I have recently, of late, been spending a lot of time looking at wedding invitations.  (I have my reasons.)  I’ve looked at formal ones, silly, elaborate, simple, and it occurs to me that there is rarely something so compact and distilled that speaks no only to the kind of wedding one will have but also what kind of couple is sending it, than the invitation.  (note to self: as an exercise, design wedding invitations for characters. You can learn so much!)

No longer is the standard the white or cream linen card stock with embossed scrollwork and tissue paper to protect the ink the norm.  No, indeed, today’s couples are choosing their wedding invitations as a form of self-expression.

(All invitations pictured here are courtesy of Zazzle.com, and link to their page, if they pique your interest!)

For instance, this invitation tells me that the couple has a traditional romantic streak, a love of history and things past, and my best guess is they are going to honeymoon in Paris.

 

 

 

And what kind of couple gets away with putting a moustache drawing on their wedding invitations?  The awesome kind, that’s who.  The couple that prizes humor over seriousness, even though they take their futures together very seriously.

 

 

 

 

 

Flowers on a wedding invitation have long been a staple – but white embossed roses are no longer the only choice.  You can have any itineration of flower you desire, you can have them to match your wedding flowers. Swirling, framing flowers on an invitation like this, with the gorgeous teal background tell me that the couple is partly traditional, but partly whimsical, and their wedding has not been planned to within an inch of its life – indeed, if a hurricane came and made their outdoor wedding location a temporary lake, they would shrug their shoulders, and enjoy an indoor occasion as best they could make it.

But I have to tell you, the absolute hands-down, most incredible wedding invitation is not a printed card at all, it is this website: http://jessandruss.us/  And it does not require me to interpret the couple’s romance, because they tell it to you themselves.  Visit the site, enjoy, and become inspired!

I am staring blissfully out the window of the ballroom.  Letting the cool night breeze caress my face, taking a sip of my champagne as I simply take in the vista, the stars, the…

Lady B:  Miss Noble!

… the somewhat constantly irate hostess…

Miss Noble:  Lady B, yes, good evening.

Lady B: Miss Noble, what are you doing?  There are guests!  Miss Ashe is quizzing everyone, heroines who might actually be mistresses, and you remove yourself from the festivities.  Why, you even abandoned your beloved card table who knows how long ago!  And all for what – staring out the window?

Miss Noble:  I have earned a good stare out the window, I promise you, Lady B.

Lady B:  And why would that be?

Miss Noble:  Because I just turned in my latest novel.

Lady B: A hearty congratulations!  When shall we expect new guests?  Please tell me that they will not in anyway bring a ship into my ballroom.

Miss Noble:  It will not be out until next year.  I would not fear a ship, however, and I’ll give you a little hint about the new book – if you bring a piano into the ballroom, it should not cause any structural damage.  But when I finish a book, my head is so fuzzy, I feel I have earned a good long stare out the window, and of course a bottle of bubbly.

I raise my glass to her.  But Lady B just cocks her head to one side, a perfect, inquisitive mirror of Albert, perched on her shoulder.

Miss Noble:  Oh, don’t look at me like that – I deserve an evening with champagne and the mindlessness enjoyment of staring at nothing.  Tomorrow I will continue the ritual with a thorough house-cleaning.

Lady B:  Ritual?  Miss Noble, I am afraid I do not know what you speak.

Miss Noble:  No?  Do you not have some kind of celebration, some little ritual you do when you complete a large task?

Lady B:  I should not admit to it if I did.

Miss Noble:  For heaven’s sake, we all have them!  Why, Miss Ashe tells me she indulges herself in a long, hearty run once she completes a book.

Lady B:  I am not one for such exercise.  I prefer to save my exertions for Lord B’s company.

Miss Noble:  (blushing furiously) Well, what about Miss MacLean?  I happen to know that every time she finishes a work, her shoe collection expands.

Lady B: (eyeing Miss MacLean’s Pradas): She is remarkably well-shod.

