Looking Back, Looking Forward

Hi! I hope you’ve enjoyed the Austen Variation posts on ‘January 2021 Retrospective and Prospective’. The ‘looking back’ part of my post is going to be pretty short, mostly because I’ve spent most of 2020 looking back and thinking of the times when we were free to roam, meet, hug, chat and have tea and scones at some of our favourite places.

I’ve been looking at old photos for most of the year, both for inspiration and as a ‘head in the sand’ or a ‘hiding under the bonnet’ kind of thing.

Somehow, with everything that was going on, I didn’t felt like writing one of my usual angsty novels until later in the year, so the one I published in 2020 (A Timely Elopement) was short, cheerful and cutting to the chase: what if something came to stop Mr Darcy from making his appalling first proposal, and Elizabeth had the chance to spend more time with him early on, and get to know him better?

The story was written mostly at night, or rather in the very early hours of the morning. I’ve always been a night owl, but the 2020 MO kept revolving around a 3.30 am start, so that I’d get some writing done before the normal hours, when my family had their school lessons on Zoom and their business meetings.

And now it’s 2021 and the MO is still the same (no surprise there, we’re still in lockdown). The only difference is that I’m once again excited about writing angsty novels. Well, sort of angsty. In my current WIP, some of the rubbish is cleared out of the way very early in the story. Wickham, for instance. Elizabeth learns very soon just what a toerag he is. Also, she discovers soon enough that she is no stranger to the odd feeling of butterflies fluttering in her stomach on account of Mr Darcy.

Our dear characters have their issues (but of course 😀 ). I shouldn’t be surprised if you’ll want to bang their heads together at some point or another. But I’m sticking to a promise I made: that I’ll balance the angst with many sweet moments and plenty of besottedness (you coined such a perfect word, Glynis! I love it!!).

Right, I’ll stop teasing now and I’ll come back with more later. I still have a few chapters to write, and I’m still stuck with imaginary travel. But thank goodness for Google Street-view and Wikimedia Commons, and huge thanks to Hazel Mills, to whom I owe some very happy days around Christmas, when I was planning Mr and Mrs Darcy’s route to Pemberley and looking for the best stops on their wedding tour.

Magically, two perfect inns popped on my radar: the Swan in Bedford and the Angel in Grantham. Both of them existed at the time. Of course, all this begs the question ‘What does it matter if the inns are real or not?’ The short answer is that it doesn’t. The long answer is that I’m obsessed and I would like to think that Darcy and Elizabeth were real people (La-la-la, they were, of course they were!) so it would be nice if the inns that feature in the story were real too.

The Swan was designed by Henry Holland, a very successful and much sought-after architect, and was completed by 1796. The Angel, now the Angel and Royal, has been in operation since 1203 and has been visited by royalty.

Beautiful, both of them, and likely to be chosen by a diligent and thoughtful Mr Darcy when he plans the journey with great care, so as to give his rushed marriage a good start. So I thought that our dear couple might stop at both those inns. (I really wanted them to get to Pemberley sooner, but Hazel made me see that one overnight stop just wouldn’t have been enough at that time of year).

Here comes a very short peek at overnight stop #1. Then please don your bonnets, forget about the en-suite and the Wi-Fi and tell me, if you were a Regency lady, what would be your idea of a good inn? What comforts would you have liked to find there, apart from your very own Mr Darcy next door, and a flower on your pillow?

Excerpt from my 2021 WIP

(The title is a work-in-progress too)

The bedchamber that would be hers for the night was ludicrously large, to Elizabeth’s way of thinking – and so was the bed. An expanse of pristine white, against which the vibrant splash of colour was all the more eye-catching: a camellia placed on the nearest pillow, its petals dark-pink and velvety.

Source: Pixabay

Sarah had left it where it was when she had turned down the counterpane, once she had assisted her in changing for the night. And then the dear soul had dropped a hurried curtsy and, with an awkward smile, had mumbled, “Sleep well, ma’am,” and vanished, little knowing that her newly married mistress was to sleep alone. That this was to be a wedding night like no other.

The best part of an hour later, as she sat warming herself before the cheery fire, Elizabeth had yet to ascertain her own feelings on the matter. Relief might have been the sensible response, but by the looks of it she had bidden adieu to her famed common sense, for she felt no measure of relief.

With a little huff, Elizabeth uncurled herself out of her snug spot in the armchair by the fire and stood. She might as well go to bed, even if sleep was likely to elude her. A pity that she had not packed a book into her trunk. That might have taken her mind off bittersweet thoughts of home and all manner of unanswerable questions. But then she made a little moue that was both wry and sheepish. Who would have imagined that she should supply herself with reading matter for her wedding night?

She carefully banked the fire, then put out the candles – all but the one on the bedside table – then draped a shawl around her shoulders and ambled towards the bay window. She parted the curtains by a fraction and peeked out, deciding that the river must make for a majestic sight in daylight. At this time of night, all she could distinguish was the outline of the trees on the opposite bank and, to her right, the vast bulk of the bridge, now free of the earlier throng of carts and carriages, just one solitary figure walking across, barely visible in the faint glow of the oil lamps.

Elizabeth gave a little sigh and let the curtain drop. Unerringly, and with no little frustration, her thoughts circled back to the conundrum that was her husband and his notable absence. A thoughtful gesture, to give her time to grow accustomed to this new life? She grimaced. He might have taken the trouble to ask her if this was what she wanted.

She walked to the bed and reached out for the rose-coloured camellia left on the pillow. Cradling the bloom in the palm of her hand, she examined it from one angle, then another, as though the answers to her mystifying questions were hidden among the petals. And then she set it down alongside the candlestick on the bedside table, divested herself of her shawl and dressing gown, blew out the candle and slipped into bed.

The sheets were crisp and cold, but pleasantly scented with lavender. Elizabeth tucked the corner of the counterpane under her chin and, as was her wont, methodically worked to empty her mind of fruitless speculations and let the morrow look after itself.

Her tried and tested method was successful. And dreamless sleep was her reward.

(WIP Excerpt © 2021 Joana Starnes)

Sources – Own photos; candlestick and camelia image derived from artwork by James DeMers and Beverly Buckley from Pixabay; the Swan Hotel  and  the Angel and Royal from:

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Swan-Hotel-Bedford-20050921-008.jpg (This file is made available by the author, Gary Houston, under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication)

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Angel_and_Royal_Hotel,_Grantham,_front_elevation.jpeg (This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license. Attribution: © Richard Croft). https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7387195