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ballroomtuilarisIt’s always tough to figure out where to start a story–and I find a lot of this applies to the setting for the story. Some settings automatically suggest themselves. The opening of Lady Scandal seemed automatic–if an English lady is fleeing from Paris when the peace of 1803 breaks down, the story is going to open in Paris. For the follow up book, Lady Chance, the setting wasn’t so obvious.

Lady Chance takes up Diana’s story–she was a secondary character in Lady Scandal, and she met a French captain and they sparked. But in taking up Diana’s story, the question was when would she have a chance to meet up and have a happy ending with her captain?

With England and France at war from 1803 to 1814, that’s a long time. Would Diana meet her captain when he was a prisoner of war in England? Or what about meeting during the Peninsular war in Spain? Could there be any good outcome in either of those situations, and did I want to get into Spain and the problems there–particularly with things going badly for the French army.

I did have some scenes I wrote, with the idea of Diana and her captain meeting up after the battle of Vitoria–there was a thought of having some fun chasing after the Spanish treasure that went missing. However, those scene stalled out early on. The setting was fun…but it wasn’t really working. Which led me back to Paris.

paris_russiansParis in 1814 was a lot of excitement–and fun. It was a city overrun by armies, and by the English arriving, and the possibilities seemed vast for any story. There was also the glitter factor–let’s face it, slogging around the muddy Spanish countryside or being able to use the settings of Paris left me wanting to write about Paris.

Now, I’ve never been a huge fan of Paris, but then I visited–I won a trip there, which is another story–and fell in love. Paris isn’t just a city of light, it’s a city dense in history–it escaped the destruction of many wars, and you can turn a corner and see how a street looked exactly in 1814. Paris loves its museums–and the art, oh, the art! And since Paris only made a brief appearance in Lady Scandal, with Lady Chance I’d have time to dive into more of the city–the old gates, the houses, the cafes, the gaming salons and the shops. The setting proved to be as much fun as the story.

I’m thinking ahead to the next book in the series–Lady Lost–and I think Paris will again be part of the story. There’s even more to dive into with that setting. But we’ll see if we take up with Napoleon’s hundred days, or just after Waterloo, for both times are again rife with plots and schemes, and plenty of great dramatic material.

Lady Chance 01_smREAD AN EXCERPT FROM LADY CHANCE

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“That is a deathtrap! An explosion waiting to go off!” Diana put her hands on her hips.

Taliaris turned with a startled glance. “What? Where is the girl who once traveled with Gypsies? Who rode a donkey cart? Who did not seem to mind anything that was a new experience?”

“She, thankfully, had her adventures and learned to set idiotic notions aside.” She let her hands fall. With a shiver, she pulled her cloak tighter. “I did not think you knew about the cart.”

“Oh, we followed you and your aunt most diligently—from Paris to the coast. A pretty girl is always remembered.”

Diana gave a huff. “Flattery will not get me into that.” She gestured to the boat moored at the riverside quay. It was not a large ship, perhaps thirty feet from bow to stern, but steam puffed from the back where a boxed engine of some sort squatted. Metal gleamed in the moonlight, and a soft, chugging sound came from the boat . She gave a sniff and asked, “Why can you not have stout watermen to row us?”

Taliaris stepped from the quay and into the steam ship. It swayed but did not sink—not a point it its favor, Diana decided. He held out a hand for her. “I have already paid for our tour. And the Seine is the best way to see Paris. Besides, we are not stepping into an untested invention. In France, we have had steam in use for years. You English will soon be wanting nothing but its more reliable power.”

She grimaced. “Rely upon it to explode, you mean. I read about just such a contraption tried upon rails in London years ago which ended in disaster due to too much power trapped in too small a space.” She tried to stand her ground, but since he kept his hand out, his eyebrows arched and his expression expectant, Diana could see no options. Oh, she could abandon the evening with him, but that was not a choice. Jules wanted her close to Taliaris. She gave another sniff and she put her hand in his.

He didn’t wait for more. Putting his arm around her, he swept her into the steam ship. She gave a squeak and closed her eyes tight, clutching at him, her heart beating quick and expecting… Well, she had not expected him to be so strong. Taliaris set her down, but she was reluctant to let go. She like his scent, how it clung to her. She liked how she felt in his arms—sheltered, an unusual sensation for her. The boat rocked under her feet, and water lapped gently against the stone quay. The scent of water—and burning coal—gave a tart tang to the air, mixing with the spice from Taliaris. She opened her eyes and peered around Taliaris’ broad form to where the steam engine puffed and hissed.

“The devil’s own noise. How can this be the best of anything?” Still gripping his arm, she glanced up at him and asked with a small amount of hopeful pleading, “Are you quite certain you do not have watermen?”

A smile twisted up Taliaris’ mouth. He pulled away from her hands and left her. “Abandoned already,” she muttered, shivering a little under her cloak. She swayed again as the boat bobbed. Sitting down before she fell down seemed a wise idea, so she did. The wooden bench was only a little damp, and she had her cloak and gloves to save her gown from ruin and her skin from the worst of it. She turned to look back at the stern.

Taliaris stood talking to the three sailors who obviously managed the boat—rough fellows all of them, with dark hair and eager eyes once Taliaris produced a coin purse and coins coming out of it. One sailor scrambled to cast off the moorings, another headed to the belching engine, and the ship turned its bow into the river. Diana gripped the edge of the bench and bit down on another panicked squeak. She began to honestly think this was a devilish invention, and Taliaris a beast for bringing her onto it. Was he testing her? Trying to terrify her? Or simply inured to danger from too many years of battles?

Easily making his way to her, Taliaris took her hand and pulled her to her feet. A brazen thing to do, she thought. He ought to wait for her to offer her hand, but then she had already quite made up her mind he was utterly and refreshingly lacking in the qualities of a gentleman. He guided her to the bow and settled her on seats with cushions. That was an improvement. The boat chugged along with a not unpleasant, rhythmic sound. She lifted her face into the breeze. Spray from the water touched her cheeks, but she preferred that to the faint, oily smell that came off the engine.

Stretching out on the seat next to her, Taliaris began to talk about the steam power that was become so popular. “Andre Dufour—a man I know—it is his cousin who owns the Mirabelle. He built her two years ago and she has had no accidents.”

“Yet, you mean.” She threw out the words with a challenge and glanced over her shoulder to the white steam, winding its way up from a funnel. “At least it also provides warmth—a pleasant thing on a night, but what of a hot summer day?”

“You are determined to see nothing but bad in this.”

“And you are an optimist when it comes to new contraptions. I did not expect that of you.”

“You think a man who fights knows only how to fight? That was not the example set by the Emperor. Innovation. That is the key to win battles in these years. To build nations. The Emperor sought to make Paris—to make France—first among all.”

Diana locked her hands around one knee and leaned against the back of the bench. She tipped her head to the side. Might as well dig a little to see if she could pull out information that Jules would find useful. “You still admire Bonaparte even though he is now banished to a small island?” she asked.

