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Tag: Regina Jeffers

Scandal Rocks Kent and the House of the de Bourghs

Hello, All. This is Romona Regency here with all the latest and greatest news from Kent. This bit of scandal comes to us from just outside of Rochester and Higham upon the estate of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the sister to the Earl of Matlock and widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh. It seems her ladyship is to be displaced and by none other than her “favorite” nephew, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the master of Pemberley, who by a twist of fate, or, rather, should we say, a twist of “marriage” is now the new master of Rosings Park, having inherited it from his late wife. The gentleman has provided his aunt her “marching orders.” It seems the grand dame must claim a new moniker: That of the Dowager Lady de Bourgh. Sources say even Lord Matlock has refused to assist her ladyship with her removal from the estate’s mansion to the dower house.

His lordship was heard to have said:

“Devilish rum business. But Darcy has his rights. You chose to force his hand, and, now, you must live with your manipulation. Our nephew married Anne, just as you insisted he do. It is not his fault your daughter died in a little over half a year of pronouncing her vows. Even though they held nothing more than familial affection for each other, who is to say they might have made the best of it for the remainder of their days—mayhap they would have had a half-dozen children. That might have satisfied you, to have grandchildren about you. Might have softened your nature. However, I do not think such a marriage would have made either Darcy or Anne happy. Like it or not, Catherine, they did not suit. Darcy adored his parents, and, whether you wish to recognize it or keep fooling yourself, George Darcy and our younger sister Anne were happy together. They loved each other deeply. Your belief that George Darcy should have chosen you instead of Anne—that you should have been mistress of such a breathtaking beautiful estate as Pemberley—is what drove you to force Darcy and your daughter together. You made your bed, now, you must lie in it.”

Rosings Park (Belton House/Public Domain)

My goodness! Is that not scandalous enough for you? Imagine one so regal—so full of her own consequence—being brought so low as to live on an allowance and to entertain in the estate’s dower house. I suppose those without connections would know satisfaction with such a house, but none of us here at The Tattler believe Lady Catherine will know ease.

Other sources have informed me that Mr. Darcy means to bring the estate back to his former grandeur, for such was his late wife’s dying wish. We can only hope Mr. Darcy performs with more expertise than did his aunt, who is said to have shamelessly neglected her obligations to her tenants.

As of this very morning, it is my understanding that Lady Catherine has taken to her bed, supposedly from a fall upon the main stairs of the manor house, but one can logically consider her ladyship’s “accident” simply a maneuver to keep Mr. Darcy at bay for as long as possible. Several servants attached to the manor house have confirmed that Lady Catherine has agreed to employ Miss Elizabeth Bennet to oversee the refurbishing of the dower house. Miss Bennet is said to be the cousin of Lady Catherine’s cleric, Mr. Collins, and she was visiting with the Collinses when the accident occurred. We here at The Tea Time Tattler wondered why Mrs. Collins did not take up the charge of assisting Lady Catherine, but several among those who are willing to speak of her ladyship’s woes have indicated Mrs. Collins has been ordered to bed by our own Doctor Wilson. All within Rosings Park assume Mrs. Collins is with child, but nothing has been confirmed; yet, such would explain much, as few know anything of Miss Bennet, who is said to be from Hertsfordshire. We shall keep both our eyes and our ears open and report back when we learn of Lady Catherine’s removal to her new home. Shan’t that be a sight for our sore eyes?

Side Note:

After this story was set for publication, we learned that Miss Bennet, at the insistence of Lady Catherine, has moved into Rosings Park itself, which means when Mr. Darcy arrives later in the week, he will be forced to stay either at the local inn or at the dower house being repaired for his aunt. Naturally, a gentleman cannot remain is the main house, even if he owns it, with an unmarried female and no chaperone. Now, that would be a scandal worth bringing out a special edition of lovely newsprint, would it not? If such occurs, you shall hear it here first.

