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Author Archives: Amanda McCabe/Laurel McKee

About Amanda McCabe/Laurel McKee

Writer (as Amanda McCabe, Laurel McKee, Amanda Carmack), history geek, yoga enthusiast, pet owner!
 Welcome to the blog debut visitor Sarah Mallory, author of #5 in the Castonbury Park series, “The Illegitimate Montague”!!  Comment for the chance to win a copy…
Castonbury Village
We love to read (and of course to write) about the dukes and duchesses, the great and the good of old England, but for the Castonbury Park series we also took a look “below stairs”, at the people who worked in and around Castonbury Park and many of them would have lived in the village.
The country village of the Regency era was much more self-sufficient than it is today. Local farmers’ wifes produced butter and and eggs, which they would sell at the local market and most households would spin their own yard and knit stockings. A whole community would get together when it was time to kill a pig and everything would be done in one day, cutting up the meat, curing it and making the sausages etc. This was not the consumer society we know, but some things had to be brought in and fashion was beginning to make its mark.
For the Illegitimate Montague my heroine, Amber Hall is a clothier with a warehouse/shop in Castonbury and I have no doubt that she purchased at least some of her cloth from some of the many wholesale drapers in Manchester, which was only about 30 miles away.
There were no dress shops as such in the Regency: those wanting new clothes would buy their cloth from a clothier, or if they lived in London they would have access to more specialised silk warehouses. The clothes would then have to be made, either by the women of the house, or those rich enough would employ a dressmaker or modiste. They would most likely copy one of the fashion plates from the Ladies Magazine, or La Belle Assemblée.
Country families who rarely came to London could appoint the proprietor of a London coaching inn to act as their agent for shopping and other business, and the goods they ordered would be sent back to them on the mail coach – the very first “mail order”! Many provincial shopkeepers would travel by mail coach to London to buy goods from the wholesalers. In the early 1780’s Elizabeth Towsey (who, with her sister Susannah kept a milliners in Chester) travelled to London twice a year to select from the new season’s fashions. When the goods arrived, she put an advertisement in the local paper, inviting customer to come and inspect them. (Susannah later married a druggist, Mr Brown, and their son carried on the millinery business, which became a famous department store, Brown’s, in Chester).
Some families did not have a London agent, but would rely upon the county carriers, whose waggons travelled from the larger towns to appointed London inns – this was slower than the mail coach, but considerably cheaper, too.
Now, all the above would apply to the wealthier families, but for most of the villagers, new clothes were a rare occurrence. I found some fascinating snippets of information about country life in a book written by Anne Hughes, a farmer’s wife who lived at the end of the 18th century (The Diary of a Farmer’s Wife, 1796-1797.)
Anne’s village was in Monmothshire, and probably a little more remote than Castonbury, but although she does a great deal of sewing and she talks of her mother-in-law knitting hose and her maid spinning yarn, the only mention of a new clothes is when her husband has been paid for his harvest and he buys her a new gown. Anne does not mention buying cloth or gowns for herself, although when she goes to market and sells her butter (for 7 pence a pound) she does buy a ribbon for her maid Sarah’s hair.
Clothes were passed down the social strata – the lord and lady of the manor passing on their unwanted garments to the villagers and farmers of the area – and no one is offended by this. When it is her husband John’s birthday, Anne says “…I did give him a pair of blue velvet britches, which my dear lady’s mother did give me in my parsell, and which pleased him mitilie, he liking the good small cloes to his leg covering.”
Anne also passed on some of her older clothes to her maid Sarah. When Anne and her husband are invited to the parsonage to drink tea, Sarah is invited too and doesn’t know what to wear …”so we up to my chamber where I did give her a purple velvitt out of my chest… It fitte her finely, so I did tell her to wear it with her warm cloke and nitted bonnitt.” In fact, it must have looked very good, because Sarah ended up marrying the parson!
When it is announced that Sarah is to be married, there is much talk of sewing sheets and linen for her chest, and Anne’s brother in law sends a package for Sarah, which contains “verrie fine linen for the making of sheets and damask for the tablecloths for her tables. And, as well, a verrie fine piece of white satin with a little blue flower upon it, and some fine lace for trimming.”
The satin was later used to make Sarah’s wedding gown “and it do look very nice, all trimmed with the fine lace and some at the sleeves and throat.”
However, before we think that village life in the Regency was a non-stop sunny idyll, there could be disagreements – Anne most definitely took against one Parson’s wife, a Mrs Ellis. She says that when they were walking to church together “Mistress Ellis…minsed along aside me prating of her new cloathes and that the gown she is waring cost so much, which I doe know is onlie her last yeres turned about and new bowes on for show. This I cappes by saying I will show her my new brockade which Jon bought me last market day….. After we had dined, I did take her to my sleepin chamber to showe off on her my best cloes; at seeing which, she begins to trump up about her new black sylk, which had cost so much and which I do know she did buy off Mary Ann, herself telling me so. Knowing this I could well afford to bring out my black sylk with the white spottes, what John did buy for me and which I had not put on. This did end her bounce so down again. It being two howers since she had fed, to tee drinken.”
And again, when Anne sees a “flighty piece in church” – “April ye 12 – We to church this evening….I did see Sarah Anne Plummer was there, tossing her head about, on which was a new bonnet, that I doubte be paid for: she being a shiftless body. I did also spot Mistress Jones….very high and mighty and aping the great lady, she wearing a verrie queer head covering, like a platter, albeit not so big, with great store of flowers upon it and ribbons adandering therefrom, in which she did look a sight to be sure. She did also wear a bright red gown of a cottony stuff, and not silk as I could see verrie well and she did throw off her cloak to show her finery, but la ’twas but trumperie stuff ….”
I do not know what Anne would have made of my heroine Amber’s warehouse – certainly Amber made sure her stock wasn’t “trumpery stuff” but I can imagine that the ladies of the village would have been vying with each other to look their best and more than one would have ribbons “a-dandering” from their bonnets!
Sarah Mallory
The Illegitimate Montague – #5 in the Castonbury Park Series

