Brave Enough for Happy Ever After?

 

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It’s that time of year again, when pundits come up with lists of the most important love stories of all time…You’ll often find these make the grade:

Romeo and Juliet (1597) by William Shakespeare

Anna Karenina (1877) by Leo Tolstoy

Doctor Zhivago (1957) by Boris Pasternak

Love Story (1970) by Erich Segal

The Notebook (1996) by Nicholas Sparks

Bridges of Madison County (1992) Robert James Waller

Cold Mountain (1997) Charles Fraizer

The Great Gatsby(1925) by F. Scott Fitzgerald

What do they have in common, dear readers? Here’s my list:

1.They are written by men

2. Things don’t end well.

Now, let’s consider:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813)

Jane Eyre (1847) by Charlotte Bronte

Gone With The Wind (1936) by Margaret Mitchell

Yes. Written by women, and.... everybody gets to survive. Even the heroine of problematic Gone With the Wind is left with the Pandora’s Box gift of hope. 

Why are there so many modern Jane Austen variations? So many sequels to popular HEA (Happy Ever After) romances? Why does Lizzy solve mysteries and the Bennet sisters battle zombies? 

Because romantic happy ever afters are not dead ends of grief and regret (and, as in those crazy kids Romeo and Juliet: bad timing).  

Happy Ever Afters leave us to imagine the future. Did the lovers make good parents? How did they handle the slings and arrows of life? Did they grow stronger together? In short, were they brave enough for their Happy Ever After? 

So… give me Jane Austen’s Emma and and Lizzy. Give me Charlotte’s indomitable Jane, and Shakespeare’s Beatrice and Rosalind and Portia.  They are brave enough to last through a long and wonderful life with their heroes.

A (very!) Brief History of Mining in Cornwall by A.M.Westerling

 Cornwall is known for its wild, craggy shorelines, its history of smuggling, as the location of Daphne du Maruier’s Jamaica Inn and of course Cornish pasties. It’s also known for its landscape which is rich in metallic mineral deposits, particularly tin and copper. In Catherine’s Passion, Book 3 of The Ladies of Harrington House, the hero is in the process of reviving an old tin mine that had flooded. Therefore this blog post will focus on tin mining although copper mining also played a great role in Cornwall’s history.

Mining activity in Cornwall dates back to the Bronze age, where tin was taken out of river valleys or by open cast mining. It was obviously a valuable commodity for there is evidence of trade between Cornwall and northern Europe and the eastern Mediterranean. It was also of great value to Britain as Cornwall (and Devon) were the only local sources of tin.

By medieval times, Cornish tinners were renowned. Because of the valuable resource they provided, they were subject to special taxes, with unique privileges granted by Royal Charter. Cornish stannaries, or the areas where tin was mined, had their own laws and own parliament.  These stannaries were organized to manage the collection of tin coinage, which was the duty payable on the tin mined in that particular area. In my story, the tin ore will be sent to Truro, one of Cornwall’s ‘stannary’ towns. Locally mined tin (and copper) was brought there twice a year for assaying and stamping before shipment. Tinners had special rights, even to the extent of ignoring some of the laws of the land.

As the surface resources faded, tinners dug deeper to follow the lodes. The tin lodes were found in near vertical sheets in the rock. Hard rock mining and draining water from shafts produced skills and machinery that eventually were exported around the world. For example, Cornishman Richard Trevithick invented the Cornish high pressure steam engine, using them to pump water from the mines, lift ore to the surface and crush ore. Once numbering around 3000, Cornish beam engine houses are truly iconic landmarks. (This book about Richard Trevithick and his inventions is available on Amazon.)

Around 25 percent of the Cornish population worked in mines, from the mineral lords and investors to working families. Even the women were involved as bal maidens (bal is Cornish for mine) working “at grass” (above ground), crushing ore into fragments by hammer on anvil with only big hats called gooks to protect them from bad weather and rock debris. The men worked underground in hot dusty tunnels, running the constant risks of drowning, rock falls, and explosions.

