Roses and History

And now for something completely different...Roses!

When I'm not writing books, I'm gardening, and somehow or other, I stumbled into roses. Ouch. When I started growing roses, I discovered the old garden varieties grew best for me and I became increasingly intrigued by the history of roses. In fact, I became so engrossed in roses that I even included them in several of my books, including Smuggled Rose and A Rose Before Dying.

Below are some of my notes about roses and their fascinating history. I hope you enjoy it and perhaps discover a few old garden roses you'd like to try out in your garden.

Historical Tidbits

ANCIENT TIMES

I'm not the only one fascinated by roses.  This flower has been described, and treatises written about how to grow roses by many ancient writers, including:

·         The Greek, Theophrastus

·         The Romans, Varro, Columella, Palladius, and Pliny.

·         The entire fourth chapter of Pliny's 20th book on Natural History is devoted to the rose.

Roses were used among the Greeks, Romans, Egyptians and others in their religious, public, and even their private lives.  The Romans apparently preferred to propagate roses by cuttings, since this yielded blooming plants much more quickly than raising them by seed.

Many of the Roman and Greek writers refer to the roses of Paestum, which according to Virgil and Pliny, bloomed semi-annually.  Some historians assert that this rose has died out, although others say it may be or may be related to the Autumn Damask rose. 

The number of rose varieties may have been limited in ancient times to a few spring/summer blooming varieties, but they had a lot of "tricks" to get them to bloom in off seasons.  Pliny wrote that in Carthage, Spain, the roses could be forced to bloom in the winter, and then the roses of Campania bloomed next, followed by those of Malta and lastly Paestum, which flowered in the spring and again in the fall.  The species, whatever it may have been, that bloomed in Paestum may be the one used by the gardeners in Seneca's time in Rome to force in warm-green-houses or retard blooming by withholding water at certain periods.

Nero was so extravagant that it is recorded that at one fete alone he spend more than four million sesterces, or one hundred thousand dollars (probably more now, due to inflation) in roses alone.  The roses were used to wreath their crowns, for garlands, and to cover their tables, couches and the ground.  They used them to surround the urns containing the ashes of the dead. 

Heliogabalus used so many rose petals at his banquet that some were suffocated on their couches.

Lucius Aurelius Verus had a couch made with four cushions made of very fine net, and filled with rose petals.
Rosalia is a Roman feast celebrating the rose, held each year on May 23.

A rose suspended over a Roman banqueting couch was used to indicate to guests that the conversation was sub rosa and therefore, confidential.  This convention was maintained well into the Middle Ages.

Romans often got their winter's supply of roses from Egypt, but eventually learned how to produce roses in winter through the use of green-houses heated by pipes filled with hot water.  During the reign of Domitian, this process for forcing roses in winter was so successful that they looked down with scorn on anyone who continued to import roses from Egypt.

Roses were cultivated in Greece, Rome and throughout the East for many purposes, including perfume.  One method of preserving the flower was to take a reed, split it down a short distance, stuff it with rose-buds and then bind with papyrus to prevent the scent from escaping.  They felt this method could preserve the perfume for a time, if they wished to preserve it while they traveled.

In order to ship roses, the Egyptians in Alexandria and Memphis sent roses in vases and boxes which were planted with roses.  They were shipped at the point just when the roses are beginning to break from the bud, in order to arrive in Rome at the most beautiful time when they are expanding.  The journey was estimated to take 20 days.  No one is sure what roses were grown by the Egyptians.  The French, when they explored Egypt, found the white rose (an Alba) and the Centifolia.  Speculation exists that the Autumn Damask might also have been grown.

The earliest rose concoctions were Greek in origin.  They steeped rose petals in olive or vegetable oil.  Later they learned that slowly heating rose petals in water could produce rose water, but it doesn't smell very strongly because not all of the oils in the rose can be dissolved in hot water.

In Persia or India, they discovered how to distill rose petals:  boil rose petals in water, collect the steam, cool it and you have 'attar of rose'.  Although this is stronger than rose water, it still doesn't last long.  But this is still a key component in perfume.  It takes an acre of roses to produce one lb of attar.

Greeks often planted garlic near the roots of roses and thought this helped the fragrance.

The island of Rhodes really means the Isle of Roses and the Medals of Rhodes have on the reverse side a rose in bloom and on the front, a sunflower.

In the East, the author Abu-Abdallah-ebu-el-Fazel described four roses:  the Double White with more than 100 petals; the Yellow; the Purple; and the flesh-colored which is the most common of them all.  He also says that the number of species is large, with the Mountain or Wild; the Double which is variegated with red and white shades; and the Chinese.  The Double, he says, is the most beautiful and have 40-50 petals. 

The Moors in Spain loved roses and reportedly multiplied them through suckers, cuttings, budding and grafting, so these methods are indeed old.  One Moorish author indicated the following as a method to for a rose to bloom in autumn: 

Choose one which is used to periodical waterings, then deprive it of water entirely during the heat of the summer, until August, and then give it an abundance of moisture.  This will hasten its growth and cause the expansion of flowers with great profusion, without impairing its ability to bloom the next spring as usual. 

Or, a second method:  In October, burn the old branches to the ground, moisten the soil for 8 days and then stop watering.  Alternate periods of moisture and drought as many as five times and in 60 days, or before the end of autumn, the roots will have thrown out vigorous branches which will be loaded with blooms, without impairing the plant's ability to bloom again in the spring.

Damascus, Cashmere, Barbary and Fayoum in Egypt all cultivated the rose for distilled oil or rose essence.  India was also famous for its rose gardens and the commercial cultivation of the rose.  Of all the countries, though, Persia was preeminent for roses during the 14th through 20th century.

MIDDLE AGES

Roses were widely cultivated in the Middle Ages and often worn by knights at tournaments as the emblem of their devotion to grace and beauty.

By the 8th century, the Emperor Charlemagne (742-814) issued a decree that all cities would plant roses in their public gardens, as they were thought to have medicinal value.

The Crusades introduced new roses into Europe, including new strains of Damask and Gallica roses.  Devout pilgrims to the Holy Lands often brought back roses as well.

When Saladin retook Jerusalem from the Christians in 1187 (3rd Crusade) he ordered 500 camel-loads of rosewater from Damascus to purify the Mosque of Omar.