“Politicians gave him up. He would have fought for France still, would have defended Paris. I know he wrote to the Convention to tell them so. I had friends on his staff, but the cowards in Paris…” Shaking his head, he let the words trail off. His mouth had pulled down, and she could sense the impatience flowing off him. He obviously did not care much for politicians.

“But what?” she prompted.

He glanced at her, his eyes dark and unreadable in this dim light. Shadows danced over his face, easing the lines the years had put on him, but showing the hard edges he had acquired. “This is not a night to speak of sad things. You wished to see Paris, did you not? Let us see what is good and right before us.” He swept out a hand, and Diana turned to stare at the city. Perhaps that was better—safer. For that old tug of attraction to him still pulled on her. She drew in a sharp breath and stared at Paris.

Music floated to the river from nearby great houses, and illuminations for the new king still flickered on some of the buildings. Taliaris gestured to the lights. “Candles or carbonic gas is lit within transparencies affixed to the windows. Would you call that a danger, too? Another unsafe invention?”

Diana slipped a sideways glance at Taliaris. She found him watching her, his arm slung across the back of the bench behind her. If she shifted an inch, his fingers would touch her shoulders. She stayed still. She was not quite certain she wanted to forget anything between them—not the bad, or the good. “Tell me more of what innovations you would have. Would you back them with your own investment?” And do you need funds from others for that—would that tempt you onto the wrong path?

He gave a snort that might have been a laugh. “My family will be lucky enough to keep our lands, I think. But others will come out of these times with titles to their names and money in their pockets.” She could not see his face, but he sounded tired and a little frustrated.

“Oh, do not be so surly.” She waved a gloved hand at him, brushing off his tone and his words. “Bonaparte restored titles and lands to those he favored and those who kept him in power. Do not chide your new king for planning to do the same.”

“Spoken like a true daughter of a monarchy.”

She stiffened. His words held a harsh bite, and she found she resented them being thrown at her—by him of all people, a…a mere soldier. “Your last king would have done better if he had acted with far harsher measures when his troubles first began. He might have kept his head, or at the very least saved his wife and son and prevented his daughter’s suffering!” She bit off the rest of it. She was saying more than she should—and she was here to pull words from him. Instead, she was flinging opinions at him. That would get her nowhere.

But it seemed it had.

Taliaris’ mouth curved in an inviting and warm smile—he looked honestly amused and some of the tension in him seemed to ease.

Overhead, stars glittered bright, splashed across the sky in lush abandon. The moon glimmered pale on the eastern horizon like a fat bowl tonight. It seemed a night for the romantic—for forgetting the past perhaps.

Taliaris’ voice dropped to a low murmur near her ear and his breath brushed her skin. “Meaning he should have sent those who talked revolution to prison, as does your king and your princely regent? I have heard you like to tout how free you are, you English. But I also read of how you treat those who print complaints—anyone who speaks or writes that kings are a thing of the past is soon locked away. Your England fears any real freedom.”

“And it worked so well to have a Committee for Public Safety instead—to behead anyone who dared speak against your glorious Revolution, to call everyone citizen even when more than a few were using that as an excuse to gain enormous power. When you killed your king and queen you invited a war upon France and paved the way for a dictator. What sort of freedom is that?” Skin hot and pulse quickening, Diana threw her hands wide. Taliaris gave a short laugh, and she glared at him. “You think it amusing for a woman to express her views? Of all the patronizing and—”

“Hush.” He put a finger to her lips. “I think you sound a woman who bottles what she thinks up far too much, so it comes all out in a burst. Tell me, do your Englishmen not want to listen to you speak of politics?”

Diana pressed her lips tight—they tingled slightly from his touch. Taliaris did not wear gloves and his skin had been warm, his finger slightly calloused. She sank back upon the bench. Just who was pulling words out of whom this evening? Her shoulders brushed against Taliaris’ hand, but she had her cloak between her skin and his touch. She did not move away. It was too chilly an evening, she told herself, and then danced away from that lie.

Settling back into a flippant tone, she told him, “First off, they are not all my Englishmen—well, one was, and yes, he did listen, but I do not think he particularly cared. Chauncey was not the least political.”

“And second?”

She gave a wave of her hand. Let us get back to trying to know what you think and plot—or if you plot anything, she told herself. “There is no second. Do Frenchwomen not speak their minds? I had heard your emperor did not much care for intellectual women, or so Madam de Stale has told the world.”

“I speak of the women of the Revolution. They fought for freedom. Or they tried. My mother was one of those who embraced the principals—liberty, equality, fraternity. She held those to be everyone’s rights, rich or poor, titled or not.”

Ah, now we get to someplace interesting. She tipped her head to the side. It seemed that he came from a family of revolutionaries. Her parents would have been horrified if she had ever brought him home—her father had been a staunch Tory from a family of even stauncher Tories. She only said, “I cannot think that gained her much. It is far easier to join one group by hating another.”

“That sounds as if you have experience of such a thing.”

She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. Why not trade him something of her past in the hopes he would say more—so far he’d been maddeningly vague, meaning either he was very good at keeping his secrets or he had none to share. She glanced at him and said, her voice light with scorn, “Politics are everything when it comes to angling for a marriage during the London season. One learns the art of compromise, the ability to negotiate under pressure, and the value of hiding one’s true desires in order to advance one’s long-term goals. And, of course, family must be put first.”

“So the individual is sacrificed? What you want does not matter? And there is no such thing as equality.”

She gave a laugh at such an idea—equality within the London marriage mart, where wealth and beauty mattered most? Absurd! “Not much fraternity, either, not amongst too many ladies with too few eligible gentlemen. I hold France to blame for that.” She drew off one glove and tapped a finger on his arm where the gold braid and buttons of his uniform glinted in the light from the illuminations on the river’s shores. “How can any young man resist the lure of a dashing uniform? You should know about that. It left London’s ballrooms—and most of the bedrooms—frightfully empty.”

“Yours was not.” He threw out the words in a flat tone, and she could not tell if he was mocking her or not.

She turned away and folded her hands in her lap. This was not a direction she wanted to take in any conversation. “That is an assumption.”

His voice dropped so low that she barely heard it over the thump of the steam engine. “Do you say your husband did not love you? He did not want you?”

Lips pressed tight, she glanced back at the engine and the shallow wake arrowing out behind the ship. Traces left behind them—that all they had now, an imprint from the past that faded almost as soon as it had been made. She was done with this line of questing—Jules would have to wait to find out if Taliaris wanted his emperor back or not. Although she was starting to think he was as little a political animal as she.

“Do we turn around now?” she asked and forced a bright tone into her voice. “I think I have seen enough of Paris by night. I think it must be prettier during the day. At least now that spring is come perhaps some flowers may bloom. But it has grown chilly.”

“No.” He took her chin in his hand, his fingers gentle, but his touch still forced her to face him. “You do not get to evade my questions.”

Regency Triva

mealI’m going to be teaching a workshop in June on Regency Food and Seasons because when you write historical romances you tend to end up knowing a lot of odd things. And I love this kind of trivia.