The courage and skills of Cornish hard rock miners provided many a miner with a good living abroad, from the California Gold Rush to Australia, South Africa and beyond. A local who made this journey became known in Cornwall as a Cousin Jack. One theory that these men were called Cousin Jack is because they were always asking for a job for their cousin “Jack” back home. Another theory is that it’s because miners always used to greet each other by cousin and Jack was the most popular name in Cornwall at that time.

It's always an interesting challenge as a writer to include historical detail into works of fiction. I find any research I do always gives me story ideas! Read about Julian Fitzgerald and his tin mine in Catherine's Passion, coming soon from BWL Publishing. 😀

 

*****

You can find all my books on the BWL Publishing website HERE.

Thoughts on Writing a Series by A.M.Westerling

 The Ladies of Harrington House is the first series I’ve tackled as I usually write single title, stand alone stories. My process remained the same - before I start writing a book, I spend some time researching the time period. The Ladies is a Regency era series, a period I’m familiar with so I didn’t need to do much research. The series originally consisted of three novels however an opportunity arose to write a Christmas novella so I turned that into the prequel. For all the books, I spent a few days getting to know my characters and coming up with plot lines.

I usually keep a letter size file folder for every book I write. In it are my character arcs, notes to myself, daily writing progress and print outs of material I’ve found online that I think are worthwhile to have in hard copy, particularly if it’s something I can use for other books ie names, Regency slang, Regency clothing, types of carriages, etc.

However, in the case of The Ladies of Harrington House, I put together a series bible in a three-ring binder as I needed to keep track of details throughout all the books as of course the characters appear throughout the series.

I have separate sections for Sophie, Leah, Catherine and Evelyn, plus sections that are pertinent to all four such as a description of Harrington House and its servants and a description of the fictional town of Trewater. At the front I have a map of Cornwall marked with the location of the Harrington lands. 

A close up of the character tabs - in case you're wondering, Evelyn is included in the Characters section - I suppose I could add a tab for her but I know where to find her so it works.

Peaking out from the back (above) are the pertinent research print outs of Cornish history, covering such things as mining, smuggling and fishing in the area.

As I write, I jot down notes for each character in their appropriate section to make sure I’m consistent with their appearance and to keep the names straight. This is particularly important the deeper into the series I go.

I’m more of a pantser but I always have certain scenes that I know I will be including. In Sophie’s Choice, it’s the scene in the library where Sophie finds incriminating papers on Bryce. In Leah’s Surrender, it’s the shipwreck scene. I’ve just started Catherine’s Passion and already I know I will be including a scene where a mining disaster will involve the hero, Julian. For Evelyn’s Christmas Beau, the prequel, it’s the final scene under the mistletoe.

Over the years I’ve learned not to spend too much time plotting because invariably my characters run the show. When that happens, I know I’m on the right track!

It’s the first time I had to write a series blurb and this is what I came up with:

The Ladies of Harrington House is an exciting new series from BWL Publishing that is set in Regency era Cornwall. Three sisters, three stories: Sophie Harrington, the independent minded one determined to choose her own husband. However, has she lost her heart to the wrong man? Leah Harrington, the prim and proper miss. She survives a shipwreck but can she survive heartbreak? And Catherine Harrington, the quiet musician. Will her passion for the keyboard lead to passion in a man’s arms?

The first two books are already available HERE. 

 

Evelyn's Christmas Beau will be available in October of this year and Catherine's Passion is coming in January 2022. 

******

The Cariboo Road by A.M.Westerling

One of the things I enjoy the most about writing historical romance – along with writing about love, of course! – is doing the research. Accurate research was especially important when I wrote Barkerville Beginnings, Book 4 of the Canadian Historical Brides Collection issued by BWL Publishing in honour of Canada’s 150^th birthday. The participating authors were instructed to write a story that combined fact with fiction. The challenge was on! I chose to write about Barkerville as I visited there a couple of times while on vacation.