Then there was the famous War of the Roses and its use of roses as emblems for the houses--something created by Shakespeare, by the way.  A red rose for the Lancaster and a white for the York.  The York house most certainly used either the 'Alba Maxima' or 'Alba Semiplena' for their rose.  The red is more difficult, but could have been the Apothecary's Rose.

In England in 1402, Sir William Clopton granted to Thomas Smyth a piece of ground called Dokmedwe, in Haustede, for the annual payment of a rose to Sir William and his heirs, in lieu of all services.

The demand for roses was so great in England that bushels of them were frequently passed by vassals to their lords in England and France.

Among the New Year gifts to Queen Mary in 1556 was a bottle of rose-water.

In an account of a grant of a great part of Ely House, Holborne, by the Bishop of Ely, to Christopher Hatton, for twenty-one years, the tenant covenants to pay, on midsummer-day, a red rose for the gate-house and garden, and for the ground (fourteen acres) ten loads of hay and ten pounds per annum; the Bishop reserving to himself and successors free access through the gate-house for walking in the gardens and gathering twenty bushels of roses yearly.

RENAISSANCE

By the Renaissance, the Dutch and Flemish painters discovered roses and painted the lovely Centifolia.  If a rich buyer wanted a yellow "Rose of Provence" (Centifolia) they could certainly have one!  (Even if it didn't exist in nature!)

Micholas Culpeper (1616-54) prescribed a dry conserve of rose hips from Rosa canina for weakness, and a conserve of "sugar of rose" to help digestion.  Cuttings of the Gallica Rose 'the Apothocary's Rose' or 'Officinalis' were often tucked away by goodwives and others for medicinal purposes.

John Gerard's Herball in 1597 listed 16 different roses, grown in his Holborn garden.

John Parkinson (apothecary to King James I) published Paradisi in Sole Paradisus Terrestris in 1629 and lists 29 roses.

Mary Lawrance's work, A collection of Roses from Nature (the first monograph on roses) in 1795 listed nearly 90 roses.

Pierre-Joseph Redoute published Les Roses between 1817 and 1824, and expanded the list of cultivated roses to nearly 170.  The is probably the most famous and influential work on roses.

By 1848, some 1,500 different roses were listed, described, and offered for sale by William Paul's "The Rose Garden" catalogue.  There were nearly 800 Alba, Centifolia, Moss, Damask, and Gallica Roses.  But, by the time of the 10th edition in 1910, this list of old roses fell to below 90 roses or around 20%, and the bulk of the roses were now as we know them:  Hybrid Teas and other remontent classes.

This is obviously just a glimpse of the history, but at least it shows you what a valuable and wonderful plant the rose truly is.  Can you imagine being able to lease land by just allowing the owner to come and pick roses from the gardens?

How to deal with bullies...in practical terms

Bullied?
So was I and here is practical advice on dealing with it. Make them your best bud.
It's not as crazy as it sounds.
The news is full of stories lately about bullies and there is a lot of fuzzy advice out there that really doesn't help all that much, speaking from my experience that is.

What credentials do I have to even discuss this topic? Well, experience for one thing. And PhD parents (child development and psychology) who thought their children were a pair of lab rats. And dealing with a lot of animals. That last isn't as far-fetched as it sounds, because we're all just glorified animals, and as Cesar Millan always says, "There are no bad dogs, just people in need of retraining." It all amounts to...you.

Here is a relevant truism.
People live up (or down) to your expectations. You expect them to be mean and they will be more than happy to accommodate you.

Side Note: Have you ever noticed how happy-go-lucky people always seem so lucky? Expectation, baby. If you expect to be lucky and you expect to be happy, chances are good it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Sure, no one gets 100%, but you get more than your average bear who expects to fail or be unlucky. (This is relevant. Really.)

So, back to the advice bit. I'm going to have to intersperse this with my own story so that it kind of makes sense. I hope.

Back in 8th grade, my gym locker was directly beneath this hood's locker. (In my day, we called the folks who smoked, cut school, and were generally bullies, "Hoods.") She made my life a living hell for the first few days.

Eventually, even my mother noted I was not my usual self.

Side Note: There is no situation that can not be made worse by going to your parents or other person in authority.

I was reluctant to tell her (and rightfully so), but I eventually divulged just enough to get one sentence back from her that changed everything. "Smile. Make friends with her." Of course, Mom also offered to do the parental thing and makes matters a whole lot worse by going to my school, but I deftly handled this by telling her I would handle it myself. No problem. (I hate it when others offer to help me. I'm an independent little cuss. Always have been, always will be.)

The next day, when this hood showed up, I turned to her, smiled, and said, "Hi!" I may have also added, "How's it going?" It's hard to remember every word spoken 40 years ago.

After that, instead of avoiding her, pretending she wasn't really there, or any one of a number of essentially passive and fearful avoidance behaviors, I smiled and talked to her. I even went out of my way to talk to her in the hallways and around school where normally I could have safely avoided her.

She immediately stopped bugging me. Not only that, less than a week later, I found out she'd defended me against some other kids ( had no idea and really should have thanked her).

We didn't exactly become best friends, but the bullying stopped. Turns out her life wasn't all cake and roses, either. She was interesting, too, even if our friendship was pretty much limited to a few classes in school. I often wonder what happened to her, because she was traveling a very hard road. I hope her life got easier, because she was never really as tough as she made out to be.

Were my actions manipulative or fake? Possibly. I know my immediate reaction to what my mother advised was, "You've got to be kidding me!" But over time, I've realized that smiling does make a difference (there are even physiological changes that occur when you smile...but that's another story and my interest in biology coming out).

People who smile and exhibit easy-going confidence (as opposed to confrontational behavior) will almost always diffuse a bad situation. Project the idea that you like the person in front of you. After all, most bullies are greeted with fear, avoidance, and downright hatred. That's bound to make anyone hostile. If you start greeting people with affable good humor (something few see now-a-days), you'll be amazed at the results.

Lessons Learned
Cesar Millan, in working with dogs, would immediately recognize the lessons here.

