Guest post on childbirth at Austenesque Reviews

I'm over at Austenesque Reviews today with a guest post on childbirth, one of the big themes from A Change of Legacies.

Writing JAFF as a feminist, and a Temporary Mistress excerpt

I've been wanting to expand on something I wrote about a bit in the author's notes of A Change of Legacies, around how Regency women became the property of their husbands, after marrying. This was a sinister theme, in Georgiana's dreams in Legacies, because once she spoke those words at Gretna Green, she became the property of George Wickham, something she was too young to really understand the consequences of until it was too late.

Really, all of the restrictions preventing hasty marriages in England (and therefore requiring couples who wished to elope to hie off to Scotland) were designed to protect men's property: their daughters, who came with dowries and were of best benefit to men if they could be married to make connections with other important families. Darcy is able to seek an annulment for Georgiana's marriage (albeit with complications) because he and Colonel Fitzwilliam had not given their consent to the marriage, and so Wickham has, in essence, stolen their property.

Let's just take a step back and think about that for a moment. Elizabeth is Mr. Darcy's property. Georgiana is Captain Stanton's property.

I hope it never feels that way in my stories, because I have very much endeavored for that to not be the tone of any of my married couples' relationships. But it was the reality, and part of the reason I wished to include Georgiana's dream storyline was to show that reality. When a woman accepted a marriage proposal, she was in essence giving herself over to a man for life, and if she chose badly, she would ruin her life.

As much as I love the Regency era, I am also a pretty staunch feminist, and it's sometimes difficult to square that with writing about women who are in this situation. All I can really do is write them in marriages where their husbands respect them, listen to their opinions, and do not treat them like property.

Elizabeth and Darcy are the best example of this -- they get up to arguments and misunderstandings with relative frequency, and Elizabeth is always allowed to spar her corner. Never, ever, will Darcy simply overrule her and determine she doesn't have a say, because he is the man. He fell in love with this woman's lively mind, and while she may occasionally frustrate him, he always respects that mind. Even that he puts up with her calling him "Darcy," after his initial protest in the Constant Love series, indicates a certain respect towards her: he allows her to call him what his male friends do, putting her on equal footing with them.

These themes have come through, I think, even more strongly in Temporary Mistress, my little (okay, possibly not so little anymore -- it's reached novel-length) side project. I shared the prologue of the working draft back when it first ate my brain, and thought I would share an excerpt very relevant to this particular topic. If it's been awhile since you read the prologue excerpt, recall that Elizabeth is now widowed and the heiress of Longbourn, following an unhappy marriage of necessity to Mr. Collins:

Although Mrs. Bingley had provided an excellent meal, Darcy could hardly eat, in his present state of excitement. Elizabeth – glorious Elizabeth! – was just up the table from where he sat, amongst the unmarried ladies and gentlemen. She was there and looked as lovely as ever, in the palest lavender dress, laughing and conversing with those beside her. He had wondered, upon learning she was once again a possibility due to Mr. Collins’s untimely demise, if he had spent the past few years making her more wonderful in his mind than she truly was, maintaining a love for an imagined Elizabeth rather than the real one. But she was every bit as he had remembered her, and he believed he loved the real Elizabeth even more, for there were details and nuances to her that he had forgotten.

Oh, those torturous early days, after reading of Mr. Collins’s decease. How he had longed to go to her, to declare himself. It had been Georgiana who had counseled patience, after he had opened up his heart to her. Georgiana, who had regained her confidence and her happiness, who was mature enough to be giving him advice, now. Nothing should be done while Mrs. Collins was in mourning, except to send a letter of condolence. He had hoped, perhaps, that his letter might become the beginning of a correspondence between them, but her response, while polite, had left him no opening; there was nothing within that could be responded to.

So he had waited, and tried to determine some natural way in which he could be returned to her acquaintance. In that, his encountering Charles at White’s, and making his apology and the first overtures of renewing their friendship, had been the deepest blessing. Their friendship was not what it once had been; it had been renewed with caution, and still felt a delicate, awkward thing. Yet it had been renewed, and Darcy was grateful for it, even beyond its providing the opportunity for him to be here. How impatient he had been in Gibraltar, upon receiving Charles’s invitation to the house party at Netherfield. Of all things, to be kept from his second chance by war!