Miss Noble:  And Miss Dare and Miss Foley both enjoy the pampering of day spa after the tortures of writing for months on end.

Lady B:  That does explain why Miss Dare had cucumbers over her eyes a few months ago.  That or she indulged in too much ratafia the night before.

Miss Noble:  In either case I warrant a day at the spa is deserved.  Meanwhile, Miss Darby shares my desire for a thorough house cleaning, and Miss Willig – well, she claims to never quite be done enough to celebrate, but the point is, there is nothing shameful in congratulating yourself for a job well done.  So come now, Lady B.  Tell me, what do you do to celebrate a momentous event.

Lady B:  Well, Miss Noble, I shouldn’t be telling you this…

She leans in close to whisper in my ear.  Oh, what fun!  I, the recipient of one of Lady B’s secrets!

Lady B:  I get dressed up in my absolute best gown and feathered headpiece…

Miss Noble:  Yes…

Lady B:  And then I host a ball and force young authoresses to interact with my guests!  Now come along!

Miss Noble:  Ow!  Lady B, please let go of my ear!

While I am being forced into human interaction, tell me – how do you relax and celebrate finishing something big?  Be it a novel, or a project at work, or completing your taxes, I know we all like to pamper ourselves in some small way!

 

Greetings, lovely guests! How To Be a Proper Lady is coming out tomorrow — WEE!! — and I’ve brought Miss Viola Carlyle to the ball with me. Viola, I would like to make you acquainted with our guests.

How do you do, everyone. <peering about a bit anxiously> I thought I was to meet Lady Beaufetheringstone.

Oh, she hasn’t come down yet. But don’t worry! She’ll adore you.

<squawk!> Pants on fire! <squawk!>

Hush, Albert.

You have a parrot?

Not me. Albert is Lady B’s pet.

I was a sailor for fifteen years and I never had a parrot.

<squawk!> You win some, you lose some!

I think I’m not so worried about meeting our hostess anymore.

<squawk!> Yo ho, yo ho! <squawk!>

What did he mean by “pants on fire”?

Ha! Nothing. But we’re wasting time! Before Lady B comes out I wanted to give our lovely guests a quiz. It’s called “Are You a Proper Lady?”

Viola lifts a brow in a gesture I can only imagine she’s adopted because of all the time she’s spent with Jin Seton, her hero. 

<squawk!> Her hero in more ways than one! <squawk!>

I will never know how it is that the bird reads my mind.

What do you think, Viola?

You’ve asked me – <looking out at our guests> of all the beautifully gowned and coiffed women in this ballroom now — to assist with this quiz? <setting fists on hips> Katharine…

Oh, come on! I think after the training you’ve had–

Torture I’ve endured, you mean to say.

–in preparing yourself to enter society as a lady, you’re the best person for this. I can’t very well give a quiz about the challenges of being a proper lady without you, now can I?

All right. But you are a Merciless Creator.

I’m fine with that. And please recall, I gave you Jin.

<smiles>

I rest my case. Okay, shall we begin? Let’s see how many proper ladies we have in the house today. We’ll start with an easy question.

Ha! Even I knew the answer to that one.

Have a little respect, please? Here’s another.

I see where this is going, Katharine.

What? These are perfectly reasonable questions. Now let’s move on to something a little more intimate.

I don’t see why a person can’t choose more than one of the above answers.

Yes, but I don’t know how to do that with the software.

I beg your pardon?

Oh, you just sounded so ladylike! Which brings me to our next question.

You included that last one for yourself.

Complaints, complaints. You know, I have a degree in history, not quiz making. I’d like to see you try this.

Don’t mind if I do.

 

That is not the kind of quiz I intended, Viola.

Your quiz was not as interesting.

You’re really right. Okay, I think even you’ll be happy with my final question.

 

<squawk!> No competition! <squawk!>

I agree completely, Albert.

