Category: Bluestocking Belles Page 3 of 48

Your tip was a good one, Sam, though none of the villagers of Rorrington will admit to sending it. They had a front-seat row to the goings on at Thorn Abbey, and you’ll be pleased to know that even out here, they’ve all heard about the scandal of the Earl of Spenhurst and his bride. Indeed, since the wedding was at their own Thorn Abbey, and some of the main actors stayed at the village inn at the time in question, they feel quite a sense of ownership.

Rorrington is a tiny village in the wilds of Shropshire, with the border of Wales so close in two directions that, or so the local joke goes, if your cow runs away, you have to go to another country to get it back.

They keep their own counsel, here. Certainly, the lord that owns Thorn Abbey heard nothing of what I am about to relate to you, for nobody can appear less intelligent than a countryman of Shropshire who doesn’t want to answer a question.

But the Teatime Tattler’s sympathetic treatment of the earl and countess had acted as my introduction, and so I am hopeful that, by the end of my visit here, I’ll have as much of the story as these people know.

It seems that the Earl of Yarverton used to be the owner of Thorn Abbey. The ownership was to pass to the Marquess of Deerhaven as part of the marriage agreement between their children, but I don’t know what will happen to it now. But I get ahead of myself.

What I can tell you so far is that Deerhaven’s son was delivered to Thorn Abbey in chains and Yarverton and Deerhaven arranged for the local vicar to perform a marriage ceremony between him and Yarverton’s daughter.

Young Spenhurst dug his toes in and said he would marry Miss Miller or no one. He wouldn’t consent to the marriage, and the good vicar refused to go ahead with the ceremony. Apparently, after he left the mansion, Yarverton beat the poor young man so badly that one of Deerhaven’s guards had to intervene to stop the assault from becoming a murder.

Remember, that the boy was chained!

What happened after that? I hope to know more tomorrow, when I meet with a fellow who was a footman at the Abbey at the time. But I have been able to confirm that there was a wedding a few weeks later, that the two fathers left the Abbey satisfied that the marriage had been consummated, and that the young couple left a few days later. Looking happy, say those who saw the carriage on its way.

The bride must have been Yarverton’s daughter, surely. So what happened to Miss Miller? And who were the couple seen recently in Leicestershire?

***

For the solution to the mystery, read Weave Me a Rope, currently on preorder and released on 26th January. Weave Me a Rope is Book 5 in A Twist Upon a Regency Tale, and is inspired by Rapunzel.

Weave Me a Rope

By Jude Knight

When the Earl of Spenhurst declares his love for a merchant’s niece, he is locked away in a tower. Spen won’t get out, the marquess, his father says, until he agrees to an arranged marriage.

After the marquess unceremoniously ejects Cordelia Milton from his country mansion, she is determined to rescue her beloved, but it all goes horribly wrong.

She needs time to recover from her injuries, and Spen has been moved across the country under heavy guard. It seems impossible for two young lovers to overcome the selfish plans of two powerful peers, but they won’t give up.

Click below to buy.

Meet Blaise Arquette, formerly of Wellington’s Army

By Susana Ellis

On December 16, 2023

In Bluestocking Belles, Regency (19th century Britain), Susana Ellis, Teatime Tattler

Blaise Arquette has just returned from a position at the Home Office where he had served since Waterloo. Prior to that he served nearly two decades in the War with France, lately as an exploring officer with the Duke of Wellington. Just one day prior to this scene, he had met a lovely seamstress in his brother’s haberdashery shop. The rest of Blaise and Susana’s story, A Seamstress, a Soldier, and a Secret will appear in an updated version of Desperate Daughters, which you can get for free in January 2024 if you have previously purchased the ebook version.

You can meet Susana Bigglesworth here.

18 December 1816

Leeds, West Yorkshire

Early afternoon

Blaise knew that finding work would not be an easy task; his time at the Home Office had shown him that. Soldiers and sailors trudging London streets desperately trying to feed their families, many reduced to begging in the streets. Those who returned without limbs had even less to hope for; they would end among the parish poor, no doubt in some workhouse or another. He always felt a flutter of guilt when he came upon them; wishing there were some way to help them but at the same time perceiving that, but for the grace of God, he might even now be among them.

He at least had his brother to fall back on, although he had no intention of remaining a hanger-on. He had no clear idea of what sort of position he might find; the skills he had mastered in the Army—namely marksmanship, horsemanship, map drawing, and writing—were not transferable to any sort of trade he could think of. The government was eliminating positions right and left as the post-war economy hurtled the country toward disaster, his own with the Home Office included.

