Author: judeknight

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The floating world on Wanton Weekends

Last week’s post was about a woman of business at the top of her profession. For today, I’m moving to the other side of the Eurasian land-mass, two thousand years forward in time, and to the bottom of the pecking order.

In 17th Century Japan, new laws restricted brothels to specific quarters, where they could be regulated and taxed. Men regarded a visit to ‘the floating world’ as an opportunity to escape their highly regulated lives. Their wives were expected to dress modestly and serve their husbands. For passion and love, the warriors, merchants, and lords of Japan looked to the floating world.

Women were sold into the brothels, often from poor farmer or fisher families, aged 7 or 8, and grew up doing chores and tending the courtesans. Compared to where they came from, the brothels were better – sufficient food, light work, a clean place to sleep.

Those that showed ability began their courtesan training at 11 or 12. A courtesan needed to be well read, talented at music and drawing, able to entertain in and out of bed. Every lesson they learned; every item of clothing they wore, every hairclip and pot of cosmetics was charged to the debt they owed the brothel.

Once they ‘graduated’ (by having their virginity auctioned to the highest bidder), they worked long hours, even when they were sick or menstruating. They had quotas to fill, with most of the purchase fee for their time going to the brothel and little finding its way into their hands.

Their only hope of a different life was to attract the attention of someone willing and able to buy their debt.

Some, of course, reached the top of their profession, becoming high-ranking courtesans with some choice about who they entertained. Most remained low-ranking prostitutes, available to lower-ranked and poorer men. In Yoshigawa in 1642, 102 courtesans were listed, compared to 881 prostitutes.

Many prostitutes died by the time they were 20, of venereal disease or lead poisoning from the cosmetics they wore, or during or after childbirth. In one graveyard, more than 21,000 prostitutes were buried ‘without connection’; that is, without anyone to pay their funeral costs.

For more, see: http://www.collectorsweekly.com/…/the-tragic-life-of-the-c…/

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Strange happenings in Hyde Park

Today on the blog, we have something special: a stand-alone short story with two characters from the Bluestocking Belles’ holiday box set, Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem. My character Mary meets Susana Ellis’s character Lady Pendleton. The post below tells the scene from the point of view of Mary, the heroine of Gingerbread Bride. Go to Susana’s Parlour to read the same story from the point of view of Lady Pendleton, mother of Julia Tate who is the heroine of The Ultimate Escape.

Pissarro_Hyde_Park

Continue reading →

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Villains on WIP Wednesday

Turning awayThis week, I’m focusing on villains. On the Teatime Tattler at the weekend, I’m doing a purpose-written duo of vignettes from the point-of-view of my Gingerbread Bride villain from the Bluestocking Belles’ box set, Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem. I’m also writing a cross-blog post with my Belle colleague Amy Rose Bennett (to be published later in the month) with the Gingerbread Bride villainess.

So I’m inviting you all to post an excerpt of around nine sentences showcasing your villain. Here’s Viscount Bosville, in an extract from Gingerbread Bride.

“Watch where you are going, Ma—Cousin Mary? Good God, it is. What are you doing in this godforsaken place?”

Lord Bosville. Of all the people Mary imagined meeting, he was the last she’d expect to find this far from London. “Cousin,” she replied, giving him a frosty nod. They had parted on unfriendly terms, after he had tried to kiss her and she had, as her father had taught her, punched him in a vulnerable part of his anatomy.

Bosville rearranged his face into a friendly smile that did not reach his eyes. “I do apologize for my language, Cousin Mary. I was startled. How nice to see you. Mother will be delighted to hear you are well. She has been so worried.”

What nonsense. Mary suppressed a snort. Worried to have lost Mary’s money, perhaps.

“If you will excuse me, Cousin, my maid and I are tired.”

But Viscount Bosville turned and accompanied them up the stairs, insisting he would see them safely to their rooms.