Barkerville was a gold rush town in the interior of British Columbia that sprang up in the 1850’s. During its heyday. it was thought to be the largest town west of Chicago however, now it’s a ghost town and known as the Historic Townsite of Barkerville. Here I am on main street and below that is the Barkerville church:

 

During the early days of the Cariboo Gold Rush, getting there presented a serious challenge to the miners as Barkerville was located 400 miles north and east of Yale. Thick underbrush clogged the mountainous route and some of the mountain passes still had five feet of snow in April. Parts of the journey north were extremely dangerous and horses and their owners would often fall to their deaths over the mountains or drown in the swift and deep waters of the Fraser and Thompson Rivers. Below you can see the Fraser River and how high the road was built to traverse the Fraser Canyon:

However, the success of the gold fields and the great influx of people made it necessary to improve access. The governor at that time, Governor James Douglas, determined that a safe road was required and the Royal Engineers were engaged for the task. In October of 1861, Colonel Richard Clement Moody recommended that the Yale to Barkerville route through the Fraser Canyon be built for the benefit of the country. The Royal Engineers assessed the route and suggested it be built in sections: Yale to Spuzzum, Spuzzum to Lytton, Lytton to the Lillooet Junction, Lillooet to Fort Alexandria, and Quesnel to Barkerville. It was a particularly difficult section to construct because of mud, swamp and fallen trees. You can still see a portion of the original road outside of Lytton:

When it was completed, some people called it the “Eighth Wonder of the World.”

Rose, a young single mother running from her vengeful ex, and Harrison, a young viscount running from scandal, are the two main characters in Barkerville Beginnings. They meet on the final section of the road between Quesnel to Barkerville.

Intrigued? You can find Barkerville Beginnings HERE.

Or better yet, check out all the great titles in the collection! HERE

The Viking Village of Ribe by A.M.Westerling

My Viking romance A Heart Enslaved is available at your favourite online store HERE.

 *****

A number of years ago, my husband and I were touring Denmark about the time I was thinking of writing a Viking romance. Wouldn’t you know it, but during our travels we came across the Viking village of Ribe, a living museum situated in the south west corner of the Jutland peninsula. We spent a lovely afternoon wandering around the village. It was market day so stalls were set up with merchants selling their wares, including traditional clothing and beautiful woven cloth. 

Traditional crafts were on display as well and I absolutely adored the falcon. 

We wandered around the buildings, clumping along the wooden sidewalks and admiring the gardens surrounded by fences made with woven branches. 

We said goodbye to the three statues guarding the entrance and had one last look of the village as we walked away.

And so ends our little tour of Ribe. I highly recommend visiting this museum if you're ever in Denmark and interested in glimpsing Viking history.

*****

All my books are available through BWL Publishing, HERE. Happy reading! 

Romantic Tropes, a Shocking Parody by Diane Scott Lewis

Warning: Romance Authors, please don't take offence. What you do and do well is wonderful for your eager audience. This is my own experience and feelings.

When I first read Romance Novels, they were racy, sexy, and a woman could have more than one lover. Now they follow a strict formula, and are toned down, unless it's Erotica.
The man and woman must meet in the first few pages; they can't be apart during the story for large chunks of time; and there must be a HEA: happily Ever After.

I read several, but the formula wore me down. I wanted surprises, better historical details, in other words, I wanted straight Historical Fiction with Romantic Elements.


Finally, I decided to write a romance parody, using all the tropes, but making fun of them. The Heaving Breast, Bodice Ripper, but all presented as Tongue-in-Cheek.
I tried to parody all the tropes writers are supposed to avoid: The arranged marriage. The Alpha make who's a jerk, until our heroine tames him. He's in a position of power over her. He insults her (but in my story, she insults him right back). She's devastatingly gorgeous. He's handsome and brooding There's so many, the list could go on.
But I do give them a HEA.

Excerpt:

“How is your sojourn in London, my lady? A sudden urge to travel, had you?” Griffin smiled at the rising anger in her blue eyes.

