Lady Caroline Lamb’s whole disgraceful truth… Part Seventeen ~ Love, breeches and a woman’s wiles

CarolinelambHere  is another insight into the true stories which inspire my books, and Caroline Lamb’s letters are such wonderful gems of reality that so many readers would not think true. But before I share today’s treasures here is the recap of the background behind this series of posts. If you have read this before, as always, just skip to the text highlighted in bold.

I was drawn to Lady Caroline Lamb, who lived in the Regency era, because Harriette Wilson the courtesan who wrote her memoirs in 1825, mentions the Ponsonby and the Lamb family frequently. Also the story of Caroline’s affair with Lord Byron captured my imagination. Caroline was also a writer, she wrote poems, and novels in her later life. I have read Glenarvon.

Her life story and her letters sucked me further into the reality of the Regency world which is rarely found in modern-day books. Jane Austen wrote fictional, ‘country’ life as she called it, and I want to write fictional ‘Regency’ life rather than simply romance. But what I love when I discover gems in my research like Caroline’s story is sharing the real story behind my fiction here too.

Lady Caroline Lamb was born Caroline Ponsonby, on the 13th November 1785. She was the daughter of Frederick Ponsonby, Viscount Duncannon, and Henrietta (known as Harriet), the sister of the infamous Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire.

Caroline became an official lady when her grandfather died, and her father became Earl of Bessborough earning her the honorific title ‘Lady’ and she grew up in a world of luxury, even Marie Antoinette was a family friend. Caroline was always renowned as being lively, and now it is suspected she had a condition called bipolar. As a child she earned herself a title as a ‘brat’, by such things as telling her aunt Georgiana that Edward Gibbon’s (the author of The Decline and fall of the Roman Empire) face was ‘so ugly it had frightened her puppy’.

And when she grew up Byron once described Caroline as “the cleverest most agreeable, absurd, amiable, perplexing, dangerous fascinating little being that lives now or ought to have lived 2000 years ago.”

In my previous post we left Caroline in the spring of 1806. She and William had lived out the honeymoon period of their marriage, lost a child, and fought at times, so now when William’s brother, George, began courting Caroline St Jules, the illegitimate daughter of Bess and the Duke of Devonshire, who Caroline had grown up with, Caroline watched them with what in her letters appears some jealousy, ‘the difference between a husband and a lover…’

Yet their misfortunes did not prevent their happiness, or Caroline’s desire to please her husband. She began copying William’s favourite portrait, of himself, which hung in his parents’ home in London, Melboure House. She had it taken down from ‘an amazing height‘ on a regular basis in order to study it so she might recreate it, but then tragedy happened as it was being taken down the tip of the ladder punctured the canvas, Lord Melbourne was not happy with her, he recorded in his letters, ‘The Devil of a hole.’

But Caroline continued to try to please her husband, she wrote to her cousin, ‘as William does not like my hand I have got a writing master,’  and in the September she told G, ‘I try & keep as free from all irritation & disputing as I possibly can & though I feel enough how far I am from what I ought to be I think I may venture to say  I am very much improved. Wm & I have had no quarrels of any consequence since I fancied myself with child & I believe a month before which you know is very near four months together & I do not even believe now I know how to quarrel with him he is so indulgent and kind.’

When William was invited to read an address at the opening session of parliament, Caro was supportive of him. She knew that he had wished to speak in the House of Commons, which he attended regularly, and  yet he feared stumbling describing himself,  ‘too vain to expose myself to the disgrace of speaking in a hesitating manner.’ So the opportunity of a speech he could rehearse was ideal, and he had shared his fears with Caro, so she would sit and listen to him practice, as if it was a play they rehearsed.

In the November she was pregnant again, and yet despite her claims to stay out of disputes she was recorded as reading out a letter at a dinner with her parents and her uncle the Duke of Devonshire, his consort, Lady Elizabeth, and among her cousins, it detailed a story about Madame Mainenon, setting herself up as the confident of Louis XIV, it was a very deliberate jab at Bess, and I presume her cousins were in on it, as Harryo wrote to Caro the next day saying, ‘I fancied Lady E was embarrassed.’ However Lady E had now stolen Harryo’s rightful role as hostess in the Duke’s home, and she was not to be persuaded out of it.

