Archive | January 2026

Lady Lost – IndieBRAG Gold Medal

I’m delighted to announce that Lady Lost–the final book in the Regency Ladies in Distress series–was awarded the IndieBRAG Gold Medal.

Books are judged by readers and rated on the quality of the writing, characters, and even the covers. This is particularly rewarding since the story took forever (and a day) to actually get finished–some characters just are not very good at showing up on the page right away.

A historical scene depicting people dressed in early 19th-century clothing in a colonnade, with men in military uniforms and women in elegant dresses interacting and socializing. — Georg Emanuel Opiz, 1815

The other issue was research into Paris and France in 1815, with Napoleon returning from exile, the fun of using the Palais Royal in the story–seen in an 1815 painting at left with the courtesans of Paris and the troops that occupied the city after Waterloo.

I also wanted to weave in a mystery having to do with the Regent Diamond, which was taken from Paris by Napoleon’s Empress, the Archduchess Marie Louise of Austria (she took it with her to Austria in 1814 and it had to be returned. It is shown at right mounted into the hilt of Napoleon’s coronation sword, and almost lost in the folds of sash and gold trim, and all the robes and glitter that Napoleon insisted on wearing (talk about a man who was insecure about his less than royal background),

I also wanted to use Joseph Fouché, the duc d’Otrante, who was Napoleon’s head of the Secret Police, and then fell out with the Emperor. Lots of great stories there, with spies and counterspies, and a Paris on edge as it waited for what would come next in March of 1815.

All this meant looking for details that would make the story come alive–and weave in the story of Jules, Lord Sandal who is on a errand to help ing Louis, who has fled Paris, and his involvement with the illusionist, Madame de Mystére, otherwise known as Simone Raucourt. A lord and a stage actress made for a great couple and plenty for them to talk about what with her still holding revolutionary ideals.

One of the biggest challenges was to map out Paris–Napoleon did a lot of building, but Baron Haussmann changed Paris even more in the mid 1800s.

A Visit to Paris in 1814 by John Scott was of use, as was John Quincy Adam’s diary for his travels in 1815, including a stay in Paris. It was more than fun to research the elegant restaurants, such as’ the Café des Mille Colonnes, noted for its gilt columns, mirrors, and having the madam of the business sit on a chair that once housed the Viceroy of Italy, and was purchased for twelve thousand livres! Edward Planta’s 1816 A new picture of Paris; or, The stranger’s guide to the French metropolis while set a little after the date I wanted was helpful. But I was sad that I couldn’t find a place to include a scene with Monsier Leroy.

Louis Hippolyte Leroy founded the House of Leroy, and billed himself as “Fashion Merchant of her Majesty the Empress [Joséphine]”. His house named Maison Boutin, stood at rue de la Loi, which is now rue de Richelieu. He was ahead of his time in that he did not do the designs, but bought them from designers, and sold ensembles–meaning head to toe, hat to shoe, and everything else to go with a dress.

The cut scene is here:

Jules kept up a patter of nonsense. Something about how the rue de Richelieu was named for some cardinal of fame, and came to be called rue Royale, and then rue de la Loi before the Emperor restored its name. Simone did not want to think about such things. She had faint memories of the Terror from when she’d been a girl—mostly the fear in everyone’s eyes, the lack of an audience in any play, the need to always have a caution about what one said. She shivered. It seemed those times had never truly left Paris.

When the coach stopped, she tried to pull herself together. Jules had given her back her house key and she held it in one clenched fist, letting the metal bite through her thin glove leather. “Where?”

“Maison Boutin.” Jules said, handing her down from the carriage. “Monsieur Leroy dresses royalty, duchesses…and my mother.”

“And offers prices to go with?” Simone muttered. She glanced at the front door with footmen either side in pale blue livery, their black collars starting to gleam with damp. Jules hurried her past them, out of the wet. Inside, the luxury made her catch her breath and then wince at the contrast to her ruined rooms. More footmen carried silver trays with crystal goblets that gleamed in candlelight. Clients lounged on brocade sofas and chairs, and prints of exquisite garments hung on the walls. Women walked into the room dressed in the latest fashion, twirled to display the gowns to potential buyers, and retreated again. She had never seen the like.