 

There we have it, ladies! Are you a proper lady or a hopeless case? What qualities do you think make a proper lady in our times now? To celebrate the release of How To Be a Proper Lady, I’ll send one randomly chosen commenter today a $25 gift card to Amazon.com! 

My sister recently returned from a trip to England, Scotland and Ireland. The first part of her trip was a walking tour in Yorkshire, which, for those of you who don’t know yet, is where the majority of The Short and Fascinating Tale of Angelina Whitcombe takes place.

My sister is also the first person to read anything I write, from first page to first kiss, to the end. Thus, as she knew that a sketchbook is featured prominently in the novella, she sent me this little bit of artwork created during her travels.

Then she sent me a photograph of what she was attempting to draw.

Speaking of inspirations, she also walked past the idyllic landscape which Ruskin said was an inspiration and certainly was for Turner and other artists.

Inspired by Captain Martin, the hero of my new novella, she sent me this photograph of Knaresborough Castle, which could certainly use a dark and brooding hero.

She also brought back these charming stuffed animals, which of course made me think of Tessa’s books.

Apparently the Duke of Argyll was signing keepsakes in the gift shop when she happened to visit Inveraray Castle. Thus, I have my very own book signed with “Argyll.”

Now, I am trying to imagine the titled descendents of my heroes and heroines sitting in a gift shop doing the same.

We all know from Jane Austen, that a woman must be highly accomplished. According to Darcy, “the word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen.” According to Miss Bingley, “a woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word…”

After her intrepid journey through the Pennines and the Dales, I believe one could say of my sister “she is a great walker.” She certainly showed off some of Miss Bingley’s qualifications: drawing (on her iPad), singing (Karaoke), dancing (on a cruise at the end of her trip), and proficiency in foreign languages (using her high school French when visiting Normandy). (To the despair of our matchmaking mother, she didn’t come affianced.) While journeying, my sister read (at my behest) the entire 50 shades trilogy. Do you think this is what Darcy had in mind by extensive reading? Regardless, what accomplishments do you think a modern woman should possess?

When Lady B makes a demand, it is impossible not to do one’s utmost to fulfill it. After all, she’s so generous and kind, and hosts a wonderful ball…

Lady B: Miss Darby, are you buttering me up because you bear bad news?

Sabrina: Not at all. I just needed some sort of introduction, of explaining exactly why I’ve invited this particular guest to the ballroom tonight.

Lady B’s brow is furrowed as if she’s struggling to recall. I see exactly the moment that her memory jumps into action. Only…Albert beats her to it.

<< squawk! >> The Actress! << squawk! >>

Sabrina: Precisely. You demanded to meet the heroine of my upcoming novella, The Short and Fascinating Tale of Angelina Whitcombe, and I have delivered.

Lady B: I thought the story was about a Captain Martin. That handsome, taciturn and scarred war hero whose meddling mother advertised for a mistress.

Sabrina: Well, yes, he’s in the story, too, of course. But Angelina is his heroine.

Lady B: And his mistress.

Sabrina: I’m not certain I can speak to that.

<< squawk! >> Tease! << squawk! >>

Lady B is now looking around the ballroom with her lorgnette. Studying the crowd, which is filled with heroines of recent balls past and quite a few heroes. In fact, I see Miss Dare’s Eliza Cade and Miss MacLean’s Cross, and Miss Noble’s Lieutenant Fletcher.

Then I see Angelina, holding court amongst a group of very attractive men. She looks stunning, with her blond hair swept up fashionably and fastened with diamonds. She’s got a wide smile and eyes that seem to flirt with every person, male or female that her gaze rests on. This must be Angelina when she was still the darling of the London theatre, and being kept by Lord Peter Denham. Great. She’s here as a mistress and not the hero’s. How embarrassing!

Lady B: Isn’t that Lord Peter Denham’s mistress?

Sabrina: Correct.

Lady B: She made a charming Viola in Twelfth Night. However, I’m not entirely certain how I feel about a mistress in my ballroom. It was one thing when you invited the lot of them to my parlour, but this is an exclusive event. Albert, do alert the footman to see her out. What’s her name again?

