Riana Everly's Blog, page 7

Death of Clergyman by Riana Everly

Thanks for this wonderful review!

From Pemberley to Milton

Death of a Clergyman is the first book in the Miss Mary Investigates series and can be read as a standalone story, however, I highly recommend starting by its prequel, The Mystery of the Missing Heiress, which is a small novella (currently free) that introduces to us an original character who will be crucial in Death of a Clergyman. I’ve read this prequel and absolutely loved not only the main character but also the writing style, and how the author was able to build the plot, so my expectations towards Death of a Clergyman were very high.

In Death of a Clergyman Mr. Collins is found dead and Elizabeth is accused of his murder. When Mr. Darcy hears the news, he immediately reaches out to Alexander Lyons, the private investigator we are introduced to in the novella, and hires him to investigate the murder of Mr. Collins and prove Elizabeth’s innocence. Both…

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My Austen Authors Blog Post

Here in Canada it’s winter, and winter means ice. And other than mixing cocktails, the only good use for ice is skating, right? Here’s what I have to say about it on my blog post at Austen Authors.

https://austenauthors.net/a-slippery-situation/

It is now mid-January, and in any other year my thoughts would be drifting eastward towards Ottawa. For some reason my family has decided that Toronto is not cold enough in winter, and that we have to take ourselves somewhere even colder to participate in an annual February festival called Winterlude. Ottawa boasts, among other things, the fabulous Rideau Canal (that’s for another post), which freezes in the winter and becomes a many-miles-long skating rink.

The ice rink on the Rideau Canal, Ottawa, Canada

This year, for obvious reasons, we are not going. But my mind still drifts to ice skating.

I will be honest here. I can skate. I have spent a great deal of time on the ice, with little metal blades strapped to the bottoms of my feet. I have skated the 8km length of the Rideau rink and lived to tell the tale. But I hate it. My feet start to scream in pain when I even look at a pair of ice skates, and I am old enough that I would rather enjoy winter from the inside of a warm building while drinking hot chocolate than from the middle of a frozen stretch of water. And still, I can’t stop thinking about it.

And so I started down the rabbit hole. Here are a few tidbits from what I found.

It’s hard to pinpoint when people first took to the ice. In northern climates, moving across frozen lakes on some sort of blade was much more efficient than walking that same distance. Early skates might have been more like snowboards, requiring poles to propel the skater across the ice, and some of the oldest skates found, mostly in Scandinavia and Russia, are more than 5000 years old.

It is not known when skating first came to Britain. The first account of the activity in England was not recorded until 1173, when William FitzStephen wrote in his account of London life,

When the great fenne or moore (which watereth the walles of the citie on the North side) is frozen, many young men play upon the yce, some striding as wide as they may, doe slide swiftly (…) some tye bones to their feete, and under their heeles, and shoving themselves by a little picked staffe, doe slide as swiftly as birde flyeth in the aire, or an arrow out of a crossbow.

Bone skates were tied to the bottoms of boots with leather cordsThese skates from the late 18th century show the solid wooden platform. They were also attached to the skater’s boots with leather straps.

By 1250 the Dutch had developed metal blades to replace the bone of earlier years, and some design tweaks and skating technique gave skaters a great deal more agility and flexibility on the ice and dispensed with the need for poles to propel themselves along. These metal blades were attached to a flat wooden block. The skater strapped the entire contraption to the bottom of his boots and then could glide down canals and waterways to his heart’s content.

Lidwina’s fall on the ice by Johannes Brugman, 1498

By now skating was a source of recreation as well as transportation. Men, women, and children all took to the ice for pleasure and exercise. In 1395 the young Dutch girl Lidwina of Schiedam broke a rib while ice skating. She was 15 years old. The rib never healed properly, and she grew progressively more disabled. It is said that after her fall she could not take food, but fasted constantly, and soon acquired fame as a healer and holy woman. She was canonized in 1890 and is the patron saint of ice skaters.

Skating was a popular winter activity in Georgian and Regency-era Britain, as well as across the Continent where the weather allowed. The world’s first skating club was created in Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1742, with a focus on figure skating. Indeed, the first book on figure skating was written by Robert Jones in 1772. Speed skating remained more of a Continental activity; the first known race was held in the Netherlands in 1676.

Here are a few drawings and paintings of Regency-era ice skaters.

