CE School Shopping - Laird Andrew and Lady Laura Loughney

I know that I am not exactly consistent with CEs, but I like to do them when I can, so I am linking up with Kendra of Knitted by God's Plan for her August Character Encounter, which just so happens to be school shopping.

Most of the time I enjoy school shopping, in fact, but today I am not very excited about it, because it symbolizes the end of summer with my family.  In just a few weeks I will have to return to college and will not see them until Christmastime.  With this depressing thought in mind, I still remember to shop sparingly, because I will have to transport everything that I buy in as small a space as possible.  I gaze longingly at the expensive leather bound journals and grab a few ten-cent notebooks instead.

"Why, where is this place?"

I turn around and nearly fall over in surprise.  A lady is standing behind me, and I know exactly who she is.  About fifty, dressed in unrelieved mourning with dark brown hair, she can be none other than Lady Laura Loughney of Castle Cauldwerden.  I imagined her rather taller, but in fact she is not much taller than I am.  The very sight of her makes me fell sloppy, underdressed, immature, and clumsy, but I straighten my back, wishing for the perfect posture that she is exhibiting.

"Where is this place?" she asks again.

I smile reassuringly, although if I were a titled lady used to luxury I would hardly be pleased to find myself in a Walmart.  "This is ah . . . a marketplace," I say.

"It is excessively loud and bright," she says.  "Also, it smells . . . odd."

"That's Walmart," I say, inwardly gleeful that her Scottish accent is just as perfect as I imagined it.

"What is your name?" she asks me, looking me up and down with her strangely bright eyes.  "Have you seen my Gavin?"

I bite my lip.  Lady Loughney is a little obsessed with one idea, finding her estranged son.  "Where did you come from?" I ask.  "How did you get here?"

"I was searching for my Gavin in the closet where he used to hide, and I came here.  Who are you, Miss?"

"I am Kathryn," I say.  "I know all about you, and Gavin."

Suddenly, around the corner strides a tall gentleman dressed in a green riding coat, brown trousers, and top-boots and carrying a tall beaver hat and riding whip.  His well-chiseled features are a mask of concern.  "Laurie, my love, there you are!" he exclaims when he sees his wife.

"Laird Andrew!" I exclaim, giving him an approving nod.  He is just as perfect as I imagined him, even to the embroidered thistles on his vest.

"Who are you?" he asks, gently drawing his wife to his side.

"Kathryn," I answer.

"I thought that Gavin might be here," says Lady Loughney plaintively.  "He was calling me, I know he was."

Laird Andrew is breathing heavily, as I thought he might.  "You witch!" he gasps.  "You brought us here."

At once I understand what he is thinking.  "Do you think that I am Katherine MacNielton?  I look nothing like her."

"You do look like her," insists Laird Andrew, but I decide that his guilty conscience is playing with his mind.

"MacNielton!" cries Lady Loughney.  "Don't they live on MacDrae land?"

"Aye, my love," answers Laird Andrew, his face growing more and more disturbed as he takes in the strange surroundings of Walmart.

"Katherine MacNielton is no witch, Laird Andrew," I firmly declare, deciding that I like this man better in literary form than in real life.

"If it were not for her, my Laurie would not be like this," Laird Andrew breathes.  "Where are we?  Give us back to our own place."

"Katherine MacNielton is not at fault," I reply.  "Neither is Gavin.  You are responsible for your wife's condition."

"Gavin is a rebellious son!" exclaims Laird Andrew, growing angry in a magnificent manner.

"Oh, my love, do not speak of him so!" exclaims Lady Loughney.  "Gavin is a good boy."

"She is right," I agree.  "Gavin was a dutiful son, giving up whatever you wanted him to.  But when you cast a slur on an honest girl, he had to defend her.  Your own pride has cost Lady Loughney her reason."

Laird Andrew takes a step in front of Lady Loughney, as if shielding her from my harsh words, but his face shows that he knows I am right.  "How do you know this?"

"I am the author writing the story that you are in," I say with a little smile, enjoying the shock that I see crossing his handsome features.  "In fact, you are only a figment of my imagination."

Laird Andrew closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.  "Why did you write such misery for us?" he asked.

"So that you would appreciate the happiness that is soon to come," I assured him.  "Once you learn to get over your pride, you shall become one of the happiest men in the world.  You are already so blessed."

He looks as though he cannot quite bring himself to believe me, not noticing that Lady Loughney has wandered around a corner, still searching for her Gavin.  He turns, and, seeing his wife gone, goes after her, leaving me standing alone, holding my ten-cent notebooks.

