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An Irish Wake

Peggy McDermott studied the tray of soda bread sandwiches and tarts. “I’m hoping this is the last of them, Prudie. I didn’t expect to serve up so many.”

The kitchen maid wiped her sweaty face with a corner of her apron and grinned. “Who would expect it? An O’Brien wake at Meirliun turning the whole of County Clare into respectful mourners.”

Peggy snorted. “Respectful mourners hoping to get a taste of whiskey skin tea and a bite of lunch, maybe?”

“Well, it’s a grand salute to Mistress Margaret.” Quickly, Prudie crossed herself. “She looks like an angel, in that white shroud with her hands bound forever in prayer by her rosary, and the bell hooked over her thumbs.”

“You dressed her, then?”

“Aye, Sarah and I washed and dressed her before we laid her in the bier. Livy was useless, wailing in the arms of the master long after her mum passed.”

“Ah, the poor little thing. Her mum was taken too young for an heiress, and that one so near to coming out. Is she doing her duty upstairs?”

“Last tray I took up, she was sitting beside the coffin, looking like a caged raven in her chair—her ginger hair covered in black and pale as the corpse she was, taking condolences with grace and more gravity than even her da.”

“The master grieves in his own way, Pru. Clay pipes and tobacco are laid out in the library for the male tenants and staff. Angus is minding the liquor cabinet. Every puff and toast will protect the mistress’s soul in the hereafter, or so he says.”

“Did Sarah open the parlor window to allow her spirit to escape?”

“Aye, the housekeeper stopped the clocks, covered the mirrors and set the candles at the head and foot of the bier. Her Robbie and my Lewy are dressed as footmen, ushering guests, and standing watch at each end til burial on the morrow.”

Prudie sucked in her grin. The two gloved lads in green coats with white gloves? Both had unusual run of the manor for sons of servants, but the master always took a liking to them. Chinwag at Meirliun claimed he even charged them to look after Livy when she tagged after the boys when she was younger. The mistress was said to be mortified, knowing her little heiress was hanging with low boys. But Livy was willful and even sending her to a Dublin finishing school couldn’t smooth the wrinkles in the highborn lass.

Peggy smirked when she heard the clatter on the steps. “That’ll be me own dear footman. Lewy’s come for the tray.”

Tall and tanned, with his collar askew and no gloves, Lewy snatched one of the sandwiches and popped it into his mouth before his mother could slap his hand. When he kissed her after a swallowed gulp, she baffled the air with her hand. “Tell me you weren’t samplin’ the master’s jug, now.”

“Da gave me a go, Mum. Standing watch like a statue surrounded by death and roses works on the throat.”

“Is Robbie partaking as well?”

“Not with his mum supervising, but he looks like he needs a swill. He’s stunned as Livy watching the bell in her mother’s hands.”

“Tis an old custom, favoring hope of life by the sound of a ringing bell, but I think the mistress is gone for good.” Crossing herself, she wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. “Even St. Patrick himself could not heal the break in her heart.”

Lewy wondered if his mother knew—the common chinwag he had heard . . .about Robbie and Livy.

About the Book

He was lost in time…found by love.

Jessica Brewster is being watched…and things go missing from the remote Wyoming home she shares with her toddler. In a freak accident, she shoots the grizzled thief stalking her before she recognizes the mesmerizing green eyes that belong to the only man she ever loved.  Has Mitch bridged time to find her? In a race to save his life and change hers forever, she takes him into her home and heart. But his memory loss and puzzling clues curry doubt and danger.

Is he truly her son’s father or an irresistible stranger in her arms?’

~Excerpt~

I screamed as the gun exploded in my hand and fell to the ground. The bear moving toward Scout dropped, and I raced to scoop up my son before he toppled into the icy stream. Cradling my whimpering child, I ventured closer and could see at once that it was no bear I shot. A man in a bearskin poncho lay on his side. A mass of dark matted hair covered the side of his face that wasn’t blooming with blood,
running down his cheek, pooling in his ear and staining his thick beard.

 “Is he, is he dead?” I whispered.

 Chuck fumbled for a pulse and we all started when the man groaned and his eyes fluttered open.

Green! His eyes were green. The fear in them registered with me as he searched our faces. When his eyes met mine, his jaw twitched. A flash of memories washed over me and my heart began to thump wildly. I set Scout down when my knees began to buckle and I thought I was going to be sick as I reached out to staunch the blood.