• Projecting fear, avoidance, and the attendant emotional responses is like chum to a shark. Even if you have no confidence whatsoever, you project it. Walk like you have someplace to go. Shoulders back. Plaster a smile on your face. Believe that it is possible to like any humanoid facing you, even the drooling, knuckle-dragging ones.
• Do not avoid. That's like running away from a lion. The lion's (bully's) first impulse will be to attack and kill. When confronted, do not tense up. Relax. Smile. Show an interest in the other person. What's the worst that can happen?

Your Action Plan
So here are the practical steps.

• You run into the bully. Smile. Stand your ground, but keep your body relaxed. Under no circumstances will you avoid the bully. Be glad to see the bully. Really.
• At a minimum, say, "Hi." If you feel you need to say more, just ask general social questions like, "How are you?" If you can, say, "I'm glad to see you. Are you going to be in class today?" And really project that you are, indeed, glad to see this person.
• Response. Initially, you may get a negative response like, "Why?" or "Are you crazy?" 
• Your response. Shrug. Smile. Say something/anything that is even vaguely positive like, "I don't know, I just think you're kind of interesting/cool." Of course, try to avoid sexual connotations here or things may disintegrate. :)
• Another negative response. The bully is probably still unsure what is going on and may be angry because of it. Expect something like, "You're a total jerk/idiot."
• Your response. Chuckle. (I mean it, chuckle like the bully said something really funny--even if it was a terrible insult. Believe that the response was just joking around.) Shake your head and smile. Say, "You crack me up." Then make an offer like, "You on your way to class?" and gesture/wave to indicate you wouldn't mind the bully's company to walk to class.

If you persist and meet the bully's reactions with humor, you will diffuse the situation. You may even end up with a new best bud. Or not. But at least you will stop being the victim and stop projecting, "Victimize me!"

Finally, I know a lot of you are thinking, "Easy for you to say." Or even, "Yeah? Well, you don't understand. I'm miserable at school and I hate these people. I'm not happy, and I'm going to plaster a happy smile on my face and be a total fake."

That's fine. But just realize that you are making a choice when you do that. You're choosing to be miserable and victimized. The power is in your hands. Use it or lose it.

Of course, in the end, your mileage may vary. And this works in the office, too, not just in school. Dealing with other people is very much like dealing with aggressive dogs and other animals. To a large extent, their reaction is entirely dependent upon what you project. Project confidence and ease, and the others will relax, too.

Most of all, just be happy!

JASNA and Last Chance for a Free Copy of Escaping Notice

Just got back from Maryland where I had a wonderful time at a book fair hosted by the Jane Austen Society of North America (I'm joining, too--these folks are wonderful!). I was thrilled (not to mention intimidated) by the amazing authors who did readings from their books and there were a ton of fascinating books for sale. I had to really resist adding more than a few books to my library, which is already full to overflowing.

The author panel included: Sandy Lerner, Margaret Sullivan, Catherine Reef, Janet Mullany, Lori Smith, and Diana Peterfreund. Oh, and me. Everyone was so nice that I hope they'll make this an annual event as it is a terrific way to start the summer season.

Speaking of which...to celebrate, I'm offering my latest bestseller, Escaping Notice, free for the next three days. That is, Thursday, June 14 through Saturday, June 16, 2012. Here's a bit about it and a teeny-tiny excerpt. Hope you enjoy it!

Escaping Notice

Discarded by his betrothed with a parting sally that “being an earl does not excuse being a bore,” Hugh Castle, the Earl of Monnow, joins his brother on a relaxing cruise, hoping to forget. But a storm capsizes their boat, and despite Hugh’s desperate efforts, he can’t save his brother’s life. Then, when the wreckage reveals evidence of sabotage, he realizes he was never meant to return to dock. Someone intending to murder the earl killed his younger brother, instead. Angered and grieving, Hugh travels to London to enlist the aid of the Second Sons Inquiry Agency in finding his brother’s murderer.

Helen Archer attended the Earl of Monnow’s ball in expectation of joining the celebration for his betrothal, but the event seems destined for disaster. She arrives late, the earl makes no announcement, and Helen manages to lose the fabled (but cursed) Peckham necklace her sister reluctantly loaned to her. Unwilling to admit her carelessness to her sister, Helen rashly decides to return to the earl’s estate and retrieve it in secret.

When his aunt threatens to send him to the Earl of Monnow, his purportedly cruel uncle, Edward Leigh-Brown decides he’s had enough of female interference. He’s going to join the navy and follow in Lord Nelson’s footsteps to become a military hero. But finding his way to London is a lot harder for a young boy than it seems, and he’s soon lost. When he bumps into Miss Helen Archer at an inn, he’s more than happy to accept a ride in her carriage, even if she seems determined to escort him to an inquiry agency to hire someone to locate the family he doesn’t want located.

When the three meet in London at Second Sons, Helen impulsively decides to accompany Hugh to the earl’s home. They will be disguised as servants and free to pursue their secret goals. Hugh hopes to uncover a killer, Helen hopes to find her necklace, and Edward just hopes he can find the opportunity to escape again.

Excerpt

In this scene, Helen Archer has met up with a young boy, Edward, and has offered to convey him to London in her carriage. She little realizes what an expert Edward is at impromptu fiction, particularly when he wants to get rid of unwanted company.

Chapter Seven

“A chief part of his duty consists in assisting in the rough work ….” —The Complete Servant

Edward Brown-Leigh studied Mr. Stewart as Miss Archer left the room. The man was really offensive, another word which had recently come into his vocabulary and was already proving useful. Edward wanted to punch him in his red nose for the way he stared at the delicate Miss Archer.

“You were lucky, sir,” Edward said when the man turned towards him. Despite teasing Miss Archer, Edward had rather liked her. She was pretty and she hadn’t treated him like a sapskull, two qualities which immediately endeared her to him. He was also tired enough after walking all day with his heavy valise to be grateful to her for her offer to take him to London tomorrow in her carriage.

He did not like Mr. Stewart, however. Or the way his beady little eyes had followed Miss Archer.

After Edward’s comment, Mr. Stewart laughed, although it had a hollow, false note.

“Lucky? I agree. It was a lovely piece of luck to find the inn so full that I was forced to share a room with such a charming couple as you and your fair sister.”

Edward shook his head and fixed a pious expression on his face. “Oh, indeed. But what was lucky was that my sister hadn’t the opportunity to serve you anything to drink.”

