Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure - Chapter Four

Lady Ambleforth's 

Afternoon Adventure

Chapter Four ~by Elaine Golden

 With a little sniff of annoyance they were sure to ignore as well, Araminta set off again at a brisk pace. Sadly, it took only a few strides for them to catch up. Mr. Hodges continued to make a show of dabbing his brow while Lord Torquil talked and talked, about nothing so much as himself. Maybe the D stood for Discourse.

     “I say, perhaps we should pause at the mill so Lady Ambleforth may take a bit of shade,” said Mr. Hodges with feigned concern. He was beginning to huff and turn the alarming shade of boiled lobster.

     “I assure you, I’m quite content to continue on. However, should you desire the opportunity to rest…”

     “Yes, do rest, Mr. Hodges. We shouldn’t want you to take ill and miss the service this 

Sunday.” Lord Torquil’s smirk suggested the opposite.

     But Araminta was distracted and no longer paying them much attention. As they drew near the large stone edifice of the flour mill, she realized that something was amiss. Normally, this was a site of much industry. Today, it stood eerily quiet (her companions’ bickering aside), and it took a moment to realize why: the massive waterwheel wasn’t turning. The door of the miller’s cottage was open, and a saddled horse grazed idly in the yard beside.

     How strange. Araminta paused in the lane in indecision. Should they investigate further? What if someone was hurt and needed assistance?

     A shout drew their attention to the waterline where the miller, Mr. Probey, stood waist deep in the river, gesticulating wildly and pointing to a large wooden pole that appeared to be wedged in the base of the wheel. Then he leaned forward, straining for leverage.

     “Looks like there’s something lodged in the wheel,” said Lord Torquil. “I don’t envy him the task of freeing it, at all.” Clearly, he hadn’t even considered offering assistance.

     The faint creak of wood precipitated more shouting and straining. Then, with a long, violent shudder and a metallic shriek, the wheel began to move with all of the speed of a bed-bound octogenarian suddenly determined to walk. The once placid gelding took exception to the noise, reared, and thundered away.

     The miller sloshed out of the way, laughing, and a moment later the water broke as another man surfaced beside him. A naked man. Or, at least partially naked, because all that Araminta could see at the moment was his chest, but –oh, my! Wasn’t that a sight to see? Lord Ambleforth had never displayed muscles quite like that.

     She wasn’t sure how long she stood there ogling that fine specimen. She was certain, though, that the only reason she stopped doing so was because someone slapped their hands over her eyes to block the sight. She’d have wagered beforehand such action would be from Mr. Hodges, but she’d have been wrong. The D likely stood for Disappointing, then.

     “What, ho!” called the curate some distance ahead while she tried unsuccessfully to remove Lord Torquil’s hands. “Sir Ed, is that you?”

     Araminta paused. Sir Edgar Deppity? As the new owner of the mill (and many other businesses in town), it made sense that Sir Ed should be involved in restoring operations, but she hadn’t recognized him. Of course, she’d only met him that one time and, admittedly, she hadn’t been precisely looking at his face a moment ago…

     “Aye, Mr. Hodges. How do you do, sir?”

     “Kindly put something on, sir! Lady Ambleforth is in our company. Surely you didn’t remove all of your articles of clothing… ah, but I see I was mistaken. It’s the middle of the day, sir!”

     Oh, dear. He really had been naked. Was naked. Lord Torquil tightened his grip and held firm, despite Araminta’s attempts to see what the rest of Sir Ed Deppity might look like wearing nothing but water droplets in the sunshine.

     “All right,” said Sir Ed in a husky voice that sent little shivers down her spine, and the restraints fell away, revealing him in his fully garbed glory. As tall as Lord Torquil, his brown eyes glinted with amusement, as if he knew precisely what she’d just been imagining. His curly brown hair was tamed when wet and clung to his skill, accentuating his high brow and cheekbones. “What brings you by this fine day, my lady?”

     “Oh,” she said with a smile and as much nonchalance as she could muster. “My carriage broke down and it seemed a fine day to walk home. The gentlemen are determined to escort me.”

     “I see.” Sir Ed glanced at the now empty field beside the miller’s cottage then eyed her companions as if sizing them up. “Do you mind if I join you, then? I seem to have lost my mount in the proceedings. No doubt he’s enjoying a fine bit of feed corn while the stable lads make bets on what’s befallen me.”

     Why did all of the men in the neighbourhood pick today to descend? The walk home had seemed a splendid idea when she had thought she’d be alone to enjoy the leisurely stroll.

     As fascinating as the naked flesh and water display had been –and she was certain she’d spend some time recalling it this evening when she was alone –Araminta was not pleased for more company. But, as the well-bred peeress her mother had raised her to be, she smiled and inclined her head in acquiescence.

     Surely, she could tolerate the three of them without losing all sense of decorum for the remainder of the journey?

