Friday, 8 December 2017

Yuletide



As Christmas approaches, I take a look at some Regency customs and food.

Yule was originally the name of a pagan midwinter feast lasting twelve days. Nowadays Yuletide is an old word for Christmas, although the name was still used in Scotland and the North of England in the latter decades of the twentieth century. The festival lends its name to various traditional items.




Yule Log


Most of us are familiar with the 'Yule Log'. Originally, this was an enormous bough of a tree, felled and brought into the house with great care and ceremony – various strictures had to be obeyed, such as handling it with clean hands – and it was lit on Christmas Eve with a fragment of the previous year’s log. It was considered bad luck for it to go out, so it had to be large enough to burn for the Twelve Days of Christmas. It was also considered bad luck for it to be touched by a barefooted woman or a visitor with flat feet! Today, it is more often served in the form of a cake, usually a Swiss Roll covered in chocolate buttercream icing.




Yule Candle


The 'Yule Candle' is one with a garland of winter foliage. It must be large enough to last the whole of Christmas Day or else bad luck will befall.




Yule Dough


'Yule Dough' or 'Yule Cake' was a kind of bread, made from white wheat flour, yeast, lard, brown sugar, currants, egg and sweet spice. This was made in the shape of a baby in many parts of the British Isles. In his ‘Observations on Popular Antiquities’ of 1777, John Brand states, “The Yule-Dough ... a Kind of Baby or little Image of Paste, which our Bakers used formerly to bake at this Season, and present to their Customers.” ‘Oop North’ in Yorkshire, each member of the family was given one.


Yule Dough Mould



A recipe from Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery, 1892


Yorkshire Spice Cake (sometimes called Yule Cake).—These cakes are made in large quantities in Yorkshire families at Christmas time. They are freely offered to strangers and presented to friends, and are frequently eaten with cheese instead of bread.


Put eight pounds of flour into a bowl, and mix a tablespoonful of salt with it; then rub into it a pound and a half of butter, and two pounds of lard. Scoop a hole in the centre of the bread without touching the bottom, and pour in half a pint of fresh sweet brewer's yeast mixed with water. Stir flour into the yeast till it is like batter, sprinkle flour over the top, and set the bowl in a warm place.


When the yeast rises in bubbles through the flour, knead the dough thoroughly as for common bread, and let it rise till it is light. When risen, work in with it six pounds of currants, picked and dried thoroughly, three pounds of raw sugar, some grated nutmeg, and eight well-beaten eggs. Divide it into loaves of various sizes, put these into tins which they will half fill, lined with buttered paper, and bake the cakes in a well-heated oven. The yeast must on no account be bitter. Time to bake the cakes, according to size.


Yule Pudding 


'Yule Pudding' is a custard-style concoction baked in a puff-pastry case like a tart.


Another recipe from Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery, 1892


Yule Pudding.—A quarter of a pound of butter; ten ounces of loaf sugar; the juice of two large lemons, with the rinds grated; one ounce of isinglass—the quantity after dissolved should be a large tea-cupful; and two spoonfuls of fine flour. Put these ingredients into a stew pan, stir over a slow fire, till the preparation nearly boils, then throw it into a basin and stir till almost cold; then add eight eggs, four whites, and half a wine-glass of brandy. A puff' paste is to be put entirely over a dish, and the pudding is to be baked half an hour.




© Heather King



Wednesday, 29 November 2017



The Historical Supper Club

proudly presents

A Regency Christmas Ball


You are cordially invited to attend
this auspicious occasion at
The Historical Supper Club's

Guest Authors, giveaways, articles,
snippets of historical interest,
excerpts and games
All eras are welcome.

THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS
in
TWELVE HOURS

Beginning in the United Kingdom at 7.00pm GMT
Travelling to the United States at 1.00am (8.00pm EDT)
and Concluding in Australasia from about 4pm local time.

Do not miss this opportunity to mingle with characters from a wide range of historical genres!








Saturday, 4 November 2017

The Gunpowder Plot


 

Remember, remember,

The Fifth of November,

Gunpowder, treason and plot.

For I see no reason

Why Gunpowder Treason,

Should ever be forgot.

 

Do you remember this nursery rhyme? In our house, we used to change ‘treason’ on the fifth line to ‘season’ because we just loved Fireworks Night!

Most people will be familiar with the story of the Gunpowder Plot, but where did the celebration come from? At the first sitting of Parliament following the discovery of the plot, in January 1606, an act was passed to commemorate this historic event. The Observance of 5th November Act 1605 ensured that sermons and services would be held annually to remind the general public of the consequences of such a heinous crime (or perhaps to emphasize the power of the establishment.) The torching of bonfires and the ringing of church bells to mark the day each year became tradition soon after Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators were discovered and fireworks were an obvious inclusion to replicate the gunpowder from very early on.

Perhaps the most correct name for the celebration is Guy Fawkes Night, but it is also known as Bonfire Night and, as said above, Fireworks Night.

The origins seem to be lost in history, but it was once the custom for children to make a scarecrow-type figure by stuffing old clothes with straw or paper, either with a hand-drawn face or a mask, to represent Guy Fawkes. The ‘guy’ was then wheeled about in a cart or wheelbarrow with the object of collecting money from generous folk to buy fireworks, toffee and parkin or gingerbread. On 5th November, the guy was ceremoniously burned atop the bonfire.