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Book must get turned in tomorrow!!!  No time to stop, no time to think!!!  And also I am still recovering from a bridal shower my friends held for me last weekend (a lingerie shower–lots of pretty, frilly gifts.  And chocolate cake!  And mimosas!)

Proper post for next week.  In the meantime, you can read about the history of bridal showers here and wish me deadline luck.

What did you get at your bridal shower?  What would be your fantasy present??

Today I am closing in on The End of the WIP, but am definitely going to take a break and get out to vite (as I hope everyone is!!)  In the meantime, I am re-running a personal favorite post of mine from the last election in 2008 about the role of women in 18th century politics

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been doing some volunteer work at a political campaign office, getting ready for the Super Tuesday primary on February 5. It’s mostly answering phones, stuffing envelopes, handing out bumper stickers and yard signs–not hugely glamorous. But it’s made me think about Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, and her Whig friends in the 18th century. And about how political campaigns have–and haven’t–changed in 200+ years.

“Ladies who interest themselves so much in the case of elections, are perhaps too ignorant to know that they meddle with what does not concern them” –The Morning Post, March 1784.

Georgiana first met Charles James Fox in 1777, when he visited Chatsworth. At 28, he was already marked out as the future leader of the Whigs. Until then his political career had veered between success and failure, and Georgiana spent her time flitting around, partying and racking up debts. But they both wanted, and were capable, of much more. They spent that visit discussing ideas. Fox instilled in Georgiana a devotion to the Whigs, who by the 1770s stood for opposition to the King, mistrust of powers of the crown, and vigilance over civil liberties.

“One day last week, her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire appeared on the hustings at Covent Garden. She immediately saluted her favorite candidate, the Hon. Charles James Fox” –The Morning Post, September 25, 1780

Georgiana began following the debates in Parliament and perfecting her skills as a political hostess. She became the leader of an elite group of political females that included her sister Harriet Ponsonby, the Duchess of Portland, Lady Jersey, Lady Carlisle, Mrs. Bouverie, and the Waldegraves, yet none ever outshown her, or came in for the extent of criticism she did.

In 1780, Richard Brinsley Sheridan (playwright, politician, and lover of Georgiana’s sister Harriet) asked for Georgiana’s help. She arranged for him to stand in the Spencer-dominated borough of Stafford (he was elected, natch). A week later, on Sept. 25, Fox asked her to accompany him as he contested the borough of Westminster. In this case, she only stood on the platform for a few minutes, but the press was Shocked.