                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elaine Golden is the author of The Fortney Follies series.  Links and other details can be found on her website (www.elainegolden.com)

Come back tomorrow for the next installment of Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure! 

And don't forget to enter the Harlequin Historical Summer Giveaway, which continues till June 28th with daily contests and a grand prize. The calendar is here.

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure, Chapter 3

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure

Chapter 3 By Annie Burrows

She wouldn't put it past him.  With all the rumours of disgrace in his past - and a disgrace so disgraceful her husband had refused to even hint at what it might have been - and the way he always looked at her, as though he knew something she didn't, and found both it and her very amusing, well...

                She had not even drawn breath throughout the whole of her mental diatribe, she realized.  Not that one needed to breathe, to think.  Except that annoyingly, in Lord Torquil's vicinity, breathing never did seem to occur naturally.

                It came as something of a relief when, just as they drew level with Mrs Hopewell's cottage, she saw the curate, Mr Hodges emerging from the gate.

                "Good day, my lady, good day!"  He raised his hat, and stepped out into the lane, his keen blue eyes flicking from her to Lord Torquil.

                "What a surprise to see you out walking on such a hot day," he said to Lord Torquil, producing a handkerchief with a flourish, and mopping his brow.  "I would not have ventured forth myself, were it not for my duty to offer spiritual comfort to the sick and indigent," he said, annoying Araminta intensely.  She found the widow Hopewell a delightful person.  A fund of interesting goss...news.  It rankled to hear the young curate relegate her to the status of a duty to be got through, rather than a person with whom it was always a pleasure to sit and share a cup of tea.

                "Alas," replied Lord Tall and Dangerous-to-her-breathing, "Lady Araminta's brand new phaeton has developed a problem on its very first outing.  She has been obliged to postpone her trip, and return home on foot.  Naturally, seeing her predicament, I offered to escort her."

                He had done no such thing!  He had simply strolled over, and informed her that he would do so.  And was doing so, without so much as a by-your-leave.

                Mr Hodges took on that rather pompous look which usually preceded the more uncomfortable points during his sermons.

                "There is no need for that, my lord," he said firmly.  "Now that I am here, you may continue upon your way.  I shall escort Lady Araminta home."

                Lord Torquil raised one eyebrow.  "Indeed?"  He looked the perspiring curate up and down.

                "You do not look as though you should be out in this weather yourself.  In fact, did I not know better, I would venture to say you look as though you have already been exerting yourself overmuch.  Though I am sure you would deny you have been running."

                "Running?  Why ever should I do such a thing?  In this heat!"  His face turned an even deeper shade of red.  "I did not wish to put it so bluntly," he said, swelling with the kind of indignation Lord Torquil had just provoked in her, "but Lady Araminta really should not be seen walking alone with a man of your...reputation.  Much better for me to see her home."

                "Better for whom," said Lord Torquil dryly.  Then he shrugged.  "I do not suppose I can stop you from joining us," he said as the curate took his place on Araminta's other side.  "But it makes no difference to my plans."

                "Very well," said Mr Hodges with unmistakeable hostility, over the top of her head.  "If you persist in your obstinacy, at least my presence will preserve the lady from the sort of unpleasant gossip that being seen alone with you would provoke."

                Lady Araminta pouted.  They were like two dogs fighting over a bone.  A bone, what was more, that would much rather be left alone.  But was this not typical male behaviour?  They had taken it upon themselves to decide what was best for her.  Not once had either of them asked whether she wished to be escorted home by a sweaty curate and a Totally Disreputable Son-of-a-Duke.

                Oh, if only there was some way she could bring them both down a peg or two!

Don't miss chapter 4 - coming tomorrow!

In the meantime, why not enter the Harlequin Historical authors Summer Beach Bag giveaway?  There are daily giveaways all the way through June, and a grand prize draw on June 29th.  To find out more, click here

Annie has a book out with Harlequin Historical in July - "An Escapade and an Engagement".   You can find Annie on Facebook, at www.facebook.com/AnnieBurrowsUK

 

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure

Chapter Two ~by Barbara Monajem

Heavens, it was gorgeous Lord Torquil D. Silverthorne—or as Araminta liked to think of him, Lord Tall, Dark, and Sinister. Nobody knew what the D stood for; even in Debrett’s, the initial was all one could find. The disgraced son of a duke, he dwelt in an ivy-enshrouded mansion on a hill between here and Araminta’s home.

   “Good day, Lady Ambleforth.” Lord Torquil swept off his hat with a flourish and bowed low over her hand. His lips barely brushed her glove, but nevertheless a quiver ran through her at his touch. (How appropriate if the D stood for Dangerous. Or Delicious.) 

