Skip to content

Susanna Ives | My Floating World

“Turning our attention to the pleasures of the moon, the snow, and the cherry blossoms.” – A Tale Of A Floating World, 1665

  • Home
  • My Floating World Blog
  • My Books
  • Table Of Contents
  • About Me
  • Newsletter
  • Search

Category: Historic Social Issues

Posted on April 19, 2024April 20, 2024

The Fallen Regency Woman

Portrait de Juliette Récamier - François Gérard

A few weeks ago, I dug through many old books and journals, searching for a potential blog post, something that lit up my mind. I found nothing, which usually happens when I go looking. Most of my blog posts are things I happen upon. However, that night, my brain, working like a busy spider, weaved several articles together, and I woke up with a post idea: The Regency Fallen Woman. So, let’s follow this theme through several Regency-era texts.

I begin with a work by Lady Mary Clarke Champion de Crespigny to her teenage son, Letters of Advice from a Mother to Her Son, published in 1803. In my book Wicked, My Love, (<–buy this historical rom-com and support my site.) the heroine, Isabella, writes a straightforward book about investing, which her cousin Judith secretly embellishes with melodramatic tales of woe and ruin before sending it to the publisher. Champion de Crespigny could be Cousin Judith. It’s been over 200 years, yet I’m embarrassed for her son. I wonder if I should author a story about a man so mortified by his mother’s book about him that he is determined to find every copy and destroy it. Hmmm, who could the heroine be? … I digress (as usual).

I know the propensities and vanities of your sex as well as those of my own and I would not flatter those of the one, or conceal those of the other, when endeavouring to investigate the subject for the advantage of a much-beloved son and, I really think, that all the imputed arts and designs of women are not so contemptible as the abominable practice of duplicity which numbers of men are guilty of, in leading an amiable interesting woman, and such will be the most easily led, to believe them sincerely and seriously attached to her, when in reality they only mean to flatter their own vanity or self-importance indifferent to all the consequences their insincerity may give rise to.

Mary Champion de Crespigny

Despicable creatures! – were you ever to be of their number, I am sure you would not only incur my resentment but my contempt. But there is a situation in which, were you to be entangled, would particularly wound my feelings; — I trust that you will never suffer yourself to be drawn into it and that I have only occasion to mention my disgust towards it, as a natural sentiment, not as deeming it necessary to guard you against it.

What I mean is the becoming strongly attached to a woman whom you do not choose to marry, living with her, and having a family by her; having a family who would have a right to reproach you for having brought them into a situation in which they must feel continual mortification from the moment they have sufficient powers of reflection.

That a man who acts thus may have many good qualities and calculated for domestic society, there, perhaps, is not any doubt; ́should such a man unwisely form a connection of this nature, the good feelings of his heart, affection, honour, constancy, and pity, prohibit his renouncing the woman, who, perhaps, owes her degradation solely to her affection for him. But, in consequence of the effect such sentiments should have upon his mind, he must have continual pangs, continual remorse, and repentance, when he sees the woman he best loves rendered by himself an object of contempt; scorned, perhaps, by those who do not in reality possess half her merits, shut out from any society with her own sex, except with such of them as, notwithstanding her fallen state, she must from inclination and disgust avoid : in consequence of this he must share her banishment, or renounce her society. And, however indifferent they may both be to the mixed society of the world, there is something in knowing that they cannot obtain it, which makes it more desireable, and, in some dispositions, would be like a gnawing worm at the heart, an eternal cause of misery.

La Tendresse Conjugale Louis-Léopold Boilly
La Tendresse Conjugale -Louis-Léopold Boilly

Then the children – how much are they to be pitied! The unfortunate mother, precluded herself from all good society, is necessarily prevented from giving them any introduction to it. The daughters, particularly if they live with her, would find it difficult to procure such introduction the consequences are but by any means; too obvious; they would be, at best, though, perhaps, in many respects accomplished, but half-educated, half-fashioned, and, probably, half-principled and would too surely be apt to blend contempt in their estimation of those characters to whom, by nature, they owe duty and respect.

The sons must likewise be liable to the continual mortification of having their best feelings very often hurt when they consider themselves precluded from the honours they would otherwise have been entitled to from their father see that father condemned by the world- their mother unnoticed their sisters slighted – and the domestic happiness of the family frequently interrupted, if not destroyed.

I own to you that, when a man has unfortunately formed such a connection, and has, in the situation I have described, lived many years with a woman, from whom he has not an idea of parting, and by whom he has a family, I am surprised that he does not marry her. Pride alone must be the obstacle:-it is a great mistake; he may not like that the world should say that man’s wife was his mistress but it is much worse to have it said the mother of that man’s children is his mistress the one never can, the other may, be received.

The Capricious Child (L’enfant capricieux) by Marguerite Gérard

Perhaps, such a man does not choose to have some very inferior person call him son or brother; it is, however, less exceptionable than the appellations his own heart must give him, and the inconvenience no greater. He would not be compelled to be more in the society of his new relations, nor would his children be more nearly related to them such reasons, therefore, are the offspring of false pride; and, while such a man continues living at open war with the regulations of society, he is much more reprehensible, and, in truth, an infinitely less respectable character, than if, from principle, he endeavoured to make all the reparation in his power to the individual he has wronged, and the society he has insulted. By degrees he would see the good consequences of his entended conduct, in making the woman he loves far more respectable, not only in the eyes of the world, but in those of her family, and even in her own: – which could not fail of giving a very proper gratification to his own feelings, and of adding considerably to his domestic comfort.

I must, however, explain to you that I do not mean, by what I have just been urging, to recommend men in general to marry their mistresses; very, very, far from that is my intention, but, under the particular and interesting circumstances I have just now described, and only under such, I not only think that step may be justifiable, but wise and laudable.

Should there, however, be a probability that an after offspring may be born, which from being legitimate would rob all the others, though of the same parents, and introduce discontent, envy, and discord, in the family; in that case, the marriage I have been recommending would be very improper, and productive of much evil instead of good.

The many fatal consequences which almost certainly attend a connection of this sort, independent of its immorality, will, I trust, make a proper impression upon your mind; and, the subject will lead me … to discuss the horrid vice of seduction.

Look at this player!
Portrait of Zuan delle Rose – Giuseppe Tominz

I KNOW, my Son, that many young men never consider SEDUCTION in any other light than as an affair of gallantry. — Dead to the feelings of humanity, and to the obligations of every moral and religious tie, they scruple not to be the authors of their fellow-creature’s misery; they would shrink, these men of honour would shrink, from the appellation of villain though they act the villain’s part every time they pursue innocence to destruction; to gratify a sudden, perhaps, too, a transient, passion,  they scruple not to involve an ignorant, confiding, lovely, being, in all the wretchedness of guilt and remorse, to bring her to open disgrace, and to such shame as will render her an alien from the respectable part of society. Perhaps, forsaken by the wretch she loves, for whom she sacrificed her all, possibly reduced to poverty, and unable to bear her own reflections, she has no resource but in a broken heart; or, resisting every feeling which best adorns a woman, and yielding to those which most disgrace her, she may too probably mix with a hideous crew of abandoned associates, and pursue such courses as must shortly, in a different way, put a period to her wretched life; a life which more than possibly has been the cause of death to her miserable parents, made miserable by her crimes, and which likewise may have involved innocent sisters in her disgrace. Think not this picture overcharged, believe me, that as bad, or worse than what I have supposed, frequently happens; indeed, it is impossible to foresee all the evils which may be produced by seduction; as a proof of my assertion, I will relate to you some circumstances that occurred a few years ago; the parties were well known, but the names, as I have done before, I shall certainly disguise.

The story she uses to illustrate her points is either based extremely loosely on real people or wholly fabricated by Champion de Crespigny. She did, after all, publish several works of fiction. However, if you are down for a seriously campy melodramatic tale of ill-fated love, you are welcome to read a PDF of her story (warning: rape trigger.)

Moving on…

So, let’s say you fell for a handsome Regency buck. He promised eternal love, deep devotion, and a box seat at the theater. But then he stops sending you flowers and poems and returns your poems and flowers. One evening, you see him at the theater with another innocent thing dangling on his arm! That heartless seducer! It was all a lie. He probably made the same promises and sent the same maudlin poems to all the other ladies he seduced and abandoned.

Now your heart is smashed up, you’ve sullied your reputation, your friends won’t acknowledge you, and you are kicked out of your home (which happened to my Victorian heroine, Sarah Ward, in Amends <–buy this historical drama and support my site.) Don’t distress yourself! You can be reformed at the Magdelene House!

From A Short Account Of The Magdalen Hospital

The Magdalen Hospital, St George’s Fields. Full Bibliographic  http://catalogue.wellcomelibrary.org/record=b1197003

Its object is the relief and reformation of wretched outcasts from society; and the principle on which it is founded gives it, surely, some title to the countenance and favour of the Public, and particularly of the female sex; and her most gracious Majesty has set the example, by taking this Hospital under her more immediate patronage. And what can possibly be an object more worthy of their care, than the rescuing from the deepest woe and distress the most miserable of their fellow-creatures, leading them back from vice to virtue and happiness, reconciling the deluded and betrayed daughter to her offended mother, and restoring hundreds of unfortunate young women to industry, again to become useful members of that Community in which Providence has placed them?

The Magdalen Hospital was opened in the year 1758. During the period that it has subsisted, more than two-thirds of the women, who have been admitted, have been reconciled to their friends, or placed in honest employments or reputable services. Of this number, some undoubtedly have relapsed into their former errors; but many, who left the House at their own request, have since behaved well; and several of those discharged for improper behaviour have, to the certain knowlege of the Committee, never returned to evil courses. A very considerable number are since married, and are, at this moment, respectable members of society; and, could their names and situations be disclosed, (which, for the most obvious reasons, would be highly improper) the very great utility of this Charity would appear in the strongest light.

A Probationary Ward has been instituted for the young women on their first admission; a separation of those of different descriptions and qualifications has been established; and Apartments have been fitted up in the Lodge for the residence of the Chaplain, the Reverend Mr. PRINCE, and his family; that he may with the greater facility continue to devote his time and attention to the instruction of the women, in the same most satisfactory manner in which he has hitherto performed all the duties of his situation.

Each class is entrusted to its particular Assistant, and the whole is under the inspection of the Matron. This separation, useful on many accounts, is peculiarly so to a numerous class of women, who are much to be pitied, and to whom this Charity has been very beneficial; viz. young women, who have been seduced from their friends, under promise of marriage, and have been deserted by their seducers. They have never been in public prostitution, but fly to the MAGDALEN to avoid it. Their relations, in the first moments of resentment, refuse to receive, protect, or acknowlege them; they are abandoned by the world, without character, without friends, without money, without resource; and wretched indeed is their situation! To such especially this house of refuge opens wide its doors; and, instead of being driven by despair to lay violent hands on themselves, and to superadd the crime of self-murder to that guilt which is the cause of their distress, or of being forced by the strong call of hunger into prostitution, they find a safe and quiet retreat in this abode of peace and reflection. To rescue from the threatening horrors of prostitution such victims of the most base and ungenerous arts, whose ruin has frequently been more owing to their unsuspecting innocence than to any other cause, to restore them to virtue and industry, after one false step, and to reconcile their friends to them, are considerations of the greatest magnitude. The Committee generally give these young women the preférence, because they are almost certain of the best consequences; for it scarcely ever happens but their relations relent, when, by taking shelter in this House, they have given so strong a proof of their determination to quit a vicious way of life.

Retrospection – Thomas Eakins

The method of proceeding for the admission of women into this Hospital is as follows: The First Thursday in every Month is an admission day; when, sometimes, from twenty to thirty petitioners appear, who, without any recommendation whatever, on applying at the door, to the Clerk, receive a printed form of petition gratis, which is properly filled up. Each petition is numbered, and a corresponding number is given to the petitioner herself. They are called in singly before the Board, and such questions are put to them, as may enable the Committee to judge of the sincerity of their professions, and to ascertain the truth of their assertions. If a parent, relation, or friend, has accompanied them, (which, though not necessary, is very desirable, and is very frequently the case) these are also called in separately and examined, with a view to confirm and strengthen, if true, or to disprove, if false, the account given by the women themselves. The Committee take particular pains to select for admission the most deserving; as it often happens that there are but few vacancies. In the next place, they endeavour, to the best of their ability, to assist such other petitioners, as appear thoroughly resolved to amend their lives. Many are reconciled to their friends, by the interposition of the Committee, even without being admitted into the House; and others are supported until a vacancy takes place, that they may not be compelled by want to return to their evil ways. Women, whilst diseased, or pregnant, are not admissible, being objects for other Hospitals.

The treatment of the women is of the gentlest kind. They are instructed in the principles of the Christian Religion, in reading, and in several kinds of work, and the various branches of household employment, to qualify them for service, or other situations, wherein they may honestly earn their bread. The Chaplain attends them daily, to promote and encourage their good resolutions, and to exhort them to religion and virtue. The Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper is administered on the Great Festivals, and at other stated times; when many of the young women, who have been some time in the House, and who, after having themselves expressed their wish to be instructed in this duty, have been considered by the Chaplain as sufficiently informed and prepared for it, receive it with the most serious attention,

The time they remain in the House varies according to circumstances. The greatest pains are taken to find out their relations and friends, to bring about a reconciliation with them, and, if they be people of character, to put them under their protection: if, however, the young women are destitute of such friends, they are retained in the House till an opportunity offers of placing them in a reputable service, or of procuring them the means of obtaining an honest livelihood. No young woman, who has behaved well during her stay in the House, is discharged unprovided for.

The Picture Of London For 1803 includes some stats.

When discharged, they are for the most part UNDER TWENTY YEARS OF AGE!

To enable the public to judge of the real good effected by this institution, and of the great proportion the women reclaimed bear to the whole number, the following correct statement has been extracted from the books of the charity.

I will close on this heartbreaking news tidbit I found in The New Lady’s Magazine from 1786.

On Saturday morning the body of a fine young woman was taken out of the Thames at the end of Strand-lane, where he had drowned herself the preceding night, She appeared to be about eighteen years of age, and was known to have been turned out of doors the day before, by one of those inhuman monsters in the shape of women, who keep brothels in the neighbourhood of Drury-lane. The poor young victim had been brought from her parents at the age of eleven years by the mistress of the bagnio from which she was dismissed, when her face grew common, and the charms of extreme youth and novelty were no longer a temptation to debauched constitutions, and debilitated age. Thus thrown upon the town, penniless, and heart-broken, she did, as too many have already done, from the same causes she put an end to her existence, and trespassed against the commands of heaven, in order to get rid of her miseries on earth. The body was taken to a house in Strand-lane, which is one of those that are used by the constables of the night for the purpose of confining, or rather of fining those miserable objects, which seem. professionally to thicken our footways in proportion as depravity increases, and prostitution multiplies throughout this ill-governed extensive metropolis.


Vase of Red and White Carnations by Charles Léon Bonvin, who also committed suicide at age 31.
Posted on March 14, 2021August 30, 2021

Women in Late Joseon Korea – The Kisaeng

Oh, joy! Spring allergies are here again. To celebrate, I spent yesterday incapacitated on the couch watching K-dramas, including re-watching episodes of one of my newer favorites Mr. Queen.

All of this reminds me that I must continue my series on women in late Joseon Korea, as excerpted from Louise Jordan Miln’s book Quaint Korea, published in 1895. Today I’ve posted passages about Korean geishas known as Kisaeng. These women, usually between 16 and 22 years of age, were formally trained for their profession and regulated by the Korean government. Miln refers to these women as geisha. I’ve replaced these references with the Korean word Kisaeng. If you’re interested in learning more about Kisaeng, the Wikipedia entry for the Kisaeng is great.

As I caveated in my previous post on Joseon women, this excerpt is only one American woman’s observation of her experiences in Korea. You are welcome to politely correct or add more information (or suggest really good K-dramas!)

The word geisha is a Japanese word, and it signifies “accomplished person.” The Korean word for the class of women of whom I am writing is ki-saing.

ca. 1904. Gesang School (i.e. kisaeng school). Ephemera, Postcards. Place: Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library. https://library.artstor.org/asset/SS33525_33525_780252.

And as the women of the Korean gentry are more secluded than those of any other Asian gentry, so are the Kisaeng girls of Chosön more interesting, more fascinating…Women seem to be an indispensable element of society after all. Social enjoyment without them is more or less a failure, at least in any very prolonged form

***

The Kisaeng girls have names of their own, but then the Kisaeng have individuality; live lives, if not moral, why still, not colourless, and mix with men, if not on an equality, at least with a good deal of familiarity; and it would be rather awkward if the men who are dependent upon them for female society … had no name by which to call them. The “Fragrant Iris” was the name of a Kisaeng girl whose acquaintance Mr. Lowell tells us he made in Korea, and four of her companions were called “Peach Blossom,” “Plum Flower,” “Rose,” and “Moonbeam.”

ca. 1904. Corean beauty. Ephemera, Postcards. Place: Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library. https://library.artstor.org/asset/SS33525_33525_779937.
 
Description: A young ‘kisaeng’ (singing girl) in full Korean traditional dress. She has a typical married women’s hair style (jjok), which is called chignon with a hairpin (the ‘pinyo’). Korean ‘kisaeng’, or singing girls, dressed up for singing and dancing. A ‘Kisaeng’s’ social position was among the lowest in the traditional Korean class system. Their daughters also became ‘kisaeng’ and their sons became slaves. The art of entertaining of the ‘kisaeng’ is analogous to the Japanese geisha. These professional entertainers were highly trained in the arts of poetry, music, dance, and other forms of social or artistic diversion. In the early 1900s, ‘kisaeng’ did their hair up in a ‘chignon’ and wear shorter jackets (about 7-8 inches) than ordinary women – The skirts were cut with a full slit at the back and were fixed to the right side, while upper class women’s skirt were fixed to the left. Source: Kwon, O-chang. Inmurhwaro ponun Choson sidae uri ot, 1998, p. 140.

To please, to amuse, to understand, and to companion men, mentally and socially, is their chief duty, their chief occupation, and their most earnest study. The Kisaeng girl is, as a rule, rather better educated than the concubine, better educated, quite possibly, than the wife; for the Kisaeng must make her way, and hold any position she gains, solely by personal talent, personal attractiveness, and personal attainments. Not for her to lay at the man’s feet a son who may worship him into the most desirable corner of the Korean heaven; only for her to please him while she is with him, to touch for him odd instruments and sing to them soft, weird songs, to shake the soft perfume of her hair across his cheek and the perfume of the flowers she wears upon the bowl of food, or of fish, or fruit she humbly places before him; only for her to laugh at his humour, flat howsoever it may be; only for her to applaud his ambitions, urge on his hopes, charm away his fears; only for her to please; never for her, save by accident, to be pleased.

***

In proportion to the populations of the two countries there are far fewer Geisha in Korea than in Japan, but this is solely, I think, because Korea is so much poorer than Japan; for nowhere are women of their profession more appreciated, more esteemed, and treated by men more on an equality than they are in Chosön. The Korean Kisaeng is systematically and carefully trained for her intended profession. Several years are occupied by her education, and not until she is proficient in singing, in dancing, in reciting, in the playing of many instruments, in repartee, in the pouring of wine, in the filling and lighting of pipes, in making herself generally useful at feasts and festivals, and above all, in being good-natured, is she allowed to ply her trade. In or near every large Korean city are picturesque little buildings called “pleasure-houses.” They are very like the tea-houses of Japan. They are usually built in some secluded spot, and are surrounded by the brilliance of flowers, and half hidden beneath the shadow of trees. They are scantily but artistically furnished, and are running over with tea and sweetmeats and girls.

The Kisaeng of the King are, of course, the flower of the profession, and are dressed even more elaborately than the ordinary Kisaeng, which is quite superfluous.

https://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2001705585/
Geisha girl of palace

Most Asian dances are slow. Probably the slowest of them all is the dance of the Korean Kisaeng. The Kisaeng herself is covered and covered from throat to ankle. It would be imprudent to say how many dresses she usually wears at once. She dresses in silk and in glimmering tissues. Before dancing she usually takes off two or three of her gowns, and tucks up the trains of the robes she still wears, but even so she is very much dressed, and a thoroughly well-clad person. In winter she wears bands of costly fur on her jaunty little cap, and an edge of the same fur about her delightful little jacket of fine cashmere, or of silk. She wears most brilliant colours, and all her garments are perfumed and exquisitely clean. Indeed, cleanliness must be her ideal of godliness.

***

Her parents are poor, always very poor, and she is pretty, always very pretty. It is this prettiness which causes her almost from her babyhood to be destined for the amusement profession. It makes her suitable for that profession, and ensures her probable success in it. Her parents gladly set her aside from the toilers of the family, and she is given every possible advantage of mind and person. So she is insured a life of ease, and even of comparative luxury. She is a blooming, gladsome thing, with gleaming eyes, and laughing lips, and happy dancing feet. She looks like some marvelous human flower when you meet her in the streets of Söul, and forms an indescribable contrast to the draggled crowds that draw apart to let her pass as she goes on her laughing way to her well-paid work.

Kisaengs are greatly in demand for picnics, and in the summer often spend days in the cool, fragrant woods, playing for, reciting to, and feasting with some merry party of pleasure-makers. If their services are required at a Korean feast they usually slip in one by one when the meal is more than half done. The host and his guests make room for them, and each girl seats herself near to a man whose attendant she thus becomes for the entire evening. They pour wine for the men, and see that all their wants and creature comforts are well looked after. They do not eat unless the men voluntarily feed them. To feed them is to give them a great mark of favour, and it would be the worst of bad form for them to refuse any morsel so offered. After the feast they sing and dance in turn and together. They recite love stories and ballads, and strum industriously away upon Korean instruments. Their singing is very plaintive: as sad as any earthly music, but it is not sweet nor pleasing to European ears. To introduce them for an evening into the most respectable family circle is regarded as the best of good taste. Some of these girls live together, many of them live, nominally at least, in the homes of their own childhood. They form strange contrasts to their sisters of approximately the same age, whose lives have been lives of virtue and incessant work.

ca. 1904. A Corean court singer. Ephemera, Postcards. Place: Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library. https://library.artstor.org/asset/SS33525_33525_779853.
Description
Courtesans frequently danced and sang during festivities at the royal court. This singer/dancer is shown wearing a ‘hwagwan’ (a small crown decorated with flowers and jewels), and a long, well-tailored silk jacket over a skirt. Her hands grasp colorful pieces of cloth which are enhance her performance as she dances. This is a (hand-colored) photograph taken in a studio setting, produced for mass production. Source: Kwon, O-chang. Inmurhwaro ponun Choson sidae uri ot, 1998, p. 150.

Kisaengs never by any chance become familiar with, or are treated familiarly by the women of the households into which they are occasionally introduced, and yet some of them are not unchaste in their personal lives. This, however, is of course very exceptional. Occasionally the Kisaeng becomes the concubine of a man of position, or the personal attendant of a man of wealth.

 https://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2003666545/

Women in Late Joseon Korea – Fashion and Marriage
Women in Late Joseon Korea – Part One

Posts pagination

Page 1 Page 2 … Page 7 Next page

Follow me:

  • Facebook
  • Amazon
  • Pinterest
  • Goodreads
  • Threads
  • Instagram

New!
Audiobook of How To Impress A Marquess

Comedy with shades of family drama. Victorian. Heartfelt. Artsy

Excerpt:

London
Spring, 1879
A day without Lilith Dahlgren was a fine day indeed, George, Marquess of Marylewick, mused as he eased back in his brougham seat.

He was finally heading home after surviving another insipid musical evening of delicate young darlings in dainty gowns gently butchering Bach or Mozart. He removed his top hat, tugged his tie loose, and gazed out at the night. Gold halos glowed around the gaslights, turning the London night a silken deep gray. The moody atmosphere reminded him of Joseph Mallord William Turner’s paintings. Turner was a real painter, unlike Lilith’s ramshackle bohemian friends whose art resembled the plum jelly drawings a four- year-old George had created on his nursery walls. These new artists should be punished for their pathetic attempts at art the same way he had been: their hands dipped in iced water and then slapped with a leather strap. Indolent wastrels, all of them.

George released a long stream of tired breath and reviewed his day to make sure he had squeezed every drop of productive juice from it. He had attended the boxing parlor as he did every morning. He had danced about the ring, thinking about the metaphorical punches he needed to deliver in the heated debate of the contentious Stamp Duty Extension Bill. After a brief breakfast with his sister, he had reviewed estate, bank, and stock accounts with his man of business. Then he had legged over to White’s to pass the remainder of the morning making political battle plans with the lord chancellor. Two more hours had been allocated in the afternoon for the business of his numerous wards and dependents, including the sugar-coated orders from his mama as she readied Tyburn Hall for the upcoming house party. Three Maryle relatives had appointments and were each given fifteen minutes. George believed that was sufficient time for them to express the matter at hand without lapsing into tears or drama. He abhorred sentimentality and rapturous overtures of any kind— all the things that characterized Lilith.

Learn more about How To Impress A Marquess>

Wicked, My Love
Zany comedy. Victorian. Roadtrip. Enemies-to-Lovers

Excerpt:

Prologue
1827

Nine-year-old Viscount Randall gazed toward Lyme’s coast but didn’t see where the glistening water met the vast sky. He was too lost in a vivid daydream of being all grown-up, wearing the black robes of the British prime minister, and delivering a blistering piece of oratorical brilliance to Parliament about why perfectly reasonable boys shouldn’t be forced to spend their summer holidays with jingle-brained girls.

“You know when your dog rubs against me it’s because he wants to make babies,” said Isabella St. Vincent, the most jingled-brained girl of them all, interrupting his musings

The two children picnicked on a large rock as their fathers roamed about the cliffs, searching for ancient sea creatures. Their papas were new and fast friends, but the offspring were not so bonded, as evidenced by the line of seaweed dividing Randall’s side of the rock from hers.

“All male species have the barbaric need to rub against females,” she continued as she spread strawberry preserves on her biscuit.

She was always blurting out odd things. For instance, yesterday, when he had been concentrating hard on cheating in a game of whist in hopes of finally beating her, she had piped up, “Do you know the interest of the Bank of England rose by a half a percentage?” Or last night, when she caught him in the corridor as he was trying to sneak a hedgehog into her room in revenge for losing every card game to her, including the ones he cheated at. “I’m going to purchase canal stocks instead of consuls with my pin money because at my young age, I can afford greater investment risks,” she’d said, shockingly oblivious to the squirming, prickly rodent under his coat.

Learn more about Wicked, My Love >

Zany. Hot. Banter. Victorian. Blackmail.

Excerpt:

No. 15 Wickerly Square, London
Tuesday, March 11, 1845

Vivienne Taylor repressed a mischievous smile as she gazed at the female members of the Wesley Congregation. The way the ladies sat in three neat rows, with their earnest faces poking out from their morning caps, resembled a gardening bed of black and white lacy flowers. They gathered for the weekly Bible lessons held in the parlor of Gertrude Bertis’s home on Wickerly Square.

Aunt Gertrude banged her cane on the floor, signaling the beginning of the lessons and scaring Garth, her pug dog, who had been snoozing at her feet. “Sisters, today we shall have a special reading in celebration.” Her mouth hiked slightly around the edges… the closest she came to smiling. For though she had a plump, flushed face—the kind made for grins and laughter—she kept her mouth and brow in tense, severe lines, making her appear decades older than her forty-one years. She wore her hair in a snug bun, but a few rebellious strands of silver and brown escaped and curled about her face. Her corset was laced tight, constraining her expansive, round form into rigid feminine contours. Yet when she gazed at her niece, a tender glow melted all the hardness in her eyes.

“My little Vivvie is engaged.” Aunt Gertrude reached over and patted the top of Vivienne’s hand. A wave of warmth flowed through Vivienne’s body.

The ladies cooed, “How lovely,” and “Won’t you be a beautiful bride?”—not the sort of disapproving words Vivienne had heard most of her twenty-two years, words such as, “Proper young ladies do not bring up the marriage customs of the ancient Spartans at the dinner parties,” and “Proper young ladies do not ask the circulating library for books by the Marquis de Sade,” and, the one that embarrassed her father the most, “Proper young ladies are not asked to leave Ladies Seminary.”

Learn more about Wicked Little Secrets >

Victorian. Drama. Second Chance Love.

Excerpt:

Dorian Hall. Essex.
Late Spring. 1867

Markham Litton peered into the darkness beyond the great arc windows in the drawing room as his guests prattled on. The night enjoyed a full moon. Usually, under such a celestial lamp, he could make out the dim shape of the church’s belfry rising above the churchyard trees. However, dense low-hanging clouds and rain concealed the landscape around Dorian Hall tonight. During the day, he could peer over the patchwork of fields to where the village church’s brick temple rose over the slate rooftops. There, beneath the sprawling yew tree in the churchyard, rested the graves of his son and wife.

Frederick Markham Tristan Litton
Beloved son
1857-1866
Lady Emmaline
Beloved wife and mother. 
1836-1859

 Although their marriage had been a strained one, the passing of his wife had hurt him deeply. But nothing could stem the pain of losing his eldest son. At Tristan’s funeral, the vicar had assured Markham that the souls of the dead rested for the day when they would rise again and be reunited with their loved ones. Markham was never of the religious inclination. He didn’t know what he believed anymore. Nonetheless, it was comforting to think that his son Tristan simply slumbered in this bucolic setting, as peaceful as when he was an infant in his cradle, and one day, he would awaken to find his father at his side once again.

“Markham, old boy.” Lord Simon rested his hand on Markham’s shoulder.

Markham realized that his friend had been looking at him, waiting for a response, but he had drifted miles away. “My apologies,” he muttered.

Markham’s sister, Alice Grosse, flashed Simon a meaningful look from beneath her lashes. As much as his sister and friend tried to make their visit to Dorian Hall appear casual, their motive could hardly be disguised. They had joined forces, determined to “help” Markham.

Learn more about Amends >

Victorian. Drama. Wales. Veteran. Societal Ruin

Excerpt:

December 1860 
I should have taken the first train out of London.

Music thundered in Theo’s ears. His hands shook. Sweat poured down his back, drenching the shirt beneath his evening coat.

On the chalked dance floor, couples swept to a waltz being played by a chamber orchestra of violins, flutes, and a harp. The light of the gas flames in the chandeliers glistened on the silk and taffeta skirts as they swished to the lift and fall of the dance. The young ladies’ cheeks were flushed from the heat, and their hair was styled into stiff waves and spirals and adorned with beads and flowers. The scent of perfumes and men’s hair oils burned Theo’s nose. He balled and flexed his hands, taking long breaths to slow his racing heart. The last five years tending his gardens and living like a monk in the Snowdonia mountains of North Wales hadn’t managed to lessen his angst at coming back to the city.

“Pray, Theo, it’s but a dance, not a parliamentary debate,” Theo’s stepmother Marie, the Countess of Staswick, said. She scanned the ballroom with her shiny cocoa eyes. “You are going to scare off the ladies with that glower you wear.”

He forced a smile. Before him, another season’s fresh crop of debutantes whirled—one of whom, his stepmother had assured him, would make a lovely bride. Marie had never surrendered her belief that the soft arms of a loving wife could “cure” Theo where quack doctors and opiates had failed.

Learn more about Frail >

Contemporary Romance. Drama. Southern. Small Town. Friendship

Excerpt:

 “I’m late. I’m so effing late,” Kiki muttered like a profane white rabbit. She hurried along as fast as was gracefully possible in four-inch heels over the pavers of the Atlanta Botanical Garden. She missed her warm, comfy yoga pants and fuzzy socks she had left abandoned in a puddle on her bathroom floor. Instead of spending a low-energy, low-risk evening cuddled with her warm laptop in bed, eating popcorn from the microwavable bag and binge-watching anime, she was attending an awkward evening of real, person-to-person networking. All stiff smiles, saying where she worked and then making small talk about the weather because that’s what she was left with as she wasn’t a sports fan unless commenting about the hotness of soccer players on the big screen at a bar counted.

Ahead of her, red, orange, and yellow tulips, planted in color-coordinated lines, bordered the path. Their vivid hues visually popped against the gloaming jewel tones striping the skyline. The midtown skyscrapers rose in harsh vertical lines above organic curves formed by the treetops. White-gold lights created hazy haloes along the building tops.

A picture of color and symmetry.

She reached to pull her camera from her red Japanese schoolgirl-style backpack and capture the moment, but then remembered she had left her backpack and camera at home. All she had was a useless clutch that held the basics: car keys, lipstick, phone, ID, credit card, business card, and two twenty-dollar bills—because her grandpa always said it was dangerous to go around without cash.

Learn more about Junk Shop Girl >

Regency. Comedy-drama.

Excerpt:

Norfolk, England 1819

Lord Blackraven could see her from the rocky cliff. She walked, trancelike, into the murky ocean of her doom. The moonlight illuminated her pale skin as her raven hair floated on the water. He jammed his heels into his stallion’s ribs, sending the beast sailing over the ravine. The branches slapped his face, keeping him from his beloved. He screamed her name wildly, “Arabellina! Arabellina!”

She heard his call but mistook it for the fevered voices in her confused mind. Lord Blackraven was never coming back. He was dead. Stabbed. Every dream of happiness lay buried with him. She took a long breath, her last, and sank into the swirling waves, the stone tied to her feet taking—

A quick motion in the periphery of Henrietta’s watering eye yanked her attention from her book. Had the mail coach come? She anxiously peered out the window to the cobblestone road just beyond the ivy-covered garden gate.

No mail coach. Just her elderly neighbor standing in her worn, sagging morning dress, shooing chickens off the road with a straw broom. Henrietta’s heart sank. The mantel clock chimed the hour, sounding like two spoons being clanked together ten times. The mail was twenty minutes late! This proved what she always suspected, that the Royal Mail Service held a personal grudge against her.

Learn more about Rakes And Radishes>

Some Other Stories

I Wrote A Fantasy Romance Short Story!
The Homemaker

©Susanna Ives. All rights reserved.
  • Facebook
  • Amazon
  • Pinterest
  • Goodreads
  • Threads
  • Instagram

Privacy Policy Proudly powered by WordPress

 

Loading Comments...