“The Duchess of Devonshire’s attendance at Covent Garden, perhaps, will not secure Mr. Fox’s election; but it will at least establish her pre-eminence above all other beauties of that place, and make her a standing toast in all the ale-houses and gin-shops of Westminster” –Morning Post, April 8, 1784

In 1782, the Whigs came to power with Fox as Foreign Secretary. Under Parliamentary rules, MPs selected for office had to re-offer themselves to their constituents, and Fox again asked Georgiana to help him out. He wanted her to lead a women’s delegation, and on April 3 she performed her first official duty for the party. She and the other ladies, wearing Whig colors of buff and blue, spoke under large banners reading ‘Freedom and Independence’ and ‘The Man of the People.’ She was a sensation. Fans bearing her portrait sold in the hundreds.

Her involvement in politics only grew after the birth of her first child (Little G) in 1784. The Duc de Chartres and his French delegation treated her as their official hostess; her influence with the Prince of Wales was well-known. But also in 1784, the Whigs were low in public opinion as they formed a Coalition against Prime Minister Pitt and the King. In March, Pitt called a general election, setting off a storm of campaigning.

On March 17, Georgiana appeared at the opera, to much cheering–and booing and hissing. The Duchess of Rutland, a Tory hostess, stood up in her box and shouted, “Damn Fox!” In reply, Lady Maria Waldegrave leaped up and retorted, “Damn Pitt!” This must have been highly entertaining! The most noise I’ve ever heard at the opera was once when the guy sitting behind me fell asleep and started snoring.

“The Duchess made no scruple of visiting some of the humblest of electors, dazzling and enchanting them by the fascination of her manner, the power of her beauty, and the influence of her high rank” –Horace Walpole


But Georgiana also suffered threats and abuse as she went about her campaigning. By the end of her first week, she was exhausted and hoarse, with blistered feet. Fox was still behind in the polls. Georgiana wrote to her mother Lady Spencer, “I gave the Election quite up, and must lament all that has happened.” The Pittite papers, like the Morning Herald, reported that she exchanged kisses for votes, and scurrilous cartoons appeared. (She sent deputies out to buy up the most offensive of them as soon as they appeared!). Fox did eventually score a victory, and Carlton House saw nights of celebratory balls and dinners.

Until the next election…

Have you ever done any work in politics? And where can I get one of those blue suits Keira Knightley has on in the film still? I LOVE that costume!

Quick post today–I am finishing up the WIP to get it turned in by (hopefully) the end of the week!  This is something a little different for me, the first in a mystery series.  It’s set in the early Elizabethan period (book one is 1558, right before Elizabeth becomes queen; book two will take place around the coronation in January 1559).  It has a heroine–Kate Haywood, the daughter of the queen’s chief musician (and a musician herself, who discovers a new talent for solving murders).  It has a title–Murder at Hatfield House.  It has a release date–October 2013.  And I have a new pseudonym–Amanda Carmack.  Now it must get finished.

Here are a couple pics of the setting:

And some pretty dresses (my heroine gets to dress up a lot more in book two, tentatively titled Murder at Westminster Abbey), which I am very excited about, of course!!

I’m also worrying about East Coast friends (thankfully many of them post Facebook updates), thinking about last minute wedding stuff (7 weeks away!), and trying to get back onto a regular exercise routine, which I have been slacking on for too long.  I hope everyone has a good, safe week….