But he was there, now, and he would seize his second chance, although he would keep Georgiana’s counsel and go about things patiently. In his last visit to Netherfield, he had not done anything to indicate his affections; he would do so now, gradually, and seek to understand her own. She was a widow, and he could not yet know what the state of her heart was; perhaps she had come to love Mr. Collins. Elizabeth glanced down the table at him, and he smiled. She returned the smile, and even this simple thing gave him hope.

Darcy made an attempt to apply himself to the food, so as not to be caught looking at her too often. When next he did look in her direction, he found her frowning, and wondered at what could have caused this. She did not look at him, this time, and eventually he returned his attention to his neighbors at the table, and to his food.

Too soon, the ladies made their exit for the drawing-room, although at least this gave him a better look at her figure as she left, and he found it every bit as pleasing as it ever was. He was not the only man there who found Mrs. Collins pleasing, however; he soon learned. Mr. Althorpe was most vocal in his praise of the young widow’s looks, but he received much agreement from the other single gentlemen, and for the first time Darcy realised that he might well have competition for her hand, a thought that filled him momentarily with paralysing fear.

“She ought to marry soon,” Mr. Althorpe was saying. “A woman, trying to manage that estate on her own – she’ll run it down in no time. It wants a man’s management.”

“She seems to have done well enough with it in the last year,” Darcy said, with his heart pounding, for he detested confrontation, particularly with new acquaintances.

“I am sure that is only because she kept with whatever procedures her husband implemented. It will be once she starts getting womanish ideas in her head, and acting upon them. That will be when she destroys her own income. Unless, of course, she marries me.”

This prompted laughter from all the men around him, save Darcy, and he wished Charles was seated closer to him, for certainly Bingley would have assisted in the defense of his sister, if he had overheard Althorpe.

“And where is your estate, Mr. Althorpe?” Darcy asked, knowing it was not likely Mr. Althorpe, the younger son of a viscount, would have one, and it was very possible he never would.

“Haven’t inherited it yet,” Mr. Althorpe said, pouring himself more brandy. “Fine little property, from my mother’s side of the family, but it would be preferable to have Longbourn while I wait, particularly when it comes with such a fine-looking wife to warm my bed.”

“Might it not be said, then, that Mrs. Collins has more experience in running an estate than you?”

The men laughed again at this, one of them saying that Darcy had Althorpe there, and thankfully the subject moved away from Mrs. Collins following this. From the occasional glares Darcy received from Mr. Althorpe, however, he felt quite certain he had just made himself an enemy. Yet he was glad he had done it, even if he had been discomfited by it; he did not like the thought of Elizabeth being spoken of in such a manner.

It was a relief, when the butler came to tell them that tea was ready in the drawing-room, but Mr. Althorpe, being nearer the door than Darcy, made his way thither more quickly, and Mrs. Collins was his object. Darcy watched, fuming, at the man’s making every effort to render himself agreeable to the woman he had demeaned earlier. To his surprise, however, Darcy was rewarded not five minutes later, when he watched Elizabeth disengage herself from the conversation, and make her way over to where he stood.

“If you are at leisure, Mr. Darcy, I wonder if I might hear from you about Gibraltar now,” she said, quietly.

“Of course,” he said, trying to quell his feelings of delight and triumph so that they would not reach his countenance. He led her over to an open sofa, and then proceeded to provide her with any details of the town he could remember, and stories of the voyages there and back. His delight continued as she showed herself fully engaged in all he spoke of, nodding at his descriptions and asking questions to glean further details.

“Oh, I have entirely monopolised your time!” she exclaimed, when it became clear that some of those who were not staying at the house were calling for their carriages.

You may monopolise my time forever, Elizabeth! he wanted to say, but did not.

“Not at all, Mrs. Collins. In fact, I thought to offer more of my time, if you wish it, to come and look at Longbourn’s books – to offer my advice on the estate.” He did not know if she would take this offer, or even if she thought of herself as needing advice, but he did wish to offer his assistance, and this was the thing he was best suited to assisting her in.

“Oh, yes, because a woman cannot run an estate! Surely I must require your advice,” she said, furiously.

A sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. Were his chances already ruined?

“Of course not. Someone so clever as you should have no difficulty in running an estate,” he said, softly. “I – I know what it is to be given such a responsibility at a young age, and at least in my own case, I did not have anyone to turn to, that I could ask for advice. I had always relied on my father for guidance, and when he was gone, I found I suddenly had his responsibilities, and no longer the benefit of his counsel. I only meant that if you desired my advice, or simply wished for someone to talk over matters with, I would be pleased to give any assistance that I may. I apologise – I never meant to demean you.”

“It is I who should apologise,” said she. “Your offer was very kindly meant, and I am sorry that I spoke so sharply to you. Mr. Althorpe said something to me during dinner, and I suppose I am still a little sensitive over it.”

He found himself relieved, both that they were returned to understanding each other, and that Mr. Althorpe had already revealed his true self to her.

“Pray do not worry yourself over it, Mrs. Collins. It cannot be easy, to be in your position.”

She nodded. “I would like your advice, Mr. Darcy, if you are still willing to give it.”

Stradbroke Castle, Part 2

There were two posts I made last year while I was posting A Change of Legacies online that are still quite relevant to the published story:

• The Gentleman Farmer

• Stradbroke Castle, Part 1

I had, obviously, written the second one intending to have a part 2, but decided to hold on it until the book was published, so as not to spoil any more. So here, finally, is that part 2.

In part 1, I wrote about how the inspiration for Stradbroke came from both Skipton Castle and the timber-frame Speke Hall. As I was doing the edits for Legacies, however, I was eventually overcome by the nagging thought that an earl would likely have not built a timber-frame house to be attached to his castle, even if his family's political clout was already falling at that time. Skipton has a stone Tudor-era addition, but I did want Stradbroke to feel a bit more mismatched, so I decided to go with the comparably new building material for the time: brick.

Brick was a material that would have been considered less fashionable by the time of the Regency, but during the Tudor era, it was used for palaces, like Hampton Court and Hatfield, which also makes an appearance in Legacies.

The remaining portion of the old palace at Hatfield.

The interiors are still inspired by Speke Hall, however, and the castle still remains very much based on Skipton, so I thought I would post some more photos of its remarkably intact interior. These are the sorts of spaces Lady Ellen would have been reclaiming as living space, now that the old castle is actually the more fashionable, romantic space.

I adore this courtyard. It feels cool and pristine, now, but I imagine when the castle was in its heyday, it was bustling with people, and possibly animals.

The great hall is rather spartan compared to that at Speke Hall, below.

Speke Hall's great hall, with a quite epic fireplace.

One of the rooms in Skipton Castle.

As the room above shows, it would have been quite a task to convert over the rooms of the castle to livable spaces, which is presumably why Lady Ellen did not begin on this project earlier. The stone walls would need to be plastered, and more Georgian-style windows cut into the openings (this one is slightly larger than some of the others in the castle, but still not good for much beyond arrows or perhaps dropping boiling oil on someone).

In her observation of the room, Georgiana comments on the fireplace, and this is one thing Lady Ellen did not change. I think of Lady Ellen as having excellent taste; she decorated as we would today, adding some mod-cons, but still letting some of the character of the room's age show through. This medieval fireplace would have been designed for burning wood, while Georgian era fires were generally coal, burned in a little grate like the one shown from Saltram, below.

One of the fireplaces at Saltram.

Just looking at these three fireplaces, you can see a real evolution in interior design across the eras that Skipton, Speke, and Saltram represent. From medieval practicality to Tudor and Jacobean ostentation to Georgian refinement, they show the struggle Lady Ellen is up against in attempting to update Stradbroke, when Saltram's beautiful delicacy is the ideal she is attempting to meet.

There is hope, however. In the updated drawing room from Speke Hall that I showed in part 1, you can see a very fine Georgian fireplace!

The drawing room at Speke Hall.

When characters attack

The nice thing about A Change of Legacies finally being published is that now I can blog about things I've been wanting to blog about for some time. So be warned: this will be a spoiler-full zone for at least a few posts...

This is the thing I was most excited to share, because it was such a strange phenomenon to me, I almost couldn't believe it was happening. I think everyone assumes I have complete control over my stories and characters at all times, but that is not actually the case. Not even close.

