Lutheran minister István Magyari made complaints against her, both publicly and at the court in Vienna. The Hungarian authorities took some time to respond to Magyari's complaints. Finally, in 1610, King Mathias II assigned György Thurzó, the Palatine of Hungary, to investigate. Thurzó ordered two notaries to collect evidence in March 1610. In 1610 and 1611, the notaries collected testimonies from more than three hundred witnesses. The trial records include the testimonies of the four defendants—Báthory and three of her servants—as well as thirteen witnesses. Priests, noblemen and commoners were questioned. Witnesses included the castellan and other personnel of Sárvár castle.
According to all testimonies, Báthory's initial victims were the adolescent daughters of local peasants, many of whom were lured to Csejte by offers of well-paid work as maidservants in the castle. Later, she is said to have begun to kill daughters of the lesser gentry, who were sent to her gynaeceum by their parents to learn courtly etiquette. Abductions were said to have occurred as well. The atrocities described most consistently included severe beatings, burning or mutilation of hands, biting the flesh off the faces, arms and other body parts, freezing or starving to death. The collaborators in court also mentioned the use of needles. Some witnesses named relatives who died while at the gynaeceum. Others reported having seen traces of torture on dead bodies, some of which were buried in graveyards, and others in unmarked locations. Two witnesses actually saw The Countess torture and kill young servant girls. According to the testimony of the defendants, Erzsébet Báthory tortured and killed her victims not only at Csejte, but also on her other properties.
If Báthory hadn’t come from such an important family, she would have most certainly been tortured and burned alive. There was no doubt about her guilt, because at the time of her arrest several dead and dying girls were found in the castle. Because of her family’s influence, there was a closed-door trial, where over three hundred witnesses testified. The exact number of her victims remains unknown, but even though the official count based upon evidence of the tortured bodies is around eighty, in a second part of the trial, a newly discovered register was entered as evidence, suggesting there could have been as many as six hundred and fifty victims. Báthory was imprisoned in Čachtice Castle. She was kept bricked in a set of rooms, with only small slits left open for ventilation and the passing through of food. She remained there for four years, until her death. On August 24th 1614, a guard looked through one of the slots and observed Erzsébet Báthory lying dead face-down on the floor. Since there were several plates of food untouched, the actual date of death is unknown. She was buried in the church of Csejte, but due to the villagers' uproar over having ‘The Tigress of Csejte’ buried in their cemetery, her body was moved to her birth home at Ecsed, where it was interred at the Báthory family crypt.
 

Find Melinda's book HERE


A horribly fascinating woman, thanks Melinda!  those of you who are familiar with my FanFiction writing might recall a certain Erzebet Cerny at Durmstrang, and now you know why I chose her first name, as I rarely use names without a lot of thought! 

Friday 28 November 2014

I did it! I did NaNoWriMo!

I decided that this year I WOULD do NaNoWriMo, National November Writers' Month.  The goal, 50k words in a month.
I started with 20,166 completed, from 21st Oct to 31st October, and this morning, 28th November, I completed the novel in its first draft to 72, 565 words.  52, 349 in November so a qualifier!


And this is the probable look of the cover:

Synopsis

Edward Brandon discovers that Amelia Hazelgrove, the lady he had planned to marry is not interested when it seems that he is no longer heir to a barony, and swears to marry the first woman who does something for nothing for him.  This turns out to be his young aunt's companion Beth, who has been in love with Edward for some time.  Aunt Letty believes that Edward only needs time to fall in love with Beth, and arranges for her to have a Season, with Edward's rash proposal kept secret.
Circumstances make Edward an eligible parti again to Amelia, and she plots to regain Edward as her devoted suitor, if necessary by arranging to have Beth removed from the scene by a known rake.
Edward and his lady are re-united after a few adventures and with an unexpected tangle with a sweep and his youthful apprentice.

Right, so now it goes through the ruthless editing of my readers.... and maybe by the New Year it might be making an appearence on my bookshelf....

Monday 24 November 2014

What I am up to and Civil War Plot bunny with 17th century name research....

What I'm up to is using NaNoWriMo to get back to writing, which doesn't mean I will even bother to sign up but it gives me a kickstart.  I started 21st October on a plot bunny that's been on the back burner, in which my hero is told to get lost by the girl he thought he loved, because he is no longer heir to a barony.  He swears to marry the first woman who does something for him for nothing.
Engaged subsequently to his aunt's companion, circumstances make him the heir again, and a certain little madam is plotting, her nose put out of joint by Edward's apparent unconcern at her heart-breaking. 
I've got 64,212 words so far, having done just on 20k when November started, which means to qualify for NaNo I need another nearly 6k words, but it doesn't matter that much as I'm on the homeward stretch and know what I'm doing.
I haven't forgotten Elinor's Endowment and will finish that next month.
I haven't forgotten Jane and Caleb and have been planning their next adventure.
I haven't forgotten William Price and will get around to finishing the book I started.
Felicia and Robin are waiting for me to do a cover. 