“To drink?” Mr. Stewart echoed Edward’s words before giving another, less hearty, laugh.

“You saw the blue vial she carries?” Edward shook his head mournfully.

“Yes. What of it? Just smelling salts or some similar medicine. All delicate ladies carry such things.”

Edward sighed. “If it was only that ….”

“Only that?”

“We’re going to London to see a doctor, you see. I only hope we can get there without any more … incidents.”

“Incidents?”

“Yes. I probably shouldn’t tell you about our difficulties, but it’s been preying on my mind ever since father took ill last winter and left it up to me to see that my sister gets the care she needs. I’m only praying she won’t end up in Bedlam, though if another man …. Well, I shouldn’t tell you our troubles.”

“Bedlam?” Mr. Stewart’s voice squeaked. His ruddy face grew pale although his blob of a nose remained bright cherry red.

“Yes. You see, my sister is easily annoyed by strange men. And when she gets annoyed, she has a way of slipping a little something extra into their drink.”

“Poison? Why in God’s name isn’t she locked up?”

“Oh, she hasn’t actually killed anyone.” He smiled reassuringly and widened his eyes to prove his earnestness. “Not yet, anyway. And fortunately, she listens to me and is quite docile when I'm present. We have every hope for a cure after we get to London. We’re going to see a specialist.”

Lifting his hat in one hand, Mr. Stewart wiped his sleeve over his brow. When the door behind him opened, he jerked violently, hitting the table with his hip. Edward stared at the floor to keep from laughing at the expression on Mr. Stewart’s face when Miss Archer entered the room, followed by a woman Edward presumed to be her maid.

“Oh, you’re back!” Mr. Stewart exclaimed. “I’m dreadfully sorry, but you must excuse me. Terribly sorry.” He dashed past the two women who stared after him, open-mouthed.

Edward smiled triumphantly at Miss Archer and was rewarded with a puzzled look that made him somewhat nervous. A slight frown pinched the skin between her brows. If she heard what he had told Mr. Stewart, she might take it amiss.

He shuffled his feet and gazed at the door, wondering if discretion really was the better part of valor as The Aunts had insisted.

Perhaps they’d been mistaken about that and he should admit the truth to Miss Archer and hope for the best.

 * * * * *

For those who have more eclectic tastes in literature and a fondness for short stories, you might be interested to know that Edward Brown-Leigh is my small tribute to H. H. Munro, who wrote under the pseudonym of Saki. Munro was rather plagued by Aunts, as well (yep, that's Aunts with a capital "A") and he might feel a great deal of sympathy for poor Edward. Munro is one of my all-time favorite authors and I never tire of reading his biting, witty short stories.

And if you've read any of Munro's stories, you might say that just like Edward, romance at short notice was his specialty, too. (I hope fans of his story, "The Open Window" won't roll their eyes too much. I know, it's a groaner.)

Have a wonderful weekend!

Catching up and JASNA

Got back from the Malice Domestic conference where I had a great time rubbing shoulders with all kinds of truly wonderful mystery writers, and I've spent the last few weeks just trying to catch up! There's always so much going on in the spring.

In fact, I don't think I'm the only one behind. The farmer planted the field in front of us with oats but hasn't harvested yet, and we noticed that one of the storms we had earlier in the week knocked most of it down. :( But maybe he was just going to plow it under? Or forgot.

However, the birds seems happy with it, particularly the Blue Grosbeaks.

And just last night we picked some of the first plums of the season from the trees in our back yard! Hard to believe. The crop isn't huge this year, but it's tasty as ever and I think I might look up a recipe for Plum Kuchen as a treat for my husband. I've been spending a lot of time in the garden, trying to get it in order (without much success). Gardening here consists more of killing things than planting--we're totally overrun with smilax, poison ivy, Virginia creeper, horse feather, dog fennel and other garden thugs who think they can take over the place. Unfortunately, they are often right, and they do. So I've got my normal spring crop of poison-ivy rash but I haven't given up the fight.

On June 9, 2012, I'll be heading back up to Maryland for the Jane Austen Book Fair! I can't wait. I'll be bringing along a selection of my own books, but I'm really looking forward to grabbing up a few books by the other authors there.

Here's a bit about the book fair:

Author Readings and Book Sale to Celebrate Jane Austen
AT BOOK FAIR

BETHESDA, MD – Seven authors of modern works inspired by Jane Austen’s classic novels will read, discuss, and sign their books at a Book Fair sponsored by the Jane Austen Society of North America (JASNA) - DC Metropolitan Region, on June 9.  Five of the authors are from DC/MD/VA.

Highlighted works of nonfiction include Jane Austen:  A Life Revealed, by award-winning biographer Catherine Reef; The Jane Austen Guide to Life:  Thoughtful Lessons for the Modern Woman, by Lori Smith; and The Jane Austen Handbook:  A Sensible Yet Elegant Guide to Her World, by Margaret C. Sullivan.  On the fiction side, the authors’ styles and settings are diverse:  Ava Farmer’s Second Impressions continues Austen’s plots and uses her language; Amy Corwin’s A Rose Before Dying combines mystery and romance in a Regency setting; Janet Mullany’s Jane Austen: Blood Persuasion takes a paranormal turn, and Diana Peterfreund’s For Darkness Shows the Stars sets an Austen plot in a postapocalyptic future. 

Immediately following the author discussions, the used book sale will open, offering biographies, literary criticism, collectible editions of Austen’s novels, and British history, culture, and travel books, as well as fiction by Austen’s contemporaries and modern authors writing in the Austen spirit. 

The Book Fair is free and open to the public.  It will take place on Saturday, June 9, from 1 to 4 pm at Walt Whitman High School, 7100 Whittier Blvd., Bethesda, MD.  (This activity is not sponsored by, associated with, or endorsed by Montgomery County Public Schools or Montgomery County Government.)  Information is available online at www.jasna-dc.org or by calling (301) 926-3117. 

JASNA is dedicated to the appreciation of Jane Austen and her writing.  JASNA is a nonprofit organization, with approximately 4,000 members (more than 350 in DC/MD/VA), of all ages and from diverse walks of life.  The local chapter sponsors lectures, tours, discussions, and social events throughout the year.  The national website is www.jasna.org.

Escaping Notice is FREE!