Perhaps modern children, in these days of organized events, do not know of bonfire toffee and sticky gingerbread, nor yet have held a sparkler, but in this author’s youth, these things, along with sausages and jacket (baked) potatoes eaten around the fire were all part of the fun. A Catherine Wheel, a Roman Candle or two, a snow pyramid and perhaps a single rocket would be the sum total of our fireworks, but they have stayed in the memory. I wonder if today’s indulged youngsters will remember the noisy pyrotechnic displays and mass-produced burgers with the same affection.

Gingerbread

There was a great deal of civil and religious unrest during the seventeenth century. James I brought back and enforced the Act of Uniformity that required Roman Catholics to attend Protestant churches or be fined. Catholics were not allowed to celebrate Mass; going to church on Sunday was compulsory. During a conference at Hampton Court in 1604, an ‘authorized version’ of the Bible was ordered to be drawn up by eminent scholars and divines.

Under the leadership of Robert Catesby and Thomas Percy, a small group of Catholics got together to plan an outrageous counter-attack. If successful, it would blow up the King at the State Opening of Parliament on 5th November 1605. The plotters rented a cellar which lay beneath the House of Lords (it seems incredible now, doesn’t it?) and began storing firewood and barrels of gunpowder there. Guido (Guy) Fawkes had served with the Spanish army in the Netherlands and was both experienced and knowledgeable in the use of explosives.

Plan of Old Palace of Westminster 1793-1823


The original conspirators were Guido Fawkes, Robert Catesby, John Wright, Thomas Wintour (Winter?) and Thomas Percy. Later recruits were Robert Keyes, Thomas Bates, Christopher Wright, John Grant, Robert Wintour (Winter?), Ambrose Rokewood, Everard Digby and Francis Tresham.

The Discovery of The Gunpowder Plot and the Taking of Guy Fawkes, Henry Perronet Briggs, c1823

One of the conspirators (possibly Francis Tresham), concerned that fellow Catholics present in the Lords would perish alongside those who were guilty. He sent a letter to William Parker, 4th Baron Monteagle: Retire yourself into the country… they shall receive a terrible blow this Parliament, and yet they shall not see who hurts them.’ The letter was passed to the authorities and thus, late on the night of 4th November the cellars were searched. Guy Fawkes was arrested while standing guard over his stash of gunpowder and then tortured. He endured hours on the rack, refusing to incriminate his friends. Nevertheless he and his accomplices eventually confessed. On 31st January 1606, having been tried and convicted of treason, Robert Wintour, Thomas Bates, John Grant and Everard Digby were dragged on litters to St. Paul’s Churchyard, where they were hung, drawn and quartered. Since that date, a ritual search of the cellars is conducted annually before the opening of Parliament.
 
Guy Fawkes, along with Thomas Wintour, Robert Keyes and Ambrose Rookwood were executed in Old Palace Yard, Westminster, where Richard I, Coeur de Lion (by Marochetti, 1860) sits his rearing horse and where Sir Walter Raleigh also met, in elegant black velvet and with urbane courage, his own end.

Thomas Wintour (Winter)


Although Catesby and Percy escaped and thus avoided execution, their bodies were exhumed, thence to be decapitated. Their heads were then displayed on spikes before the Houses of Parliament. When Guy Fawkes was captured, the other conspirators fled. Many either had family connections with the present West Midlands or found succour among the Catholics residing in the area.
 
Robert Wintour had been an obvious addition to the plot, since he had inherited Huddington Court, near Worcester, a place known to have hidden priests. Robert Catesby sent a letter via Thomas Bates to Father Henry Garnet and other Jesuit priests hidden by the Throckmorton family at Coughton Court. Stephen Littleton and Robert Wintour were captured at Hagley Hall, home of Humphrey Littleton, the brother of M.P. John Littleton, after a cook became suspicious at the quantity of food supposedly being eaten by his master. Although Humphrey denied the allegations, another servant betrayed the hiding place of the fugitives. Hindlip Hall near Worcester, home of Thomas Habingdon (Addington?), was ransacked by the authorities for four days; two starving Jesuit priests finally gave themselves up.

Hindlip Hall, destroyed by fire 1820

So, however you plan to celebrate Bonfire Night, stay safe and have fun – and spare a moment to remember those persecuted men driven to such desperate measures and, ultimately, such gruesome, cruel deaths.



All images public domain


© Heather King

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

Falling Down A Research Rabbit Hole...




This is something I do on a regular basis. All authors will relate, I am sure – especially historical ones.





You set out with the best of intentions. There are one or two things you need to clarify; a date, perhaps, or some information about a place your characters are visiting, and you type in your keywords accordingly. It is a downward spiral from there.
 

The list of pages comes up. Perhaps what you are looking for is not there. You key in alternatives, scroll down the page... and bingo! Something catches your eye; something which isn't actually connected to your query, but which will be useful to have. Since you know you will never find it again if you don’t look at it now, you investigate... and start reading. Other interesting points are raised; you follow the clues, going off at a tangent, even so far as to download this free book because it has so much information you will be able to use in future novels. Before you know where you are, the morning/afternoon has gone and it is time to feed family/pets/self. Does this sound familiar? I can see you all nodding.