This isn’t going well at all.

Sabrina: Lady B, wait, that’s actually Miss Whitcombe.

Lady B raises her lorgnette again. Then she lowers it and looks at me with a very arch expression.

Lady B: Why am I not surprised? (She gives a long-suffering sigh.) Shall we?

I approach Angelina and her coterie.

Sabrina: Excuse me gentlemen. (I firmly take Angelina’s arm as I try my own inequal attempt at that flirtatiously confident look.) I need to borrow Miss Whitcombe.

One passively handsome gentleman: Bring her back soon!

The man’s speaking rather possessively, so I stop and take a better look. I realize with a bit of shock that this is her latest protector. I never expected to come face to face with him. After all, he’s merely part of the back story, off the page when the story actually begins.

I hurry Angelina away, ignoring him. Lady B is watching us come near and I see that her right toe is tapping.

Angelina: Lady Beaufetheringstone, it’s such an honor to be here tonight. You have the loveliest home.

Lady B’s foot stops tapping. Her hand unfists and her lorgnette drops down to hang from her wrist. She’s no longer quite as put out and that’s all due to Angelina’s charm. See, it isn’t what she says, but rather how she says it. I can see how magnetic she would be on the stage.

Lady B: When do you leave for Yorkshire? I must say, having seen you now, I’m quite surprised you’d hare off on such a wild jaunt on the basis of an advertisement in the paper. Lord Peter Denham and the accolades of London surely is preferable to such an unknown?

Angelina: I beg your pardon?

Angelina is staring at Lady B with the most politely bland expression, as if she thinks our hostess is crazy but would never, ever intimate such a thing.

I cough loudly.

Sabrina: Actually, Lady B, that hasn’t actually happened yet.

Lady B: What do you mean? I met your cousin Mary. She was in my ballroom.

Sabrina: Yes, but…

Angelina: I’m not certain what you are discussing, but I assure you I am quite happy here in London.

Sabrina: You see, Lady B, the Angelina I know is older and wiser.

Angelina: Surely not so much older.

She looks alarmed even though she clearly still has no clue what I am talking about.

Sabrina: I’ll explain, Lady B. (I shoo Angelina off, back to her admirers who have all been sending frequent and languishing glances this way.) You see, the circumstance that befalls Angelina and leads her to such a desperate situation that she answers my cousin’s advertisement hasn’t yet occurred. Please remember, that while this might very well be the year 1816 today, just a few weeks ago it was 1811.

Lady B very prettily scrunches her forehead.

Lady B: I do follow you, Miss Darby, but it is all rather fantastical.

Sabrina: Much like a ship in your ballroom.

Lady B: (rolling her eyes) Yes, I quite see what you mean. You shall have to bring by Miss Whitcombe later, then. When she has been properly settled.

<< squawk >> What befell her? << squawk >>

Lady B: Quite right, Albert.

They both stare at me, waiting. But as the story does not release till July 31, I can hardly share such delicious gossip. So we’ll have to satisfy Lady B with pure conjecture. What do you think would make an actress leave London to be a stranger’s mistress?

As I enter the ballroom today, I make my habitual curtsy in Lady B’s direction.  She immediately crosses the room, lifts her quizzing glass and peers at me.

Tessa:  My goodness, Lady B.  What is it?  Have I grown a third eye?

Lady B:  No, Miss Dare. You’ve freckled.

Tessa:  I have?  I mean, yes.  I suppose I know I have.

Lady B:  Have you been spending time in the sun without a bonnet?

Tessa:  I must confess it’s true.  Mr. Dare and I just returned from a holiday in Hawaii.  And while there, I rarely wore a bonnet.

Lady B:  Hawaii?  What is this place?  And please, dear girl–do not tell me to Groogle it.  I leave the InnerNetting to the authoresses.

Tessa:  We Americans call it Hawaii now.  But you know it as the Sandwich Islands, Lady B.