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Whore to Empress on Wanton Weekends

Benjamin-Constant-L'Imperatrice_Theodora_au_ColiséeTheodora, daughter of a Constantinople bear trainer, gives us one of the most successful mistress to wife stories from history. She was an actress when, at 16, she came to the attention of a government official, who took her with him when he was posted to Northern Africa.

On her return, aged 20, she drew the attention of another government official, Justinian, the son of the Emperor. Officials were not permitted to marry actresses, but Justinian appealed to his father, who changed the law, and in 525 she and Justinian married. In 527, Justinian became Emperor of Byzantium, and Theodosia was crowned Empress alongside him.

She is credited with expanding the rights of women in divorce and property ownership, giving mothers some guardianship rights over their children, and forbidding the killing of a wife who committed adultery. She also closed brothels and created convents for ex-prostitutes.

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Love hurts on WIP Wednesday

7c8133e975bcIn three more weeks, my novella Gingerbread Bride will be released as part of the Mistletoe, Marriage, & Mayhem box set from the Bluestocking Belles. So that makes it a work in progress still, does it not? Wending its way towards launch?

So for the next four Wednesdays, expect to see excerpts from this novella. And please show me yours! I’d love to read them. (Don’t forget to share the post so other people can find our pieces too.)

So this week, I’m sharing the moment when my heroine accepts that she is still in love with her girlhood hero. (You might wish to share your hero’s moment of revelation, or even admission of attraction if love isn’t on the table.) My heroine is thinking of all the reasons she is not content:

First, she missed the sea. She had lived her entire life within the sight, smell, and sound of it, until she first came to London, and as each day passed, she yearned for it more and more. The sea was home, and this land-locked valley, however pretty, was not.

Second, no matter how sharply she spoke to herself, she could not stop thinking about Rick Redepenning. She couldn’t possibly miss a man she had spent less than a day with in the past five years. She was merely worried about his injury, that was all, that he might not be taking care, might not be healing. No matter what excuses she made, she was well aware she was in danger of once again falling in love with Rick the Rogue—if, in fact, she’d ever fallen out of love.

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The harem on wanton weekends

georges-antoine-rochegrosse-french-1859-1938-e28093-harem-girls-in-an-aviaryIf you want a harem, you really need to talk to my friend, fellow Bluestocking Belle Caroline Warfield, aka Carol Roddy, who has just release her book Dangerous Weakness. In Dangerous Weakness, the heroine spends part of her time in the seraglio at Istanbul.

But here’s what I know. The harem in Ottoman society was the woman’s quarters. Muslim men were permitted four wives (if they could afford them). Wealthy men also kept concubines – whose main job was to join their master in his bed.

Those weren’t the only inhabitants of the harem, however. The female relatives of the head of the household lived there, too: his mother, who was usually the head of the harem, his wives, his unmarried sisters, his daughters, and many, many female servants whose job it was to look after the women of higher status.

Concubines were an important part of Ottoman social structure. Wealthy and powerful men married to make alliances between families, and wives were suspected of remaining loyal to their birth family. Slave concubines had no such lineage, and could—so the theory went—be relied on to reproduce without bothersome politics.

And even a concubine could become the most powerful female in the household if the son she bore became the next master. Perhaps, if the household was that of the Sultan, the most powerful female in the Empire.

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Humour on WIP Wednesday

I’ve been to a few Facebook parties in the last year, and whenever I’m asked what I like in a hero, I always include ‘a sense of humour’ somewhere in the list of important qualities. What about you? And if so, how does your hero (or your heroine) show their sense of humour in your book?

As always, please post up to ten lines, and don’t forget to share the post so other people can see your snippet. Mine is from A Baron for Becky. Aldridge has woken up naked in a strange garden, and has wrapped a ladies’ shawl around his hips. His cousin arrives in response to an urgent message.

“Rede?” Aldridge said, the boards creaking as he shifted his weight. “Rede, you came yourself?”

