Camy Tang's Blog, page 79

The Spinster's Christmas - Chapter 6c #Christianfiction #Regency #romance

I’m posting my Regency romance, The Spinster's Christmas , so all my blog readers get a chance to read it! It’s the Prequel novel to my Lady Wynwood’s Spies series.

A Regency romantic mystery

Miranda Belmoore has never felt attuned to the rest of society. Her family has never understood her blunt speech and unwillingness to bow to conventional strictures, and so they have always made her feel that there is something wrong with her. Now as a poor relation in her cousin’s house, she makes plans to escape a life of drudgery and disdain from her own family members.

Naval Captain Gerard Foremont is having difficulty adjusting to life back on land, frustrated that his career has been cut short by his severely injured knee. Guilt haunts him as he sees the strain his long convalescence has had upon his parents. As they spend Christmastide with the Belmoores, he wants to help fulfill his mother’s wish to have her orphaned niece come to stay with them.

However, an enemy has infiltrated the family party, bent on revenge and determined that Twelfth Night will end in someone’s death …

All the posted parts are listed here.

***
Chapter 6c

The doors opened and the butler entered with a mound of raisins in a large shallow bowl. A footman lit a taper from the fire and set the brandy-soaked fruit ablaze.

Oooh rose from the children as the blue flame blazed in the darkness, turning the butler’s staid face rather sinister. As he placed the bowl upon a low table in the centre of the room, it was the adults who led the traditional song:

Here comes the flaming bowl,
Don’t he mean to take his toll,
Snip! Snap! Dragon!
Take care you don’t take too much,
Be not greedy in your clutch,
Snip! Snap! Dragon!

Then adults and children alike gathered round for a game of Snapdragon, with each person reaching in to snatch a flaming raisin and eat it without being burned. Servants hovered nearby, ready to douse any inadvertent fires set by dropped raisins.

In the darkness, Gerard contrived to sneak away from Miss Church-Pratton and move about the dark room, straining to see each of the people in shadow. Then he saw Miranda, seated by the window with a bundle in her arms. As he approached, he saw that Ellie was asleep on her lap.

“You will not allow her to play Snapdragon?” he asked.

“Most certainly not,” she retorted.

“I seem to recall that we played at a fairly young age.”

“And at that tender age, you burned both your sleeve and your eyebrows, do you recall?”

He laughed. “I had forgotten.”

She looked at the blue light in the centre of the room, which flickered as people moved in front of it. “I like the light. It is mysterious and lovely. But I admit I like it better from a distance.” She turned her face toward him, and even in the darkness he could see the gleam of her smile.

He answered with one of his own, and he reached out to touch her cheek because it seemed the most natural and necessary thing for him to do. As in the carriage when he had touched her hand, he wanted to be connected to her in a powerful way that he could not understand.

Her skin trembled beneath his fingers, and then she turned her face away.

He suddenly felt awkward and large. He clasped his hands in front of him, then behind him, then he shifted his feet, except that he put too much weight on his injured knee. He winced.

“Does it hurt you?” she asked.

He didn’t know how she could have known, in the dark. “It is stiff.”

“I shall send the poultice to you after I put Ellie to bed.” She made as if to rise, but he remembered why he had sought her out.

“Stay. I have a question to ask you.” He didn’t need to, but he put a hand on her shoulder—again, that desire to touch her. He left it there for a moment, even after she had settled back into the chair, Ellie still fast asleep in her arms.

“Have you thought more about the woman?”

“Yes.” As usual, she surprised him. “I have wondered if perhaps the attack was not by chance. But …”

When she did not continue, he said, “You are very insightful. I should like to hear your thoughts. Can you think of anyone who would wish to harm you?”

She hesitated longer than he would have expected, but then said, “No. I have no family and no fortune. I had one season in London and have spent the rest of my life in the country, first with my parents and then with Cecil.”

“But we cannot dismiss the possibility simply because we cannot think of a good motivation. You must be careful.”

She looked up at him again, and although he couldn’t see her eyes, something made him feel rather fevered. He added, “After all, Ellie is often with you. I am concerned for both of you, of course. It was only by chance that she was nearer to me in the forest, and that you were farther away from the rest of the party.”

“Of course.” Her voice sounded hollow. She rose to her feet, carrying Ellie. “If you will excuse me, I must be awake early to help Felicity with the preparations for the ball tomorrow.” The Christmas Day ball had been a tradition at Wintrell Hall much like the kissing bough.

He didn’t want her to leave him. “It sounds as though Felicity has invited all the county.”

“There are more guests this year than last year. We have hired twice the usual number of local people to help tomorrow.” She suddenly stiffened.

“What is it?” He moved closer to her.

Miranda turned, and they stood close to one another, face to face, Ellie’s sleeping form between them. He could smell lavender and lemon, soothing and yet also tart, like her.

“The villagers all know me,” she said in a low voice. “None of them would have attacked me because they all know I am a poor relation and have nothing of value. So it must have been someone newly come to the village.”

“I could make inquiries, determine whether anyone has arrived recently.”

“They will hardly speak to you, especially if it is someone who knows the woman who attacked me. Can you send your valet?”

“I am sharing my father’s man, and the local residents know him well because of my father’s longtime friendship with Mr. Belmoore.”

“Is there another servant? A stranger? Someone the woman would not know is connected to the Belmoores.”

“There is no other servant here with us who would be suitable, but …” He suddenly knew who he could use. “I will think of something.”

She smiled calmly, not needling him for more information or pouting that he would not confide in her. “Good night, Gerard.”

“Good night, Miranda.”

He watched her leave, still carrying Ellie, and then he left the drawing room through another door. He knocked on the door to the library, then opened it to an empty room.

Seating himself at Cecil’s desk, he took out a quill and paper and proceeded to write.

