Tonight at 8:00 CST I'll be chatting about Murder at Hatfield House on Writerspace! Come and see me so i won't feel all alone--and there's a contest there, too...
http://www.writerspace.com/chat/
I also found this giveaway at Bookin' With Bingo...
An historical author shares her obsessions with books, tea, chocolate, wine, and whatever takes her fancy!
Tuesday, October 08, 2013
Monday, October 07, 2013
Excerpt Monday
Starting every Monday, since it's the day I generally have the hardest time feeling energetic, I'm going to share an excerpt from one of my stories! This week, since I'm still feeling Elizabethan, a snippet of Murder at Hatfield House...
Chapter One—Autumn 1558
The horses’
hooves pounded like thunder on the rutted road as the two riders
dashed under the low-hanging trees, still heavy from that morning’s
rain. The storm was long past, leaving the lane muddy and pitted,
and it was late for travelers. The night was gathering in fast, and
all sensible country folk were safe by their own hearths. The wind
whipped cold and quick through the branches—winter was not so far
off now.
But the riders took
no heed of the chill. They had important tasks to perform, for very
important people indeed, and they were already delayed. They had to
reach Hatfield House by that night, which was why he traveled with
only one servant and ordered the rest to follow the next day.
“God’s wounds,
but this is a foul place!” Lord Braceton cursed as his horse slid
on the wet ground. No one should have to live in such a forsaken
spot as the damned countryside. It smelled of fresh, cold air and
wet leaves, of cows and pigs and peasants, and the night sounds of
hooting owls seemed ominous to a man used to the constant shouts and
curses of London, the pungent, heavy air of the city.
The forest to
either side of the narrow road was thick, full of shifting shadows
and sudden sounds. It obscured the pale, chalky moonlight overhead
and hid the few houses and cottages from view. A man could be lost
in such a rural thicket and never be seen again.
Aye,
Braceton thought grimly as he pulled hard at his horse’s reins,
making the beast whinny in shrill protest. The countryside was a
God-forsaken place, fit only for animals and traitors. It was no
wonder so many of them gathered here, like a filthy, buzzing hive
around their whorish queen.
The only solution
to such a dirty, dangerous place was to destroy it and clean it out.
That was why he was here. To crush out the treason—and get back to
the civilization of London as fast as he could.
He glanced over his
shoulder at his manservant. Wat slumped in his saddle, his hood
drawn close over his head. The man had been more of nuisance than an
aid on this journey, whining and miserable every step of the way.
But he was from a good, loyal Catholic family, servants to Queen Mary
for a long time, and that was essential to Braceton’s task. Plus
Wat was young and strong, able to carry all the baggage.
“Sit up straight,
man!” Braceton shouted. “The faster we ride the sooner we’ll
be safe by a fire with a pitcher of ale.”
“If you can call
it safe, your lordship,” Wat shouted back. “There’s been no
safe place this whole journey. One cesspit after the other.”
And Wat had failed
at his task in almost every “cesspit”—he was told to make
friends with the servants and listen to their gossip. Braceton
himself had gotten nowhere with the stony-eyed landowners; no threats
or promises could move them to do their duty to the queen. But
servants were chattier, freer with their words, and they saw
everything that happened in their houses. They could have been an
excellent source of information, if Wat hadn’t behaved like such a
pouting fool.
But Braceton
couldn’t argue with Wat’s assessment of those houses. Dark
cesspits of stinking treason, all of them.
And now he was on
his way to the greatest pit of all. Hatfield House, the lair of the
heretic serpent Princess Elizabeth.
“You’d better
be of more use to me there,” Braceton shouted above the wind. “Or
the queen herself will hear of your piss-poor behavior.”
The horses swung
around a sharp curve in the road, and in the distance Braceton could
see the faint flicker of golden lamplight, the dark outline of a roof
and chimneys beyond. The gates of Hatfield at last.
But suddenly a
sharp, high buzzing sound cut the silence of the night. Braceton
twisted around in his saddle just in time to see an arrow arc out of
the forest. It glinted silvery in the darkness, like a shooting
star.