January, 1820Skating Lovers, Adam Buck,1800 (c)The Trustees of the British MuseumThe Timid Pupil, 1800The Skating Minister, Henry Raeburn, 1790s

Moving across the ocean, some stories assert that the modern game of hockey was invented in Windsor, Nova Scotia around 1800, when some students at King’s College took to the frozen pond with their skates to play a game of shinny. Another story suggests that British officers brought the sport with them from England. In 2002, researchers discovered two letters by Sir John Franklin, written in 1825, mentioning hockey being played on ice, although there is no mention of whether the players wore skates or just boots.

There is also evidence that games of ice hockey were played by British soldiers on Chippewa Creek in Niagara (coincidentally where my husband grew up) in 1839. Sir Richard George Augustus Levigne wrote about these games in his memoires (discovered only in 2008), that,

Large parties contested games of hockey on the ice, some forty or fifty being ranged on each side.

His memoires, unlike Franklin’s, are explicit in that the players wore skates.

To leave off, here is a lovely painting I found of ice skaters and other winter revelers in Toronto in 1835. The windmill in the distance is no longer there, but the area was soon to be developed into a huge distillery complex by James Worts and his brother-in-law, William Gooderham originally of Diss, England. The area is now a popular entertainment district, with buildings dating back to the 1860s, positively ancient in this part of the world.

Winter Scene on Toronto Bay, William Armstrong, 1835

Do you skate? Do you enjoy winter sports? Or are you going to join me in front of the fire with a mug of cocoa and a good book? I’d love to hear about your wintertime adventures.

Here is a short excerpt from my upcoming mystery, Death in Highbury, the second in my Miss Mary Investigates series.

It was not Alexander Lyons whom she met on the lane leading to Highbury, however, but rather, Frank Churchill. He stepped out of the front door at Randalls just as she was approaching the part of the lane where the short drive diverged from it, and she wondered if he had been watching from the window in anticipation of her arrival.

The thought was both troublesome and appealing.

“Walking towards the village, Miss Bennet?” he executed a deep and elaborate bow, twirling his hat not twice but three times before resetting it upon his perfectly coiffed head. 

“As you see, Mr. Churchill.” Her curtsey was simple and quick. Then, careful not to give offence, she added, “The weather is fine again today. Is it always so fair in Surrey? I have seen hardly a cloud in all the time I have been here.”

“‘Tis you who have brought the sunshine, Miss Bennet! For I cannot believe the clouds would dare show their faces when you are present.” The man certainly was a master of flirtation! “But in all candour, I cannot speak much of the climate when you are absent, for I myself have been but little in Highbury. I was raised by my aunt, as you certainly know, and can be away only when she can spare me. How fortunate that she and my uncle have taken a house so near, that I may ride here almost every day.” He gestured down the laneway in a silent supplication, and Mary accepted by taking the offered arm. 

She strove to seek some topic safe and suitable for light chatter whilst they walked, and quickly decided that the weather would serve as well as anything. “The clouds do not seem perturbed by my presence in Hertfordshire,” she spoke lightly. “We very often will have a succession of four or five days of rain, with little interlude in which to take some air. It is less taxing in the cold of winter than in summer, for one may walk in the snow if one wears suitable boots, but to walk in the rain is seldom a pleasure.”

“Ah, the snow! At Enscombe, where I was raised by my uncle and aunt, we saw a great deal of snow. Do you enjoy it, Miss Bennet? Do you, perhaps, skate upon the ice? I can picture you now, wrapped in a warm cape of the finest white cashmere, a pink winter bonnet upon your head… no, not pink.” He peered closely at her, until she felt herself growing as pink as the imagined hat. “You could never look anything but lovely, but green, rather, would better suit your colouring. Yes, a beautiful pine-green winter bonnet. But we may trim it with pink flowers, should you desire! I can see you gliding across the ice with a skill rarely seen, making figures and moving with grace and ease. And upon your feet, pretty fur-lined black boots made especially to keep you warm in the cold air, and over your hands, the largest ermine-fur muff that ever you have seen!”

Mary could not stop the bubble of laughter that this image occasioned. 

“My dear lady? Do you object?” Frank’s beam betrayed his jest.

“Only at the muff, sir! I have often seen ladies carrying such large ones that I believe they might crawl inside and fit their entire bodies within! A nice pair of gloves will do very well instead.”

“As you command, Miss Bennet!”

A Slippery Situation

An Interview

I am delighted to visit Jane Hinchey’s always-interesting newsletter today, where she interviews me. Please pop over and see what we discussed.

And if cozy mystery and fantasy is your thing, definitely see what she has on her own pages.

https://janehinchey.com/author-interview-riana-everly/

A Double Birthday

Jane Austen

December 16th is celebrated in the literary world as the birthday of English author Jane Austen. She was born on this date in 1775 in Steventon, Hampshire, where her father was the rector.

