Camille Elliot's Blog, page 91

The Spinster's Christmas - Chapter 1b

I’m blogging the revised version of my Regency romance, The Spinster's Christmas , so you all get a chance to read it. After I post it all, I’ll take it down from my blog, so be sure to read it while it’s being posted. It is the first book in my Lady Wynwood 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 …

Start reading here.

***
Chapter 1b

“Ellie will be happy to see you, ma’am,” Miranda said to his mother. “She was asking after you all this week, wondering when you would arrive.”

The mention of the six-year-old made his mother smile. “We so enjoyed her visit in the summer. It quite lifted my spirits.”

Her joyful tone contrasted with her peevishness with her own son, and Gerard looked away. But he could not fault her. An orphaned grand-niece was surely better company than an invalid sailor.

This past summer, Ellie had been sent to visit her mother’s relations at Foremont Court. Because Gerard’s mother loved children, she’d begged Ellie’s grandfather to extend the visit to a full eight weeks. At the time, Gerard had still been in the hospital in London, recovering from the cannonball that had exploded the deck beneath his feet, driving splintered wood into his knee.

Only when Gerard had been about to return home was his mother forced to give up Ellie and let her go back to the household of Sir Cecil, her father’s cousin. Ellie’s paternal grandfather had not felt adequate to raise a young girl after her father had been killed on the Peninsula and her mother had died in childbirth only a few months later, so Ellie had been living with Cecil’s family above eight months now.

“How is Ellie?” Gerard’s mother asked Miranda.

Miranda hesitated before answering. “She was in high spirits in the weeks after she returned from your home, but since then, she has become quieter. It is difficult for her, since Cecil’s two younger boys are away at school most of the year, and only his two older daughters are at home. They are more likely to want to talk about gowns and fripperies than romp about with Ellie.”

“She has no playmates in the neighborhood?” Gerard asked.

Miranda said carefully, “Cecil is fastidious about the company his family keeps.”

Gerard frowned. Cecil apparently hadn’t changed in the years since they’d all played together. He was likely too proud to want to associate with any families of insufficiently high birth.

“Ellie enjoyed playing with our neighbors’ children. There was a veritable herd of children that galloped into our drawing room for tea and biscuits every morning,” his mother said with a laugh.

Because unlike Cecil, Gerard’s family had good relationships with all their neighbors, who had many young children below the age of ten.

“I worry that she is lonely,” Miranda said.

“You mustn’t worry,” Gerard said. “After Twelfth Night, we plan to take Ellie home with us to stay.”

He caught a flash of green as she raised her head, and her mouth fell open. “You do?”

“We should enjoy having Ellie with us ever so much,” his mother said. “The idea would never have come into our heads if we had not met Lady Wynwood in London a month ago. It was she who suggested it. She had recently spoken to her cousin Edward—Ellie’s grandfather—and he had mentioned that Ellie was feeling low.”

“Laura thought Ellie would enjoy a change of scenery,” his father said, “with the added benefit of having a girl around the house to cheer Mary up.” He patted his wife’s hand.

“It will not occupy too much of your time with Gerard to have Ellie at home?” Miranda had always been rather blunt, but the artless way she said it made it obvious that she was concerned about him.

Gerard had had enough of pity from his family and neighbors in the past few months, but somehow Miranda’s concern did not upset him. “I am well on the mend. In fact, I insisted we convince Uncle Edward to allow us to take Ellie.”

“Uncle Edward agreed to it?” Miranda asked. “Cecil’s house is but ten miles from his own.”

“And Foremont Court is merely twelve in the other direction,” his father said. “Ellie will be able to see her grandfather as often as she wishes.”

“Does Cecil know of this plan?” Miranda asked. Gerard wondered if anyone besides himself could hear the wary edge to her voice.

“Not yet,” his father said.

“I can’t imagine why he should make a fuss at having a dependent taken off his hands,” his mother said. “Cecil may be the tenth Baronet Belmoore, but Edward is Cecil’s uncle and Ellie’s grandfather.”

“And both of Ellie’s grandfathers agree,” Gerard’s father said, “for not only Edward, but also my brother have written their consent.”

“It would be better by far for Ellie to remove to your home,” Miranda agreed.

At this point, the coach turned onto the stretch of drive that led up to the front of Wintrell Hall. The trees lining the drive were bare, but snow had not yet fallen, and the lawn in front of the house was a pale ash-green color. In contrast, on the east side of the house, the bushes peeking over the top of the stone garden wall were a startling orange-brown, waving in the wind that swept down the valley and swirled around the house.