This happened to me in a major way with my latest novel The Missing Duke. You cannot force creativity and I had been struggling to find a good story for the brief, so the deadline was looming with frightening rapidity. I am not a speedy writer; I have to find a word, description, historical detail or plot line before I can continue. The story has to evolve as I write, I cannot just scribble it down and edit later. That is just the way I am and it does mean I don’t have to do as many drafts as some writers. So – I am sure you can see where I am going with this – there I was, with my deadline terrifyingly tight, plus extra hours at the Day Job, and my characters decided to throw me a googly.
 

The hero suddenly needed to travel to Dover. I duly searched for guide books to the town during the Regency. I found a very helpful person had detailed all the hotels and got lost with Alice for days while I sought the landlord of my chosen hotel in 1814, found photos and details of shipping, passports, packet boats (and captains), luggage and authorities for same. Then the pesky hero sent the heroine to Paris. I had not foreseen that! I was delighted to find a book from 1814, detailing travel from Dover to Paris, including descriptions, hotels, money, posting regulations and more. I did not come up for air for at least four days, not least because I kept finding other books detailing Paris at the time of the restoration. Discovering the theatres, cafés, parks and amusements of Paris during the Regency was a total fascination. I found little gems of historical ‘colour’ I just had to include in the story! You will have to read the book to see if they made the final edit.


Copyright Heather King

I had already sourced information on hot air balloons, a main theme of The Missing Duke, but once again, my characters made life difficult. My planned flight across the Channel (with associated queries involving distance, winds etcetera) did not fit in with their lives – or at least not in the way I had envisaged. Oh no. The title character wanted white silk, which would be stained by contemporary fire and waterproofing methods. Off I burrowed again, this time to find possible-for-the-time solutions he could ‘invent’.
 

I do sometimes wonder if I was a mole in another life.





There were dozens of questions I needed answers to for this project, but perhaps one of the most enjoyable diversions was discovering the private garden known as Mousseaux. Nowadays, the Parc Monceau in Paris is open to the public and is popular with families. It is open every day from sunrise to sunset, with longer access in summer. There are play areas, cafés and free wi-fi. Although many of the original features have survived, the park’s atmosphere has subtly changed.
 


It took some digging to ascertain the two names actually applied to the same property and one of my discovered tomes, by Lady Morgan and written in 1817, confirmed my suspicions. It is also mentioned briefly by Edward Planta in 1816. Mousseaux was the garden designed by writer and painter Louis Carrogis Carmontelle for Philippe, Duke of Orleans. The Duke was a friend of George IV and a lover of all things English, so his garden was laid out in the English style, far less formal than the usual design of French gardens. We are familiar with the word parterre from the great country houses of England, the geometric lay-out of flower beds enclosed by low hedges. It should be of no surprise that the word is French.


Le Parc Monceau, Carmontelle

Mousseaux was completed in 1779 and set out with a colonnade of columns bordering an irregular-shaped lily pond, an enchanted grotto, a farmhouse, the Temple of Mars, an Egyptian pyramid, a minaret, statues, a windmill and a vineyard. There was also a ‘Gothic building’ which was used as a laboratory. There was a bridge reminiscent of the one depicted on the so-called ‘Willow Pattern’ china (first produced by Josiah Spode), which crossed a stream and paths intersecting the space. There was even a ‘mountain’ near the centre. Oriental and exotically dressed servants were a feature of the park, along with a small menagerie. Like most such ventures, improvements continued to be made in the ensuing years. A wall was added to the northern boundary in 1787, including a rotunda, called the Pavilion de Chartres. A Doric temple, it was designed by Claude Nicolas Ledoux. It was a Customs-house on the ground floor, while above, an apartment maintained for the Duke enjoyed a view over the garden.


The Duke of Chartres, otherwise styled the Duc D’Orleans was infamous even then. He scandalized and intrigued Society by turns. Secretly, many of the beau monde were titillated by the stories that circulated of the Duke’s wild parties. Lucy, my heroine in The Missing Duke is shocked to discover that his house (the rotunda) was little more than a Greek pavilion. Here is a short excerpt:
 

Here were situated the Gardens of Mousseaux, created by the infamous Duke of Orleans, who had held court over political intrigues and debauched scenes of pleasure, the Duchess of Wardley informed them with a certain relish. Having dismounted from the carriages, the party entered the gardens, which Lucy discovered to be both extensive and laid out with exquisite taste. The house was actually a Greek pavilion, cool and elegant; a classic-styled building at variance with the unchaste tales being bandied about by the gentlemen. She tried not to listen, but really, it was difficult not to overhear, for their voices floated back to the ladies where they walked behind.
The garden, described by one gentleman as ‘Les folies de Chartres’, was designed in the English style, with Gothic ruins, Greek temples and cascades devoid of water. There was an irregular-shaped pool in the centre, with a semicircular colonnade of Corinthian pillars bordering one end. The ladies gasped, for it was most picturesque, with overhanging trees and shrubs surrounding the pond. While the servants laid out the picnic, the Duchess’ guests wandered in small groups along the various promenades, gossiping or discussing matters of the moment.
Not to put too fine a point on it, he liked a good orgy!
By the time of the Regency, the Duke of Orleans had long gone, lost to Madame Guillotine during the Revolution, but his gardens remained, if not quite in their former glory, to be enjoyed by the elite of Paris. Following the restoration of the monarchy, the gardens were restored to the Orleans family, only being purchased by the City of Paris in 1860.