The new series plot bunny is set in the Civil War, and I mean THE Civil War, not that little affair the Americans had.  Actually, strictly speaking it's our third civil war, as there was The Anarchy [Stephen and Maud] and the Wars of the Roses before the Cavaliers [wrong but wromantic] and Roundheads [right but repulsive].
Now everyone I've spoken to has assumed I planned a puritan maid and a cavalier hero.
Wrong.
My heroine is a cavalier woman, married and about to be widowed, which is a good thing as her husband is a waste of space, and a Parliamentarian colonel.  He isn't religiously fanatical, he just believes in the rule of parliament, and actually comes from a Catholic family as he's a descendant of Robin and Felicia.  Why not?  Keep it in the family.  She is a frivolous piece and can do ditsy very well 'because she knows it teases'.
They meet through him requisitioning her house and lands for his troops to recuperate after a battle, and when one of his officers is murdered he works with her to find out whether this has a deeper motive than just being 'the enemy' and discovers that there is a lot going on under the surface.    I kill her husband at some point after they've discovered chemistry so there's a touch of guilt there too.... and then they go on to work together again, get married, and work through the protectorate, and hopefully into the Restoration.  I'm opening it some time before Naseby.

Naturally I started some name research and discovered some awesomely off the wall names.  One might expect Damaris, Mercy, Dorcas and Keturah, but Hebshebeth?  and two names that kept recurring throughout the 17th century, Bethia and Friswith. 

Bethia is Hebrew, servant of Jehovah, all well and good [I'd never come across it and I thought my Biblical knowledge was pretty good] and according to the internet was a Scottish name that became popular in the 17th century because of its incidental sound, like beath, good health.  Believe me, I was turning up Bethias in Sussex and you can't get a lot further from Scotland than that. 
Friswith is, to my best guess, a derivation from Frideswide, a Celtic saint whom I would have considered moderately obscure.  Why did it become popular?  who knows!  Further digging showed it to have been around in the middle of the 16th Century, and I can't help wondering whether it was a backlash against the Reformation in the use of a saint name, but one which was obscure enough not to cause a lot of official notice.  Elizabeth, Ann[e], Catherine and Sarah were already well enough established for no comment to be made, despite being saint names, as were Barbara and Audrey.   Bridget makes an appearance in quantity at the same period, and there are some medieval names revived, like Iden [ in the middle ages appearing as Idonia, Idonea, Ideny, Idone, Yden(e), Idunn, Iduna, and a lovely pagan name it is], so am I barking up the wrong tree?  this is of course the period for the introduction of New Testament names, and the obscurer Old Testament ones, as well as 'quality' names, so the  girls have Abigail, Priscilla, Ruth,Rebecca, Dorcas, Tabitha, Damaris[I haven't yet come across a Naomi to go with Ruth....] and so on, as well as Prudence, Patience, Mercy, Constance, Faith and Charity.
I do not believe the name 'Sense' which recurrs a few times falls into this category.  I think it's a development of Sencey, which is the common form of Sanchia aka Scientia, Sancha, Sence, Sanche, Sanctia, Science.  As I also have a 'Saint', I suspect that's a part of it too. 
The most popular girl's names are still Mary, Elizabeth, Ann[e], Joan and/or Jane [definitely two separate names] and Sarah.  Interestingly I'm seeing girls with a mother called Joan becoming Joane [Joanne as we would spell it now] or Joanna; and those with mother Susan being Susanna[h].  Not only are Jane and Joan now different names, being given one each to sisters, but Juliana and Gillian are now separate, Emma is the preferred form of Emme with one Emlyn [from Emblem]; Amy and Mabel are separated from Amabel, which does not appear at all, though I have one Anabel, which might owe something to it, as much as to combining 'Ann' and 'belle', which connection I make purely on the spelling.  

Naturally the men have a free rein of the weirder OT names as well as introducing Timothy, and reviving Aquila.  We have Ephraim, Caleb, Zachariah, Seth, Jonas, Josias,as well as the more familiar Isaac, Reuben, Daniel, Josiah, Samuel and Benjamin.  Abraham sits in low popularity but in use right through from the middle ages.  And surprise surprise, the most popular names are still John, William and Thomas. 

And of course the odd names.  And these are the ones I'm guessing to be the maiden names of the mother bestowed upon the first-born, as was Fitzwilliam Darcy - and guess what, there WAS a Bennett!  Others are: 
Ayliffe, Chileab, Pelham, Archdane, Grafton, Gayneshe, Artlebert, Marlyon, Oliphe, Bostocke, Harmon and so on.  I pitied the boy named Hunnibun.  

On the whole, the names prevalent in the 17th century pretty much give us the central stock of names of today, and apart from the odder Biblical names which are a little quaint to our ears nowadays, are mostly familiar. 
I'd love to hear from anyone who knows a Friswith though or who has one in their family tree. 

Tuesday 11 November 2014

The Unwilling Viscount, now published! and other writing news....

it's out in time for Christmas, and I hope you all like it....  at .amazon.com  and at .amazon.co.uk

I am tackling NaNoWriMo, and hoping to complete the text of a novel this month, tentative title, 'The Unexpected Bride', and no, I haven't forgotten Elinor and the Charity School, and nor have I forgotten Jane and Caleb, Felicia and Robin or William Price. 

Sunday 26 October 2014

Pretty things

I was somewhat inspired by this post by a Covent Garden Gilflurt's Guide to Life HERE showing the pretty notebook of Queen Charlotte, which she never used.

