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Gossip from a Taproom Vagrant

jan_baptist_lambrechts_attr-_-_at_the_tavernI can only say that it is a good thing Mr. Clemens located a prime investigator inside the Duchess of Haverford’s Hopeful Hearts house party because I, intrepid reporter, find myself a marooned at a third rate inn along a road that has become impassible with mud and rutted beyond use. My post chaise broke an axel in the stuff. Here I sit. Tomorrow being Christmas I will go no further for now.

The ale here is poor but abundant, and, with naught else to do, I have stationed myself in the taproom to pick up what miserable crumbs I might. I have not come up empty handed.

I no more ordered my third pint when a horseman swept in, grimaced over a mug of rancid cider, and left. Folks on horseback may travel as they will, but carriage traffic has all but disappeared. I tried to hire a horse with the pittance Clemens gives me for expenses and could not. (More about that later) This man’s horse, a peculiar specimen, stood in the courtyard looking so cool I would have thought it a fresh mount, not one that had been given water and sent on its way again.

The innkeeper acted in awe of the man who stood well over the common height and possessed both dark skin as well as hair. Unlike the innkeeper, I knew the man: he who pretends to be Elfingham, heir in waiting to the Duke of Winshire. He chases the Belvoir chit no doubt, or her brother’s consequence rather, his own being not worth a pittance. Everyone knows he is after her in hopes to shore up the family’s pretense of legitimacy. He swept from the place like the furies pursued him, dark robe flapping in the wind.

Not three hours passed when a groom came in to say a carriage lumbered up the road putting a lie to everyone’s belief that none might make it through. The greedy publican hastened to the door and the rest of the room to the windows to see who had made it so far. I watched it go by with my own eyes, a top of the trees equipage if ever I saw one. I saw the ducal crest as well: The Duke of Haverford. I doubt the old duke bothered to attend his wife’s do. Aldridge, on the other hand, can never resist a party full of beautiful women. It was he, I am certain, and there will be delicious stories to uncover, if only I can get to the Hall and insinuate myself through the kitchen.

Just when the taproom began to settle for the night, yet another carriage arrived, this one less well fated, and obviously unable to go further. A frantic young man, a cit as I live and breathe and a Hebrew—one with a French accent at that— began to berate the innkeeper, obviously desperate to get to Hollystone Hall. Why, I don’t know. No young woman of gentle enough birth to attend a duchess’s house party would entertain such a one as a suitor. I did hear him mention Baumann, the banker. Perhaps he has business with the duchess or with Aldridge. That must be it. Our readers might like to know what.

Here is the odd part. He demanded a horse, and I knew well there were none. Had the innkeeper not refused to hire one out to me? Money talks. Horses were found. Before too long he left with two nags, one a miserable hack and the other, obviously a carriage horse, with his bags loaded on it. Off he went, while I, good Christian citizen of His Majesty’s fair land that I am, remained here with naught but a bench to sleep upon.

franz_adam_-_the_stable_lad

_______________________________________________________

What happened to these holiday travelers? Find out in Holly and Hopeful Hearts, available now from various retailers. 25% of proceeds will go to the Malala Fund.

hollyhopefulheartsAbout the Book

When the Duchess of Haverford sends out invitations to a Yuletide house party and a New Year’s Eve ball at her country estate, Hollystone Hall, those who respond know that Her Grace intends to raise money for her favorite cause and promote whatever marriages she can. Eight assorted heroes and heroines set out with their pocketbooks firmly clutched and hearts in protective custody. Or are they?

 

 

About the Stories

A Suitable Husband, by Jude Knight

As the Duchess of Haverford’s companion, Cedrica Grenford is not treated as a poor relation and is encouraged to mingle with Her Grace’s guests. Surely she can find a suitable husband amongst the gentlemen gathered for the duchess’s house party. Above stairs or possibly below.

Valuing Vanessa, by Susana Ellis

Facing a dim future as a spinster under her mother’s thumb, Vanessa Sedgely makes a practical decision to attach an amiable gentleman who will not try to rule her life.