For April 20 and 21 only, Escaping Notice, a Regency romantic mystery, is free! This is the fourth book in the Archer family series, but never fear, you don't need to read them in any particular order and they all contain the adventure, romance and lighthearted fun, along with a murder or two that you've grown to love. In fact, I may have to dream up a few more long-lost relatives and write a few more books for this series--I never expected it to be this popular. I guess everyone likes a laugh or two.

So what's this one about? Here's a brief blurb and excerpt. I hope you enjoy it.

Blurb

The murderer made his first mistake when he tried to kill Hugh Castle, the Earl of Monnow. His second mistake was killing Hugh's younger brother, instead. 

Wrestling with grief, Hugh is determined to discover why he was the target and get justice for his brother's death. When everyone assumes he drowned along with his brother when their sabotaged boat foundered, Hugh fosters that belief to trick the elusive killer into revealing himself.

But Hugh doesn’t count on running into two others also desperate to escape notice by assuming false identities. Helen Archer lost the fabled Peckham necklace at a ball given at Ormsby and risks censure and shame if she doesn’t find it. Young Edward Brown only wants to escape his unpleasant guardians and go to sea like his hero, Admiral Nelson. When the three meet, Helen and Hugh discover they are both going to Ormsby and hatch the perfect plan. By masquerading as servants, they can gain access to Hugh’s grand house and accomplish their missions in secret.

However, Edward objects for purely practical reasons. He wants to go to sea, not to Ormsby, and he definitely doesn’t want to spend his days polishing boots as a pretend servant. But the young boy's objections are overruled.

The adventure begins.

Excerpt

In this scene, Helen, Hugh, and Edward have been accepted into the household as new servants. Hugh and Knighton Gaunt, an inquiry agent Hugh hired to help him investigate, are breaking the news to Hugh's aunt that the earl's boat sank with Lionel and presumably the earl on board. Hugh is still hoping he was wrong and that Lionel somehow survived, but in his heart, he knows his brother perished at sea.

Unseen by the others, Helen entered the hallway. She stood hesitantly a few feet away from the tense cluster. As if sensing him, she looked in Hugh’s direction. When he caught her eye, he shook his head. She transferred her gaze to the floor.

Symes was the first to notice her. “You there,” he said. “Did you bring Miss Leigh’s brandy?”

“Yes, sir.” She held out a small glass filled with amber liquid.

“She’s had a terrible shock.” He waved her forward.

She handed the glass to Miss Leigh, who grabbed it and swallowed the contents in one gulp, causing her to go into a paroxysm of coughing. Helen eased the small glass from her hand and put an arm around Miss Leigh’s thin shoulders.

“May I help you upstairs? You should lie down.” Helen’s puzzled gaze flew first to Mr. Symes and then Mr. Gaunt, but both ignored her. “Come, Miss Leigh, you should lie down.”

Face red and damp from coughing, Miss Leigh leaned on Helen’s arm, and allowed herself to be led away.

When Gaunt placed his hat on his head in preparation to leave, Hugh slid quietly through the library and out of the French doors into the garden. He headed towards the front drive, hoping to cut Gaunt off before he departed. Halfway around, he met his quarry. Hugh waved and led him off towards a small copse of trees where they could not be seen from the house.

“What have you discovered?” Hugh asked, turning abruptly as he rounded the bole of a large oak.

“It’s early, yet,” Gaunt remarked. “They have collected the debris from the Twilight, however. And the constabulary of Burnham-on-Sea has instituted an investigation.”

“Any sign of Lionel?”

“Not yet. I’m sorry.”

Hugh ran a hand through his hair, glancing once over his shoulder in the direction of Ormsby. “Why did you not warn my aunt that Lionel is most likely dead? She may not see it as a kindness when she finds out.”

“You’ve presented me with a bit of a problem, my lord. According to your story, you were the only one who knew your brother went out with you on the Twilight. It would be impossible for me to know, or tell anyone, that Lionel is most likely drowned. Without his remains, how would I know unless you had told me?”

“Yes, but damn it, when she does discover it —”

“I’m sorry. However, there is no easy way to do this; no way to spare her feelings  ̶ or those of anyone else.”

“There is no sign, then, of Lionel?”

“No. As I mentioned, it’s possible that he survived —”

“No,” Hugh said, feeling the waves battering him, tearing him away from the foundering boat and his brother. The unbearable, unforgiveable lightness when he had lost his grip on Lionel. “No. I realize there is no proof, but he could not have survived. Eventually, we’ll have to reveal that Lionel is dead.”

Thanks and enjoy!

Jack Russells, or is that Jane Russells?

Folks may wonder why I’ve been a tad quiet lately, but it’s because we have a new member of the family: a Jack Russell Terrier named Miss Daisy May. Or a Jane Russell, as my husband says. We adopted her from a friend of my husband’s who did not want her anymore. She’s a year old and had been boarded in a kennel.

We’ve had her for a week now.

Why am I telling you this? Well, you see, we’d been warned against Jack Russells, just like we were warned about adopting one of our other “children,” a Chesapeake Bay Retriever named Molly.

Prior to this, we’d only had labs (and chows and other strays) and as everyone knows, labs are “easy.”

How did this all come about?

Well, my husband decided he wanted to give me a Jack Russell for Christmas, but when the breeder heard that we also had two cats, he refused to give my husband a dog. So, we figured it was just one of those ideas that would never take root. You see, we have a bad habit of adopting strays and right now, our menagerie consists of:

A chocolate Labrador Retriever named Rowdy—the result of an accident with a chocolate lab female one of our friends owned. Rowdy is 128 lbs and a totally loveable giant.

A Chesapeake Bay Retriever named Molly—a big girl at 90 lbs and s sweet as can be and absurdly smart, although she freaks outif you say, “No!”

An orange cat named Psycho—a male, stray cat who is totally psycho. He has absolutely NO sense of self preservation and we found him on our porch one day, sleeping while the dogs barked like crazy at him. Nuts. Completely.

A tortoise-shell cat named Cricket—a female stray who decided to live with us despite the fact that she totally hates all dogs. She tolerates Rowdy, though. Every critter on earth loves Rowdy. I’ve had serious concerns at times that someone would “walk off” with him just because he’s just so cool about everything.