With a cry,
Braceton yanked his horse to the side and the creature reared up in
the air with a terrified scream. It stumbled in one of the deep ruts
and sent Braceton flying off into the mud.
There was a thud on
the ground, not far from where he lay in a stunned state, and he
pushed himself up. His head was spinning from the fall, and bright
spots danced in front of his eyes, but he could see clearly enough to
make out the body of Wat sprawled in the road. The servant’s horse
was galloping back the way they had just come.
The arrow had
landed squarely in Wat’s chest. His eyes were wide and shocked,
glowing glassily in the moonlight, and his mouth was wide open in a
silent scream. He died before he could make any sound at all.
Braceton’s horse
followed Wat’s down the lane, leaving him alone with the dead
body—and with whoever lurked in the woods. Two more arrows flew
out from the cover of the trees, landing in a tree trunk over
Braceton’s head and vibrating with the force of the impact.
They could very
well have landed in his chest, Braceton realized with horror. And
then fury swept over his fear. He was an agent of the queen, curse
it! He was here to root out the evils of treason and heresy, and
those filthy beasts dared attack him for it!
He lurched to his
feet and barreled into the woods as he drew his short sword. He
could only see by the moonlight filtering through the branches, and
it seemed as if laughing creatures lurked behind every tree and
boulder. He slashed out at them, catching only leaves with his
blade. Birds took flight from the treetops with terrified shrieks.
At last he saw a
flash in the darkness, a whirl of a cloak as someone ran silently
away. Braceton ran after that flicker of movement, crashing through
the underbrush.
By the time he
reached the jagged line where the trees gave way to the park of
Hatfield, silent and serene beyond the low rock wall, the person had
vanished. If it was a person, and not a demon or a ghost.
Braceton’s bearded face stung with sweat and the blood dripping
from the tiny cuts from the branches, and his lungs felt like they
would burst with the labor of his breath. Golden light shimmered in
the mullioned windows of the distant house, as if to mock him.
But he caught a
glimpse of something shining caught on the rough edge of the wall.
He snatched at it and found it was the torn, feathered bits of an
arrow’s fletching. Whoever had shot at him had fled to Hatfield.
Braceton crushed
the feather in his gauntleted fist. That witch Princess Elizabeth
would pay for this—and pay very dearly.
Chapter Two
“Curses on it
all, Kate! This leg is going to be the death of me.”
Kate Haywood smiled
at her father as she helped him lower himself into his favorite chair
by the fire. The red-gold flames crackled and snapped merrily,
valiantly trying to drive the chill away from the small rooms at the
back of Hatfield House. The wind moaned outside the window and
stirred at the faded tapestries on the wall, and the ghost-like sound
of it made her shiver.
“Poor Father,”
she said as she tucked a blanket around his legs. “Is your gout
horrible tonight? I shouldn’t wonder, with this damp, cold
weather.”
“It’s
bothersome all the time now, rain or shine,” Matthew Haywood
answered. “Ah, Kate, it is a terrible thing to be old. Enjoy
being eighteen, my dear, before your youth is done and aches and
pains beset you. I am falling to pieces.”
Kate laughed and
kissed her father’s gray-bearded cheek. “You are not very old, I
vow. You just claim you are so you can sit here by the fire and work
on your musical compositions with no one to interrupt you.”
“Would that were
so.”
“It is so.
You cannot fool me.” Kate turned to the sideboard where their
meager plate was stored and poured out a goblet of rich, red wine.
“Here, Father, this will soon warm you. The princess sent it to
you herself, she says the physicians claim it will strengthen the
blood.”
“Mustn’t refuse
the princess, then,” Matthew said. He took the wine from her hand
and swallowed a long sip. “It’s quite good. You should have
some, too. We all need strong blood to survive the winter.”
“We need more
than that, I fear,” Katherine murmured. She thought of the year
before, when Princess Elizabeth and several members of her household
were dragged away from Hatfield and tossed in the Tower on suspicion
of treason in the Wyatt Rebellion against the queen. Matthew and
Kate fled and took refuge at a friend’s house, waiting in daily
fear for word of Elizabeth’s fate. Matthew was only the princess’s
chief musician, but everyone associated with her was always in
danger. The queen hated her young half-sister, the Protestant
daughter of Anne Boleyn, and would do anything to see her downfall.