***
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Qimen Caixia black tea review - Mastersteas.com by @AdagioTeas

I got a chance to review this Chinese black tea from MastersTeas.com. It’s not what I would normally drink, and it’s much finer in quality than what I drink at Chinese restaurants, so it was a fun new experience.

From the website:

Qimen Caixia or “Sunrise Keemun” is a unique black tea made from early spring leaves which are gently rolled to create a whole leaf tea. The semi wiry leaves do contain some tips as well. The dry aroma offers the classic Keemun orchid note. The cup itself is a medium-light bodied one that is delicate, sweet and complex with notes of orchid, honey and toast. While it is rather delicate, it presents a nuanced experience with a soft finish.

About the leaves:

Grown between 800 and 1200 meters above sea level this Twig Leaf cultivar was hand plucked at the end of April from 60-year-old trees. Known locally as "keemun maofeng", is consists of one bud and two or three leaves approximately 2-3 cm in length.

This tea contains a high level of caffeine | Steep at 212° for 2-3 minutes.

The tea had a pleasant, slightly malty scent when opening the bag. I steeped 1 airy tablespoon in 500 mL 212°F water for 3 minutes.

It made a light colored black tea, but full of flavor. It had a slightly malty taste and a very soft and mellow mouth feel.

It tasted very smooth with a little milk, although the milk masked the flavor a bit so that it tasted a little watery.

With a Japanese cookie, it was tasty. Then I decided to try this (without milk) with salty food instead, and so I made another pot to drink this tea with my lunch, which was coq au vin, and it really complimented the savory food much better than with the cookie.

I think that this tea (without milk) would go well with spicy food, although I couldn’t test it because my stomach hasn’t been handling spicy foods very well lately. I definitely prefer this tea with savory foods rather than sweet. If I’d had some Chinese food in the fridge, I’d have tried that paired with this tea, because I think it would have gone well with it. And yet I could tell this was a much finer quality tea than what I drink in Chinese restaurants, so it would have been really nice to drink it with a Chinese dinner.

So, my impressions is that this is a good tea to drink with dinner or lunch. It’s a light tea, so it would go well with a lighter meal.

The Spinster's Christmas - Chapter 6b #Christianfiction #Regency #romance

I’m posting my Regency romance, The Spinster's Christmas , so all my blog readers get a chance to read it! It’s the Prequel novel to my Lady Wynwood’s Spies series.

A Regency romantic mystery

Miranda Belmoore has never felt attuned to the rest of society. Her family has never understood her blunt speech and unwillingness to bow to conventional strictures, and so they have always made her feel that there is something wrong with her. Now as a poor relation in her cousin’s house, she makes plans to escape a life of drudgery and disdain from her own family members.

Naval Captain Gerard Foremont is having difficulty adjusting to life back on land, frustrated that his career has been cut short by his severely injured knee. Guilt haunts him as he sees the strain his long convalescence has had upon his parents. As they spend Christmastide with the Belmoores, he wants to help fulfill his mother’s wish to have her orphaned niece come to stay with them.

However, an enemy has infiltrated the family party, bent on revenge and determined that Twelfth Night will end in someone’s death …

All the posted parts are listed here.

***
Chapter 6b

He determined not to summon Dr. Morgan if his knee grew worse, and to do all he could to prevent the man from coming near Miranda or Ellie. “How is Ellie?”

“She woke several hours ago, and while she is quieter than usual, she seems to be well. I left her playing jack-straws with her cousins.”

“I am glad.” He had never felt so alarmed as when he had looked at Ellie and seen blood on her face. Although the sight of Miranda on the ground had made his heart stop in his chest.

“No, to the other right,” his mother told the servant.

“The kissing bough looks nice,” Gerard said, immediately regretting how inane that sounded. Earlier, Felicity had grown impatient with Miranda because she was not draping the greenery in the dining room as quickly as she wished, and so she had assigned to her the task of creating the kissing bough. Miranda had twined the mistletoe upon the wire frames with scarlet ribbons and roses made from twisted red paper. Stars cut from gold paper peeked out from under the dark green leaves and pearly white berries.

“Thank you,” Miranda said. Miss Church-Pratton would have laughed and teased him, but Miranda accepted his words without judgment on how foolish he sounded. “Your knee is paining you?” She stated it calmly, already knowing the answer.

“No, I am—”

“There is a poultice I can make for you that will soothe it. I shall give it to your man later.”

He wanted to say that he was well and in no need of any poultices, but Miranda was known for her skill in the stillroom. If it would indeed ease the pain, he ought not to indulge his pride and act like a muttonhead. Say thank you, Gerard. “Er … thank you, Miranda.”

“You are welcome.”

No fussing. No censure. Just a poultice for his knee. Miranda put him at ease like no one else had cared to do.

He caught his mother looking at them both, but the expression on her face was difficult to interpret. Some alarm—Gerard had not forgotten the embarrassing insinuation that Miranda would attempt to ensnare him just as Miss Church-Pratton seemed to be doing—but also some confusion, perhaps a thread of guilt. No, he must be mistaken about that. His mother looked away again.

“Why would that woman attack you when there were so many people nearby?” he asked.

“I had wandered away from all of you,” she said.

“We were fortunate that Ellie had lost sight of you and become alarmed. I went to look for you, and none too soon.”

“It is also fortunate that I had nothing for her to steal.”

“Now it is time to test it.” It was his father, just come into the drawing room and admiring the kissing bough, which the servant had finally hung to his mother’s specifications.

His father snatched his mother’s hand and yanked her under the kissing bough. She gave a surprised yelp, then a delighted gurgle. He kissed her firmly on the lips, then reached up to remove one of the berries. When all the berries were gone, there would be no more stolen kisses.

Cecil looked scandalised but resigned, for there had always been a kissing bough at Wintrell Hall for as long as the Belmoores had celebrated Christmas there.