I use a LOT of notebooks, mostly school exercise books, which I curse gently as I rifle through to find the right one.   So I decided to cover them with excessive and baroque wallpaper...  and then I also got excessive with old desk diaries.

a mix of die cut shapes and stickers... quick and simple but pretty.... this one I'm using largely for those plots that have a series attached, with a month's worth of pages given to each series. 

this diary needed covering, so I used marbled paper, an urn cut from textured wallpaper, and more stickers, a few gems and a bit of pen work.  I haven't put anything in this one yet. 

detail of above.


and not as fancy,but at least now individualistic exercise books.  This is what we used to do at school; or rather, we were encouraged to cover things with either wallpaper or brown paper.  Many of my friends used up old rolls of wallpaper, and I went out to get a wallpaper book from a hardware store so I could colour code all my subjects.  Anally retentive?  moi? 


The one with the William Morris wallpaper contains my notes for 'Lady Molly' stories, following the eponymous detective of the Baroness Orczy.  Jane and Caleb reside in suitable furnishing patterns, and the rather bright orange one is ideas for sequels to 'Friends and Fortunes' on the grounds that Virgilia is best described as 'extremely'.  Add any adjective you like.

Plot ideas and short stories. The plot ideas are just the initial scrawl of a plot bunny as it takes me, and may end up as a sub-plot, or become something more to transfer to the book of series. 

and my first attempts at a Georgian story, 'Milady's Masquerade', notes and the first chapter or so.

the other books are poetry, The Charity School series notes, and weather.  I've been using the Newspaper archive online to find the weather, and currently it's in a notebook in longhand.  I'll be blogging about that too later...

Sunday 28 September 2014

Really strange phenomena from the 'long' Regency.

I've been researching weather for a while, with a view to presenting a month-by-month description covering the 'long' Regency and whilst poking around in the Newspaper Archive, I've come across one or two very odd things.


Saturday 24th august 1811 Norfolk Chronicle.



Monday 28th November 1803 Salisbury and Winchester journal.
Add to this the Lunar rainbow visible at Edinborough on the 20th October 1801, the odd case of ball lightning as on 30th January 1801 at Hoxton,  several hurricanes, and people frequently killed by lightning, and it appears that the early 19th century had some very exciting weather indeed.
I'm guessing that the event at Bromswell camp may well have been some kind of ball lightning; but has anybody got any idea what happened at Grantham? 

Update, 8th October 2014, I have been thinking about the apparently greater incidence of lightning strikes and ball lightning in the Regency period, and as I have been informed such things routinely happen in those parts of Eastern Europe that are far from technology, I can only postulate that the lines of pylons we take for granted, each with their own lightning conductor, and the tall buildings we are become used to, also with lightning conductors, attract the static electricity that may be responsible for the spontaneous formation of ball lightning, and too attract the lightning itself so it does not harm people.  Morover, the modern car is a Faraday cage, protecting its inmates from lightning, whereas the wooden carriage with metal only in its springs, was a danger to its occupants in being often the highest thing around. 
I still have no idea what happened at Grantham.

Friday 5 September 2014

I've been guest blogging again...

... This one on Kathryn Kane's new 'Romance' blog, so if anyone would like to read my blog on 'the elements of romance' please find it HERE.  This is an addition to Kat's excellent 'Regency Redingote' blog HERE which is most certainly well worth browsing.  Get your cuppa first though, you'll be lost in it for hours of enjoyment.

Thursday 17 July 2014

The Unwilling Viscount

All right, I give in.  Rookwood might have seemed a classy title but it panned; so I'm trying the expedient of seeing whether using a title in the title works.  I'm also using the expedient of changing the cover.  Haven't got the blurb on it yet, but here's the new version.  A departure for me from my Ackermann's prints but as the original panned so thoroughly, I might as well experiment.

Wednesday 7 May 2014

Knowledge Quest article!

This month and next, two of my name articles will be published in Knowledge Quest online magazine http://www.knowledgequestmaps.com/ 

Do check it out!

Tuesday 15 April 2014

Smugglers, spies and pirate treasure..

Well, it's out.  And I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed the writing of it.  You can find it Here in the US or Here in UK

I'd like to thank Helen and Gina for doing a readthrough for content and anachronism and Anne Seebaldt for a thorough job of proofing and editing, and the girls at DWG for reading and commenting. 

I have two reviews so far:

5***** from Giselle
“Rookwood” is a Regency Romance masterpiece by Sarah Waldock. Her detailed knowledge of the period peppers the book but she applies her knowledge with a deftly gentle touch. You are so at home in the Regency tableaux painted by Sarah Waldock that you feel her hero Kit Rookwood and Nell Bletchley, the heroine are already friends and you cannot but wish them well in their lives together. It is Regency Romance at its best, Sarah’s love of the English Language revels in this poignant love story. A believable and joyful rendering, this is truly a work the author should be commended for. Well written, fast moving, with just enough mystery to keep you hooked.

4**** from Nicki
This story is written in Sarah Waldock's characteristic style - intellectual free-thinking heros and heroines, exceptional Regency details and entertaining dialogue - but with added excitement! She has added in smugglers, pirate treasure and intrigue in with the balls and etiquette that surrounds our perception of the Regency period.