But at last there
could be no evidence found and so Elizabeth was released to come
home, under the strict watch of Queen Mary’s jailer Sir Thomas Pope
and his lemon-faced wife. Matthew and Kate came back to serve her,
to bring what merriment they could to the silent house. But every
day felt fraught with peril, as if they all waited with their breath
held to see what would happen next.
“What did you
say, my dear?” Matthew asked.
Kate gave him her
brightest smile, which felt tight and false on her face, and went to
kneel beside his chair. Her father had enough to trouble him without
knowing she worried too.
“I said I will
have some wine before I go to bed,” she said. “It makes me
sleepy, and I want to work on the new madrigal before I retire.”
Matthew gently
patted her cheek. “You work much too hard, Kate.”
“On the contrary,
Father.” Kate carefully lifted his leg onto a cushioned stool and
slid the slipper from his swollen foot. She reached for the basket
that held clean bandages and the jar of herbal salve. It sometimes
helped the ache. “I have to find things to do to distract me,
otherwise I am too idle.”
“It is very quiet
here, I know,” Matthew said sadly. He groaned as Kate unwound the
old bandages, but he let her do her nursing task. “Most unlike
when you were a child and we were with Queen Katherine Parr. But we
must not draw attention to ourselves. God willing, very soon…”
Very soon they
would once again be part of a queen’s household, that of
Queen Elizabeth, and life would be very busy indeed. But those
dangerous words could not be spoken aloud, despite the rumors that
sometimes flew to them from London. Queen Mary was ill—her
pregnancy had proved to be a phantom one with no child and a tumor
swelling her belly, and her Spanish husband, the hated King Philip,
had left her again to war with France. Her people were angry with
all the persecutions and burnings, the bad harvests and lack of work
and food.
But Mary was still
the monarch, and she would love nothing more than to see the end of
her troublesome half-sister. Kate’s father was right—they had to
be quiet and stay out of sight. For now.
“The princess
will surely want some sort of revel for Christmas,” Kate said. “We
could all use some holiday cheer, even if it must be of a small
nature.” Elizabeth’s allowance had been curtailed so much she
could barely feed and clothe her small household, let alone order
elaborate masques. “I want to have the new madrigals done before
then, and you must finish the church music you are working on.”
“I’m sure her
grace will appreciate the music very much,” Matthew said. “But
you still need your sleep.”
“I will sleep,
Father, I promise.”
“Good. Now, are
you quite done torturing me?”
Kate laughed and
tied off the ends of the fresh bandage. “I am. You can drink your
wine in peace.”
She kissed his
cheek and saw the gray that flecked his beard and his dark brown
hair, the same color as her own thick, heavy tresses. He had lost
weight of late, and his face was pale and creased, his green eyes,
also like hers in color, were rimmed with dark circles.
He did grow
older in their exile, and it pained her to see that. Her mother,
Eleanor Haywood, had died when she was born, and for all Kate's life
it had been only her father and herself, a cozy little family. He
had worked as a Court musician ever since he was a boy, and when Kate
was young he was appointed to the household of King Henry’s last
wife, Katherine Parr, a high and prestigious position where he also
came to know Princess Elizabeth.
Matthew taught Kate
his art and trade, and she loved music with all her heart. When she
sat down to create a new song, the sounds in her head drove away the
fears and dangers of the real world and lifted her up into her own,
secret place. One where she was free.
But there were some
things even music could not banish.
The wind suddenly
rattled violently at the window, making Kate jump. She hurried over
to secure the latch on the old glass, and a cold gust swept between
the cracks and tugged at her loose hair. For an instant, she saw her
own reflection there, her round face and wide green eyes fractured
and wavering, as though it was a ghost.
Kate laughed at her
silly fancy and reached for the old velvet drapery to drag it closed.