Lady B:  Ah, yes.  The Sandwich Islands.  I’ve heard tell of them from the Earl of Sandwich himself.

Albert: Squawk! Archipelago!

Tessa:  It’s a string of tropical islands in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  Lush rainforests, dramatic volcanoes, beautiful beaches…

Albert: Squawk! Ahem.

Tessa:  Quite right, Albert. Lots of parrots, too!

Lady B:  Well, it sounds lovely.

Tessa:  Oh, it is.  And the best part of our trip was that we went there for a wedding.  My dear friend and fellow authoress Carey Baldwin got married to her dashing beau–on the beach, at sunset.  It was lovely.

Lady B:  What a radiant bride!

Tessa:  Wasn’t she?  And it was so wonderful to have the four of us together – we’re the same group of friends who put together a new digital anthology for charity, Three Weddings and a Murder.  I wrote a new novella for it, called “The Scandalous, Dissolute, No-Good Mr. Wright.”  I tried to bring Harry and Eliza to a ball a few weeks ago, but they got rather…sidetracked in the parlor.  Kissing.

Lady B, disapprovingly:  Yes.  I recall.

Tessa:  Well, let’s just look at the wedding photos some more.

Lady B:  A wedding, on the beach? In the Sandwich Islands? What sort of special license a couple needs to procure for that ceremony, I dare not guess.

Tessa:  I don’t know about the paperwork required, but we didn’t even need shoes!

Lady B:  Ah, sand betwixt the toes and a fresh, bracing salt breeze.  You’re making me long for a holiday by the sea.

Tessa:  Well, it is the time of year for it.  In Spindle Cove, all the usual young ladies will be gathering for the summer holiday.  Frequent Ballroom guest Amy joined us on Saturday after driving home from Myrtle Beach in South Carolina.  I know several of the other authoresses have summer vacations planned, which may or may not include seashores.

What’s your favorite beach you’ve visited, or one you particularly long to visit?  Feel free to post pictures for Lady B’s edification and our general entertainment.  Some questions:  Do you prefer rocky or sandy beaches?  Atlantic or Pacific (or Mediterranean or…?)  Cloudy or sunny days?  

I always thought I preferred foggy, windbreaker days on rocky beaches, like the beautiful shores of the central and northern California coasts.  But Maui turned me into a sand and sun worshipper!

 

Dear Ms. Amy Valentini,

What a delight it was to see you in Lady B’s Ballroom yesterday, and so soon after returning from  your holiday!  It’s my pleasure to inform you that you are the lucky winner of Sorcery and Cecelia, or the Enchanted Chocolate Pot.  I will be sending an express (email), to which please kindly reply and advise me of your preferred format.

Yours, etc.

Tessa Dare

 

My thanks to all who visited and commented yesterday!

Oh, I just adore this painting.  Just adore it.  From the moment I saw it hanging in the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, I adored it, and so I brought a print and hung it my office, and I look at it all the time.

Adoringly.

To begin with, it’s gorgeous.  I want that outfit.  That bright coral-pink against white and leaf green is one of my favorite color combinations, and I love a plunging neckline.   The fabric textures are rendered in such lush detail, and that green ribbon around her neck is sweetness itself.  Le Sigh.

Then we have all her writing implements on the table.  The airy, delicate quill.  The rather stodgier inkwell furtively ducking behind the chair–not wanting to be implicated, perhaps.  The sealing wax is ready and waiting, bright as a lipstick.  (You know this letter is going to be sealed fast and well, so as to protect its sensitive contents.)  Lastly, I adore that there are at least three or four sheets of paper.  Because everyone knows, no Young Girl can write a proper Love Letter with less than three or four sheets of paper.

But mostly, I adore this painting for Young Girl herself.  The look on her face… Dreamy, mischievous, conspiratorial, sweet, coy, hopeful all at once.   She makes me remember exactly what it felt like to be In Love as a young girl myself–the heady, all-consuming rush of infatuation.   When I was a teenager, I kept a diary – but I only ever wrote in it when I had a mad crush on a boy.  I should have known then I’d end up writing romance novels!

