Queen Anne Stuart- Part One- The Princess Bride by Rosemary Morris

For more information on Tangled Love please click here.



About Rosemary Morris

Every day my daily routine begins at six a.m. when I make a cup of herbal tea. After I drink it, I turn on the laptop. With time out to have breakfast I write – my goal is to write a minimum of 1,000 words a day – and deal with ‘writerly’ business, such as checking my emails, until 10 a.m.
Apart from the daily chores, housework, shopping, washing clothes etc., I am a keen organic gardener. During this month I plant out hardy cyclamen, pansies, primulas and wallflowers to provide winter colour, and bulbs to flower in late winter and spring. I also pot up bulbs and bring potted plants into the greenhouse to shelter from frost.
Autumn is the ‘season of mellow fruitfulness’ when I enjoy apples and pears from my organic garden where I also grow soft fruit, herbs, vegetables and ornamental shrubs and flowers.
After lunch I usually work for an hour on the laptop before I read fiction, or historical non-fiction to research my novels.
At around four p.m. I resume ‘writerly’ activities until eight p.m. unless I am otherwise engaged as I will be this evening when guys are burned, bonfires are lit, and fireworks spangle the night sky to celebrate Guy Fawkes Day.

Queen Anne Stuart
Part One
The Cinderella Princess

My novel, Tangled Love, is set in the reign of Queen Anne Stuart, who reigned from 1702 to 1714, a ‘Cinderella’ princess of little importance during her childhood.
When she was born, neither her uncle, Charles II, nor his younger brother, her father, James, Duke of York, could have foretold that she would become the last of the Stuart monarchs. Charles’ seven bastards proved his virility so there was every reason to believe he and his queen of three years would have legitimate heirs to the throne. In the unlikely event of their not producing one, his brother and sister-in-law, James and Anne, had produced an older brother and sister for the latest addition to their nursery, baby Anne.
In those days infant mortality was high. Anne and her older sister, Mary, survived the Great Plague which broke out in the year of Anne’s birth. The little princesses grew up in their nursery but their brother James, another brother and two little sisters died. One can imagine the effects of these deaths on ‘Cinderella’, a small girl with poor health whose weak eyes watered constantly.
With the king’s consent to have her eyes treated in France, her parents sent four-year-old Anne to her grandmother, widow of the executed Charles I.
As I write, I have before me a portrait of Anne as a small girl painted at the French court by an unknown artist. She is plump and adorable, dressed in brocade, playing with a King Charles spaniel. Her eyes are wary set in an oval face with a mouth shaped in a perfect cupid’s bow.
In 1699, after Anne’s grandmother died, the little girl passed into the care of her father’s sister, Henrietta Maria, Duchess of Orleans, whom Anne’s uncle, the King of England doted on. One year later, five-year-old ‘Cinderella’ had to cope with yet another death, this time that of her aunt, whose husband, younger brother of the French king, was suspected of poisoning her. Anne returned to England, her eyes only slightly improved. By then her mother was unpopular because she had converted to the Church of Rome. Anne’s father gave serious consideration to his salvation. He took Holy Communion from a papist priest. The decisions ‘Cinderella’s parents’ made would have a long-term effect on the young Princess Anne’s future.

Extract from Tangled Love
Prologue – 1693

Author’s Note The heroine is another Cinderella who goes from riches to rags.

“Nine-year-old Richelda Shaw sat on the floor in her nursery. She pulled a quilt over her head to block out the thunder pealing outside the ancient manor house, while an even fiercer storm raged deep within. Eyes closed, she remained as motionless as a marble statue.
Elsie, her mother’s personal maid, removed the quilt from her head. “Stand up child, there’s nothing to be frightened of. Come, your father’s waiting for you.
Richelda trembled. Until now Father’s short visits from France meant gifts and laughter. This one made Mother cry while servants spoke in hushed tones.
Followed by Elsie, Richelda hurried down the broad oak stairs. For a moment, she paused to admire Lilies of the Valley in a Delft bowl. Only yesterday, she had picked the flowers to welcome Father home, and then arranged them with tender care. Now, the bowl stood on a chest, beneath a pair of crossed broadswords hanging on the wall.
Elsie opened the massive door of the great hall where Father waited at one side of an enormous hearth. Richelda hesitated. Her eyes searched for her mother before she walked across the floor, spread her skirts wide, and knelt before him.
Father placed his right hand on her bent head. “Bless you, daughter; may God keep you safe.”
He smiled. “Stand up, child. Upon my word, sweetheart, your hair reminds me of a golden rose. How glad I am to see roses bloom in these troubled times.”
Richelda stood but dared not speak, for she did not know him well.
Putting an arm round her waist, he drew her to him. “Come, do not be nervous of your father, child. Tell me if you know King James II holds court in France while his daughter, Mary, and William, his son-in-law, rule, after seizing his throne?”
“Yes, Mother told me we are well rid of King James and his Papist wife,” she piped up, proud of her knowledge.
With a sigh, Father lifted her onto his knee. “Richelda, I must follow His Majesty, for I swore an oath of allegiance to him. Tell me, child, while King James lives, how can I with honour swear allegiance to his disloyal daughter and her husband?” Unable to think of a reply, she lowered her head, breathing in his spicy perfume.
Father held her closer. “Your mother pleads with me to declare myself for William and Mary. She begs me not to return to France, but I am obliged to serve King James. Do you understand?”
As she nodded, her cheek brushed against his velvet coat. “Yes, I understand, my tutor told me why many gentlemen will not serve the new king and queen.”
“If you remain in England, you will be safe. Bellemont is part of your mother’s dowry, so I doubt it will be confiscated.”
If she remained in England! Startled, she stared at him.