But then she saw something else, a flash in the kitchen gardens
outside. It was very late—surely no one had any errand out there
now? The cook and her maids would be asleep now. Kate peered closer
but could see nothing.
There was a knock
at the door, and Kate yanked the draperies shut to close out the
night and all its dangers. She had enough to concern her inside the
house without imagining garden ghosts.
“What can it be
at this hour?” her father grumbled. He reached for his walking
stick, but Kate hurried over to press him back down into his chair.
“I will go see
what it is, Father,” she said. “You finish your wine.”
It was Peg, one of
Princess Elizabeth’s serving maids, who stood outside the door.
Like Kate, Peg was still fully dressed, a shawl wrapped warmly over
her gray wool dress and her silvery hair straggling from its cap.
“Begging your
pardon, Mistress Haywood, but Her Grace cannot sleep.”
Kate nodded with a
sigh. This had been happening more and more of late, ever since the
princess returned from the Tower. Sleepless nights and bad dreams.
Only music seemed to help soothe her.
“I will go,”
Matthew said. Kate looked back to find him struggling to rise from
his chair.
“No, Father,”
she cried, and hurried over to press him back down again. “I can
go tonight. You need to stay off your feet and rest.”
Matthew looked as
if he was going to protest, but Kate grabbed up her faded and mended
cloak and her precious lute, which had once belonged to her mother,
and followed Peg into the corridor before he could say a word. She
needed the cloak whenever she wandered away from the fire at
Hatfield, the old halls were narrow and chilly. Wind whistled
through the windows and along the wooden floors.
At least it was
better than Woodstock, Kate thought as she and Peg dashed up the
stairs. That house, the first prison Queen Mary sent Elizabeth to
after the Tower, had literally been falling down around their ears.
Chunks of the roof would land at their feet as they walked in the
garden and rain would leak through into the rooms. Hatfield was a
smaller, more comfortable manor house of pretty red brick and many
chimneys, but it was still cold and lonely.
And the shadows
that seemed to lurk in the corners were just as fearsome. Torches
and candles were expensive and to be used sparingly. Nights were
dark and quiet.
But the princess’s
bedchamber glowed with light. Candles were set on every table and
atop every clothes chest, and lined up on the fireplace mantel. A
fire roared in the grate, and the draperies were drawn back to let in
the night’s meager moonlight. No shadows were allowed to lurk
there.
The bed, set up on
a dais and draped in faded red hangings, was turned back to reveal
the pale sheets and bolsters, but it was not occupied. Princess
Elizabeth paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, the furred
hem of her robe stirring the rushes scattered on the floor with every
turn. Her red-gold hair spilled down her back, and she held a book
in her long, elegant white hands even though it wasn’t open. Even
study couldn’t distract her tonight.
Two of her ladies
sat in the recessed window seat, also wearing bed robes over their
chemises, with their heads bent over sewing. One was Lady Pope, the
jailer’s wife and the new Mistress of the Robes since Elizabeth’s
faithful Kat Ashley, companion from her childhood, had been banished.
The Popes were the queen’s lackeys through and through, always
watching, watching, waiting for any small, fatal misstep. Lady Pope
looked most harried to be kept awake so late again.
The other was
Kate’s best friend at Hatfield, the young widow Penelope Bassett.
She glanced up from her sewing and gave Kate a quick, conspiratorial
smile. Her pretty, fashionably slanted, distinctive violet-blue eyes
seemed to laugh at some secret, as they always did, but she sat
quietly and decorously. She tucked a stray lock of blonde hair back
in her cap and went on with her embroidery.
Princess Elizabeth
swung toward Kate and Peg as the door clicked shut behind them. Her
dark eyes glittered in her pale, pointed face, as if from some fever,
and Kate knew it would be a long night. The princess’s vast energy
always burned bright, even pent up here in her rooms, and she could
outlast everyone.
“Kate, by God’s
wounds but I am glad you are here,” Elizabeth said. “This wind
is driving me mad. I need your music to drown out its moans and
sooth me to sleep.”
