Category: Bluestocking Belles Page 15 of 51

Sam Clemens, Editor and Proprietor of The Teatime Tattler, favourite newsheet of the ton, regards his brand new expensive Koenig’s steam printing press in disgust.

“What is wrong with this printing press, ladies and gentlemen?” he asks the assembled staff of that celebrated journal of the scandals and idiosyncracies of those in high places.

Printers, typesetters, journalists, and office clerks stare at the gleaming machine, but none is prepared to venture an opinion. It is clear that Mr Clemens is building up a head of steam, and his staff know better than to attract his fire.

He does not, in any case, expect an answer. He will tell them what is wrong. “It is not printing! And why? Because we have no new booked until March!”

He rounds on the assembled personnel, who fall back a step or two in their haste to avoid his accusing eye. “Four weeks of holiday, ladies and gentlemen! Four weeks, I gave you, and have you thought of The Teatime Tattler in that time? I put it to you that you self-evidently have not! Get out there and find news! I have six weeks to fill this month and next, and if it is not filled by this Friday, heads will roll! The rest of the year, too! We have spaces through to December, and authors out there with books to sell and gossip to share. Go on. What are you waiting for! I need stories! I need ladies in despair, men in crisis, mothers in tears, fathers in flight, communities in outrage! Out! Out! Out!”

He herded them towards the door, from the most senior wordsmith to the most junior copy boy.

“And I’d better go myself,” he added, grabbing his hat, a notebook, and several sharpened pencils. “The presses must roll!”

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Church Lady’s Lament

By Bluestocking Belles

On December 4, 2021

In Caroline Warfield, Teatime Tattler

To Reverend Mr. Horace Sorsby, Vicar of Saint John the Evangelist Parish, Knaresborough

Sir:

Reluctant though I am to criticize church matters, I truly must speak up, and hope my frequent liberal contributions to your parish will gain me attention. As you know age and infirmity make it impossible for me to attend services in Knaresborough. While I am pleased that a chapel of ease has been set up here in Harrogate for the benefit of leading citizens like myself who find themselves hampered from full participation, the man assigned it has failed us. I am compelled to report that the curate you appointed to serve my our needs has proven to be negligent and useless.

First of all, his sermons focus entirely too heavily on service due the poor, in my opinion, and too little on the respect the lower classes owe their betters. I suppose I must excuse this as he is young and does seem to have a grasp on scripture.

I excuse it mainly because I am rarely able to attend even the chapel of ease here. That curate, Mr. Eustace Clarke, has been repeatedly asked to attend me at home. We are now moving into December, and I am obliged to report he made but two visits since summer. Neither visit lasted longer than an hour. I ask, Mr. Sorsby, do you believe that shows sufficient care for a frail old woman, one I might add who has generously supported Saint John in the past?

I am quite, quite distressed to add that my precious Wellington, an extraordinarily noble pug, has taken him dislike as well. The impudent young man accused my darling Welly of damaging his boots. I cannot believe poor Welly has developed a taste for leather. He has demonstrated no such affinity in the past. I am certain Mr. Clarke enticed him as an excuse to make a quick departure.

My loyal butler reports that it appears Mr. Clarke persists in wasting his time with that pathetic little soup kitchen he calls Pilgrim’s Rest, feeding every lazy, worthless beggar that imbibes from Harrogate’s public springs but refuses to pay for his lunch. Now news has reached me that he believes he needs funds to repair the roof of that barn. I will not stand for it. I demand you order him to close that fruitless and unproductive little mission down and focus on those of us who support the parish at large as he ought.

If my words have not been enough to convince you the man needs sharp words from his superior there is this. My personal maid, a woman of fine character, has told me that he is now seen walking out with a woman employed in the kitchens of the The Hampton Hotel. What such a woman is doing sporting about town on the arm of a single man, I can only guess. The hussy’s name I’m told is Doro Bigglesworth.

