The first of the truths a real courtesan excluded from her memoirs ~ How she fell

Harriette_Wilson00If you have been following my blog for a little while, you will know that Harriette Wilson, the real Regency courtesan who published her memoirs in 1825 as a kiss and tell series, inspired the first novel in the Marlow Intrigues series, The Illicit Love of a Courtesan, I have been sharing the version of her life she told in her memoirs here for about a year, but over that year so many times people have told me – but it’s known she lied in them.

Well recently, I discovered the work of someone who has researched Harriette’s real life, and so I can now share with you some of the things she did not include.

As to whether or not she lied, well I will also cover that… But… I will say now, I have used her memoirs as a wealth of insight into the Regency world, her writing is like looking in through a window to see how life was for someone who lived then, and yes, you can definitely spot the scenes where there is some embellishment, either because she was writing for an audience, or because she wished to hurt someone who had hurt her… But overall, many of her scenes are from truth. Plenty more of this in the next couple of weeks, including some insights which I have found really upsetting.

But let’s start at the beginning, Harriette opens her memoirs at the point she had already become a courtesan, and was living in Brighton, on the Marine Parade with Lord Craven, everything she tells us about Lord Craven implies she thinks him tedious and from the beginning she appears unhappy with him. So why had she taken him as her first protector?

Harriette does not tell us.

But here is what Frances Wilson has discovered.

Harriette was the 6th daughter in her family, and she also had 4 younger sisters  and 2 brothers so there were 12  children in all.

I have been saying for weeks her father was a watchmaker, but apparently that was a myth. Her father really laundered silk stockings, which you may think a mundane task, but only the genteel wore silk, and there was an art to keep the fashionable white stockings clean. It was a business that paid well, and her father and mother ran it from a large town property in Queen Street, in between Curzon Street and Charles Street, right in the heart of fashionable London, among their customers.

The family were not poor, but obviously not upper class,  yet their neighbours included Dr Merriman, Lord Craven, Lord Lucan, Lord Whitworth and the Dowager Countess of Granard… Harriette and her sisters grew up watching wealthy young and titled gentleman walk past No. 23 Queen St hourly.

Harriette was taught to read by one of her older sister’s, the one she calls Paragon in her memoirs, growing up she recorded her favourite novel as Gil Bas, the story of a rogue who has many adventures and becomes a wealthy Lord. She apparently imagined herself writing a female version of the story.

Harriette says when she was younger, that her sisters constantly spoke of the men who lived near them. Fanny was kissed by Tom Sheridan, and read aloud the love letters she had received, and Paragon agreed to walk out with a man, while the others glorified Berkeley Craven’s bright eyes. Harriette at this point was uninterested, but then she declares that listening to such things for so long inspired her to become inquisitive, and then she started curling her hair, and receiving her own love letters through the hands of the maids.

It was then her mother chose to send her off to a convent school in Rouen, as far away from the interest of the debauched men of London society, who thought nothing of trying to tempt young girls into sin, as possible.

She returned in 1800, to discover that two of her older sisters, Fanny and Amy, had given in to the charms of such men, and run off to become the mistresses of a Mr Trench and a Mr Woodcock. Amy had found Mr Trench who sent her back to school, settled a hundred a year on her, and then never saw her again, and so Amy found General Madden to keep her company. It was then that Fanny followed the example of her sister and let herself be set up in a house by Mr Woodcock. She used his name although he already had a legitimate wife he lived with.

When Harriette published her memoirs in 1825, someone who claimed to have known Harriette in 1800 wrote a letter to The Times, signing himself ‘An Old Rake’ he described Harriette as ‘a little dirty girl, whose name was Du Bouchet, who was five and twenty years ago a regular tramp in St Jame’s Street… bunch backed with a shuffling gait.

Harriette was then fourteen, and her father was unwilling to feed her, he wished her to support herself, and her father had been a figure to be frightened of all her life. When she was younger, once she recorded angering him, and then taking a beating with a birch that disfigured her entire body, while beyond the chamber door her mother screamed for her father to stop.

From a family that was not poor, but not at the level of someone who might be a companion, Harriette had one option, teaching, it would have been abohorent to her to take on a labouring job or a position as a servant when she came from a family who had servants. She had lived a lifestyle in town, probably similar to that which Jane Austen lived in the country, but Harriette’s family were not descended from a title, so there were no wealthy relatives to be looked to for support.