“Of course, Your
Grace,” Kate said. Her music was all she had to offer Elizabeth
for all the princess had done for the Haywoods. It was certainly
little enough, but Kate was glad if she could help at all.
Even if it meant
she got little sleep!
Elizabeth sat down
in the carved x-back chair close to the fire and drew the heavy folds
of her robe around her slender body. She gestured Kate to a stool
across from her, and Peg came to take the book from her hands.
Elizabeth tapped her long fingers on the wooden chair arms, a light,
constant pattering rhythm like rain. Her ring, a ruby surrounded by
pearls said to have once been her mother’s, flashed in the
firelight.
Kate tuned her
lute, her head bent low over the strings. “What would you like to
hear tonight, Your Highness? A lively volta or pavane to lift the
spirits?”
“Nay,”
Elizabeth answered. “I am in no dancing mood tonight. An old
ballad, I think. Something sweet and sad. Aye, that would suit the
mood.”
Kate feared “sweet
and sad” was the last thing they all needed on such a night. The
cold darkness seemed full of memories and longings, and old fears
just lurking around every corner.
But her music was
the princess’s to command. Kate lightly strummed a chord and
launched into one of the old songs of King Henry’s day, a tune her
father said had once been a favorite of Kate’s mother.
“Was I never yet
of your love grieved, nor never shall while that my life doth last;
but of hating myself, that day is past, and tears continual sore have
me wearied,” she sang.
And as she sang,
Kate fell down into the music and it was like diving deep into a
summer pool. All other sound was completely closed away. She didn’t
hear the wind or the whispers of the other ladies. Even her own
worries were gone. She knew only the song.
“I will not yet
in my grave be buried; nor on my tomb your name fixed fast, as cruel
cause that did the spirit soon haste from the unhappy bones, by great
sighs stirred…”
Kate glanced up to
see Princess Elizabeth had ceased tapping on the chair. She sat
perfectly still, her head turned to stare into the fire. Her white
profile was sharply etched against the bright flames. The corner of
her thin, pink lips quirked in a slight smile. The music worked its
magic again, and peace slowly descended on Hatfield House like a
soft, gray cloud obscuring the ugly world outside.
Until a crashing
sound in the corridor outside tore that fragile peace asunder.
Kate’s fingers
faltered on the lute strings and the princess sat up straight in her
chair. Her hands tightened on the chair arms, and she looked to the
door like a tense bird ready to take flight. A woman screamed, and
Penelope dropped her sewing to the floor.
A thunderbeat of
footsteps rang on the wooden floor outside and someone pounded on the
door. Even Lady Pope turned pale.
“Lady Elizabeth!”
a man shouted hoarsely. “Open this door at once.”
“Her Grace has
retired for the night,” a maidservant’s nervous voice said.
“I care naught
for that,” the man answered, still shouting despite the quiet of
the house. “I come from the queen, and I will see the Lady
Elizabeth at once, even if she’s naked in her bed.”
The queen!
Kate clutched at her lute, feeling her hands shake and turn suddenly
icy cold. This could mean only ill.
Elizabeth slowly
rose to her feet. Her face had gone even whiter, but she was as
still and calm as a statue.
“Peg, would you
open the door, please?” she said softly.
“Are you sure,
Your Grace?” Peg asked. “It is very late…”
“You heard the
man. We must not keep my sister’s emissary waiting,” Elizabeth
said, as the barrage of knocks went on pounding at the door. “No
matter how unexpected he might be.”
Peg swallowed hard
and nodded. Kate saw that she shook as if in a hard wind as she made
her way slowly to the door. Peg drew it open and a giant of a man in
a swirling black travel cloak pushed past her. He glared at them
above his tangled black beard, taking in the warm, domestic scene
with one contemptuous glance. Mud and wet leaves trailed onto the
floor in his wake, making Lady Pope, always a careful housekeeper,
wince.
But Elizabeth
refused to back away. She glared in return, equally contemptuous of
such rude behavior. “I trust my sister is well?” she said.
“Surely there is not some crisis in London that requires my
attention at such an ungodly late hour, sir. I fear we are little
accustomed to receiving guests and are ill-prepared.”
