Chasing the Tale

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Tea with Jude

Her Grace the Duchess of Haverford appears in my dream. Or do I appear in hers? Do fictional characters dream? However it is, I am on the terrace on the sheltered side of Haverford Castle, and Eleanor is pouring me a cup of tea.

Calling my duchess by her first name is a privilege afforded to me, commoner though I am, because I am her author.

“I know how you love Marcel’s cakes,” she tells me, putting two of them on a plate. “I had a box of them delivered to help us celebrate your latest book. Short stories, is it not?”

“Yes,” I agree. I take a sip of my tea, which is just the way I like it. “Chasing the Tale: Volume II. Ten short stories and novelettes, just long enough to enjoy before bed or with a cup of coffee or tea at any time of the day. I brought you a copy.” It appears in my hand as I speak, which is confirmation that I am dreaming, for it is a print copy, and print copies only came available to order, when the book went live, which should have happened a few minutes ago.

“Next month,” I say, “I have a story in Belles & Beaux, a Bluestocking Belles collection. Your husband appears in it.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Haverford?”

Oh. So this is prior to 1815, which is when Haverford died. “Your next husband, I tell her.” It’s a bit of a spoiler alert, but I won’t tell her anything more.

“You are not planning to inflict another husband on me, I hope,” she scolded. “Was the first one not enough?”

Perhaps a little bit more. “The second one is more in the way of a reward,” I assure her. To prevent her from asking any more, I take a bite from one of Marcel Fournier’s lovely little cakes. One of the benefits of meeting my characters inside my fictional world is that I’m not allergic to anything. It is delicious.

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Tea with Lord and Lady Hicklestone

Gossip had followed the new Lord Hicklestone and his bride from their country estate to London. Well. Of course it had. The poor man’s predecessor had been a scoundrel and a rake of the worst sort, seducing maidens high and low then refusing to take any responsibility for the consequences. Within a month of the brother inheriting the earldom, he married a neighbour with a young daughter, the gossips in the local villages and in London had a field day, and the young couple arrived in Town to copious servings of cold shoulder and the cut direct.

But the Duchess of Haverford did not allow anyone to tell her what she should think. She invited them to tea, and her ladyship’s aunt and the child too. She asked no questions, but she observed. Lady Hicklestone and Miss Cleghorn acknowledged that Society was unwelcoming, but declared that they were not concerned about the opinions of those who did not form their own. A noble view, but impractical, and Lord Hicklestone’s frown hinted that he, too, saw the difficulties.

This little family deserved her support. “I am pleased to know you all, and I shall be opening doors for you,” she informed Lady Hicklestone as they stood to make their farewells. “You will begin to receive invitations. I trust you will accept them, for little Miss Estelle’s sake and for those of any future children, and for the good Lord Hicklestone might do in the House of Lords.”

Lady Hicklestone’s eyes widened and she nodded. “I had not thought of the impact on Edward and Estelle,” she admitted. “I shall follow your advice, Your Grace.”

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To find out about Edward’s courtship of Anne, read “Anne Under Siege” in Chasing the Tale. This collection of eleven short stories is currently USD 99c, but will go up to $2.99 shortly.

 

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Tea with Lord and Lady Gamford

“How kind of you to invite us, Your Grace,” said the Marchioness of Gamford, with a graceful curtsey. She was a tall woman, but the husband bowing beside her was even taller. So this was a godson she had not seen since his uncle sent him overseas more than seven years ago, in part to separate him from his bride.

They’d been wed as children. Eleanor would have prevented such an early marriage, had she any sway with the father of either bride or groom. But those two best friends had made up their mind, and would listen to no one. Not their wives. Not their brothers. And certainly not the children themselves.

The friends’ deaths a few days later, in an ill-fated curricle race, had allowed the families to keep the newly weds apart. Somehow, they had survived their separation with their marriage intact, and in love, unless Eleanor was very much mistaken. Which she was not. Not even a fool could miss how Lord Gamford hovered over his wife, seating her as if she were made of delicate porcelain, and Lady Gamford, in turn, looked up at him as if he had hung the moon and stars, all for her delight.

“It is very kind of you to come, my dears,” Eleanor replied. “I do hope you will call me Aunt Eleanor, for I am godmother to Hal, here, and hope to be friend to you both.”

“Please call me Willa,” the marchioness requested, lowering her lashes, shyly.

She served them each with their preference of tea, and before long, they were chattering like old friends, and Eleanor was delighted to have her curiosity about their courtship satisfied without any vulgar questions.

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To find out about Hal’s meeting with the grown up Willa, read “The Marquis Returns” in Chasing the Tale. This collection of elevenshort stories is currently USD 99c, but will go up to $2.99 shortly.

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Spotlight on Short Stories

I occasionally hear people say that they don’t like short stories. I love them. I acknowledge that they’re a different art form to a novel, or even a novella. But when life is rushed and there’s little time for reading, there’s nothing like the mini-escape — the micro-holiday — of a shorter form of fiction.

Even novels are only part of a story–they have a beginning and an ending, which real life lacks (even conception and death being but punctuation points in the larger story of a community or a family). In a novel, though, the author has time to draw out the motivations and history of the main participants, maybe to follow several plot lines, to allow characters to develop and change, and to solve complex problems and untwist complicated knots. This gives novels their fascination, and the larger and more complicated the novel, the more some people seem to like it. A series with an overarching plot is a wonderful thing, allowing three, six, ten–even fifteen (in some cases) individual full stops within a larger story that spans the entire series.

Novella–that is, 20,000 to 40,000 words of story–are animals of quite a different description. When writing them, I’ve found it best to limit the cast of characters and reduce the plot lines to one major and maybe one minor. Novellas still allow for a problem to be solved, a character to grow, a relationship to be formed.

Short stories, though, are vignettes–paintings of a moment in time. The past is hinted at; character development is minimal; motivations are brushed on in broad strokes; only the main characters stand out and the rest are reduced to background. The shorter the story, the harder the craft of making a satisfying read. And I do love a challenge.

A well crafted short story may leave you wishing it was longer, but is also satisfying. The end is leaves you free to catch that bus, pick those children up, pack up that lunch and return to your desk, turn off the light and go to sleep. Short stories are fun.

So what do you say? Short, novella, short novel or long novel, series or stand-alone? Or (my answer) “Yes, please,” to all.

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This Christmas, I have a novella and a short story in the Belles’ 2020 Christmas collection Holiday Escapes, published in November and comprising four novellas and two short stories. I’ve also just published eleven short stories in Chasing the Tale. I hope you enjoy them.