So red against the white snow. His eyes, so…green. Every shade in a spectrum of emotion raced through me. I knew only one man who owned those eyes. Had he come back to me?

Did I shoot the only man I ever loved?

About the Author

Born and raised in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, CJ Fosdick has freelanced for over 30 years, writing stories and articles for local and national publications, including the Post Bulletin and Rochester Women. Stories are published in three anthologies, including Minnesota’s Blossoms & Blizzards and a Prentice-Hall H.S. Literature Textbook. Her novel series debuted in 2015 with The Accidental Wife, voted a Golden Quill finalist for Best First Novel and a top 10 finisher for Best Author and Best Romance in the 2015 Preditors & Editors Poll. She pursues her novel dreams on a wooded country hilltop in Rochester, MN, with husband, family, and a menagerie of well-fed wild and domestic animals.

Publisher Website: www.thewildrosepress.com
Author Website:
www.cjfosdick.com

Author Twitter: Falorac13
Author Facebook:
www.facebook.com/cjfosdick
Author email: Falorac@gmail.com

 

Which Surpasses All: Friends, Love, or Time?

Vanessa entered the bookshop with her head down. Lately, it seemed as if her life was more like that of a story, and she longed to find refuge in one of the books here, so that she might forget her troubles… such as the strange man who she was beginning to think might possibly be from another time and the horrid man her parents wished her to wed, considering her options were so few.

She bumped into a lady. “Oh, I am quite sorry!”

The lady, one Vanessa had never seen before, granted her an easy albeit preoccupied smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

The lady walked away, but Vanessa found herself watching her. There was something about the way the woman held herself, carried herself, the way her clothes fit, that suggested something was… off, for lack of a better word.

No matter. Vanessa found herself a book, purchased it, and settled into a chair to read. She had only turned the first page when someone sat in a nearby chair. Vanessa paid the newcomer no mind until she heard enough sniffs that the person was either very ill or on the brink of tears.

She closed her book and glanced over to see the lady she had bumped into earlier. A book lay open in the lady’s lap, her head hang low, but her eyes were closed as a single tear ran down her cheek.

Vanessa did not wish to intrude, but the lady seemed so lonely and sad, that she stirred herself to speak. “Is there something I can help you with?” she asked.

The lady jerked back, stiffened, and wiped the tear away. “I’m fine. I’m good. No worries.”

No worries? What an odd thing to say!

The lady grimaced. “Do not worry,” she added.

Vanessa closed her book. “I am worrying, though. You are upset. I know we aren’t aquaintances—I don’t even know your name—”

“Katia,” the lady supplied.

“I’m Vanessa.”

They shared small smiles.

After a moment, Katia sighed, her brief happiness disappearing. “I don’t… I don’t suppose it would hurt to talk to someone.”

Vanessa leaned forward. Katia had lowered her voice so much that she could hardly be heard.

“I… I miss my friends,” she blurted, as if this was a terrible secret.

“Do they live far away?” Vanessa asked.

“You could say that,” Katia mumbled. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again.”

“Oh, no!”

Katia nodded emphatically. “I want to see them again, but…” She sighed. Wistfully? Dreamily? Vanessa was not certain.

A crowd entered the bookstore, their chatter and laughter making a private conversation impossible, so they waited until the crowd thinned before speaking further.

“What is holding you back?” Vanessa asked. “From visiting your friends?”

“Time,” she muttered the word as if it were a curse.

Vanessa furrowed her brow. She did not understand. All in all, this Katia seemed like a peculiar lady, but even so, Vanessa found herself wishing to befriend her.

“And then there is Lord Landon…” Katia added, her cheeks staining pink.

“Ah. So time and love are holding you here?”

Katia’s cheeks now burned with seemingly hot red. “O-Of course not love! That’s… Do you think you could love someone who is so different from you?”

Idly, Vanessa found herself thinking of Gerald, the strange man who fancied himself a medieval knight. Despite his oddities—much like Katia—something drew Vanessa to him, something she could not explain.

“I think love is complicated,” Vanessa said after a moment.

“Yes,” Katia murmured. “Complicated. As complicated as…” The last was mumbled, but Vanessa would have been hard pressed to say that she finished with, “time travel.”

Was traveling through time possible after all? Was Gerald not crazy? Could a medieval knight find happiness… and maybe love… today, in the 1800s?