The man gave a
snort. He tugged off his dirty black leather gauntlets and slapped
them against his palm. The loud sound made Kate flinch, but
Elizabeth moved not at all.
“I am Lord
Braceton, sent by Her Majesty to examine this household,” he said.
“And I was greeted in your lane by a murderous villain, whose
cowardly attack has left my manservant dead…”
Labels:
Excerpts,
Murder at Hatfield House
Saturday, October 05, 2013
Elizabethan Week, Day Six: Heroine of the Weekend
For our heroine this weekend, I had to look to the Elizabethan era, which is chock-full of strong, inspirational women! I used many of them in my research and my Kate Haywood novels (trying to weave as many of them as possible into the stories), and one that I found really fascinating (and very elusive) was Emilia (or Amelia) Lanier (1569-1645). Since Kate is a musician at the queen's court, I've been reading everything I can find about music in the Tudor period. The Bassano family of Venice held high places in the queen's musical consort, and Emilia was one of them. She was also (perhaps) the Dark Lady of Shakespeare's poems, and one of the first female professional poets in her own right.
Emilia was born the daughter of court musician Baptiste Bassano, baptized at the church of St. Botolph's, Bishopsgate, on January 27, 1569. Her father died in 1576, and she was sent to be educated in the household of the Countess of Kent, where she learned Latin among other subjects. Once launched into the world, she became the mistress of one of the most powerful men at court, the queen's cousin Henry Carey, Baron Hunsdon, a patron of the arts (he was the Lord Chamberlain in the Lord Chamberlain's Men, where Shakespeare got his start). He was also 45 years older than her. When she became pregnant in 1592, she was married off to her cousin, Alfonso Lanier, a musician at the royal court, who claimed her son Henry as his own (though the marriage was said to be unhappy in the long run!). According to the diaries of astrologer Simon Forman (who may have made a pass at Emilia and was rejected, so his gossip should always be taken a bit doubtfully!), "...and a nobleman that is ded hath Loved her well & kept her and did maintain her longe but her husband hath delte hardly with her and spent and consumed her goods and she is nowe...in debt."
She became one of the first Englishwomen to publish her own work in 1611, with her volume of poems Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum, considered radically feminist for the era. Her husband died in 1613, and little is known of her from 1619-35. She sued her brother-in-law, and may have run a school. She died in 1645.
For more about the Dark Lady controversy....
Was Shakespeare a Woman?
Some good sources for the history of Emilia and music in this era:
Kari Boyd McBride, Biography of Aemilia Lanier (2008)
David Lasocki, The Bassanos: Venetian Musicians and Instrument Makers in England, 1531-1685 (1995)
Emilia was born the daughter of court musician Baptiste Bassano, baptized at the church of St. Botolph's, Bishopsgate, on January 27, 1569. Her father died in 1576, and she was sent to be educated in the household of the Countess of Kent, where she learned Latin among other subjects. Once launched into the world, she became the mistress of one of the most powerful men at court, the queen's cousin Henry Carey, Baron Hunsdon, a patron of the arts (he was the Lord Chamberlain in the Lord Chamberlain's Men, where Shakespeare got his start). He was also 45 years older than her. When she became pregnant in 1592, she was married off to her cousin, Alfonso Lanier, a musician at the royal court, who claimed her son Henry as his own (though the marriage was said to be unhappy in the long run!). According to the diaries of astrologer Simon Forman (who may have made a pass at Emilia and was rejected, so his gossip should always be taken a bit doubtfully!), "...and a nobleman that is ded hath Loved her well & kept her and did maintain her longe but her husband hath delte hardly with her and spent and consumed her goods and she is nowe...in debt."
She became one of the first Englishwomen to publish her own work in 1611, with her volume of poems Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum, considered radically feminist for the era. Her husband died in 1613, and little is known of her from 1619-35. She sued her brother-in-law, and may have run a school. She died in 1645.
For more about the Dark Lady controversy....
Was Shakespeare a Woman?