“It’s almost time!” came a call from outside the drawing room. They all trooped to the doorway to the dining room, where Cecil held a large wax candle that had been decorated with gilt paper round its base.

Children came down the stairs to gather with the adults, and Cecil looked with pride at the assembly. He did enjoy theatrics when it made him look important.

“It is sunset, and now we will light the Yule candle,” he intoned. He led the way into the dining room, which had been magnificently decorated and set for the Christmas Eve feast. To accommodate all the guests, including the children, chairs had been shoved close to each other around the long table.

The guests stopped at the door while Cecil bore the candle to a special glass candle holder in the centre of the table. A servant approached with a lit taper, and with great solemnity, Cecil lit the candle.

“Happy Christmas,” he said, as though at a funeral.

In contrast, everyone responded with a rousing, “Happy Christmas!”

“May we be blessed by the light of the Yule candle,” Cecil said.

It did indeed look beautiful on the table. It was large enough that it would burn until dawn Christmas morning. Cecil would extinguish the flame just before the entire household left for church.

Everyone filed around the table with many smiles and appreciative sniffs at the feast to come. They all stood behind their chairs, waiting for everyone to find their places, and then at Cecil’s signal, they all sat to table at the same time. It had always been so. As a child, Gerard had been told it was to prevent bad luck.

He again found himself seated next to Miss Church-Pratton. Everyone was squeezed rather tightly together, but she seemed to rub her arm against his shoulder much more than Liliana, one of Mrs. Hathaway’s daughters still in the schoolroom, on his other side.

The meal was generous, with roast goose, boar’s head, venison, chicken, and turkey. There were more vegetable dishes than he could see from his seat, including potatoes, parsnips, Brussels sprouts, and carrots, as well as stuffing. The meal tomorrow night would be even more lavish.

Also according to tradition, everyone rose from the table at the same time. No after-dinner port and cigars for the gentlemen—everyone gathered in the drawing room. The tension of anticipation filled the room as the servants doused the candles, and then came a moment of breathless silence.

***
Buy The Spinster’s Christmas ebook for only $0.99!
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The Spinster's Christmas - Chapter 6a #Christianfiction #Regency #romance

I’m posting my Regency romance, The Spinster's Christmas , so all my blog readers get a chance to read it! It’s the Prequel novel to my Lady Wynwood’s Spies series.

A Regency romantic mystery

Miranda Belmoore has never felt attuned to the rest of society. Her family has never understood her blunt speech and unwillingness to bow to conventional strictures, and so they have always made her feel that there is something wrong with her. Now as a poor relation in her cousin’s house, she makes plans to escape a life of drudgery and disdain from her own family members.

Naval Captain Gerard Foremont is having difficulty adjusting to life back on land, frustrated that his career has been cut short by his severely injured knee. Guilt haunts him as he sees the strain his long convalescence has had upon his parents. As they spend Christmastide with the Belmoores, he wants to help fulfill his mother’s wish to have her orphaned niece come to stay with them.

However, an enemy has infiltrated the family party, bent on revenge and determined that Twelfth Night will end in someone’s death …

All the posted parts are listed here.

***
Chapter 6a

Gerard pulled his mouth wide in what he hoped looked like a smile and passed Miss Church-Pratton a fir branch.

“Oh, Captain Foremont, are you certain your leg is not paining you?” She gave him a soulful look that brought out the blue of her eyes.

“I am perfectly well, Miss Church-Pratton.” Gerard ignored the ache in his knee.

“I do appreciate your help but I would not wish to cause you further injury.”

He tried to stretch his leg without drawing attention to the action. He seemed to be mostly recovered from the events of this morning in the woods. He moved a little more slowly and he could not climb the ladder to decorate the chandelier, but he was perfectly able to collect greenery and deliver it to the women who arranged it around the house. Unfortunately, Miss Church-Pratton seemed to call upon him quite incessantly for more greens.

“For I must tell you, Captain Foremont,” Miss Church-Pratton said as she wrapped ribbon around a fir bough and strand of ivy, “I was alarmed when I saw you limping so dreadfully as you came into the house.”

He would rather not be reminded of that riotous scene, complete with schoolboys chasing each other around the entrance hall, yelling at the tops of their lungs, and Mrs. Augusta Hathaway shrieking about gypsies attacking children in the woods. Ellie’s cries had turned to sniffles by the time they arrived at the house, but the noise had caused her to start crying again. Gerard had tried to speak to Miranda but hadn’t been able to get close to her.

“It must have been terrible for you.”

Miss Church-Pratton’s fussing over Gerard annoyed him, but he tried to tell himself that she was simply concerned.

“Now, if I had known you would be going greenery hunting rather than with the men hauling in the Yule log, I would have gone with all of you,” Miss Church-Pratton said.

Gerard had been secretly relieved that she had not joined the greenery party this morning. He had suspected that she had no wish to be in the company of all the children.

“Perhaps I could have protected you from that madwoman.” She smiled, dimpling up at him.

Considering the horrible violence that Ellie had been forced to witness, Gerard found Miss Church-Pratton’s comment inappropriate. He looked down at her coldly. “You no longer appear to need assistance, Miss Church-Pratton. I shall help my mother.” He gave her the tiniest of bows, then crossed the room to where his mother was directing a servant on a ladder in hanging the kissing bough directly over the open doorway into the drawing room.

His mother eyed the expression on his face with wariness and a splash of irritation. “I do wish you would stop focusing on your injury quite so much, Gerard. You may not be aware of it, but it casts a pall over the company, which is not very considerate of you.”

He did not feel he deserved his mother’s censure, but she had seen him through the blackest of moods over the past several months, and he knew it had put a strain on her temper. And the truth was that he did indeed feel frustrated with himself, not a novel emotion by any means. He had not been able to chase the lone woman because he had been unable to rise quickly to his feet, and he would not have been able to hobble after her in any event.