     “How dare you follow me, sir. And drag me into bushes.” Miss Pencavel pulled away from him, chin jutted out. “I told you my wishes in Cornwall. You have wasted your time if you’re here to change my mind.”
         “Truth is, I did have business in town, so it’s not a total waste.” He rocked back on his heels, arms now behind his back. His actions were irrational, and totally alien to his usual demeanor. “You intrigue me, Miss Pencavel, such as a wasp might intrigue one. You wonder how close you may hover before being stung.”
          "You will feel my sting, sir; but nothing else of my person. I will buzz away from your distasteful reach." She slowly licked her ice cream spoon, her breasts heaving.

He laughed and enjoyed baiting her. This slip of a girl provoked him, and that was disconcerting. Most females he understood as connivers or simpletons. Miss Pencavel appeared to be neither. Her eyes shone with an innate intelligence. Why had he followed her into the garden—he had little use for marriage? A wife like her would only get in his way.

He'd provoke her further.

“I've long wanted to ask, are you like your mother, partial to servants and other low-lifes?”

“I might be partial to whoever takes my fancy, a sailor, a groom, a particularly handsome nightsoil man.” She scrutinized him closely. “I’ve heard you have sinister inclinations, not that such things would bother me, being the free-thinking person I am, but I’d rather not be troubled with you.” Yet the wanton glint in her eyes spurred him on.
 

The response I received in reviews shocked me. People were insulted. They left mean reviews on-line, even though in the blurb at the beginning I explained it's a parody, a farce, etc. Here was my Author's Note:

all clichés, redundancies, startling coincidences,

and anachronisms are presented here on purpose.

Don't be offended, I want you to laugh.

To purchase this novel for farce and parody, and my other BWL books: BWL  or Lady Pencavel

Find out more about me and my novels on my website: Dianescottlewis

Diane and husband, at former navy base, Greece

 Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty puppy.

The Vikings in Cornwall by A.M.Westerling

 Find A Heart Enslaved at your favourite online store HERE.

I thought if I wanted to highlight my Viking romance while promoting Sophie’s Choice, Book One of my Regency series, The Ladies of Harrington House set in Cornwall, England, I had better find a link between the two. And sure enough I found it.

Although we tend to think of Cornwall as being in the far west, 1000 years ago Vikings traveling down the Irish Sea considered Cornwall a central gathering point. From here ships sailed to the south of England or across the English Channel to Frankia. They raided often for example attacking the monastery at Padstow in 980 and in 997 sailing up the Tamar river to attack the abbey at Tavistock. 

Photo of the Tamar River By Tony Atkin, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12499850

However, they also traded as actively in the area as they did in the Loire and the Seine valleys. The Orkney sagas indicate that the Vikings used the Isles of Scilly just off the Cornish coast as a base. Lundy, the island in the Bristol Channel, is an Old Norse word for Puffin Island which also proves the Viking route.

There’s not a lot of archaeological evidence of the Vikings in Cornwall – a few sculptures with Scandinavian art motifs such as the cross at Cardinham in East Cornwall on the edge of Bodmin Moor which is similar to works from the Viking age in northern England. Common in Cornwall are “hogback” stone sculptures thought to be grave markers. They’re not found in Scandinavia and are believed to have been invented by Viking settlers in England. They have a pronounced ridge and look like a small stone long house like Lanivet near Bodmin. They may have been the work of itinerant sculptors and it’s a strong possibility the patrons may have been Scandinavian settlers. (Below is a cast of a 10th C hogback stone from Govan Old Parish Church in the Kelvin Grove Art Gallery and Museum in Glascow.)

However, people searching in the West Country over the past few years are discovering increasing numbers of metal objects from the period such as Viking dress-fittings, lead weights, coins and silver ingots. Also all manner of gear for horses which strikes me as odd because I mostly associate Vikings with long ships!

Later during Viking times Cornwall was allowed to continue as an independent nation as long as they paid danegeld to the Kings of Denmark. If you're interested in learning more about the Vikings in Cornwall, you might like to check out the following websites:uth-wst were not immune from the atD,

https://www.cornwalllife.co.uk/out-about/places/the-return-of-the-vikings-1-1631755

www.theconversation.com/viking-invaders-struck-deep-into-the-west-of-england-and-may-have-stuck-around-57598

https://www.thevintagenews.com/2017/01/25/hogbacks-stone-carved-viking-monuments-generally-accepted-as-grave-markers/

***

If you've been following my blog posts on the 25th of every month, you know I've been including excerpts from Sophie's Choice, coming in April. Here's the next one!