As for Katia, when did she come from? Being from another time would explain her strange mannerisms, the fitting of her clothes, and her odd speech.

Then again, could she truly accepted this notion?

“Who complicates love for you?” Katia asked.

Vanessa laid her book on the table between them. Where to start?

“It all began when I was hungry for a treat from the kitchen…”
Vanessa is the heroine in Love Before Honor, whereas Katia is the heroine in The Test of Time.

LoveBeforeHonor1400x2100To avenge his love’s death, Sir Gerald challenges her murderer to a duel. Her twin, however, feels that Alice never loved the knight and gives him a tea that sends him to into the future, to the Regency era.

Lady Vanessa seeks a Christmas treat when she hears something outside the manor. Upon investigation, she sees a man dressed in armor. Unwilling to turn away a confused man with the approaching holiday, she convinces her parents to house Gerald until the new year.

Scandal has forced her parents to accept William as their daughter’s best chance at marriage. Although rich, he does not understand her or her love of books, whereas Gerald listens to her, confides in her and she him. With the approaching holiday, nothing is certain – not whether Gerald can discover a way back to his duel, whether he can move on from Alice, and not whether this Christmas will be a happy one for either Gerald or Vanessa.

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Nicole is one of the Belles. You can learn more about her here.

Can Love Cross the Boundary of Time?

Landon entered White’s and asked for a drink. His dreams had been trying as of late, the mysterious lady who haunted his nights visiting him often and was beginning to invade his every thought. If he could only drink away her beauty, forget about it, make on with his life as if she did not exist…

With a start, he realized a man had sat beside him, his shoulders hunched, his face closed.

For whatever reason, perhaps because he felt a sudden kinship with the man whose eyes seemed to mirror the growing swell of emotions Landon himself felt, he cleared his throat. “Would you like a drink?” he asked.

“Ale,” the man said after a moment. “The stronger the better.”

Landon ordered one, and it wasn’t until they had shared several rounds without a word that the man felt moved to speak further.

“This be a strange place,” he remarked, glancing around.

Landon frowned. “Have you never been before?” White’s was a staple, where a man could enjoy drink and dice and cards and more.

“Never been to anywhere here,” the man muttered. He glanced around some more and then leaned in close. “Can you be… Who are you?”

“Landon Philamore.”

“A lord, I take it.”

Landon nodded. “And yourself?”

“Sir Gerald of Hanover.”

The man seemed to want to say more, and Landon waited, giving the man time to reason through his thoughts.

“Do you think,” Gerald said slowly, but then he halted.

“I think I great many things.” Landon would have smiled, but the man’s countenance bore too heavy a burden. “Tell me what ails you.”

“I do not think…” Gerald took a deep breath and then said in a rush, “I am not from this time.”

At once, Landon’s heart began to race. The lady from his dreams, the things she sometimes said, her mannerisms, her jokes… On more than one occasion, he suspected the same thing of her.

“I know I must sound daft,” Gerald continued.

“I think you need another drink,” Landon said.

At Gerald’s nod, Landon motioned for two more drinks.

“What is it that you miss most from your time?” Landon asked.

“You believe me?”

He shrugged. “It matters not what I believe. Your beliefs take priority.”

“I do not know what I belief, what I think, who I love.” Gerald stared glumly at his mug.

“Well, I believe that love can transcend anything. Even those from other lands… or other times.”

“Do you?” Gerald asked, the light of hope shining in his eyes for the first time since they began their conversation.

“Yes,” Landon said firmly, but whether he said it for Gerald’s sake or his own, he could not be certain…

Landon is the hero in The Test of Time, whereas Gerald is the hero in Love Before Honor.

ThetestoftimesmallKatia jumps at the chance to go to England with her best friend after Rose ditches her deadbeat boyfriend. While walking through the market, she spies a large mansion and recognizes the guy out front as her high school friend Tony. Just as they start to reconnect, Katia passes through times and lands in the arms of Lord Landon, who looks like Tony but certainly doesn’t act like him.

Soon, Katia learns that this 1815 is different from the one in history books. Trapped in a parallel world, Katia struggles to not fall for Landon but his charm proves too much for her. Just when she is about to confess her love for him, Katia travels through time yet again.

The course of love never did run smooth and if Katia can’t figure out and master the test of time, she’ll never see her friends again, or worse, never be reunited with Landon.

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Nicole is one of the Belles. You can learn more about her here.

