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Valentine’s Day Lottery

In researching my scene for The Truth About Lord Stoneville, I found the most interesting Regency-era Valentine’s Day tradition: a lottery (I used it in the book, too). On Valentine’s Day evening, young people would draw names out of a hat to discover who would be their valentine for the coming year. It was supposed to be a predictor of matrimony. I did have some trouble understanding the logistics, since everyone drew a name. What if Mary drew George’s name, while George drew Joan’s? I wasn’t quite sure how that worked, so I . . . er . . . altered it a little. Call it poetic license, if you will. I still think it sounds like fun . . . unless, of course, you don’t draw the person’s name you want for a valentine.

Calendar Houses

Halstead Hall is inspired by Knole in Kent. Both are calendar houses, which means their elements come in numbers you’d find in a calendar. Knole has 365 rooms, 52 staircases, 12 entrances, and 7 courtyards. How does an owner even keep track of 365 rooms? Knole was once a palace, and many of its 17th century elements and furnishings have been preserved, which is understandable. While all the other lords were fixing up their grand country houses in the 18th and 19th centuries, I’m sure the lords who lived in Knole (there were several) couldn’t face the daunting task of renovating such a huge mansion! Anyway, I have pics of Knole on my Pinterest page for Hellions of Halstead Hall, if you’d like to see it. Or, since the National Trust now owns the place, you can go here to get a brief history and see some pics. Meanwhile, below are some lovely paintings of the house from the Victorian period.

New Orleans Creole

You may not know this but my husband is a New Orleans Creole, with his family going back more than two hundred years in Louisiana. One of his ancestors is Bernard de Marigny, who lived in New Orleans during our beloved Regency period in England. A wealthy Creole landowner, Bernard had so many offspring by his mistresses that he named a street “Good children” (Rue Des Bon Enfants, later changed to St. Claude). He also invented craps, the dice game, which is based largely on hazard, the British dice game, which he learned while spending time in England. But my husband has the only blue blood in our family, I’m afraid. I’m a mutt with Cajun, Irish, and English (or possibly Welsh) blood, and who knows what else!

Ballads

This has nothing to do with lipedema, but What Happens in the Ballroom (presently available on Kindle Unlimited, among other retail spots) has a scene where widow Eliza Harper Pierce sings several songs to entertain an audience. One of those, “The Suffolk Miracle,” is a ballad that Eliza uses to torment her papa (also in the audience) about a father who disapproves of his daughter marrying a man of a lower station. You can read the lyrics here, but I chose it by accident while looking for the ballad, “The Holland Handkerchief,” which I have on my folk albums. The two tell a nearly identical story, but “The Suffolk Miracle” is the title Eliza is likely to have heard for it. I happen to love ballads, and I learned long ago that most period ballads have multiple renditions, with variations in wording, title, and even ending. I only wish there was a version for this one with a happy ending!

Foods of England

Accidentally His is my foodie book, if there ever was one. After all, food is Verity’s life. In the process of researching, I’ve discovered this wonderful site called The Foods of England Project, which contains 60 out-of-print historical cookbooks, and thousands of recipes and dishes, with their histories. One of the dishes I used for the book is Mussel and Onion Stew, which is Rafe’s favorite. It comes from the West Country, which is where Rafe grew up and Verity’s father still lives. I’m not fond of mussels myself (which is odd, because I like just about every other shellfish), but I stumbled across the recipe and thought it might be fun to include. And there’s Duke’s Custard at the end of the book! (Literally—it shows up in the epilogue, but I call it trifle because that’s really what it is.) Now, that’s one I’d love to try.

May Day: Jack-in-the-Green

You may have scratched your head at the part of Eliza’s book about the Jack in the Green. It’s not as commonly known a May Day custom as the maypole, for example, but it does play a part in the festivities. Primarily for chimney sweeps, it was part of the usual May Day processions: The sweeps dressed up like bushes or trees (!!) and danced (or staggered, depending on their degree of drunkenness) down the street. Apparently, May Day was sometimes called Chimney Sweepers’ Day. I have no idea why. But here’s a fun picture of a Jack-in-the-Green and his drunken companions (colorized by the print owner).

Jack in the Green certainly does seem appropriate for celebrations of the coming of spring. You can read more about the custom here.

Harp-Lute

If you haven’t heard of a harp-lute, that’s because it was invented by Edward Light in 1795 and was briefly a sort of fad among young ladies in the Regency. Regency ladies liked it because they could accompany their singing with it. Once the piano replaced it as the instrument of choice for that, the harp-lute fell out of favor. There is still interest in it as part of the development of the guitar, though, and you can find a host of images here. Here’s an image of one in the Metropolitan Museum.

Apple Games

When I think of autumn and the Regency, I think of harvest fairs and harvest balls, brisk October winds, and lots of apples. But did you know that bobbing for apples was another of those romantic games where future romance was predicted? I didn’t, until I read this entertaining and thorough article about the origins of Halloween. Apparently, one variation was played the same way as it is now, except that names were carved into the apples so that whichever name was on the apple you seized was that of your future true love. Fortunately, the variation called “Snap-apple,” where a player had to seize the apple while it swung around on a pole with a burning candle at the other end of the pole, died out, or we’d not be enjoying trying to grab those apples quite so much!

Bartholomew Fair

Although some fairs had started to die out, some still provided popular entertainment in the Regency. You may have heard of Bartholomew Fair, which took place in London in September, or Scarborough Fair, which occurred in Scarborough, Yorkshire, around the same time (although it closed for good in 1788). Both were among a group of several “charter” fairs, established by Royal charter centuries before our period. Like most of them, they combined sales of things like cloth, rugs, or farm tools with entertainment like games, puppets, acrobats, rides, and dancing. You can see the swings in the image below. A few fairs still go on! So we’ll try to replicate one at the Historical Romance Retreat.

New Year’s Superstition

Why must I not bitch and moan about my back and neck pain? Because a big superstition connected to New Year’s Day in Regency England was that whatever you did on New Year’s Day, you were doomed to repeat for the entire year. Our Regency foremothers would particularly suggest that you avoid cleaning your house (you might sweep out your good luck, not to mention having to spend the coming year sweeping), getting into debt, leaving your cupboards bare (which might foretell poverty in the new year), and crying (which means you’ll be sad all year—duh!). Definitely do kiss your beloved (well, that one is probably more modern). And be sure to open your doors and windows just before midnight to let out the old year and beckon in the new one.