Cons - The sentences tend to be long and occasionally cumbersome, particularly in dialogue. In addition, the differences between the clever and not-so-clever characters are too defined -
some of the supposedly clever things are a little too obvious, and the stupid people seem more than ordinarily thick-headed to make up for it.

Overall, the story is excellent and well told, and a very entertaining read. Definitely recommend.

Sunday 30 March 2014

Writing by dice - how it works...

So, there I was, wondering whether I could actually write a story using the dice method.  And here it is.  An erudite, good-natured, sarcastic hero, with a child, wealthy, noble family and good looking, with a heroine who is spirited, pleasant, and determined with an absorbing hobby, poor as a church mouse, and attractive.  One of the incidents was meeting a carter ill-treating his pony.   The other was a letter from a relative, which I decided was from the heroine to the hero.

Here's how it panned out. [have now corrected all the howlers my voice recognition program put in, but have not yet figured out how to stop it putting caps after exclamation and question marks in speech...]
Ok, now I've been through it again and thanks to Colleen for picking up the ones I read right over. 







The Unexpected Librarian

“But Lynnie, you can’t!” wailed Mrs Ashe.
“Why not, Mama?  It relieves you of having to bring me out, and feeding me, and I shall have a regular wage into the bargain.  Frank will be able to stay at school.  We have to face it, Papa did not make sufficient provision for us, and I need to do something to earn a wage.  And I really do not wish to be a governess to some horrid girl who will get everything I had expected to have, and is featherheaded into the bargain.”
“Nobody would employ you as a governess; you are too young, and rather too pretty,” said Mrs Ashe.
“Precisely.  But to work as librarian to a second cousin who is a widower, and probably quite old, is much more to my liking,” said Jocelyn Ashe.
“But he thinks you’re a man!”  her mother expostulated.  “Only look – he has written to J. Ashe, esq.!”
“I cannot help it if my name is more usually given to boys,” said Jocelyn.  “I signed it honestly enough when I wrote to him.”
“So forward of you!”  her mother complained faintly.
“Yes, but needs must, and Adam, Baron de Curtney is a relation, however distant, and it behoves him to find gainful employment for impoverished relatives.  I told him I had catalogued my father’s library, and sent him a sample of the system I invented for so doing; and he has written back that he is impressed by it, and that such invention and industry deserves further education.”  She chuckled.  “I believe he is hinting that if I do well, he might sponsor me to Oxford.”
“The dreaming spires would fall at the thought,” said her mother.
“I fear so,” said Jocelyn, “though I wager that I have more brains than half the young men who may go there.”
“Undoubtedly,” sighed her mother.  “At least if he does not send you home again – as he might well, my love – you will not have to conceal your intelligence as you would if you had a season.”
Jocelyn looked affectionately at her mother.  It was from her mother that she had gained her love of books and she knew that her mother had been much irked to have to hide her own intellect in her own youth.


“My Lord, there is a young lady here to see you, who says you are expecting her,” Adam de Curtney’s butler, Hawtin, hesitated.  He went on, “and there is also a rather mangy pony about which she said she would explain.”
“She had better explain, for I will not brook anyone ill treating animals,” said Adam, grimly.  “But I am not expecting any young, er, lady.  Why did you not send her about her business?”
“She has a letter which is unquestionably in your hand, my Lord, and she is undoubtedly a lady,” said Hawtin.  “I placed her in the blue parlour.”
“Very well,” said Adam.  “Thank you, Hawtin.”