The cousin replied, “With a message like that? ‘Stuck at Perringworth’s cottage just outside Niddberrow. No clothes, no horse, no money. Send closed carriage to the summerhouse, urgently. Your loving cousin, Aldridge.’ Fetching kilt, cousin. Pink roses on a green field. Setting a new fashion?”

Aldridge laughed. “I’ll bet you a gold guinea, at least a dozen people would imitate me, were I to walk through Hyde Park dressed like this. I did think it rather better than the alternative, especially if I had to walk all the way to the Court.”Jacques-Dumont-le-Romain--007 Naked man sleeping

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Dennis O’Kelly on Wanton Weekends

eclipse by stubbs2Today’s famous courtesan is not the beautiful horse, though Eclipse certainly performed extremely well as a stallion: 80% of thoroughbreds today carry his genes. No, our featured stud is the horses owner, one Captain Dennis O’Kelly (the rank was possibly self-granted, and certainly the promotion to Lieutenant Colonel by the time Dennis wrote his memoirs was entirely fictional).

Given Dennis’s way with a story, little is certain. He was the lover of one of London’s more prosperous madams (who he met while they were both incarcerated in Fleet Street for bankruptcy). He and she both did win their way back to prosperity fairly quickly, and Dennis did buy Eclipse, who went on to sire three of the first five Derby winners as well as many other fine racehorses.

Dennis’s story of how he got his start makes him worthy of a place at our event. He was working as a sedan chair man in London, carrying the front poles . One day, a lady passenger looked him up and down and liked what she saw. Shortly after, Dennis was approached by a woman who offered him a full time job in the same profession, but for a single employer. Imagine his surprise when he found his employer was the same lady passenger.

His surprise turned to delight when his new mistress sent him to wait for further instructions at a townhouse, where she joined him in disguise (and in precisely the sense you immediately imagined. “As this publication is intended for the virtuous, as well as vicious eye,” he says, we must conceal from the one, what the experience of the other may easily supply. Some hours were spent in mutual happiness.”

Receiving a purse of 25 guineas for his exertions, Dennis found it well worth his while to return, and over several months, he says, he saved a considerable sum of money. Gaining a taste for the highlife, he immediately lost it all again, and was arrested and thrown into prison, where he met “That well known priestess of the Cyprian Deity, that love and mirth admiring votress, to pleasing sensuality, the well known Charlotte Hayes, was then an inhabitant of the same mansion.”

He comments that his attributes soon caught Charlotte’s eye “and the same services soon obtained… the same kind remunerations.” He claims to have devoted himself for the rest of his life to Charlotte, and – while ‘Charlotte had many friends, it is true… Her affections were still centred in our Hero, and on him were all the pecuniary favours which she received from others, bestowed with unbounded liberality.’

They spent the rest of their lives together, though Charlotte continued to have many friends (by way of business), and rumour at the time said the same of Dennis. He definitely qualifies to be here.

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A Dangerous Weakness extra: Volkov employs an investigator

This bit of fiction joins the hero of Embracing Prudence, a yet-to-be published work by Jude Knight, with the villain of Dangerous Weakness by Caroline Warfield, which is on pre-order now. Part two has been posted on Caroline’s blog today. Part one is here.

Volkov

Konstantin Volkov

The lean, sour faced man ducked to enter the waiting parlour at the premises of Wakefield and Wakefield, Enquiry Agents, as he had been shown. His tight lips showed his disapproval. He stood in a room that looked nothing like rooms in a proper office should. Not only did the fabrics and small decorations show every sign of a feminine touch, but books, newspapers, and, worst of all, children’s toys cluttered the space. He frowned.

Konstantin Volkov did not question his decisions often. This time he did. Contacts described David Wakefield as ruthless. One reference called the man as cold blooded as a snake. This domestic clutter did not reflect an image of the sort of man he needed. Before he could examine that thought, a woman appeared to show him into Wakefield’s office. No proper business employs a woman clerk, he grumbled internally, but he followed in her wake.