Biscuits and Tea with a Side of Questions

 

b5d29f087f038a11e7949613308a1f1aSage gathered some biscuit and tea for the guests. Using her shoulder, she nudged the door open. She smiled at her lady, the strange but kind Katia who did not seem to quite belong to this day and time.

Trying not to be overly intrusive, she couldn’t help but listen to the conversation her lady and her friends were having.

Lady Theodosia pointed to the page. “As always, Aunt Augusta has wonderful advice. Love can be hard sometimes, but if it is meant to be, it will find a way.”

Lady Anna smiled. “And have you found love?”

Lady Theodosia brought her cup to her mouth, but Sage spied her now-pink cheeks.

“Does anyone have a guess as to who Aunt Augusta is?” Katia asked. She murmured her appreciation to Sage for the tea.

Sage was curious herself. Katia had been teaching her how to read, and Sage enjoyed reading the column herself. As to who was the one dispensing the advice, Sage had no idea.

Neither, as it turned out, did any of the ladies gathered.

“She has to be old,” Miss Eliza put forth. “She seems rather knowledge.”

“Yes. And someone who must have experienced a great love,” Lady Vanessa said with a faraway look in her eyes.

“Why else would she be such a proponent for love? I do agree.” Lady Theodosia nodded and helped herself to a biscuit.

“Married then,” Katia said.

“Or else a widow,” Sage commented without thinking.

“True,” Katia mused, as always seemingly unmindful of today’s customs. Sage knew she shouldn’t have spoken; Katia never cared. “Although that is a tragic thought, so hopefully she is still with her love.”

For a time, the ladies conversed and even ventured names, but not one of them could figure out the mystery. Perhaps one day it would be resolved, but until then…

Sage brought forth some parchment and quills and had to smile when she saw each lady surreptitiously fetch one. I wager that Aunt Augusta will be getting a letter from each soon enough.