Added to his frustration was a strong dose of guilt. He had been horrified that Ellie had been injured simply because she had been standing too close when the woman had swung the branch at him.

“No, to the right,” his mother said to the servant, who obediently moved the kissing bough to his right. “No, the other right.” She indicated her own right side. “Miranda, is it centred?”

Miranda had been tying greens into a long garland to drape over the bannister, but she rose to stand in front of the open doorway, her head tilted to the side. “Perhaps a little to the right …”

Miranda appeared to be her usual calm self, although paler. A half hour after returning to the house, Gerard had climbed the stairs to see Ellie in the nursery, and Miranda had been there after finally coaxing the little girl to sleep. Miranda had not looked as though her nerves were frayed or that she were likely to take to her bed, which was what Gerard’s mother had done for an hour after he returned. Miranda had insisted that the blow to her head had merely caused her a slight headache.

She had changed her dress, as had they all, for dinner. Her dark blue gown made her skin even whiter, her hair glossy like a raven’s feathers. When he first saw her, she looked so lovely that he hadn’t been able to speak for a moment. Luckily, she hadn’t been looking at him, and then all the guests had begun the task of decorating the house with the greenery.

“Are you well?” he asked her.

“A slight headache.”

He could see the pain in the lines across her forehead, alongside her mouth and eyes. He would have wanted to look at the base of her neck, hidden by the folds of her shawl, if it had not been so improper for him to do so. “Has the doctor seen you?”

“No, but one of the maids has seen to my injury.”

“One of the maids? Cecil did not call for Dr. Morgan for you or for Ellie?”

“Betty, the maid, is very skilled in healing,” she said in a calm voice that alleviated his outrage. “Her mother is the local midwife, and the tenants call upon her when they cannot summon Dr. Morgan. I admit that I would trust Betty more than Dr. Morgan, since he often comes to the house smelling of wine.”

He determined not to summon Dr. Morgan if his knee grew worse, and to do all he could to prevent the man from coming near Miranda or Ellie. “How is Ellie?”

***
Buy The Spinster’s Christmas ebook for only $0.99!
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The Spinster's Christmas - Chapter 5b #Christianfiction #Regency #romance

I’m posting my Regency romance, The Spinster's Christmas , so all my blog readers get a chance to read it! It’s the Prequel novel to my Lady Wynwood’s Spies series.

A Regency romantic mystery

Miranda Belmoore has never felt attuned to the rest of society. Her family has never understood her blunt speech and unwillingness to bow to conventional strictures, and so they have always made her feel that there is something wrong with her. Now as a poor relation in her cousin’s house, she makes plans to escape a life of drudgery and disdain from her own family members.

Naval Captain Gerard Foremont is having difficulty adjusting to life back on land, frustrated that his career has been cut short by his severely injured knee. Guilt haunts him as he sees the strain his long convalescence has had upon his parents. As they spend Christmastide with the Belmoores, he wants to help fulfill his mother’s wish to have her orphaned niece come to stay with them.

However, an enemy has infiltrated the family party, bent on revenge and determined that Twelfth Night will end in someone’s death …

All the posted parts are listed here.

***
Chapter 5b

Pain exploded throughout her skull. She didn’t remember falling to the ground, but she became aware of dead leaves under her cheek, the overpowering scent of mildew and dirt. Her limbs felt chained to the ground.

Something blocked the dim light, and she saw the edge of a dark cloak dragging in the wet leaves. Hands ran over her body as though searching for something. She tried to roll over, but the attacker was leaning hard against her back.

Then she felt, through the ground, the heavier tread of boots, the lighter touch of a cane. No. She had to warn Gerard. He had Ellie with him.

The steps stopped. “Miranda!” he shouted.

The hands touching her froze.

He hastened toward her at the same time her attacker moved away. Miranda rolled over.

There was a blur, a swirl of skirts, and then a heavy branch swung though the air at Gerard’s head. He ducked, but the action made him stagger against his cane.

“Gerard!” she gasped. Miranda was behind the attacker and saw nothing but a dark cloak.

Then she saw Ellie standing a few feet away from Gerard. The girl had frozen, her face aghast. Fir boughs slowly rained down upon the ground.

Gerard’s expression looked more shocked than injured. But then the woman swung the branch again and hit his hip. He grimaced and fell to his knee, losing his cane.

But this time, the branch clipped Ellie on the head, and the little girl crumpled.

“Ellie!” Strength surged through her, and Miranda scrabbled through the leaves and bushes on her hands and knees.

The woman aimed a third blow at Gerard’s head, but he was able to grab the branch in both hands. The two of them struggled.

It seemed an age before Miranda reached Ellie’s form on the ground. The little girl was screaming. She gathered her into her arms and tried to drag her away from Gerard and the woman, turning her back to them to protect Ellie.

Grunting, frantic movements in the undergrowth. Then the woman cried out, her voice sounding as if she were being flung away.

Miranda turned her head to look and saw a heap of wool fabric several feet away from Gerard. He had taken the heavy branch the woman had used. He tried to rise to his feet, but his knee buckled and he fell again.

The woman scrambled up and darted away into the trees.

“Stop!” he shouted. Miranda heard the razor edge of frustration in his voice as he rose unsteadily, leaning for support on the branch that he still held.

Miranda used her scarf to dab at Ellie’s forehead, which was smeared with blood. The branch had cut her, but it did not appear to be deep, and Ellie’s cries were wrenching sobs of terror rather than pain.

Gerard retrieved his cane and hobbled toward them. “Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” Miranda said.

“Did you see her face?”

“No.”

“Are you injured? Is Ellie hurt?”

At that moment, Cousin Laura ran toward them. “What happened? Good gracious, is that blood?”

