When I first saw Emmeline Devereux, my heroine in His Dark Enchantress, she was soaking wet with her long black hair plastered to her head and her dress cloaking her like a second skin. I saw her clearly, I knew her name, I knew she liked horses, I knew she was venturesome and then…what was I going to do with her? She really didn’t tell me anything more about herself and each time I put her into a story, it just didn’t work out for her or for me.
I’m sure there are many authors who will know exactly what I mean just as I’m equally sure that non-writers will shake their heads in disbelief or despair that anyone could be so fanciful. But it’s being fanciful that gets books written and on the shelves for readers to enjoy, or not, as the case may be.
Emmaline bugged me for weeks. I first gave her a Lara Croft type role. Anyone not familiar with that name might be more familiar with the Tomb Raider video game series that morphed into the 1993 movie starring Angelina Jolie. A remake featuring Alicia Vikander is currently playing. That role wasn’t quite right for Emmaline nor were any of the more contemporary settings I tried putting her in. A western romance didn’t work at all as she didn’t like the clothes. Once I knew that clothes had to be right for her, I started dressing her in different costumes. Maybe she was a Regency belle all along because as soon as I dressed her in a muslin gown, spencer jacket, and wide-brimmed bonnet everything fell into place and the words just flowed.
They weren’t necessarily good words, but first drafts rarely are. The purpose of a first draft is to get the story out of the author’s head and into a working document. Making it pretty and interesting comes with rewrites and revisions, help from critique partners and beta readers and a whole village of people. Here is an excerpt from His Dark Enchantress. I hope you enjoy it.
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With Emmaline gone to the village, Lucius took a gun and two of his spaniels and set out across the park for a far covert where he hoped to flush out a brace of pheasant.
The September afternoon basked under a clear blue sky. The gentlest of breezes occasionally buffeted his face and ruffled his hair, and all was as perfect as it could be. He traipsed through the fields, clambered over walls and fences that he would be jumping over once the hunting season started, got his feet wet in the trout stream that ran close to the southern boundary of the Park and the Beamish estate, and returned home well satisfied.
He cut through the stable yard after leaving the dogs in the kennels and noticed the carriage house door ajar. Curious, he pulled it open.
The place where the gig should have been was still empty.
Puzzled, he closed the door and checked Sadie’s stable. It was also empty. He looked up at the stable yard clock. It was gone five.
Panic gripped his heart, almost stilled his breathing.
He charged up the stairs to the grooms’ quarters, two at a time bellowing for Noble who met him at the door.
“What time did her ladyship leave, Noble, and who accompanied her?” he barked.
“She left a little after noon, my Lord, and insisted she drive herself.”
“Did she indeed?” Lucius seethed inwardly but paused for a moment, holding his temper. “And you let her go alone? Where were your wits? Saddle a hunter, Noble, I’ll go to Nettleford across country.”
As soon as the horse was ready, Lucius set off at a steady gallop across the park, scattering the herds of fallow deer and sheep that grazed there.
Damn her. The pig was one thing, but driving off without a groom? Who did she think she was to drive herself unaccompanied? And how could Noble have been so foolish as to let her go alone?
He steadied the horse for a post and rail fence, soared over it and picked up the pace across the next field. A gate and two hedges later he was pounding along the road into the village where he pulled up abruptly and dismounted outside the inn.
“Jackson.” he roared as he pushed into the taproom.
The landlord had already heard him and sent a boy to take the horse and now met him in the corridor.
“What’s amiss Milord?”
“Have you seen her Ladyship?” Lucius demanded.
“Put the gig up here while she did some visiting, left about mid-afternoon.”
“Then where the devil is she?” Fear replaced the panic in Lucius’ heart and he cursed himself for not having asked the whereabouts of those she planned to visit.
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