For example, sugar used to come in cones–you’d scrape off what you needed. And recipes usually did not have measures–a goodly handful is often give as amount to use.

Or did you know tea used to be locked up in lovely tea boxes for the tea leaves were far too valuable to leave lying about.Enameled tea box

Or that in the early 1800’s Nicholas Appert won 12,000 francs when he invented a method to preserve food in glass–Napoleon had wanted this for as a means to better preserve food for the French Army. However, this method was not widely used, and canning would not come about until well after the Regency.

Food preservation, however, is ancient, with the more common techniques being salting and smoking, or the use of vinegar to pickle food.

It amazes me, too, how modern folks often don’t think about an era when food was not always available. I garden so I’m always looking forward to my seasonal produce–but what you can grow in England during its seasons is a different world from California or New Mexico where I now live.

Food tastes, too, are quite different.

Captain Gronow remarked on how London Inns always served “‘the eternal joints, or beef-steaks, the boiled fowl with oyster sauce, and an apple tart.'” Hmmm…maybe that’s not too different from modern London pub grub. The English at one point used to eat a lot of lamb (and mutton), too.

For Leg of Mutton, Mrs. Rundell’s recommendation is, “If roasted, serve with onion or currant-jelly sauce; if boiled, with caper-sauce and vegetables.” Personally, I would swap in lamb for the mutton and opt for roasting it. My grandmother who came from Yorkshire insisted on boiling all meat, and nearly made vegetarians out of all of her sons.

hannahGBut I also love digging out bits and pieces such as a “recipt against the plague” given by Hanna Glasse in The Art of Cookery made Plain and Easy. She also offers not one, but two certain cures for the “bite of a mad dog, one of which is both given to the “man or beast” bitten as well as recommending to be bound into the wound. Makes you wonder how big of a problem were mad dogs? Perhaps a large one given that there were no rabies shots.

Back in the 1800’s the day had a different pace to it–lunch was not a common meal, and you have servants for almost all classes except the poor. This makes for a lot of advice coming out in the mid 1800’s for how to deal with servants–one of those lovely problems we all wish we had. Oh, to have to supervise the house maid and oversee the cook instead of having to do for oneself.

All of this makes for a lovely bit of trivia to share.

 

 

Horse Sense for You Charactes

akhal-teke1I’m doing my “Horse Sense for Your Characters” workshop over at Savvy Authors starting Monday (Feb 3), and there’s still time to register if you like. But I thought it would be good to talk about why I came up with this workshop–and why you might need it.

The workshop came out of my own frustration at reading what otherwise would be a really good story–except the things horses did (or had done to them) stretched out of my ability to suspend disbelief. This happens a lot with historical romances where you almost always have to include horses. And it can happen with modern novels set either around horse breeding, showing, or racing.

What are the worst mistakes?

1-The horse who acts like a dog. An recent animated movie committed this sin and had the horse lapping up water like a dog (they suck water down like Hoovers). Horses are not big dogs. Granted, they sometimes act like big, dumb dogs, but they have a whole different set of instincts due to being prey animals.

2-The horse who acts like a car. This is even worse. Horses do not park well, not even when tied. Horses have to be harnessed or tacked up and have to be cooled off and have to be walked and fed and watered and generally take a lot more care–this is why cars won the battle for convenient transportation.

buckedoff3-The easy to get up and down from horse. Even the shortest horse is a long way up from the ground. Unless we’re talking pony, most folks cannot easily swing up on  a horse (I knew one cowboy who had this trick, but forget it if we’re talking knights with armor here). Getting on and off a horse is a production–and horses seem to delight in moving right when you’re most off balance with one foot in the stirrup.

4-The stretch limo horse. Horses have limits of weight and speed and distance. The weight limit is a big one. Most horses can manage one person, but two is a huge burden, and generally puts weight over the horse’s loins (not good). It’s also really uncomfortable to ride double, and so not that romantic.

5-The kiss. Speaking of romance, the kiss from horseback is generally a myth. Yes, some horses will stand still for this (really, really well trained horses). Most horses feel you leaning and shift away–making for a really awkward moment. If you want some laughs at the expense of others, check out You Tube for the mounted weddings (hint: billowing wedding dresses and horses do not mix well–brings new meaning to the phrase run-away bride).

6-The stallion! Truth is stallions are generally a pain in the butt. If they’ve been used for breeding, they want to breed everything. You may think your mare is touchy, but stallions are just as moody. Yes, there are some good ones–and some very well trained ones. But, in general, if you want a good, steady ride, you’re looking for a gelding who’ll keep his mind on work.

arabian7-The big hero on the Arabian. Don’t get me wrong, I love Arabs–and I’ve ridden some great ones. I’ve  never seen one bigger than about 16 hands and that’s a rarity. They’re usually between 14 and 15.3 hands high (with a hand being 4 inches). This means they’re on the small side–any guy over 6′ is going to look like he is riding a pony. He will not look dashing–and I always start laughing at this point in any book that puts that big dude on that little horse.

So, in general, think of horses as characters–they want to eat (and eat some more). They have their own fears, their own opinions about things, and their own tempers. They aren’t dogs, or people, or cars. They are wonderful, however. And if you’d like to learn more, particularly about horses through history, stop by the workshop.

In the Saddle: Regency Riding

foxhunting The horse was a vital part of everyday Regency life, but few of us today have such an intimate acquaintance with that lovely animal.  We all know how to describe someone getting in and out of a car, but what about getting on and off a horse?  What does it actually feel like to ride side saddle?  How can two people ride a single horse?

The English saddle has changed little in its appearance over the past two hundred years.  The major change came at the end of the 19th century when the modern “Forward Seat: was invented and the saddle flap began to be cut “forward” so that it lay over a horse’s shoulder (allowing a shorter stirrup).  Prior to this, riders sat very straight in the saddle, leaning back when jumping fences, as seen in hunting prints of the era.

The Side Saddle

sidesaddle1790-1810Prior to 1835, a side saddle had one or two pommels; one turned up to support the right leg, some with a second pommel which turned down over the left leg.

Riding Habits

The riding habit had to be cut so that it draped down over the horse’s side, covering ankle and boot in a lovely flow.  This drape required that a loop also be attached to the hem, so that, when dismounted, a lady could gather up the extra length of skirt.

The modern Thoroughbred, on the other hand, has changed a good deal. The Eastern breeds (Arabian, Turk, Barb) were introduced to England in the mid 1700’s. Cross-breeding to English mares produced the Thoroughbred’s ancestors. Horses in racing and hunting prints of the era reveal characteristic Arabian features– dished face, large eyes, dainty, clean legs. More important is the size of these horses: rarely did a Thoroughbred of that era stand over 16 hands (64 inches). Most Blood horse of the ear resembled their Arabian fathers and stood around 15 hands (60 inches) at the wither. This makes a big difference when mounting.