Aunt Augusta followed close behind with some of the other children. “What happened?”

“A woman attacked Miranda,” Gerard said. “When I came upon her, she appeared to be looking for valuables in Miranda’s cloak. When I tried to stop her, the woman accidentally hit Ellie.”

“Poor dear.” Cousin Laura drew near, but Ellie buried her face deeper into Miranda’s shoulder, her crying muffled.

“Let us take the children back to the house,” Laura said. “We should have enough greenery by now. Who would attack you?”

“Was it a gypsy?” Aunt Augusta asked. “I hadn’t heard of any gypsies in the area.”

“I don’t know.” Miranda started to shake her head, but the movement made pain cloud her vision.

“Miranda, you’re injured,” Gerard said.

“I am well. We must take Ellie away from here.”

They all turned back toward the house. Cousin Laura and Miranda’s aunts counted children and went to collect any stragglers while Miranda carried Ellie tightly against her.

Gerard was walking more slowly, leaning more heavily on his cane. She watched him, and had a drowning feeling in her lungs. Suddenly her plan to somehow erase her feelings for him no longer seemed so simple.

When the woman attacked him, and she’d seen Gerard go down, she’d known deep in her heart that she couldn’t bear to lose him.

***
Buy The Spinster’s Christmas ebook for only $0.99!
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iBooks
Kobo
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The Spinster's Christmas - Chapter 5a #Christianfiction #Regency #romance

I’m posting my Regency romance, The Spinster's Christmas , so all my blog readers get a chance to read it! It’s the Prequel novel to my Lady Wynwood’s Spies series.

A Regency romantic mystery

Miranda Belmoore has never felt attuned to the rest of society. Her family has never understood her blunt speech and unwillingness to bow to conventional strictures, and so they have always made her feel that there is something wrong with her. Now as a poor relation in her cousin’s house, she makes plans to escape a life of drudgery and disdain from her own family members.

Naval Captain Gerard Foremont is having difficulty adjusting to life back on land, frustrated that his career has been cut short by his severely injured knee. Guilt haunts him as he sees the strain his long convalescence has had upon his parents. As they spend Christmastide with the Belmoores, he wants to help fulfill his mother’s wish to have her orphaned niece come to stay with them.

However, an enemy has infiltrated the family party, bent on revenge and determined that Twelfth Night will end in someone’s death …

All the posted parts are listed here.

***
Chapter 5a

Miranda welcomed the distraction of picking Christmas greens to decorate the house. Everyone was in a merry mood, no one paying attention to her, and she could calm herself.

She had thought Gerard would not expend much effort for her request to his mother, and had expected that path to be closed to her. His actions in enlisting the help of Cousin Laura had not only surprised her, but had caused hope to blossom in her chest.

She ought not to hope. It always led to disappointment.

And yet what else could she do when two people were suddenly championing her? She was unaccustomed to such consideration, for her parents’ treatment of her had taught her to avoid depending upon others.

Therefore, it had been particularly difficult for her to ask Aunt Augusta for help, only to be accused her of ingratitude for Cecil’s benevolence. After such criticism, Miranda had nearly not approached Laura with the same request. But then Laura had been so concerned, and Gerard had surprised her with his persistence in helping her.

Would they succeed in convincing his mother? And yet, she was afraid to hope.

She took a deep breath, letting the quiet of the forest soothe her. The trees had the feel of age and patience, perseverance through storms and overzealous woodchoppers. She imagined she could hear the trees whispering to each other even now, rustling in arboreal gossip over the excited chatter of women and children gathering greenery.

How the paths of her life had shifted only a scant hour or two ago. Everything seemed too wonderful to possibly be more than a dream that would melt away—staying with Ellie and the Foremonts, and then with Cousin Laura. Escaping the Beattys. No longer needing to withstand Felicity’s impatience and determination to put Miranda in her proper place as a humble, grateful dependent.

Would her circumstances truly be different after Twelfth Night? It was hard to imagine how they would be, because she had felt for a long time that she was slowly disappearing, like a ghost fading away into mist. She didn’t know if she could be happy. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been.

“Randa.” Ellie broke into her thoughts. She had been following Miranda and holding the fir boughs that she cut.

“Yes, darling?”

“Paul said he will get the biggest branch.”

“Oh, did he? We shall see if we can best him.”

Ellie grinned, and it was Miranda’s cousin Edmund who smiled at her in the shape of her mouth, the crinkling of her eyes. But she had her mother’s blue eyes and golden-brown hair, fine as cornsilk.

Miranda had done this every Christmas Eve with her Belmoore relatives—the women and children picking mistletoe, ivy, and fir boughs while the men and farmhands went out to collect the massive Yule log, which would burn in the oversized medieval fireplace in the great entry hall until the end of Twelfth Night.

Gerard came up beside her, but spoke to Ellie, whose arms were so full of fir boughs that they trailed down behind her. “Take care, Ellie, or you will trip over your green dress.”

She looked at the dripping fir, then giggled and twirled in a circle, making the branches fly out around her, and a few flung off through the undergrowth.

“You’ll lose everything we’ve collected,” Miranda said with a smile.

“I’ll go get them. Come, Ellie.” Gerard went off the path, making a dramatic effort as he swung his cane at the scraggly bushes, pretending to get lost as he searched for the missing firs.

The last time Miranda had gathered greenery with Gerard had been sixteen years ago, the Christmas before he went to sea. He would have been with the men and the Yule log if his knee had allowed him to keep up, or allowed him to ride a horse without pain. He joked with Ellie and with the other children, but every so often, the distant sound of a man’s voice in the woods made him look up, and a harshness would settle over his face like a mask.

Or perhaps his cheerfulness was the mask.

She admitted that some of the fear—no, probably most of the fear she felt was how, if she went to the Foremonts’ home, she would be so close to Gerard for the first time in years. Yes, fear that she wouldn’t be able to hide her feelings from him, or even worse, from his parents.