About the Book

The Mistress of Rosings Park: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

Release date: January 8, 2021

I much prefer the sharp criticism of a single intelligent man to the thoughtless approval of the masses. – Johannes Kepler

When she arrives at Hunsford Cottage for a visit with her long-time friend Charlotte Collins, Elizabeth Bennet does not expect the melodrama awaiting her at Rosings Park.

Mrs. Anne Darcy, nee de Bourgh, has passed, and Rosings Park is, by law, the property of the woman’s husband, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy; yet, Lady Catherine de Bourgh is not ready to abandon the mansion over which she has served as mistress for thirty years. Elizabeth holds sympathy for her ladyship’s situation. After all, Elizabeth’s mother will eventually be banished from Longbourn when Mr. Bennet passes without male issue. She inherently understands Lady Catherine’s “hysterics,” while not necessarily condoning them, for her ladyship will have the luxury of the right to the estate’s dower house, and, moreover, it is obvious Rosings Park requires the hand of a more knowledgeable overseer. Therefore, Elizabeth takes on the task of easing Lady Catherine’s transition to dowager baronetess, but doing so places Elizabeth often in the company of the “odious” Mr. Darcy, a man Lady Catherine claims poisoned her daughter Anne in order to claim Rosings Park as his own.

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About the Author

Regina Jeffers, an award-winning author of historical cozy mysteries, Austenesque sequels and retellings, as well as Regency era romances, has worn many hats over her lifetime: daughter, student, military brat, wife, mother, grandmother, teacher, tax preparer, journalist, choreographer, Broadway dancer, theatre director, history buff, grant writer, media literacy consultant, and author. Living outside of Charlotte, NC, Jeffers writes novels that take the ordinary and adds a bit of mayhem, while mastering tension in her own life with a bit of gardening and the exuberance of her “grand joys.”

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The unwanted child

In a Teatime Tattler exclusive, our staff has learned of a most unusual tale. It seems, Levison Davids, the 17th Earl of Remmington, of Tegen Castle, Yorkshire, has been summoned home from his duties with the Home Office on the Continent to assume the guardianship of an Irish baron’s, one Lord Kavanagh’s, six-year-old daughter. Speculation has always surrounded the birth of the child, as Lord Kavanagh’s marriage to Miss Delia Phillips took place before anyone even knew they were courting. Moreover, our sources in Dublin say although the child was declared full term by the midwife, the baron and his baroness declared that Lady Kavanagh delivered the babe early.

“The child’s mother had the worst of the agreement between her and Lord Kavanagh,” a source close to the family, but who wishes to remain anonymous, shared. “The baron used his wife as a brood mare until a son and heir to the barony was safely delivered. The lady bore his lordship four children in a little over six years. Those within the baron’s household speak of how often he would beat his wife and call her vile name for her delivering only female children. We all grieved for the abuse Lady Kavanagh suffered, but legally there was little any of us could do, other than to issue a caution to his lordship. At length, the former Miss Phillips delivered forth a son. Only then did she know any surcease. But her gains were never celebrated, for unfortunately, the lady survived the last of her children’s births by only some three weeks.”

“Poor Miss Phillips,” the housekeeper at Phillips Hall lamented when we spoke to her last week. “Viscount Phillips’s daughter swore that the father of her first child was none other than her long-time beau, Mr. Levison Davids. The young miss and Mr. Davids held an understanding that he would marry her after his service with Wellington was complete. I don’t know how it come about that Miss Phillips and Mr. Davids knew…. I shan’t say the words. You know perfectly well what occurred without my explaining it. All I know is that the old earl, Lord Morland Davids, refused to believe that Miss Phillips carried his second son’s child, and so Viscount Phillips had no other choice but to arrange a marriage with Lord Kavanagh. Terrible situation, for Lord Kavanagh refused both Viscount and Viscountess Phillips contact with their only child and their grandchildren. His lordship sold Phillips Hall to some man none of us have ever seen, but Lord Phillips had no choice. He and the viscountess required the money from the sale of all their unentailed lands that were associated with his title to convince Lord Kavanagh to claim another man’s child as his own.”