A lady’s side saddle requires a slight alteration in the standard mounting and dismounting method. Again, the reins are held in the left hand. The lady stands facing the horse, or even slightly forward. She also holds the reins and whip in her left hand. Taking the stirrup iron in her right hand to hold it steady, she places her left foot in the iron. With her foot in the iron, she can reach up to hold the saddle. As she hops up, her weight goes to the left foot in the iron and she leverages her weight up. However, instead of swinging her leg over the horse, she pulls her right leg up in front of her and seats herself sideways in the saddle. She then can settle herself with the right leg over the top pommel, the left under the left pommel and in the stirrup.

To dismount, a lady unhooks her right leg, takes her left foot out of the stirrup and slips off. (If she has any sense, she only does this if she’s certain she can get back on again.)

Modern views make it seem as if riding side saddle must be awkward and uncomfortable. In fact, it is neither.

girl_sidesaddle     The skirt has always been designed to facilitate both mounting and riding. It is either a full skirt, usually cut with a drape on the left; or a wrapped skirt is worn over pantaloons (which came into fashion around the early 1800’s). Because of its cut, as you mount, the skirt falls into its natural position, covering the legs to the ankle. In the saddle, the skirt is forgotten. On the ground, a loop over the wrist keeps the draping skirt out of mud and dust.

These skirts are neither difficult to wear, nor are they heavy and cumbersome. The fabric is usually a heavy cotton or twill. A habit provides any woman with a long stride as much freedom as breeches (and more than a fashionable round dress of the era would offer). Having worn both, I should always prefer a habit and can well understand the country ladies who wore little else.

The important factor in riding side saddle is the horse: a comfortable stride and good manners are essential. In other words, a lady’s mount is preferred. This does not have to be a placid horse, but a horse with a rough or bumpy stride is not any fun under a side saddle.

The side saddle requires the rider to sit with a straight back and with hips and shoulders absolutely even. Slightly more weight should be carried on the right hip to compensate for the weight of both legs on the left. Any tilting to one side, leaning or twisting eventually results in a horse with a sore back.

Side saddles have a broad, flat and comfortably padded seat. The right leg goes over a padded leather branch which turns up (the top pommel). The left leg is in a stirrup that is short enough to bring it firmly up against a second pommel which turns down. If the horse plays up at all, you clamp both legs together, gripping these horns to stay up. It is not as secure as being able to wrap your legs around a horse that’s bucking, but only the worst riders would fall from a mild mishap.

sidesaddle     On a comfortable horse, riding side saddle soon begins to feel a bit like riding a padded rocking chair. It’s far less tiring than riding astride for the only effort is to sit straight and still. It is also amazingly comfortable to let the right leg rest on the horse’s shoulder (the right foot actually rests a bit forward of the horse’s left shoulder).

While it is possible to rise to the trot (post) side saddle, some claim that this is the real cause of giving a side saddle horse a sore back as it requires too much weight to be put into the left stirrup.

Betty Skelton, author of Side saddle Riding, found that….”As a teenager in the 1920’s, side saddle riding was second nature to me. I found it comfortable and I did not fall off as often as I had done from a cross saddle.” In teaching side saddle, Ms. Skelton has found that a beginner rider can often be comfortably cantering during her first lesson– not likely when riding astride!

A Gentlemen’s Mount & Dismount

For a gentleman’s saddle, mounting requires the reins (and any whip) to be held in the left hand. A rider traditionally mounts from the left. The rider stands at the horse’s shoulder, facing the horse’s hind quarters (or haunch). With the right hand, the rider turns the stirrup iron sideways. The left foot goes into the stirrup. The rider may grasp the cantle or back of the saddle with the right hand. He then pushes himself off the ground with the right foot, transferring his weight to the left foot in the stirrup and pushing himself into the saddle. Swinging the right leg over the horse’s back, the rider lands lightly in the seat.

By natural inclination, a horse will move out of the way of any rider attempting to leap onto its back with a vault from the rear or a jump from a high point. However, horse may be trained to put up with this behavior– as movie horses are.

To dismount, the gentleman kicks his feet out of both stirrups and swings off to the left, the right leg coming over the horse’s back.

Horses seem to have a sixth sense for when the rider is off balance with one foot in the stirrup. At that moment, the animal steps forward, making the rider hop along with all the grace of a one-legged duck. Some horses have this timing so exact that it is impossible to mount without assistance.

mounting     A groom who leads a horse out, for a gentleman or lady, will stay and hold the horse’s head. If the gentleman is portly, the groom may also hold the stirrup on the opposite side from the rider to keep the saddle from ending up under the horse’s belly. (This can happen no matter how much the girth is tightened.)

In giving a “leg up” to a lady, a groom would not dare to be so bold as to take a lady by the waist (as a rather forward gentleman might). Instead, the groom makes a stirrup from his hands. He then holds his hands low enough to allow the lady to easily step into them with her left foot. Then the groom boosts her lightly into the saddle. (I’ve seen riders tossed over a horse by too strong a boost, to the smothered laughter of everyone except the rider.)

When a groom is unavailable, a mounting block can help (and is particularly recommended to help keep a side saddle even on the horse’s back). This can be a block about two feet in height, or a fallen tree or bank can serve the same purpose of giving the rider a little extra elevation to easily step into the stirrup and swing up.

Two Astride

tworiders     In a man’s saddle, it is quite easy to manage two on a horse. If the lady stands with her back to the horse, a gentleman can boost her into the saddle by picking her up around the waist and lifting her up so that she sits facing sideways. This is “tossing” a lady into the saddle (best done by tall heroes with short heroines).

With the lady up, the gentleman can mount up behind her so that he sits in the saddle and actually holds her somewhat on his lap. This is a nice arrangement if the two intend to amble home at a gentle walk on a placid horse. The gentleman can use his arms to steady his lady (and to other purposes, if he’s less than a gentleman). The lady can hold onto the horse’s mane for security (hopefully, she won’t grab the reins and frighten the horse).

The disadvantage is that the lady is sitting on the pommel (the round front part of the saddle). At the least, a gallop in this position will be painful on the posterior. At the worst, the gentleman may lose control of his mount.

For fast flight, a different arrangement is necessary.

The gentleman should mount first. (If he’s thin and athletic, he can swing himself up without using the stirrups– a most impressive feat when done right, and a ridiculous scramble up otherwise.) Then he reaches down to the lady. Grasping her hand, he can instruct her to put her left foot on his toe, then he swings her up behind him. Alternately, if he’s strong enough, he might be able to haul her up behind without her help (if he doesn’t mind half-pulling her arm out of the socket).

For a really spectacular mount, it’s quite easy for a rider to gallop up to someone on the ground, reach down and grab that person by the arm, relying on the horse’s momentum to swing the second rider up. The only critical elements are timing, good aim and a brave enough soul on the ground who won’t run from a galloping horse. (This maneuver makes up the modern “Rescue Race” held at some Rodeos.)

A lady, if she’s wearing a habit, she can sit astride or sideways. If she’s grown up riding side saddle, she will probably prefer to sit sideways behind the gentleman. Either way, she should wrap her arms around him to manage any pace faster than a walk. She does not sit in the saddle, but sits behind on the horse’s back. She’ll feel the heat of the horse and her skirts will end up covered in horse sweat and hair.