Thanks for reading, and God bless,

Introducing the Cover of CatT

Hi, everyone!

I am so excited, because today I am introducing the cover of Christmas at the Tittletons!  Oh, yes, that day has finally arrived.  I don't know if you were exactly waiting with baited breath for it, but I am certainly feeling a sense of accomplishment over here.

The day that the book itself will be released is still a little iffy, because the proofs have not yet arrived in the mail, but hopefully it will be out by the end of next month.

And now, here is the cover:

Yes, I am Joan Bassington-French.  That is my pen name.

And also, I am officially going to work on the sequel to Christmas at the Tittletons, which will feature Jessamine Warbling as narrator again.  The sequel is going to be called The Fey Castle and will have a whole new cast of characters as well as a few old ones.  Here is a snippet about one of the new characters, Mehitable Churnell:

I suppose the first thing one notices about Miss Churnell is that she is very angular.  She sticks out at corners, and has dark hair and wears dark clothes.  This does not at all set off her complexion, which is a rather sour yellow.  Thus she always manages to look like a shriveled lemon in mourning, even though she is not more than thirty.  She is forever occupied in the profession of finding a husband.  For someone that looks as she does it could be a lifetime profession.

~ The Fey Castle

Thanks for reading, and God bless,

Christmas in July

You haven't heard about it in a while, but I have been working on CatT lately.  Now that the text of Alicia is finished, I have turned my attention to my murder mystery.

I have been busy editing Christmas at the Tittletons and preparing it for publication.  I have already designed the cover, which was an exciting milestone!

Jessamine Warbling

Now that I am mostly finished with CatT except for a final proof and getting a little more feedback from some friends *AHEM* hint, hint, Kiri and Beth, I plan on continuing work on Ira Bournton.  I have gotten into the historical mystery mood again.  So, it looks like Ira, Muriel Irene, and Jonas are going to be resurrected for the rest of the summer, at least.  If I do any more posting, you will probably hear a good deal about the Gaskey family and life in Boston.

Of course, I am considering a sequel to CatT, narrated by my own dear Jessamine Warbling.  After all, I practically set the stage for a sequel at the end of CatT.  So now I will have to follow her to Scotland.  What do you think?  Would you rather have Victorian Scotland or 1870s New England?

Thanks for reading and God bless,

Never nap before bedtime!

Well, last evening I was reading and I fell asleep.  I rarely do that!  Anywho, I slept for an hour and a half, and one of my brothers had to wake me for family devotions.  I was all groggy for that, and after devotions, we read aloud letters from our delightful CBCs!

When I was ready to go to bed, though, I could not fall asleep!  I lay awake for hours, listening to the sounds of night and fantasizing about living in Rindavae (Alicia's world).  That is what you get for taking a nap only a few hours before you are supposed to be sleeping.

Alicia is in the very first stages of editing.  Of course all of my family members are clamoring to read it, which is a bit embarrassing for me, because all I can think of are the numerous mistakes that flood its pages.  Thankfully Mama is a quality assurance manager for an MT company, which is basically a professional spellchecker, so she will help proofread for mistakes.

Meanwhile, while I am editing Alicia, I cannot completely cut out other writing, so I am working on a supplementary volume for another story.  This supplementary volume is in the form of a personal journal, although when I write the story the character keeping the journal, one Loren D'Nore, will be only a secondary character.  However, this journal will provide many necessary background details for the story which I think I am going to call The Wraiths of Torte.  It has been four years in the planning, m'dears.

And in between all of that writing, we have been making blueberry jam and plum cake and blueberry muffins and other such summery delicacies over here!  There is nothing like homemade jam spread out on a fresh piece of homemade bread!  Besides which, we have been canning green beans from our garden.  You should see how many beans we are already harvesting this early in the season!  Hidden Orchards is doing quite well, I must say!

Thanks for reading, and God Bless,

Sweet Victory!

Oh, yes, that is what I call finishing the text for Alicia!  Just a few minutes ago I typed finis and ended at 116,681 words, which is a lot of words!  I am so excited!  Here is a collage which I made up for the characters in the story to help along with the celebration.  Perhaps I am the only one celebrating this.  I know that I did not finish the story in June like I had hoped to, but I became very busy, and then I was distracted earlier this month when a certain slew of CBCs came over and stayed for a week!

Anywho, the story is finished, and I am very happy!  Oh, yes, I am very happy!  So is Alicia.  Her hand hurts from all the writing she has been doing.  They do not have any shortcuts in Valewin.  She had to write her whole story down with a pen.