Of course her sisters had taken another option, to become kept women, a role in which they would still have servants, and be paid more money than they would as teachers, and the role must have seemed far less strenuous 🙂

Harriette’s mother found her a position as a music teacher in a school initially, near Hyde Park, but Harriette only survived three months there. The French mistress, having claimed to see Harriette’s breast uncovered, said she could not be a virgin. Harriette returned home. An appointment was then found for her at a girls’ school in Newcastle upon Tyne, and she travelled there on the mail coach, with Tom Sheridan, who was returning to his regiment in Edinburgh.

To express the sort of young man Tom was, like so many of the young men of the day, Francis Wilson records some of the things he was known to have said ‘Told by his father to take a wife, Tom replied ‘Yes but who’s?’ Told by his father he would be cut off with a penny, Tom asked whether he might have the penny now.’

It is not known what occurred on their journey, but there are hints in Harriette’s memoirs, that imply she may have allowed herself to be seduced by Tom, during the two days and one night they travelled, and certainly when she left him at Newcastle upon Tyne, she had agreed to him sending her love letters, with which she could tease her sisters.

Harriette did not survive long at this school either, such a life was too boring, and Tom Sheridan suggested to her in his letters that she should become an actress. The idea appealed, and Harriette headed back to her family home in London. But her father refused such a notion. Being an actress was no better than being a prostitute, and he said ‘he would rather see me in my grave.’

It was her father’s anger which finally drove her away. Francis Wilson, says, Harriette made him his favourite meal, and waited up beyond the time she was supposed to be in bed to ensure it remained hot, only to receive a scolding for her attempt to placate him, for her disobedience in staying up…

Harriette then planned her escape, but she did not run very far to look for her saviour, only to the end of the street where her parents lived. It is believed she ran away initially with Berkeley Craven – he who was revered by her sisters for  his bright eyes. She had known the family for years. But it was not Berkeley Craven she remained with, it was his older brother, Lord Craven, who she became the mistress of…

And what happened then, I will continue next week… 🙂

~

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

 

A Lord’s Desperate Love Part Thirteen ~ A Historical Romance Story

A Lord’s Desperate Love

A Historical Romance Story

© Copyright Jane Lark

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Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

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Part Thirteen

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Geoff was sweaty and hot when she curled into him. She didn’t care. Janet might be back any moment. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but him.

Her palm rested on his pectoral muscle, over his heart.

He had such a perfectly defined body, cut with visible lean muscle and sinew.

She ran her fingers across his torso again.

His hand covered hers.

“I was sleeping, Vi.”

She laughed and propped herself up on one elbow, remembering doing the same the first night she had slept with him and even that night she had felt an axis shift beneath her. It had never only been sex with Geoff.

His fingers stroked over her hair, which was now unconfined and spilled on to his chest.

She could not believe the all-consuming love which brimmed in her body. Certain it shone through her eyes she said in a low voice. “I wish to stay here for a week. Would you send to London and make the arrangements for the wedding, while we get to know one another better?”

He gave her wicked rakish smile. “Get to know one another better? Do we not already know one another well enough?”

“Not as two people who are engaged. I wish to learn all there is to know about you, Lord Sparks. All your likes and dislikes, where you have been and where we are going. We shall have to make compromises.”

He laughed “You mean you wish me to compromise.”

She smiled, her fingers touching his cheek as she saw his eyes laugh too.

“Well first, I would like to keep my house. May we live there? I have always loved living there.”

His fingers stroked over her hair again, as he smiled up at her. “Yes, you may keep your house and we’ll make it our home.” He raised an eyebrow. “After all as I recall you do not like bachelor rooms.” She laughed. “But on the condition you let me at least have two rooms I might decorate with a more masculine style.”

“You may have three.”

He laughed.

“But, Violet, if you stay here, we shall whip up a scandal, this is a village not the capital, you’ll never hide our indiscretion here. Their sensibilities will be shocked to the core.”

“And am I known for caring what others think?”

He shook his head at her, smiling in an open way she had never seen before, as though it was reaching from his heart out of his chest and through his eyes. “I see the violet I knew in London has returned.”

Oh she loved him. “Why do you think I acquired the name the Merry Widow? Because I can smile regardless, Geoff.”

His fingers touched her cheek. “That is the woman I fell for, but you shall only be a merry widow for another week, Vi, after that you shall be my wife.”

