Welcome, friends! Today the ballroom is festooned in black and orange, decorated with paper cut-out bats and lanterns fashioned with alarming faces — horrifying eyes, protruding noses, ghastly grimaces — the flickering candlelight within casting spooky shadows on the walls and costumed revelers. It is Halloween, my favorite holiday as a child and—

Lady B: What in heaven’s name are you wearing, Miss Ashe? Is that fur? And a tail?

Oh, hello, my lady. Welcome to our masquerade ball! Tessa, Miranda, Sabrina, Sarah, Gaelen and I decorated the ballroom today to celebrate the holiday with our guests.

<squawk!> Shiver me timbers! <squawk!>

Hi, Albert. Fabulous eye patch and gold earring you have on. My favorite costume of all time, of course.

Lady B: Miss Ashe, given the opportunities a masquerade ball offers for scandalously anonymous dalliance, I haven’t any difficulty with you ladies throwing one today. But what, pray tell, is this Halloween of which you speak?

<squawk!> Ghosts and goblins! <squawk!> 

Halloween is a holiday Americans celebrate with gusto, Lady B. It’s connected with the Catholic Feast of All Saints on November 1, but scholars aren’t really sure how. Some say it began with the ringing of bells that augured in the feast day the evening before — thus All Hallows Eve — and that common folk believed those bells scared away evil spirits. Others say the holiday has something to do with the ancient Celtic celebration of Samhain that marked the onset of winter when Irish and Scots would have big parties. My favorite tidbit of Halloween history is how young people would name two nuts after themselves and a desired partner, then put them both in the fire and see if they popped, which indicated whether or not the match was a good one.

Lady B: It seems a thorough mish-mash.

I suppose it is, historically speaking! But it’s great fun, and these days it allows everybody to get dressed up in costume, especially scary costumes. So you see, my favorite TV show— er— theater production as a child was always about monsters and haunted houses. Also, the hero of my next book has two very large dogs. So I’m dressed as Scooby-Doo.

Lady B: Hm. And your fellow authoresses?

Sarah: As I never remember that it’s Halloween in time to do anything extravagant, I’m dressed as a romance novelist. Think Miss Piggy. Big hair, feather boa–

<squawk!> Feathers! <squawk!>

Sarah: Don’t worry, Albert. They aren’t parrot feathers. I don’t think. Anyway…and what romance novelist costume would be complete without a Pomeranian? I borrowed this one from a neighbor. <yip!> (The dog mounts Sarah’s leg.) No! Down, Lady. Bad dog.

Lady B: (raising a brow) Lady, you say? How…ironic.

Katharine: (snort) I wouldn’t put that sort of behavior past certain la–

(Lady B’s brow perks higher yet)

Katharine: Er. What I mean to say is, diminutive dogs, Napoleon complex, you know.

Sabrina: Dogs seem to be a theme this year. However, I deviated a bit and am dressed as Juliet from Romeo and Juliet, revisiting my brief childhood acting experience. The Zeffirelli version inspired my costume, so think of Olivia Hussey and you’ll imagine what I look like perfectly. Well, what the costume looks like.

Gaelen: Oooooo, ooooo, OOOOOOOOOO! (Did I scare you?) I’m a ghost, preferably the Gray Lady who haunts Kilburn Castle (Rohan’s home in My Dangerous Duke). Boo!

Miranda: I’ve decided to go traditional for this Halloween party, i.e. scary. Since it’s highly unlikely that I will ever write a paranormal romance, I’m going to unleash my inner bloodsucker and go as a vampire. I haven’t yet decided whether to go camp (Elvira Mistress of the Dark) or horrible (Bride of Dracula).

Lady B: This Halloween is merely an occasion for a costume ball?

Katharine: Not exactly, although lots of people throw Halloween parties. But the usual practice is that on Halloween night children don costumes and walk from house to house, knock on doors, and when the doors open they shout—

<squawk!> Trick or treat! <squawk!>

Katharine: Which in translation means, “If you don’t give me a treat, I will play a trick on you.”

Lady B: Young ruffians.

Katharine: Aren’t they? Especially after all that candy. The little darlings.

Tessa:  Tell me about it. I have two little ruffians of my very own, Lady B, and Halloween gets harrowing.

Lady B: Miss Dare, is that you? What is this long, draped tunic you’re wearing? With all that kohl around your eyes, you look positively…Egyptian.

Tessa:  Exactly, Lady B. I’m Cleopatra. On a day when my little ones get entirely out-of-hand, I rather covet her supreme power. Not to mention, her accessories.

Lady B: I’ve no doubt, dear gel, that you are capable of managing any ruffians who offer you tricks, as are your heroines and fellow authoresses’ heroines. Especially the gentlemanly sort of ruffian.

Katharine: I like the way you think, my lady. And do you know what, I see all of our most recent heroines here today. I think you should ask them which they would prefer from their gentlemen, a trick or a treat?

Sarah: Don’t tell our guests which heroine is answering, though. It will ruin the fun.

Tessa: Oh, yes. Let’s let them guess.

Miranda: How about a prize for the winner? Whoever identifies all six heroines correctly by their responses gets today’s giveaway.

Lady B: Splendid idea. Let’s begin! Ladies, which would you prefer your gentlemen to offer you, a trick or a treat?

Lady #1: Most days, my gentleman is too proper for games like this…but I am happy to say that since we married, he’s made time for more treats. I should like a trick from him tonight, however…as I do love to see the childish side of him.

Lady B: I believe you mean childlike, my dear.

Lady #1: Is that not what I said? (Waving one hand in the air.) I mean the side of him that laughs and teases and plays. That side is very very rare. And very very tempting. (She sighs.) Yes. A trick. Most definitely.

Lady #2:  I like this game, and it’s not one I need confine to one day a year. The worst trick I could play on my darling husband would be to kidnap his tailor. Or, less drastically, I could hide all his clothing. That will result in a treat for both of us.

Lady B: Delicious!

Lady #3:  The most horrid trick my husband played on me was showing up in the first place! He invaded my quiet seaside village, took possession of our ancient castle, blew apart our tranquility, and somehow managed steal my heart. But now that the wounded beast is soothed, so to speak, I enjoy many a treat. Frequently outdoors. Ahem.

Lady B: Nature unmasked, as it were.