A Kiss for Charity, by Sherry Ewing

Young widow Grace, Lady de Courtenay, has no idea how a close encounter with a rake at a masquerade ball would make her yearn for love again. Can she learn to forgive Lord Nicholas Lacey and set aside their differences to let love into her heart?

Artemis, by Jessica Cale

Actress Charlotte Halfpenny is in trouble. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, and out of a job, Charlotte faces eviction two weeks before Christmas. When the reclusive Earl of Somerton makes her an outrageous offer, she has no choice but to accept. Could he be the man of her dreams, or is the nightmare just beginning?

The Bluestocking and the Barbarian, by Jude Knight

James must marry to please his grandfather, the duke, and to win social acceptance for himself and his father’s other foreign-born children. But only Lady Sophia Belvoir makes his heart sing, and to win her he must invite himself to spend Christmas at the home of his father’s greatest enemy.

Christmas Kisses, by Nicole Zoltack

Louisa Wycliff, Dowager Countess of Exeter wants only for her darling daughter, Anna, to find a man she can love and marry. Appallingly, Anna has her sights on a scoundrel of a duke who chases after every skirt he sees. Anna truly thinks the dashing duke cares for her, but her mother has her doubts.

An Open Heart, by Caroline Warfield

Esther Baumann longs for a loving husband who will help her create a home where they will teach their children to value the traditions of their people, but she wants a man who is also open to new ideas and happy to make friends outside their narrow circle. Is it so unreasonable to ask for toe curling passion as well?

Dashing Through the Snow, by Amy Rose Bennett

Headstrong bluestocking, Miss Kate Woodville, never thought her Christmas would be spent racing across England with a viscount hell-bent on vengeance. She certainly never expected to find love…

 

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Confused in London

Ask Aunt Augusta

Dear Aunt Augusta,

I am attracted to my mentor’s daughter. Worse than that, I can’t stop thinking of her. As a devout Jew, however, I need a woman who will keep a traditional home. Esther’s parents sent her to a secular girls’ school. She socializes with daughters of very high ranking men, and her father encourages it. I’m afraid she will never want to settle into the quiet home life I envision for our children. My sons will study with a rabbi, but my wife will have the teaching of our daughters. Still I can’t stop thinking about Esther Baumann. What am I to do?

Signed,

Confused in London

Adam Halevy, the hero in An Open Heart in Holly and Hopeful Hearts by Caroline Warfield

Dearest Confused in London,

My dear Confused in London, I am not the least bit sorry to say that your Esther sounds like a bluestocking. A woman like that is quite unlike any other! A woman with brains is nothing to be feared. Quite the contrary–she will push you to be a better man and a better father.

It seems to me that you know or at the very least suspect this already, which is why you have penned me your letter. If you care for this Esther and wish for her to be your wife and the mother of your children, should you not want her to be happy? If you love her, and I believe you do, then it is because you appreciate her despite her differences from what you think you ought to want. Should you not wish for your daughters to be similar to the woman you love? Should you not want them to be learned? A quiet home life is well and good, but one full of love is best of all.

Fear not. Love is always worth believing in, and hope should never die. Give of yourself, free yourself, and you will be much the happier for it, I truly believe so.

I wish you the very best,

Aunt Augusta

An Open Heart in Holly and Hopeful Hearts by Caroline Warfield

Adam has been sent on a dangerous mission for his cousin. When he returns when hopes to find a suitable wife, someone who understands a woman’s role, and will make a traditional home. Why is Baumann’s outspoken, independent daughter the one woman who haunts his nights?