That morning he rose early, determined to do a bit of reconnaissance in the neighborhood to assess the situation. The tradesmen he chatted with were impressed with his military service, but few were taking on employees, and even fewer—none actually—were the sort of jobs suitable for Blaise. Young boys who could be apprenticed to learn a trade without pay had more choices than he, he mused grimly. Returning to France to fight for his inheritance might be his only option.

Heading back to Fanshawe & Sons, he noticed a tradesman’s carriage harnessed to a pair of black Percherons, Macclesfield Silks painted on the side. Inside, he found his brother and Louise poring over ells of colorful fabric arrayed on the counter, a stranger—presumably the silk merchant—running his hand over the wares.

“Thomas Pemberton,” he introduced himself after Benoît had presented him. “Grandson of Joseph, founder of Macclesfield Silks.”

Pemberton was middle-aged, a few streaks of gray in his dark hair, hazel eyes, and a jovial manner. He regarded Blaise with new respect when he heard of his military career.

“Served with the duke, did you? This country is in your debt, sir.” He tilted his head and regarded Blaise with furrowed brows. “So, what does a soldier with your experience do with himself after the war is over?”

Blaise grinned wryly. “I’m still looking for the answer to that, Pemberton. There doesn’t seem to be much of a use for soldiers in peacetime.”

“Thomas. Do call me Thomas.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Look, I may have something that will suit. I’m short an assistant at present, a traveling man to demonstrate our wares to shops like your brother’s.” He blew out a puff of air. “This,” he said waving at the wagon in front of the shop, “isn’t my strong suit and I’m needed at the mill. Is this something you could consider, for the present, at least? I might have something better in the future.”

Blaise’s eyes widened. “Certainly,” he said slowly, unwilling to dismiss any possibility. “But I don’t know much about silk.”

Thomas laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That can be rectified,” he asserted. “Come and see me in Macclesfield after the holiday, and I’ll show you around the mill, introduce you to the weavers, give you a bit of an apprenticeship. If it’s not to your taste, you’ll at least come away with a better acquaintance with the textile industry.”

Benoît and Louise looked at him hopefully. Blaise chuckled. “I can see you are already anticipating the discount for silk wares for the shop.”

Turning to Thomas, he held out an arm. “I’m honored to accept the offer, sir.”

Louise squealed, and Susana, needle and thread in hand, peeked out of her “office” to investigate. “Oh, the silks are here,” she exclaimed, misunderstanding the situation. “I can’t wait to see them! I shall be out as soon as I finish the hem on Miss Delphi’s dinner dress. I expect her momentarily for a final fitting.” She rushed back into her workroom.

Thomas appeared momentarily stunned by her appearance. Noticing his interest, Louise said helpfully, “That’s Susana, Miss Bigglesworth. She’s our modiste.”

Running his hands through his hair, Thomas swallowed. “I beg your pardon, but she looks familiar. Although I can’t place her. Or the name.”

“She’s from Harrogate,” Louise offered. “Comes from a family of ten sisters.”

“Ten!” Thomas’s eyes widened. But then he shook his head. “Doesn’t bring back anything. It’ll come to me, I suppose.”

He straightened his back and offered his hand first to Benoît and then to Blaise, subsequently tipping his hat for Louisa.

“I thank you for your business, sir,” he said to Benoît, and then to Blaise: “I’ll write you soon, Mr. Arquette, er, Blaise. We’ll expect to see you in Macclesfield after the New Year.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” Blaise accompanied him out of the shop to the driver’s seat of the wagon, beginning to feel hopeful for the first time in a while.

Desperate Daughters

This story was written for the readers of the original version of Desperate Daughters who expressed concern over the absence of Susana’s story, since she played a key part in the other sisters’ stories.

Her story deserves to be told.

Susana Ellis is a retired teacher, part-time caregiver, sewist, cook, and fashion print collector. Lifelong reading and a fascination with history led her to writing historical romances.

After January 1, 2024:

To update your Kindle book version, go to Manage Your Content and Devices. Search for Desperate Daughters. If available, select Update Available, then select Update.)

Shocking scandal rocks village just before Christmas

By Jude Knight

On November 18, 2023

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

My dearest Madeline

You will never believe who I met coming out of the church this morning. You shall not be able to guess, so I shall tell you. Lissette Parslow.