Lady #4: I haven’t worn a mask such as this since my marriage. Amazing how I feel right at home again with the disguise! Ah, but back to the question: Even though he likes to play the proper gentleman, I assure you, my husband knows exactly what sort of naughty trick I prefer. In fact, the trick is a bit of a treat, if you know what I mean.

<squawk!> Tricky talent! <squawk!>

Lady #5: Honestly, between you and me, my husband’s tricks ARE a treat. *g* Irresistibly so. Like they say, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for. The polite gentlemen who can be very bad, indeed, behind closed doors. Well, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Of course, it’s a bit of a trick making sure the little one up in the nursery doesn’t hear us. He got away from his governess the other day and very nearly walked in on us. Most embarrassing. Fortunately, my husband is the consummate diplomat and managed to send the boy off on some errand without little Thomas ever being the wiser. But it was a close thing, that.

Lady B: I admire a man who can don different roles as required.

Lady #6: I agree. But since my husband’s public life is already something of a masquerade, he and I usually leave tricks to others. I adore the treats he favors me with in private, though, or really wherever he favors me with them… in the pouring rain, on a billiards table… any place he prefers. And, as he is a generous man, he prefers favoring me quite, quite often. (dreamy smile)

<squawk!> The tricks and treats have it! <squawk!>

Lady B: I daresay, you scallywag.

 

Honored guests, to celebrate the day we’re giving away a treat: a $30 Amazon gift card. Identify our six heroines by their responses to Lady B’s question, and tomorrow we’ll randomly choose one winner from all who answered correctly. And do tell us what costume you’ve donned for our ball today! Happy Halloween! 

Bright Star (2009; 2 hrs) is a gorgeous Regency-era movie based on the three-year romance between poet John Keats and his “muse,” Fanny Brawne. Keats is played by Ben Whishaw (who looks like he could blow away in a good breeze), while the intrepid Fanny is played by Abbie Cornish.

Now, I trust it is hardly a spoiler to say this can’t have a happy ending because of the early end Keats came to, but since you know it’s coming, it’s easier for those of us who greatly prefer the HEA to at least brace for it. Personally, I tend to avoid sad movies like the plague, but this one was worth the Kleenexes because, well, it’s about one of the most beloved poets in English literature, the heroine is wonderful, and the costumes and sets are a Regency lovers’ delight. The story is set in 1818.

My Personal Reactions: Now, I am neither Siskel nor Ebert, and I don’t  mean to ruffle any feathers over a culturally enshrined Dead Poet, but my chief reaction to the storyline was: “John, what the hell are you doing?”

 I was going to rave on and on about the amazing costumes as they deserve, but I really have to get this off my chest.

I’ve always been a devoted fan of Keats (Who isn’t.) Out of all the Romantic poets, he has always been I think my favorite. But I have to say this evocative and certainly poetical movie cast my literary idol in an unexpectedly unflattering light—at least, for me. I knew about his affair with Fanny, but in the movie, the whole conflict of why they can’t be together in the story hinges on his inability to support a wife and family by his writing—and his refusal to get a J-O-B so that he could’ve married her.

Keats was educated–at great expense–to become a doctor and could’ve made a good living, but no. by the time he was getting out of medical school, he announced that he wasn’t interested in medicine anymore but had, oh, just had to become a Writer. He told his brother (not in the movie) that if he could not study poetry, he would surely die! Ugh.

So, it never struck me until I saw it played out in the movie how absurd it is for a man to be known, revered, and remembered for being a romantic poet while in actuality putting the person who loved him the most second to his art. You see the irony???

I felt like someone needed to send for Sassy Gay Friend to help poor Fanny get her head right.

 Piss-poor Attitude, indeed.

Rather than get a Day Job, our great romantic poet makes no move whatsoever to take their relationship to the next level. He leaves all that to Fanny, so that, I guess, he wouldn’t have to risk anything, or sacrifice anything but leave all the risks and sacrifices to her. And then he gives her attitude about “what have you done to me” in terms of his feelings. Humph. Am I going wrong here? Did anyone else here want to smack him, if you saw the movie?

If this part of the movie was based on fact, I can’t help but suspect he might’ve seen Byron making his 10,000 pounds off Childe Harold and saw no reason why it couldn’t happen to him. Why pull out teeth, set broken bones, and deliver babies when you can be rich and famous and the toast of London and sleep with anyone you want.

And so, the immortal poetry suddenly begins to ring a little hollow. Why a sensible girl like Fanny allowed him to get away with that, who knows. What could she do? It was the Regency period, and she didn’t have a dad to make Keats man up and marry her or go away. (By the way, Sassy Gay Friend has other vidoes on Youtube. Look him up, they’re great.)

Perhaps the storyline was altered from real life to make the movie more interesting. All I know was that it made me want to go back in history and shake some sense into him, and tell him to get his priorities straight. Maybe if he would’ve lived longer he would have had the chance to outgrow this immaturity.

In fact, there is a scene in the move that I think was intended to seem greatly romantic (where Fanny is reading one of his love letters during an absence). It does an excellent job of reminding you what it’s like to be about 17 and sicky-in-love with your Boyfriend. The erstwhile sensible Fanny becomes so distraught and “Like Mom you totally don’t understand me–you’re so shallow!” that I LOL’ed.  You can see by widowed Mom’s face that she’s been through more in life than Fanny has yet begun to grasp.

Once the relationship is established, the passivity and strange powerlessness of John seems to spread to the previously assertive Fanny so that she does not take the action I thought that a heroine ought to have taken at the end, making a certain trip (avoiding spoilers here). Yet despite the disillusionment with my poet idol and this fleeting moment of annoyance at the heroine, who I otherwise adored, I was fascinated by this movie.  

See what you think. The storytelling is very good, the pacing is good for a quiet movie, the acting is excellent, and the visuals of it all are breathtaking and richly textured. The Regency costumes are to-die-for, and I noticed in the Bonus Material on the DVD that apparently the job of Costume Designer and Set Designer was given to the same person, an unusual situation, but one that has obviously added to the visual unity of every frame. The palette is so beautifully well harmonized and perfect for that Regency feel. I really enjoyed this movie and will watch it again. It just led me to see Keats in a different, not quite as favorable light as I had previously thought of him.

 Have any of you seen Bright Star already? What did you think?