 “Oh, I assure you, Lady Sophie, I find none of your skills lacking. You ride admirably well, your voice is lovely and it’s obvious you’re not one to kowtow to society’s rules.” The scamp. Again he referred to their unexpected meeting earlier today.

“By your comments, you demonstrate you are not one to follow proper etiquette,” she sniffed.

He chuckled and poured himself another glass of wine. “What is proper etiquette far from the madding crowd? We comport ourselves as we see fit for the occasion, do we not?”

“Far from the madding crowd? Do you favour the works of Thomas Gray?” She cocked her head and dared look at him full on. So much for being the coquette. Why should that comment surprise her? As a barrister, he would be a man of letters.

He blinked, whether from surprise at her question or her bold stare she didn’t know. “You’re familiar with his poem, “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard?””

“Why does that astonish you?” She finally let go of the table and reached for the wine.

“May I?” He leaned past her and snagged a glass for her. He pointed towards the red wine and at her nod, poured.

She caught the fruity aroma as he handed her the wine and her head spun. Since when did the fragrance wine affect her? When Lord Bryce Langdon handed it to her, that’s when.

“You haven’t answered me,” he said. “About the poem.”

“I do enjoy reading a well written poem,” she began. “Because I enjoy time well spent in my father’s library with a good book of poetry. Shakespeare for one, although that may not be considered pure poetry. Lord Byron. Percy Shelley.”

“Since when do you enjoy poetry?” Leah interrupted. She’d made her way over to stand on the other side of Bryce at the table. “You never comment favorably on what I write.” Her sister flicked open her fan and gazed at him above the lacy edge.

Sophie ground her teeth at the blatant adoration in her sister’s eyes. “I dare say there’s a fair discrepancy between what Gray and Byron write and what you consider poetry.”

“We shall let Lord Langdon be the judge, then, shall we not? It’s almost time for me to read aloud my work and we shall ask.” She fluttered her eye lashes at Bryce, who appeared not to notice.

If Leah batted her eye lashes one more time, Sophie thought, she would bat her sister right out of the room. She’d not stoop to arguing with her in front of Bryce Langdon, though. Instead, she fixed her gaze on her sister and glared. Her sister had the grace to blush; she looked away. Good. Maybe the minx finally realized her behaviour was totally beyond the pale.

“Which I most assuredly look forward to,” said Langdon. A smile hovered over his lips and he clamped his mouth as if to ward it off. “If you ladies shall excuse me, I’ll return to my seat.” He bowed and walked away.

“Really, Leah, must you be so forward? Mama will be having fits over your actions tonight.” Sophie shook her head.

“You’re jealous because he favours me. Did you see the look on his face when I mentioned I wrote poetry? Nothing but admiration.” Leah flounced off.

Lady Harrington stood and raised a hand. “Attention all, shall we continue with our program?” At the murmurs of assent, she waved Leah over to the music stand by the pianoforte, who flipped through the sheaf of papers on the stand.

“My poem is not here,” she said. “I left it here earlier.” She glowered at Sophie. “What have you done with it?”

“Oh my, you must search again. It was there when I finished my piece,” Sophie insisted.

“Lord Langdon, perhaps you could help me search?” Leah cast a beseeching look towards him.

Bryce frowned and he rubbed his hand along his jaw, uncomfortable with the request.

“Come Leah, there’s no need to bother our guest,” said Lady Harrington. “Sophie, perhaps you misplaced it.”

I did not. Leah is playing another one of her tricks. “Let me look.” Someone snickered. Bryce, perhaps? Sophie hoped not. She could smack Leah for her antics this evening, how childish he must find the two of them. At least Catherine had retired to a chair by the window and kept out of it. She watched the proceedings with an innocent look on her face, no doubt enjoying the spectacle being put on by Leah.