A side saddle is an added problem when fitting two astride. If both ride well, the best option is to strip off the saddle and have the lady up behind or in front of the gentleman.

Riding without a saddle requires excellent balance– fortunately, most Arabian horses (or part Arabs) have small withers and are therefore fairly comfortable. The horse’s skin slides under you like a silk rag on polished wood, but there’s a pleasant sensation of muscles moving. You feel every twitch, and it can sometimes feel as if you will slip off (which you won’t as long as you don’t lean to the right or left).

If the side saddle must stay on, the next best choice is for the gentleman to mount up behind the lady (swinging himself up, or using the stirrup to mount). Because of the positions of the horns in a side saddle, no gentleman is going to find any comfort in trying to ride a lady’s side saddle. If he has any sense at all, he’ll either strip off the saddle or stay up behind a lady. This requires a good rider on the gentleman’s part to carry it off (and a patient horse).

When two riders dismount, there are several options. The person behind can dismount first by swinging a leg off over the back of the horse. Or, if sitting astride, the person in front can dismount first by swinging the right leg over the horse’s neck. Most horses do not object to this. With a lady up front and sitting sideways, she can easily slip off to dismount, however, the gentleman would most likely dismount first out of courtesy and then help her dismount.

Riding Harness Horses

As a general rule, horses broken to harness are not necessarily broken for riding (the exception being post horses). Being creatures of habit, a horse who is accustomed to pulling a carriage will object strenuously to any attempts to mount it. You will end up spinning in circles trying to mount. The opposite also holds true– attempting to attach a hunter to a carriage is a good way to see the carriage kicked to splinters. It takes months of training for a horse to accept harness and will pull any weight.

Finally, some useful “English” riding terms that you may want to know:

Cantle – the back of a saddle.

Pommel – the front of a saddle.

Girth – the strap that goes under the horse’s belly to hold the saddle.

Horn – an extension to the pommel (as in side saddles and western saddles).

Post– to rise up & down in the stirrups to the two-beat trot of a horse

Reins – the part of the bridle held by a rider, connecting the rider’s hand with the bit in the horse’s mouth.

Stirrup Iron – the metal iron used as a stirrup on an English saddle (which is attached with a stirrup leather– a leather strap that buckles to itself).

Trot – a two-beat gait, faster than a walk, slower than a canter (legs move in diagonal pairs).

Canter – a three-beat gate, faster than a trot, slower than a gallop.

To learn more, the Horse Sense for Your Characters workshop begins in February 2014.

The Regency Meal, or Food, Glorious Food

Hanna GlassThere is something wonderful about food. Why else would we watch shows about cooking, buy cook books, and even enjoy reading (and writing) about food. Regency England was also an era that enjoyed its food.

There was interest enough in food skills that by 1765 Hanna Glasse’s The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy had gone into nine editions, selling for five shillings if bound. (Back then, one could buy unbound books and have them custom bound to match the rest of the books in one’s library.) Hanna’s book remained popular for over a hundred years. However, her recipes can be difficult to translate into modern terms–the quantities often seem aimed to feed an army, as in this recipe for ‘An Oxford Pudding’:

“A quarter of a pound of biscuit grated, a quarter of a pound of currants clean washed and picked, a quarter of a pound of suet shred small, half a large spoonful of powder-sugar, a very little salt, and some grated nutmeg; mix all well together, then take two yolks of eggs, and make it up in balls as big as a turkey’s egg. Fry them in fresh butter of a fine light brown; for sauce have melted butter and sugar, with a little sack or white wine. You must mind to keep the pan shaking about, that they may be all of a light brown.”

I’ve yet to try this recipe, and when I do I’ll probably substitute vegetable oil for suet, but it does sound tasty.

Amounts in older cookbooks are also often confusing to the modern reader, often listing ingredients to be added as handfuls, as in the rue, sage, mint, rosemary, wormwood and lavender for a “recipt against the plague” given by Hanna Glasse in The Art of Cookery made Plain and Easy.

Brighton KitchenThe time spent on making these recipes could also be considerable. This was an era when labor was cheap, and if one could afford servants, they could provide that labor.  The Prince Regent’s kitchen in Brighton was fit for a king of a chef, and large enough to allow an army of cooks, pastry chefs, under cooks, and scullery maids. It also sported windows for natural light as well as large lamps, and pillars in the shape of palm trees to carry on the exotic decor of the rest of the Brighton Pavilion. Elaborate dishes could be concocted both for the well and the sick.

Shank Jelly for an invalid requires lamb to be left salted for four hours, brushed with herbs, and simmered for five hours. There are few today who have time for such a recipe, unless they, too, are dedicated cooks.

Sick cookery is an item of importance as well for this era. Most households looked after their own, creating recipes for heart burn or making “Dr. Ratcliff’s restorative Pork Jelly.” Coffee milk is recommended for invalids as is asses’ milk, milk porridge, saloop (water, wine, lemon-peel and sugar), chocolate, barley water, and baked soup. (Interestingly, my grandmother swore by an old family recipe of hot water, whisky, lemon and sugar as a cough syrup, and that’s one recipe I still use.)

As interest expanded, and a market was created by the rise of the middle class, other books came out. Elizabeth Raffald had a bestseller with The Experienced English Housekeeper. The first edition came out in 1769, with thirteen subsequent authorized edition and twenty-three unauthorized versions.

Dinner_FromMrsHurstDancingIn 1808, Maria Rundell, wife of the famous jeweler, came out with her book A New System of Domestic Cookery for Private Families. This book expanded on recipes to also offer full menu suggestions, as well as recipes for the care of the sick, household hints, and directions for servants. This shows how the influence of the industrial revolution had created a new class of gentry, who needed instructions on running a household, instructions that previously had been handed down through the generations with an oral tradition. The rise of the “mushrooms” and the “cit”, merchants who’d made fortunes from new inventions and industry, created a need for their wives and daughters to learn how to deal with staff and households.

Any good wife had much to supervise within a household, even if the servants performed much of the actual work.

A household would make its own bread, wafers, and biscuits, brew its own ale, distill spirits, and make cheese. In the city, some of these would be available for purchase. Fortnum and Masons specialized in starting to produce such ‘luxury’ goods (jams and biscuits, or what we Americans would call cookies).

In London, wines would be purchased from such places as Berry Brothers, a business still in existence as Berry Bros & Rudd. Establish in the late 1600’s at No. 3 St. James’s St., the store initially supplied coffee houses with coffee and supplies. They expanded into wines when John Berry came into the business due to marriages and inheritance. Berrys went on to serve individuals and London clubs such as Boodles and Whites with coffee, wines, and other goods. They put up their ‘sign of the coffee mill’ in the mid 1700’s, and Brummell as well as others used their giant coffee scale to keep an eye on his weight and keep his fashionable figure.