If you haven’t seen it yet, there are other movies about the lives of poets and writers these days, as well, like Becoming Jane or the older film, Haunted Summer, or even Shakespeare In Love. Care to share your musings on the lives of the great writers in any of these films?

Regency Fashion Show

Lady B: Welcome, dear ones! Do come in and make yourselves at home! We have left the gentlemen at home today so we might take an afternoon to revel in our female fripperies. They don’t understand our preoccupation with looking well! I’m sure they’d prefer all women to go around naked, never mind that it is practically November. In any case, Ms. Foley has offered us a trunk show today of all the latest fashions. So help yourselves to a glass of champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberry, and sit back for our fashion show.

Gaelen: Good day, my august Ballroomarians. Fashionable creatures that you are, I thought you might enjoy some photos of Regency style clothing that I took at the Jane Austen Center in Bath and the Bath Costume Museum. Visitors are very fortunate that they let you take pictures at both places. Enjoy the show!

 

First, a nice ensemble of male formal-wear, pre-1810 because of the knee breeches. The lovely dark blue tailcoat is double breasted, and the patterned waistcoat coordinates. A nice fluffy sort of cravat (possible the Romantic style knot), and note also the way the sleeve ruffle of the white shirt drapes below the cuff of the coat sleeve. This display was in the Jane Austen Center, Bath….

 

 

 

 

 

 

This group is also from the Jane Austen Center in Bath. Shown (Left to Right) are: a woman’s day dress with lace shawl, typical day-wear for a male child, and a girl’s white muslin gown….

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next, two ladies of the earlier part of the Regency in white muslin ballgowns. Note the beautiful white-on-white embroidered trains, high waists, and the all-important accessory, the India/kashmir/Persian shawl artfully draped over each young beauty’s arm! Bath Costume Museum. They are tres elegantes….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ladies’ Daywear. This mannequin is shown wearing a spencer (jacket) over a simple white day-dress. Note the fashionable plume on her bonnet and the reticule (purse) in coordinating colors hanging from her arm. Jane Austen Center, Bath….

 

 

 

 

 

More ladies’ daywear. These ladies are dressed for cooler weather in long-sleeved gowns in a heavier, patterened fabric:

(Left) A dress like the lady on the Left is wearing could work as half-mourning because it has a checked pattern with black in it. I was particularly delighted with this figure because if you look closely, she is wearing spectacles like a good Regency bluestocking heroine. You might not be able to see it in the less-than-great photo, but she also has a “tucker” or fichu tucked into the neckline of her gown for added warmth and modesty.

(Right ) The figure on the right is wearing a brown pelisse. (Not sure of the fabric here–it’s shiny, possibly a satin blend.) Note her small, wispy bonnet and oversized reticule. (She must carry everything but the kitchen sink around in her purse like I do.) Bath Costume Museum….

 

Any shoe girls out there? Regency ladies’ shoes. Check out the pair of “kid half boots” in the middle. These look pretty basic for daywear, but fancy versions in embroidered velvet or other rich fabrics could be worn with evening gowns. On either side of the half boots, the little shoes closely resembles ballet slippers. Slippers like these could be worn for day or evening….

 

Never enough shoes… More slippers. Note that the pair on the Left, of kid leather, are laced up with a ribbon. The middle ones look like dancing slippers to me, again probably of kid leather, but the pair on the right could be of satin. Bath Costume Museum.

 

 So there you have it!

Lady B: Don’t forget, my darlings, Lady Miranda held a Regency Project Runway here in August if you missed it. If you you had not yet joined us here at the Ballroom, you might like to review her wonderful prints of ugly Regency clothes, where we got to vote for the ugliest outfit. It was wonderfully snarky good fun that day, making fun of fashion disasters.
http://www.theballroomblog.com/2011/08/regency-project-runway-part-ii-lady-b-delivers-the-auf/

Gaelen: Also, if you do want more details on Regency clothes, you are welcome to visit the following links to articles on my website. The Lady’s Wardrobe: http://www.gaelenfoley.com/archives_history1.html  and The Gentleman’s Wardrobe: http://www.gaelenfoley.com/archives_history2.html. I wrote them a few years ago, but that’s the beautiful thing about Regency clothes. They never go out of style. *g*

<First stare! All the kick!>

Thank you, Albert.

[By the way, ladies, I'll be hosting the Saturday Salon, as well, and I'm planning on talking more about clothes and fashion as they are illustrated in the Regency-era movie, "Bright Star," which is about the life and romance of John Keats and his fashionable ladylove, Fannie Braun. If you have seen the movie, or are able to stream it instantly over the net and would like to discuss it with me, that would be awesome. (Netflix can stream it instantly. I'm sure it's available elsewhere if you use that sort of thing.) The costumes and sets are particularly fine. Just a heads up in advance if anyone else is able to see it Thurs, Fri or Sat night. ]

Here is a trailer for the movie:

 

But back to the subject at hand. I love looking at real clothes from the period. How do you think clothes like these would have made you feel if you were a Regency woman, or how might they have impacted your everyday movements? 

As a writer, I am always pondering how elements of historical settings interacted, like clothes picking up the smell of the hearthfire or the stiffness of a cravat against the man’s neck, or the thinness of those little shoes thru which you must have been so aware of cold winter floors in those big houses before the days of central heating. It makes the period come alive for me. 

Any of those sorts of images strike you? What does it make you think of?

Period movies give us a great chance to see how Regency clothes moved and looked and how they might have felt with people wearing them. Any memorable moments come to mind for you from Regency-era movies you’ve seen, where they did something cool with the clothes in the context of the historical world?

Off the top of my head, I think of the Emma movie with Gwyneth Paltrow and her so-cool archery gloves…

 

 

 

 

 

 Also the Keira Knightly Pride & Prejudice getting the hem of her walking dress all muddy on her long walks.

 

 

What do you imagine it would be like to spend a few days in the Regency time wearing Regency clothes? What would you want to experience? Or, lol, what would you want to avoid? I’m all ears.

 

 

We all enjoyed Miss Caroline Linden’s visit. What a charming gel. And Miranda tells me she left gifts for some of our commenters. So generous. Lisa and Janet W will receive copies of Caroline Linden’s novella I LOVE THE EARL. (Such an excellent title!  Lord B is, of course, a mere Baron, but I appreciate the sentiment.)