   “A carriage breakdown?” murmured Lord Torquil. His eyes touched her, too—everywhere, in the most disconcerting way. “How convenient.”  He replaced his hat upon his dark locks, which curled disreputably over his collar and brow.  (What a pity Disconcerting and Disreputable were not proper names.)

   She put up her chin. She refused to let Lord Torquil—or any man—unsettle her. “For me, certainly. I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of it before. A brisk walk is far more to my taste than shopping. Good day, my lord. ” She nodded dismissal, twirled her blue parasol and continued toward home.

   Unsurprisingly, he turned to accompany her. “Convenient for me as well. What greater pleasure than to stroll on a glorious June day with a lovely lady on my arm?”

   Araminta rolled her eyes. She wasn’t on his arm and didn’t intend to be.

   “But that’s not what I meant,” Lord Torquil said. “Wealthy, young, beautiful widows are few and far between, and a solitary walk might well be fraught with peril.” 

   She huffed. “In the countryside so close to home? If you dare tell me my husband would have disapproved…”

   “He would have, but he doesn’t matter anymore, does he? You’re an independent woman now.”

   Must he purr like a large, warm tomcat asking to be stroked? Torquil Desirable Silverthorne…  His voice sidled into her thoughts, which were rapidly turning disgraceful. “Aren’t you?”

   Wasn’t she what? Oh. Independent. “Of course I am.”

   “And aren’t there many, many men out there who would like to change that?”

   Definitely—even before she was out of mourning, she’d had offers of marriage, which she had refused. “Let them try!”   

    “I believe one of them already has, and in a most unscrupulous way.” He smiled at her with a flash of white teeth and a glint in his eye. “I suspect it is someone who dwells between here and your home.”

   “Whatever can you possibly mean?” She quickened her steps, starting to be annoyed. While she might safely indulge a few improper thoughts about delectable Lord Torquil, he had now begun to truly disturb her. 

   “Such a lonely stretch of road,” he said. “Such a spirited lady, itching to be free for once in her life. Such a convenient mishap to her wheel—enough to disable the phaeton, but not to cause her any harm.”

   Rapidly, Araminta reviewed all the neighbours who might aspire to her hand.  None of them would hatch such a devious plan… Oh! “You sabotaged my phaeton?” She whipped her parasol shut and backed away from him, brandishing it. “How dare you!”

   He put up his hands, laughing. “My dear Lady Ambleforth! If I had purposely damaged your wheel, do you think I would tell you so?”
 

                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barbara Monajem has a new novella coming out in July. It's called To Rescue or Ravish? A blurb and excerpt can be found at her website. (www.BarbaraMonajem.com).

Come back tomorrow for the next installment of Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure! And don't forgot to enter the Harlequin Historical Summer Giveaway, which continues till June 28th with daily contests and a grand prize. The calendar is here.

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure

Gentle Readers, it is with great delight that a group of Harlequin Historical authors present their first Round Robin. A new chapter will appear every day for the next two weeks (except Sunday June 24). But we need your input to encourage our muses. The game is to identify the perfect beau for our heroine as we go along. Root for your favorite. I do hope you enjoy this little bit of summer fun.

Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure

Chapter One ~by Ann Lethbridge

Araminta Ambleforth had been looking forward to her outing to Maidstone from the moment she’d thought of the idea yesterday. Sadly, it looked as if her journey would end almost before it began. The phaeton she had ordered from London, with a mint green body and wheels picked out in red, looked rather forlorn on the side of the lane with one wheel at a very odd angle, while Cloud, a pretty gray gelding, happily munched on the grassy verge.

      Groom Jack, a young man with a shock of black hair and startling blue eyes got up from inspecting the wheel and shook his head.

     “Can it be fixed?” she asked with a hopeful smile and a twirl of her blue silk fringed parasol designed to ensure not a ray of sunshine touched her face. It was too late for that, unfortunately, because she’d been pruning rose bushes in the formal gardens behind Ambleforth House and had forgotten to wear a hat. Not only freckles bloomed across the bridge of her nose, but a telltale pink tinged her cheekbones. The perils of being the typical English blonde with blue eyes.

     “No fixing that on the fly, my lady. The wheel has a definite wobble. I’ll not trust it to carry you another yard. Haslops in Midbury will need to take a look. If he can’t fix it, we’ll have Mr. Wilson from Maidstone carriage works out.”

     Bother. Her outing would have to be postponed. Or cancelled. Unless she walked home and collected the travelling carriage.

Araminta glanced up at the sky. It was a lovely June day, a few fluffy clouds, a light breeze carrying the scent of spring, and fields verdant with new growth. “You know, Jack Merton, it is almost too nice a day to go shopping. You take the phaeton to Haslops , while I walk home.”