Yes, I know. We were both certain she would never dare to show her face in Fairview again. Not after what she did. But there she was, chatting to the vicar for all the world as if butter would not melt in her mouth. You would think Vicar would know better, for he was curate back then, when it all happened.

But there. He is too good for this world, as I’m sure all of Fairview would agree, and that wife of his encourages him in his misplaced kindness. Well. She would, would she not? We do not forget that she remained friends with Lissie Parslow even after it became obvious what the trollop had been up to. Yes, and who with, for who else could it have been, when she never left the manor, and him with an eye for a pretty girl, as all the village knew–and most of England, too, come to that.

“Lissie Parslow,” I said to her. “You have come back.” I should have thought my expression was enough to put the fear of God into her, for she knows what she did. But she always was a pert baggage. The countess made too much of her, and I always said so, did I not, Madeline?”

“I am Mrs Penworth now,” she replied. “And is it still Miss Albright?”

The cheek of it, Madeline. “Is there a Mr Penworth?” I snapped back. A fair question, given her history!

“Now, now, ladies,” said the vicar. “A little Christmas charity, if you would be so kind.”

So I put him on the spot, right there in front of the brazen hussy. “Do you suppose, vicar,” I said, “that Christian charity applies to those who seduced their lady’s husband and got themselves with child?”

You will never, in a million years, guess what he said. I tell you true, Madeline. He said, “Yes, that is exactly what I suppose. I also suppose that we are instructed not to judge the circumstances of others, when we do not know the facts. Judge not, Miss Albright, lest ye be judged.”

I was so shocked, I did not know what to say, and before I could recover, they both said good day. The Parslow woman–or Penworth, if that is her real name–walked off along the road, and Vicar went back into the church.

But that is not the whole story. On Sunday, when I went to church, she was there, sitting with a man whom I must suppose is Penworth, whether she is married to him or not. Madeline, they were sitting in the earl’s pew with the new earl himself, and with a girl of about the age our dear departed countess was when she came to our village. I could not see her face from where I was sitting, but I had to suppose she was Lissie Parslow’s daughter, and how she came to be sitting in the earl’s pew, I could not fathom.

Not, at least, until the homily was over and the vicar invited the earl to stand up and speak. What he had to say, Madeline, changed everything.

Find out more in A Countess by Christmas, by Jude Knight, a novella in Christmastide Kisses, the Bluestocking Belles with Friends collection that is coming out on 26th December.

Story blurbs and the buy links for the book will be added to our project page over the next week.

A new woman seeks to marry from an advert! She shall not have him!

By Cerise DeLand

On October 28, 2023

In Cerise Deland, gossip, Historical Period, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

I write to you today, dear Tattler, to tell of an outrage in my village. What do you say to a lady who sails all the way from London to the south shore of Wales, all to get a husband?

And to take one who has advertised to get you to come hither?

Is that not a ridiculous venture?

Sight unseen to agree to travel hundreds of miles to a sordid little town and devilihs house like the tumbledown Rambles of the barons of Rhouse and Gary? This is a sprawling, ugly monstrosity built by Normans, kept by men who made their living stealing what bounty floated up from the shores.

A wicked house it is too. Filled with wicked men who take women for their money and their land. Hollow men who fill themselves up with the dowries of naive girls and who ravaged them…and any others they wish.

The barons of this house and this lineage are thieves and charlatans. What woman would want such a man as husband?

I didn’t. Yet I had to. My father demanded it of me and where else was I to go, sicne my fiance’s father had already defiled me, eh?

Now this girl comes. Silly thing. She will not have this new baron to wed. I will see to it.

Warn your female readers not to accept a man’s hand if they know him not. It is not wise. It is not safe.

I warn you. Do not answer an advert to become a wife of a Welsh baron. He had only danger and heartache in store for you.

Sincerely,

~ Desperate Lady

*****

When a young widow wishes to marry again, will the man she grows to love ask more than she can give?

Mrs. Tynley Wallingford yearns for a quiet, comforting marriage to a man whom she can respect. She’ll go to any lengths to find the best candidate who can respect her, in turn. Even correspond with one fellow at length before she agrees that Kendryck Hollens is the man whose words awaken her desire for a husband she might grow to love.

Tynley takes a risk and sails to Wales with the best intentions. She finds in Kendryck a man with a noble ambition—and a family filled with age-old conflict and despair.

Kendryck Hollens returns home to Wales after fifteen years abroad, a stranger to his cantankerous family. He assumes his rightful title as baron of the legendary house of Strade and attempts to change the dastardly reputation of his ancestors, and put his siblings on the right path to a purposeful life.