She was used to hiding. She’d had to hide who she was, it seemed, all her life—from her own parents, from most of her family. People seemed to constantly remind her that she could never be quite the same as the rest of society. That she was different.

Her father had been disappointed that she wasn’t charming, that she was too quiet and uninteresting. Her mother had been upset that she’d been hopeless at catching a husband during her season. Felicity disliked her so much that she was eager to foist her off rather than keeping an unpaid servant.

And aside from all that, there was the one secret no one could know, the one sin she could never rub out.

She had no wish to open herself to anyone, and certainly not handsome, confident Gerard. He would find her lacking, as so many other people in her life had done, and if she loved him, his disappointment or rejection would flay her alive.

So she had to somehow crush her feelings for him. Burn them out of her heart.

Not all the trees had lost their leaves, and combined with the fitful winter sun, the dimness made it seem even colder. Gerard and Ellie had wandered away from Miranda, and she determined to keep herself apart from him. Ellie needed to become used to Gerard, who was a stranger to her.

Miranda tramped through the undergrowth, distancing herself from the other women and children, deeper into the silence and darkness of the forest. Even their voices became muffled by the tree trunks and low-hanging branches.

Behind her, leaves rustled, then a stick snapped. And then something heavy collided with the base of her neck.

***
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The Spinster's Christmas - Chapter 4b #Christianfiction #Regency #romance

I’m posting my Regency romance, The Spinster's Christmas , so all my blog readers get a chance to read it! It’s the Prequel novel to my Lady Wynwood’s Spies series.

A Regency romantic mystery

Miranda Belmoore has never felt attuned to the rest of society. Her family has never understood her blunt speech and unwillingness to bow to conventional strictures, and so they have always made her feel that there is something wrong with her. Now as a poor relation in her cousin’s house, she makes plans to escape a life of drudgery and disdain from her own family members.

Naval Captain Gerard Foremont is having difficulty adjusting to life back on land, frustrated that his career has been cut short by his severely injured knee. Guilt haunts him as he sees the strain his long convalescence has had upon his parents. As they spend Christmastide with the Belmoores, he wants to help fulfill his mother’s wish to have her orphaned niece come to stay with them.

However, an enemy has infiltrated the family party, bent on revenge and determined that Twelfth Night will end in someone’s death …

All the posted parts are listed here.

***
Chapter 4b

A chill raced up Laura’s spine, and it was not from the winter wind. But perhaps she was mistaken. “I did not know you were close to Felicity’s cousin,” she said lightly. “How long will you be visiting?”

There was an awkward pause. “I will not be visiting. After Twelfth Night, Felicity is sending me to help as their nursery-maid.”

Laura stopped walking and grasped Miranda’s elbow. “She cannot hire her own nursery-maid? Or beg the help of one of her relations?”

Miranda would not look at Laura. “She has difficulty retaining her staff.”

Laura knew why, although she was not certain if Miranda did, also. Laura had no wish to frighten her, but she could not allow her to walk into that house with warning. “You cannot go,” Laura croaked.

Miranda’s cheeks had become as grey as the sky. She hesitated, then whispered, “Are the rumors true?”

“Oh, my dear girl. I must tell Felicity—”

“She did not believe me.”

Of course Felicity would not, that wretched, selfish woman.

Laura had never known Miranda well because her father had not been one of Laura’s favourite cousins. Charles Belmoore had been a scowl on two legs, and his wife had had the perpetual expression of someone smelling fish gone bad.

But she could not allow Felicity to do this to Miranda. Laura had been forced to endure her horrific marriage to her late husband, but it had given her the means and independence to do what was right.

“If only I could take you home with me,” Laura said. “But I am promised to my aunt in Northumbria after Twelfth Night, and my townhouse in London is being renovated while I am away. Perhaps I may write to my aunt …”

“Lady Wynwood, Miranda,” said a strong male voice, “good morning to you both.”

Laura would normally welcome Gerard’s company, had Miranda’s plight not been so troubling. Because of Mr. Foremont’s close friendship with Laura’s cousin Edward, she had known Gerard since he was in leading strings. She was surprised to see the grave lines in his forehead as he looked at Miranda.

However, he turned to her with a smile. “It is good to see you, my lady. I had not time for more than a quick hello last evening.”

“You are looking remarkably well.” He was, for although he walked slowly and carefully with his cane on the wet, brittle grass, it was a marked improvement from only a month ago when she had seen him briefly in London. He had been in town with his parents to visit his doctor, and he had been using crutches rather than a cane.

“Thank you.” He glanced away briefly, and she thought she saw the same bitter frustration behind his eyes that she’d seen a month ago.

Perhaps he was not as improved as she had thought.

“My father and I have spoken to Cecil and Mr. Belmoore,” Gerard said. “It is decided that Ellie is to come home with us.”

“That’s wonderful,” Laura said.

“I must thank you again for your suggestion to my mother. The anticipation of having Ellie in her care has made her quite cheerful.” His eyes slid to Miranda, then he said to Laura, “I wish to beg another favour from you, my lady. Would you perhaps exert your influence over my mother to allow Miranda to accompany Ellie to Foremont Court for a few months?”

Laura gasped. “That is a very good idea.”

He blinked. “It is? Er … that is, just so.”

Miranda was looking at him with surprise. “Gerard, your mother …”

“We have nearly a fortnight to convince her,” he said, more to Miranda than to Laura. “I am certain that with Lady Wynwood’s help, we may do so.”

“Of course I will help you,” Laura said. She could think of no better way to prevent Miranda from being sent to the Beattys.

Color had returned to Miranda’s cheeks. “Would you, Cousin Laura?”