     Young Jack’s jaw dropped. “Now, my lady, if his lordship were alive, he would never have permitted-”   

     “But he isn’t.” His lordship hadn’t permitted all manner of things. Now she was out of mourning, it was time to enjoy the world. Meet some people. Begin life anew. And as a widow, an unexpectedly very rich and young widow, the world was waiting for her grand entrance. And if she’d only dared brave a couple of visits to Maidstone so far, it was because she had been a very young bride. But all that was over. “And I can certainly manage to walk a mere two miles.”
   
     It was time, to be a little daring. Not scandalous, mind you. But she needed to test her independence. She gave Jack a winsome smile. “Please see that Cloud is well-stabled, and then come home and report on the condition of my carriage.” Without giving him a chance to object, she strode out for Ambleforth.

     Oh, and who was this coming in the other direction?

---

Ann Lethbridge has a new book coming out in July, The Laird's Forbidden Lady. You can find Ann and all her news at her website.

 Don't forget that the Harlequin Historical Authors have a very special contest going on this month. Details can be found on her website.

MIXING WITH ROYALTY -A Queen of Romance and...the Queen of England!

My story starts a couple of days before Christmas 2011 – hey, I’m a writer, and I don’t know how else to tell this story!

So, it’s a couple of days before Christmas, and half a dozen Christmas cards have arrived in the morning post, along with an innocuous-looking envelope addressed to me.  Assuming the latter was a bill, I naturally opened the Christmas cards first – I love everything about Christmas, and consider sending and receiving cards from family and friends, as being part of the joy of the season.  It finally came time to open the innocuous looking envelope, which I duly did, quickly read the contents of the letter inside, before throwing it down onto the table beside me in disgust, with muttered comments like ‘it’s disgusting the scams people get up to nowadays’, and ‘at Christmas time too!’.  My husband came into the room about fifteen minutes later, and I showed him the letter, expecting him to be outraged too, but instead he picked up the letter, said he would be back in five minutes or so, and duly disappeared.  As he had said, he did reappear five minutes later, gently placed the letter down on the table beside me, and said softly ‘it isn’t a scam, Carole, you really are being asked to accept an invitation to attend the Queen’s Garden Party at Buckingham Palace in May 2012,in recognition of your outstanding service to literature’.  I actually began writing in 1978, and have just completed my 180^th novel for Harlequin Mills and Boon, but even so…!

Now in my own defence, in regard to thinking it was all a scam of some kind, I would just like to point out that the second paragraph of the letter asked me for details of my passport, and that of the guest who would be accompanying me.

Secondly, things like this do not happen to people like me.  I was born in a small village in Bedfordshire, more years ago than I care to think about, the youngest of three children, and the only time I have ever seen the Queen, or any of the royal family, has been when they were being driven past in a car, or on the television.

Thirdly, I had never heard of a Harlequin Mills and Boon author having received such an honour, and if there are some of them out there then they probably haven’t talked about it for the same reason I haven’t – they were in shock!

I believe, along with the rush and bustle that is Christmas, that I truly did go into shock for a few days, and then I learnt that a dear friend was very seriously ill – Penny Jordan – and the whole thing just faded into the background.  Unfortunately we lost Penny on New Year’s Eve, and it was just so sad, that everything else paled into insignificance, and I really didn’t give the garden party invitation another thought until much later that month, when I finally remembered I had to send my acceptance.

Being of bit of a worry wart, I was still reluctant to share the news of the Royal invitation with anyone – what if it turned out to be a mistake, and they had the wrong Carole Mortimer? Or the official invitation, which they told me would be sent out in mid April, never arrived?  How foolish I would look, for ever having believed they could really have meant me in the first place!  So I told very few people, just close family – my Mum and Dad were so proud! – and three dear friends.

But to my surprise a buff-coloured envelope duly arrived mid-April, bearing a Buckingham Palace postmark, inviting myself, and my husband, to the Queen’s Garden Party, at Buckingham Palace, on May 29th,  2012.  One of those three dear friends asked me if I had very carefully opened the envelope so that I might frame it, along with the official invitation – but I’m sorry to say, that in my haste to see if it really was THE invitation, I had ripped the envelope open (perhaps a bit of sticky tape…?).

So, I now had six weeks in which to find something to wear – being superstitious, and that worry-wart, I hadn’t so much as looked at what I would wear for such an occasion.  And I had to wear a hat.  The instructions for the day, which had arrived in the envelope with the official invitation – we were not allowed to take cameras into the Palace, or have mobile phones switched on, nor would the official photographers be allowed inside the grounds – definitely said I had to wear a hat.  I never wear hats!  Not even to the weddings of two of my sons.  The gold silk suit was easy – I love the silk clothes from a certain shop, and they very kindly made the suit I wanted in the appropriate time.  The hat?  I’m not telling where I found the hat, but I’m sure you will agree, it goes perfectly with the suit?  And my husband – who retired when our youngest son was born, and hates wearing suits after having to wear them to work for thirty years – actually went out and bought a new suit and shirt for the occasion.  I was most impressed!