Perhaps you would like some snippets!

“I feel so useless right now,” moaned Calla.  “The attack was so quick, and I did not even have time to think!”

            “Where were you when Elori Tajisscra came?” asked Rachelle.

            “I heard a commotion in the courtyard, so I came to see what it was, and when I saw that wretched creature, I ran back to my chamber and hid.  Only after one of the servants came and told me what had happened did I leave.  Of course, I suppose that running and hiding is cowardly, but I could not think of anything else to do.”

            Rachelle nodded grimly.  “Against Elori I think no one could do anything.”

            I was not feeling nearly as generous toward Calla as Rachelle seemed to be.  Of course, Calla probably did the sensible thing, but I had always cherished a hope that Calla would always come in my moments of mortal danger if she could.  Instead, I found that she cared more for her safety than her friend’s lives.  I was disgusted.

~ Alicia

Birinin beamed gloriously.  Elstav smiled as drily as one can possibly smile.  “Thank you, Eseth Deladel.  I am certain that you will be of good service to Alfieri.  He is the hero.”

            “I do not mean to lead!” cried Alfieri.

            “Ah, but that is your responsibility!” cried Elstav.  “Birinin and I are at your side unconditionally as long as you remain true, but you will make the ultimate decisions.  You have seen the leader of the opposing side.  Do you think that you can defeat him?  He thinks that you can.”

            “He is so powerful!” exclaimed Alfieri.

            “Indeed, he is a very powerful creature, but so are you,” answered Birinin.  “The Good Master made you very powerful indeed, although you cannot use Lucor.  You see, you have the three gifts that the Good Master gave Mortals.  Tajisscra can never taste your kind of power, which is so much better than Lucor.  Even we Cheol Ruvin can never know the fullness of love or loyalty or courage as you can.  Mortals are the most privileged, you see.  You have the true power, and you must learn to use it.”

~ Alicia

Thanks for reading!

Happy June!

Dear blogging friends,

This month will mark the one-year anniversary of my blog!  I know that I have been less than faithful, especially during the school year, but I hope that I will be able to post more this summer.

And now that it is June, I feel that I should put some writing goals up here.  I want to finish Alicia this month.  That is a big order, because the ending is still hazy to me.  I know what I want to happen to everyone in the story except for my main character!  Very annoying!

By the way, I shall post some more snippets, this time from part 2, which is coming along nicely.

Sir Ashenisk held his swords crossed before him.  He dashed among the rubble of the collapsed house as the Dragon turned and spewed flames at him.  Sir Ashenisk ducked, and the flames flared uselessly out over the river.  As the Dragon gulped, preparing itself for another attack, Sir Ashenisk made his move.  He darted towards the beast and stabbed at its throat.  The Dragon reared on its hind legs to its full height and grabbed for the knight with its long, sharp foreclaws.  Sir Ashenisk ducked again and swiped his swords over his head, slicing off the Dragon’s horny talons.

            The Dragon plunged itself down, trying to crush Sir Ashenisk, but the knight quickly scrambled out from beneath the falling body and began clambering up the sides of the Dragon.  The monster reared, trying to shake Sir Ashenisk off its back, but Sir Ashenisk clung doggedly on, pulling himself slowly up towards the Dragon’s head.  The Dragon knew full well what the knight was attempting, and its repulses became more desperate.  It tossed its head wildly and roared its annoyance to the skies.  Sir Ashenisk only tightened his clutch on the Dragon.  Finally he was able to reach around the neck of the Dragon and shove his sword into the beast’s neck.

            With a strangled attempt at a bellow, the Dragon reared its head, and the exhausted Sir Ashenisk tumbled down its back.  The Dragon slumped down, cracking a few more logs from the house.  Sir Ashenisk rolled over and lay on the ground gasping for breath.

~ Alicia

“Alicia, I have him!” I heard Calla shout from not far away.  I turned the corner of one of the houses and saw her, illuminated in the flames, standing over a kneeling figure.

            “Alfieri!” I called, running over to them.  Calla caught me before I reached them, and I saw that Alfieri held a motionless body in his arms, burnt beyond recognition.  Somehow I knew that it was Seria.  “We need to get him out of here,” I told Calla.  The building next to us was about to collapse and smother us in flames.

            I ran over to Alfieri and shook his shoulders.  “Come, son of Fer.  Leave her.”

            He looked up at me with a face as sooty as his father’s.  “Let me die,” he rasped.

            “Never,” I snapped.  “Grab one of his arms, Calla, and we can pull him out.”