Perhaps in the comments, we can try our hand at transcribing the contents of the Young Girl’s letter.  What exactly is she writing, and to whom?  Probably it’s just my Little Women fixation talking, but I’m convinced her lover’s name is Rodrigo. 

Or if creative writing isn’t your thing on Saturdays, we can discuss memorable love letters in our lives, or in novels.  Or do you have any favorite novels that are written entirely  in letters?

One of my own favorites is Sorcery and Cecila, or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot, by Patricia Wrede and Caroline Stevermer.  It’s one part YA fantasy, one part Regency romance, entirely written in letters, and it is in all ways delightful.  In fact, I enjoy it so much, I’d like to give away one copy to a lucky commenter (print or digital, your choice).

Enter by midnight Pacific, and I’ll announce a winner on Sunday!

Lady B:  Such fond memories! I remember how His Grace used to set me on his knee and say, dearest Heliotrope, my little flower, you are the cleverest little miss in all the world! I often marvel that I was able to find an acceptable husband in Lord B, for nearly any gentleman would have been cast in the shade standing next to my dear father.

Gaelen: I feel the same, Lady B. I may be biased, but I’m quite convinced I have one of the best dads on the earth.

Lady B: As I have always said, our fathers have a vast influence on our future dealings with men. I firmly believe that for good or ill, a gel’s relationship with her sire imprints her mind with a pattern for how she will expect to be treated by gentlemen. She will either look for a man similar to her father—or purposely search for the opposite of him.

Gaelen: That must be why fathers in the romance novels that my fellow lady scribblers and I write are so important to the heroines. Heroines’ mothers are as rare as hen’s teeth in historical romance, but the genre is full of fathers of all kinds, good and bad, and I think it’s because the father-daughter relationship has a direct bearing on the heroine’s attitude toward men.

Lady B: Examples?

Gaelen: But of course! The divine Katharine Ashe has a very interesting father-daughter situation in her upcoming book, How To Be A Proper Lady (going on sale at the end of the month! Woot! See that yummy cover in the upper right corner of this page!) Isn’t that so, Ms. Ashe?

Katharine: Right you are! The heroine in this book has two fathers–one who raised her as his own to the age of ten, although he knew she was not his, and her birth father (now deceased) who took her from her genteel life at age ten and taught her how to be a sailor. She loved her adoptive father deeply, and her uncertain reunion with her aristocratic family is central to the story.

Lady B: That sounds most poignant, and adoptive fathers and father figures also deserve our love. Ah, here is Lady Miranda Neville! What has been your experience in writing about fathers and daughters?

Miranda: Well…it’s hard to find good parents in romance – there’s so much more conflict in bad family situations! That said, the sisters I wrote about, Diana and Minerva, heroines of The Dangerous Viscount and Confessions From An Arranged Marriage had a lovely dad, Mr. Montrose – sweet but eccentric. He loves machinery and keeps a weighing machine in the front hall of his house. Family and visitors are weighed when they arrive and their weights recorded in a book. Needless to say, his daughters do not appreciate this. But Mr. Montrose is very wise, despite his mad inventor exterior, and he knows exactly which guys his daughters should marry.

Gaelen: Psst! Miranda’s cover is on the right, dear Ballroomies!

<Squawk!>

Gaelen: Sorry, Albert, I didn’t see you there… Pardon, Lady B. You were saying?

Lady B: I was just about to ask Ms. Noble, haven’t you’ve written about a rather sad situation concerning a heroine’s father, I believe?

Kate: Yes, my book, The Summer Of You, had an interesting father-daughter dynamic. It’s not particularly happy though, because he has dementia, but it is central to the story.

Gaelen: I like having the heroine’s dad throw some sort of monkey wrench into the romance.