I trust you will counsel your curate about proper behavior and duties. I would hate to take my contributions and charity elsewhere.

With Respect,

Lady Louella Spotsworthy

About the Book: Desperate Daughters

Love Against the Odds

The Earl of Seahaven desperately wanted a son and heir but died leaving nine daughters and a fifth wife. Cruelly turned out by the new earl, they live hand-to-mouth in a small cottage.

The young dowager Countess’s one regret is that she cannot give Seahaven’s dear girls a chance at happiness.

When a cousin offers the use of her townhouse in York during the season, the Countess rallies her stepdaughters.

They will pool their resources so that the youngest marriageable daughters might make successful matches, thereby saving them all.

So start their adventures in York, amid a whirl of balls, lectures, and al fresco picnics. Is it possible each of them might find love by the time the York horse races bring the season to a close.

Among them? “Lady Dorothea’s Curate,” by Caroline Warfield

Employed at a hotel in order to assist her stepmother, Lady Dorothea Bigglesworth had no use for a title. It would only invite scorn, or, worse, pity. Plain Miss Doro Bigglesworth suited her fine.

Ben Clarke dedicated his life to helping the neediest. It gave his life meaning. He tended to forget the younger son of a viscount went by “Honorable.”

Working together at Pilgrim’s Rest, neither saw the need to mention it to the other, before fate separated them. When they were formally introduced after an unexpected reunion— in a ballroom in York—shock rocked them both. Can their budding love survive?

You can find links to various vendors here: https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/desperate-daughters/

Damsels in Distress Take York by Storm — Love Against the Odds?

By Bluestocking Belles

On November 20, 2021

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

The women who call themselves the Bluestocking Belles are at it again, Sam — invading another set of lives and writing a series of tell-all stories. And people call the Tattler a scandal rag!

This one will be out next year, but I should be able to scrape a few details from the Belles and their friends before then. This year, Meara Platt, Ella Quinn, Mary Lancaster, and Alina K. Field have joined the Belles for the collection.

So far, what I’ve discovered is that all the stories are about one family and their connections.

You may remember the jokes and gossip a few years back when the Earl of Seahaven took his fifth bride, and her young enough to be his granddaughter? And a baker’s daughter, at that. Then he died before the first year was out. All jokes about stamina and demanding young brides aside, it was a terrible thing for the girl, especially when the child she was carrying at the time was not the Earl’s longed-for son, but a ninth daughter.

The new earl, a distant cousin, decided that he had no responsibility for the upkeep of ten females. The dowager countess was left to her own devices, with her own baby girl and eight step-daughters.

That was three years ago, more or less. The latest news will be in the Bluestocking Belles’ new collection of stories. Apparently, the ladies have managed to somehow afford a York Season! There’ll be more than the races to amuse the Polite World this year. It’ll be intriguing to see how many suitors are willing to take on a bride with a very small dowry and a whole platoon of sisters.

I’ll be digging around some more, Sam, and I’ll certainly let you know what I find out.

Oh! And the collection is called Desperate Daughters. Catchy title, that, and it says it all, really. This should be a lot of fun!

***

The Duke’s Missing Lady!

By Sherry Ewing

On November 13, 2021

In Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

To our devoted readers!

This just in…

It has come to the Teatime Tattler’s attention (by a very reliable source I might add) that the woman who recently held the Duke of H’s heart has gone missing! Apparently the man is beside himself and has sent out inquires to all corners of London and beyond. Perhaps Lady R is only hiding from the man given her last encounter with him and his ex-mistress. Or is her disappearance subject to a nefarious nature? Stay tuned for further updates and remember you read it here first.

S. Clemons, Editor
The Teatime Tattler

Samuel Clemons read this latest tidbit from Abigail Danvers and grinned. His readers will go mad with the news that the Duke of Hartford lost the lady whom some have whispered was a love match. Love… what a silly emotion getting the better of oneself.