“My dear.” Laura stopped to take Miranda’s hands in hers. “Of course I will. And it will only be for a few weeks, perhaps a few months. After I help my aunt organize the repair of her cottage, I insist that you come to stay with me in my townhouse in London.”

“Do you need a companion?”

“Not particularly,” Laura said cheerfully, “and I suspect you would be a poor one. You do not scurry nervously. And I have seen your embroidery—it is atrocious, so you would not be able to untangle your employer’s silks.”

A smile tugged at Miranda’s lips.

“If you will be able to stay with the Foremonts until I come to retrieve you, then you will join me in London as my guest. You may stay as long as you like, or I can find a position for you if you desire it. I only regret I cannot have you with me immediately, but my aunt’s cottage has only one useable bedroom. In fact, I shall be sleeping on the sofa for part of the time, and there is no inn within a comfortable distance.”

Miranda squeezed Laura’s hands tightly, but the girl said nothing, her eyes large and luminous.

“You quite exhaust me with your exuberance,” Laura said.

“I am confident we shall prevail, Miranda,” Gerard said. “You will be happy at Foremont Court before long.”

It was just a flicker of a glance that Miranda sent to Gerard before she looked away, but the certainty struck Laura like a blow. Miranda was in love with Gerard. It might be a girlhood infatuation, but the feelings were there, waiting to mature into true, deep affection.

Laura was no matchmaker, but a part of her wished for happiness for Miranda and Gerard, each of whom was lonely in their own way. She must convince Mary Foremont to allow Miranda to travel back to their home with them and with Ellie, but would she only be encouraging a situation that would result in heartbreak for Miranda?

Or would two hearts somehow find each other across the gulf of Miranda’s protective shell and Gerard’s bitterness?

***
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The Spinster's Christmas - Chapter 4a #Christianfiction #Regency #romance

I’m posting my Regency romance, The Spinster's Christmas , so all my blog readers get a chance to read it! It’s the Prequel novel to my Lady Wynwood’s Spies series.

A Regency romantic mystery

Miranda Belmoore has never felt attuned to the rest of society. Her family has never understood her blunt speech and unwillingness to bow to conventional strictures, and so they have always made her feel that there is something wrong with her. Now as a poor relation in her cousin’s house, she makes plans to escape a life of drudgery and disdain from her own family members.

Naval Captain Gerard Foremont is having difficulty adjusting to life back on land, frustrated that his career has been cut short by his severely injured knee. Guilt haunts him as he sees the strain his long convalescence has had upon his parents. As they spend Christmastide with the Belmoores, he wants to help fulfill his mother’s wish to have her orphaned niece come to stay with them.

However, an enemy has infiltrated the family party, bent on revenge and determined that Twelfth Night will end in someone’s death …

All the posted parts are listed here.

***
Chapter 4a

December 24th

The morning had dawned crisp and cold, but clear enough for the annual Christmas greens collecting. Laura, Lady Wynwood, finished tying the scarf about Sally’s neck. The little girl had grown so much since Laura had seen her last Christmas here at Wintrell Hall. “There, now you are ready to gather mistletoe.”

“William says mistletoe is for grown-ups.”

“And who is William?”

“He is the rector’s son. Back at home in Sussex.”

Laura smiled and smoothed the brown curls peeking out from beneath the girl’s hood. “Mistletoe is for the kissing bough, so I suppose he’s right, after a fashion.”

Sally made a face. “Why do grown-ups like kissing so much? William said that sometimes when grown-ups kiss, they make babies.”

Laura choked back a laugh. “No, they most certainly do not make babies simply from kissing. But grown-ups do enjoy it.”

Sally gave her a suspicious look. “Do you enjoy kissing?”

“I enjoy kissing you.” Laura grabbed her in a hug and rained kisses upon her round cheeks.

Sally squealed and giggled. “Now you must kiss Paul,” she told Laura.

Sally’s cousin, who had been pulling on his mittens nearby, scowled and backed up a few steps. “I’m too old for kissing. Kissing is for babies.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You’re the baby cousin. There isn’t anyone younger than you.”

Sally turned to Laura. “Cousin Laura, you should have babies so that I will no longer be the youngest.”

It surprised Laura that the innocent remark caused such a sharp pang in her heart, even after all these years. She imagined she could feel an answering pain in her stomach. She gave Sally a bright smile. “Babies require a papa, and I have no husband.”

“You should marry Mr. Drydale.”

“No, Mr. Drydale and I are friends. Like you and William, the rector’s son. Now off with you.” She gave Sally a little push out the front door as the other cousins also filed outside.

No, Sol deserved better than someone like her. She was not being self-pitying, but practical. He needed a woman who could bear him an heir, and she would not put herself under the control of a man. Never again.

Laura secured her own hood and followed the troupe of children. They all headed across the lawn in front of the house toward the edge of the forest. A pale winter sun squinted through the hazy clouds, turning the grass a sage-green color. Her breath blew around her head, and when she inhaled, she smelled woodsmoke.

She was watching Paul chase Sally in circles around the lawn when she became aware of someone who had come to walk beside her. “Good morning, Miranda.”

“Good morning, Cousin Laura.”

“Where is Ellie?” It had been obvious that Ellie clung to Miranda like a barnacle on a ship, and no wonder—the child had lost her mother less than a year ago, and then been thrust into Cecil’s cold household. And Miranda was the sort of person you could cling to, who wouldn’t mind you doing it.

“Ellie is there.” Miranda pointed to a small figure walking with Augusta’s youngest daughter, who was fifteen. “Liliana has promised to make snow angels with her if they find a patch of snow.”

“Snow? Not yet, I fear.”

“Ellie is still hopeful.” Miranda smiled, and it transformed her face from plain to pixie-like. But the smile was fleeting, and as it faded, lines appeared on the sides of her mouth. “Cousin Laura, I have a favour to ask. But I should like it if you did not tell Cecil about it.”