The young lady – Hawtin was right, she was definitely a lady, very young, and rather pretty – rose as Adam came in to the blue parlour.  She dropped a curtsy.
“I have arrived to take up my duties as you requested, my Lord,” Jocelyn said.  She was rather taken aback to see a very handsome man, who was by no means as old as she had expected.
Adam stared at her in consternation.
“I do not understand,” he said.  “I have no expectation of your arrival.”
Jocelyn laughed.
“Why, my Lord, what a bouncer!” she said. “We have been in correspondence; indeed I have your last letter inviting me here to catalogue your library.  I am Jocelyn Ashe.”
He stared, nonplussed.
“But … But you’re a girl!”  He managed.
“How very perspicacious of you, my Lord,” said Jocelyn.  “You were expecting a male Jocelyn?  I confess I was taken aback when you wrote to me as J. Ashe esq.”
“No, you were not,” said Adam.  “You anticipated the error.”
She twinkled at him.
“Well, perhaps,” she admitted.  “I feared you might not take a lady librarian seriously.”
“I should not have done,” said Adam, firmly.  “So, tell me, where did you obtain the cataloguing system you so glibly described?”
She flushed, angrily and frowned.
“I may have chosen to permit you to assume that I was male, my Lord, but I told no lies.  I invented it myself for my father’s collection, because he was not of bookish disposition.  I expect it will have to be sold if you will not employ me,” she said, sadly.
“And you will not make your come-out either,” he said cynically.
“Well, no, but what is that next to a really excellent library amassed over many generations?”  Said Jocelyn.  “Besides, the addition of Lord Evenmere’s incunabula that I persuaded papa to make an offer for, when the Lord Evenmere went bankrupt.  It was my eighteenth birthday gift,” she added.
“You asked for incanabula for your birthday?  Well, it explains why the incanabula were missing when his library was auctioned off.  I take it that this purchase was made prior to the sale of the rest of the library?”
“Yes, my Lord.  One of my school friends is the sister of Lord Evenmere’s secretary.  I was able to assess the collection and make an offer through her good offices,” said Jocelyn.  “Papa may have made no provision for us, but he was very generous.  This was why mama and I never realised how short of funds he was.  It seemed impolite to take over his finances as well as taking over his library, especially as we had no idea that his finances were in any wise in difficulty.”
“What an extraordinary girl you are!” said Adam.  Surely he could not employ a female to catalogue his library?  And yet the system, if it were indeed hers, seemed quite remarkably good.
He shot some pertinent questions at her regarding the cataloguing.
Jocelyn answered with aplomb, and fully.  She knew what she was talking about.
“Very well,” he said.  “I will give you a trial; if I am not satisfied with you after a month, then I shall send you home.  But I will make a firm offer for your incanabula if I cannot employ you.”
“That seems fair, my Lord,” said Jocelyn.  “I cannot see that you would not be satisfied, so I may rest assured of retaining my collection.”
“I should like to see it sometime though,” said Adam.  “I believe it is said to include a handwritten copy of Chaucer’s tales, with a tale as yet unconfirmed as one of the collection.”
“It does, and I should be glad if you would look at that tale, my Lord.”  She grimaced slightly.  “I should like an expert to see it, since I am convinced that it is spurious, and may have been an attempt at forgery in the past perhaps by some earlier member of the family.  Either that, or they were taken in by it.  The quality of the parchment feels slightly different to the rest of the tales, and the illumination style is not precisely similar to the rest.”
“Fascinating, even so,” said Adam, disappointed, but not surprised.  “Now, there was one other matter… I believe there was a pony in rather poor condition…”
“Oh yes, my Lord!”  A sparkle of anger came into Jocelyn’s eyes as she turned her thoughts to the pony.  However, before she could answer further, the door burst open and a tiny child of about four or five years old came running in.
“Papa, I could not come before but Cousin Lynnie here, has taken a pony away from a bad man, and it needs to get well, as please my I ride it all for my own?”
Adam raised an eyebrow.
“You have already met, er, Cousin Jocelyn?”  He queried.
“Yes, Papa, on the drive, while I was out for my walk with Lindy, but she wanted me to change before I came to see you.  There are tadpoles in the lake,” said the child, “and it’s a bit muddy.”
“My daughter, Georgiana,” Adam murmured to Jocelyn.  “Miss Linders is an indulgent nursemaid, and I should not have it any other way.  I will look at the pony, Geegee, now back you run to Lindy.”
Georgiana put up her face for a kiss, and received one from her father, and ran over to Jocelyn too.  Jocelyn promptly bestowed one, and the child ran off, satisfied.
“A bad man?”  Adam raised an eyebrow.
“He was beating of the poor pony because the cart would not move; it was stuck in a rut.  So I shouted at him, and told him,” she flushed, “oh dear, it sounds like Puss in Boots, and the Marquis of Carabas, because I said my cousin, Lord de Curtney, would pay him a fair price.  I thought you could dock it from my wages,” she added.
“What, you value the beast above books?”
“I could not permit the poor creature to suffer, could I?” said Jocelyn.  “But you will not be obliged to pay a penny, for he went white, and told me to just take the pony.  He added an adjective that I did not understand,” she added.
“Just as well; this is the carter who works out of the Red Lion,” said Adam grimly.  “I threatened him, last time I caught him mistreating his animal, that if he ill-treated any more, I would horsewhip him, and throw him in the pond.  I take it, therefore, that your luggage is still at the Red Lion?”
“Yes; bringing the pony somewhere where he might be fed and watered, cooling him by walking him here, seemed a good idea,” said Jocelyn.
He nodded.
“I like your priorities,” he said.  “I will have your luggage collected.”


Jocelyn found Adam’s library something of a challenge, as portions of it, which overlapped, had already been catalogued using a selection of very different systems, which were not compatible.  However, she worked assiduously on it.
Adam would sometimes come in to see how Jocelyn was getting on, but schooled himself to stay away, in case she felt he was hovering with the intention of criticism.  As Jocelyn shared her advances with him over tea, each day, he felt no need to pry into her work.  When he walked into the library looking for a book, and was able to lay his hand on it almost immediately, the efficacy of her system was definitely vindicated.
Often in her breaks, Jocelyn would take walks in the thin spring sunshine, and sometimes in light showers too.  When it was fine, she often met Lindy and Georgiana, out for a walk. Sometimes she saw Georgiana riding the pony, under the guidance of a groom, once the pony was deemed well enough for the little girl to ride him. When they were walking, Jocelyn usually made a point of speaking with Georgiana. 
“I want to read proper books!” declared Georgiana one day.  “Lindy only has baby books.”
“Can you read them all?”  Asked Jocelyn.  As one of her reasons for needing a job had been the desire to keep her much younger brother in school, she had some experience of small children.  Frank had been impatient over learning to read, and had burst into angry tears when he was not able to read the newspaper the same day he had started to learn his alphabet!
Georgiana appeared to suffer the same impatience, for she scuffed the toe of her shoe into the gravel of the drive.
“No,” she said in a small voice.
“Dear me!” said Jocelyn.  “These things take a lot of practice, you know.  Perhaps Lindy will let me come up to the nursery after tea, and if you work hard to read for me, I will tell you a good night story.”
Georgiana brightened.
“Oh yes!” she said.
“It’s up to Lindy,” warned Jocelyn.
Miss Linders looked gratified.
“If you would, Miss Ashe, I would be delighted,” she said.
Jocelyn privately suspected that Georgiana rode the poor woman ragged, not from any deliberate naughtiness, but because Lindy had not the heart to say ‘no’ very often, and Georgiana was strong minded enough to be in danger of becoming a nursery tyrant.