Laura Wallace offers more information on wines and spirits of the Regency (http://laura.chinet.com/html/recipes.html. She notes Regency wines: port, the very popular Madeira, sherry, orgeat, ratafia, and Negus, a mulled wine. Other wines you might find on a Regency dinner table include: burgundy, hock (pretty much any white wine), claret, and champagne (smuggled in from France).

For stronger spirits, Brandy was smuggled in from France. Whiskey, cider, and gin were also drunk, but were considered more fitting for the lower class. (Whiskey would acquire a better cachet in the mid to late 1800’s, due to the establishment of large distilleries and after it again became legal. The Act of Union between Scotland and England in the early 1700’s and taxation drove distillers into illegal operation. After much bloodshed, and much smuggling, the Excise Act of 1823 set a license fee that allowed the distillery business to boom.)

For weaker fare, ale, porter, and beer were to be found in almost any tavern, and would be brewed by any great house for the gentlemen. Water as a beverage, was often viewed with deep suspicion, wisely so in this era, but lemonade was served.

As Laura Wallace notes on her site, “port, Madeira and sherry are heavy, ‘fortified’ wines, that is to say, bolstered with brandy (or some other heavy liquor). Port derives its name from the port city of Oporto in Portugal. Madeira is named for an island of Portugal…

“Madeira is particularly noted as a dessert wine, but is often used as an aperitif or after dinner drink, while port is only for after dinner, and historically only for men. ‘Orgeat’ is… ‘a sweet flavoring syrup of orange and almond used in cocktails and food.’ Ratafia is…a sweet cordial flavored with fruit kernels or almonds.”

In the country, a household functioned as a self-sufficient entity, buying nothing other than the milled flour from the miller (although many great houses might also grown their own wheat and mill it), and perhaps a few luxuries that could not be produced in England, such as sugar, tea, coffee, chocolate, and wines that could not be locally produced. Fish could be caught locally; sheep, beef, and pigs were raised for meat as well as hides and fat for tallow candles; chickens, ducks, and other tame birds were raised for eggs and for their feathers (useful things in pillows); wild birds, deer and other game could be hunted on great estates; bees were raised for honey and wax candles of a high quality; breweries and dairies were found on every estate, and every house would have its kitchen garden with vegetables and herbs. Berry wines could be made in the still room, along with perfumes, soaps, polishes, candles and other household needs. Many of the great houses also built greenhouses or orangery to produce year round, forcing early fruits, vegetables, and flowers, and providing warmth for the production of exotics such as oranges and pineapples. (The concept of heating with local hot springs had been introduced to England by the Romans, and was still around in Regency Era, and many new innovations were also being introduced for better heating and water flow into homes.)

For a gentlemen who lived in the city without a wife or a housekeeper, cheap food could be purchased from street vendors in London, but most meals would be taken at an inn, a tavern, or if he could afford it, his club. Many accommodations provided a room, and not much more, with the renter using a chamber pot that would be emptied into the London gutters, and getting water from a local public well (and this shared water source accounted several times for the spread of cholera in London). Cheaply let rooms had no access to kitchens. Hence the need for a good local tavern, or to belong to a club.

According to Captain Gronow, remembering Sir Thomas Stepney’s remarks, most clubs served the same fare, and this would be, “‘the eternal joints, or beef-steaks, the boiled fowl with oyster sauce, and an apple tart.'” From this remark about the poor quality of food to be had, the Prince Regent is said to have asked his cook, Jean Baptiste Watier to found a dining club where a gentleman could have a decent meal. Headed by Labourie, the cook named by Waiter to run the club, it served very expensive, but excellent meals. It was no wonder that a single gentleman might well prefer to perfect his entertaining discourse so he might be invited to any number of dinners at private houses.

As with all eras, in the Regency, meals provided a social structure for life.

a simple mealTo start the day in London, a fashionable breakfast would be served around ten o’clock, well after most of the working class had risen and started their day. The Regency morning went on through the afternoon, when morning calls were paid. In London, five o’clock was the ‘morning’ hour to parade in Hyde Park. A Regency breakfast party might occur sometime between one and five o’clock in the afternoon.

During morning calls, light refreshments might be served.  Ladies might have a ‘nuncheon’ but the notion of lunch did not exist. Also, the lush high tea now served at most swank London hotels actually originated as a working class dinner, and was perfected by the Edwardians into an art form, but was not a Regency meal.

In London, the fashionable dined between five and eight, before going out for the evening. This left room for a supper to be served as either a supper-tray that might be brought into a country drawing room, or as a buffet that would be served at a ball. Such a supper would be served around eleven but, in London, this supper could be served as late as nearly dawn.

Country hours were different than city hours. In the country, gentlemen would rise early for the hunt or to go shooting. Breakfast would be served after the hunt, with only light refreshments offered before hunting. These hunt breakfasts might be lavish affairs, and if the weather was good, servants might haul out tables, silverware, china, chairs and everything to provide an elegant meal. Again, tea might be taken when visitors arrived in the country, and this would include cakes being served, along with other light sweets.

Dinner then came along in the Regency countryside at the early hour of three or four o’clock. This again left time in the latter evening for a tea to be brought round, with light fare, around ten or eleven. A country ball might also serve a buffet or a meal during the ball, or a dinner beforehand.

From the Georgian era to the Regency the method for serving dinner changed. “…as soon as they walked into the dining-room they saw before them a table already covered with separate dishes of every kind of food…,” states The Jane Austen Cookbook.

Family MealThe idea was that with all courses laid on the table, those dining would choose which dishes to eat, taking from the dishes nearest. It was polite to offer a dish around. Food in History notes, “It was a custom that was more than troublesome; it also required a degree of self-assertion. The shy or ignorant guest limited not only his own menu but also that of everyone else at the table. Indeed, one young divinity student ruined his future prospects when, invited to dine by an archbishop who was due to examine him in the scriptures, he found before him a dish of ruffs and reeves, wild birds that (although he was too inexperienced to know it) were a rare delicacy. Out of sheer modesty the clerical tyro confined himself exclusively to the dish before him….”

This style of serving dinner was known as service à la française. During the Regency this was replaced by service à la russe in which the dishes were set on a sideboard and handed around by servants.

Tea Time

TeaServiceToday we have a guest post from author Ella Quinn on tea — so curl up with a cuppa and enjoy!

Ah, tea. Once could wax eloquently on the subject of tea, and one has. The small leaves have been the topic of erudite, and sometime heated conversation, especially when talk turns to how tea was drunk over 200 years ago. And why, you ask, would one want to discuss that particular matter? Well… because I am a Regency author, and, therefore, I tend to have conversations with other Regency authors on seemingly innocuous matter.

The actual origins of the drink are said to date back to Sichuan province’s Emperor Shen Nung 2737 BC. In China, tea had the reputation of being helpful in treating everything from tumors to making on happy.

teaboxTea was first brought to England from China in the mid-17th Century. It made its debut around the same time as Turkish coffee and hot chocolate. Tea had been drunk on the Continent prior to its arrival in England as Ladies Arlington and Offory developed a taste for it in Holland and brought some home with them. At the time, tea was hideously expensive, one report in 1666 had it as costing 40s a pound when brandy cost 3. Considering the average lawyer earned the equivalent of £20 per year, it is not surprising that only the wealthy could afford to buy it. It was during this century that tea began appearing in coffee houses as well.