Laura raised her eyebrows. “Cecil?”

Miranda’s cheeks turned rosy, but Laura did not believe it was from the biting winter wind. “I have already spoken briefly with Aunt Augusta, and she was quite distressed at my request. I should not wish to upset Cecil.”

“Of course. I will not speak to him about our private conversation.”

“Thank you.” Miranda’s exhaled breath hung like a cloud about her head. “Cousin Laura, you have a great many friends and relations. Do you know of any ladies who might need a paid companion?”

Laura was not surprised by the question. While she knew very little about Miranda’s situation, she had noticed that Felicity treated Miranda with less respect than her relationship as Cecil’s cousin deserved. However, it was not uncommon for poor relations to be treated like servants—she had seen it in other households, with women even more arrogant than Felicity Belmoore.

And yet Miranda’s face never betrayed any discomfort. She had always kept her feelings to herself.

“Of course. I shall write to my friends directly,” Laura said.

“Thank you. If you do hear of a position, please write to me at the home of Felicity’s cousin, Polly Beatty, outside of Weymouth.”

A chill raced up Laura’s spine, and it was not from the winter wind. But perhaps she was mistaken. “I did not know you were close to Felicity’s cousin,” she said lightly. “How long will you be visiting?”

***
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Formosa Ruby 18 Black tea review - Mastersteas.com by @AdagioTeas

Today I tried the Formosa Ruby 18 Black tea from Mastersteas.com. They sent me several black teas to try and review for my blog, but I got so busy that I never got around to this until now. I was excited to be trying for the first time a tea I normally wouldn’t have bought—new tasting experiences are always fun for me.

From the website:

A very fine version of the Ruby 18, otherwise known as Red Jade, it is intense with surprising licorice notes. The long, dark leggy leaves, contain some lovely buds. The licorice cup also has a cooling menthol effect. There are notes of spice, a hint of caramel, and a whisper of toasted vanilla bean. The dry finish completes what is a very interesting, dynamic experience. In a word, excellent.

Ruby #18 is a unique cultivar from Taiwan, and a relatively new invention, only surfacing in the late twentieth century after over fifty years of research. A cross between a wild Formosa tea plant and an Assam from Burma, it was developed specifically with the intent to make phenomenal black tea.

This tea contains a high level of caffeine | Steep at 212° for 2-3 minutes.

This was definitely one of the more unusual black teas I’ve ever tried, and I found I really liked it. The leaves are long and beautiful, so I used an airy 1 tablespoon in 500 mL of water at 212°F for 3 minutes.

When drinking it plain, I found it a very light and soothing cup of afternoon tea. It was not as strong as my English Breakfast black tea, but not as light as a green tea, and with none of the grassy flavors of an Oolong tea. I don’t always taste the flavors described for teas, but in this case I definitely tasted the licorice, which gave it a very nice, dry finish. Even when I oversteeped the second cup, it was not bitter at all. It went very well with my blueberry bagel, although I think it would go well with any type of sweets or snacks.

I also tried it with a little milk and honey, and that’s where it got really interesting. The licorice and spice flavor suddenly was enhanced, which made it an unusual flavor for a black tea. I found I enjoyed it a lot, and ended up getting a slice of a pumpkin roll from the fridge to pair with it. The tea tasted great paired with the spicy pumpkin roll.

Overall, it was an unusual but delicious cup of tea. It would go well with anything if it were plain, but with milk and honey I could only see it pairing well with other spiced sweets, for my personal preference. For people who enjoy black tea without milk and sugar, this is definitely a complex cup of tea that is great for afternoon snacking.

Journaling for productivity and motivation

I think the biggest change I made in December was that I started journaling again, except that I’m using an electronic journal instead of a paper journal. The decision was a tough one to make because I love the tactile feel of a paper journal, but I also had to consider what I wanted to get out of journaling.

I wanted to do a variety of things, including logging my meals (I needed to figure out what I was eating that might be triggering some health issues) and my exercise, and recording what I did during the day for my writing and also outside my writing.

I was originally going to use the SparkPeople app for my meals and exercise, but I decided to give e-journaling a try and found that I am more likely to log my meals when I don’t have to figure out portions and calorie count. I still can see where I overeat and when I snack mindlessly, I just don’t see the calorie count. Also I have a reminder on the journal page template to exercise, and I found myself being motivated to check that box every day.

I tried out the Day One Journal app for the 7-day trial period and ending up really liking it. It lets you have several journals, so I have a journal for food and health, a journal for general activities, and a journal for writing.

What surprised me was that I started using my e-journalling to also help with my To Do list, which I had previously used a Reminder app for. I have found myself being much more productive because I am in my e-journal intermittently during the day (it’s on my phone), and so I am reminded of what I need to do that day. I found myself more likely to get those things done and check off each item in the list. During the day, I add things to the To Do list as I think of them, and I’m more likely to get to them in a timely manner.

I also took the idea from the Bullet Journal about having a month at a glance page and a year at a glance page. I use both to list different types of To Do lists, and I have been using the Month at a Glance page to list my accomplishments as well as record events. For example, I recorded when I cleaned up my office, when I cleared out my email inbox, and when I finished taking notes on some key research papers I had been meaning to read. I’ll probably condense that down to list in my Year in a Glance page.


I’ve also added photos I snap with my phone, so I have a nice visual record of things I’ve done, like the things I’ve knit or how my trees in the garden are flowering (my plum tree was budding right after the new year!).


So far, I’ve enjoyed journaling on my phone like that. It has helped with my productivity and my health, and it also helped with my writing goals and writing To Do list. I hope to continue to journal consistently to record what I do, my thoughts, my memories of events, and improve my productivity.

Do you guys journal? What do you use? I’m always curious about other people’s journaling methods, so please leave a comment.