So, we’re all set, suits bought, hat also bought, now all we have to do is go to London and attend the Queen’s Garden Party at Buckingham Palace on May 29^th.  ATTEND THE QUEEN’S GARDEN PARTY AT BUCKINGHAM PALACE!!!!  I felt sick with nerves every time I thought about it – which was more and more often, the closer the date loomed.

My husband – he’s such a romantic on the quiet! – had arranged for a suite for us at The Savoy, overlooking the river, for two nights, with a lovely bottle of wine chilling in a bucket of ice when we were shown into our suite – which I have to admit, we very much enjoyed drinking.  That was followed by the two of us going downstairs, and enjoying one of The Savoy’s Afternoon Teas.  I’ve always loved Afternoon Tea.  So much so that I’ve been known to decide on whether a hotel is any good or not by the quality of their Afternoon Tea!  The Savoy’s Afternoon Tea is, I am happy to say, the best in London as far as I’m concerned.  Absolutely delicious. 

The following morning – the morning of THE garden party – it all started to seem so very real, when before it had all seemed like a bit of a dream. 

Again, my husband – how I do love that man! – had arranged a surprise for me, in that he had arranged for The Savoy’s chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce (number plate S8 VOY) to drive us to Buckingham Palace, and collect us again at the end of the afternoon.

It was wonderful being driven through London in that lovely Rolls Royce, arriving at the Palace, and ACTUALLY BEING ALLOWED TO GO IN THROUGH THOSE BEAUTIFUL ORNATE GATES.

The gardens at the back of the Palace are extremely lovely; rolling lawns and beautiful beds full of shrubs and flowers.  The sort of garden where you could imagine children playing hide and seek in the bushes, with tree-houses or hammocks amongst the trees.  I hope that they did, and still do!

At four o’clock a dozen Beefeaters appeared in the garden in full Regalia, announcing the arrival of the Queen and the royal family.  The Queen looked lovely in lilac, and Prince Phillips was his usual debonair self in his morning suit, and it seemed incredible to think that they were 86 and 90 years old.  Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall were also there.  And the Duchess of Cambridge looked lovely in pink – Prince William was, unfortunately, on duty, and so couldn’t accompany her.  Prince Harry was his usual friendly and handsome self.  The Princess Royal looked very regal.  Prince and Princess Michael of Kent were also present, and extremely charming.  Plus a number of other minor royals – I was so bedazzled by this time I honestly don’t know who else was there!

Afternoon tea was served all afternoon, a lovely selection of sandwiches and cakes, and hot tea or chilled coffee – and I can honestly say I have never eaten such delicious cucumber sandwiches.  They had put mint leaves in with the cucumber, and somehow turned a bland sandwich into a delight.  The newspapers the follow day stated that each guest at the garden party had eaten an average of thirteen sandwiches – thirteen! – and as I only ate three, and my husband six, I’m curious as to who ate the other seventeen…

It was an incredible, magical afternoon, and one I will never ever forget, along with the honour of the reason I had received the invitation - ‘in recognition of my outstanding service to literature’.

Carole Mortimer



 

COMING SOON - Castonbury Park, the Regency Upstairs Downstairs series

   

                  

       

                   

                                                                                      

On Holiday with Admiral Lord Nelson

My long-suffering husband is used to me asking him to take photographs of the most unlikely objects and places because I have discovered they have a connection to the Georgian era. I had assured him that our latest holiday – a small-ship voyage down the coast of Italy from Venice to Sicily to taste local wines and food – would be safely Georgian-free and he could relax and take pictures of whatever he pleased.

However, I had not reckoned on Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson’s incredible voyage through the Mediterranean in 1798 as he desperately tracked Napoleon’s fleet in a game of hide and seek that began at Gibraltar on May 25th and culminated at the Battle of the Nile off the coast of Egypt on August 1st.

The search was critical to the British. Napoleon was somewhere in the Mediterranean with a large fleet and no-one knew where he would strike – the Kingdom of Naples and Sicily, Greece, Gibraltar which was the last British outpost or Egypt, putting in peril vital trade links with India.
After a frantic search, including missing the French off the Egyptian coast by 25 hours, Nelson, on board his flagship HMS Vanguard, led the fleet into Syracuse on the coast of Sicily on July 21st. The authorities were nervous about admitting the fleet, causing Nelson to rant in dispatches to the Admiralty, but, thanks to the intervention of his friend Sir William Hamilton (his wife Emma famously became Nelson’s mistress) who had influence with the King of Naples, they were finally accommodated. (The picture above shows part of the harbour.)

