by Jo Beverley
“Of course we’ll be paying our share at Corny’s,” Harry said quickly. “Food, fodder, and all that.”
Chart looked mildly surprised, but he was a kindhearted young man, if careless, and he quickly assented. “Gods, yes. Good enough of Corny to put us up. No need to put him to extra expense.”
A few incoherent mumbles came from their host and were ignored. “So what are you doing here so early, Verderan?” asked Chart.
“Business. I too have inherited a place nearby. But for the moment I’m staying at the Old Club.” He looked at them and found himself saying, “If you promise not to blow your noses on the tablecloth you may dine with me there tonight.”
Despite their attempt at sophistication, three faces flushed and three pairs of eyes shone. “I say, that’s damned decent of you, Ver,” said Harry.
“ Yes, it is,” said Verderan brusquely. “Don’t make me regret it.”
The trio correctly took this as dismissal and made themselves scarce while Verderan wondered if it was a sign of senility, this tendency to be so disgustingly kind to people. More likely it was a lingering effect of the morning’s adventure. He was never coming within a mile of Poudre de Violettes again.
* * *
The three ecstatic young men ducked into the nearest inn and commanded the best October ale.
“What a piece of luck!” declared Chart. He turned to Corny. “Course we’d never have had a chance of dining at the Club if it was the season.”
“‘Course not,” said Corny earnestly.
“Dining there’s only for the best. Might get in after for some drink and play, mind you, particularly if Randal were here.”
“Randal won’t be here,” pointed out Harry. “Just married.”
Chart looked shocked. “You think he’ll miss the whole season?”
“Unless he brings Sophie,” Harry said.
“Ladies don’t take to Melton much,” advised Corny.
“True enough,” said Chart, “but you never know with Sophie. Besides, you wouldn’t think Randal would want to be with her all the time would you? Dashed queer, if you ask me, and devilish inconvenient. We need a sponsor to be in at the best.”
Chart and Harry started an analysis of their family and friends and found it singularly disappointing. They were both well connected. Chart was the grandson of the Duke of Tyne; Harry was the son and heir of Viscount Thoresby and connected through his mother to Lord Liverpool and the Tory establishment. None of that was the slightest use in Melton. Here one needed a connection to Belvoir, Lord Lonsdale or Sefton, Assheton-Smith or Pierrepoint. All of which were depressingly lacking.
“Mr. Verderan?” offered Terance tentatively.
The other two looked at him in shock. “Too risky,” said Chart. He leant forward slightly. “Word to the wise, Corny. He’s a dangerous man.”
Terance’s look was a question.
“Dueler. Killed his man twice. Never lets anyone cross him.”
Terance swallowed. “Seemed . . . seemed a pleasant sort of fellow.”
“Yes,” said Chart thoughtfully. “Damned strange.”
“Oh, come on,” protested Harry. “He can be dashed pleasant. I tell you, I was grateful to get him at Eton. Never ran me ragged, and though he’s got a tongue like a knife, he never laid a hand on me.”
“Had a running feud with Osbaldeston that’s the talk of the school still,” pointed out Chart. “Broke his arm. Went after Swallowton and flogged him when he wouldn’t fight.”
Harry went a little red. “Osbaldeston was always a bully and Swallowton . . . that was on my account. He was bothering me, if you know what I mean.”
* * *
Emily and the Dark Angel and If Fancy be the Food of Love… are part of a series of traditional Regency romances which were my first published work. The interweaving stories involve the Kyle and Ashby families and their friends. The sequence is:
Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed
The Stanforth Secrets
The Stolen Bride
Emily and the Dark Angel (RITA winner)
The Fortune Hunter
Deirdre and Don Juan. (RITA winner)
They are all available in print and e-book. The last two, The Fortune Hunter and Deirdre and Don Juan, were published together in print as Lovers and Ladies. You can find out more about them, and all my other books, at www.jobev.com
VALENTINE VERSES, SPELLS AND GAMES
We've seen the young gentlemen writing their Valentine's Day verses, but it appears some men weren't confident of their abilities. In that case, they could purchase Kemmish's Annual and Universal Valentine Writer for 6d (in 1805)
It's available on line, but here are some samples.
This first one accompanies the gift of a "housewife" which is a sewing kit.
* * *
I this present convey,
You'll find it of infinite use,
Of pockets here's four,
All fill'd, and a store
Of what you may want will produce.
Fine silk and fine thread,
White, blue, and red;
For mending or making right fit;
Then your needles in rows,
The leaves will enclose ;
'Tis a piece of my grandmother's wit.