One of Lord Remmington’s associates with the Home Office, Sir Alexander Chandler, one of the most powerful men in England, has declared, “I know Remmington’s character. He was more than a bit upset to learn that Miss Phillips had chosen to marry elsewhere. My younger brother sent me word of the arrangement when Remmington and I were serving upon the Spanish front with the English forces. It was I who delivered the news to his lordship. And as the earl and I were up to our waists with Froggies charging us left and right for months before Remmington learned of Miss Phillips’s defection, there was no means for him to be the child’s father.”

When cornered by one of our reporters, Lord Remmington said, “Despite the child and I having the same colored eyes, I am not Miss Deirdre’s father. Even so, unlike Lord Kavanagh, who labeled his firstborn with the most derogatory of terms possible, I will not abandon the child, who is not at fault in this matter. I can afford to assume the girl’s guardianship and to keep her off the parish roles. Miss Deirdre will have a home in Northumberland with my mother, the Countess of Remmington.”

So, we at Teatime Tattler wonder, if Lord Remmington and Sir Alexander are to be believed (and who would not believe two such illustrious gentlemen, certainly King George IV names them both as honorable), then who did sire the child? How did Miss Dierdre Kavanagh manage to possess the same silver-gray eyes (a most unusual shade, to be certain) as does Lord Remmington? Even his lordship would agree that he has the look of his maternal grandfather; therefore, neither Lord Remmington’s late brother nor his cousin and heir presumptive Lord Howard can be the child’s father.

As always, we at Teatime Tattler will stay on the trail and bring you more details as they come in.


The Earl Claims His Comfort

Introducing The Earl Claims His Comfort: Book 2 in the Twins’ Trilogy, releasing September 16, 2017, from Black Opal Books — a 2016 Hot Prospects finalist in Romantic Suspense

Hurrying home to Tegen Castle from the Continent to assume guardianship of a child not his, but one who holds his countenance, Levison Davids, Earl of Remmington, is shot and left to die upon the road leading to his manor house. The incident has Remmington chasing after a man who remains one step ahead and who claims a distinct similarity—a man who wishes to replace Remmington as the rightful earl. Rem must solve the mystery of how a stranger’s life parallels his, while protecting his title, the child, and the woman he loves.

Comfort Neville has escorted Deirdre Kavanaugh from Ireland to England, in hopes that the Earl of Remmington will prove a better guardian for the girl than did the child’s father. When she discovers the earl’s body upon a road backing the castle, it is she who nurses him to health. As the daughter of a minor son of an Irish baron, Comfort is impossibly removed from the earl’s sphere, but the man claims her affections. She will do anything for him, including confronting his enemies. When she is kidnapped as part of a plot for revenge against the earl, she must protect Rem’s life, while guarding her heart.

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Angel Comes to the Devil’s Keep: Book 1 of the Twins’ Trilogy

-a 2017 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense finalist

-a SOLA’s Eighth Annual Dixie Kane Memorial Award finalist for Historical Romance

Huntington McLaughlin, the Marquess of Malvern, wakes in a farmhouse, after a head injury, being tended by an ethereal “angel,” who claims to be his wife. However, reality is often deceptive, and Angelica Lovelace is far from innocent in Hunt’s difficulties. Yet, there is something about the woman that calls to him as no other ever has. When she attends his mother’s annual summer house party, their lives are intertwined in a series of mistaken identities, assaults, kidnappings, overlapping relations, and murders, which will either bring them together forever or tear them irretrievably apart. As Hunt attempts to right his world from problems caused by the head injury that has robbed him of parts of his memory, his best friend, the Earl of Remmington, makes it clear that he intends to claim Angelica as his wife. Hunt must decide whether to permit her to align herself with the earldom or claim the only woman who stirs his heart–and if he does the latter, can he still serve the dukedom with a hoydenish American heiress at his side?