His office door opened and Samuel handed the parchment to the young gentleman whose ink-stained fingers implied he had been busy in the press room.

“Make this a special edition,” Samuel declared with a smirk. “I want it on the front page and not buried inside. Our readers deserve to see this first thing with their breakfast.”

“Yes, sir!”

Samuel watched the man leave before leaning back in his chair. A laugh escaped him. He loved his job and was satisfied the Teatime Tattler would be sold out come the morning. Tomorrow was going to be a glorious day.

Sherry Ewing is one of the Bluestocking Belles and her Regency novel One Moment In Time: A Family of Worth, Book Two was nominated as a 2019 RONE finalist with InD’Tale. Enjoy this excerpt.

Excerpt:

Edmond opened his eyes and found himself gazing into the face of an angel. Emerald pools, green as the Scottish moors, stared back at him with an expression of wonder. He reached out to lightly caress her cheek just to ensure she was real. She trembled beneath his touch and he thanked God Roselyn had awoken once more.

Swinging his legs down to the floor, he stood and reached for her hands to help her to rise. Her beautiful face wore a confused frown, and without thought he acted on the urge to assure himself she was real and on the mend, bringing her into his embrace. He knew in his heart his gesture was inappropriate; he should not be so bold, especially considering all that she had been through, but he could not resist.

Stepping back as he should became impossible when she returned his affection by placing her arms around his waist. As if they had a will of their own, his hands made their way up her arms and into her glorious curling hair that cascaded down the length of her back. It felt like the softest silk to his touch and a lock coiled around his fingers taking possession of him.

He took her chin in his fingers and tilted it up so he could see the face she had been hiding in his chest. Once more staring into her eyes, he saw her lips tremble and wondered how sweet they would taste. Leaning forward, he came to within a breath and hesitated. But only for one second. At last, he brought his mouth down to hers in a gentle first kiss.

There could be no mistaking her hesitation nor that she was inexperienced in her technique. Edmond retained enough control to remember she was a young innocent and he did not wish to scare her away. His heart rejoiced when he felt her arms creep up his back and he tightened his hold upon her. One taste would in no way satisfy the sudden desire he had for her and her encouragement gave him the permission he needed to deepen the kiss all the more.

His sanity finally reined in his desire, and he broke the spell by ending their kiss abruptly. Alarm briefly shook him when Roselyn took several steps backwards to put some distance between them. In the silence of the room, the only sound was the two of them attempting to catch their breaths after the heat of the moment.

One moment in time may be enough, if it lasts forever…

When the man Lady Roselyn Anne Winslow has loved since she was a young girl begins to court her, Roselyn thinks all her dreams have come true… until the dream turns into a nightmare.

Lady Roselyn is everything Edmond Worthington, 9th Duke of Hartford, could ask for in a wife and he is delighted to find she returns his love… until he loses her, not once but twice.

From England’s ballrooms, to Berwyck Castle and a tropical island that is anything but paradise, Edmond and Roselyn face ruthless enemies who will do anything to tear them apart. Can they recover their one moment in time?

Buy Links:

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More about Sherry

Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. When not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist. You can learn more about Sherry and her books on her website where a new adventure awaits you on every page at www.SherryEwing.com.

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Appalling Upstart Attempts Assault on York Society

By Bluestocking Belles

On October 23, 2021

In Bluestocking Belles, Teatime Tattler

To the Countess of Arglay

April 1817, York

Dearest sister

I have just had the most appalling shock, and in church of all places! The nerve of the woman! I could not believe my eyes! I thought she was safely tucked back into the obscure little village from whence she came, never to bother us again, but there she was! And all those useless females with her!

But I get ahead of myself, Drusilla, and you will not wonder at it when I tell you. Let me start again, and tell you in order this time.