It turned out that Georgiana had indeed been mutinous about learning her letters, as she wanted to learn whole words.
“Tell me, Geegee,” said Jocelyn, “what is this house built of?”
“Stone,” said Georgiana.
“Stone, indeed,” said Jocelyn.  “And the stone is in big blocks, isn’t it?”  Georgiana nodded, and Jocelyn went on, “Do you think the men who built it could pick up all the house at once?”
“’Course not,” said Georgiana.
“Well, reading is a lot like that.  The sounds the letters say are the stones, that can build anything.  When you know how all the stones work, reading becomes easy.”
“Oh,” said Georgiana, thoughtfully.
“Then let us read through ‘A – apple, B – bit it,” said Jocelyn, “and you point to the letters you know, and tell me what part of the word they are saying.”
Georgiana was a clever child, and soon became excited.  She cried out,
“B – I – T, bit,” she said, and added “and you can make C –A –T, cat!”
“You can,” said Jocelyn.  “See you’ve done some building for yourself, and that means that you are starting to understand how to use the sound-stones.”
Jocelyn had not noticed the nursery door opening, and the tall figure of Adam coming quietly in.  She closed the book.
“And now, I will tell you a story,” she said.  “A story about a wizard who built a castle with magic, just by saying the word ‘stone’ for every block.”
“S – T – O – N?” asked Georgiana.
“Aha!  Now we use a bit of word magic there,” said Jocelyn, “for that would be ‘ston’ which has no meaning.  But magic -e on the end of the word makes the letters in the middle say their name, not their sound, so it is S – T – O – N – and magic –e.”
Georgiana clapped her hands.
Jocelyn told the tale of a wizard who had built his castle, but forgot to leave a door to go in; she told how he had to ask for help to knock through a doorway, and how a clever builder had showed him how to build an archway with a keystone to hold up.  She explained that this was just like the main front doorway to Georgiana’s own house.
Georgiana was getting sleepy by the time Jocelyn had finished, and Lindy whisked the little girl off to get undressed.
“Papa!” cried Georgiana as she saw her father.
“I will kiss you good night presently,” said Adam.  “Miss Ashe, why do you blush so furiously?  You have done nothing wrong.”
“I was wondering how long you had been listening to my foolish story,” said Jocelyn.
“But it was not foolish, it was quite charming!” said Adam.  “A lesson in reading, an excellent object lesson in asking people when you need help, a bit of engineering, all in an interesting tale.  Geegee is a lucky little girl.  Do you suppose you could take on some duties in teaching her?” he asked, abruptly.
“I am not sure if I would wish to give up being a librarian for being a governess full-time, if that is what you are asking,” said Jocelyn.
“No, no, not at all!  I am perfectly satisfied with your work in the library, but there are now less duties there, and I hope you might let me pay you for an hour or two every day, to teach Georgiana.  I do not want her to have a full-time governess yet.”
“Then in that case, I am happy to accept,” said Jocelyn.  “She is a delightful child, but a trifle wilful.”
He pulled a grimace.
“Lindy is indulgent, which I like, but Georgiana needs to learn discipline too,” he said.
“Indeed, but not the sudden transition to a governess.  Lindy is such a lovely person, but Georgiana is a stubborn child, I think,” said Jocelyn.
“She takes after her father,” said Adam, dryly.  “And you handle her very well.”
“My little brother is eight,” said Jocelyn.  “I know about stubborn children!  I will need to work with Lindy on this, so that we give Georgiana a good balance in her day.”
Lindy, listening in trepidation behind the door, relaxed.  She was not to be turned off!
“Indeed, I do not know what I would have done without Lindy,” agreed Adam.  “Geegee minds Lindy most of the time, you know!”
“She would not be such a happy child if she were not in the habit of obedience,” said Jocelyn.  “But she is trying the limits.  It is far easier for a newcomer to impose those limits.”
“You are wise,” said Adam.  “Thank you!”


Georgiana proved an apt pupil, but Jocelyn was thankful of having the experience of having listened to the family governess dealing with her brother’s stubbornness!  Jocelyn was able to ask, “Shall we do sums first, or reading?” making the question of whether to do sums merely a question of being before, or after, Georgiana’s preferred lesson of reading.  Discipline was easy enough, for Georgiana responded very well to a threat of withholding such privileges as riding her pony.


Adam felt Jocelyn to be a blessing; she had restored order to the chaos of his library, and had arrived at just the right time to prevent Georgiana from becoming spoilt.  How could he have considered sending her away!  However, a visit from the vicar and his wife disturbed Adam greatly, and after they had left, he sent for Jocelyn.