The story is charming, with interesting and realistic characters, a complex plot with plenty of surprises, and a sweet romance woven through it all. The author has a good command of what it was like to be a woman in nineteenth-century England–almost as if she had been there. She really did her research for this one. ~ Suspended Reality Reviews

If you enjoy a romance with plenty of murder and mayhem and one with delightful characters and a villain that you will never guess, then you will love Angel Comes to Devil’s Keep.  ~ Vikki Vaught

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Mysterious accident robs duke’s heir of memory

LF533766_942long (1)The Teatime Tattler has learned of a report of a most grievous nature via The Warwickshire Warbler. It seems that Huntington McLaughlin, the Marquess of Malvern, went missing from his mother’s annual summer fête for more than a week, and no one knows what stratagems he practiced during his absence in order to prevent the duke from forcing a marriage upon the marquess. Other guests at the Duchess of Devilfoard’s entertainment speak of the oddity of the situation.

“It is well known that the duke means for his heir to marry the Earl of Sandahl’s daughter, Lady Mathild,” Lady Falonwick shared, “but Malvern foils his father upon each entreaty, even taking up with that lightskirt, Miss Alexandra Dandridge, rather than to marry and produce an heir for the dukedom. In my opinion, it is a shame that the young hold no knowledge of their obligations. One evening after his arrival, I spoke to Malvern of Lord Falonwick’s heir presumptive and it was as if Malvern knew not of whom I spoke. In my opinion, the marquess should be made to memorize Debrett’s. How will he oversee the dukedom upon Devilfoard’s demise if he knows nothing of the peerage?”

Lady Beatrice Cuthbert confirmed what Lady Falonwick purported. “Lord Malvern was more than a week tardy making an appearance at Her Grace’s table, and even then he remained from company, choosing instead to spend his time with his sister, the Viscountess Stoke. Something is definitely amiss. Only last year, Lord Malvern led the nature walk  and all that the adventure entailed for the young ladies and gentlemen of the duchess’s party, and this year he barely leaves one of the chairs meant for the elder attendees. The man is not yet thirty! And more circumspect is the way the marquess’s family treats him, as if there is more than a simple shoulder injury from his reported accident, the excuse given for his tardiness. I cannot decipher what the Duke and Duchess of Devilfoard hide from their guests, but there is a silent uproar brewing beneath the roof of the Devil’s Keep, and when it explodes it will shake the dukedom to his core.”

This reporter wonders if Lord Malvern has a malady not apparent to those who look upon his fine countenance and if Devilfoard conceals the truth of his son’s weak mind. Perhaps the marquess suffered more than initially reported when he was held prisoner upon the French border. Or mayhap it is Lady Mathild who drives him from his home. It is known that the Earl of Sandahl, his countess, and Lady Mathild departed Devil’s Keep the day following the marquess’s return. Surely Sandahl will not readily abandon his hopes of making Lady Mathild the future duchess. Those who know Sandahl recognize that nothing stands in the earl way once he has set his mind to the task.


Angel Comes to the Devil’s Keep

HUNTINGTON McLAUGHLIN, the Marquess of Malvern, wakes in a farmhouse, after a head injury, being tended by an ethereal “angel,” who claims to be his wife. However, reality is often deceptive, and ANGELICA LOVELACE is far from innocent in Hunt’s difficulties. Yet, there is something about the woman that calls to him as no other ever has. When she attends his mother’s annual summer house party, their lives are intertwined in a series of mistaken identities, assaults, kidnappings, overlapping relations, and murders, which will either bring them together forever or tear them irretrievably apart. As Hunt attempts to right his world from problems caused by the head injury that has robbed him of parts of his memory, his best friend, the Earl of Remmington, makes it clear that he intends to claim Angelica as his wife. Hunt must decide whether to permit her to align herself with the earldom or claim the only woman who stirs his heart–and if he does the latter, can he still serve the dukedom with a hoydenish American heiress at his side?