“And then I shall be your very happy wife.”

~

 

Robert Marlow, the Earl of Barrington, probably Geoff’s closest friend, and the only one Geoff had considered for the role of groom’s man, stood at Geoff’s shoulder as they heard the sound rise like a wave through the church.

Violet was here.

Geoff’s heart thumped as he heard people turning behind him and making sounds implying she looked beautiful.

Robert touched Geoff’s arm, stirring him from the paralysis which had swept over him. He looked over his left shoulder.

Violet was walking up the aisle with Jane, Robert’s wife and Violet’s friend.

Violet wore a very pale blue. The dress was simpler than her usual style, but then she’d only had two days to find a dress once they’d returned to town, having left half of Lacock red-faced at the audacity of their reunion.

He smiled at the thought, and at her, as she came closer.

The curve of her stomach was clearly visible, and probably the real cause of the stir of sound which was following her along the aisle.

Nearly all their audience were only discovering their situation as she walked.

He saw her chin was high and a bright defiant smile shone in her eyes and touched her lips.

The simplicity of her dress only made her look more beautiful and the bonnet covering her hair was an intricate straw weave, with a shower of artificial cream flowers by her ear. That colour was mirrored in her gloves and in a shawl which draped over her arms. She looked perfect.

His heart seeped warmth as she came to stand beside him and Jane moved into a pew on the far side.

Before he turned back to the altar, in the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of his eldest sister crying. Their mother had died when they were young. His sister had played mother to him for the last of his school years.

He glanced at her and smiled, then nodded at his brothers, before he turned to face the altar.

Violet’s fingers settled over his.

She had feared his sister’s disapproval more than anything, yet Sophia had only been glad he was finally settling down. Even her husband the Marquess of Kent had cared nothing about the impending scandal Violet’s condition was going to arouse.

Geoff treasured the moment he put his ring on her finger.

~

Violet looked up.

There was a candle of affection burning in Geoff’s eyes and somehow she knew it would be an eternal flame. It flared in her too.

When she spoke her words, she said them to him, not the vicar, nor God, nor even the church full of people, but just to him, and his words were for her.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.” The vicar’s voice echoed about the stone church, and then there was applause, started by Lord Barrington who stood beyond Geoff.

Geoff looked back and smiled before facing her again. Then one hand lifted her chin before he pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. “Lady Sparks,” he whispered as he pulled away.

“I like the sound of that.”

“So do I.”

They both smiled as his fingers gripped hers and the vicar asked them to sign the register.

The journey to his sister’s home gave them a few moments of solitude as they travelled in an enclosed carriage and kissed more thoroughly, thinking of their private celebration which would come much later.

They reached the house barely a minute or two before their guests, who passed them with glances at her stomach. Violet ignored them all.

Jane and Robert were the last to come in.

“The Earl and Countess of Barrington,” The Marquess of Kent’s starchy butler intoned, as if they needed an introduction. Neither Violet nor Jane made any move to pretend a formal greeting. They swept into each others arms.

Violet felt very different to the women she had been a month ago.

“I am happy for you,” Jane whispered against Violet’s ear, as Geoff shook Robert’s hand.

Then as the men walked towards the dining hall, Violet caught a hold of Jane’s arm. “And I for you, I cannot believe the change in Barrington.”

“He has not changed, Violet, he is just the man I have always known. But you though…”

Jane glanced down at Violet’s stomach and she coloured a little. “Why did you not say?”

“I did not admit it to myself. I could not believe I had been so foolish, and I was terrified of Geoff’s reaction. Still, anyway, he has been wonderful.”

Violet saw fluid glisten in Jane’s eyes and then Jane said quietly. “I am jealous. It is what I desperately want, and Robert too, to make up for the years we have missed. We want a child.”

Violet gripped Jane’s hand and patted it with her free one. “I am sure it will come.” She wished only happiness for her friend.

 

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A Lord’s Desperate Love is the  story of two of the secondary characters from the 2nd book in the Marlow Intrigues Series

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‘The Passionate Love of a Rake’

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There is just one more part to share in Geoff’s and Violet’s story, but Harper Impulse have now agreed to me sharing another story!

So they will continue

😀

~

Also for the story of the real courtesan who inspired  The Illicit Love of a Courtesan, and for the prequel excerpts leading up to John’s story in the

 The Scandalous Love of a Duke

Go to the index

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