***
Next blog post: Chapter 1c

Order The Spinster's Christmas:

Kindle
iBooks
Kobo
Nook (coming soon)

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The Spinster's Christmas - Chapter 1a

I’m blogging the revised version of my Regency romance, The Spinster's Christmas , so you all get a chance to read it. After I post it all, I’ll take it down from my blog, so be sure to read it while it’s being posted. It is the first book in my Lady Wynwood 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 …

Start reading here.

***
Chapter 1a

December 23rd

Captain Gerard Foremont, lately of His Majesty’s Royal Navy, wasn’t certain what caused him to notice the woman walking on the road toward Wintrell Hall. When he spotted the slim figure in a dark green wool cloak, something about the tilt of her head, the cadence of her measured stride, triggered a memory.

He had been fourteen years old, about to leave home as midshipman on his uncle’s frigate and spending a last Christmas with the Belmoores, old family friends, here at Wintrell Hall. They’d been hauling mistletoe and greenery when twelve-year-old Miranda had come up to him, raising her head. As always, he was momentarily startled by her crystal-green eyes framed by dark lashes. He rarely saw her eyes because she usually kept her head lowered.

“Will you miss us, when you are at sea?” she asked.

“Of course I will,” he said as they walked toward the house.

“Christmas won’t be the same without you. You make us all laugh. Even Cecil.”

Gerard laughed at that. “Then you must learn what will make our stodgy Cecil laugh more. Come, Miranda. I want some hot punch, don’t you?”

The memory faded as his family’s coach came up on the woman in the green cloak. She raised her head to look at him, and he caught the flash of crystal green.

“Stop the coach!” he ordered. The coachman heard him and began reining in the horses.

“Whatever for?” his mother asked.

“It’s Miranda. We should offer her a lift to the house.”

Gerard’s mother and father exchanged a strange look. Then his mother said, “Have we room for her?” She didn’t quite gesture toward the stout cane propped between the seats and leaning against the corner of the coach.

Gerard’s forehead tightened, not solely from the reminder of the cane, but also in shock at his mother’s want of hospitality. “What?”

His father said to his mother, “Dear, the coach has already stopped. It would look odd if we did not offer her a ride.”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” his mother said.

Gerard automatically reached for the door handle … then remembered in time that he’d have too much difficulty climbing out.

His father pretended he hadn’t seen the gesture, and said heartily, “I’ll go out and get the girl, shall I?” He tossed aside the blankets warming his legs, opened the door and stepped outside, raising his hand to hail her. “Miranda! My dear, walking in this weather? Come inside the coach with us.”

“Thank you, Mr. Foremont,” said a low voice. However, it did not sound like the Miranda he knew. He’d only seen her a few times in the sixteen years since he’d gone to sea, and the last time had been almost three years ago, before her parents had died and she’d gone to live with her cousin, Sir Cecil Belmoore. Miranda had always been quiet, but this voice sounded … defeated.

Her figure appeared in the doorway, but he couldn’t see her face, obscured by her bonnet. His father handed her into the coach, and she looked up at Gerard.

Crystal green pierced him, and elation rushed through him, pulsing with his heartbeat. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to reach out to touch her, to have some point of connection, and so he did, taking her hand. He squeezed her fingers. He didn’t want to release her.

She dropped into the seat across from him, her eyes lowered once again. He was forced to relinquish her hand.

He tried to speak, but found he had to clear his throat twice before he could say, “It’s good to see you again, Miranda.”

“You look well, Gerard,” she said.

“Not quite at death’s door,” he said in a light tone.

“I do wish you would stop exaggerating your injury, Gerard,” his mother said tartly.

Miranda sent her a surprised look, but Gerard had become used to his mother’s frayed temper in the past few months. She was not gifted in the sickroom, and being forced to care for her son had become wearisome for her. She loved him, he knew that, but she loved him more when he was whole and not in need of constant care.

“Miranda, my dear, why were you out today?” Gerard’s father asked. “It’s quite cold to be walking.”

“I had an errand to run for Felicity in the village,” Miranda said.

“That was kind of you,” Gerard said. However, the words she used made it sound as though the errand had been expected of her rather than as a favour to her cousin’s wife.

Sitting next to Gerard, his mother cleared her throat. His father said to Miranda, “Are you warm enough? Here, take this brick for your feet. It is still warm.”