Excerpt Chapter 7

AnAngelComes_LargeDespite the impropriety of doing so, Hunt poured himself a shot of brandy from a decanter beside the duke’s—correction, beside his father’s—desk. He was not certain whether his doing so was customary or not, but he required liquid courage to face his future. However, before he finished the drink, he heard the quick steps of soft slippers upon the marbled floors he noted outside the room’s open door.

“Oh, Hunt!” the woman gasped as she rushed into his one-arm embrace, seeking his comfort. My mother, he thought. Yet, there was nothing familiar about her—not her appearance, nor her voice, nor even the cloying scent of roses she wore. Surely, such was his mother’s favorite fragrance. Devastation took hold of his heart when he realized if a bevy of other ladies of the same age and social class surrounded the woman in his embrace, Hunt could not chose her from the group. The thought had his heartbeat hitching faster.

“I have worried so,” she whispered as she caressed his cheek. “You are injured?” she said as she noted the crude sling.

“Alibi threw me during the storm,” he said simply, knowing he would be expected to repeat his tale several more times this evening. “Let us wait upon the others,” he said in kindness. “I am exhausted and would tell my tale but once.”

Tears misting her eyes, the duchess nodded. “While we wait, permit me to ask Mr. Strasser to send for Mr. Roddick.”

“If it eases your concerns,” he said with a squeeze of her hand. She rushed to the bell cord, and Hunt studied her. His mother was an exceedingly handsome woman, likely in her late forties. Slender. Taller than he expected, nearly reaching his shoulder. He thought Miss Lovelace would appear a petite touch of sunlight beside the magnificently coiffed duchess. The thought of Miss Lovelace brought a sad smile to his lips. He would never see her again.

Gold and a bit of silver feathered his mother’s warm brown hair. Brown eyes, the color of walnuts. He noted few of his own features in her countenance.

Louder footsteps announced his father’s approach. Instinctively, Hunt straightened his shoulders to meet the man he would one day replace.

“He is home, Hamilton, and safe,” his mother explained to the man who commanded the room with his presence.

“I can see that much for myself, Duchess,” the duke declared with what appeared to be pure relief crossing his countenance. “Harry says you suffered greatly.” Hamilton McLaughlin’s gaze skimmed Hunt’s stance, and Hunt fought the urge to squirm. He wondered how often his father summoned him to this very room. Had he been an exemplary son or a total rascal?

Hunt swallowed the rising consternation flooding his throat. “It was more difficult than I would like.”

The appearance of what had to be Henrietta upon Harrison’s arm brought Hunt further regret. His twin. The woman who entered the world only ten minutes before he. When Harrison told him of the family awaiting Hunt’s return, Hunt imagined if no one else, he would instantly recognize Henrietta. Did not twins possess a special bond?

His sister was beautiful. Yet, she favored their mother. Hunt found himself a bit disappointed not to feel anything exceptional for any of his dear family.

“Thank goodness,” Henrietta gasped as she took his free hand in her two. “Even when some considered the worst, I knew we had not lost you. My heart remained as one. I knew we would find you again. We are two, Huntington. You cannot leave me without my heart knowing.”

Hunt wished he could say the same, but his mental turmoil continued.

Harry cleared his throat. “Perhaps, we should all assume a seat. There is more to Huntington’s story than his obvious shoulder injury.” His brother assisted Etta to a nearby chair. Hunt watched her lower her girth into the cushions, and he wondered how often he assisted his twin in such situations.

“What else is there to know?” the duchess asked suspiciously. She reached for the duke’s hand in comfort.

Harry kept the floor, and Hunt held no objections. He possessed no desire to announce his lack of knowledge of these people, who obviously experienced real concern over his absence.

“Hunt suffered another injury beyond his displaced shoulder.”

The duke’s eyes scanned Hunt’s body again. “Such as?” His father stood imperiously behind his duchess, his hand resting nobly upon her shoulder. Hunt could easily recognize his own countenance in the man. Even a stranger’s assessment would proclaim Hunt his father’s son. He was his father come to life a second time, Etta, his mother, and Harry a combination of the two.

Hunt discovered his voice. “Despite appearing only in disarray, I endured a head injury, which robbed me of a portion of my memory.”