Some good sources for the history of Emilia and music in this era:
Kari Boyd McBride, Biography of Aemilia Lanier (2008)
David Lasocki, The Bassanos: Venetian Musicians and Instrument Makers in England, 1531-1685 (1995)
Labels:
Amelia Lanier,
Heroine of the Weekend,
Music
Friday, October 04, 2013
Elizabethan Week, Day Five: Friday Fantasy Real Estate
Every Friday, I waste time, er, do Important Research, searching out fantasy houses I would love to live in. For Elizabethan Week, in order to make all our Tudor fantasies come true, I found St. Clere's Hall! A Grade I Listed house, it was mostly built between 1340-60 but includes Tudor additions (including a library from 1500!), a moat, a stable, and 18 acres. What do you think?? Would we have to wear our ruffs if we lived here?
Listing here
Listing here
Thursday, October 03, 2013
Elizabethan Week, Day Four: Secondary Characters
One of the most fun parts of writing historical fiction (for me, anyway!) is finding ways to weave real events and real people into the stories. I am a history geek, and have been ever since I was a kid, so stepping into a library and diving into a pile of research books is a raucously fun day to me!! They start to really come alive for me when I "see" them in the middle of my own world...
Book two of the Kate Haywood series (Murder at Westminster Abbey, out in April 2014!) centers around Queen Elizabeth's coronation, so it involves lots of historical figures--Robert Dudley, Lady Catherine Grey and her mother Frances, Duchess of Suffolk, the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk, etc. Book one, Murder at Hatfield House, is set in a quieter place, with everyone keeping their heads down in the dangerous, dark last days of Queen Mary, waiting to see what will happen next. There aren't many "real" characters (though I would count Queen Mary among them--she never makes an appearance, but she is in the middle of everyone's thoughts!). Here are a few people I did use:
--Jane Dormer, future Duchess of Feria (1538-1612), a lady-in-waiting to Queen Mary, beautiful, betrothed to a Spanish count, future center of the Catholic English opposition abroad. She only makes a brief appearance here, but her arrival at Hatfield signals that things are about to change in a major way....
--Her fiance, the Duke of Feria (1520-71), King Philip's ambassador to England until 1559. He does make an appearance in the story, a dinner at Brocket Hall, the home of Elizabeth's friend--an event that actually occurred!
--At the end we see William Cecil and Kat Ashley, Elizabeth's chief secretary and lady-in-waiting respectively, who had both already served her for many years! We'll see more of them in book 2....
Book two of the Kate Haywood series (Murder at Westminster Abbey, out in April 2014!) centers around Queen Elizabeth's coronation, so it involves lots of historical figures--Robert Dudley, Lady Catherine Grey and her mother Frances, Duchess of Suffolk, the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk, etc. Book one, Murder at Hatfield House, is set in a quieter place, with everyone keeping their heads down in the dangerous, dark last days of Queen Mary, waiting to see what will happen next. There aren't many "real" characters (though I would count Queen Mary among them--she never makes an appearance, but she is in the middle of everyone's thoughts!). Here are a few people I did use:
--Jane Dormer, future Duchess of Feria (1538-1612), a lady-in-waiting to Queen Mary, beautiful, betrothed to a Spanish count, future center of the Catholic English opposition abroad. She only makes a brief appearance here, but her arrival at Hatfield signals that things are about to change in a major way....
--Her fiance, the Duke of Feria (1520-71), King Philip's ambassador to England until 1559. He does make an appearance in the story, a dinner at Brocket Hall, the home of Elizabeth's friend--an event that actually occurred!
--At the end we see William Cecil and Kat Ashley, Elizabeth's chief secretary and lady-in-waiting respectively, who had both already served her for many years! We'll see more of them in book 2....
Labels:
Elizabethan Week,
Research
Wednesday, October 02, 2013
Elizabethan Week, Day Three: Palaces
If I listed all the Tudor-era palaces and castles, I think we would be here all day!! There are so many, each with their own fascinating history and legends. So I will stick to places I've actually used so far in my Kate Haywood books, with links where they're available. (A great source for these places is Simon Thurley's The Royal Palaces of Tudor England. I also keep lots of pics on my Pinterest boards for the mysteries--I am a Pinterest addict!)
