Today I welcome fellow writing group member, Isabella Hargreaves, to my blog. Isabella’s debut Historical novel – The Persuasion of Miss Jane Brody - was released in December.
Firstly, may I offer huge congratulations on the successes you’ve already had with this wonderful novel.
Short-listed: Australian Romance Readers Awards 'Favourite Historical Romance' category.
Steam eReads 'Some Like it Hot' Romantic Fiction Competition 2013 - second place.
http://steamereads.com.au/
Who was the inspiration for Miss Jane Brody?
My inspiration for The Persuasion of Miss Jane Brody was the life and writings of Mary Wollstonecraft (1757-1797) who wrote the early feminist treatise The Vindication of the Rights of Woman in 1792. It was ridiculed by most people aware of its content including intellectual women in Society at the time. The term ‘bluestocking’, used to label an educated woman, was a term of derision for most of the nineteenth century.
This story arose from asking “how would a supporter of Mary Wollstonecraft’s views cope with falling in love?” That someone, for me, was Jane Brody, a member of an intellectual family, who not only absorbed Wollstonecraft’s views but advocated them as well. Like Wollstonecraft, she fell in love and in doing so tried to find a way to retain her principles while committing to her lover.
Is there a little of the politically charged Miss Brody in yourself?
I guess as someone who believes in the equality of women then I do reflect Jane Brody’s views; but in this day and age, so do most women in the western world.
What was the hardest part about writing this novel?
I think the hardest part about writing this novel was its resolution. How to get a satisfying ending where the hero risks all for his heroine? Unfortunately, I couldn’t have the Marquis of Dalton make his proposed speech to Parliament promoting the equality of women because none was made by a member of the House of Lords on the rights of women until much later in the nineteenth century. The earliest writing advocated female suffrage was by Englishman Jeremy Bentham, (1748-1832), a leading philosopher and political radical, in his 1817 book, A Plan for Parliamentary Reform. He was well ahead of his time and the idea didn’t take, as the 1832 Great Reform Act in Britain specifically excluded women from voting and it was not until 1851 that a petition calling for women’s suffrage was submitted to the House of Lords - and failed.
Which two mainstream authors would you say your work most closely resembles and why?
I have no idea. My favourite authors are Mary Balogh, Mary Ann Schaffer, Liz Carlyle and Jennifer Crusie, so I would like to think that I had learnt something from their work. I’m now a Noelle Clark fan, so I hope to be creating beautiful ambiance and settings for my characters soon.
What do you think reader will enjoy most about your novel?
Hopefully the interplay between Jane Brody and the Marquis of Dalton because they are so diametrically opposed in their beliefs but attracted to each other at the same time.
What is a typical writing day for you? Do you stick to a regimented pattern of writing so many words per day?
Typically, I write on the train, to and from full-time work, and sometimes in my lunch time. That amounts to about 40 minutes writing – not very much. Evenings and weekends include more writing, if home and family responsibilities allow it. It’s only really while I’m on annual leave that I make big progress with finishing manuscripts.
Where do you like to write? At your desk, or perhaps wherever looks comfortable at the time?
I write any- and everywhere. I don’t need a computer - paper and pen will do. However, I do like sitting at the desk in my study with the air conditioning on during summer in Brisbane.
Is there anyone who stands out as a mentor in your writing career?
I do have someone who acts as a sounding board for ideas, but I don’t have a mentor for my fiction writing – alas – I would love one. Any volunteers?
***
Thanks for visiting today, and for sharing so generously with us. Again, congratulations on your awards and nominations, and best of luck in the finals. I hope you’ll come back and visit again soon.
Bio
I’m an Australian author of historical romances, mainly set during the Regency period. I’ve read historical fact and fiction since I was a child growing up in Brisbane. That wasn’t enough, so I became a historian and now spend every work day researching and writing about people, places and events from the past. It seemed the perfect idea to combine my love of history and romance in writing historical romances. I write about strong, determined heroines and heroes that aren’t afraid to match them. Recently Steam eReads published my first historical novel, The Persuasion of Miss Jane Brody.
Blurb
Passionate bluestocking Jane Brody, whose mother’s early death left her to raise eight siblings, campaigns to free women from the society’s shackles of poor education, marriage and motherhood. Jonathan Everslie, Marquis of Dalton, must marry. Jane is the only woman who doesn’t bore him; but her politics are dangerous. When Jane's father dies suddenly leaving the family in poverty, the only way out is marriage to the wealthy and conservative Dalton. Can she give up her ideals to marry him and save her family? Does he dare risk his political career by embracing her cause to win her love?