Henrietta’s features scrunched up in confusion. “What portion?”

Hunt’s gaze remained locked upon his father’s. He possessed no doubt of his mother’s and Etta’s sympathy, but the duke would hold other concerns, those directed to the responsibilities of the title. “I recall the names of writers and painters and musicians, as well as the details of historical accounts. I know my sums, my letters, and my gentlemanly manners. All my education as a duke’s son.” He paused to set his stance. “Yet, I hold no knowledge of the Devil’s Keep beyond what I learned of this room with my entrance a quarter hour past.” Hunt went very still. “Nor of its inhabitants.”

The duchess paled. “You mean the identity of my guests?” his mother asked through trembling lips. “Surely, you cannot mean to say…” Her voice trailed off.

In the distant depths of his mind, Hunt studied the terrible tableau before him. His father’s mouth was thin lipped, and his countenance stony, but he said, “You possess no memory of being Malvern?”

“No, sir.” Hunt sucked in a steadying breath. “I imagine I could muster an understanding of estate books and investments specific to the dukedom. I was not struck dumb nor am I without intelligence. I simply lost the names of those most dear to me.” He smiled wryly. “And other members of Society. I have no social history.”

His mother gasped and clutched at the duke’s hand. “How is that possible? Surely you know your own parents!”

“Until you walked into this room, Duchess, I could not conjure your image,” Hunt admitted. He wished to add the only image he owned was that of Miss Angelica Lovelace, but he could not share that particular fact with his family.

“Hamilton, do something!” his mother pleaded.

“What would you have me do, Alberta? Even as a duke, I cannot order the return of my heir’s memory.”

His father’s gaze did not falter. Hunt admired the duke’s control.

His mother was on her feet and pacing. “I want the most learned medical man in the kingdom summoned to Malvern’s side.”

The duke gathered his duchess into his arms. It was a telling moment. It spoke of the state of his parents’ marriage. “We will do all that is necessary, Duchess,” he assured her.

Harry rushed to Hunt’s aid. “Until that time I intend to remain at Hunt’s side so he can manage his social obligations.”

“I can send our guests away,” his mother offered. “Beg off with a family emergency.”

Hunt gestured in the negative. “For now, I would prefer you not bring more attention to my condition. It is my hope just being at the Keep will bring new life to my recollections. I will use my shoulder injury to withdraw when I am overwhelmed by so many new faces.”

“You can use my condition as an alternate excuse. You can be a doting twin brother in Lord Stoke’s absence,” Etta suggested.

A tremendous ache to know his twin again filled Hunt’s heart. “Harry tells me such actions would not be a divergence from character for us.”

A questioning restlessness crossed Henrietta’s countenance. “Soon your reminiscences will belong to you alone and not simply ones borrowed from Harry.”

“It is my dearest hope,” he confessed.

The duke set the duchess from him. “I am not one who acts upon hope. If Malvern is well enough, we should devise some sort of plan to keep this development from becoming common knowledge. There are those who would move against the dukedom if they think Malvern incapable of making fair judgments. Harry, who else knows of Malvern’s dilemma?”

Harry shot a quick glance at Hunt. “Only the Earl of Remmington. He and I traveled together in our search for Huntington.”

“Where is Remmington?” Etta asked. “Did he not return with you?”

“The earl’s horse took on a stone,” Hunt supplied. “His seeking a farrier brought us together, as I was seated on the back of a farm wagon at the time. We met in a small village. Remmington will return when the horse can carry him without pain.”

“Remmington and Hunt have held a close association since their university days. The earl will not jeopardize Hunt’s position in Society,” Harry confirmed. “Remmington understands the demands of a title.”

“Then let us be about discovering a means to protect Malvern from censure.”



The story is charming, with interesting and realistic characters, a complex plot with plenty of surprises, and a sweet romance woven through it all. The author has a good command of what it was like to be a woman in nineteenth-century England–almost as if she had been there. She really did her research for this one.


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