Jocelyn tripped cheerfully into Adam’s study.
“I have a list of those books which will need a proper restorer,” she said.  “I am not qualified to do it myself, though if you permit, I shall watch, and try to learn.  Why, what is wrong, Sir?”  As she saw his bleak face.
“I have to send you away,” said Adam harshly.
Her face went white, and her eyes held the expression like a whipped puppy.
“Why?  I thought you were satisfied with what I have done!  I know Georgiana became rather muddy when we made a model of England in that big puddle, but…”
He held up a hand.
“You give perfect satisfaction,” he said, reflecting how adorable she had looked with tendrils of hair escaping her cap, and a smudge of mud on her nose, after Georgiana’s excursions into geography.  He went on, “the vicar’s wife has pointed out that as a man who has no wife I am damaging your reputation, a lone woman in my household.”
“Old cat,” said Jocelyn, in shock.  “But I am not a lone woman in your household.  I have an adequate chaperone in Lindy.  And may I ask how come the vicar’s wife has never worried about her reputation before I came?”
“Perhaps she feels that Lindy is old enough not to count,” said Adam dryly.  “I am glad that I can point out that Lindy is your chaperone; I cannot think how I came to forget that.  Shock I suppose.  I presume there has been talk because you are young and pretty.”
“And Lindy cannot be over forty; and mama was almost forty when Frank was born, so papa must still have felt her quite suitable for … such things as occur between men and women,” she blushed.  “If you ask me, it is nothing more than interference, and jealousy, because that old besom thrusts her muffin-faced daughter at you at every opportunity.”
“She does, does she?”  Said Adam.  “I am dense!  Why, it was an attempt to blackmail me into marrying her daughter, supposedly to preserve your countenance.”
“And if you ask me, the reason that young woman is still on the shelf isn’t so much a lack of looks, because anyone contented has their own inner beauty, but because she has a sour disposition,” said Jocelyn.  “Disappointed in love perhaps.”
“She threw herself at my head when she was first out,” said Adam, dryly.  “However I was always going to marry Letty Lorimer, Georgiana’s mother.”
“Did you love her very much?” asked Jocelyn a little wistfully.
He considered.
“We were good friends,” he said.  “It sounds a little lukewarm, but we could laugh together.  I loved her, but I never felt any overwhelming passion.  We just always expected to get married,” he laughed, “and though we had a private pact to release each other from our parents’ plans if we met the love of our life, it never happened.  And we were happy,” he said softly.  “She had such plans for our children; she wanted to teach them herself at first.  But we only had Georgiana.  She would have approved of you,” he added.
“Oh, Adam, I wish I had known her,” said Jocelyn.
“In a way, so do I,” said Adam, “but then, I might not have learned to love you, Lynnie.”
Jocelyn’s heart beat faster.
“Oh, Adam!”  She said.  “Even if you only want me as a mother for Georgiana…”
“I don’t,” said Adam, savagely, “I want you,” and he came round his desk to pull her into his arms to kiss her.
Jocelyn realised that perhaps this was what the vicar’s wife had anticipated, but she did not, in the least, consider the situation worth protesting.
Inevitably, Georgiana walked in on the embrace.
“Papa, I… Why are you cuddling Cousin Lynnie?” she asked.  “Has she hurt herself?”
“No, sweetheart,” said Adam.  “How would you like Cousin Lynnie to be your new mama?”
Georgiana considered that.
“She won’t stop teaching me, will she?” she demanded.
“It’s one of the important things mamas do, to teach people,” said Jocelyn, who was blushing.
“Oh, good.  I’d like Cousin Lynnie to be my mama, then,” said Georgiana.  “Papa, Lindy let me play rescuing her from highwaymen, but I can’t untie her.”
“Why did you tie her up in the first place?” asked Adam.
“Because she was napkinned by highwaymen,” said Georgiana, unanswerably.
“I think you mean kidnapped, and are a bit muddled, darling,” said Jocelyn.  “Highwaymen just steal things.  Shall we go and rescue Lindy?”


Lindy was very pleased to be rescued from a rather spidery coach, in the back of the coach house, where she had been ‘napkinned’.  She was delighted when Adam begged her to be the first to wish him happy.
“Oh, I am so pleased!” she said.  “Of course, not unexpected … Oh Miss Ashe, you will want your mother here!”
“Hah!  Of course, the very thing!” said Adam.  “If Mrs Williams does not consider Lindy a suitable chaperone, she cannot take exception to Mrs Ashe!  And I shall let her stew before the betrothal is announced!”
“Adam, you are a bad man!” laughed Jocelyn.
“Yes,” agreed Adam, “and when she proses on about the vanity of choosing someone as young as you, I will tell her that I am only marrying you for your incanabula.”
“Aren’t you?” said Jocelyn, peeping at him from under her lashes.
“No, you minx; I am marrying you because I adore you,” said Adam, kissing her again.
It was only later that Adam reflected with amusement that the vicar’s wife probably had no idea what incanabula were, and would probably think it highly improper.  That  pleased him no end!

Thursday 27 March 2014

Writing by dice...I've been guest blogging!

Anna Thane, an accomplished Regency historian and writer, kindly asked me to write a blog for her on using random chance to encourage plot bunnies:  please find it HERE

Thursday 20 March 2014

New project - a whole Regency Series!