Contact links for Isabella Hargreaves
Web
Amazon
Buy links
Available from: Steam eReads Amazon
Prologue
Grosvenor Square, London,
August 1817
The door to his library opened abruptly and swung
back on its hinges crashing into the bookshelves behind. An erect, grey haired
lady dressed in the latest Parisian fashion marched into the room and stood
before him as he sat behind his oak desk, bathed in early afternoon sunshine.
Jonathan Everslie, Marquis of Dalton, gave her his full attention as she wanted
and smiled in amused anticipation.
Without hesitation she
launched the frontal attack he knew was coming.
“You must marry, Dalton,
you must!” Lady Lucinda Mulgrave was emphatic. “You have a large family of
dependent aunts and cousins and there is no heir to follow you. Do you want
them thrown out on the streets when you die?”
“I must have an heir
somewhere Aunt Lucinda. It only stands to reason. If I were to expire, I’m sure
he would be found.” The new Marquis of Dalton attempted to calm her with logic.
“And would look after his dependents,” he added as an afterthought.
The elderly lady raised
her chin and stared down her aquiline nose at her nephew, her mouth set in a
disapproving line. “There may be a cousin in New South Wales from my youngest
brother who was sent there in exile - but his mother could be a convict for all
we know. It is your duty to marry and beget an heir, and soon.”
“Let me be clear. I know
it is my duty to marry, and soon, Aunt Lucinda, but I won’t marry anyone I consider unsuitable.”
Doggedly, Lady Mulgrave
ploughed on with her lecture. “This is not the time to be fastidious. There are
myriad young ladies every Season, more than suitable for the task – with
impeccable backgrounds and some with money to match.”
The Marquis was
placating. “And I will consider them. However, the Season doesn’t begin for
another seven months, so this conversation is premature.”
“Nonsense, there are many
families with eligible daughters whom you could visit, or invite to stay at Everslie in the meantime.”
“And how do you suggest I
do that?”
“You have your secretary
write invitations and send them, Jonathan.” She glared at him.
“How do I know who these
candidates are?”
“I have a list already
written.” She produced it with a flourish and laid it in front of him on his
desk. “I expect to be presiding over a house party for these ladies and their
families at Everslie by Christmas.”
Having delivered her
message and assuming agreement, Lady Mulgrave nodded to her nephew in
conclusion and sailed from his presence.
In frustration, the
Marquis ran his long fingers through his hair, pushing the short brown curls
from his forehead. He picked up the list and cast a knowing eye down its
length. He had met them all and been bored to the point of irritation by their
simpering ways. He groaned then crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it
into the empty fire grate.
“Stevens!” His man of
business arrived quickly. “Send to the stables for Nate to saddle my horse. I’m
going out for a ride. I believe we have concluded today’s business.”
“Yes, we have my lord,
but have you forgotten that you promised to take your sister to a lecture this
afternoon, as Lady Mulgrave is unavailable?”
Vexed at the impediment
to his escape, he sank back into his chair behind the desk. “Ah, yes, I do
remember. We shall be gone for the afternoon. Thank you Stevens, continue with
your work.” He changed his mind. “No – send word to my solicitor that I shall
see him tomorrow morning.”
“May I tell him what it
concerns, my lord?”
“Yes, I wish to trace the
whereabouts of my uncle in Australia, or his family, should he have met his
maker.”
Stevens nodded compliance
and left to follow the Marquis’ orders.
Alone again, Dalton sank
into a reverie about the onerous obligations that befall those who inherit
titles – that of producing heirs for the benefit of their families. Of course,
he mused, it shouldn’t be an onerous task to find a wife and create a family -
it should be a pleasurable duty. Why wasn’t it turning out that way?
One
He wanted her. Only her.
The Marquis of Dalton
shook his head. Was he mad? Where did
that idea come from?
The room came back into
focus and her words swirled around him. The drawing room in the modest
townhouse, leased by The Reverend William Brody, was awash with late summer
light streaming through its tall arched windows. An assortment of well-loved
chaise longue and chairs were grouped around the simply dressed young woman who
was expounding in her low-pitched voice on a better way to educate young women
to take their place as men’s equals in society.
She had drawn quite a
crowd for this unfashionable time of year. But then again there wasn’t a
fashionable person in the room. Instead, when he looked around, those he
recognised were doctors and the committed few society people who devoted
themselves to philanthropic causes. To his left was Mrs Courtice, an eccentric
elderly widow who supported every charitable cause in the city. Her bird-like
form was clothed in an outmoded dress. That was deceptive. She was neither
timid nor wanting for money. In fact, he knew that her husband had left her
extremely wealthy as there was no entailment on his property and no children to
support.