In the musical world, this same date is often commemorated as the birthday of composer Ludwig van Beethoven. His exact date of birth is unknown, but he was baptised on December 17, 1770, and scholars have made best guesses. Considering his presumed birthday buddy, I cannot think of a better day to celebrate his birth as well.

Ludwig van Beethoven

These two people, close in age but a world apart, stand as luminaries in their artistic fields. Love her or hate her (but really, love her), Jane Austen’s wit, keen eye, and brilliant prose, defined an era in English literature. Oh, to be in possession of a pen that could produce some of her zingers! Likewise, what would music be without Beethoven? I am hard pressed to state my favourite composer, but Beethoven is going to feature on pretty much any list I produce. His music bridged the Classical and Romantic eras of music, bringing form and precision into perfect harmony with the more personal and dramatic style of the later 19th century.

Here is an excerpt from the 1995 BBC production of Pride and Prejudice, where Georgiana Darcy sits down at the pianoforte to entertain the guests at Pemberley. She is said to play the harp and the keyboard and has just received a new pianoforte as a gift from her brother. The piece she plays is Beethoven’s Andante favori in F major. It was originally meant to be the middle movement of the Waldstein sonata, opus 53 (1803), but upon realising the movement was too long for that work, he turned it into an independent piece.

https://youtu.be/_GHm4MK6F1Y?t=83

Masquerade – a short story

I had a great NaNo month and wrote a really fun novel that takes our dear couple just a bit out of their comfort zones and tosses a bit of Shakespeare into the mix, just for fun. The story came together well and I was almost finished my first round of edits when the inevitable happened:

A plot bunny came hopping through my head.

Plot bunnies are tricky creatures, and generally don’t leave you alone until you satisfy them, and so I temporarily abandoned my editing and sat down to write a short story.

Here is the result.

It’s a very modern piece, taking place pretty much exactly today, in Toronto, the city where I live. There are masks, social distancing, Zoom calls, and some familiar characters. I hope you enjoy what the plot bunny brought.

Here is the first part. You can read the rest as a PDF on-line, or you can download a PDF to read on a device off-line.

Masquerade – A Short Story

Riana Everly (c) 2020

CHAR: Hey Lizzy, are you going to the party?

ELIZABETH: Ugh, Char! I dunno. It will just be another long, boring Zoom meeting.

CHAR: Her Ladyship commands us. You have to come. I can’t deal with Billy alone.

ELIZABETH: I cannot believe Mrs deB actually mailed us all party hats to wear. And with instructions on how to put them together and how to wear them!

CHAR: OMG, those directions on how to wear them! LOL

ELIZABETH: “The hats must be worn at exactly this angle to promote a sense of frivolity, while not descending into intimations of inebriation.”

ELIZABETH: Is this woman for real?

CHAR: That’s Mrs. de Bourgh for ya! She’s all kinds of nutty, but she’s the boss. So you’ll be there?

ELIZABETH: Double ugh. 

CHAR: BYOB. You can tell them it’s just coffee, but I’ll know it’s Scotch in your mug.

ELIZABETH: That’s what BFFs are for.

An hour later

Elizabeth stared at her blank computer screen. Did she really have to join this ridiculous farce of a holiday party? She spent all day, every day, staring into that electronic void, whether participating in meetings or engaged in her work. A so-called holiday party seemed like anything but fun right now. 

She pushed her chair back and paced around the room. Her muscles were aching for exercise, a respite from that chair that was her prison for so many hours a day. And yet, she sighed, she was fortunate to have that prison. During these long months of lockdown and social isolation, she was fortunate to have a job, and a good one at that. In fact, her company had been busier than usual since the world screeched to a halt in March and everything moved on-line. As a company that specialized in process optimization, they were more in demand than ever, helping small businesses navigate this new world of limited physical presence and increased virtual operations.

She had a pretty great boss too, no matter how quirky and controlling the woman could be. When some of their smaller clients started suffering during the first weeks of the shutdown, Catherine de Bourgh had cut her rates in half, but had kept paying her staff their full salaries from her own personal fortune. For that, Elizabeth was willing to put up with the woman’s peculiar ways.

She sat down again and flicked at her mouse. The dull grey of the screen brightened into the workspace with her current client’s files open. This was a small florist, trying to work out how to stay in business when they could not have customers in the shop. This was one of the businesses her company had helped with their lower rates, and they were now thriving despite almost a year of uncertainty, thanks in a large part to Mrs. deB.

Yes, Catherine de Bourgh was a strange and most particular woman, but she was a good and fair boss.