I had plans for Legacies. Edward (Colonel Fitzwilliam) and Anne de Bourgh were going to get married and then things were going to happen. I'm not going to say what things, because I'm going to reuse them for Anne, later, albeit not in the manner I expected I was going to, with her as Edward's wife.

No, instead of these two getting together like they were supposed to do, I had Georgiana and Captain Stanton call on Marguerite Durand, the widow of the captain of the Polonais, while they were in Paris. It was meant to be an anecdote, showing how naval captains looked after the wives of their enemy counterparts (war was about as genteel as war could possibly get during this time). Then Marguerite got beautiful, to activate Georgiana's jealousy and insecurity (she and Captain Stanton are pretty much perpetually insecure of each other's love, but rather than make me want to slap them both upside the head, this only makes me love them more as characters; I'm not sure why this is, but it is).

The book came out so long, Marguerite Durand would likely have been cut, had she remained an anecdote. However, at some point during the planning, basically the following occurred, in my head:

Colonel Fitzwilliam: [strides into well-appointed Parisian hotel] Hey, did someone say smokin' hot French widow?

Sophie: Get out of here! What are you doing here?

Col. F.: Isn't it obvious? You wrote a beautiful French widow. Were you just going to leave her here in Paris, all alone?

Sophie: Well, yes. She's an anecdote. She's only meant to characterize Matthew as a naval captain.

Col. F.: You know what would be better than her being an anecdote? Her having a romance with me.

Sophie: You're meant to marry Anne de Bourgh.

Col. F.: Wouldn't be more interesting if I DIDN'T marry Anne de Bourgh? Think of all the potential! Lady Cat will be livid, you'll get to write more grammatically incorrect dialogue, Captain Stanton will be terminally guilty.

Sophie: But I have plans, for you and Anne de Bourgh. And writing Marguerite's dialogue is actually pretty difficult.

Col. F.: You took my arm, at Waterloo. You owe me. Suck it up and write more dialogue. She'll call me mon chéri -- I've always wanted to have a woman call me that, and then make sweet, sweet --

Sophie: Hey, hey, slow down there, soldier. You should be glad you're still alive. I could have killed you off, at Waterloo.

Col. F.: No you couldn't. Readers like me too much. I bet they'd much rather see me marry the beautiful Frenchwoman.

Sophie:  I see your point, but if I do this, you're going to have to decide you love her so much that you're willing to live on very little, for the son of an earl.

Col. F.: Yeah, you just keep thinking that, if it makes you feel better. I'm going to make you add another twist, eventually.

Sophie: I won't cave.

Col. F.: Yeah you will. I'm going to twist your arm. You can't twist my arm, because YOU TOOK IT AT WATERLOO. Remember that? Remember how I only have one arm?

Sophie: Okay, okay, I give up!

So the story changed. Fairly substantially, and probably for the better. But it still shocked me a little, that my characters just decided to do what they would do.

This will no more apparent than at the end of Legacies. The whole big Stanton family blow-up was not actually planned. I outline my longer stories before I write them, and all I had in the outline was that Richard Stanton treated Georgiana and Matthew coldly. When I started writing the portion, I decided he should say something insensitive to Georgiana about the baby, which seemed pretty in character for him, and everything else just snowballed from there, starting with Matthew deciding to cut his father's acquaintance. When it all started happening, I just went with it, and I think the resulting bit ended up making Mary's arc, in particular, much stronger. But it wasn't planned.

A bit of the Legacies outline

I'm not sure what to make of all of this. But it has certainly been a lesson, that when I attempt to fully imagine characters, they will do what makes the most sense for them given their situation, and I had better hope that was what I had planned for them, or be prepared to go along for the ride!

Guest post on minor characters

Nothing new here today, but I'm prepping a post called "When characters attack" that I've been wanting to write for a very long time, but didn't want to post until after A Change of Legacies was out as it's very spoilery.

What I do have today, though, is a guest post over at Babblings of a Bookworm, on the minor characters from Pride and Prejudice that I've developed more thoroughly in the series -- Georgiana (with a smidgen of Lydia), Catherine, and Mary.