I discovered this when our guide, standing in front of the fabulous cathedral in the Piazza Duomo, mentioned casually that the Palazzo Beneventano del Bosco (below right) behind us was where Nelson had stayed while the fleet was taking on water and provisions.
That was exciting news – as well as being the great naval hero of the era Nelson was born at Burnham Thorpe a few miles away from where I live, so he’s a local hero for me as well. We managed to get into the inner court, despite the fact that the palace is still in private hands, and it seemed unchanged as we walked through the gateway that Nelson must have used and wondered which window was his bedchamber.

Then the guide took us down almost to the edge of the sea and the beautiful and sacred Spring of Arethusa where fresh water has bubbled up for millennia. This is where the fleet filled its water barrels and Nelson wrote to the Hamiltons –

My dear Friends,
Thanks to your exertions, we have victualled and watered: and surely watering at the Fountain of Arethusa, we must have victory. We shall sail with the first breeze, and be assured I will return either crowned with laurel, or covered with cypress.

The spring, shown left, now has a large planting of papyrus plants in the middle, and archaeologists have discovered that these have been growing on its banks since ancient times. As they are not native outside Egypt it is assumed that someone introduced them, centuries ago, for papermaking. It seems an incredible coincidence that Nelson should be taking water from virtually the one place that grew papyrus outside Egypt when he was destined to meet the French off the coast of that country. No wonder he felt instinctively that it would be lucky for him!

Nelson led his fleet out again on the 25th July, the day after Napoleon had entered Cairo after triumphing at the Battle of the Pyramids. Still with no clue as to where his enemy was, Nelson headed for Cyprus and, by a stroke of luck Captain Troubridge diverted to the Greek coast, captured a French wine brig and spoke to a Turkish official who had news of the French fleet. Still with the wine brig in tow (obviously a man after my own heart!) Troubridge brought Nelson the news.
On August 1st the British fleet met the French in Aboukir Bay, stunned them by engaging immediately despite the lateness of the hour and the battle raged into the night. At 8pm Nelson was wounded in the head but refused to retire to his cabin. Finally the last French ship surrendered late on August 2nd.

The news reached Napoleon on August 13th. His secretary wrote “The catastrophe of Aboukir came like a thunderbolt on the General in Chief.” It was a year before the French finally left Egypt but the trade routes to the East had been saved for the British. After a successful land battle against Ottoman troops at, ironically, Aboukir in August 1799, Napoleon returned to France and seized power.

Syracuse was our last port of call of the holiday so we couldn’t linger and soak up the atmosphere but it has inspired me to seek out another holiday following Nelson’s campaigns in the Mediterranean. Can anyone recommend some equally inspiring locations?

Louise Allen

Summer Beach Bag Giveaway

It's vacation season and excitement mounts as that long-awaited time at the beach approaches. To add to your anticipation, some Harlequin Historical authors are offering a bevy of prizes to fill your beach bag with fun items (and BOOKS of course!) for that relaxation time. Each participating author will have an activity planned on their website for their special day. You may be asked to comment on a blog, do a scavenger hunt, or visit a Facebook page. For each day you participate, your name will be entered into the Grand Prize drawing.

Some Research Notes by Carol Townend

The Palace Brides trilogy is set in Medieval Byzantium. The starting point was a map of the Imperial Palace in Constantinople found on Wikipedia.

(Apologies for the slightly blurry resolution.) The map gives tantalising hints at why the Byzantine era was one of the most fascinating periods in history. There are glittering palaces. There’s a polo field. There are great reception chambers, and baths made from marble. Princesses would have walked through the Palace grounds, great retinues trailing in their wake. The paths and courtyards would have been crowded with lords and ladies, with generals and soldiers, with servants and slaves.

The City of Constantinople was built on the tip of a peninsular, and from the map you can see that the Great Palace was close to the sea walls. There would have been fabulous views of the Sea of Marmara from some of the Palace windows! After finding this map, the idea for the Palace Brides trilogy was born.

My husband and I visited Istanbul (the site of medieval Constantinople) to refine some ideas.  Here are some of the photos.

In the first one I am standing by the ruins of the Hippodrome where the entertainments (circuses, chariot races etc) were held. It gives some idea of the scale, the Hippodrome was HUGE! A scene in the first Palace Bride (Bound to the Barbarian) takes place outside the Hippodrome.
 
At which point I had better add that for the citizens of Constantinople, anyone born outside the Empire was considered to be a barbarian.  My first hero is an Anglo-Saxon, so that definitely puts him in the barbarian category as far as the Byzantines were concerned!  The same goes for the hero of the second book (Chained to the Barbarian).  Sir William Bradfer is an Apulian knight, who has been enslaved.   The heroine first sees him when he is put up for sale in the slave market.
 
Another place we visited in Istanbul is the underground cistern, the Basilica Cistern.   This was a vast chamber in which freshwater was collected for use in the palace.  It's close to Hagia Sophia, on the map its towards the top, at the centre.