Lady B (with a blank look):  What on earth…? A hand tool that has to do with primates?

Gaelen: Er, no, sorry - just some sort of twist or trouble.

Lady B: Then why didn’t you just say that, daft chit?

<Squawk! Take the poll, ladies! Article continues below! Thank you, Squawk. >

Gaelen:As I started thinking about this subject, naturally, what came to mind was Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice and the lovely father-daughter relationship between Lizzie and Mr. Bennet. (Another favorite father-daughter duo from books/tv was Michael Landon as ”Pa” with “Half Pint” Melissa Gilbert in Little House on the Prarie way back in the day.)

From my own writing, I realized that father-daughter dynamics have been really important throughout my Inferno Club series. The dads in those books run the gamut from hero to zero. In the first book, spy hero Max upon returning from the war chooses Daphne off a list of “perfect bride” profiles that he had his man of business develop for him. He settles on her and what Max wants, Max gets. (My Wicked Marquess) He treats his pursuit of his chosen lady as just another spy mission (he’s clearly been in the field too long, ha ha) and ends up manipulating, intimidating, bribing, and browbeating her father into agreeing to an arranged marriage. Daphne’s father is another scholarly type, well meaning, but meek. It’s left to Daphne to find the backbone to stand up to this domineering alpha male.

In My Dangerous Duke, Kate believes her father has been dead for years, but in truth, Captain Fox had to disappear because of sinister enemies who would’ve used her to get to him. So he faked his own death. Their reunion later in the book when she when she finds out he is alive was a very touching scene to write. The other heroines’ dads range from dysfunctional (the constant fault-finding of of Mara’s parents in My Irresistible Earl) all the way to dad-as-pal, like Emily’s father, the brawny woodsman in My Ruthless Prince.

The one thing that all the dad-and-daughter dynamics seems to have in my books is that the father seems to be the most responsible for turning the heroine into an spunky, independent-minded woman, whether through his  supportiveness, fostering her confidence and inspiring her to be brave, or from neglect or poor parenting, by forcing her to fend for herself.

How do you feel that your dad influenced your relationship with men? – OR – Do you have a favorite memory about your dad that you would like to share?

I’ll go first and say that I think my awesome dad taught me to expect that a man should value me for myself and know when to be protective versus when to challenge me. This ties in to a favorite memory that I think shaped who I am today. My dad is, and always was an outdoor enthusiast. Well, I had just barely learned how to ride my bike as a little kid when he took me on a looong bike ride that turned into a grueling ordeal of endurance and grit!

I don’t think we were lost so much as Dad hadn’t realized that a maze of country roads that were easy for him were a serious marathon for a first/second grader. (Can’t remember exactly how old I was.) But I was not about to cry like a baby in front of my dad, so I just gritted my teeth and kept riding on.

I will never forget how my dad kept encouraging me and no matter how big the hills were in front of us, with nothing but woods for miles around, he taught me to treat it like an adventure. And he never showed any doubt that I could do it, so I just assumed that I could, too. I think there was also a promise of icecream involved, too. Which always helps. *g*  Today, of course, he says, “I can’t believe I made you do that.” LOL, but I think it was good for me.

Here’s to Dads! What a Mom calls crazy or less than sensible, a dad calls fun. :)

I arrive early for today’s ball because I’m not sure what’s happening.  Also, I need inspiration. I find Lady B at her desk with paper, a paintbrush, and paints. Albert, naturally, sits at her shoulder. He is looking at her work in some distress.

Good day, Lady B. What are you doing?

Lady B: Hush, Miranda. I’m emblazoning.

That sounds noisy, and quite possibly painful. Lady B rolls her eyes and ignores me, as she so often does.

<squawk>

Lady B: Lord B’s birthday is coming up and I’ve decided to paint the Beaufetheringstone coat-of-arms for him.

I look over her shoulder and gulp. Er… I daresay it has been some time since you practiced the art of painting in watercolors.