Five Star Review of Tangled Love

Rosemary Morris has crafted a superb novel set in the Queen Anne time-period in London. The historical details are accurately researched and artfully presented, making excellent use of vivid sensory details. Further, the characters spring to life, each fully moulded into his or her unique personality.
Bound by a childhood promise made to her father, protagonist Richelda faces tough challenges nearly a decade later. Poor and now orphaned, she dreams of a better future with all the trappings of the good life. But, to keep her promise, she must regain the ancestral home, Field House, which is said to contain hidden treasure. Her vow to her father is sealed by a ruby ring that she wears on a chain around her neck--a constant reminder of her promise.
Dudley, her childhood sweetheart, plus the charismatic Viscount Lord Chesney, her suitor in an arranged marriage by her wealthy aunt, set the stage for Rachelda's doubts and uncertainties. Dudley won her heart years earlier, but is he all that he appears to be? Chesney, on the other hand, is the owner of Field House and could offer her the life she dreams about in her ancestral home. Further, Aunt Isobel has promised to make Richelda her heiress on the condition she does indeed marry Lord Chesney. Yet are her push-pull feelings for Chesney strong enough to merit a marriage vow? Throughout the story, Richelda never disappoints. She is spirited, fiercely independent, sweet, and loving--truly a three-dimensional character.
Author Rosemary Morris takes her readers gently by the hand and leads them down a highly entertaining pathway filled with love, intrigue, deceit, and mystery. Highly recommended. A winner!

Sil.

Novels by Rosemary Morris

Early 18th Century novels: Tangled Love, Far Beyond Rubies, The Captain and The Countess
Regency Novels False Pretences, Sunday’s Child, Monday’s Child, Tuesday’s Child, Wednesday’s Child and Thursday’s Child.
Mediaeval Novel Yvonne Lady of Cassio. The Lovages of Cassio Book One
www.rosemarymorris.co.uk
http://bookswelove.net/authors/morris-rosemary

About Rosemary Morris

I’ve always had an extraordinary interest in written words. My mother described me seated in my pushchair, when I was two-and-a-half years old, holding up a book and reciting the story,
“Your little girl is reading!” an astonished lady exclaimed.
Mum laughed. “No, she isn’t. Rosemary’s memorised all her favourite stories.”
I can’t recall them, but I remember the colourful illustrations and the joy of sitting on my darling grandfather’s lap while he read to me.
By the age of four, I could read and make up stories. Everything around me was fodder for my imagination. At seven, in the days when children walked unaccompanied to school, I stopped by a lime tree at the end of the road. I pretended a wicked witch had cast a spell on a handsome prince. To honour him on my way to and from school I walked around him three times and curtsied.
“I am sorry for the mother of that abnormal child,” one of the neighbours said to Mum
After I came home that day, I received a lecture. On the next day I invented magic words to release the handsome prince.
When I studied history at school I was, to use a cliché, in seventh heaven.
I imagined Alfred burning the cakes, the Tudor Princess Elizabeth by Traitor’s Gate refusing to enter the Tower of London, gallant c-cavaliers with their plumed hats and lovelocks - much more appealing than the Roundheads. These and many others were food for my fertile imagination; so was historical fiction, which I still enjoy as well as biographies of those who lived in times past and historical non-fiction.
Eventually, I wrote romantic historical fact fiction and, after many years, achieved my ambition to be published.
Now, I spend almost as much time researching the past for my novels as writing.

Women’s Dress in Queen Anne Stuart’s reign -1702-1714
A brief description.