The Basilica Cistern  is an extraordinary feat of Byzantine engineering.     It was begun in 532 by the Emperor Justinian, and the engineers used a site where there had been an even earlier cistern.   It has survived the ravages of time and conquest.    Wandering about Istanbul near Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, it's hard to imagine the hidden cistern beneath your feet.   It's vast! 

Down in the cistern, it's so quiet you have no idea that there's a thriving city overhead. The bases of some of the columns show heads that have come to us from Greek mythology. Among other things, you can find the Medusa...

After seeing the cistern, I couldn't resist setting part of Chained to the Barbarian there!  I love research, it's like following a trail, once you start you never quite know where you are going to end up...

Summer Beach Bag Giveaway!

It's vacation season and excitement mounts as that long-awaited time at the beach approaches. To add to your anticipation, some Harlequin Historical authors are offering a bevy of prizes to fill your beach bag with fun items (and BOOKS of course!) for that relaxation time.

Each participating author will have an activity planned on their website for their special day. You may be asked to comment on a blog, do a scavenger hunt, or visit a Facebook page. For each day you participate, your name will be entered into the Grand Prize drawing.

Introducing Our Exciting New Regency Series, Castonbury Park

‘We’re going to do an historical continuity series,’ my editor told me last June. ‘It will be Regency, with an Upstairs/Downstairs theme, and you’d be one of eight authors. What do you think?’

I thought it sounded like a really exciting opportunity, so I leapt at it. Almost a year on, the first book (a prequel not originally scheduled) about to be published, and I think I speak for all eight of us when I say that it was definitely exciting, but also extremely challenging, at times frustrating, seriously time-consuming, and much more complicated than any of us anticipated. It was also great fun, and maybe most importantly, we think that Castonbury Park, which has intrigue, tragedy, and scandalous liaisons galore, is a really different take on the Regency world.

But back in July last year, we were just eight authors in three countries and several different time zones, struggling to understand what on earth we’d got ourselves into. With the first deadlines already looming, we had to come up with a family to provide the heroes and heroines for each of the books, a world for them to live in, a timeframe which complemented our existing historical expertise, and a thread, an overarching story of some sort that would bind all the books together.

Emails came thick and fast as we debated dates, locations and names – you would not believe how many emails and how much research it took to come up with names. As an author you are accustomed to being in charge of creating your own worlds, your own plot, allowing your characters to go in whichever direction you choose, whenever you choose. As part of a continuity team, you are to an extent constrained, something which those of who, like me, prefer their plot-line to be ‘fluid’, found –  well, quite frustrating!. In a continuity series, you must keep your story within the agreed timeframe, maintain the setting and be true to the landscape, make sure that you keep other people’s creations consistent, and, perhaps most difficult of all, you have to commit to taking the overall story forward, while at the same time writing a book that still has your hero and heroine at the forefront. See what I mean about challenging?

After much debate, checking with our editor, more debate, tweaking, checking and double-checking, we agreed to set our series in the aftermath of the Napoleonic wars, which had left our wealthy, aristocratic Montague family in a state of turmoil. One son killed at Waterloo, a missing heir, monstrous debts, and a duke in decline provided the starting point for eight linked but highly original stories. We chose Derbyshire as our setting, a county which is home to one of our authors, we based our stately home on the real-life Kedleston Hall, which two of our group had visited, and we populated it with some key servants who would be present in every story.

But the devil, as they say, is in the detail. It was when we all started writing more or less at the same time, that the complexity of what we had taken on hit us. What colour were the dining room walls? What kinds of food did the new French chef like to serve for dinner? What did the Montague children remember about their dead mother? What games did they play together when they were younger? Who rode, what horse, which carriage? Did the butler start out in service as a boot boy or a second footman? And most challengingly of all, how did the family and household in the next book react to the ending of the previous one – which is a pretty tricky question to answer, when the previous book hasn’t actually been written! Not only did we have to understand our own characters, we had to make sure that the ‘continuity’ characters were consistent. and we to make sure that if we wrote dialogue for someone else’s hero or heroine, it sounded right. Now you can see what I mean about time-consuming – and stressful!

‘We want scandal, scandal, scandal,’ our series editor told us, and Castonbury Park certainly has that, with some outrageous relationships between ‘upstairs’ and ‘downstairs’. While the house and servants are key continuity ‘characters’ which play a role in every book, some of the stories travel further afield to Spain and to India.

The first book, an ‘extra’ prequel which I’ve written, is out on 1^st June. Flirting with Ruin  is a short story which sets the scene for the series and introduces some of the main characters. It’s also a sexy, passionate romance between two people who meet by chance and take a chance on love.

I hope I’ve whetted your appetite for our Regency continuity series. You can be sure you’ll be hearing more from us and from Castonbury Park very soon.