Sophie made her way to the stand. “It’s here, you ninnywit,” she whispered to Leah, pulling the sheets of poetry from beneath the music. Sophie raised her voice. “No harm, it’s here. Leah must have missed it in her fluster to read for our company.”

She turned to find a seat; Bryce gestured to the chair beside him, the one on which Leah had sat. Turnabout is fair play, she thought. She glanced at Leah. Her sister’s eyes popped from her head and she looked about to have a fit. Watch me, thought Sophie, watch how a lady comports herself for a gentleman. Although earlier today, he’d implied otherwise and perhaps he had a point seeing as how he had found her bare foot and bare headed. Nonetheless, this evening she would conduct herself beyond reproach and worthy of mention in the pages of WHAT. Bryce rose and offered his hand. She lowered her gaze, placed one hand in his, collected her skirts with the other and sat down.

“Have I mentioned how delightful you look this evening?” When she shot him a glance, he quirked a dark eyebrow.

“I thought you preferred my attire of this afternoon.”

He chuckled at her sharp rejoinder. “Ah, but there’s nothing more lovely than a lady in her evening dress. But yes, you looked delightful earlier. I daresay there’s not a moment you don’t look utterly delightful.”

She flushed at the compliment and looked away. “You are too kind.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hands on his thighs. Firm hands, manicured, a bit tanned. He didn’t spend all his time inside ensconced with his books then. She flapped open her fan and peeked at him from behind the safety of the printed silk. She sat up straight, folded her fan, and put her hands in her lap. This is how a proper lady sat.

She hoped he noticed.

So conscious of his presence was she, she heard none of Leah’s poetry. Not that it mattered, she’d heard those three particular poems many times before. Leah tried but her poetry tended to be quite insipid.

Instead, she could only hear the man beside her – the sough of his breath, slow and steady. The occasional creak of his chair as he shifted position. The tap of his boot on the parquet floor. He leaned down to brush something off his pantaloon and she lifted her nose to catch his scent, a whiff of leather and citrus. So crisp, so masculine, so – enticing.

Leah finished her recitation and Lady Harrington stood, waiting for the applause to die down before saying anything. “Thank you, Leah, that was utterly charming. Now, if all of you could follow me, supper is served. Leah, you and Catherine shall pair.”

“Oh,” Leah pouted. “I had thought to ask Lord Langdon his opinion on my poetry.” She threw a pleading look towards Bryce that made Sophie want to vomit.

“That is quite enough, Leah,” said Lady Harrington. She looked at Bryce. “I must apologize for my daughter’s outspoken ways.”

“If I may, I found the reading most agreeable,” said their guest, oozing politeness. “Lady Leah is indeed a young lady of talent.” Leah preened herself at Bryce’s words and darted a victorious glance in Sophie’s direction. She made a move towards Langdon but one glance from her mother convinced her otherwise and with a shake of the head, she linked her arm with Catherine’s.

Despite Leah’s best attempts and to Sophie’s delight, she found herself paired with Bryce.

“Do you enjoy yourself?” Sophie managed to whisper as they made their way to the dining room. “You must find us bumpkins.”

“Not at all,” he murmured. “I am flattered to find myself considered a prize worth pursuing.” This time a smile spread fully across his lips, brightening his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

So, he had noticed Leah’s behaviour because Leah evidently considered him worth pursuing. However, had he noticed Sophie sitting beside him? Had he been as aware of her as she had been of him?

“I would think many have thought of you as a prize?” A prying question, to be sure and she astonished herself with her boldness. “I must ask, what game do you think we play, sir, that you are the end reward?”

“A game of your choosing.” He inclined his head. “As far as the spoils going to the victor, I suppose some may think me a good catch but it seems to me the attraction must go both ways for any union to be successful. Do you agree?”

Oh my, now who asked the bold question? She looked up at him and his eyes were on her, intent on her answer.

“Why yes. One need only look to my parents to see the proof of that.”