Today I’d like to introduce my very good friend and fabulous author Caroline Linden. I found this lovely picture from the Avon party in New York this summer. That’s Caroline on the right, with Laura Lee Guhrke. Don’t they both look gorgeous? Lady B, allow me to present Miss Linden

Lady B: Delighted you could join us. Are you by any chance related to my great aunt the Countess of Lyndon? Lovely gel, though sadly taken in by that scoundrel Barry.

Caroline: My name is spelled differently.

Lady B: I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t like any of my dear Authoresses to be taken in by an Adventurer.

Miranda: [aside] I think Lady B’s been at the ratafia again. [to Lady B.] I hope Caroline will tell us about her recent a trip to London, for a special occasion.

Caroline: Oh yes, the very best sort of occasion for a romance novelist: a wedding!

Miranda: Please tell us about it. Was it a traditional English wedding? I bet it was very different from the Bhutan Royal Wedding that Tessa blogged about last week.

Lady B: We love weddings at The Ballroom. Especially Royal Weddings.

Caroline: It wasn’t royal. Sadly it wasn’t even in Westminster Abbey, and because it was an evening wedding, there was no excuse for me to wear a big hat. Obviously my English friend has no consideration for the deprived Americans … either that, or she feared our hat taste would eclipse even Princess Beatrice’s. But it was a beautiful ceremony, with wonderful music (the bride and groom are both accomplished musicians with many talented friends), much laughter, toasts in foreign languages, and a really beautiful setting: The Foundling Museum.

Miranda: It sounds marvelous. And what an unusual setting. Can you tell us some of the history of the Foundling Hospital?

Caroline: It was founded in 1741 by Captain Thomas Coram to provide ‘maintenance and education of exposed and deserted young children’, who were left at the hospital by parents unable to care for them. Children were left with a small token of some sort–a scrap of cloth, a note, some trinket–which were all registered in hopes the family could someday return to claim the child. Horribly, there was way more need than there were places for all the children. Mothers literally had to win a lottery to be able to leave their baby where it would be fed and cared for; most children were never reclaimed by their parents. Here’s an article about some of the heartbreaking stories in the archives:

Lady B: How dreadfully sad. I shall make Lord B. send a donation to help these poor infants.

Caroline: To support the hospital, prominent artists and musicians contributed works. Handel conducted concerts for the benefit of the hospital, and William Hogarth, Joshua Reynolds, and Thomas Gainsborough (among many) donated artwork, which now form the Foundling Museum Collection. The Foundling Hospital ceased taking in abandoned children in the 1950s, and it split into the Museum and the Thomas Coram Foundation for Children, which still provides assistance to children and families in need.

Miranda: What an amazing history.  Sounds really worth a visit. Where did the ceremony take place? Not in orphan dorms, I hope.

Foundling Hospital: Court Room

Caroline: The wedding was in two beautifully restored Georgian rooms, the Court Room and the Picture Gallery. The ceiling in the Court Room has a magnificent ceiling; the Museum provides mirrors so you can study it without breaking your neck.

Miranda: What incredible interiors. I bet they didn’t let the children play in them!

<squawk> did they allow parrots? <squawk>

Miranda: Why would they not, Albert? Caroline, You have a new book out, ONE NIGHT IN LONDON (one of Avon’s K.I.S.S. and Teal books, along with Tessa and Katharine’ new releases) as well as a novella. Can you tell us about I LOVE THE EARL, and how it fits in with your new series?

Caroline: I LOVE THE EARL is the accidental prequel to the trilogy. I wrote it after finishing the second book of the trilogy. I couldn’t have written it sooner, though, because the character didn’t exist until I sent Gerard, the duke’s youngest son, to visit his aunt in BLAME IT ON BATH. Whenever I have a character of any import at all, I make up little stories about them, just so I get a better feel for how they will act, and so I decided this aunt had a romantic story of her own, along with a gossipy friend and a tart sense of humor. Her scene kept getting longer and longer, and then I wrote her into the ending of ONE NIGHT IN LONDON during edits, and then it just seemed right that she get a whole story.

Miranda:  I’m so glad you wrote it. I loved Margaret’s story, and enjoyed the Georgian setting so much.

Caroline: Thank you. Because she’s the aunt and not a young woman, her story had to take place much earlier: in 1771, to be precise. It worked out rather well, because the duke of the trilogy dies in the first chapter–but in 1771, he had just inherited his dukedom and was a man of 40. So I could write about the central figure of the trilogy directly in the novella, which was nice. In the books he’s already dead and I could only write about him through his sons’ eyes. Although, I have to admit, writing about him made me somewhat sorry for the sad life I gave him, and I feel even worse when people who’ve read I LOVE THE EARL write to ask if Francis will get his own happily-ever-after story (no, he doesn’t).

Miranda: The de Lacey family series [The Truth About the Duke] has a fascinating premise. What’s it like writing a mystery that only gets resolved after three books?

Caroline: In some respects it’s been very hard; I’ve written suspense and mystery plots before but they were always wrapped up in one book. The temptation to give away the secrets has been overwhelming at moments, and I had to do some very careful read-throughs to make sure I kept information hidden until the proper moment… In other ways it was better, because I really didn’t know how the overall mystery was going to unravel when I wrote the synopsis and first book. In fact, my editor said my explanation for the mystery sounded “shaky.” She’s normally very tactful, so I think this was an expression of complete dread that I had no idea what I was doing. But I assured her it was OK, I didn’t mean anything I wrote in that synopsis anyway, and the books would be completely different. For some reason she fell for this excuse, and I was free to spend another six months coming up with a good solution to the problem. Well, I hope it’s good, anyway!

Miranda: Can’t wait to find out what happens, and to see more of Edward’s two yummy brothers,  Charlie and Gerard. Who’s up next? And how long do we have to wait?

Caroline: Gerard is up next, in March 2012–only a little over four months away. It actually takes place at the exact same time as ONE NIGHT IN LONDON, but it’s set in Bath, which is the most beautiful town. When I visited Bath last year, I decided then and there to set a book in the town just so I could buy every photo and book in sight as a legitimate research exercise. Then Charlie, the oldest brother, comes last, in September 2012. His is the book I’m working on right now, and it’s SO NICE to be able to spill the secrets at last! I wrote out all the blackmail letters, the duke’s last confession, everything involved in the mystery. They won’t all be in the book, of course; maybe I’ll post them on my website. There’s a page on my website dedicated to this trilogy, including extras like a family tree, and I plan to keep adding to it.