“No, I am perfectly well.” Miranda’s voice had that same serenity that he remembered, which soothed over awkward moments and calmed crying children.

His father insisted, moving his warmed brick from beneath his feet to Miranda’s. It was then that Gerard noticed her clothes. He was not one to notice women’s clothing very often, but because of his mother’s fastidious taste, he understood the standards of dress worn by the women of his class.

However, the leather of Miranda’s half-boots was old and cracked, in worse shape than the boots in which he used to walk the fields with his father. He then noticed the frayed edge of her gown, and the faded blue of the thin wool fabric. Her cloak, too, was worn at the bottom edge and where it fastened at her throat. And compared to his mother’s bonnet, crisp straw lined with velvet, Miranda’s bonnet was limp and crushed, with her dark hair escaping in smooth strands. The ribbons tied under her chin were wrinkled and old, more suited for summer than winter.

Miranda looked like …

“Ellie will be happy to see you, ma’am,” Miranda said to his mother. “She was asking after you all this week, wondering when you would arrive.”

***
Next blog post: Chapter 1b

Order The Spinster's Christmas:

Kindle
iBooks
Kobo
Nook (coming soon)

Don't want to miss a post? Subscribe to my blog via email:

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The Spinster's Christmas - Prologue

I’m going to try something new and blog the revised version of my Regency romance, The Spinster's Christmas , so you all get a chance to read it. After I post it all, I’ll take it down from my blog, so be sure to read it while it’s being posted. It is the first book in my Lady Wynwood 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 …

***
And she called the name of the Lord that spake unto her, Thou God seest me: for she said, Have I also here looked after him that seeth me?
Genesis 16:13 (KJV)

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:7 (KJV)

To my readers: My prayer for you is that you will know that God sees you and that you fully understand how much He loves you.

Prologue

Dorsetshire, England, December 23rd, 1810

“I am heartily sick of your complaining and moaning, you old woman,” Lady Wynwood told her companion, who was lounging on the seat across from her in her travelling coach.

The “old woman” was in actuality a fit man in his fourth decade, with a rugged face and an easy smile hovering on the edges of his mouth. His jaw might not be as firm as it had been twenty years ago, but he was still the handsome buck Laura had first met during her debut in London, and he knew it, too.

“Reduced to name-calling, Laura?” Solomon Drydale drawled.

“Would you rather I simply opened this coach door and booted you out of it?”

He grinned impudently at her in reply.

“You made the decision to ride inside the coach rather than alongside it on your horse,” she continued. “Therefore, I do not wish to hear another groan about the springs of my axles or whatever it is that you call them. It is my coach, not yours.”

Sol held up his hands in surrender. “You are quite right. Forgive me.” He gave her that charming half-smile that never failed to soften the ire of the most peevish of dowagers.

Laura rolled her eyes.

The coach jolted again in the badly potted road. Laura set her teeth.

Sol groaned at the jolt. “How much farther to Wintrell Hall?” In response to her black look, he quickly added, “I am not complaining. It is a sincere question.”

“You have been to Wintrell Hall before.”

“It has been a year or two since I accompanied you to Sir Cecil’s home for Christmastide,” Sol said. “I am hardly required to remember the length of each stage of the journey.”

“We are nearly on Cecil’s lands,” Laura said.

“Good.” Sol settled deeper into the plush velvet seat. “Sir Cecil Belmoore may be an insufferable prig, but at least he is responsible enough to see to the upkeep of his roads.”

“Solomon Drydale,” Laura said in shocked accents. “Remember you are speaking of my cousin’s son.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, you like the man as little as I do.”

She gave a disgusted sound. “You are incorrigible.”

“Since when have you been too reticent to speak your mind with me?” he demanded. “It is only the two of us in this rattling—er, splendidly sprung coach.”

“I knew you were not overly fond of Sir Cecil, but I had no idea you disliked him so much. If such is the case, you could have chosen to spend the season with your own family,” she said pointedly.

Sol didn’t answer, but his face took on a grim cast.

Laura eyed him. “What unpleasantness are you avoiding in so cowardly a fashion?”

Her goad hit its mark. “It is hardly cowardly to wish to avoid the machinations of a desperate woman.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

Sol sighed. “You are not the only one to have relations who wish to marry you off to their person of choice. In my case, my sister-in-law has hopes for her niece or cousin or some sort.”