Thrilled that Tynley has come to his home, he notices that her presence creates challenges among those in his family. But he feels assured she can help him obtain what he wants most in this world.

When a tragedy threatens to ruin his ambition and his family, he fears the price of endurance will ruin Tynley’s personal objective too—and drive her from him.

How much can one ask of one whom they love? Are any prices too high?

*****

Kendryck put his two hands to her cheeks. “I told myself I would not take you like a villain.”

“Hmmm,” Tynely said as she considered that with a tip of her head this way and that. Then she pulled at the end of his beautifully tied cravat and said, “You aren’t.”

He took her by the shoulders. “Not against the stables, not in a carriage. We must be in a bed.”

“I do agree.” She sank to lick the skin of his corded neck. “But one must have a few bites of bliss before the main course.” She undid the button of his soft linen shirt and kissed the hollow of his throat. “Otherwise, one’s appetite is not prepared.”

He laughed, he groaned, then he pressed her flush to his chest. “You should have told me you were a tease.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why? Isn’t this more fun?”

He hooted. His grip on her was mighty and seductive. “What should I know, my darling?”

“About…?”

“Making love to you.”

She bent to his mouth and licked his bottom lip. “That I will be as needy as you.”

“Thank God.”

“That I will want all of you as mine.”

“I rejoice at it. And? Anything else?”

“That I am yours completely and you may have me at your will,” she whispered and took one of his fingers and nipped the end, “as long as I may have you at mine.”

BUY LINK: https://books2read.com/u/4jBX90

Cerise DeLand is the USA TODAY Bestselling Author who believes love brings rich rewards from a life lived with honesty, valor—and a functioning funnybone.

Known for her poetic elegance and accuracy of detail, she’s won awards for many of the more than 70 novels she’s written.

Her work has been nearly life-long! First published in 1991 by Kensington, then Pocket Books, St. Martin’s Press and independent presses, she is now published by DRAGONBLADE PUBLISHING. Plus her books have been monthly selections of the Doubleday Book Club and the Mystery Guild.

To research, she’s dived into the oldest texts and dustiest library shelves. She travels abroad taking good walking shoes, big notebooks, trusty pens and a camera! She visits chateaux and country homes she loves to people with her own imaginary characters.

And at home every day? She cooks. (Every night.) Never dusts. (That can be a problem.) She goes swimming or pumps iron once a week and tries (desperately) to grow vegetables in her arid backyard in south Texas!

Website:

https://www.cerisedeland.com

AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/Cerise-DeLand/e/B0089DS2N2/

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The gossip we learn when we travel…

By Sherry Ewing

On October 21, 2023

In Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

Prudence and Abigail Danvers glided down the stairs of the Book & Bell Inn and entered the dining area looking for a place to sit. The place was crowded for this evening but luckily, they were able to find an empty table. A young woman of perhaps four and twenty years with blonde hair and blue eyes, came to take their order for their dinner. Soon, a soothing pot of tea was placed before them. It was welcome after their travels.

“Whatever are we doing here of all places, sister? You know how I detest the country,” Prudence complained to her sibling and glanced about the room.

Abigail patted her hair, not that even a strand was out of place. “You know how much I love the Harvest Festival they have here every year. Besides, we just might find a new piece of juicy gossip to send Mr. Clemens.”

“Do you not grow tired of writing for the Teatime Tattler? Once of these days, we shall be the topic of gossip and then what will you think of that paper,” Prudence huffed looking around the room.

“Samuel Clemens pays well for the gossip we supply. We are hardly the only reporters who provide fodder for his rag.” Abigail took a sip of her tea until the door to the inn opened. Two handsome gentlemen entered along with a young boy. They went to one of the booths near the back of the room. “This place just became a little more interesting.”

Several minutes later, the door to the inn opened again. This time the man entering drew the attention of both sisters. Black hair in need of a trim and amber eyes that would cause any lady to swoon swept the room until they found his companions. His limp as he began making his way toward the table was unmistakable.

“Is that not―” Prudence began with wide eyes.

“Yes. I think it is. I wonder where he has been for all these years,” Abigail said with a wicked grin.

A man came from the kitchen and welcomed his newest guest, and it was clear Lord Brandon Worthington was known in these parts. But when the same lady who had recently served their table took hold of Lord Brandon’s ale and dumped it over his head, Abigail’s squeals of delight were muffled by the gasps that echoed in the room from the other diners.