Each notable lass,
Who to wedlock would pass,
And herself would make both neat and fine,
A housewife must wear,
Or else I declare,
She shall not be my valentine.
* * *
The next seems a bit risqué, but it probably isn't meant to be.
* * *
Among the lasses on the green,
There's none like you so fair is seen;
None so sweet and none so fine,
Nor fit to be my valentine.
Then come my fair, let's haste away,
And join in love this happy day;
Nature approves the soft design,
Then come and be my Valentine.
* * *
This next is a generous wish we could offer anyone, and it's clear it's to be sent by a woman to a man.
May peace and plenty, you each hour attend,
And may you never lose or want a friend :
May all your hours pass as you desire,
And may you wed, the girl you most admire.
May you be bless'd with all that Heaven can send,
Long life, much pleasure, and an honest friend,
Then join this day in nature's soft design,
To, be my ever faithful Valentine.
* * *
This one is quite violent!
Love scattering round his darts, among the rest,
He shot himself into my artless breast;
Thro' heart and soul the shaft like light'ning stole,
And with strange influence seiz'd my melting soul:
Now in a flame unquenchable I burn,
And feel my breast to another Etna' turn
In such my passion, I've a heart to give,
An equal match; come then, and it receive.
* * *
Here's one's designed to be sent by a cobbler.
You'll recognize the tools of his trade.
And it includes a suggested answer, playing on those tools.
A-h! well-a-day, I 've lost my awl; ,
Since for it you did my heart enthrall;
My knives are dull, I cannot mend,
And all my work is to no end :
My balls of wax are useless grown,
My bristles weak are ever gone,
The business of my lapstone's past,
My tacks are broke, and spoil'd my last,
Ah! would you be to Crispin kind,
Again things would be well you'd find.
My pegging-awl again would shine;
If you'd love me, sweet Valentine.
ANSWER.
Friend Crispin, while you use your awl.
And labour to the
last,
Permit your Valentine to call,
With thanks for savours past.
Nice to a hair you make each shoe,
They fit me quite compleat;
But what I blush to tell is true,
My heart you fit as well as feet.
* * *
Here's another Valentine and answer of a less successful sort.
If you would grant me my request,
I then most surely would be blest;
But if you treat me with disdain,
To hang myself l would be fain.
Then pray consent and make me thine,
To save from death your Valentine.
ANSWER.
Go hang yourself, for ought you're worth,
You were a scoundrel from your birth;
And if you cannot buy a rope,
Some fool will. trust you one I hope.
* * *
Another passionate plea gains a more favourable response.
My torments still do with my passion grow,
The more I love thee, the more I undergo.
But suffer me no longer to remain
Beneath the pressure of so vast a pain;
My wound requires some speedy remedy,
Delays are fatal when despair's so nigh.
Much I've endur'd, much more than l can tell,
Too much indeed, for one that loves so well.
ANSWER.
Thomas, excuse the answer of a maid,
Your passion now l know by what you've said:
Now l'm convinc'd your love's sublime and true,
Such as I always wish to find in you.
Each kind expression, every tender thought,
Has mighty transports in my bosom wrought:
Come then dear youth, to you I do incline,
Be thou but faithful, I’m thy Valentine.
* * *
A verse to accompany a rather macabre gift of a bracelet sent by a gentleman to a young lady.
This Bracelet tho' no gaudy thing,
Did from a parent's labour spring;
She wove it anxious thought to charm,
And thenceforth wore it on her arm.
Dying, to me this gift she gave,
That some remembrance I might have
Of her, when I it saw and take
A pleasing sorrow, for her sake.
"My son." said she, with falt'ring breath,
"You see me yielding unto death.
This my last present safely keep,
Till thus, like me, in peace you sleep."
This favor shall I give away?
Let filial piety say Nay.
But 'tis no gift when sent to thee,
Who art the noblest part of me.
Yet, as a gift my fair one view, ,
This most I prize-and give it you.
* * *
Here's a bold one from servant Tom to the Lady's Maid. It indicates that the status of the lady's maid was very high.
Your cheeks, my sweet dear,
I to Claret compare;
Your eyes are like sparkling champaigne;
And your skin, my dear Nabby,
Is softer than Tabby,
Who does in the gutter complain.
* * *
While here I’m a dweller,
Not all in my cellar,
The choicest and richest of wine,
Can give me such pleasure,
Tho' all is full measure,
As you my sweet Valentine.
* * *
To the pantry come down,
My wishes to crown,
I'll give you a relish that's fine;
I’ve a slice of rich gammon,
Brawn. sturgeon, and salmon,
For you my sweet Valentine.
ANSWER.
You impudent clown,
I soon will come down,
Tho' not to your pantry or larder;
To tell me of brawn,
Who dress in long lawn!
But your place shall be ten times the harder.
* * *
My lady shall know,
What you've got to bestow,
And how you make waste of her wine,
Her sturgeon and salmon,
And dainty fine gammon,
So much, my sweet Valentine.
* * *
Besides, you're a fool,
Who in love knows no rule:
A brute like a bear or a swine;
Then pray send no more,
And your suit now give o'er,
For you shall not be my valentine.
* * *
* * *
From a sailor
* * *
Dear Miss I'm a Tar,
Just arrived from afar,
But now cruizing about for a wife;
You're young and l'm able,
Let's instant cut cable,
And sail through the ocean of life.
* * *
For Your Further Amusement - Some Old Time Love Rituals
(It strikes me that young ladies had to be knowledgeable about astronomy and astrology, as well as able to engage in strange practices, such as digging around in graves, without their families noticing. They also needed access to some odd stuff. How easy is it to find an olive branch in Britain, or even a crow's quill? And boiling pewter? Yet these all come from a Victorian book I own.)
* * *
On Valentine's Day
If you receive a valentine and wish to know who sent it to you, the following plan will explain it to a certainty. Prick the fourth finger of your left hand and with a crow quill, using the blood as ink, write on the back of the valentine the day and hour on which you was born, the date of the year, the moon's age, and the morning star. Place the paper in your left shoe and put the shoe under your pillow. Lie on your left side and say these lines.
St. Valentine pray condescend
To be this night a maiden's friend.
Let me now my lover see,
Be he of high or low degree.
Let him come to my bedside
And my fortune thus decide.
You are sure to dream of the person who sent you the valentine and to know if he will marry you.
* * *
* * *
On Your Birthday
Buy a wedding ring, and the change you receive when paying for it give to the first poor person you meet. Mark what the person says to you in return for the gift and when you get home write it down on the four corners of a sheet of paper, and in the middle the initials of your name, your age, and the initials of the planets then reigning as morning and evening stars.
Get a branch of olive and fasten the ring on the stalk with a silk thread which has been steeped all day in honey and vinegar. Cover the ring and stalk with the written paper and wear it in your bosom till the ninth hour of the night, then go to a churchyard and bury it in the grave of a young man. Whilst you are doing so repeat the letters of your Christian name three times backwards. Go home, retire to rest at an early hour and your future husband will appear at the foot of your bed.
* * *
* * *
Another Ritual for your Birthday
Rise between three and four in the morning with cautious secrecy so as to be observed by no one, and pluck a sprig of laurel. Convey it to your bedchamber and hold it over some lighted brimstone for five minutes, which you must carefully note by a watch or dial. Wrap it in a white linen napkin together with your own name written on paper and that of the young man who addresses you. If there is more than one, write all the names down. Write also the day of the week, the date of the year, and the age of the moon, then haste and bury it in the ground where you are sure it will not be disturbed for three days and nights. Then take it, up, place the parcel under your pillow and your dreams will be truly prophetic as to your destiny.
* * *
On the Full Moon
Borrow the wedding ring of a married friend (a widow's will n
ot do) taking care not to mention the reason why you borrow it. Wear it for three hours before you retire for the night, then take it off and suspend it by a hair from your head over your pillow. Then take a sheet of paper and draw a circle on it. Within the circle write that portion of the marriage service beginning with the words "with this ring I thee wed" etc and over the circle write your own name in full and your age in figures. Then place it under your pillow and your dream will fully explain to you who you are to marry, also many things relating to your future fate. If your dream is vague and indistinct be sure you will never marry at all.
* * *
* * *
On the 27th of June
On the morning of the 27th of June between three and four, gather a full blown red rose taking care that no one sees you. Take it to your chamber and hold it over a chafing dish containing charcoal and sulphur of brimstone. Hold the rose over the smoke for about five minutes and it will have a wonderful effect on it. Before the rose gets cool put it on a sheet of paper on which is written your name and the name of him you love best, also the date of the year and the name of the morning star. Fold it and seal it with three neat seals and bury it at the foot of the plant from which you gathered the bloom. Let it stop until the 6th of July and then take it up and put it under your pillow, and before morning your fate will be revealed to you in a remarkable dream.
* * *
* * *
On receiving a love letter.
On receiving a love letter that has any particular declaration in it, lay it wide open, then fold it in nine folds, pin in next to your heart, and wear it there until bedtime. Then place in it your left glove and lay it under your head.
If you dream of gold, diamonds, or any other costly gem, your lover is true, and means what he says.