Will I ever have cause to send one myself?

~~~ 

Sage and Katia are from The Test of Time, Lady Theodosia from Masked Love, Lady Vanessa from Love Before Honor, and Miss Eliza from Joy to the World. Lady Anna will have her story told in Christmas Kisses, which will be included in this year’s Bluestocking Belles’ boxed set.

ThetestoftimesmallKatia jumps at the chance to go to England with her best friend after Rose ditches her deadbeat boyfriend. While walking through the market, she spies a large mansion and recognizes the guy out front as her high school friend Tony. Just as they start to reconnect, Katia passes through times and lands in the arms of Lord Landon, who looks like Tony but certainly doesn’t act like him.

Soon, Katia learns that this 1815 is different from the one in history books. Trapped in a parallel world, Katia struggles to not fall for Landon but his charm proves too much for her. Just when she is about to confess her love for him, Katia travels through time yet again.

The course of love never did run smooth and if Katia can’t figure out and master the test of time, she’ll never see her friends again, or worse, never be reunited with Landon.

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Nicole is one of the Belles. You can learn more about her here.

Marnie Gets Her Revenge

11 June 1790, Gracechurch Street, London

It was late when I reached London and the temporary haven of my foster mum’s home. I hadn’t slept in days, partly out of fear of discovery by his lordship’s men and partly because the babe fussed so much. The brat was always hungry and I had no idea how to feed her. I was tempted to leave her with the family who took us in the first night—the farmer’s wife who found a way to feed her cow’s milk seemed that taken with her—but then his lordship would get her back and how would that serve my purpose? But oh, if I had known how much trouble it would be to sneak off with a puling infant while trying to keep out of the way of a powerful earl, I might have considered some other form of revenge.

Gypsy girl“Open up, mum, it’s me, Marnie!”

Finally, the door opened enough for Mum Herne to peer at me in the darkness.

“Marnie? It is you! For goodness sake, I thought you were in Derbyshire… Come in, I’m so glad to see you… it’s been ages since you took that position with the Cranbournes. Oh!”

She had just shut the door behind us when she saw the babe in my arms. “You have… a child?”

I held the babe out to her, pleased for the respite. I never realized how much it could hurt to hold a babe—even a tiny one—for hours at a time. “A girl child.”

Mum Herne cuddled her in her arms. “Such pretty blue eyes. A blonde,” she commented as she looked over my dark gypsy coloring with questioning eyes. “Must look like her father?”

“The spittin’ image,” I assured her. “The earl was a towhead when he was a babe, although his hair has darkened a bit since then.”

Mum’s head jerked back. “The earl is her father? The Earl of Cranbourne?”

I nodded as I looked hopefully in the direction of the kitchen. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a bite of bread and cheese? I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning.” When I’d managed to lift a meat pie off a pie maker’s cart without him noticing. But she didn’t need to know that. The mention of food had the intended effect of distracting her—at least temporarily—from the lecture about my morals I knew would be coming.

“Yes, of course. In the larder.” She looked down at the babe in her arms. “And the child? When did you feed her last? Looks downright poorly, she does.”

I shook my head and collapsed into the nearest chair. “So sorry, mum. It’s just that—I’m famished. We’ve been one step ahead of his lordship all the way, and the worry of it all just took my milk away. I was hoping you might have some cow’s milk for the poor mite… it’s only by the grace of God that I’ve found a few kindly folk along the way to keep her from starving.”

Mum’s eyes widened. “You’re running away from… the earl? Why on earth…? Never mind, you can tell me the whole later. Right now this child needs tending.”

An hour later, the babe asleep in a makeshift bed in mum’s bedchamber, she and I sat at the kitchen table and I told her my story. She already knew I’d been a maid in the household of the Cranbournes and that I’d agreed to travel all the way to Derbyshire because I’d hoped to catch the eye of the comely earl. She’d warned me against it, telling me it was foolish to set my cap at such a high falultin’ gent and that it would all come to no good—and while I hated having to admit she was right—she seemed to accept my story at face value. Some of it was even true. Maybe.

The story I told her was that the earl seduced me without any intention of marriage, all the while he was courting another woman. The affair continued after his marriage, and when I found myself with child, I was turned out without a character by her ladyship. I had no place else to go but the workhouse, but when the babe was born so pretty and so much like her father, I thought he might be willing to part with a few quid a month for food and lodgings. Little did I know that he would be so desperate to keep the babe’s existence from his wife that he would threaten to take her away from me and kill her! Which is what sent me flying from Derbyshire.

I’ve always been good at acting—my birth mother always said I should tread the boards at Covent Garden—and Mum Herne knew this, but I think the presence of the poor babe set off her maternal instincts and all she could think of was how to protect poor little Annie from the evil earl who threatened her life.

That was when we heard the sound of horses charging down the street.

“It’s his lordship!” I cried. “He’s found us! Quick, find us a place to hide!”

I ran to the bedchamber to pick up Annie.

“The earl?” But how…?”

I reminded her of the reference she had sent with me when I applied for the position. No doubt they would have gone back to ascertain the direction. She bit her lip and then shook her head.

“There’s no place here he won’t find you. A rich and powerful earl? I can’t imagine how you managed to get so far!”

Then a strange look came over face. “Although perhaps there is a way. We’ll have to bind the babe securely, though…”

By the time the loud banging at the door began, she had already bound the babe tightly around me with a red wool scarf and pressed a small black stone into my hand.

“I’m sending you into the future,” she whispered, urging me toward the back of the house. “Only for a short time. I’ll send you a signal when the coast is clear. But you mustn’t lose this stone.”

“The future?” I knew mum had a gift—’the sight’—which quite a few of our clan claimed to have—but traveling through time? I’d never heard of anyone who could do this, and I wasn’t sure I believed she could either.

That was when we heard the door give way and the sound of loud voices and footsteps.

Mum gave me a push and I felt myself floating through darkness before I felt myself collide with something big and heavy. My last thought before my soul abandoned my body was that at least I had my revenge. The Cranbournes would never find their baby now.

About A Home for Helena

A HOME FOR HELENA 150x220Believing that she has been misplaced in time, Helena Lloyd travels back two hundred years in an attempt to find out where she belongs.

Widowed father James Walker has no intention of remarrying until he makes the acquaintance of his daughter’s lovely new governess.

Lady Pendleton, a time-traveling Regency lady herself, suspects that these two belong together. First, however, she must help Helena discover her true origins—and hopefully, a home where she belongs.

A Home for Helena is Book 2 of The Lady P Chronicles.

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About the Author

P9 copySusana Ellis has always had stories in her head waiting to come out, especially when she learned to read and her imagination began to soar. A former teacher, Susana lives in Toledo, Ohio in the summer and Florida in the winter. She is a member of the Central Florida Romance Writers and the Beau Monde chapters of RWA and Maumee Valley Romance Inc.

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