He handed her off and maneuvered past the chairs to his place at the far end of the table. Just as well they didn’t sit together, she was sure she couldn’t eat a bite if he were beside or directly across from her.

But almost every time she looked up, his eyes were on her. And if they weren’t, within a second or two they were, as if he could feel her gaze.

Her stomach fluttered with nerves and excitement at his perusal. It didn’t help her appetite but it helped with her self confidence. He gazed at her.

Not Leah.

Her.

A Jane Austen Christmas

                             

                                  Please click this link for book and purchase information

On a recent trip to Ottawa, Ontario, I went to a play. Miss Bennet: Christmas at Pemberley, a new work produced by Ottawa Little Theatre. Fans of Jane Austen's classic novel, Pride and Prejudice, will instantly recognize the cues in the play's title. Pride and Prejudice is the story of the five Bennet sisters, living in early 19th century England, in search of husbands for fulfillment and financial survival. The novel's hero, Mr. Darcy, owned Pemberley, a great estate.

'Pemberley' in one of the numerous Pride and Prejudice screen adaptations

Christmas at Pemberley takes place two years after Pride and Prejudice. The play opens with Elizabeth Darcy nee Bennet admiring her newfangled holiday decoration, a Christmas tree. Mr. Darcy is appalled by the outdoor tree in his living room. Elizabeth's challenge to his conventionality is true to her character developed in Pride and Prejudice, but I find this domestic conflict lacks the zing of their verbal sparring in the novel. The problem with all Austen novel sequels is that once the lovers resolve their all their problems they become boring. That's why Jane Austen ended their stories at this point. But readers like me keep wanting more of the Bennets and Darcys.

The Christmas tree tradition came to Britain with King George III's German-born wife, Charlotte of Mecklenberg-Strelitz 

The heroine of Christmas at Pemberley is the overlooked middle Bennet sister, Mary. In the novel, Austen portrays Mary as drearily bookish, Mary also seeks attention by forcing her mediocre piano playing on hapless attendees at neighbourhood parties. The authors of the new play rightly realized that Mary's love of reading and music has a positive side. She wants more from life than her sisters. When the family gathers at Pemberley this Christmas, Mary meets her soul mate, Darcy's equally bookish cousin. It doesn't hurt that the cousin is handsome and rich.

But romantic complications and misunderstandings ensue. Most of them are initiated by Lydia, the selfish youngest Bennet sister who'd foolishly eloped with the scoundrel Wickham. Their hasty marriage has fallen apart and Lydia wants the rich cousin for herself.

I won't give away the rest of the plot, except to say that when Jane, the perpetually sunny oldest Bennet sister sympathizes with Lydia and treats her with kindness, Lydia changes. For me, this was the most surprising character development in the play. Who knew Lydia had it in her?

The five Bennet sisters

In the play, I also liked the guy friendship between Darcy and Jane's sunny husband, Bingley. After the men discuss the problems between Mary and the cousin, they agree they must do something to help. Darcy and Bingley jump to their feet and say, "Let's go to the sisters," instantly recognizing that relationship repair isn't guy territory.

Colin Firth, my favourite screen Darcy, with his friend Bingley

Calgary Playwright Eugene Stickland has said that writing a Christmas play is a practical move for writers because theatre companies across the country look for ones to produce every year. A good play for the season results in repeated royalties for the author.

This has got me thinking about Kitty, Bennet sister # 4 and the most overlooked sister of all. Austen portrays her in the novel as no more than Lydia's sidekick, lacking the pizazz of her younger sister. Kitty is absent from the Pemberley play's Christmas shenanigans, merely referred to as spending the holidays in London. This makes Kitty almost a blank slate for a modern writer. If Lydia can change, why not Kitty?

My Austen-inspired play would focus on Kitty emerging from the shadows of her colourful sisters and growing into her own person. Set at Christmastime, somewhere in Austen-land. Kitty will need a suitor who's right for her, perhaps a man who has also been overlooked. Plenty of complications and misunderstandings along the way will lead them to true romance. A winning Jane Austen Christmas.