http://www.carolinewarfield.com

~~~

Dear authors, if ever you should find that one of your characters has found him or herself in a rather trying position, whether in matters of the heart or matters of fashion or any matter at all, do be a kind soul and write to me. I will endeavor to answer your questions, if you but pen them for me.

Men Are So Blind

This heavily perfumed missive from Miss Mary Carlton to Lady Elsbeth Willknott has gone astray and finds itself in the Tattler

gerard_ter_borch_d-_j-_001Cambridgeshire, 1826

My dear Elsbeth,

How I wish you were here for a heart to heart talk. Who else can I confide in? Do tell me you will return soon. Mother refuses to see what is beneath her nose, and father—well, he’s as blind as the rest of the men.

Why are gentlemen unable to see what is obvious to the supposed weaker half of the population? Well, we know why. Where Certain Women are concerned, they do not always make use of their minds.  A woman may make herself look delicate and helpless, bat her eyes, and lean on a man’s arm, and men assume she is what she wishes to appear. They do not see the artifice, catch the avid gleam in the eye, or hear the nasty undertone when she speaks with those of her own sex.

emma_hart_later_lady_hamilton_george_romney_rothschild_collection_mfa_bostonYou and I both know Miss Julia Barrett, the squire’s daughter, for the harpy she is, while the men see only her delicate figure, blond hair, and adoring blue eyes.  They do not hear how she mocks them to other women. They do not see her forward behavior. I believe, dear one, that she is no better than she should be.

Julia fluttered, blushed, and swooned into the arms of Mr. Rand Wheatly, oozing sweetness, until that poor lovesick gentleman lost all reason. He has hung on her lisping speech and adoring gaze for weeks, solicitous to each spoken or unspoken need. He praises her as a delicate flower of English womanhood. Behind his back she laughs at his goodness.

The poor fool made the mistake of introducing her to his cousin. True to her nature, she turned her attention to Charles Wheatly who, after all, is a duke, while Rand Wheatly is simply mister. I have watched her keep both on the end of her silken tether, flirting shamelessly with whichever one is in front of her behind the back of whichever is absent.

Today I happened upon Mr. Rand Wheatly in front of the millinery shop. He looked so rapt in thought that I followed his eyes to see what had his attention. Less than a block away Julia Barrett clung to His Grace’s arm, leaning her bosoms against it in a most shocking manner while staring into his eyes. Mr. Rand Wheatly looked as if he had been slapped. Mark my words. She will bring the duke up to scratch and soon.

Neither Mr. Wheatly nor his ducal cousin seems aware of her shamelessly forward behavior when men from the King’s regiment garrisoned nearby attend assemblies. I know for fact she has evaded all chaperonage for assignations with more than one of them. My brother mentioned seeing her near their quarters. Did Ralph express disapproval of that? No! He said he envied the officers.

I long, dear Elsbeth, for tea and a cozy talk. Do come home soon.

Your friend,
Mary

PS
A horrid thought wormed its way into my brain. Isn’t Rand Wheatly’s brother an officer garrisoned nearby? What if Julia has thrown herself at all three of them? She’ll make trouble in that family. Mark my words.


CRITICALTheRenegadeWifeJulia does indeed make trouble for the cousins.

The Renegade Wife
Betrayed by his cousin and the woman he loved, reclusive Rand Wheatly flees England, his dreams of a loving family shattered. He clings to his solitude in an isolated cabin in Upper Canada. Returning from a business trip to find a widow and two children squatting in his house, he flies into a rage. He wants her gone, but her children are sick and injured, and his heart is not as hard as he likes to pretend.

Meggy Blair harbors a secret, and she’ll do whatever it takes to keep her children safe. She’d hopes to hide with her Ojibwa grandmother, if she can find the woman and her people. She doesn’t expect to find shelter with a quiet, solitary man, a man who lowers his defensive walls enough to let Meggy and her children in.

Their idyllic interlude is shattered when Meggy’s brutal husband appears to claim his children. She isn’t a widow, but a wife, a woman who betrayed the man she was supposed to love, just as Rand’s sweetheart betrayed him. He soon discovers why Meggy is on the run, but time is running out. To save them all, Rand must return and face his demons.

Available on Amazon

Caroline Warfield is a Bluestocking Belle. You can learn more about her here or visit her website.

A Wary Widow Seeks Advice

Ask Aunt Augusta

Dear Aunt Augusta,

I am alone in a foreign country where I speak not a word of the language. I recently hired an Englishman fluent in Italian to interpret for me. He claims to be a military man but I see no evidence of it. He wears a shabby coat, is in want of a hair cut, and, I am embarrassed to say, smells of drink. He does his job, but frequently oversteps and appears to think he is my bodyguard. I fear I like him too much. Can he be trusted?

Signed,

A wary widow, the heroine of DANGEROUS SECRETS by Caroline Warfield

Dearest Wary Widow,

I commend you for being alone in a foreign country and endeavoring your best to not only survive there but to thrive. Hiring an Englishman to interpret for you is smart, and it is smart, too, I feel, for you to be wary. If a man claims to be military but you see no evidence of it, that does raise suspicions.

Then again, you mention that he appears to think he is your bodyguard. He obviously cares about you, and your safety, as do I, and I am grateful that he is there for you. It cannot be easy to be alone in a foreign country and you a widow!

You fear you like him too much. I always advise to follow one’s heart, and if you feel safe with him, your interpreter and bodyguard, maybe you can trust him.

I would suggest that you talk to him. Ask him for more details. And maybe, just maybe, you can interpret each other’s hearts.

 

I wish you the very best,

Aunt Augusta

DANGEROUS SECRETS by Caroline Warfield

Will love—and the truth—bind them both together?

http://www.carolinewarfield.com