The Fontage, introduced by Mademoiselle Fontage at the French court of Louis X1V, was made of rows of stiffened muslin or lace supported by wire, and varied in height during the period.
Underlinen. A glimpse of this is revealed in an advertisement. Lost etc., a deal box containing 4 fine linen Holland shifts, 7 fine cambric handkerchiefs, 2 night rails (nightdresses) etc.,
False Hips and Hoops. To spread wide their under petticoats and petticoats (gowns) before c.1709 ladies wore false hips, subsequently these were replaced with compressible whalebone hoops.
Bodices were laced but left open in the front over very tight stays made from different materials often lined with flannel. Sir Richard Hoare of the Gold Bottle in Fleet Street offered the finder 12 guineas for a pair of stays with 8 diamond buckles and tabs. The bodices were worn low over the bosom which was often concealed by a tucker (a modesty piece).
Sleeves were loose. They reached the elbow and were worn over lace or muslin under sleeves that almost reached the wrist.
Gowns were divided down the front to reveal the petticoat. Both garments were sometimes made of very rich materials. E.g. stolen out of the house of Mr Peter Paggen in Love Lane near Eastcheap … one gown flowered with green and gold … one purple and gold gown …one scarlet and gold petticoat edged with silver…one yellow chintz gown and petticoat etc. These are part of a long list of stolen gowns and petticoats.
Stockings were made of thread or silk, the latter sometimes in bright colours. The little temptress (shop assistant) at the New Exchange asked…” Does not your lady want fine green silk stockings?”
Shoes were beautifully made of embroidered satin or silk or fine Morocco leather with high heels.
Hats did not fit over fashionable ladies’ fontages, however poorer women wore ‘flat caps’ and country women wore tall, broad brimmed hats (which are still part of the Welsh national costume).
Hoods when fontages were sufficiently lowered could be worn and were referred to by contemporary writers especially in the Spectator.
My favourite description is: I took notice of a little cluster of women sitting together in the prettiest coloured hoods that I ever saw. One of them was blue, another yellow and another philomot (Feuille-mort); the fourth was of a pink colour and the fifth was of a pale green. I looked with as much pleasure upon this little parti-coloured assembly and did not know at first whether it might be an embassy of Indian queens.
Note. Women also wore cloaks, furs and owned muffs.

Extract from The Captain and The Countess

At her morning levee, Kate, Countess of Sinclair glanced at her most persistent admirers, Mister Tyrell, both dashing and bold, and Mister Stafford, conservative and somewhat hesitant. As usual, they had arrived before her other admirers. Now they sat at their ease on gilt-legged chairs near her canopied bed.
Kate decided she could delay no longer. She rose to make her toilette behind a tall screen, still conscious of the rose-pink night robe she had ruffled around her shoulders with great care before Tyrell and Stafford arrived.
With her maid, Jessie’s help, after Kate removed her nightgown and night rail, she donned her under-linen, stays, and a bodice, cut lower than the current fashion and loosely laced in front to reveal gold buckles inset with pearls, which clasped her satin-covered stays so tightly that she could scarce draw breath. “Gentlemen, which petticoat shall I wear?” she asked, giggling deliberately and playing the part of an indecisive female. “Jessie, please show both of them to Mister Tyrell and Mister Stafford.”
Over the edge of the lacquered screen, Jessie dangled the full petticoats to be worn displayed beneath skirts parted down the front.
Kate stood on tiptoe. She peeped over the top of the screen, decorated with a painted blue and white pot containing tulips, passion flowers, lilies, roses, and sprigs of rosemary.
“Gentlemen, the cream petticoat is made of Luckhourie, a newly fashionable silk from India. The lavender one is of the finest quality Pudsay.”
“Stap me, they are uncommon plain,” said Mister Tyrell.
Kate knew he admired feminine apparel trimmed with folderols such as gold or silver lace, ruched ribbons, bows, and rosettes. She suppressed a chuckle in order not to offend him.
“My mother approves of modest attire,” Mister Stafford said.
Before she withdrew her head from their sight, Kate choked back her laughter. Stafford’s contemptuous glance at his rival did not escape her notice.
She doubted Mrs Stafford found much about her to praise, but she cared naught for Stafford’s mother, a creature with the languishing airs of a pseudo-invalid, who bound her son cruelly to her side. Indeed, the gentleman’s determined courtship surprised Kate. It proved he was not, as the saying went, completely under his mother’s thumb.
“Which one shall I wear?” Kate repeated. Although she had already decided to wear cream, she followed the custom of prolonging what amounted to “The Art of the Levee”.
First, Jessie retrieved the petticoats. Next, she dressed Kate in the Luckhourie one, a gown, and lace-edged apron.
Stafford spoke first. “I have no doubt her ladyship will favour the cream petticoat, which will enhance the natural delicacy of her appearance.”
Delicate? Heaven forbid. She did not want, her new acquaintance, Captain Howard, to consider her delicate. “’Pon my word, Stafford, I have no wish to give the impression of one who suffers from lung rot.”
Mister Tyrell laughed. “I am sure you don’t, Lady Sinclair. For my part, I beg you to wear the lavender. It will enhance the colour of your blue eyes.”
“I shall surprise both of you.” Kate ignored their petty war of words and wondered why she yearned to see Captain Howard.

Novels by Rosemary Morris

Early 18th Century novels:
Tangled Love, Far Beyond Rubies, The Captain and The Countess
Regency Novels
False Pretences, Sunday’s Child, Monday’s Child, Tuesday’s Child, Wednesday’s Child and Thursday’s Child.
Friday’s Child to be published in June 2019
Mediaeval Novel
Yvonne Lady of Cassio. The Lovages of Cassio Book One
www.rosemarymorris.co.uk
http://bookswelove,net/authors/morris-rosemary