David - self portrait by Carl Joseph Begas

David Wakefield

David Wakefield stood to shake his hand. The enquiry agent was shorter than Volkov, and finely built. But the grip was strong enough, and the calm brown eyes under level brows hinted at a man with confidence in his own ability. Still, his smile at the woman and her wink made Volkov uneasy.

I can’t afford to hire some weakling. If there were an alternative, I would leave. He didn’t. Volkov had run out of contacts in the seething underbelly of London and England’s port cities. The usual lowlifes were good at tracking drabs and pickpockets. They had proven to be no help finding a respectable woman, and Lily Thornton was as respectable as they get, at least on the surface.

“How may I help you?” Wakefield’s voice startled Volkov from his thoughts. Stay alert Kostya. Don’t be a fool. He employed his most charming smile.

“A woman, Mr. Wakefield. I need help finding one.”

Wakefield smiled back. “If you require match making, perhaps my wife—“

“No, no. I need to find a particular woman, one I plan to make my wife.” Oh I have plans for darling Lily, but they are not quite so proper.

Wakefield sat back and pinned him with a hard look. “The woman you plan to marry has gone missing? Why is that?” Volkov caught a glance of the ruthless steel underneath the genial exterior and controlled the urge to shiver.

“A foolish misunderstanding. She misunderstood something she overheard and has gone off in a fright. I need only find her and reassure her.”

“What of the woman’s parents. Have they not located her?” Wakefield asked.

“Her father has been detained abroad. She is alone here with only the dubious protection of a maiden aunt.” One with easily bribed servants.

“This woman’s name?” The enquiry agent’s hand poised over a sheet of foolscap as if to take notes.

“Lily Thornton,” Volkov said and immediately regretted it. He saw the flicker of recognition in Wakefield’s eyes and the moment the agent suppressed it. If he knows who she is, he will unravel the truth quickly.

“When did you see her last?”

Volkov had no answer. If he told the man about the Mallet’s literary salon, he would connect Lily to Glenaire’s sister and thus, to the Marquess himself.

Wakefield went on smoothly, as if he didn’t notice Volkov’s silence. “What is more to the point, when did you notice her missing?”

“When I called at her aunt’s yesterday.” Another lie. Volkov couldn’t get past Glenaire’s guards. Marianne Thornton’s feckless maid brought the information.

Wakefield looked at Volkov so long that Volkov began to sweat. “I will call on the aunt and see what I can discover,” he said at last.

Too late. Volkov could hardly tell him not too. “Thank you. That is a good place to start.” He shot quick glance at the door.

“Come back in three days, and I’ll tell you what I’ve found.”

Volkov rose and thanked the blasted agent. As he descended the steps he faced harsh reality. I’m out of options. I need to leave London and drop out of sight. He stepped lively down the road. Perhaps Portsmouth. The thought raised his spirits. He would get her yet.

His confidence might have taken a knock had he looked back to where Wakefield and his wife watched from the window. Especially had he heard their conversation.

“What do you think, Prue?” David slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“I do not like that man, David. Something about him makes my skin crawl.”

“He is looking for Miss Thornton. Isn’t she the diplomat’s daughter you talked to at Mrs Mallet’s salon?”

“Yes. The one whose name has been linked with Glenaire’s.”

David had heard something of the sort. But a commoner and the Marble Marquess? It seemed unlikely. “Is it serious, Prue?”

Prue shrugged. “He is a ducal heir. He is expected to marry accordingly. But… there is an electricity between them, David.”

“I imagine he knows she is missing,” David mused. “I wonder if he knows the Russian is after her?”

For part 2 of this original story, written just for Caroline’s blog tour, go to her website.

What has become of Lily? Find out in Dangerous Weakness, on prerelease now and published on 1 October.

David and Prue’s story will appear early next year in Embracing Prudence.