A man in his early fifties, thick-set, with an air of importance came up to them and bowed. He dressed in the latest fashion of Cossack trousers and a tight-fitting coat in peacock blue that buttoned over his waistcoat, the ends of which peaked out giving glimpses of silver embroidery. He gave Simone an arrogant once up and down that left her face flaming hot, but Jules stepped forward. “You dressed my mother this past spring, and now my lady is in need of a new wardrobe.”

“Mother?” The older man stiffened. “I count amongst my clientele two empresses and all the crowned heads of Europe.”

“Yes, I daresay Vienna may know your name, but London is still to be impressed. That may yet happen. Lady Sandal has been known to set the rage.” He swept his hat off, dragged off his gloves and nodded at Simone. “She’ll need the usual fripperies to go with her gowns. You know the sort of thing. Corsets, hats, gloves, fans, bouquets, handkerchiefs, stockings, shoes, and…those unmentionables. The complete toilette. I’ve a line of credit with Rothschild, so cost is not to be considered, but I should like to see her in at least three day dresses, something for travel, a couple of evening gowns. Perhaps a court dress—not for here, you understand, but something to make a bow to the Prince Regent. He does like a pretty face in a pretty dress.”

The older man—it must be Leroy himself, Simone decided—began to smile. “Of course. A private room, perhaps.”

Simone found herself swept up stairs, installed on yet another brocade chair, gold damask curtains shading the room. Jules turned away to stare out the windows, and women in the same livery of light blue, the dresses made up with black collars, came in to measure and fuss with her.

Pink satin embroidered in steel, an apron gown, a redingote in Spanish Tobacco, a court dress of gold and silver over cream satin, a white robe of crepe trimmed with blonde lace, an evening gown of white taffeta edged in satin, a day dress of cotton percale with a dotted pattern, and another stripped periwinkle blue with camellia satin ribbons and white roses at the waist. Each came with shoes, gloves, bonnets, and shawls to complete the look—half-boots in periwinkle, with a bonnet also trimmed in white roses. A cashmere dress, trimmed at the hem with a lavish design, with a red velvet torque and red shawl, red boots and gloves. The colors swirled before her. She Sent a glance to Jules—she could not choose, could not even think. She sat with her hands clenched in her lap.

Paris General Plan 1814 to 1815 — Paris General Plan 1814-1815

January Foods in 1822

Jan1

In the Regency era, the best gardeners were though to come from Scotland, and John Claudius Loudon certainly helped cement that idea. His portrait at left shows him looking both prosperous and rather Scottish. He is noted as being the first to use the word ‘arboretum’ in his writings, he was a botanist, garden designer, and author, and his wife, Jane Webb, was also a horticulturalist, and author. It was a talented family. An Encylopaedia of Gardening by Loudon speaks to the wide variety of produce available in England in 1822, and also how nuts were linked to fruit. Some reference are very odd to the modern reader:

Rocket, of course, is called arugula in the US.
Savoys means a type of cabbage, known for crinkled leaves.
When he says ‘kidney beans for harricots’ he means that kidney beans replace the French beans (or what is called green beans in the US).
Fuci is the plural for Fucus a type of seaweed (obviously, you’d have to be near the sea to get this along with other coastal plants).
Borecoles is a type of kale.
Jerusalem artichoke is a hardy, starchy root plant that has nothing to do with artichokes, but has more in common with potatoes and mashes up very well.
Skirret, also a root plant which means hardy for winter, is said to taste like carrot.
Scorzonera is another root vegetable that tastes a bit like an artichoke.
Rocambole is another name for a shallot, which can still be found in many modern markets.
Elecampane or ‘elf wort’ is one of those medicinal herbs from ancient times, said to be good for ‘lung issues’.
Samphire does still show up in English cooking, and grows in marshy areas. It is from the parsley family, looks like baby asparagus, and has a crisp, salty taste.
Wild services refers to a small, edible, pear-like fruits from a tree native to England that is now rare.
Haws are the red berries from the Hawthorn tree.
‘Pine’ means a pineapple, which are touchy to grow in England (they do look a bit like a pinecone).
Filberts is another name for hazelnuts, and nuts in shells used to be a common thing in many stores, but now everything seems to come in a can or a jar.
Cloud-berries (or cloudberries) are bright, amber-colored fruits similar to cranberries in that they are tart and need water to thrive. They were once common in England, but not so much anymore.

