All of London want to know more about the elusive Carlingford family. Wait no more. Our intrepid editor, Sam Clemens, is determined to uncover all the gossip for you, dear readers.
Carlingford Enterprises, the megalith manufacturing company, who dominates the burgeoning iron industry in England, making many of our famous steamer boats, as well as bridges, and other pieces of industrial equipment, is known to all. Many of our readers enjoy a drop from their famous brewery. Less well known is the family behind the company. That is, apart from the heir, Wilberforce Carlingford, who often frequents our ‘Street Philosopher’ section.
Your Teatime Tattler has been chasing an interview with young Miss Carlingford ever since she arrived back from her European tour. Readers, let me share the excitement with you. We have an exclusive interview with young Miss Carlingford’s footman.
“Higgins, Miss Carlingford must be one of the most sought after young ladies in Victorian London.”
“Doctor,” the footman replied succinctly. I pricked up my ears. In one word, the interest in this interview grew in epic proportions.
“A wealthy heiress, and a doctor? An unusual combination.”
“Dr Carlingford recently graduated from the Municipal University of Amsterdam and runs a medical charity in the slums of the East End. I accompany her for her safety.”
“Yes, well, we can’t have heiresses traipsing around the East End without protection. Do tell us just how large her dowry is.”
“I’m afraid that is confidential. However, anyone who wishes can apply to be seen at her medical practice on Harvey Street. Dr Carlingford specialises in the health of female patients and encourages all women of status to visit her at this clinic on Mondays and Tuesdays,” Higgins said.
“I’m sure that’s fabulous.” Clemens felt you, dear reader, did not require an advertisement from a footman with regards to young Miss Carlingford’s unusual medical practice. The idea that a woman could become qualified, in a foreign university, none-the-less, and declare herself fit to treat the lovely women of the upper classes was outside the scope of this publication, and of no interest to you, dear reader.
“Now tell us more about Mr Carlingford, the younger. It is said he is being groomed to take over from Mr Carlingford the elder and is in much need of a wife.”
“Mr Carlingford, junior, is in his mid-twenties. Too young to be contemplating a wife.”
“But if such a woman was interesting in helping him fall into the trap of matrimony, what preferences does he have?” Clements asked.
The footman, Higgins, clenched his jaw. “This interview is not about Mr Carlingford Junior. It is about the great leaps forward my mistress, Dr Carlingford, has made in the medical profession. Sir, it is 1888, beyond time we had female doctors to treat female patients.”
“My readers are not interested in such political statements. Is it true the Carlingford family came from the Americas?”
“I believe it is public knowledge that Mr Carlingford made his first fortune in oil but felt the steam-boat market was a better place to invest. He shifted the family to England, for the sake of his children’s education, and now you see the results. Carlingford Enterprises is one of England’s grandest businesses. My mistress, Dr Carlingford, represents the future of this nation.”
I closed the interview certain my readership would not be interested in the way the Carlingford’s loyal servant, Higgins, continued to advertise their businesses without gifting the readers any gossip of note.
When an uncommon lawyer meets an unusual doctor, their story must be extraordinary…
20 October 2018
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https://www.harpercollins.com.au/9781489264626/
http://books2read.com/u/3yD16v
http://www.reneedahlia.com/books/bluestockings/
Heart of a Bluestocking
September 1888: Dr Claire Carlingford owns the bluestocking label. Her tycoon father encouraged her to study, and with the support of her two best friends, she took it further than anyone could imagine, graduating as a doctor and running her own medical practice. But it’s not enough for her father. He wants her to take over the business, so he can retire. Then his sudden arrest throws the family into chaos and his business into peril.
Mr James Ravi Howick, second son of Lord Dalhinge, wants to use his position as a lawyer to improve conditions for his mother’s family in India. When an opportunity arises to work for Carlingford Enterprises, one of the richest companies in the world, Ravi leaps at the chance to open his own legal practice. But his employment becomes personal as he spends more time with Claire and she learns the secret that could destroy his family.
Both Ravi and Claire are used to being outsiders and alone. But as they work together to save their respective families from disaster, it becomes clear that these two misfits might just fit together perfectly.
Excerpt
‘Dr Carlingford,’ she said. She slid the book back on the shelf, concentrating on that task so she couldn’t see the clerk’s reaction. With a nod to Higgins to remain in the foyer, she followed the clerk, who led her through an oak door and along a corridor. With each step, she hoped that she was getting closer to the biggest office. Woodleyville certainly had the seniority to deal with her father’s problem. She grinned to herself. It wasn’t every day that a tycoon was arrested. Hopefully, she could present the case as a puzzle to appeal to the elderly lawyer, enough to overcome his snobbery. The clerk opened a door and gestured for her to enter. She nodded her thanks and walked inside.
Behind a large desk with neat piles of paperwork stood a tall man of Indian descent. His dark brown eyes were framed by thick-rimmed glasses. The summer sunshine streamed in a large window and bounced off the glass on his face. Claire blinked. The room smelled of furniture polish, with a heady hint of hops about to be harvested.
‘Welcome,’ he said. His voice rumbled through the space between them, sending a shock wave inside her. She swallowed.
‘I was expecting Woodleyville Senior,’ she said. This man had to be around her age, and wasn’t at all like the senior partner she had expected to see. A tiny flutter began in her stomach and she pressed her hands softly against it.
‘Perhaps you could outline the issue to me,’ he said, calmly.
There was such music in his voice, a masculine music causing the small flutter to grow. Josephine’s note crinkled in her palm as she clasped her hands together, dragging her attention back to her task.
‘And you are?’
Meet Renée Dahlia
Renée Dahlia is an unabashed romance reader who loves feisty women and strong, clever men. Her books reflect this, with a side-note of dark humour. Renée has a science degree in physics. When not distracted by the characters fighting for attention in her brain, she works in the horse racing industry doing data analysis. She writes for two racing publications, churning out feature articles, interviews and advertorials. When she isn’t reading or writing, Renée wrangles a husband, four children, and volunteers on the local cricket club committee.
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