Jardin des Plantes, Gabriel Thouin

I became lost in the shrubbery of two other gardens in Paris, namely the Tuileries and the Jardin des Plantes – the Botanical Gardens to you and me. A pivotal scene between my hero and heroine occurs in the latter, so I once more delved into the joyous pits of plans and maps. I do love historical maps and ground plans of houses, estates and gardens. It all helps to add authenticity to my writing if I can ‘time slip’ my characters into the actual places they are visiting. Imagine, then, my joy when I discovered a delightful titbit in one book which not only allowed my heroine to express concern and pleasure, but in this more enlightened age, to demonstrate that in previous eras caged animals were not always just incarcerated without consideration.
 

Shall I tell you what it is? No, it will spoil the story!



All images public domain unless otherwise stated
© Heather King



 

 

Monday, 11 September 2017

A Jewel in the Herefordshire Crown





Hidden in the folds of the delightful Herefordshire countryside, not far from the village of Yarpole (what a lovely name – look out for that as a character’s surname in a future novel!) lies the gem that is Croft Castle. The Croft family have lived here for nearly 1000 years, although the outer walls of the present house date from the fourteenth or fifteenth centuries. The lovely Susana Ellis came to visit while on her annual pilgrimage to our fair English shores and, along with my boisterous pooch, we enjoyed a wonderful day out.



Main Entrance


There are no ropes at Croft Castle. You can wander from room to room as your fancy takes you and even sit on many of the chairs. Beware the green armchair in the little room adjoining the hall, however… you might not want to get up out of it! As you may imagine, this is an historical author’s dream, especially when she correctly identifies a portrait as being of her chosen era. When said portrait turns out to be of a scion of the house and handsome enough to give her favourite actors a run for their money, then, dear reader, you know you are on a winner.

Thomas Elmsley Croft, 7th Baronet


The village of Yarpole sits beneath the shadowed protection of Croft Ambrey, a settlement and hill fort dating from 390 BC. The Romans constructed Watling Street to the north and then the Normans, having dethroned Edwin, the Saxon Earl, built Croft Castle in the Middle Ages. It was originally a Marcher castle; John, a member of the family – for four hundred years known as ‘de Croft’ – married a daughter of Owen Glyndwr, prince of the Welsh. The family were therefore persons of considerable consequence until their fortunes waned in the eighteenth century. The castle was sold just prior to 1750 but the family made a romantic return in 1923. Although the castle is now owned by the National Trust, the Croft link with the estate lives on.

The castle is in the shape of a squared-off horseshoe, with a tower at each corner and an enclosed courtyard. Until the eighteenth century, it is probable there was a carriage entrance into the courtyard where the main entrance of the house is now. This gateway disappeared when renovations were being carried out to transform the castle into a country mansion.


The Courtyard

It was during this time that the sash windows were added and no doubt some of the interior decorations, such as the rococo ceilings, the painted panels in the Blue Room, the painted bookcases in the library and the wonderful Gothic staircase with its’ stunning plasterwork.

Gothic Staircase

The Oak Room contains seventeenth century panelling and mantelpiece, while the Drawing Room has early eighteenth century panelling. There are dozens of paintings, from family portraits to landscapes and that most flamboyant of kings, George IV. There is a feast of beautiful furniture, much of it Georgian or Regency (or, at least, that is what caught this author’s eye!), as well as porcelain plates, dishes and figurines.

The Library


Porcelain Cabinet

If your interest lies in twentieth century history, then in 2017 the castle has displays reflecting the story of Croft during the First World War.

The grounds are a delight, with a walled garden and a Gothic arch straddling the approach to the castle. Dogs are welcome almost everywhere on a lead. The car park is surrounded by trees, so after a good tramp through the woods or across the park, pooch can sleep safely in the car while his/her humans enjoy the house and the tea-room. Dogs are allowed in one part of the tea-room, which is brilliant on a wet day.

Unlike nearby Berrington Hall, landscaped in the classic eighteenth century style of open vistas to focal points such as follies or sculptured woodland, at Croft there are great avenues of trees which were thriving one hundred years before Capability Brown was born. There are some of the finest oaks in the country here, with trunks of forty feet or more in circumference, as well as an avenue of sweet chestnuts reaching for perhaps half a mile and estimated to be over three centuries old. Susana and I took my dog for a walk through Fish Pool Valley, designed in the ‘picturesque’ style which was to come. It was a delightful walk through the woods, with a gothic pump house set between two of the line of irregular-shaped pools. In days of yore, this would have pumped spring water up to the house.

Of course, no visit to a country estate is complete for this historical author without a tour of the stables. It was doubly pleasing to discover that, while the gift shop and second hand book shop occupy one part of the stables, there is still one block open and it is the original eighteenth century stable, unlike at Berrington, where the horses were moved to occupy part of the steward’s house in the late nineteenth century. Sadly, the original stables at Berrington have long since been lost in the pages of history. While the original building has survived at Croft, Victorian improvements, in the manner of the box fronts, are strongly suspected!

Stables

Stable Yard

Here, you can see the old carriage arches and grooms’ quarters above. Over the stables there is a hay loft.