Laura’s laugh hopefully hid the pang that squeezed her heart at his words. She oughtn’t to be surprised. Solomon Drydale was an eligible widower with a vast estate, and great-grandson to a viscount. “I would think you would be up to the tricks of a young girl.”

“She’s not young, she’s nearly thirty.”

“A veritable babe,” Laura said with narrowed eyes. She herself was now on the disagreeable side of forty.

Sol simply smiled at her. “Have no fear. You, my dear, are still as youthful as the day I met you in Green Park.”

He delivered his compliments with that quirk to his lips that made the dimple peek out from his left cheek. But she refused to count herself among the scores of other widows in London who were half in love with him. “Are you now a merchant trading in Spanish coin? You are not usually so flattering to me, Sol.”

“Not flattering, merely answering your question. Avoiding Miss Whatever-her-name is the reason I chose to spend Christmastide with you and your Belmoore relations. Our reasons are not so dissimilar.”

He was right. On Laura’s father’s side of the family, her cousin’s wife, Matilda, had a profligate brother with a penchant for gambling. Matilda had already attempted some rather devious plots to bring Laura into company with him, perhaps even to orchestrate a scandalous situation that would force Laura to marry the gambler. So Laura was avoiding her father’s relations this year in favour of the Belmoores, her mother’s side of the family.

“I do hope there are no Matildas among the family party,” Sol said. “Your late cousin was not clever enough to be so devious, so I am assuming his son, Sir Cecil, is the same.”

“Sol, you imp,” Laura admonished him. “You are trying to make me confess my family members’ faults, but the truth is that I like them a great deal.”

“I seem to recall your complaining to me about some rather priggish letters Sir Cecil sent to you regarding how you administered your fortune,” Sol said.

In other words, Sir Cecil had disliked the fact that Laura had control of her own money. Laura had ignored the letters. Sol had laughed at them, but he had no great regard for Sir Cecil, the present head of the Belmoore family.

“You like my cousin Edward,” she reminded him. “And I assure you that his sisters have much more countenance now than when you met them during their come-outs.” They now had children and even grandchildren. The thought of their families made her smile. She adored all the children who gathered for Christmas at Wintrell Hall and looked forward to the games and charades.

“Now what has brought that brightness to your lovely face?” Sol asked.

She hesitated, because she knew her answer would pain him. “I was thinking about the Christmas games. With the children.”

He smiled in response, although it did not reach his eyes. “That is because you are so competitive.”

“Now I know you are back to your normal self, because you are dishing up rude remarks once more,” she said.

“I must take heed of my tongue, lest I offend some matron and turn Christmastide into a theatrical tragedy.”

“I am not concerned about your tongue.”

“Are you not? And they being your family?”

“However much you play the churl with me, you would never forget yourself in company.”

“Now who’s dealing in Spanish coin?”

“However, you will be looking for any opportunity to goad me into saying something offensive,” Laura continued.

Sol grinned. “Because it is so much fun when you do.”

Laura glared. It had only been the once when she’d been indiscreet enough to say out loud that she thought Lady Adderly’s hat looked like a molting chicken. She said in a firm tone, “I wish for a happy, uneventful Christmastide this year.” Unspoken was her admonition, Behave, Sol.

“Yes, yes.” Sol grinned at her. “Completely uneventful, I assure you.”

***
Next blog post: Chapter one

Order The Spinster's Christmas:

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Nook (coming soon)

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Shell Pattern Manchettes, take 1

I was over at the Regency Reflections blog talking a bit about my latest Regency knitting project, “Shell Pattern Manchettes” and also a little historical tidbit about knitting in the Regency and Georgian era.

Murder and Mayhem in the Regency

I’m over at Suspense Sisters blog today talking a bit about the quandry I’m in over the murder and mayhem in my current Regency romance work-in-progress.

BACKFIRE by Elizabeth Goddard

Beth's new book just hit the shelves! To celebrate the release of Backfire (Mountain Cove)Suspense Sisters had a full week last week hearing from Beth about her book and running a giveaway.

Here's the back cover blurb:

NOWHERE LEFT TO HIDE

Tracy Murray had thought she'd be safe disappearing in the wilds of Alaska after her testimony put away a gang leader. But the gang symbol tattooed on an attacker's arm means the clock has run out. She's been found—and she knows the killers won't let her escape alive again. She can't fight an entire gang alone—she needs help. But when she finds herself relying on widowed firefighter David Warren, a new struggle emerges. Fleeing Alaska and cutting all ties could be the only way to survive…but it would mean leaving her heart behind.