I've got a big, exciting new writing project on hand! And it's partly down to mum being ill, and needing entertaining that I'm getting stuck right in there...

Now I enjoy the lighthearted Regencies of M.C. Beaton, who has written a heap of stories that stand alone but are part of a six-book series that interconnect, with some characters running through all of them.  And they say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  So, I've started the first of a 6 - or maybe more - part series, opening in 1809 to be called the Charity School Series.

The first book, Elinor's Endowment, opens with a young woman, Elinor, who has always been given to believe that she will not survive past 30 with inherited heart disease deciding to endow a school for impoverished orphaned gentlewomen.  She wants to see it running before she dies, however, and as well as her own governess, Libby, as Headmistress, she engages a blunt Scots doctor who informs her that there's nothing wrong with her that fresh air, good food and exercise won't cure.  As both he and Elinor are very stubborn people, sparks fly from the first, and continue throughout the book as pupils arrive. 

Book 2 is Ophelia's Opportunity; a young lady left destitute applies for a post in the Charity School, to keep her younger brothers in their own schooling.  She becomes very close to the youngest orphan pupil, close in age to her own brothers.  This pupil however develops a father who has been trying to track his daughter down since he returned from the war. 

Book 3 is Abigail's Adventure; one of the orphans is told she has relatives she knew nothing about.  They offer to give her a Season.  However, there appears to be an ulterior motive in their generosity, and Abigail finds herself relying more and more on her guardians' nephew...

Book 4 is Marianne's Misanthrope.  Marianne was orphaned and had no skills to speak of outside being a lady; her branch of the family had been disowned by the main branch.  Her education is sponsored however by someone she knows only through his solicitor as Uncle Silas, who his the other branch of the family, on condition that she writes to him weekly with her progress.  Marianne learns to dislike him less through the letters she receives in return, and is glad to have a relative when one of her father's creditors decides that she is the means to pay off an old debt...

Book 5 is Francine's Fear.  Francine is the child of emigrés and she does not know of any relatives in England.  When a most dodgy cousin turns up and wants to use an innocent young girl to further his spying, however, Francine must choose whether to be terrorised by him, or confess the whole to Miss Libby Freemantle.  I'm currently wondering whether to cross over this with The Unwilling Viscount and use the government agent left at a loose end in that....

Book 6 is Libby's Luck.  Libby Freemantle was not many years older than her charge, Elinor, and though the school has run successfully she is still a handsome woman not yet 30.  She may have given up all hope of marriage, but it does not stop her being much disturbed by the new trustee, who believes in taking a closer interest in the school than merely overseeing its fiscal arrangements. 


Sunday 16 February 2014

More unusual Medieval French names.

A few posts back I looked at Matilda [or Maud] HERE; and a long time ago I did some work on the name Toussaine HERE and now I've been seriously researching names, here are a few more Medieval names that did not survive to modern French which cropped up during my researches. 



Other –eut names for women besides Maheut

Medieval French produced other names ending –eut which where similar corruptions of the –ild[is], battle maiden, suffix.  Note, the –is ending is a Latinisation like a –a ending. This sometimes survived into later versions of the name..
The other –eut names  include:

Bauteut, probably from Baldechild.  Its English counterpart is Bathild or Bothilde, diminutive Badelot[a]

 Richeut, the French feminine of Richard or Richart.  This derives from Richild[is], which changed very little in the English version, being Richild[a], Rikildr or Richolda, and was joined by Richmaya, which appears to be an entirely English invention.

Gonteut.  I have been unable to find any positive identification of a Gontildis; however I would postulate a common ancestor to the name Gunnild[a]. 

Erembourc

Not a very feminine name, is it?  In fact the ending -bourc was used for several names and I tracked it down to a mangling of the Germanic/Frankish suffix –berga, a fortress, a common ending for women in Germanic languages, including the Saxon. English Saxon female names like Edburg, Kynbourg, Mildburg, Stanburgh and Whyburgh remained unchanged, though did not survive past the end of the 13th Century.  [I found one Kynbourg in the 16th Century].  In France the –burg softened to –bourc.  Erembourc derives from Eremburg[is].  There is some relation here, no doubt too, to the Old Norse Bjorg [more familiar to modern ears as Björk]; it is not unreasonable to suppose a Norman influence here.
Other –bourc names include  Aubourc, Guibourc, and  Libourc.  These appear to derive from:

Alberg [remembering the French tendency to replace ‘l’ with ‘u’], which in Old Norse is Aldbjorg. 

Guiborc may derive from   Gerberga or a postulated Giberga; Old Norse provides Gudbjorg. 

Libourc has no immediately apparent derivation though it is possible to postulate Liutberga.  I have been unable to find any English counterparts to any of the French berg/bourc names. Different choices were made.  I postulate that Bourjot/Bourjoise was a name constructed initially as a pet name from one of the other –bourc names and attained its own identity fairly early. 

Ermenjart

This is a direct softening of Ermengardis, or Ermengarde in English,  where it was never especially popular.  The only other –jart name I have encountered was Lijart, whose short-lived English counterpart was Ligarda, and probably derives from Lietgard[is].  Lidiard[is] is also a possible candidate, but having already lost the hard internal ‘g’ I would suggest this is much less likely.