What was he doing here? In answer he glanced at his sister beside
him. Her pale face contrasted with the dark circles beneath her eyes. She had
urged him to accompany her to this important talk for women.
Oh, he had resisted of
course. What man in his right mind wouldn’t, especially a peer of the realm? To
entertain such notions was to upset the established balance of the world as it
was known. His role was to keep things stable. Bad enough that the working
classes were threatening to rise up against their masters.
Nevertheless, he couldn’t
resist a plea from his sister Elizabeth for long. Her sweet disposition had
always meant that he gave in to her requests - the precious few she made.
Involving herself in charity work from the time she had left the schoolroom,
she had pulled him into supporting her causes with generous donations.
Occasionally he accompanied her when she needed a chaperone other than their
aunt, but he had not escorted her to this residence before.
He focused again on the
speaker. Miss Jane Brody was petite, confident, and articulate. She had the
most beautiful open and earnest face with clear blue eyes. Her wavy golden
brown hair was formed into a severe knot at the back of her head, emphasising
her high cheekbones but not improving her attractiveness at all. He began
imagining how her loosened hair would curl around her slender shoulders. How far would it drape down her naked back?
The audience listened in silence, intent on her message, unaware of his
lascivious thoughts.
Soon the talk ended. For
a moment there was stillness then polite applause began. As hostess, the
speaker invited all to join her for tea, which two servants brought in on cue.
A hubbub of conversation followed as a number of guests surged towards her.
Elizabeth took Jonathan’s arm and urged him forward into the throng around the
woman now presiding behind the large teapot.
Apparently Elizabeth knew
the speaker. She skirted the chairs, guiding him to the young woman in her
daffodil yellow summer dress. Jane Brody looked like sunshine and he was being
drawn to her. The thick carpet hushed his highly polished Hessian boots but the
tassels swished against them as he strode forward, catching her attention he
noticed as she looked up at their approach. Her gaze openly admired his form
and air.
Elizabeth introduced them
in her breathy voice and Jonathan courteously responded. “Charmed to meet you
Miss Brody. My sister insisted that I accompany her to hear your views.” And I will certainly do so again after
seeing how very much more attractive you are close up.
“I’m delighted to meet
you Lord Dalton. I trust I have convinced you that women have voices which
ought to be heard. This fraternity needs people in high places such as you to
spread the word and convince men that women are entitled to equal rights.”
Surprised by her calm
expectation that he was a supporter of her women’s cause, Jonathan felt
compelled to disabuse her. “I’m afraid that I do not yet believe there is
reason or need for women to demand an equal place in our society.”
“If they do not need
equality of rights, then why do women die every day from too many confinements
weakening their health?” she demanded quietly.
“Unfortunately they do
die,” he replied. His face was impassive. “But that is an issue for man and
wife to debate and settle – not society as a whole. And surely not a subject
for an unmarried woman to concern herself with?”
“And how do you expect
women to control their reproduction if they are not permitted to discuss the
question and the means before they
are wed? Afterwards it becomes a fait
accompli, does it not?” she queried.
Her smile was still in
place and her voice was calm but, Jonathan noted, there was a look of fierce
determination on her face. He expected she may be a formidable opponent if
pitted against him.
“So I can count on your
maiden speech in parliament being on the topic of women’s rights my lord?” she
added.
Good God; had she left hold of her sanity like old King
George?
“I’m afraid not Miss Brody, I will not be lecturing my peers on such a personal
topic.” He hoped the conversation was at an end, but he saw a battle light in
her eyes and suspected she would not let him off the hook.
She spoke quietly. “I
took you for a man of greater moral fibre my lord. I see I was mistaken.” She
turned to his sister and then Mrs Courtice on her right offering them tea and
cake.
He was dismissed – as if
of no further interest or use to her. It was an unfamiliar feeling – of being
ignored by an unmarried woman, or by anyone else for that matter. Stunned, he
stepped back from the group and strode away to talk with Dr Logan, the
middle-aged doctor who aided a mission in Wapping for unmarried mothers. It was
a charity to which Jonathan had given funds for some time but in which he had
never taken a close interest, preferring instead to let his money do the work.
He listened distractedly to the doctor but his mind was churning.
This woman, this Miss
Jane Brody, the daughter of a clergyman, had challenged his very usefulness in
the world and found him wanting. Anger flared in him. By what right did she feel she could do that? Did she truly believe
that women were the equal of men? Obviously
she did. He cast his eye around the room. Did all these people hold the same belief and expectation? It was a
sobering thought.
The anger died as quickly
as it rose. Why be angry at being called to account? Better to be curious and
find out more about her ideas like the man of letters which he was. He vowed to
investigate her and her writings, find the flaws in her beliefs and make sure
that she could never put him on the back foot again.