While the men were out drinking coffee, tea and chocolate at coffee houses which were morphing into clubs such as White’s, the ladies followed Queen Catherine’s example (she brought her own tea from Portugal) and remained home to drink tea a chocolate. There appear to be several reasons that coffee did not become popular at home, one was the smell, which many found objectionable.

Tea PartyThe earliest painting I found of ladies getting together to drink tea is A Tea Party by Verkolje. Since 17th Century it was customary for the lady or gentleman of the house to actually brew and serve the tea.

By the late 17th Century, green tea in both leaf and powered form, and black tea called Bohea from the Bohea mountain region were being imported. If tea wasn’t expensive enough, the government decided to tax it, and smugglers opted to take advantage of that decision and a trade smuggled tea began. By the 18th Century the beverage had become so popular that no less than at least fourteen different types of tea were available, as were adulterated teas. Smouch making, the mixing of tea with dried ash tree leaves had begun. Because it was easier to hid smouch in green tea, black tea became more popular. At the end of the century, tea was enjoyed by all social classes.

By the 19th Century, tea was also being imported from India and Ceylon. The beverage was drunk at breakfast, in the afternoon (Jane Austen makes mention of it in1804), evening and in times of distress. A while ago, I ran across a quote from a lady stating that one invited friends to “drink tea” and that the term to “take tea” was vulgar. Unfortunately, I can no longer find the reference.

teatableThe popularity of tea also spurred new serving wear, furniture and later in the century rooms in houses were set aside for the purpose of drinking tea.

Now back to the original debate. According to Jane Pettigrew’s A Social History of Tea, which I highly recommend and from whence much of this information has been derived, Tea was drunk with sugar and either sweet milk or cream. It appears that more men preferred cream than did women. Or at least they wrote about it more. When Jane Austen wrote about drinking tea, it was with milk.

Tea plays a large part in my debut novel The Seduction of Lady Phoebe. The hero, Lord Marcus is devoted to tea. Unfortunately, his father will only allow coffee to be served at breakfast. Lady Phoebe, as did most ladies of the time, had her own blend.

Excerpt from The Seduction of Lady Poebe

A low growl from her stomach caught her attention. “I’m famished.”

Marcus nodded. “As am I. When I have a household of my own again, I’ll order breakfast to be served early.”

She turned Lilly toward the gate. “I’ll wager if we go back to St. Eth House now, François, my uncle’s chef, will find something to feed us.”

“Lead on.”

After they entered St. Eth House, Phoebe motioned to Marcus to follow her through the baize door leading to the kitchen.

With a brilliant smile on her face, she approached François, the St. Eth chef de cuisine. “François, we have been riding and are so very hungry. Will you feed us?”

He glanced from her to Marcus. “Oui, milady. Naturellement.”

François gave them each a warm bun with honey before shooing them up the stairs to await their breakfast.

Phoebe took a place at the table and Marcus sat next to her. Ferguson brought tea and she poured them each a cup. The buns were wonderful, tasting of honey and butter. She wondered what François would send up for the rest of their breakfast.

Marcus gave a satisfied sigh. “Phoebe, I can’t thank you enough for the tea. I almost always have to have coffee at home.”

That was very strange. Puzzled, she asked, “Why do you not ask for tea to be served if you don’t like coffee?” It was the first time she’d ever seen him disgruntled.

“I asked for tea once, years ago, and my father gave me coffee. He was so adamant, I never asked again. I still feel like a guest at Dunwood House, as if I’ll be returning to Jamaica. . . .”

THE SEDUCTION OF LADY PHOEBE ~ ON SALE: September, 19, 2013LADY PHOEBE STANHOPE, famous for her quick wits, fast horses, and punishing right hook, is afraid of nothing but falling in love. Fleeing a matchmaking attempt with the only man she despises, Phoebe meets a handsome blue-eyed stranger who sends her senses skittering. By the time Phoebe discovers the seductive stranger is the same arrogant troll she sent packing eight years ago, she is halfway to falling in love with him.

LORD MARCUS FINLEY last saw Phoebe striding regally away, as he lay on the floor with a bruised jaw and a rapidly swelling eye. Recently returned from the West Indies, Marcus is determined to earn Phoebe’s love, preferably before she discovers who he is. Determined to have Phoebe for his own, Marcus begins his campaign to gain her forgiveness and seduce her into marriage.

Can Phoebe learn to trust her own heart and Marcus? Or is she destined to remain alone?

“Lady Phoebe is a heroine Georgette Heyer would adore–plucky, pretty, and well worth the devotion of the dashing Lord Marcus. A marvelous find for Regency romance readers.” — NYT Bestseller Grace Burrowes 

“Ella Quinn’s The Seduction of Lady Phoebe is a passionate tale full of humor, romance, and poignancy. Quinn writes classic Regency romance at its best!” — Shana Galen

Preorder or Buy at:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

B&N

Author Ella Quinn has lived all over the United States, the Pacific, Canada, England and Europe before finally discovering the Caribbean. She lives in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands with her wonderful husband, three bossy cats and a loveable great dane. Ella loves when friends connect with her. Visit her at www.ellaquinnauthor.com, or connect on Facebook, Twitter, or at her blog. 

 

The Beginning of Handbags

Char portrait 2009smerWe have a guest post by Charlene Raddon, author of Taming Jenna, Tender Touch, Forever Mine, To Have and to Hold, and writing as Rachel Summers, Scent of Roses. Charlene normally blogs at  http://www.charleneraddon.blogspot.com, however she’s here now with great info on the history of handbags.

NOTE: Charlene is giving away a free book and $5 Amazon gift card to a random commenter. You must comment by March 1, and leave an email address so you can be contacted.

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Purses, pouches, or bags have been used since humans first found a need to carry precious items with them. Egyptian hieroglyphs show men wearing purses around the waist, and the Bible specifically identifies Judas Iscariot as a purse carrier.

During the 14th and 15th centuries, bags were attached to the most vital feature of medieval garb: the girdle, along with rosaries, Book of Hours, pomanders (scented oranges), chatelaines (a clasp or chain to suspend keys, etc.), even daggers. Women favored ornate drawstring purses known as “hamondeys” or “tasques”. Men used purses known as “chaneries” for gaming or for holding food for falcons.

no3pic2During the Elizabethan era, women’s skirts expanded to enormous proportions and small medieval girdle purses became lost among huge amounts of fabric. Rather than wear girdle pouches outside on a belt, women chose to wear them under their skirts. Men wore leather pockets (called “bagges”) inside their breeches. Large satchel-like leather or cloth bags were sometimes worn by peasants or travelers, diagonally across the body.

