Christmas box set

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Tea with a purpose

 

Her Grace looked around her living room with a smile of satisfaction. Her protégées, many of them her goddaughters, made a formidable fighting force, and a fight was exactly what they had on their hands.

In one corner, the Countess of Sutton (formerly Sophia Belvoir until she married the heir to the Duke of Winshire) was writing a series of letters to other Society ladies, with the help of her sister Lady Felicity and her sisters-in law, Ladies Ruth and Rosemary Winderfield. On the settee by the fire, the Countess of Chirbury and Selby, wife to the duchess’s nephew, was dictating a letter to the editor of the Teatime Tattler, penned by her cousin-in-law, Mrs Julius Redepenning. All around the room, those the duchess had summoned had sharpened their nibs and flown into the battle of words over the forthcoming box set by the Bluestocking Belles.

Every woman in this room, and the fictional worlds they inhabited, owed their lives, their loves, their very existence, to one or more of those mysterious women. And the attempts to close down their next set of Christmas stories could not be tolerated.

It began with a letter from one styling herself ‘A Concerned Society Matron’. Salacious scenes of seduction? The woman must have a mind like a pig pen.

Lady Hultinford of St Brendan’s Priory responded with a strong attack on the forces of censorship, and there it should have rested.

But no. The next shot was fired by a cleric on a campaign to signing himself The Right Honorable the Reverend Claudius Blowworthey, although in Her Grace’s opinion, he was not Honorable, not to be Revered, and certainly not Right.

Mrs Maud Goodbody, who described herself as a Christian and modestly well-educated, brought a cheer to the duchess’s lips with her sound rebuttal of Blowworthy’s opinion. Her Grace had immediately sent a donation to the Chapel of the Faithful, which Mrs Goodbody attended.

But just today, the ‘Concerned Society Matron’ burst into print again. While Mr Clemens was quite correct in allowing both sides to have their say, the duchess did think the latest letter was a waste of paper and ink.

Enough was enough. The Duchess of Haverford and her troops were going to war.

To find out what all the fuss is about, see the Bluestocking Belles’ latest joint project, Follow Your Star Home.

To join in the debate, comment on any of the Teatime Tattler posts in the links above, and watch for more to come.

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Tea with Mr Clemens

 

Sam Clemens, editor and proprietor of The Teatime Tattler, juggled the delicate porcelain cup and the matching plate, wondering how he was meant to drink the one and eat the dainty iced confection that adorned the other.

The aristocracy learned such tricks in the nursery, but Sam had never claimed nor wished to be one of them. His own more humble folk were good enough for him, though one could not deny the ton made good copy, providing an unending stream of scandal to delight his readers.

No doubt Her Grace thought to impress him into agreeing to suppress one story or another — perhaps one about her outrageous son? The Merry Marquis entertained the whole of London with his antics, and Sam had no intention of agreeing to ignore a useful piece of copy just because the Duchess of Haverford favoured him with an invitation to tea. He responded to a polite enquiry about the health of his brother’s family. The younger Clemens sibling had emigrated to the Americas, and was raising his hopeful family there. Sam often thought of visiting them, especially his namesake, young Samuel, but his commitment to his paper did not leave time for a long sea journey.

He couldn’t fault the lady’s graciousness. She noticed his dilemma with the cup and plate, gave a twitch of her eyebrows and a nod to a hovering footman, and moments later a small table materialised at Sam’s elbow. The duchess, meanwhile, continued to show a great interest in the exploits of young Sam, as reported in his mother’s letters. Sam took a grateful sip of his tea.

At last, Her Grace came to the point. “Mr Clemens, I am sure you wonder why I invited you here today.”

He appreciated her forthrightness. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I did.”

“I have been approached by a number of people who wish me to use my influence to stop you publishing articles and letters about the forthcoming book from the Bluestocking Belles,” she explained.

“For, Your Grace,” he asked, “or against?”

“Both,” the duchess replied. “Some support the detractors, some the authors. A pretty conundrum, is it not?”

Sam took a deep breath, ready to make his position clear. Surrounded by the evidence of heritage and wealth, faced by the great lady herself, one step down from royal and every inch a noble, he found it harder than he expected to voice the rejection he planned. Before he could speak, she continued.

“Let me put your mind to rest, Mr. Clemens. I have no intention of interfering either way, except perhaps to pen a letter myself. Publish as you will. I will watch with interest to see whether the salacious rumours prove to be true.”

Watch The Teatime Tattler over the next eight weeks as the debate unfolds. The first shots have already been fired, and we expect more, starting 3 September.