You will remember that, when my beloved Seahaven inherited his title from that awful old profligate, we discovered that the old earl had left his daughters mostly unprovided for. And so many of them, Drusilla! Not only his daughters, but the jumped-up baker’s daughter he took as his fifth wife. A tradeswoman as Countess of Seahaven! Have you ever heard the like? It is true that there is no fool like an old fool, and after four marriages and nine daughters, I imagine he was desperate, or–more likely–she trapped him for his title. She was pretty enough, the little chit. Just eighteen, too, when they met, and men do like them young.

When the old earl died, That Woman was with child, as you will recall. I have never prayed so fervently in my life. My prayers were answered and she was delivered of the old fool’s tenth daughter.

By then, Seahaven and I had discovered that his predecessor had left the care and guardianship of his daughters to the baker’s daughter. “Let her have them,” I said to my lord. “What use are they, after all. They will eat us out of hearth and home, and expect us to puff them off, at great expense, on the marriage mart.”

We turned them out, of course. The baker and his wife died just a few days after the little brat was born, so it was not as if they had nowhere to go. That Woman took all ten girls and moved into her parents’ cottage, and I thought that was the last I saw of them.

But Drusilla, on Sunday, I arrived at York Minster–you must know that Seahaven and I have come to York to enjoy the Season and so that Seahaven can indulge his fondness for what he endearingly calls the ‘geegees’. At York Minster, as I was saying, what did I see but That Woman and all of those girls (though some of them are ape-leaders, and one calls them girls only by courtesy, since they are well into their dotage).

It is true, dearest. That Woman led them down the aisle to a front pew, every one of them turned out in the highest fashion. Where did she get the money? That is what I would like to know. How have they been living? I tell you, Drusilla, there is only one way that a woman of that kind could earn enough to give all of those daughters a Season, even in York. And it is not one that ladies like you and I would ever mention.

The upstart and the daughters are being seen everywhere. She is a distant connection of the St Aubyns, and is trading on their name and her dead husband’s title in the most shameless manner, puffing herself and the daughters off before every title and banknote in York. A number of hostesses have been taken in, and Lady Twisden even gave me the most unpleasant set down when I tried to put a group of ladies right about the imposter’s real nature and lack of class. How was I to know that Lady Twisden was herself a St Aubyn, and sister to That Woman’s mother before she disgraced herself and her class and ran off with a baker.

I do not know what That Woman hopes to achieve. She cannot imagine that any man would be fool enough to link himself to females who are the next best thing to destitute, especially when several of them have been heard to declare that any suitors must love their sisters and their stepmama as well as themselves.

I have no patience with such nonsense, Drusilla. As our parents so rightly taught us, marriage at our level of society is about linking two families of quality to the benefit of each. Nattering about love is precisely the sort of lower-class drivel I would expect from That Woman.

You can be sure I shall do everything I can to open the eyes of any man who allows That Women or her protegees to tempt him away from his duty to marry for the right reasons.

I shall keep you informed in my next.

Your loving sister

Marjorie Seahaven

Patience, Dowager Countess of Seahaven is only twenty-two, and has been head of her household of stepdaughters since she was nineteen. When she is given free use of a townhouse in York, she seizes the chance to give her adult stepdaughters a season. With everyone in the household doing their best to disguise their impoverished circumstances and make a splash on the York scene, they hope to at least find a match for the youngest of the adults, Josefina and the twins, Ivy and Iris.

Look for Desperate Daughters, the next Bluestocking Belles and Friends collection, nine stories in which the Countess, her stepdaughters, and other family members find a happily ever after. Available for prerelease soon, and published in May 2022.

Because history is fun and love is worth working for

Category: Bluestocking Belles Page 15 of 51

If the Presses Can’t Roll, Heads Must!

Can You Help Sam’s Staff Keep Their Heads?

Church Lady’s Lament

About the Book: Desperate Daughters

Love Against the Odds

Among them? “Lady Dorothea’s Curate,” by Caroline Warfield

Damsels in Distress Take York by Storm — Love Against the Odds?

The Duke’s Missing Lady!

Appalling Upstart Attempts Assault on York Society