Mountain Cove: In the Alaskan wilderness, love and danger collide

Be sure to visit Suspense Sisters for all the posts last week:

Giveaway of BACKFIRE
Excerpt of BACKFIRE
A message from Elizabeth Goddard

Too many ideas

I’m currently working on two projects, one a Regency novel and another a sort-of dystopian/near future series that I’ve felt God laying on my heart to write.

The problem with the dystopian is that I have too many ideas! I wanted to do the third Protection for Hire series book as the start of my near-future world, but suddenly I had six or eight new characters appear in my head, each with their own stories.

I’ve been writing my ideas down as I get them, but now I feel like I’ve been dissing poor Tessa and Charles because the other stories seem more interesting to me right now.

I guess I’ll continue with my plan: to write the third Protection for Hire book as planned, and table these other characters’ stories. Or maybe I’ll introduce a couple of them in Tessa and Charles’s book? It’s actually been rather interesting to subtly alter Tessa’s old story world to mesh with this new dystopian world idea that God gave to me.

If They Have Ears to Hear

I’m over on ChristiansRead.com talking about a really important message I heard yesterday that pertains to God’s message in my Regency writing, and I guess my writing in general.

Gerard's Red and Black Scarf knitting pattern

For fun, I decided to knit the Regency scarf that Gerard, my hero, gives to my heroine in my Christmas short novel, The Spinster's Christmas . I can’t remember if I posted the finished scarf on my blog, including any changes I made to the pattern, so here it is.

I chose A Gentleman’s Comforter from The Ladies’ Knitting and Netting Book, First Series by Miss Watts, originally published in 1837. You can download the .pdf of the Fifth Edition, with additions, which was published in 1840.

I’m pretty sure this pattern was in use in the Regency, because most patterns had been passed down by word of mouth long before they were published. So Jane Austen could have gotten this pattern from a friend or family member and used it when making a scarf for her father. :)

Here’s the original pattern:


I wasn't entirely certain what “coarse steel needles” and “5 skeins of fine wool yarn” mean, so I just guessed. I used US 1 needles and fingering weight wool yarn, but you could use anything you want, including larger needles and yarn. Just cast on fewer stitches, making sure it’s an even number.

I got my yarn from KnitPicks.com, and was thrilled to find a “Hollyberry” color way. Very Christmasy!


If you’re interested, here’s my project on Ravelry.

I cast on 72 stitches. I used the same cast on I do when I make top down socks, which is the Norwegian cast on with two needles held together. However, you can use whatever cast on you want. I would suggest, however, that you cast on either with a larger needle or two needles held together.


First row:
Knit 1, move the yarn to the front, slip one stitch purl wise, move yarn to the back
(knit 1 but instead of throwing the yarn once around the needle, throw it twice around before pulling the loop through, move the yarn to the front, slip one stitch purl wise, move yarn to the back) repeat to the last 2 stitches in the row,
knit 1 with the yarn twice around the needle, knit 1 with the yarn only once around the needle.

Next row:
Knit 1 (with yarn only once around needle), slip stitch purl wise with yarn in front, dropping the extra loop, (knit with the yarn twice around the needle, slip stitch purl wise with yarn in front, dropping the extra loop) repeat to the last two stitches, knit 1 with the yarn twice around the needle, knit 1 with the yarn only once around the needle.

Repeat this last row until your scarf is long enough.

It’s basic double knitting, but with a drop stitch, which makes the stitches a bit poofy and airy. It makes the scarf soft even if the wool is a bit tightly spun. A tightly spun yarn is typically more durable, and that would make the scarf durable, soft, and warm all at once.

The original pattern calls for one color, but I did 4" long red and black blocks.



If you end up knitting this scarf, please do let me know and send pictures! I might post them on my blog. :)

Gerard's red and black scarf is featured in The Spinster's Christmas , which is up on pre-sale right now, for release on August 22nd. It is the first book in my Lady Wynwood 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 …

Use the links below to order The Spinster's Christmas so you'll be sure to receive your copy when it is released in August.

Kindle
iBooks
Kobo
Nook (coming soon)

Meet Clay, the hero from GONE MISSING

I’m over at Team Love on the Run talking a bit more about my hero, Clay, from Gone Missing . He’s a bit close to my heart for several reasons. :)