To return to the owners of Croft: in 1746, following financial reverses after he invested in the South Sea Bubble, Sir Archer Croft, 3rd Baronet, declared bankruptcy and the castle was sold to Richard Knight, son of a wealthy Shropshire ironmaster. He was responsible for ‘gothicizing’ both house and grounds between 1750 and 1760. His nephew, writer Richard Payne Knight, built Downton Castle in Bringewood, Herefordshire, acquired by the Knight family to provide fuel for the smelting furnaces, and was instrumental in the rise of the ‘picturesque’. Richard Knight Jnr. married and had one daughter, Elizabeth, who married Thomas Johnes, MP for Radnorshire from 1777-80. Johnes planted thousands of trees and was responsible for much of the Rococo-Gothic decoration inside the castle. He bought another estate at Hafod, some sixty-five miles away, and filled it with expensive works of art. He eventually bankrupted himself and in the 1780s was forced to sell to Somerset Davies, the MP for Ludlow in 1783. Johnes lived on at Hafod, but the house was all but destroyed by fire in 1807.

Although the title continued, sometimes passed to brothers, younger sons or cousins, the castle passed through various different hands. Three titles were created for the Croft family, the original title for Sir Herbert Croft, the 1st Baronet, who died in 1720. A second, at Cowling Hall in the county of York, was a baronetcy created for John Croft in December 1818, in honour of his services in the Peninsula War. He was descended from a different branch of the Croft Castle dynasty. Finally, a third baronetcy was created at Bournemouth in the county of Southampton for Henry Croft, grandson of the Reverend Richard Croft, of whom more later. One hundred and seventy years on, in 1923, the castle was at last reclaimed by Lady Katherine Croft, wife of the 11th Baronet, James Herbert.

Apart from John named above, other members of the family distinguished themselves. One Sir Richard Croft occupies, with his wife, an early sixteenth century altar tomb in St. Michael’s Church, which sits in golden-roofed splendour a matter of feet from the front entrance of the castle. No excuses for being late to church on Sunday for the Croft family! This Sir Richard captured the youthful Prince of Wales at the Battle of Tewkesbury and also became Treasurer of the King’s Household.

Sir Archer Croft, the 2nd Baronet, was MP for Leominster, Winchelsea and Bere Alston. Rev. Sir Herbert Croft, the 5th Baronet, was an author, best known for Love and Madness, a series of letters relating the desire of one-time soldier Rev. James Hackman for the Earl of Sandwich’s mistress, Martha Ray, who was shot by her paramour in 1779 as she left Covent Garden. Sir Herbert died in Paris in April 1818. The 9th Baronet, Sir Herbert George Denman Croft, represented Herefordshire in the House of Commons.

A second Sir Richard Croft, the 6th Baronet, is perhaps more familiar to the Regency reader, especially devotees of Georgette Heyer. Doctor Richard Croft attended the Princess Charlotte, heir to George IV’s throne, during her pregnancy in 1817. As the history books tell us, although the babe was in a transverse position forceps were not used, being out of favour at that time. After two days of exhausting labour, her body weakened from restricted diet and bleeding (common treatment of the day), Princess Charlotte delivered a stillborn child and then died a few hours later. Many blamed Doctor Croft for his treatment, though not the King or Prince Leopold, the Princess’ husband, who both sent messages of appreciation for Croft’s care. It is likely the good doctor was not at fault, as far as medical science had advanced at that time, and that there was internal haemorrhaging he could not have known about. Nevertheless, the story has become known as the ‘triple obstetric tragedy’, for Doctor Croft never recovered from his grief and remorse. In February 1818, he shot himself.

The handsome Thomas, pictured at the start of this article, was Doctor Croft’s second eldest son. The eldest son, Herbert, died at school (Eton) in 1803. He was ten years old. Born 2nd September1798, Thomas joined the 1st Foot Guards, attaining the rank of Lieutenant, and lost his leg at the Battle of Quatre Bras, still a boy at seventeen. He became a well-known and respected antiquarian and authority on literature, in spite of suffering mental and physical pain. An epileptic, he endured a long illness with fortitude, dying from a convulsion in Hastings when only thirty-seven. He was succeeded by his brother, Archer Denman Croft.

The four eldest children of Dr. Sir Richard Croft by John James Hall
The National Trust, Croft Collection, Croft Castle

L to R Archer Denman Croft, Frances Elizabeth, Herbert (with book) and Thomas Elmsley

Reverend Richard Croft was Thomas and Archer’s younger brother. His grandson, Henry Page Croft, was created Baron Croft in 1940. He was a politician and decorated soldier. Through him the family of Dr. Croft lives on and long may their castle – even if they didn’t actually live there.

The current holder of the title is Sir Owen Glendower Croft, the 14th Baronet, his only son, Thomas Jasper, being the heir-apparent. It is nice to know the name of a Waterloo veteran continues two hundred years after the battle.




All pictures © Heather King unless otherwise stated and may not be reproduced without the express permission of the author.


© Heather King


 

Saturday, 2 September 2017

He Flies Through The Air





I am thrilled to be able to announce that my latest book 'baby' has flown the nest!


The Missing Duke is now available from Amazon as an e-book and will be out in paperback very soon. If you are in Kindle Unlimited, you can read it for free for the next three months.






Blurb


When his father dies, Lord Adam Bateman refuses to succeed to the dukedom which rightly belongs to his missing elder brother. Whilst performing secret and sensitive missions for the Duke of Wellington, he continues his efforts to find his twin. The search has become Adam’s all-consuming passion, leaving no time for affairs of the heart.