~~~

Dear authors, if ever you should find that one of your characters has found him or herself in a rather trying position, whether in matters of the heart or matters of fashion or any matter at all, do be a kind soul and write to me. I will endeavor to answer your questions, if you but pen them for me.

Only Foolish Servants Gossip

HonoredReaders,

Mrs. Mulligan of Pudding Lane came to our offices this very morning with a most intriguing document. Knowing our readers’ avid interest in the activities of the Grenford family, we agreed to her rather ambitious price to obtain the missive. We hereby print the document in its entirety (with some discrete corrections to spelling and grammar, which were greatly needed) and sincerely hope Miss Maud Mulligan, upstairs maid for the Duchess of Haverford at Hollystone Hall, doesn’t find her career as a servant cut short by her willingness to report on the doings her betters, at least until another such missive may come into our possession.

S. Clemens

Maud Mulligan

Maud Mulligan

Dearest Mother,
You said as how you wanted to know how I got on in this big house and what the toffs and their ladies get up to for three weeks running. It would take more time than that the Stanley woman might give me and more paper than I can afford to tell you all I’ve seen and heard. Most of my stories will have to wait until I see you, if I’m ever free to visit.

Right off I was assigned as maid to Miss Dinah Baumann, a spinster lady of some years. I worried, me not knowing anything about hair and clothes and such, but turns out the lady mostly kept to her bed and had me fetching and carrying for her and the little grey kitten that wiggled its way into her bed one afternoon.

Besides getting up early, starting the fire, fetching the lady’s chocolate, and general cleaning, I go up and down the servants’ stairs once or twice an hour, between Miss Baumann’s demands, the cat making disagreeable messes, and Mrs. Stanley sending me off on one errand and another every time she claps eyes on me, there being so many guests and so few maids. The house fairly buzzes with stories, I can tell you.

Esther Baumann

Esther Baumann

Miss Baumann—Miss Esther, the young one, not the old lady—is ever so kind. She brought her own maid and told Reba—that’s the maid—to look after me a bit so I don’t get behind. I wouldn’t say an unkind word about the Misses Baumann for all some in this house, ignorant all, think a Jewish Banker’s daughter ought not to be here. A perfect lady is Miss Esther Baumann, dressed as smart as they come and refined as need be. I won’t hear a word against her and so I said over servants’ tea to the ruffian who tends the spit. Young is no excuse for stupid. That’s what Mr. Fournier, (he be the French cook) said. No excuse for stupid. I know better. Remember Mr. Cohn the baker? Most honest baker in the city and his cakes are heavenly.