Very well. For that, Elizabeth would put up with another Zoom meeting… er, party.

She found her silly hat and put it together as Mrs. de Bourgh had instructed in the parcel and then poured herself a large glub of Scotch in her usual coffee cup. 

She caught sight of herself in the reflective glass on one of her cabinets. Hair in a no-nonsense ponytail, drab sweater that had been old when she got it from her sister years ago, ratty sweatpants and fuzzy slippers greeted her.

Very well. She shuffled into her bedroom and exchanged her clothing for something a bit brighter. She found a red sweater with a pretty collar and exchanged her sweatpants for slightly newer ones and then brushed out her hair and added a hair band to keep its shape. She even ducked into the bathroom and patted on a touch of makeup and lipstick! When had she last worn lipstick? Certainly not for months, for every trip outside involved a mask, and nobody would see her mouth at all.

There. She took in her new image. That looked a little more celebratory. A pair of sparkly earrings that her sister Jane had sent her for her birthday, and the look was as complete as it would be. Satisfied, she put her fuzzy slippers on again and shuffled back to the office to log in to her boring meeting… er, party.

The screen brightened again as she logged into the party and the familiar grid of faces appeared. There was Char with her mug of… coffee? And Mrs. deB, and her protégé Billy. What did Billy do anyway? Elizabeth had never really been certain. There was Anant and there was Malika, and Ben, the new intern. Everyone wore a silly hat, all perched at exactly the right angle. Maximum frivolity: achieved.

There came the usual sporadic chit-chat as people waited in turn to speak, and some serious tut-tutting from Mrs. deB as the conversation verged towards shop talk. And then something strange happened.

A new tile appeared on the screen, with the name Liam D.

“Hey guys, we have a party-crasher!” Anant joked. “Who’s Liam? Did he bring beer?”

The black tile resolved into a dark-haired man with thick tortoise-shell glasses and a heavy beard. Ugh. A hipster. All he needed was the man-bun. Elizabeth forced herself not to roll her eyes.

“Friends,” Mrs. deB interrupted the questions. “I have an announcement. In light of our current success and the predictions for continued instability in the business sector over the next year or two, I have decided to investigate expanding our company’s reach. To that end, I have taken on a new executive officer to guide our visioning efforts. Please welcome Liam D’arcy to the team.”

Oh great. A hipster executive with a chi-chi name. He would be a bundle of fun. With everybody working from home, he wouldn’t even be introducing good coffee or organic keto treats to the office kitchen. Elizabeth forced a smile onto her face.

The new guy just stared out of the screen. Could he speak?

“Liam has an MBA and a doctorate in process management,” boss-lady spoke into the silence. “He has several years experience in a sister company in Ottawa,” she named an organization which Elizabeth knew well, “and we are fortunate to have convinced him to move back to Toronto.”

Silence.

Did Dr. Hipster know how to speak? Were personality classes not part of his extensive education or professional achievements?

“He is also,” Mrs. deB went on, “my nephew. I expect you all to welcome him heartily and give him whatever assistance and support he needs as he learns the ins and outs of our organization.”

Fabulous. Nepotism at its finest. Hopefully he would not cause too much disruption in the company. For all of her boss’ idiosyncrasies, Mrs. deB ran a tight organization and there was a lot of camaraderie amongst the employees. They were as much a group of friends as co-workers, and Elizabeth almost hurt when she realized how long it had been since she had seen these people in person.

“Greetings.” The hipster could talk. His voice was wooden and totally without warmth. “I shall set up meetings with each of you over the next weeks so we can introduce ourselves one-on-one.” Friendly fellow, wasn’t he? “And I have one thing to add to the introduction. I might be Mrs de Bourgh’s nephew, but rest assured, I’m the best in the business.”

Elizabeth took a deep drink from her coffee mug. 

The little square of light brightened around Billy’s tile, indicating that he was speaking. “Am I to presume then, Dr. D’arcy, that you will be giving extra guidance to our analyst Elizabeth, since she is the one most intimately involved with the product development and delivery that our clients have come to expect from Mrs. de Bourgh’s great company?”

Elizabeth bit back a retort. What boots had this sycophant licked to become Mrs deB’s protégé? He did nothing but kowtow and brown-nose. And now he was suggesting that she could not do her job without a big brother holding her hand.

Her frustration disappeared in a moment though, fading into nothing against the fury Dr. Hipster aroused by his response.

“If Elizabeth is unable to perform these tasks, that is for her manager to assess. I am here to deal with much higher-level issues; I do not have time to guide junior staff as they learn their tasks.”