Enter…Miss Daisy May. Yes, despite the breeder’s warning, my husband’s friend decided he wanted to get rid of her (he’d inexplicably called her Stripe, which reminded me of that evil Gremlin so we renamed her). We brought her home a week ago.

Here’s how it went.

1^st hour: The cats freaked and disappeared upstairs. Molly hated her. Rowdy fell in love with her initially, but soon cooled. I imagine his internal thoughts went:

“Wow! Cool! A sweet, nubile female…wait. What is this? Where’s the rest of her? Okay, maybe she’s not really my dream come true. Okay. Whatever. I’m over it.”

But Miss Daisy May took one look at Rowdy and her internal thoughts must have been something like: “Wow! Cool! Tall, dark and handsome! I love you!” She proceeded to curl up in his bed, next to him. She slept with him the first night. She continues to adore him, despite his general attitude that She Does Not Exist.

Miss Daisy May also learned how to open the front door and come inside. The other dogs generally come in through the back door because their combined weight can pop open the door unless it is locked. They then gallop through the house and out the front door. Miss Daisy May is the first one to figure out how to get back inside from the front door.

Day Two: Psycho decided he’d had enough hiding. He sniffed at Daisy. Daisy sniffed at him and wanted to play, but Psycho is too old and didn’t appreciate it so he abandoned the idea and hid again.

Interesting note: Miss Daisy May seems to be housebroken, even though the owner told us she was not. At least she goes outside and we’ve seen no evidence of going inside.

She and Molly have made friends and spent an hour chasing each other around the front yard.

Also, after taking the pack for our twice-daily walk, Miss Daisy May has decided she’s a retriever because she goes right into the pond along with the other dogs. Oh, and we’ve discovered she’ll actually retrieve. Cool.

I’m teaching her to sit.

Day Three: the cats have come out of hiding, realizing that Miss Daisy May isn’t going to up and die the way Cricket wants her to. Cricket hates her, but then Cricket hates all dogs. Psycho is willing to play for a few seconds before he has enough and abandons playtime for a quiet nap. Psycho is back to sleeping on my lap and is willing to share it with Miss Daisy May. There’s still a bit of sibling rivalry, but since they both end up asleep, it’s working out.

Miss Daisy May is getting better about sitting, and we’re enjoying playing fetch with her.

At the start of another week: We can say that as usual, despite conventional wisdom, things have worked out. We have cats and dogs living together. We love them all. They more or less get along.

How do we do it?

I admit, we’re lucky. We have 20 acres, 17 of which are wooded/swamp. We have a pond and 1 acre fenced for the dogs. We walk the dogs twice a day about a mile (it’s a mile round trip to the mailbox) and we’re good about exhausting the dogs.

The key really is exhausting the animals before they come inside.

The biggest enemy is boredom so when the animals get antsy, we toss them outside. They have an acre fenced in to mess around in, and when it's hot, we leave the back gate open so they can go to the pond.

A week after adopting Miss Daisy May, she’s settled in beautifully. She is giving Miss Molly much needed exercise and acting as a heating pad for Mr. Rowdy’s old bones. Psycho is asleep on my lap right now, with Miss Daisy May at my side as I write this. Once again, we’ve flouted the conventional wisdom that you can’t have Jack Russell dogs and cats. But then, our Jack Russell also swims and retrieves, and I intend to teach her some tricks.

It’s quite a menagerie, but a happy one.

Free for Two Days: The Vital Principle

To celebrate the release of my latest Regency romantic mystery featuring the irrepressible Archer family, Escaping Notice, my book The Vital Principle is free for two days on Amazon.com. I hope you'll pass the word and check it out! The Vital Principle has been a great flagship novel for me and continues to sell well.

Here's a brief blurb about The Vital Principle, along with a small excerpt.

The Vital Principle

A Second Sons Inquiry Agency Mystery

On sale for FREE from March 30-31, 2011

Back Cover Blurb

In 1815, an inquiry agent, Mr. Knighton Gaunt, is asked by Lord Crowley to attend a séance with the express purpose of revealing the spiritualist as a fraud. The séance ends abruptly, however, and during the turmoil, someone poisons Lord Crowley's brandy. Appalled that murder has been committed under his very nose, Gaunt is left to investigate not only fraud, but murder. Suspicion turns first to the spiritualist, Miss Prudence Barnard, but as Gaunt digs deeper into the twisted history of the guests at Rosecrest, he discovers more deadly secrets. Inevitably, long-time friends turn against one another as the tension mounts and Gaunt is challenged to separate fact from fiction.

EXCERPT

In this scene, inquiry agent Knight Gaunt is questioning Miss Prudence Barnard, a spiritualist he was hired to expose as a fraud. While he doesn’t quite believe she murdered their host, he’s not entirely sure she didn’t, either, and she’s not making it easy for him.

“May came from the right, however. Past the dowager and Lord Crowley.”

“Question her, then.”

“Rest assured, I will. And the others came around the table from that direction, as well.” He glanced at her again, remembering the details. “You assisted the dowager, didn’t you?”

“I don’t remember precisely, but I supposed I might have.”

“She was standing a yard or so away from the table. And you stood in front of her with your back to the table?”

Her expression tightened. “Then you do remember. Although I'm sure you believe I was close enough to Lord Crowley to pour a few drops of Prussic acid into his brandy. That is what you’re insinuating, isn't it?”

While her accusation was true, he couldn't actually picture her doing that. He had closely observed her the previous evening, waiting for her to try some trick. If she had approached Crowley’s snifter that closely, he ought to remember it.

“If you wish to admit—”

“I do not.”

He nodded. It would have been extremely difficult for her to carry around a bottle of Prussic acid without either pockets or a reticule.

Of course, he intended to verify the lack of pockets or reticule with Miss Barnard’s maid and the other lady guests. One of them may have noticed.

“If you’d just ask the dowager—” She stopped and then added hastily, “But don’t bother her now. She’s not well. It’s been very difficult with first her husband dying and now her son….” She ended awkwardly and glanced away, turning to focus on the sewing basket and magazine. Then her gaze flashed to his. He could see a sudden memory leap into her mind as her expression changed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I was wrong.” Her dark brows scrunched briefly. “I—”

“What?”

She shook her head.

“What did you remember? There’s no point in holding back. Ultimately, I’ll discover the truth.”