Miranda: I bet you did a brilliant job with the mystery. I can’t wait to read all the books and find out.

The Foundling Hospital will be hard to beat, but Caroline and I would like to know what’s the most fabulous or unusual wedding locale you’ve every attended. Two lucky commenters will receive copies of the print edition of Caroline’s novella I LOVE THE EARL. It’s a great story and not easy to find if you aren’t an ebook reader. Even if you are, this a collectible, folks!

 

I don’t write to music. I prefer quiet (or rather, my dogs’ snores).

But for every book I write I create a playlist that I listen to while busy with other tasks—driving, running, gardening. This music keeps me in the story, where I most love to be.

Each playlist is unique to each couple, each love story. The songs reflect the characters’ personalities, or the tone of a scene or a whole book. Sometimes the lyrics draw me, at other times a musical phrase, and often a singer’s voice. Mostly it’s the intensity of emotion that grabs me. So I think of the songwriters and singers on my playlists as ghostwriters, inspiration that speaks to the soul of each book.

I draw from many different types of music for my playlists. First and foremost, music particular to the culture or period that I’m writing about is essential. When I was writing Swept Away by a Kiss, I lingered over symphonies and concerti written by the “Mozart Noir”, Joseph Boulogne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges, a Frenchman born in the Caribbean to a white plantation owner and a former slave, who became a celebrated composer, master fencer, and dashing ladies’ man in Paris before the Revolution.

To help you place Boulogne, he was a contemporary of Alexandre Dumas Sr., father of the Alexandre Dumas who wrote The Three Musketeers. (Who else is excited to see the new movie?!)

Because of the different nature of the characters and story, Captured by a Rogue Lord got quite another sort of musical treatment. While writing that book I learned sea chanteys like “My Son John” and “Haul Away Joe”, and sang them to friends and strangers alike whenever anybody would listen. (I actually sang one of these sailor songs at a book signing once. If any of you lovelies are ever crazy enough to ask, I will be happy to sing one for you too.)

For my research trip to Scotland while writing When a Scot Loves a Lady, I stuffed my iPod with Scottish folk songs. I plugged them into the stereo of my 6-cylinder black Mercedes Benz while I drove through the green, rolling hills of the Lothians, filling my head and heart with the music of that land while I explored.

(I’d rented a compact car, by the way, but the Mercedes was the only automatic transmission available at the rental car agency. I’m intrepid, but not enough to drive a stick with my left hand, and I’m so glad. It was like Christmas on top of Christmas!)

My playlists have plenty of today’s popular music in them too. The rough male vocals, rich guitar, and heart-pounding rhythms of a few testosterone laden super bands—Nickelback, Breaking Benjamin, Linkin Park—often reflect my heroes on my playlists, driving all that tortured-soul-with-unswerving-purpose I like to write. The moment I first heard Eddie Vedder’s “Hard Sun”, it gave me chills and I knew it was Steven Ashford’s song. The emotion and lyrics are so powerful and aching, heartbreak and injustice mounting to a haunting pitch, it put me in Steven’s head and heart every time I listened to it. (I love this YouTube version. The banner of Steven’s ship is a black hawk on a yellow backing.)

Of course it’s not all torture and pain! While Alex Savege’s first song is Radiohead’s darkly aggressive “Talk Show Host”, Alex’s heroine Serena turned that right around and the next song on that playlist is Faith Hill’s “This Kiss”. I adore sweet, joyful girl bands, like Rosi Golan and her “Shine”, which anchored my playlist for In the Arms of a Marquess. All-out sexy fun works for me too, like Hey Monday’s “Obvious” that perfectly describes Lady Kitty Savege’s need to get very close very quickly to a certain Scottish lord in my next book.

My heroines also often call for the sensual tones of slightly more mature women singers. When Serena first climbed aboard Alex’s ship, Norah Jones’s “Turn Me On” accompanied her. And at one moment in Octavia Pierce’s reunion with Ben Doreé, Sarah McLachlan’s “Fear” said everything.

It’s all about the deep emotion.

And so last but far from least… the love songs. I consider all the songs on my playlists love songs, even if they’re not technically defined as such. But some songs are unquestionably about lovers. I listen to these delicious, heart-rendingly romantic songs again and again when I’m writing a story.

Want to know the core songs for the lovers in my Rogues of the Sea trilogy?

Steven and Valerie – Des’ree’s “Kissing You”

Alex and Serena – Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes”

Ben and Tavy – Lifehouse’s “You and Me”

 

What is your favorite love song of all time? If that’s too hard to choose, how about your top three? If enough of you lovelies tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine, and it might not be what you’d expect!

Do you all remember my relation, Mary, the one from the North with the handsome, scarred, reclusive son? Well, she’s in town this week and I’ve invited her to the ballroom. She should be arriving any minute.

Lady B: This is the woman who has decided to place an advertisement for a wife for her son?

“Well, not quite,” I hedge.

Lady B: Not quite is not a proper sort of answer. She either is or she isn’t.

Lady B is staring at me with that look of hers, the one that won’t stand for any nonsense. “I think I’ll let her explain when she arrives. After all I wouldn’t want you to think that I support her scheme.”

Lady B: That sounds positively incriminating and now I’m terrified to know just what sort of friends you consort with and that I’ve invited to my ballroom.

“Oh, she’s not a bad mother, she’s just desperate,” I explain quickly. “We all know the lengths to which a mother with an unwed child will go. Remember when Mrs. Bennett sent her daughter to walk in the rain in hopes of her being stranded at Mr. Bingley’s?”

Lady B: Yes, but that was a work of fiction.

That stops me for a moment as I flounder in a sea of metaphysical confusion.

However, Lady B apparently has not lost her focus.

Lady B: In fact, now that I recall, the last women you invited to my home were exceedingly badly behaved.

My cheeks feel hot and I know I’m flushing with embarrassment, just like one of my heroines.

“Oh, the mistresses. Funny that you should mention them.”

Lady B: Oh, no.