Sexy French Chefs, Naughty Women, and Food
~ by Ann Lethbridge ( http://www.annlethbridge.com)
Lady of Shame is # four in the eight part Castonbury Park Series. Available in print in the UK now, and as e-book in North America, it is also coming out in print, in a duo with book three, in January 2013, with HQN titled Ladies of Disrepute. I must say I am loving these titles, and I just had to take a picture of the whole series, they look so lovely on my bookshelf.
I have always been fascinated by the kitchens in the stately homes I have visited over the years, so I the idea of having a sexy French chef as my hero was as irresistible as a chocolate soufflé.
As was the thought of the scandal if one of the ladies of the house should be tempted by a lowly, if handsome and charming, chef. And just think of the problems a trouble in the kitchen would cause for the same lady who was trying to woo a new husband. After all the way to a man’s heart is supposedly through his stomach.
Part of my fascination with kitchens and cooking at this time stems from the changes occurring during Regency. The move forward into our modern world. The mass production of iron and copper goods made it possible for chefs to stock their domains with every size and shape of saucepan and novel gadget. There were other innovations too, such as the use of metal grates and hobs which made boiling and stewing faster and easier. Easier is a relative term, of course. Today it would all sound like terribly hard work.
Also at the end of the Napoleonic wars, British nobility once more embraced everything French from fashions to food. There was an influx of French chefs, including the great Carême himself, once chef to Napoleon Bonaparte who came to work for the Prince Regent.
Menus in this age of excess were not about eating. They were about theatre and taste and extravagance. I quickly discovered in my research – warning the following may not be for those with weak stomach and you may want to skip ahead – that many of the foods eaten in the Regency are never seen on tables today. At least not on mine. Such things as cockscombs (wattles), cocks-stones (you can take a guess at what that is I am sure), eels, lamb brains and calves udders, to name but a few, were considered delicacies. Um none of those show up in my book you will be happy to hear.
A dinner at a nobleman`s house would be designed to show his wealth and prestige. For example, an intimate dinner for four people would have at a minimum a first course of eight dishes and a second course of nine dishes, followed by a dessert course of four or five dishes. Each course would be put on the table in large serving dishes all at once in perfect symmetry, in a pleasing balance to the eye. Guests would pass the platters nearest to them to those that requested them. The gentlemen would carve the roasts for the ladies.
Here is a sample menu of the first course for one such small intimate dinner designed by Louis Eustache Ude, Ci Devant Cook to Louis XVI and the Earl of Sefton. The cook book then goes on to give the recipes, or receipts as they were called, and if you are interested you can find them on line.
Soup Course
Soupe printannier, or spring soup
Crimp cod and oyster sauce
Two Removes
Foul àla Montmorenci, garnished with a ragout à l`Allemande
Ham glazed with Espangnole
Four Entrées
Fricassée of chicken with mushrooms
Lamb chops sauté with aspargust, peas, etc.
Fillets of fat chicken, sauté au supreme
Petits pâtés of fillet of fowl a la béchamelle
And that is just the first course. If you are wondering about the term “ removes “ These are the dishes put on the table while the staff clear away the soup, so you are not left sitting with nothing to eat before the entrées arrive.
I used this book and others to create my menus for the story, but sadly to my hero’s chagrin all does not go well with the meals.
Here is a short excerpt:
Claire watched him from the corner of her eye, looking forward to the same reaction of pleasure and delight that had accompanied the first course. As hostess of the dinner, the credit would fall to her as well as the Duke’s famous French chef.
Dyer masticated with evident pleasure, then his face turned red, he gazed wildly around and then lifted the table cloth and spat the contents of his mouth into its folds.
Everyone at the table stared at him in astonishment, too polite to say anything, but clearly revolted by the sight.
Mr Dyer’s face turned purple. He grabbed up his wine glass and gulped its contents, while fanning his hand in front of his face.
“Mr Dyer,” Claire said. “Are you all right? Did you swallow a fishbone?” There should not have been any in this dish. This she had agreed with Andre.
He coughed and spluttered and drank some more wine. “All right?” He choked out. “No, I am not all right.”
His mother patted his back. Miss Seagrove did the same thing from the other side.
Claire leapt up and poured him a goblet of water from the pitcher on the sideboard. The man seemed ready to expire.
Slowly the gasping and coughing subsided, though the man’s high forehead remained a deep red and beaded with sweat as he drew in one rasping breath after another.
Could he be suffering an apoplexy?
The Reverend Seagrove pulled the fish platter towards him. It was the only dish no one else had sampled. He spooned a small amount onto his plate and tasted it warily.
“Horseradish?” he said, with a wince. “Or too much pepper?”
Mr Dyer, with his bulging eyes and opening and closing mouth as he breathed heavily, looking a bit like the cod that was causing him such distress, shook his head.
Claire blinked. “Are you saying there is something wrong with the food, Reverend?” It wasn’t possible.
He pushed the dish towards her and she dipped her desert spoon into the sauce. She tasted it carefully just on the tip of her tongue and recoiled. It was like eating fire.
What a disaster.
I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but things go downhill from there….
Have you ever had a disaster of a meal? I have and will share mine, if you share yours. The best or rather, worst, story, wins a copy of The Gamekeeper’s Lady.