Nor did Caro’s pregnancy prevent her from enjoying life, in fact her new happiness encouraged her to throw herself into life with greater gusto; while William and she enjoyed a period alone at his family home in Brocket Hall she attended a Ball with her married sister-in-law Emily, Lady Cowper, ‘Emily and I went to the Hartford Ball last Night both dressed and looking very pretty she the prettiest both dancing in great spirits all the evening – I the longest. We came home at near four quite tired neither of us having danced I believe above once since we were married.’

William addressed Parliament on the 19th December 1806, and it was an event which Caro would frequently look back upon throughout her life and use as an example of how much she loved her husband. Because she was so anxious on his behalf, Caroline told his mother and father she was going to Holland House, to visit her literary friend Lady Holland. But instead, she dressed in her little brother’s, breeches, shirt and coat and entered the gallery in the company of a family friend, disguised as a man (because woman were not allowed to attend), to be able to hear William speak, and from there she applauded him, and then ran out and across Whitehall to return in time to change and greet him as herself.

Yet Lady Melbourne discovered her intrigue, which not even William had known she’d intended, yet she did not chastise Caro because William did not, and Caro welcomed her conquering hero home, bursting with pride.

~

Dangerous Love of a rogue from ZoeIf you would like to read my historical romance story that was inspired by Caroline’s life… it is available for pre-order The Dangerous Love of a Rogue, will be out in ebook in January and can be pre-ordered for Paperback release in March and don’t forget you can see images of my inspirations on my Jane Lark Facebook page, just scroll down and click ‘Like‘ in the link on the sidebar to follow.

But if you can’t wait for Regency stories, then grab one of my books many of them are currently on offer in the UK from 69p and in the USA from $1.99 and there are couple of little extras for free… 

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For

  • the story of the real courtesan who inspired   The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.

Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click  ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook  page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark

Jane’s books can be ordered from amazon by clicking on the covers in the sidebar,  and are available from most booksellers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reckless in Innocence ~ A #Free Historical Romance story ~ Part Sixteen

Reckless in Innocence

for my Historical Romance readers

© Jane Lark

Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark, this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Reckless in Innocence

Reckless in Innocence

~

Read the earlier parts 

one , two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,nineten, eleven,twelvethirteen, fourteen, fifteen

~

Elizabeth

Leaning against the balustrade of the broad terrace which ran the length of Larchfield, Elizabeth looked out across the gardens. The night was cool and the air fresh. She had not realised how much she’d missed the clean air and sweet scents of the country. It was pleasant here, quiet as London could never be, and she remembered home; the cold manor with cobwebs in every corner. It was even cold in summer, and in winter she had to wrap up in several layers of clothing to keep warm. The single fire in the kitchen range was the only one that had been lit for years and it did not keep the entire manor warm. Often, as a child, she’d spent her evenings in the kitchen by its side, watching the scullery maid wash dishes.

But remembering her home with its worn drapes and  faded wallpaper, which was peeling from the walls from the damp, made her feel so out of place here. The avenues of perfectly clipped hedging and trellis, stretching out before her, punctuated with fountains and statues of god like men and women, only highlighted how distant her life and her status was from Marcus’s.

And everyone else here was respectable. The Campbells’ friends, Lord and Lady Fitzherbert were travelling back to their estate; they’d met Marcus’s brother and his wife soon after the two couples had married. Then there were the Everetts and the Castletons, both gentlemen Marcus and his brother had known since school.  They were all as quiet as the country – brought up in wealth and comfort by parents who neither gambled nor drank to excess.

Her eyes reached to the furthest fountain and then the lake and the meadow beyond and beyond that there was a wooded hill.

“Do you like it?” Marcus’s voice rose behind her and made her jump.

Elizabeth pulled her woollen shawl closer about her shoulders. She had come out here to be alone, because the conversation within the drawing was beyond her. It was the conversation of wives, and the men had been left at the table to drink their port. “The sunset is indeed beautiful tonight.”

“I did not mean that, Elizabeth, and you know it. I meant my home. Do you like my home?”

“Our manor house is small. My father has fifteen acres left. You know our circumstances; why would I not appreciate the wealth you have, Your Grace? But I do not envy you it, if that is what you are asking?”

“It was not a trick question, Elizabeth. I did not ask it to taunt you. If you even consider envy I shall return you to London.” He took a step closer to her. “Will you call me Marcus while we are here? When two people are as close as we have been it seems ridiculous that you, Your Grace, me.”

She looked at him. The sky above him was shaded from dark to light blue and behind him the red rim of the sun slipped beneath a distant hill, and about it the sky was red and gold, it cast his face in shadow, she couldn’t see his expression. “Why did you bring me here?”