Loudon speaks of the open garden, a fruit-room, and the forcing-room. The latter would be some sort of hot house or glass-house that allowed for heating to extend the growing season. His spellings and variations on capitalization are also left in place here—standardization of such things is a more modern idea. He does mention some plants if not ruined by rain or frost, which would be common problems, and use of frames (anything placed over a plant to protect it from frost—this could be a large glass jar or burlap or a large metal bell).

Pickling and storing in such places as a herb room, or in barrels in a cold place would be common, as in a ‘fruit-cellar’ or any cold room. As already noted, food storage—potting, pickling, and otherwise preserving—was a vital necessity, along with making certain you got the bugs (called vermine by period sources) off anything grown outside.

Loudon includes general notes, too, for agricultural tasks set out for the year, but let’s just look at the first of the year. I do have to say I would adore a garden large enough to have a ‘forcing department’.

JANUARY

Dealing with rot (in animal hooves and plants), Weaning pigs, Fence work, Fattening Beasts (oil cake and corn), Liming, Improvements, Pruning.

Vegetables from the open Garden or Garden Stores. Strasburg cabbage, savoys, borecoles, Brussels’ sprouts. Kidney beans for haricots, and Prussian and other peas. Potatoes, Jerusalem artichokes, turnip, carrot, parsnip, red beet, skirret, scorzonera, and salsify, from the seed-room. Spinach in mild seasons; also sorrel and white beet. Onions, leeks, garlick, shallot, and rocambole. Sea-kale from the covered beds. Lettuce, endive, celery, American and winter-cress. Parsley, if protected, horse-radish, and dried fennel, dill, chervil, &c. Thyme, sage, rosemary, lavender, from the open garden, and dried marjoram, savory, mint, basil, &c. from the herb-room. Rhubarb-stalks from covered roots; anise, coriander and carraway seeds, chamomile, elecampane, blessed thistle, &c. dried. Red cabbage and samphire. Wild rocket, wild spinach, sauce-alone, and sorrel, if a mild winter. Mushrooms from covered ridges. Sea-belt, or sweet fucus, dried.

Four clay pots on dirt near a garden wall — Rhubarb forcing pots From geograph.org.uk

Hardy Fruits from the Open Garden, Orchard, or Fruit-Room. Apples, pears, quinces, medlars, services from the fruit-room. Some plums and morello cherries, carefully preserved on the trees. Some thick-skinned gooseberries, currants, and grapes, preserved on the trees. Some dried fruits of the same sorts on branches hung up in the fruit-room. Almonds, walnuts, chestnuts, filberts from the fruit-room. Sloes from the bushes, wild services, hips, haws, and sometimes a few cloud-berries.

A well occupied library opens into a glasshouse with plants. One child looks at a large book held by an adult. A lady holds large harp. A young couple sit by a table while older folks read. In the glasshouse several couples and a lady with a child tour the plants. — Glasshouse design by Humphry Repton, 1816 from Fragments on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening

Culinary Vegetables and Fruits from the forcing Department. Kidney beans. Potatoes. Sea-kale. Small salads. Parsley, Fennel. Rhuharb. Mushrooms. Pines, winter melons, grapes, strawberries, cucumbers occasionally. Oranges, olives, and pomegranates. Malay apple, loquats, and lee-chees. Yams, and Spanish potatoes.