First up: Hatfield House, where Elizabeth lived most of the time as a princess! (There is only a smallish section of her house left, called Hatfield Old House, but the newer palace, built by the Burghleys in the next century, is also worth a look!)
Link to Hatfield House
The Tower! (I love visiting The Tower, even though I always get a creepy, shivery feeling when I'm there, and am sometimes prone to crying just a little bit. I freaked my mom out the first time she went there with me, when i started crying over things that happened in 1536...)
The Tower of London site
Whitehall! Of course, the massive complex of Tudor times is almost completely gone, except for the Banqueting Hall and a few archaeological remains...
Whitehall Site
Hampton Court (I love visiting Hampton Court!! It just "feels" so Tudor, and I am a sucker for costumed tour guides. I dream of being able to attend one of their banquets or jousts someday. I am also hoping for a tiny glimpse of Katherine Howard's ghost...)
Hampton Court
Westminster Palace & Abbey
This is the Great Hall where coronation banquets took place (I loved writing about the lavish coronation festivities for book two, Murder at Westminster Abbey!)
Westminster Abbey
And the book I am working on now takes place at the long-gone Nonsuch Palace!
The Wikipedia entry for Nonsuch...
Which is your favorite?? Do you have any good palace-visiting stories???
First up: Hatfield House, where Elizabeth lived most of the time as a princess! (There is only a smallish section of her house left, called Hatfield Old House, but the newer palace, built by the Burghleys in the next century, is also worth a look!)
Link to Hatfield House
The Tower! (I love visiting The Tower, even though I always get a creepy, shivery feeling when I'm there, and am sometimes prone to crying just a little bit. I freaked my mom out the first time she went there with me, when i started crying over things that happened in 1536...)
The Tower of London site
Whitehall! Of course, the massive complex of Tudor times is almost completely gone, except for the Banqueting Hall and a few archaeological remains...
Whitehall Site
Hampton Court (I love visiting Hampton Court!! It just "feels" so Tudor, and I am a sucker for costumed tour guides. I dream of being able to attend one of their banquets or jousts someday. I am also hoping for a tiny glimpse of Katherine Howard's ghost...)
Hampton Court
Westminster Palace & Abbey
This is the Great Hall where coronation banquets took place (I loved writing about the lavish coronation festivities for book two, Murder at Westminster Abbey!)
Westminster Abbey
And the book I am working on now takes place at the long-gone Nonsuch Palace!
The Wikipedia entry for Nonsuch...
Which is your favorite?? Do you have any good palace-visiting stories???
Labels:
Elizabethan Week,
Palaces
Tuesday, October 01, 2013
Elizabethan Week Day Two: Elizabeth on Film
Welcome to Elizabethan Week, Day Two! I am celebrating my favorite historical era all week to mark the release of my first Ekizabethan Mystery, Murder at Hatfield House!!! (Out today! See it here on Amazon...) Elizabeth here is very happy about it. :)
Today we're going to take a look at various actresses who have taken on the Herculean task of embodying the queen on film. There are a LOT of them, so let's get started!
Elizabeth Number One: Cate Blanchett (the younger and the older...)
Helen Mirren
Anne-Marie Duff
Glenda Jackson
Bette Davis
Flora Robson
Judy Dench
Who is your favorite Elizabeth???? (when I'm working on the mystery series, since it's set in the late 1550s, I see Cate Blanchett in my mind most of the time...)
Today we're going to take a look at various actresses who have taken on the Herculean task of embodying the queen on film. There are a LOT of them, so let's get started!
Elizabeth Number One: Cate Blanchett (the younger and the older...)
Helen Mirren
Anne-Marie Duff
Glenda Jackson
Bette Davis
Flora Robson
Judy Dench
Who is your favorite Elizabeth???? (when I'm working on the mystery series, since it's set in the late 1550s, I see Cate Blanchett in my mind most of the time...)
Labels:
Cate Blanchett,
Elizabethan Week,
Film Elizabeths
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