This earned a small, tight smile. “You’re frightfully conceited.”

“Yes.” A smile twisted his mouth. “Now what did you remember?”

“I—it’s probably nothing.”

“Will you stop equivocating? If it’s something odd, I can assure you there were enough people in the room to help confirm it. There’s no point in being coy.”

“Is that what I’m being? Coy? How unusual.” She certainly had a talent for sweetly stated sarcasm.

“I’ll hold whatever you tell me in confidence. I’m reputed to be a reasonably fair man.”

“As long as women aren’t involved. And it conforms to your idea of the truth.”

“Undoubtedly.” He held her gaze.

She flushed and pushed at the magazine on the table with her fingertips. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. You do rather have a reputation, however, for distrusting women. Although I’m sure you must have an excellent reason.”

“I assure you, I don’t dislike women.”

“As long as they stay comfortably in their place? And aren’t charlatans? We mustn’t forget how important absolute honesty is.”

“As long as you answer my questions truthfully, I’m completely impartial.”

A Brief Bio

Amy Corwin is a charter member of the Romance Writers of America and recently joined Mystery Writers of America. She has been writing for the last ten years and managing a career as an enterprise systems administrator in the computer industry.  She writes Regencies/historicals, mysteries, and contemporary paranormals. To be truthful, most of her books include a bit of murder and mayhem since she discovered that killing off at least one character is a highly effective way to make the remaining ones toe the plot line.

Amy’s books include the two Regency romances, SMUGGLED ROSE, and LOVE, THE CRITIC; three Regency romantic mysteries, I BID ONE AMERICAN, THE BRICKLAYER’S HELPER, and THE NECKLACE; and her first paranormal, VAMPIRE PROTECTOR.

Join her and discover that every good mystery has a touch of romance.

Escaping Notice has been Released!

Escaping Notice is out!

Escaping Notice, a Regency romantic mystery in the Archer family series is now available.

First we had The Necklace, where Oriana Archer found the Peckham necklace, a family heirloom with something a little extra, a curse. Anyone who wears the necklace is doomed. And for a while, it seems that may be true as Oriana is almost hung for murder after she discovers the necklace.

Then came I Bid One American where Oriana’s brother, Nathaniel, becomes the Duke of Peckham and the curse seems to continue when he’s accused of murder after the body of a debutante is found in his carriage.

The Bricklayer’s Helper was the third story, featuring Sarah “Sam” Sanderson, another irrepressible member of the Archer clan, who was in hiding after the death of her family until the killer realized she was alive.

Now, in Escaping Notice, Helen, Oriana’s younger sister, has lost the cursed Peckham necklace again and goes in search of it in the company of Hugh Castle, the Earl of Monnow.

Escaping Notice Blurb

A frog in a teapot, a lost necklace, and a sabotaged boat: incongruencies that lead an unlikely hero to investigate a chilling murder in Regency England.

Discarded by his betrothed with a parting sally that “being an earl does not excuse being a bore,” Hugh Castle, the Earl of Monnow, joins his brother on a short cruise, hoping to forget. But a storm capsizes their boat, and despite Hugh’s desperate efforts, he can’t save his brother’s life. Then he finds evidence amongst the wreckage of sabotage and realizes he was never meant to return to dock. Someone intending to murder the earl killed his younger brother, instead. Angered beyond reason, Hugh travels to London to enlist the aid of the Second Sons Inquiry Agency in finding his brother’s murderer.

Helen Archer attended the Earl of Monnow’s ball in expectation of celebrating his betrothal, but the event seems destined for disaster. She arrives late, the earl makes no announcement, and Helen manages to lose the fabled Peckham necklace her sister reluctantly loaned to her. Unwilling to admit her carelessness to her sister, Helen rashly decides to return to the earl’s estate and retrieve it in secret.

When his aunt threatens to send him to his cruel uncle, the Earl of Monnow, Edward Leigh-Brown decides he’s had enough. He’s going to join the navy and follow in Lord Nelson’s footsteps to become a military hero. But finding his way to London is a lot harder for a young boy than it seems, and he’s soon lost. When he bumps into Miss Helen Archer at an inn, he’s more than happy to accept a ride in her carriage, even if she seems determined to escort him to an inquiry agency to help locate the family he doesn’t want located.

When the three meet in London at Second Sons, Helen impulsively decides to accompany Hugh to the earl’s home, disguised as servants to pursue their secret goals. Hugh hopes to uncover a killer, Helen hopes to find her necklace, and Edward just hopes he can find the opportunity to escape again.

But an adventure none of them anticipated awaits them, and Hugh must hurry to identify who wants him dead before their deception ends in the death of another innocent.

I hope you will join the Archer family adventure as it swoops through Regency England with a chuckle and a toast to love eternal!

* * * * *

For those who enjoyed the blog on The New Death and Others, the fantasy noir by James Hutchings, you might be interested to know that it is FREE right now! So if you're curious and want a copy, be sure to check it out.

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Happy Reading!

Amy

An interview with K.J. Dahlen, author of Bones

Bones

By K.J. Dahlen

Interview

Why did you decide to write?

I love to read and one day I noticed all the books I was reading ended the same way. I wanted something different and  I thought I could do it, so I picked up a pen and began to write my own stories.

What is the best thing (or worst) that has happened to you because of writing?

I love seeing my books on a shelf. My books are in five different libraries and when I take another book in I love it when the librarians tell me the readers are waiting for the next book!

How much research do you do?

I really don’t do a lot of research. After all, it’s called fiction for a reason. Most of my books are pure imagination. 

 What’s your favorite method for researching? Most of the little research I do I do on the internet. You can find anything there.

Do you have a favorite theme or message for your readers?

I like to keep my readers on the edge of their seats, waiting to turn the next page. If I can do that then I feel I’ve done my job as a writer

When do you write/what is your writing day like?

I turn my computer on as soon as my husband leaves for work. I have found my best writing time is early morning when my mind is fresh and I have nothing else to do.

What is the best advice someone has given you about writing? The worst advice?

When I first thought about being a writer my husband told me to go for it. He encouraged me to try. That’s the best thing anyone could say.. At least try it

How do you approach a new book? Outlines? Just an idea?

I usually outline my ideas  but the book may not stay in the outline. My characters sometimes take the story off in their own direction.