I look at the large, ornate clock, whose mechanisms I can just hear at this distance, as if the second hand could conjure up my friend. However, in the meantime, I must distract Lady B, or at least assure her that there is no need to worry.

“I assure you, Mary is not a bad mother. After all she is nothing like Mrs. Harlowe in Richardson’s Clarissa. She’d never allow her child to be locked up or pressure her to marry someone she didn’t want.”

Lady B: Well from what I hear, this Mary’s son has locked himself up.

<< Squawk! Mary, Mary, quite contrary! >>

“Well, her son is contrary at least and that is the problem.”

But he won’t be for long.

We all look to the door where the Butler has just announced Mrs. Martin.

Lady B: Welcome to my home, Mrs. Martin, I’ve heard so much about you.

Mary: And I you, Lady Beaufetheringstone. It is so kind of you to invite me. Please forgive me but I’m all a flutter. I’ve only just come from the newspaper office and the thrill and forwardness of my actions has me quite overcome.

Lady B: And what exactly have you done, Mrs. Martin? Miss Darby says that you have not quite placed a matrimonial advertisement for your son.

Mary: I most certainly would never do such a thing! That would embarrass Georgie terribly, not to mention he would never forgive me. And in any event, as you know the particulars of my situation, may I speak bluntly though we have just met? I am not entirely certain my son is comfortable with ladies. I thought perhaps to test the waters, so to speak, by finding him a mistress.

<< Squawk! Mistress! >>

But other than the parrot, there is deathly silence in this corner of the Ballroom.

Mary is a rather daring and interfering mother, and I cannot imagine any hero-worthy son would find her advertising for a mistress much more palatable than a matrimonial advertisement. However, my relative, like most mothers, is assured her actions will help her son. Regardless, she is certainly setting up a situation fraught with the possibility for scandal and there is nothing Lady B likes better in the ballroom! What about everyone else? Who are your favorite mothers of regency fiction, be they good or evil?

Today, I’ve snuck a bit of contraband into the ballroom.  I’m hoping Lady B won’t take notice… But as usual, nothing escapes her ladyship’s attention.

Lady B:  Miss Dare, am I mistaken, or are you reading the newspaper? In my ballroom?

I’m sorry, Lady B.  I’m just so engrossed by the news of the royal wedding.

“Still?” says Lady B.  ”I thought that was all finished months ago.”

No, no.  Not Wills and Kate–

Lady B gives me a stern look.  ”Miss Dare, tell me you did not just refer to the Prince of Wales as ‘Wills’.”

Er… Of course not.  Anyhow, I’m reading about a different royal wedding today.  The wedding of King Jigme, the Dragon King, to 21-year-old Jetsun Pema, a commoner.  Isn’t it romantic?  He married down, just like you did when you fell madly in love with Lord B.

Lady B’s cheeks color slightly.  ”I’ll have you know, there was nothing ‘mad’ about my courtship with Lord B.”

<<Squawk! Cuckoo!>>

Really, Lady B?  Albert seems to have other ideas. But here, before you turn positively crimson, have a look at these highlights:

(If you’d like to see even more beautiful footage from the wedding and celebration, including the king and queen’s first kisses, click here. The video can’t be embedded, sorry!)

Lady B peers hard.  ”What pageantry.  Their attire is remarkably colorful.”

Gorgeous, isn’t it?

“Indeed.  I’ve never seen the like.  Where did you say this was, again?”

Bhutan. It’s a tiny Himalayan country.  The only nation on earth to take a routine measurement of Gross National Happiness.

Lady B lifts an eyebrow. “I’d say those two look quite happy indeed.  They’re likely skewing the average.”

I think their happiness is contagious.  There’s nothing like the tale of a king marrying a commoner to capture the public’s imagination — especially when the bride in question is so lovely and the king is so obviously adoring.  Just listen to this bit from the newspaper article, Lady B:

Others admire the apparent impact the daughter of an airline pilot has made on the king, who talks openly of his love and admiration for her, even holding her hand at public functions.

“He really loves her,” said 16-year-old schoolgirl Jurme Choden as she waited to practise a dance routine for the public celebrations on Saturday. “Wherever he goes he holds her hand. Now young people are starting to copy.”

The royal couple apparently met when aged 17 and seven respectively at a family picnic in Thimphu.

The then-prince got down on his knees and said “when you grow up, if I am single and not married and if you are single and not married, I would like you to be my wife, provided we still feel the same,” he told students in August.

Lady B looks amazed.  ”Seven years old?  My word.  How precocious.”

If that’s not fairy-tale material, I don’t know what is!

Do you know any real-life love stories that bear a resemblance to fairy tales?  Your own, maybe – or the stories of parents, grandparents, friends or acquaintances?

Speaking of fairy tales, you might have heard that I have a Christmas novella coming out!  It’s a Spindle Cove story, and it’s called Once Upon a Winter’s Eve.  When my agent read the story, she called it “a fairy tale for nerdy girls.”  I quite like that description, since I consider myself the nerdiest girl of all.  I just got the cover art late last week and couldn’t resist sharing today.  Isn’t it lovely?  It’ll be available November 15th!

I grew up in England with parents who believed in culture. My father’s idea of a fun game was guessing the date of a Gothic church. Hardly a month went by when my siblings and I weren’t dragged off to see a museum or historic site of some kind. And although I like to think I was a normal child (I had an-eight year calendar in which I checked off the days until I was old enough to legally marry Paul McCartney) I mostly enjoyed these educational outings. There were limits to my tolerance, however, as I discovered when I was taken to the British Museum to see the Elgin Marbles, the sculptures from the Parthenon. Confronted with these masterpieces of art, I felt very like Freddy Standen, the adorably beta hero of Georgette Heyer’s Cotillion:

… when … he confronted these treasures of ancient Greece, he was quite dumbfounded, and only recovered his voice when he was called upon to admire the Three Fates, from the eastern pediment, “Dash it, they’ve got no heads!” he protested.

“No, but you see, Freddy, they are so very old! They have been damaged!” explained Miss Charing.

“Damaged! I should rather think so! They haven’t got any arms either!”….

… the disclosure that he had been maced of his blunt by a set of persons whom he freely characterized as hell-kites only to see a collection of marbles of which the main parts were missing so worked upon him that he could not be brought to recognize the merits of the frieze, but seemed instead to be … much inclined to seek out the author of this attempt to gull the public….