Castonbury Park

Flirting with Ruin (Undone! Prequel) - Marguerite Kaye, June 2012

The Wicked Lord Montague - Carole Mortimer, August 2012

The Housemaid’s Scandalous Secret - Helen Dickson, September 2012

The Lady Who Broke the Rules  - Marguerite Kaye, October 2012

Lady of Shame - Ann Lethbridge, November 2012

The Illegitimate Montague - Sarah Mallory, December 2012

Unbefitting a Lady - Bronwyn Scott, January 2013

Redemption of a Fallen Woman - Joanna Fulford, February 2013

A Stranger at Castonbury - Amanda McCabe, March 2013

There’s excerpts, background and more about Castonbury Park on my website here. I’m always happy to chat on Facebook or Twitter. And if you want to see the ideas and inspiration behind some of my stories, including the two Castonbury books, then check out my boards on Pinterest. 

Harlequin Historical Authors' First "Round Robin"

Lady Ambleforth’s Afternoon Adventure

Does this title intrigue you?  I hope so.  Starting on June 18 some of the Harlequin Historical authors are coming out to play.  They are bringing you a round robin story.  And it will appear right here on this blog, one chapter per day for two weeks.

As you might imagine, it is unlike anything we normally do!

Each day an author will write a chapter following on from the previous one, having never seen it before. No one knows where the story is going,  or where it will end up.  Writing tends to be a solitary endeavor, so this is something different for us. You can imagine how much fun we will be having and the surprises we will spring on each other.

To get our muses fired up, we are going to ask you to participate in the fun.  Get involved as the story develops. See it you can guess what might happen next. Ooh and aah as the surprises roll out.

And perhaps you can tell us which bachelor you think our heroine will decide is a keeper.

So mark your calendars and join the fun.

Mr Oldman Travels to London in 1795

Inevitably in the course of writing a book I find myself working out how my characters get from A to B, how long it takes and what it costs them. I have maps of the period, road books, coaching timetables – but nothing beats original documents, so imagine my delight when I found an original expenses claim on EBay!

Sometime in December 1795 Mr Oldman, an agent of Sir John Musgrave of Edenhall near Penrith, set out on a journey to carry out business for his employer and the expenses claim is the one he sent Sir John on his return. (Prices given below are shown as £ s d ie pounds, shillings and pence).
We do not know why Sir John needed Mr Oldham to travel all the way to Kempton Park via York and London, a journey by modern routes of over three hundred miles each way, but the details of the trip are fascinating for anyone wondering what things cost in the Georgian period.

Mr Oldham started out by sharing a post chaise from Penrith to York with two others. His share of this – the hire of the chaise, driver, turnpike tolls and food cost him £2. 4s 8d and, as no cost for overnight accommodation is given, they must have accomplished the hundred miles in the day. Post chaises were an expensive mode of travel (the total bill for the three men was £6.14s), but it was faster than the public stage. The photograph below is of an original postchaise taken in the Mossman Collection (Luton, England).

Whether it was more comfortable was debateable – they had privacy and were not jammed in with total strangers possessing various degrees of personal hygiene, but the post chaises were not known as Yellow Bounders for nothing and travel sickness was not uncommon. The print below shows a post chaise driven by postillions thundering through the countryside causing chaos – although this one does contain an eloping couple, which might explain it!

Mr Oldham needed a day and a night in York to recover, which cost him 10s 6d before he then set out on the stagecoach for London. The bill for that was £3.3s for his ticket, 4s 6d in tips to the drivers, 5s 6d for his luggage and 11s 6d for eating and drinking on the way.
He would have undoubtedly been exhausted by the time he arrived at the White Horse, Fetter Lane in the City of London. The White Horse was a major coaching inn, dating back to 1766 at least, and it survived until 1899 when it was rebuilt and finally demolished in 1989. He would have expected a good room and food at such a reputable inn.
His room cost Mr Oldham 6s and then on top of that he had to find 4s 11d to tip the maid and the waiter, pay for his hot shaving water and for a cab to take him to the local stage coach stop for the Chertsey stage coach which took him to Kempton Park at a cost of 5s.

Finally, after a couple of meetings with his employer (during the course of which Mr Oldham had to lend him 6s 6d) he caught the stage coach back from London to Penrith, apparently going direct that time. It cost him £5 plus £1 for his luggage and £1.7s 9d in sundry expenses, including tips and food. The photgraph below shows the cramped seating inside a stage coach - imagine sharing these thinly upholstered benches with five other people in their thick travelling clothing for over three hundred miles! (Coach in Mossman Collection).

The entire trip cost Sir John £17. 19s . Price comparisons are not easy, but that is approximately £900 ($1,453) in today’s money.

Find details of my books at www.louiseallenregency.co.uk along with my Et Cetera page of Regency research.

Louise Allen