He was silent for a moment as he looked at her face, which he must be able to see in the last violet-blue of the sunset.

“To keep you away from Lord Percy and the other scoundrels you entertain.”

She did not wholly believe him, there seemed something more to it, something spoken in the clipped pitch of his voice.

Elizabeth turned back to the view and watched the blackness to creep towards them; already she could not see to the edge of the wood. But then a white flash danced across the meadow beyond the pleasure garden and her eyes adjusted to the last light of dusk. “Look, Marcus, look. It’s a red deer.” She pointed to the distance.

Marcus moved closer behind her and leaned to her shoulder, to look along her arm and see where she pointed, while his hand rested at her waist. “I see it. Look, there are more. I can see another two.” He straightened but he did not move away and his other hand settled on her waist too.

“And a stag. Do you see the stag? His antlers are magnificent.”

“I see him. Those antlers will be upon my wall soon if we go hunting tomorrow.”

Elizabeth turned and flung the flat of her fist at his chest. “You dare harm that poor creature, Marcus Campbell, and I shall never forgive you.”

Marcus caught her hand. Smiling broadly in the wicked way which had melted her heart from the first moment she’d seen him, he took her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist and when her hand fell open, his lips touched her palm.

Elizabeth shook her hand free and stepped away from him, her thoughts confused.

Was he playing with her? What was this? He had not touched her in weeks.

No, oh no. Had he brought her here for this, for a repetition, to make her his again, in a physical sense? But he’d said  he did not want her as a mistress.

Her heart slammed against her ribs at the very idea, warring between anger, fear – and hope. But even if he decided he did want her it would not be as a wife, and she had learned her lesson. She’d given her heart to him once and he’d ripped it up. Giving herself to him had been reckless and foolish. “I will retire,” she whispered, stepping back again. “I am tired. I did not sleep well last night.” She did not wait for his response; instead she turned and walked away.

 

Marcus

Marcus turned away as she left and looked out into the pitch black of night now that dusk had passed.

When he’d seen her standing here in the half-light he’d wished that he could paint, that he could capture that moment of her beauty. Why had he brought her here? He hardly knew why himself, other than it was easier to keep her away from Percy on his home ground. Liar, you brought her here, because you wanted her here.

Elizabeth was the only woman who had ever affected him beyond a superficial lust. A need for her pulled at his senses, a very deep need. He felt like an addict and he was tired of sharing the woman.

He sighed into the night. Elizabeth’s beauty and the beauty of his home were matched – things he desperately wanted but would never claim.

Home. What a damned fool word to describe Larchfield. This place had never been a home to him, not when he was a child and certainly never as an adult. In fact he had only returned to the property twice in all the years since leaving school. He paid his man of business to manage it, actively avoiding the need to do anything for it, and that had included visiting the place. He kept it on for Jason’s children, not his own.

Damn it, why do I care if she likes the place?

But he had meant that question. He’d brought her here to like it, to see if she liked it. Yet who knew why? He did not.

To be continued…

~

Over the Christmas holidays I’ve been busy checking the last edit of the next book in the Marlow Intrigues which is out on January, 22nd, The Dangerous Love of a Rogue, but boy does it make me realize how simple this story which I wrote years ago was, this is so different to what I’m writing now, but it was never intended to be anything other than a Mills & Boon monthly, I don’t think I would be capable of even trying to write one now as my word counts extend and extend… 😀

If you cannot wait until next week for more of Jane Lark’s writing there’s plenty to read right now 😀

To read the Marlow Intrigues series, you can start anywhere, but the actual order is listed below ~ and click like to follow my Facebook Page not to miss anything…

 

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The Lost Love of Soldier ~ The Prequel #1 ~ A Christmas Elopement began it all ~ The paperback would be a  lovely stocking filler 😉 

The Illicit Love of a Courtesan #2 

Capturing The Love of an Earl ~ A Free Novella #2.5 

The Passionate Love of a Rake #3 

The Desperate Love of a Lord ~ A second Free Novella #3.5 

The Scandalous Love of a Lord #4

The Dangerous Love of a Rogue #5

Jane’s books can be ordered from most booksellers in paperback and, yes, there are more to come  🙂 

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Go to the index

For

  • the story of the real courtesan who inspired                          The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,
  • another free short story, about characters from book #2,      A Lord’s Scandalous Love,
  • the prequel excerpts for book #3                                           The Scandalous Love of a Duke

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click  ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook  page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark