Book Update~ Chapter Two Already!

As the title stated, this is an update (hopefully the first of many) on my book, Greyfield Flowers. As the title also said, I am already on chapter two! This makes me more than simply happy, this makes me ecstatic with joy and delight. :)

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Now… I feel like posting an excerpt, just to show that I have been writing. I’ll also post some links to a few of the more helpful websites I have been using in my research. If you have any more, especially on the dos and don’ts of social behavior. :) Thanks!

Oh! And before I post this excerpt, I have to say that I already know that there isn’t a lot of dialogue. It’s like that on purpose. They haven’t met each other yet in this bit, and an underlying theme for the book requires that most of the dialogue be between them, or at least after they have met they each begin to talk more. Anyway, enjoy!

Tristan Christopher Holcott, Earl of Greyfield and lord of all it possessed, was at a loss for words. He held a letter in his hands, a letter of acceptance from a man he barely knew in response to an invitation given on a whim. It was rather absurd, when one thought about it. An acquaintance of his that he had met at his gentleman’s club had talked to him for one afternoon. One afternoon. And yet somehow during those three hours William Mauntell had managed to extract from Tristan an invitation for his sister to attend the house party.

Apparently Lord Mauntell’s sister had been a dear friend of his sister Margaret’s during the season two years previous. And so, William had managed to drop a subtle hint or two that Tristan’s sister might enjoy a renewal of the friendship they had established once. Like any caring or decent brother, Tristan had offered an invitation to William’s sister to join them all for the holidays. A sister, he had later found out, who was named Colette Harmony Mauntell.

    The name alone denoted for itself a lady of grand beauty and yet no intelligence to speak of. He could no longer name all of the women exactly like her who had pursued him since he had inherited his late father’s title, and before then. It was tiring enough to rebuff them in Town during the season, but now to have one hanging around his own home, over the holidays of all things! It was hardly to be accounted for. And yet, it appeared there was nothing to be done. She was coming, and rather rapidly at that. Somehow her brother had sent his sister and her chaperone far too early–a little more than a week before the other guests were set to arrive. It was uncalled for and would cause more than a small scandal, and yet by the time his letter arrived there was nothing for it but to ready a room for her. Any letter he sent in reply would arrive far too late to be of any use to anybody.

    He held the letter William had sent in his hands now. His face was a stony mask of immutable politeness, but by no means exuded a welcoming air. Why should it, after all? She was uninvited, unwanted and in all likeliness would make his very existence miserable. He had questioned his sister Margaret later about this ‘Colette’ and had been sorely disappointed. She admitted to knowing the girl, but not very well. And they had never seen each other since the season two years ago. He wished that for once the members of the ton would show a bit of true decorum and civility in their behavior, rather than weaseling invitations for their sister to house parties. They never did.

He tapped the folded letter against his hands once, twice before tossing it down to a nearby table. A deep sigh of capitulation escaped from the confines of his mouth without his permission and he scolded himself lightly. He was never one to give in, but William Mauntell had the uncanny ability to get what he wanted without seeming to try. The invitation had been offered before he even could know what he was doing, and it was his responsibility now to wade through this increasingly growing mayhem.

    “If you prefer, my lord, I can have a platter made up for you and have it sent to the library. You could wait there for the arrival of your new houseguest.” Ah. That would be his man, Martin. Always one to suggest an alternative–although the slight hesitation in his voice when he spoke the word ‘houseguest’ bespoke volumes about his thoughts on his latest problem. Martin had a way of communicating his feelings on any particular subject without so much as a word to indicate them. It was one of the reasons Tristan had taken him on–the accomplished butler was efficient in his duties, knew his place, and yet Tristan could somehow see that he wasn’t afraid of Tristan’s grand rank or wealth. He also had a decent brain in his head, which accounted for quite a lot of Tristan’s good opinion.

    “No, Martin. I had better stay here and await the inevitable. No use in having to traipse all the way back after having just arrived.” The library was in the wing of the house directly opposite of the drawing room he now occupied, overlooking the back terraces and peaceful grounds rather than the drive up the front lawn. And Miss Mauntell was due to arrive at any time, if Lord Manning’s letter was to be believed. Part of him, a very large part, wished that it wasn’t. How had he been so easily persuaded?

    The muffled sounds of horses and carriage coming up the drive returned Tristan’s attention once more to the problem at hand as he watched a town coach roll up the drive and approach Greyfield Hall. That was, no doubt, the much awaited Miss Colette Mauntell. Her abigail had arrived two days ago, as the letter had promised–and now the woman herself had arrived.

    “Odious woman,” he mumbled under his breath as he turned away from the window at which he had stood, awaiting her arrival. “Entirely uncalled for.”

And that’s that! The first page and a half of the second chapter! And now the links!

http://www.eclectics.com/allisonlane/common_regency_errors.html

http://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/

http://www.regencyhistory.net/

http://www.waynesthisandthat.com/servantwages.htm

 

And now that this post is waaaaayy long, I suppose I’ll end it. With this saying that I found online. :)

Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works.

~Virginia Woolf

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/v/virginiawo165037.html#OBkMo8E4iXqSjhYk.99

 

And again, Happy 4th of July!

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