Miss Lucy Mercier is also seeking answers. Her father, a tailor, had been used to make hot air balloons for various noble patrons, including Lord Adam’s sire. Believing the deceased Duke of Wardley had been involved in her papa’s failure to return from the Continent, she takes employment in Lord Adam’s household in order to discover the truth. Then she accompanies him on an important commission for the Allied Army, and finds herself having to guard against a growing attraction for a man she knows she can never have.

Are the two disappearances connected and will two heads prove better than one in the pursuit of answers? Will Adam and Lucy find true happiness together or will the past – and their different stations – rise to keep them apart?


 


Sunday, 9 July 2017

Fifteen Fascinating Facts about Hot-Air Balloons





 

***They were not filled with hot air except at first. Smoke was used in early experiments to inflate the balloons but it was soon discovered that they would descend rapidly as soon as the air was used up. Hydrogen gas, which was created by the action of water and sulphuric acid on iron and zinc shavings, then passed through a cask (open at the base) immersed in a copper of water and pumped into the suspended balloon, was found to be easier to replenish.

 

***In August 1783, the first hydrogen balloon was made by Jacques Charles and the Robert brothers. It was made of strips of silk, stitched together and then varnished with a solution of turpentine in which rubber had been dissolved. Alternate strips of red and white, the solution discoloured the white silk to yellow. The balloon was approximately thirteen feet in diameter (thirty-five cubic metres) and able to lift nine kilos. It flew north for three-quarters of an hour before landing twenty-five kilometres away.

 

***The Montgolfier brothers, Joseph and Etienne, are considered the pioneers of balloon flight. On 15 June 1783, they produced a sphere constructed of ‘a covering of cloth lined with paper’ and inflated it with smoke. It then rose into the air and travelled more than 7,000 feet, to the astonishment of their audience at Annonay.

 

***The first ‘passenger’ flight was on 19 September 1783, when the Montgolfier brothers sent aloft a sheep, a duck and a cockerel in their balloon called Aerostat Réveillon.

 

***Foremost British aeronaut, James Sadler, was a pastry cook from Oxford. He had no education, was self-taught and developed his fascination for ballooning behind the family shop, The Lemon Hall Refreshment House. He became a celebrity, feted everywhere. He was invited to perform a balloon ascension in Hyde Park for the Peace Celebrations in July 1814.

 

***The first manned flight in a hot-air balloon was made from the Bois de Boulogne near Paris on 21 November 1783 in a Montgolfier brothers’ balloon. One type of hot-air balloon is called Montgolfière after the brothers.



 


***On 21 October 1783, Jean-Francois Pilâtres des Roziers and the Marquis d’Arlandes made the first free aeronautic voyage from the gardens of La Muette near Paris. Rising to 250 feet, and carried by the wind, they flew over Paris. The balloon was controllable through a smoky fire in an iron basket beneath the balloon, but embers threatened to burn the balloon, so they had to descend before their fuel supply was used up.

 

***A tragic accident occurred on 15 June 1785 when a double balloon manned by Jean-Francois Pilâtres des Roziers and his brother Romain attempted to fly across the English Channel from Boulogne. The gas caught fire, engulfed the balloon, which crashed to earth. Both men died as a result and a memorial was erected on the spot where they fell, near Wimereux.

 

***The Montgolfier brothers’ first balloon lost gas because the pieces of the cover were held together with buttons and button holes.

 

***The first manned flight in a hydrogen balloon in England was made by Vincent Lunardi on 15 September 1784. Ascending from the Artillery Ground in London, he flew twenty-four miles and landed in Hertfordshire.

 

***The first manned ascension (tethered) was from the gardens of the Faubourg St. Antoine on 15 October 1783, in a machine created by the Montgolfier brothers. It was manned by the intrepid Jean-Francois Pilâtres des Roziers, who rose to a height permitted by the eighty-foot ropes for over four minutes. On 19 October, before a crowd of 2000 people, Roziers ascended to a height of 200 feet for six minutes. In a second ascension the same day, he remained eight and a half minutes through having a fire under the balloon.

 

***The first manned flight in a hydrogen balloon was made before thousands of onlookers a few days after Roziers and Arlandes, by Professor Jacques Charles and Nicolas-Louis Robert, from the Jardins des Tuilleries in Paris on 1 December 1783.

 


 

***The first aeronaut to cross the English Channel was Jean-Pierre Blanchard (with American doctor John Jeffries) on 7 January 1785.

 

*** James Sadler’s first manned flight took place on 4th October 1784, at 5.30 in the morning, from Merton Gardens, Oxford. The balloon was blown towards Woodeaton, six miles away, and landed safely having reached a height of 3600 feet. The event was recorded in The Oxford Journal at the time.

 

***James Sadler was the first to use coal gas and also created hydrogen from neat sulphuric acid combined with iron and zinc filings, only he captured it in a quilt.



Images of balloon flights public domain.

Saturday, 8 July 2017

Story Giveaway!



If you sign up for a Readers List of books and authors with Box of Words you will receive a free gift in the form of a copy of my prize-winning short story, The Middle of the Day!



The Middle of the Day

Lottie Morgan loves all things Regency, but would she like to live in the early nineteenth century, married to a baron? A strange thing happens while she is visiting Berrington Hall; she finds herself confronting George, Lord Rodney, and she is a newly-wed!
There is an element of fantasy in this short story, which introduces two secondary characters from An Improper Marriage.