Prudence reached over and took hold of her sister’s arm. “Abigail… no,” she warned.

Abigail’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Oh, Prudence, do not be such a ninny! This is just what the Teatime Tattler needs in their next edition, and you know it.”

The sisters would write their note to Mr. Clemens once they had finished their dinner knowing a few coins would once again be lining their reticules. It was always amazing what sort of gossip you could find when you traveled!

********************************

This is an original piece by Bluestocking Belle Sherry Ewing. Lord Brandon Worthington and Miss Hannah Pownell are the current characters in A Love Beyond Time: A Family of Worth, Book Three. This novella is Sherry’s contribution to the Belles’ latest boxset Under the Harvest Moon. Abigail and Prudence Danvers are Sherry’s revolving characters that write and report gossip for the Teatime Tattler. Perhaps one day, they’ll get a story of their own. Read on for an excerpt from Sherry’s novella and to learn more about the boxset.

Excerpt:

Hannah stared out across the pond and beyond to the field of dying flowers. She hugged her shawl around her shoulders for comfort. It had taken her four days to come to terms with Brandon Worthington’s return to the area. Four days of crying. Four days of suppressed anger from all the hurt that rose to the surface at one glimpse of him. Four days of listening to bits and pieces of gossip of his war service and subsequent injury when the locals came to dine at the inn. She hadn’t hung around long enough after she dumped his ale over his head to see him limping for herself, but someone always seemed to be talking about Captain Brandon Worthington’s return.

Hannah sighed. Four days… Such a small amount of time considering he had kept her waiting six long years for him to come back to her. She could hardly say he had actually come back to her! She closed her eyes remembering how she had cherished the letters he had sent the first two years after he left. She had read them so many times, that she had memorized each and every word. And then…nothing. No word. No more letters. Just silence. After six additional years of waiting, she had given up hope. After all, how long was she supposed to wait for a man’s return?

After she had dumped his drink over his head, she refused to apologize to the man despite her parent’s anger that she had treated a guest in such a manner. He deserved it and more! She supposed her sudden actions had been immature and childish but at the time her behavior had seemed appropriate. But even when Brandon sent a note asking for her to meet with him, she had refused to answer his message or give him the satisfaction of knowing she been pining away for him all these years.

So, what was she doing waiting for him to show up in their spot? He hadn’t sent another message for her to meet him here, after all. She just assumed the man would show up and maybe this was the crux of her problem. She had missed him terribly and no other man, including Randall or Gilbert, had held even an ounce of her affection since the day Brandon Worthington left Reabridge. Her love had been wasted on a man who hadn’t even given her any sort of an explanation as to his long absence. Yet here she was… waiting for him on the off chance he would know her well enough to realize she would be here… waiting… The anticipation was going to kill her!

Hannah was just about to forget this whole foolish idea when the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel road reached her ears. They came to a halt a few moments later and soon the sound of someone’s uneven gait walking across the small wooden bridge announced his arrival. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath to calm her already frayed nerves before she turned.

A Love Beyond Time: A Family of Worth, Book Three
By Sherry Ewing

Can love at first sight be reborn after heartbreak, proving a second chance is all you need?

Miss Hannah Pownall fell for a young lord years ago, only to see him leave. After no word from him in eight years, he returns to their small town, wounded and broken. Now, Hannah must reconcile her old feelings with the heartbreak he caused, knowing he plans to stay.

Captain Brandon Worthington returns to the town of Reabridge to recover from the war. He never expected to find the girl he once loved still unwed. Now, he must prove to her that he never forgot her.

Hannah and Brandon’s journey is complicated by their respective pasts, but ultimately, they must decide whether second chances are worth taking a risk. Will they be able to navigate the obstacles thrown their way to find the happily ever after they both deserve?

Under the Harvest Moon:
A Bluestocking Belles Collection with Friends

As the village of Reabridge in Cheshire prepares for the first Harvest Festival following Waterloo, families are overjoyed to welcome back their loved ones from the war.

But excitement quickly turns to mystery when mere weeks before the festival, an orphaned child turns up in the town—a toddler born near Toulouse to an English mother who left clues that tie her to Reabridge.

With two prominent families feuding for generations and the central event of the Harvest Moon festival looming, tensions rise, and secrets begin to surface.

Nine award winning and bestselling authors have combined their talents to create this engaging and enchanting collection of interrelated tales. Under the Harvest Moon promises an unforgettable read for fans of Regency romance.

Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/UnderHarvestMoon

About the Author:

Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. An award-winning and 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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