Dangerous Weakness

DANGEROUS WEAKNESS2 (5)If women were as easily managed as the affairs of state—or the recalcitrant Ottoman Empire—Richard Hayden, Marquess of Glenaire, would be a happier man. As it was the creatures—one woman in particular—made hash of his well-laid plans and bedeviled him on all sides.

Lily Thornton came home from Saint Petersburg in pursuit of marriage. She wants a husband and a partner, not an overbearing, managing man. She may be “the least likely candidate to be Marchioness of Glenaire,” but her problems are her own to fix, even if those problems include both a Russian villain and an interfering Ottoman official.

Given enough facts, Richard can fix anything. But protecting that impossible woman is proving to be almost as hard as protecting his heart, especially when Lily’s problems bring her dangerously close to an Ottoman revolution. As Lily’s personal problems entangle with Richard’s professional ones, and she pits her will against his, he chases her across the pirate-infested Mediterranean. Will she discover surrender isn’t defeat? It might even have its own sweet reward.

Buy links (Kindle only)

US * UK * Canada * Euro * India * Aus

Meet Caroline Warfield

Carol Roddy - Author

Carol Roddy – Author

Caroline Warfield has at various times been an army brat, a librarian, a poet, a raiser of children, a nun, a bird watcher, an Internet and Web services manager, a conference speaker, an indexer, a tech writer, a genealogist, and, of course, a romantic. She has sailed through the English channel while it was still mined from WWII, stood on the walls of Troy, searched Scotland for the location of an entirely fictional castle (and found it), climbed the steps to the Parthenon, floated down the Thames from the Tower to Greenwich, shopped in the Ginza, lost herself in the Louvre, gone on a night safari at the Singapore zoo, walked in the Black Forest, and explored the underground cistern of Istanbul. By far the biggest adventure has been life-long marriage to a prince among men.

She sits in front of a keyboard at a desk surrounded by windows, looks out at the trees and imagines. Her greatest joy is when one of those imaginings comes to life on the page and in the imagination of her readers.

Visit Caroline’s Website and Blog  *  Meet Caroline on Facebook  * Follow Caroline on Twitter

Email Caroline directly  * Subscribe to Caroline’s newsletter   * Dangerous Weakness Pinterest Board

Play in the  Bluestocking Bookshop with Caroline’s characters * LibraryThing  * Amazon Author

Good Reads    *    Bluestocking Belles

 

Caroline’s Other Books

Dangerous Works  A little Greek is one thing; the art of love is another. Only Andrew ever tried to teach Georgiana both.

Dangerous Secrets Jamie and Nora will dare anything for the tiny girl in their care, even enter a sham marriage to protect her. Will love—and the truth—bind them both together.

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First lines on WIP Wednesday

gothiccastleBecause I particularly like the first lines of the new story I started last week (tentatively called The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle — and yes, Carol Cork, this is your story), I’m inviting you all to share with me and the blog readers the first lines of any chapter of your work in progress. I usually say 7 to 10 lines, but I’ve overdone it today.

As soon as he said the last words of the blessing, the fat priest stepped towards them, a broad smile on his face. “May I be the first to congratulate your graces?”

But the man to whom Linnie had just been joined in the bonds of Holy Matrimony ignored the outstretched hands and whirled around to advance on Lady Wyvern, who stood behind them.

“Very well. I have done what you demanded. Where is she?”

“Penworth, your manners.” Lady Wyvern scolded, but the Duke of Penworth ignored her tone and spoke over the rest of her complaint.

“You promised to return her if I married Graceton’s sister. Well. We are wed. I want her back, Lady Wyvern, and I want her now.”

Lin was trying to make sense of it all. The duke had been forced to this marriage as well? By a threat? But to whom? Surely not… not his mistress?”

She stole a look at her half-brother, Baron Granville, who was openly amused. “Send the boy back to his rooms, Margaret, and my sister with him. His treasure is there, is it not? Oh do not fret, vicar. You will get your fee and your portion of the wedding breakfast.”