Wednesday, 5 July 2017

The Heart of a Hero



Come To The Ball!


Heart of a Hero Series Release Party





Buff up your bonnets, spruce up your silks and brush up your escort's manners, for on 13 July 2017, from 4pm EDT (that's 9pm in the UK and about 9am or so in Australia) the Heart of a Hero Series begins with the most wonderful Release Party to celebrate the publication of the prequel, No Rest for the Wicked, which sets up the remainder of the series.

When all hope is lost, heroes will rise.


To help them, we have a wonderful collection of Regency authors! This is our line-up for the evening--and what a line-up it is! (All times are EDT.)




What if your favourite superheroes had Regency-era doppelgangers? And what if a group of them were recruited by the Duke of Wellington to gather intelligence for him during the Napoleonic Wars while they protected their own parts of the realm?

You'd get The Heart of a Hero series.

Nine authors are bringing nine full-length novels to you this summer, each telling the story of a man or woman who is a hero in all senses of the word.

Do join us for the crush of the Season!






Thursday, 8 June 2017

Exciting News!



I am thrilled finally to be able to announce my new project, which has just gone up on Amazon for pre-order!


Honoured I am to be able to reveal I am joining a group of wonderful Regency authors in a fantastic series of full-length novels, called the Heart of a Hero Series!

"What if your favourite superheroes had Regency-era doppelgangers? And what if a group of them were recruited by the Duke of Wellington to gather intelligence for him during the Napoleonic Wars while they protected their own parts of the realm?
You'd get The Heart of a Hero series."


The Missing Duke


 


Blurb

When his father dies, Lord Adam Bateman refuses to succeed to the dukedom which rightly belongs to his missing elder brother. Whilst performing secret and sensitive missions for the Duke of Wellington, he continues his efforts to find his twin. The search has become Adam’s all-consuming passion, leaving no time for affairs of the heart. 

Miss Lucy Mercier is also seeking answers. Her father, a tailor, had been used to make hot air balloons for various noble patrons, including Lord Adam’s sire. Believing the deceased Duke of Wardley had been involved in her papa’s failure to return from the Continent, she takes employment in Lord Adam’s household in order to discover the truth. Then she accompanies him on an important commission for the Allied Army, and finds herself having to guard against a growing attraction for a man she knows she can never have. 

Are the two disappearances connected and will two heads prove better than one in the pursuit of answers? Will Adam and Lucy find true happiness together or will the past – and their different stations – rise to keep them apart?





Sunday, 14 May 2017

A Minstrel's Ballad



Lady Penrhyn
Courtesy Wikimedia Commons


THE Minstrel came from beyond the sea,
And weary with his toil was he;
But wearied more, that in one long year
No news of his lady he could hear.
By land and sea he had wander'd far,
With Hope alone for a guiding star;
Yet had he been so tempest lost,
That oft the guiding star was lost.


Safe from the land, safe from the main,
Again he has reached his native Spain;
And he feels of its sun the blessed glow,
And inhales new life, as its breezes blow.
Yet he will not stop, nor he will not stay,
But onward goes, by night and by day;
Till at length he has reach'd that fateful spot,
Ne'er from the parting hour forgot.


There—and he dare no farther go
To seek what he dies, yet dreads, to know;
And he lingers till the moonlight hour,
When that lady lov'd to sing in her bower.
Oh! will this dazzling sun ne'er fade,
This sky ne'er soften into shade;
Longer than all that came before,
Will never this joyless day be o'er:


Faded, at last the sun's red ray
Softened the sky to cloudless gray;
The longest noon must have its night,—
And o'er the bower the moon rose bright.
Roses are wavering in its beam,
As thro' their foliage zephyrs stream;
Perfumes are floating on the air,
But no sweet song is singing there.


He listens—listens—but in vain,
From that low bower there breathes no strain:
“Yet may she come"—for Hope will stay,
Even till her last star fades away.
“Yet may she come”—no more—no more,—
The dreamings of thy heart be o'er:
Who slumbers the long sleep of rest,
Is dull to the voice she once lov'd best.


A ray within the green bower shone,
It danced upon a funeral stone;
There sculptured was a well-known name,
The name most dear—the same—the same!
That night, and o'er lost hope he mourn'd;
But ere again the hour return'd,
Had parted from his native shore
An exile—to return no more.


Yet, as he left that bower of woe,
That all of his constancy might know,
A ringlet of hair on that grave he bound,
A chain of gold round that pillar he wound.


lsabel D.

From The Literary Gazette, January 1818, Public Domain

Friday, 21 April 2017

Tea ~ The Best Drink of the Day





“Tea – the best drink of the day.” Taken from a 1978 advert, this quote echoes this author’s sentiments very nicely. I suspect a large majority of the UK population, and possibly that of America too, fall into one of two camps – tea drinkers or coffee drinkers (unless they are vampires, of course, because Vampires Don’t Drink Coffee!)


Fresh tea


As a nation, the English are traditionally tea drinkers. It is as much a part of our heritage as roast beef, sausages (bangers) and mash and apple pie. The Chinese have drunk tea for centuries, so we were comparatively late to cotton on, but now we have… it is frequently the turn-to beverage for all occasions, whether celebratory (where a glass of bubbly is not feasible!), consoling or re-energising.