How do you develop your characters?

I make them as real as I can. I give them characteristics that everyday people would have. My characters have to be as real as I can make them. I give them faults as well as values that we all have

Who are your favorite authors? Have any authors inspired you or influenced your work?

I enjoy so many authors it’s hard to pick just a few. Some of the authors I enjoy reading are friends of mine that are just now getting noticed as authors. McKensie S Hart is one, Bruce Sarte is another. Sandra K is another.  I enjoy John Grisham, James Pattern, Janet Dailey, plus a whole lot more.

What makes a great book in your opinion?

A book that takes me along with the story. If I can imagine myself in the place of one of the characters in the book that’s what makes a good story to me.

If a reader took away one thing from your book(s), what would you like that to be?

I want my readers to become part of my stories. I want them to feel the same tensions as my characters feel and at the end feel the same satisfaction.

Do you have any tips for aspiring authors?

Never give up on your dreams to become a writer. It may take a while to get to where you want to be but hang in there. I think a writer just has to find the right place for their works.

Where do you see yourself as an author in five years?

Hopefully making money from my writing. I’d like to be the next J.K. Rowlings J Wishful thinking I know but it’s a dream

Where do you see the publishing industry going in the next few years and where do you see yourself within this industry?

I think everything will eventually go digital, which in my opinion will be a shame. I feel there is nothing better than holding an actual book in your hand but now days most people want convenience.

Brief Bio

 Kim lives in a small town (population 495) in Wisconsin. From her deck she can see the Mississippi River on one side and the bluffs, where eagles live and nest on the other side. She lives with her husband Dave and dog Sammy. Her two children are grown and two grandchildren and for that fact she feels blessed. She loves to watch people and that has helped her with her writing. She loves to create characters and put them in a troubling situation and just sit back and let them do all the work. They surprise even her at times. They take on a life of their own and the twists and turns become a story. She found she liked mystery/thrillers the best. She likes to keep her readers guessing until the very end of the book.

Her next book coming out is in March 2012, titled Fall from Grace. 

BLURB :When a threat against America comes to the surface, retired  Homeland Security agent Lincoln Hawks is brought back to help put down the threat. He finds the group he's after is  the same group that murdered his wife and daughter five  years ago. Can Lincoln stop The Ghost Crew before they  destroy America?

This book is being published by Bucks County Publishing. She is also published by Rogue Phoeniz Press, Solstice,  and Avalon.

  

Email: kjdahlen1@yahoo.com

Web site: www.kjdahlen.com

I am on facebook and twitter as kjdahlen

  

Bones Blurb

When human bones are discovered in a cave just outside of town, it’s up to Sheriff Max Reardon to find out who the bones belonged to. But someone in town doesn’t want the bones identified and they go to great lengths to try and stop Max’s investigation.

They break into Max’s house and try and destroy the evidence and when that doesn’t work they frame Max for murder. Can Max clear his name and bring the murderer or murderers to justice?

Excerpt from Bones

Max squatted near the opening in the rocky outcrop and took off his sunglasses. He was hot and tired and had just about given up finding this place. He wasn’t eager to go inside since the inside of the opening was dark and uninviting. But Max knew he had to go in there. The small hole in the side of the cliff was barely big enough for a child to scramble into let alone a full size man, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. God, I hate small places, he thought as he crawled inside. The hole was small and cramped and Max had to bend over to get through. I really hate small places, he emphasized as he struggled to get through the cramped opening. The hole in the cliff had been harder to find than he expected. The directions given to him by two young boys hadn’t been all that clear.

The boys said the opening was straight up from the dam below and a little left of the big oak tree. What they failed to tell him was which big oak tree. The whole hill was littered with oak trees right up to the base of the cliff.

It had taken him the better part of an hour to find the opening. There had been a lot of hillside to search. The boys had told him they left an old t-shirt to mark the opening, but Max hadn’t found the t-shirt. Some small animal or the wind must have carried it away. He hoped he had the right entrance this time.

He’d found a couple of other openings in the rock face that had led him nowhere. This opening appeared to be the one the boys had described. According to the boys, this small cave led to a cavern with the treasure. Max hoped it led somewhere.

His hands and face were scratched up from pushing brambles and brush out of his way. The thought had also occurred to him that the seldom visited, rocky part of the side of a cliff just a little ways north of the town Max was sheriff of, might be just the spot to run into a snoozing wolf or worse yet a rattlesnake. He heard something scramble out of his way a couple of times, but he hadn’t heard the symbolic rattle of the snake so whatever remained hidden from his sight wasn’t a snake. He’d tried to make enough noise to ward off unexpected company and hoped he hadn’t sounded like a complete idiot in the process. If anyone had spotted him, they would have thought he was drunk in the middle of the morning and that would never do for a sheriff.

The flashlight he held in his hand did little to penetrate the utter darkness that surrounded him. The cave walls and floor were slimy with what Max didn’t even want to hazard a guess and it smelled even worse. It smelled like something crawled in this narrow opening and died. The boys who found the cave might think this little venture was "neat", but Max didn’t. He’d lost his sense of adventure for little games like this a long time ago. He couldn’t believe he was here now.

The boys had been in this cave a couple of days before and had found what they thought was an Indian burial place. They had been reluctant at first to tell anyone of their find but eventually told their dads. As a result, Richard Crabtree had brought his son, Timmy, to see him. Max could tell that Timmy hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about his secret place and Max hadn’t been all that interested in the boy’s tale. Most of it was just the imagination of a ten year old. It wasn’t until Timmy mentioned the skeletons that Max became interested.

Max knew enough about the local tribes in Wisconsin to know they didn’t bury their dead above ground in forgotten caves. The boys told him that they hadn’t seen or found any other Indian artifacts and Timmy was positive someone else had robbed the cave of all its treasure. As sheriff, Max felt bound to check out their story. If there were skeletons in there, he had to find out why.

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Giveaway

Kim will be giving away a $10 Amazon gift certificate, plus a chance to work with her on developing an idea for a new book, if you leave a comment. So be sure to follow the tour and leave comments. You can find dates for all of her tour stops at:

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2012/01/virtual-book-tour-bones-by-kj-dahlen.html.  

Enjoy!

P.S. I have to say that I really love the cover for Kim's book, Bones.