To my teenage self the Parthenon sculptures became the gold standard for tedium. “As boring as the Elgin Marbles” was a terrible insult, often applied to the spotty sons of my mother’s friends.

The marbles are an important part of Regency lore. Lord Elgin, British ambassador to Turkey, had them removed from the Parthenon in Athens and shipped to London in the early years of the nineteenth century. They were put on display in London and eventually sold (for less than Elgin’s costs) to the British Museum. Even then the removal of  sculptures from such a famous and ancient building was controversial. Elgin’s actions were condemned by Byron, among others. But visitors flocked to see them and they were much admired (notwithstanding the opinions of Philistines like Freddy and me).

All right, I didn’t remain a total Philistine. When I grew up, I visited the marbles again a few times and admired them, in a slightly academic way. And, as a student of the Regency era, I envisioned my characters’ reactions to them a couple of hundred years ago. But I didn’t really “get” them until last month, when I visited Athens for the first time. I saw the Parthenon (which was rather more beat up than I expected) and the remaining sculptures, which are housed in the spiffy new Acropolis Museum, designed to hold them. To hold the ones in Greece, the ones in London, and the odd fragments scattered in other museums around the world.

Because the Greeks want them back. They seriously want the British Museum to pack ‘em up and reverse what they regard as Lord Elgin’s act of vandalism. Watching a movie shown (in English) at the Acropolis Museum, I got the distinct impression that Elgin’s actions were a far greater tragedy than the seventeenth century explosion that destroyed half the temple when the Turks were using it as a gunpowder repository. If Elgin were alive today, he’d be a dead man.

I stopped in London for a few days on my way home from Greece and revisited the marbles, now called the Parthenon Marbles (no one likes Elgin anymore). The display at the British Museum is just as splendid as that at the Acropolis, but the curatorial message is very different. How excellent, it implies, that people can see these masterpieces of world art in a major cultural institution in a major city, where admission is free for all.

Should the British send the Parthenon Marbles back to Greece? Reams have been written on both sides of the argument and I only offer a quick, incomplete, and no doubt grossly simplified summary.

The British side:

- Since Greece was part of the Ottoman Empire in 1801 and Elgin got permission from the Turkish government, the removal was legal.

- Even if it wasn’t legal, the statute of limitations applies.

- Elgin saved the marbles from further degradation and even destruction had they been left in Athens.

- Returning the marbles to Greece would set a precedent that would empty half the museums in the world.

The Greek side:

- Elgin acted illegally.

- The Parthenon is one of the most famous buildings in the history of the world and it’s an outrage that part of its decoration should have been removed.

- The marbles that Elgin didn’t steal (and his method of removal isn’t exactly up to modern standards of conservation) have survived in Athens, proving that Elgin’s action wasn’t necessary for their safety.

- All the marbles should be together, in their original home city, in the state-of-the-art facility build to house them.

I don’t have a dog in this race, largely because I doubt the British Museum will let them go, even if hell’s temperature should happen to drop below 32 degrees. I also worry about restitution setting off a tempest of other claims and making a lot of lawyers richer and museums poorer. But I know nothing about international law and could be talking utter rot. What about you? Do you think the Elgin Marbles should be returned to Greece, so are you happy for them to remain in London?

It’s a Thursday in the Little Season, and  so, we find the usual crush inside Lady B’s famous Ballroom. The grand hostess signals to her butler to spike the champagne punch (discreetly, of course) with something stronger–when suddenly, she notices the handsome, golden-haired stranger who has just appeared in the doorway.

Her Ladyship narrows her eyes, lifts her mother-of-pearl-handled opera glass to her eye, and says to herself: Hmm, who is this?

I do not believe he has been here before. But he must have been invited…. He has the mark of good breeding. Yes, an aristocratic nose, to be sure. And, dear me, a very fine leg.

<Squawk! He’s coming this way!>

I see that, Albert. Now, hush. Goodness, this is a pretty fellow. If I were a decade younger…

The Stranger approaches, hat in hand. Despite his polite bow, one cannot fail to note the desperation in his blue eyes.

The Stranger: Pardon, my lady.  I don’t mean to come barging in like this. Have you seen Gaelen Foley here tonight?

No, she has not yet arrived.

Stranger, muttering to himself: Blast it, doesn’t that woman own a watch?

Pardon?

Stranger: Er, nothing, ma’am. I was told to meet my author here tonight. She was going to do some research and get back to me, but …Oh, I don’t wish to bore you with my problems.

I realize you don’t know me. Hardly anyone here does, yet. Warily glancing around. Nor will they, not until the latter part of 2012, if the world lasts that long. First there’s Drake’s book in January; I’m later in the year. At the moment, though, behind the scenes, Ms. Foley is working on my story and we…well, I regret to say we’ve hit a snag.

Oh, dear. You poor fellow.

Stranger, glumly: That’s why I’m here. She said I should meet her here, and she would tell me what she had dug up as a solution to my problem–”IF you’re lucky!”–she said. Apparently she’s out of temper with me and I’ll wager you a fiver that’s why she’s not here. She’s making me wait on purpose. But honestly, of all the nerve! I do everything she tells me to in that blasted book, but this, she says it’s very important that I figure this one out for myself. How should I know what to do? I’m a MALE. The subject at issue isn’t our strong suit.

Lady B stares at him in perplexity. 

Stranger: I beg your pardon. I’m ranting, aren’t I? Dash it, I know I shouldn’t have listened to her. It’s poor ton to show up without an invitation, but she said you’d understand.

Lady B to herself: Don’t trouble yourself, dear sir. (His earnest gaze quite makes my heart go pitter-patter.) I suppose you have a name?

Stranger: Quite so. And since my author has not yet arrived to do the introductions, I must cast aside propriety and introduce myself.

Indeed, you must. Scanning him.

<Thor! Is it Thor?>

Lady B: Quiet, Albert.

Stranger: Is there something wrong with your bird?

Lady B: Never mind him. Your name, then, dear boy?

Stranger: I am Sebastian Walker, Viscount Beauchamp–

Lady B: Of course! Lord Lockwood’s heir! Oh, I should’ve recognized the family resemblance at once. You are most welcome here, dear lad. And how is your good father?