In the sixteenth century, Portuguese traders followed by the Dutch, came across tea in the East Indies. An agent in the East India Company, one ‘Mr. Wickham’ (I am smiling as I type) wrote to an officer of the company, a ‘Mr. Eaton’, asking for ‘a pot of the best Chaw’. (Clarissa Dickson-Wright, A History of English Food). I wonder if this is where the expression ‘char’ comes from, to then be appropriated by those sterling purveyors of our favourite British refreshment, the char lady. Tea was inordinately expensive then and in the reign of James I one pound of leaves was sold for anything from £6-£10, which was a lot of money in those times. By the sixteen-fifties, the healthful properties of Chinese tea ‘…called… by other nations Tay, alias Tee,’ became recognized and was advertised for sale at ‘…the Sultaness Head, a coffee house… by the Royal Exchange, London.’ Meanwhile, at the celebrated Garraway’s Coffee House, situated directly opposite the Exchange in ‘Change Alley, Thomas Garraway, ‘…Tobacconist and Seller and Retailer of tea and coffee…’ was quick to extol the benefits of leaf tea in a pamphlet thought to have been printed in 1660. He stocked various qualities of teas, ranging between sixteen and fifty shillings per pound. (The Mirror of Literature, Amusement and Instruction, 1840.)


Chinese teas


Although it would most likely have been plain wood, Thomas Garraway may well have stocked his shop in a manner not dissimilar to this.

Clarissa Dickson-Wright suggests that Catherine of Braganza, wife of Charles II, being familiar with tea in her native Portugal, was instrumental in popularizing our national drink. Clarissa also gives it as her opinion that the custard tarts to be found in Portuguese cafes are of English origin, since London at the time was famous for both custard and custard tarts. However that may be, tea was here to stay.

An English Tea Party, Van Aken
Courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The first tea, popular in Queen Anne’s reign, was Bohea, a black tea from the Wuiy Hills, Fukien province in China. This term came to mean black teas grown elsewhere. Bohea was generally served in a dish rather than a tea-cup. Originally of the finest quality, it is now considered the lowest. It was soon to be superseded by Hyson tea (a kind of Chinese green tea and the same which was dumped in Boston Harbour).


Boston Tea Party, Nathaniel Currier
Courtesy Wikimedia Commons


Due to its popularity, in 1717 Thomas Twining opened a tea-shop for ladies, the first of its kind, since the coffee houses were strictly the domain of the male half of the population. Not to be outdone, Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens opened a tea-garden in 1720. An English institution was truly born and tea drinking became all the rage. Twinings developed the blend of black teas with added oil of bergamot, now known as Earl Grey, and named for Charles Grey, the 2nd Earl, who was Prime Minister from November 1830 to July 1834.




Black, green and fruit teas








The aristocracy demanded beautiful vessels in which to serve this by-now fashionable drink and that led to the development of the renowned English bone china. Pewter had neither elegance nor refinement enough to suit the wealthy beau monde. Josiah Wedgewood (1730 – 1795) and others began to produce beautiful fine porcelain tea services, as well as novelty items – not much changes, when you think about it. Wedgewood even produced a teapot representing the new modish vegetable, the humble cauliflower. Famous manufactories sprang up, in places such as Derby and Worcester.


Worcester porcelain at Hanbury Hall, Author
To begin with, tea was drunk sweetened and without milk. However, therein began a dilemma which continues to this very day. Fine porcelain cracks under the heat of freshly brewed tea and it is possible this led to the discovery that a little milk poured into the cup first (thus cooling the liquid) reduced this occurrence. When the stronger, less refined teas started appearing in the nineteenth century, the addition of milk became ever more popular. Nevertheless, during Georgian and Regency times, tea was still ridiculously expensive. The duty was astronomical, which led to it being an oft-smuggled commodity along with the (perhaps) more familiar brandy, rum, spices, coffee and silks.






Regency Breakfast Tea Caddy, mahogany


Due to this inordinate cost, China tea was kept in a caddy, locked with a key, so the servants could not either drink it or steal it to sell, although it must be remembered that the sale of used tea leaves was one of the perks. Such items as coffee, tea, sugar and spices were kept in a dry storeroom, usually situated off the housekeeper’s room and under her sole charge. Sugar came in large loaves and had to be cut into cubes or ground with a mortar; this was then kept in a covered bowl in a drawer to prevent spoiling by mice. We really do not know we are born nowadays!

Tea, then, was originally drunk at breakfast or in the drawing room after dinner, when a tray was brought in. This also included coffee and various cakes. Afternoon tea was thought to have been started by Anna, Duchess of Bedford, in the early 1800s. She is said to have been prone to ‘a hollow feeling’ midway through the afternoon. One day, therefore, she invited friends to Woburn Abbey at five o’clock, for a meal which included bread and butter, sandwiches, various sweetmeats and small cakes. Continuing through the summer, the engagement proved so well-attended, on her return to Town she sent out cards for ‘tea and a walking the fields’. Meadows still abounded close to the City in those days. The idea took off, was copied by other hostesses and thus ‘tea time’ was established.

Low or Afternoon tea was traditionally taken by the aristocracy at four o’clock, before the fashionable hour for taking the air in Hyde Park. It consisted of sandwiches with the crusts removed, biscuits and cakes. High tea was more substantial and eaten by those lower down the social scale, between five and six pm. It was more like dinner, with additional bread, scones and cake.


All images public domain unless otherwise stated. 

© Heather King