His eyes were drawn to
her slight but womanly figure seated at ease amongst the China tea set. She
looked so right there; as did most ladies of his acquaintance. It was a
charming and attractive sight. But she wasn’t chatting about the weather and
fashions and events for the upcoming Season like others. Instead she and her
fellow bluestockings and philanthropists were discussing ways of changing the
order of things in society.
She was a disturbing
phenomenon.
***
Jane seethed. While smiling and serving her
guests she sensed Lord Dalton’s eyes on her. He was the most annoying man.
First his narrow-minded attitudes and now his steady brown-eyed gaze upon her.
He was every inch the Corinthian, from his short brown hair swept upon his brow
and his tall athletic body clad in the best of men’s fashion, to his shining
Hessian boots. Obviously good looks, a
wonderful physique and enormous wealth did not ensure intelligence and manners!
What a contrast to his
delightful and thoughtful sister. Jane had met Lady Elizabeth a number of times
at meetings of charity groups over the last few months. The last encounter had
been at a ball when Lady Elizabeth had been accompanied by her aunt, Lady
Lucinda Mulgrave. The aunt had seemed a typical society matron intent on
pushing her niece forward into a suitable match. It appeared the brother might
do the same.
Having met two examples
of the family Jane hoped these traditionalists were not pressuring Lady
Elizabeth to accept the usual role for women before she was old enough to think
for herself.
Jane had one sister
already married and the next one, Anna, was keen to find a husband. Jane
couldn’t understand the haste or the reasoning - she was glad to be unshackled
by husband and children who would claim every moment of her day. Instead, she
enjoyed devoting her spare time to charitable work when not supervising her
father’s household and organising her three youngest siblings who were still
living at home. Now nineteen, Anna required only escorting to public events
from time to time, while the younger pair still needed tutoring, which she
shared with her father.
Her other sister
Charlotte had married about a year ago, at what Jane felt was the very young
age of twenty. Despite all her counselling to wait a little longer, until she
was at least of age and better knew her fiancé - a cavalry officer - Charlotte
had persuaded their father to give his consent to the marriage. She was now
residing near Portsmouth close to the cavalry regiment’s encampment. Too far
away for frequent visiting, leaving only weekly letter writing between the
sisters as their means of communication.
Eight years after his
wife’s death her father, the Reverend Brody, had not recovered his zest for
life, nor much interest in the people and events around him. He seemed to have
shrunk inside his clothes; his hair had gone white and his laughter rare. In
the interim Jane had taken over much of his charity work.
Marshalling her thoughts,
Jane involved herself in the conversation between Mrs Courtice and Lady
Elizabeth going on beside her. “Have you been well, Lady Elizabeth?” asked
Jane.
“Yes, much improved since
the cloudy, foggy days have gone,” she responded. “As long as London’s sky
remains clear my cough is non-existent. If the weather changes I may have to
retreat to the country again, like last Spring. My brother keeps a close eye on
me and whisks me away if my symptoms start.”
“Indeed, he is a very
caring, solicitous brother from what you say,” Jane conceded.
Lady Elizabeth nodded. “I
do wish I could convince him to take up your cause now that he is to take his
place in the House of Lords. The rights of women need to be recognised so that
we may have some chance of independence in these tumultuous times.”
“Yes, we need
a champion in high places if we are to spread your message Jane,” agreed Mrs
Courtice. “It is not enough for us to just perform charity work to help women
who have fallen on hard times. We need to change the way society thinks of
women. We are not inferior to men. We ought to be educated to assume our
rightful place beside them.”
Her look
pierced Jane. “You must continue to
write your pamphlets about our cause Jane. It is valuable work.”
“I hope never to stop
until our aim is achieved Mrs Courtice,” Jane agreed. “But we still need a
patron – preferably a man of influence.”
“Then you must try to
convince my brother to take up our cause Miss Brody,” said Lady Elizabeth. “If
anyone can do it, it is you. He has always been complacent about social issues
but now that he has inherited his title, he has the ability to effect change.
He needs a good shake up.”
“How should I go about
that Lady Elizabeth? He seemed quite adamant that he was against women’s rights
when I spoke with him a little while ago.”
“Don’t let one failed
attempt put you off! Come to see me tomorrow morning. He is always in his study
working with his man of business before luncheon. I will ensure that you get
the opportunity to talk with him there.”
Jane wondered why she
felt as though she would be bearding the lion in his den when she visited the
handsome, yet reactionary, Lord Dalton to convert him to their cause.
Thanks for having me on your Journeys with Noelle!
ReplyDeleteAn absolute pleasure to have you visit! :-)
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