Beauchamp / Formerly Known as Stranger: Thank you for asking, ma’am, I’m pleased to say he is as hardy and hale as ever, along with his hunting hounds. More to the point, I’m sure he’ll be very pleased with me (for once) when he hears my news.

Your news? Oh, do tell, Lord Beauchamp! We must have all the gossip here.

Beauchamp: Very well, ma’am. I’m, er (–gulp–) I’m getting married.

Gasp. Are you indeed?

<Cat’s paw! Vicar’s mousetrap! Doomed man, doomed!>

Albert, that is no way to talk about the institution of matrimony. I’m very pleased for you, Lord Beauchamp. And who is the lucky young lady?

Beauchamp: Forgive me, ma’am, but I am not at liberty to announce it prematurely. If I did, in short, she’d throttle me.

Is that why you seem so distracted? You mentioned you’re having some sort of a problem.

Beauchamp: Yes, actually, that’s why I’m here. Gaelen said the ladies here are the cleverest group of females in London, with the most excellent taste. She said if we couldn’t find an answer here to our problem, then there is none.

This sounds serious. Well, you have certainly come to the right place! No matter if Ms. Foley is not here yet. You have me, after all, and all my ingenious lady friends. So, how can we help you, dear lad? Why don’t you sit down here next to me and tell us all your problem.

Lady B beckons to her female friends. They gladly crowd around the lovely specimen.

Is that that Australian hottie from Thor? Lady Katharine whispers.

Hard to say, Lady Miranda replies. I’d have to see him with shirt off.

(Well, if we must.)

Lady B: Now then, my dear sir. You must tell us all.

Beauchamp: Well, it’s quite simple. My wedding is in three days and I have no idea what to get my bride. For a wedding gift, I mean! Please, help me with whatever sage wisdom you ladies can provide. I am, as they say, out of my element.

The need for a good gift is all the more imperative because I’m afraid my bride is not entirely keen on the marriage.

 

Lady B: You must be joking.

Beauchamp: Not at all! She seems to think I tricked her into the match! So, I hope to show her I’m sincere by giving her a wedding gift to dazzle her.  Since we are, er, marrying in haste as they say, the wedding itself won’t be much, and I don’t want her to hate me entirely.

Oh, I doubt that would be possible. (See Photo.)

Beauchamp: Well, the fact is, we’ve only three days before out little impromptu wedding. We’re only waiting for the Archbishop to let us have the special license and then…well, I have to have SOMETHING to give the woman as a token of my affection and whatnot! Otherwise, it’s going to be a very cold marriage bed, and that’s the part I’ve been most looking forward to!

Lady B: Never fear, Lord Beauchamp. (To butler) Bring a brandy for His Lordship. Now then, why don’t you sit down and tell us what sort of presents you were considering for your bride and we ladies shall give you our best counsel.

Beauchamp: Thank you, Lady B. You are much kinder than I have heard.

What’s that?

Beauchamp: Oh, nothing. My first thought, of course, was jewelry. What woman doesn’t like a bit o’ sparkle? I assure you, money is no object. I think she would look very fetching in a necklace or tiara like these ladies here are wearing…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or this…

 

Lady B: Well, either of those choices would be lovely.

 

Beauchamp: I thought so, too! But that impossible Foley woman told me that it’s boring. She said everyone gives their bride jewelry and she expects me to be a little more original than that. I’m supposed to be romantic or something. He lets out a snort then swigs the rest of his brandy in one gulp to let us know what he thinks of that.

 

Lady B: Well, I don’t wish to contradict your author. What other ideas did you have for your lady’s wedding present?

Beauchamp: Glad you asked! My second idea was that she might like a fine equipage and horses for her to travel in style….

…but then I realized she is such a mischievous little thing, it would be perhaps unwise to encourage her to go gadding about Town without me. She really needs a husband’s supervision. A strong hand, don’t you know.

Lady B raises an eyebrow. Indeed? All right, then. What else?

Beauchamp: Fine china with our family crest?

My dear boy, that is a gift a bride should receive from an aged aunt. Not from a lusty young husband.

Beauchamp: …Are you eyeing me, Lady B?

Never! Go on. (Quite the twinkle of charm in those blue eyes once he starts to settle in. Hmm.)

Beauchamp, continuing: I was really running out of ideas, but then wandering aimlessly down Bond Street, something in a shop window caught my eye. It’s really not the usual sort of wedding gift. But it’s beautiful. And it… it makes me smile the way she does and I thought… well, if your bridegroom gave you this on your wedding day, Lady B, would you think it was stupid? I really want to make her happy and for the gift to be meaningful.

A collective Awwwww from the gathered ladies.

Beauchamp: Here, take a look.

Beauchamp: It’s called a Musical Automaton Clock. They’re quite the cleverest inventions. I could have it engraved with our names entwined and some sort of wedding message, you see? This one’s even prettier, but the owner won’t sell it (the V&A) and they won’t even put it on Ye Olde Youtube. If you want to see it, you have to follow this link because the video isn’t share-able:

http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/videos/m/musical-automaton-clock/

Beauchamp: I just thought it might be romantic to give her a clock because, well, because every moment with her is precious to me in this short life. If this won’t do, I could get her just an automata without the clock bit. Like this:

The Silver Swan:

Or this famous Peacock Automaton Clock at the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg:

Beauchamp: They are as ingenious as my lady’s devious little mind. Of course, I have no idea where we’d put the thing. He looks hopefully at us with those blue eyes. What do you ladies think? Which of these items should I give her? What would you want to get for the ideal wedding present?

Gaelen, flinging in at last, closing her umbrella and rushing over cheerfully: Oh, you made it to Lady B’s ballroom, Beau! I’m so glad! Have you got everything sorted out, then?

“Beau” scowls at her. Almost. No thanks to you.

Gaelen, beaming: I knew you could figure it out for yourself. All the best characters do. So what is the consensus? Have the ladies voted on what you’re going to give Carissa?

Lady B: Carissa! You’re marrying Carissa Portland?

Beachamp, turning to his Author in exasperation: I thought we weren’t going to tell them yet!

Gaelen: Oops.

Butler: Lobster patty, madam?

Gaelen: Oh, yes, please! And some champagne punch, tout-suite. Beauchamp, why are you looking at me like that?

He just shakes his head.