Lady B: If I had ever learned, I should have been a great proficient. But it turns out not to be as easy as it looks.

Perhaps I can help. I have some rudimentary skill in Photoshopping, which is what we call watercolor painting these days.

Lady B. Thank you, Miranda. Let us start with an escutcheon. I need hardly add that the Beaufetheringstone escutcheon has never been blotted.

Fortunately, I also have some rudimentary knowledge of heraldry, so I know she means a shield.

Lady B. Next we need the coronet, to indicate the family rank in the peerage. Lord B, of course, is a mere baron.

Here you are. I think it looks very nice. The bobbles are cute.

Lady B: My father, the duke, has strawberry leaves on his. So much prettier.

 

 

 

 

 

I know the family crest sits on top of the coronet, often an heraldic animal. Which is Lord B’s?

Lady B. I’m surprised you have to ask. A proper popinjay, of course.

I thought a popinjay was a shallow, vain, or conceited person.

Albert flaps his wings and erupts into a flurry of squawks.

Lady B. Miss Neville, your impertinence is exceeded only by your ignorance. The popinjay is the heraldic representation of a parrot.

That’s wonderful, Lady B. [madly searches heraldic clip art]. Here we are. What color?

Lady B. In heraldry the word “proper” denotes the correct color. In the case of a popinjay that is vert, beaked gules, just like darling Albert.

I remember now that heraldry has special words for the colors. Vert is green, straight from the French. Got that. But gules?

Lady B. sighs. Everyone knows gules is red.

All right, then. Green parrot, red beak.

<squawk> ugly popinjay <squawk>

Albert doesn’t like my clip art. Albert, why don’t you hop on top of the coronet instead? What do you think, Lady B?

Lady B. Albert looks very handsome up there,  but he is crushing Lord B’s coronet. Also, I doubt he will stay. I fear the ugly popinjay that you “photoshopped” will have to suffice.

Albert leaves the room in a huff.

A coat-of-arms generally includes a motto, very often in Latin or French. What is Lord B’s, I wonder.

Lady B. Although the family has since dwelt in well-deserved obscurity (until Lord B had the sense to marry me, that is),  Sir Roland de Beaufetheringtone fought at the Battle of Poitiers in 1356. The dynasty nearly came to a premature end when Sir Roland was knocked off his horse and lay at the mercy of a French knight. Luckily, he had charged into battle with his loyal parrot perched on the end of his lance. The valiant bird pecked out the Frenchman’s eye and thus Sir Roland was saved. The Black Prince himself commended the courage of the parrot. Henceforth he was known as Albertus Magnus and Sir Roland adopted the motto “Semper Psittacus.” [gropes for her handkerchief]. Excuse me, Miss Neville. This tale never fails to draw a tear.

Wow. That’s … incredible. Thank you for the touching story, Lady B. I’m glad to know more about the family. I don’t even know who Lord B’s heir is? Is there a second or third cousin, perhaps?

Lady B: That is not your affair.

[aside] I thought it was a matter of public record, but I appear to have struck a nerve here. I’d better get on with the coat-of-arms.

If I remember rightly, a blazon is the verbal description of the shield. Lady B! Tell me the Beaufetheringstone blazon so that I can emblazon it.

 

Lady B: Gules, a winged man rampant sable.

Gules means the background is red. Winged man sounds like an angel. Like this?

Lady B. I said Rampant! Erect!

Oh my God. Surely she doesn’t mean that?

Lady B: Standing up! And, the man needs to be more manly. Also sable, which means black.

Aha! I have the very thing. And just for fun I’ll throw in a peacock blue – sorry, azure – background. How about this?

Lady B: Very good, Miranda. He has excellent legs. Lord B. will be delighted.

There’s one thing missing from the Beaufetheringstone arms. Well two, actually: supporters. In the royal arms, that’s the lion and the unicorn on either side of the shield. What – or whom – would you recommend as supporters for Lord and Lady B’s coat-of-arms?  We definitely do not need to stick to heraldic rules!