In the 16th and 17th centuries the more visible bags were rejected and long embroidered drawstring purses were hidden under skirts and breeches instead, while some people wanted them to be conspicuous, for use as decorative containers for gifts, money, perfume, or jewels. Toward the end of the 17th century, purses became increasingly sophisticated, changing from simple drawstring designs to more complex shapes and materials.

Following the French Revolution, narrow, high-waisted dresses became popular, leaving no room beneath for pockets. Consequently, purses, in the form of “reticules” or “indispensables” as the English called them, came into use, showing that women had become dependent upon handbags. The French parodied the women who carried the delicate bags that resembled previously hidden pockets as “ridicules”.beaded reticule

Victorian era developments in science and industry provided a vast array of styles and fabrics women could coordinate with their outfits. Though pockets returned in the 1840s, women continued to carry purses and spend an enormous amount of time embroidering them to show off for potential husbands, often including the date and their own initials in the designs. Chatelaines attached to the waist belt with a decorated clasp remained popular.

The railroad brought about a revolution in the use of bags. As more people traveled by train professional luggage makers turned the skills of horse travel into those for train travel, and soon the term “handbag” emerged to describe these new hand-held luggage bags. Many of the top names of today’s handbags started as luggage makers (whereas, previously made purses and pouches were made by dressmakers). Hermes bags were founded in 1837, a harness and saddle maker. Loius Vuitton was a luggage packer for the Parisian rich. Modern handbag designs still Crocheted reticuleallude to luggage with pockets, fastenings, frames, locks, and keys.

Early in the 20th century handbags became much more than just hand-held luggage. Women could choose from small reticules, Dorothy bags (now called dotty or marriage bags) with matching robes, muffs, and fitted leather bags with attached telescopic opera glasses and folding fans. Working women used larger handbags, such as the Boulevard bag, leather shopping bags, and even briefcases worn around the shoulder.

After WWI, the long constricting layers and rigid corseting women wore disappeared. Perhaps the most important development during this period was the “pochette,” a type of handle-less clutch, often decorated with dazzling Tiny metal pursegeometric and jazz motifs, worn tucked under arms to give an air of nonchalant youth. Rules for color coordination grew lax and novelty bags, such as doll bags (dressed exactly like the wearer), became popular. The discovery of King Tutankhamun’s tomb in 1923 inspired purses reflecting exotic motifs.

image

Today, purse designs continue to fluctuate, and always will. What sort of purses do you remember using when you were young? In the 1950s I had a pink and white, square plastic purse I loved. I wonder whatever became of it. If I owned that purse now, it would probably be worth a pretty penny.

To Have and To Hold by Charlene Raddon - 200Charlene Raddon’s Latest book is To Have and To Hold…

A woman without a prayer…

 A widow with two children, Tempest Whitney had to mortgage everything to repay the money her husband had stolen. But even as she struggles to hold onto her Utah homestead, a scheming rancher buys up her debts, demanding she either get off his land or marry him. Then a dark-haired stranger shows up, claiming to be her dead husband…

A man without a past….

Buck Maddux spent two years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. Now a death bed promise has brought him to Tempest’s dugout. A man without roots, he doesn’t plan to stay—or to feel so fiercely protective of this feisty beauty he saves from a forced marriage. Suddenly, Buck yearns for a home, a family, a lasting love. But what can he offer Tempest? The surprising answer lies in the forbidden canyons of an ancient Anasazi tribe, where fortune and danger await—along with a passion more precious than gold…

EXCERPT

Riding up to the house, he called out a hello and dismounted. Surrounded by barking dogs he proceeded to water his horse at a well built over a natural spring. From beneath the wide brim of his Stetson he searched for some sign of life. Finally he headed to the house, spurs jangling in his wake. His fist was raised, ready to knock, when the rough plank door swung inward and the business end of a Henry repeating rifle met with his nose.

“Judas!”  He jerked back and stumbled over his own big feet. A cat screeched, letting him know he had mangled its tail. The critter got even by climbing Buck’s leg. Yelping and dancing while he tried to extract the cat, he trampled two or three more felines. Easy to do; half a dozen littered the yard, along with pigs and a flutter of chickens.

“Whoa there, ma’am.”  He held up a hand. “Don’t mean you any harm.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

The cat took off, kinked tail in the air. Buck checked for damage and decided he’d live. “That’s a mite awkward to explain.”  He took off his hat, wiped his brow on his sleeve and replaced the hat back, buying time while he studied her.

She wasn’t much to look at. The braid hanging to her waist appeared as though crows had been pecking at it. Dun-colored strands fluttering about her head gave her a wild look that belied the delicacy of her face. A strong chin balanced her large eyes and a mouth as stubborn as the mules in the pole corral. A patched apron hung to her scuffed boots and hugged her legs snugly enough hint she wasn’t wearing skirts. He was wondering what might be under the apron when she spat, “Spill it, mister. I haven’t got all day.”

“Think you could put down the gun?” He eyed the rifle with amusement and chagrin. “This might take a while and your arms are like to get tired.”

“Don’t think for a second, just because I’m a woman, that I can’t shoot this rifle,” she drawled. “I hate when men jump to such conclusions. Makes me so angry I start shaking and that makes my trigger finger jittery, if you know what I mean.”

Buck knew. A jittery trigger finger meant he might get shot for no reason. He eyed her speculatively. She wasn’t much bigger than a colt; no problem for a man his size to handle. “I doubt you’d enjoy where they’d put you for shooting a man,” he said, smiling to hide his growing irritation.

“Nobody goes to jail for self-defense. Especially a woman. You going to state your business or not?”

“Are you Tempest Whitney?”

“What’s it to you?”

He sighed. “Name’s Buck Maddux. I ran onto your husband two years ago. He was gut shot and bleeding bad —”

“Maddux!” Her head snapped up and her finger tightened on the trigger. “You yellow-bellied son of a coyote. How dare you come here? Didn’t you cause enough grief robbing that stage and getting my husband killed? Get off my property before I fill you with lead the way the posse did Skeet.”

He threw up his hands as she stepped closer. “Easy, ma’am, I didn’t come here to get you all upset.”

“What did you expect? That I’d welcome you with open arms and invite you in for supper? Just because my husband let you rope him into a stupid robbery doesn’t mean I have to put up with you.”

That did it. Now he was angry. “Hold on a minute here.” His mouth was tight, his voice hard. “I had nothing to do with that robbery, or the Army patrol who shot your husband.”

“Sure. You were just an innocent bystander who happened to be with Skeet when he was caught.”

“As a matter of fact—”

“Raspberry stickers!” she spat. “You plotted that hold-up. You killed my husband as surely as if you’d pulled the trigger yourself.”

Buck’s blood boiled. He told himself it was because she’d accused him of lying, not because she’d come too close to the truth, but the excuse didn’t wash, adding to his fury. In one swift movement, he away snatched her rifle, threw it to the ground, and shoved her against the door jamb. He held her there with his body, her hands pinned above her head, while he stared into amber-sparked brown eyes.

The dogs took up barking again.
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Click on the links below to buy one of Charlene’s books:

To Have and to Hold

Tender Touch

Forever Mine