I was ever so surprised though when that gentleman of Miss Esther arrived with no invitation and still dirty from the road on Christmas morning. Some said as how it showed disrespect, but the duchess didn’t mind. I heard she welcomed him like a long lost friend. When I helped fetch hot water up to the room he shared with Lord Elfingham—beggars not being choosers—he seemed gentleman enough to me. He put me in mind of Mr. Cohn’s son Havel.

Adam Halevy

Adam Halevy

I should say I believe Mr. Halevy is Miss Esther’s gentlemen, but I’m not sure. She certainly follows him with her eyes when he’s around, or, so a footman told me, but she told her aunt that she never wanted to talk to him. Ever.

But that isn’t the end of it. This is why I took pen to paper tonight. The servant’s hall went all abuzz when the duchess asked Miss Esther and Mr. Halevy to say their Sabbath blessings with the company. I know I shouldn’t have, but I slipped upstairs and into the room where they had set up the table. No one saw me back by the draperies, but I watched it all. I heard that crab, Lady Stanton whisper some horrid things, but most of them looked so interested I think they prayed along. The look on Mr. Halevy’s face when he said the last blessing and she said “Amen,” would have melted any woman’s heart. Maybe the rumor I heard later about Miss Esther going out to the barn with Lord Jonathon Grenford wasn’t true.

Oh my! I’ve gone on too long. The house is in an uproar about the costume ball, and I should be working. Maybe costumes and candlelight and such will make magic for Miss Esther and her gent. I hope so.

Your daughter,
Maud

PS When you go for bread, tell Havel Cohn I asked after him.

__________________________________________________

An Open Heart, by Caroline Warfield

Esther Baumann longs for a loving husband who will help her create a home where they will teach their children to value the traditions of their people, but she wants a man who is also open to new ideas and happy to make friends outside their narrow circle. Is it so unreasonable to ask for toe curling passion as well?

Adam Halevy prospered under the tutelage of his distant cousin, powerful banker Nathaniel Baumann. He’s ready to find a suitable wife, someone who understands a woman’s role, and will make a traditional home. Why is Baumann’s outspoken, independent daughter the one woman who haunts his nights?

You’ll find it in Holly and Hopeful Hearts, the 2106 Bluestocking Belles’ holiday anthology, available now for pre-order. 25% of all proceeds will go to the Malala Fund. The education of women and girls is the favorite charity of the Duchess of Haverford and the Bluestocking Belles. Scroll to the bottom for links.

An excerpt:

Her restless gaze found Adam standing with the Belvoir ladies and their brother. He smiled down at Felicity Belvoir, who looked utterly rapt.

Esther knew she should move. All afternoon she had avoided him, but at that moment, she could not make her feet move. What has Felicity so fascinated? Is he telling her about Spain? Did he actually meet Wellington? What of his perilous journey? Longing to know kept her fixed in place even as her stubbornness urged her to move away before someone noticed she stared. Too late! Hythe glanced up, saw her, and smiled.

Hythe bowed over her hand and said, “Your friend has had quite an epic adventure.”

“Is that what he’s telling Felicity?” she asked with a haughty shake of her head.

Hythe’s lips twitched, and she felt her cheeks heat. When he offered his arm, panic set in. Does he mean to walk me back to his sisters? Adam is there, the wretch!

Hythe followed the direction of her eyes. “Shall we take a turn about the room, Miss Baumann?” he asked. When she laid a shaking hand on his and nodded, he patted her it with his gloved one, changed the topic of conversation to riding mishaps at the hunt, and soon had her laughing.

An hour later, Esther, relieved to have passed the afternoon without being cornered, she felt composed and less shaken. If Mr. Halevy wishes to speak with me, I’ll permit it. It is foolish to allow him to discomfort me. I’ll be all that is cool and in control.

When she spied him across the room speaking with one of the Duke of Ashbury’s daughters, he looked at her across the expanse of room and smiled with such sweetness that her heart skipped two beats.

hhh-meme

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