It took everything she had not to hurl her mug at the computer screen. Only the thought of that wasted Scotch stopped her. Junior staff? Learn their tasks? She was the company’s expert and leader of her team, and she no more needed this stuffed shirt’s guidance than a bird needed a parachute. 

She reached for her phone to text Char, but a private message appeared on the computer screen.

Hold it in, Lizzy. Call me later and we’ll rip him to shreds in private.

She took another glug from her coffee mug and shot arrows of hatred from her eyes at that annoying man’s tile on the screen.

Read the whole story on-line here
Download the PDF here

Light a Flame

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Once again this year, I am delighted to have a short story in an anthology published by The New Romance Café. The collection is called A Winter Romance, and all proceeds go to breast cancer research.

All the stories are historical, and I have, again, written a story based around Chanukah. This time, my characters are snow-bound in a house near Glasgow. The weather is cold and the roads are blocked, but the Chanukah candles burn bright. There is a grumpy injured musician, a young woman healer, a small child, a good cook, and a cat who keeps getting into trouble.

Readers are loving the anthology. Here is what one reviewer said about my story:

LIGHT A FLAME
A Chanukah Short Story
By Riana Everly

FIVE STARS+

I absolutely loved this story. It had all but one of the elements that I look for in romances. It had fantastic characters, some feels, realizations, and a happy ending. The one element it was missing was complete character descriptions. We got eye color on Daniel and Miriam and a good description of Joey, but I wanted to see more than what I got of Daniel and Miriam. Normally, I would take away a star for that, but the story itself was enough to carry this to a satisfying ending.

Miriam is a healer and called to her friend’s house because her friend’s son, Joey, had fallen and dislocated his shoulder. When she gets to the house, she is met by her friend’s brother, Daniel, who thinks she’s incapable of any sort of medical knowledge and puts up a fight in letting her treat Joey. Considering it’s snowing, the “real” doctor is out of town, there’s not much of a choice.

Daniel has an injury of his own in his wrist. He’s a musician and the pain is keeping him from playing and performing. He’s staying with his sister to get a rest, but it isn’t getting any better yet he refuses to let Miriam look at it, despite the success she’s had with little Joey. The pain is making him rude and mean and only on rare occasions does Miriam see that he’s not that way at all.

There is some chemistry between Miriam and Daniel that I found enjoyable. Top that off with this story being of Chanukah rather than Christmas, this whole thing was a delight. I think the author did an excellent job of describing the traditions and rituals of the season, including the treats of fried food and the Menorah. I loved that best. It was so different and unlike other stories and novels I’ve read.

Bravo or should I say Mazel Tov!

How can I argue with a review like that?

You can read Light a Flame and all the other holiday- and winter-based stories in the anthology, A Winter Romance.

You can get the anthology here: https://www.amazon.com/Winter-Romance-Caf%C3%A9-Collection-Book-ebook/dp/B08LYCXDW9

And don’t forget, all proceeds from sales or KU reads go towards breast cancer research.

Review of The Bennet Affair

Here’s a lovely review of The Bennet Affair at the wonderful blog Austenesque Reviews.

[image error] The Bennet Affair: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

“With The Bennet Affair, Riana Everly skillfully crafts an exciting Pride and Prejudice variation about espionage, hidden rooms, and falling in love with the enemy! This variation is a perfect choice for readers who enjoy Pride and Prejudice stories with unique premises and rich historical backdrop, and also those who would love the idea of Mr. Darcy being a spy!”

Austenesque Reviews

https://austenesquereviews.com/2020/11/the-bennet-affair-riana-everly.html

Blog Tour – Polish up the Silverware

The final stop on my blog tour for Death of a Clergyman is at Austenesque Reviews, always a delightful blog to read. In the story, Mr. Collins’ murder is not the only strange thing going on in Meryton – it seems silverware is disappearing from Netherfield Park as well! What type of silverware? Let’s take a look!

https://austenesquereviews.com/2020/10/guest-post-giveaway-with-author-riana-everly-3.html

Blog Tour: CSI, Regency-style

Today I’m stopping in at Diary of an Eccentric on my blog tour for Death of a Clergyman. There, I’m chatting a bit about detection techniques and forensics, and where the science was in 1811!

Don’t forget to comment on the post there for a chance to win a copy of the book!

https://diaryofaneccentric.wordpress.com/2020/10/26/death-of-a-clergyman-by-riana-everly-guest-post-excerpt-giveaway/

Regency-era Baseball… and beyond

Today my post at Austen Authors talks a bit about early mentions of baseball and a bit of the history of the game.

Taketh Me Out to the Ball Game