            Calla obediently took hold of one of Alfieri’s arms and we hauled him to his feet and pulled him towards the river.  The building crashed moments afterward, sending a shower of sparks into the air.

            Alfieri moaned.  I slapped his face.  “Come to yourself, man,” I said.  “We have to get to the river.”

            He stared at me, surprised.  “Princess?” he said.

            “Call me Alicia,” I replied firmly.  “You should be at the river.  Come with us.”

~ Alicia

“The secret,” said Mistress Caffivi, “to making a soup is to add a lot of water.  We always have plenty of water, you know, but sometimes meat is scarce, or, right now, vegetables are scarce.  And what I have here, my dear, is a venison bone.  We are not supposed to hunt in the woods, but what with the higher taxes, we have to cut corners here and there.  We charge the same price for a bowl of soup with more water because it costs us the same to make it with more water as it was to make it before that woman . . . never mind.”  Mistress Caffivi grew very red in the face.  “But, we have very few vegetables, so dried beans go very nicely and make the soup look fuller.  In the autumn, of course, we will have plenty of fresh vegetables and less meat, but the soup will probably be more.  We have a hard time of it, Roglia, yes we do.  However, I am thankful to say that we still keep a decent house.”

~ Alicia

There they are!  I do like snippets.  Please enjoy!

Thanks for reading and God bless,

Snippets from Alicia

So, Kiri Liz has asked me to put some snippets up from Alicia, and I am going to do just that now.

Supper over, I retired to my own chambers and summoned the Lord of Fer and his sons.  I had changed my mind about how to rid the palace of them.

            The lord and his sons entered hesitantly, but I waved them closer and said some trivial nice words to them.

            “Your Highness, may I say again, that is, I have never, er, it is such a pleasure . . .” the Lord of Fer stuttered.

            I flicked my hand at him to silence him, and he snapped his mouth shut most satisfactorily.  “Perhaps you have wondered why you have been summoned,” I said.  “I wish to question you concerning your motives in coming to the royal palace.”

            “Why, we, we only meant to pay our respects to the king,” said the lord with a nervous look at his sons.

            “I might as well tell you now that your wife and daughter are lying in a drug-induced sleep in their guest chamber.  I myself have bestowed the drug that caused the sleep, although I seek no quarrel with you.”  I leaned back in my fine chair and enjoyed the uneasy and nervous expressions that sped across their faces.

            “I repeat, I seek no quarrel with you.  I am merely trying to protect my brother, King Calius.  He is young, and your daughter was a bit distracting to him.  I want you to leave the court tomorrow morning, as the drug will not be fully worn away until then.  Also, I will bestow upon you, my Lord of Fer, fifty golden flens if you will keep your daughter out of my brother’s way until he is wed.”

            The Lord of Fer looked as if he would fall over in surprise.  At that moment I realized that his motive in coming to the palace was perfectly innocent.  I knew that I still had to rid myself of the whole family.  Calius was still at the palace, and I could not get him far enough away from Ezelan to please me.

            I had Calla measure out fifty gold flens to the lord, who gave them into the hand of Alfieri, the older son.  Alfieri gave me such a look of hatred that I was hard put to keep from having him beheaded on the spot.  That I should cast such a slur on his sister was unthinkable to him, I suspect.  Well, he was not accustomed to the rather tiring business of protecting a younger brother from annoying females, so I tried to ignore the look.

~ Alicia

Although he was not the king, Uncle Mieras had the best chambers in the castle.  The finest set of doors, which Father had ordered expressly for the castle, were at the entrance to the rooms.  I loved those doors, for they were carved all over with fine hunting scenes featuring members of our family as the hunters.  Even Calius and I were represented as small children on that door.

            Bruno opened them with a flourish and I took a deep breath and strode through them.  Uncle Mieras was seated at his breakfast, and he beckoned me to the table as I entered.  “Little Impertinence,” he laughed.  “I want you to apologize to Rachelle today.  Oho,” he added, thinking that I was going to deny having done anything to Rachelle, which I was not. “I know exactly what you did.  Always the clever one, are you not?”

            “More clever than some,” I said with a shrug, annoyed that he had called me there merely to make sport.

            “Rachelle is a nasty little beast,” he said gracelessly.  “She is my granddaughter, though, and I wish you would not but her to sleep.  It cannot possibly be good for her health.”

            “No, Uncle, but it is good for mine.  My peace of mind is somewhat limited when I am around her, as she is such a . . . an incorrigible child.”

            “Yes, that she is,” said Uncle Mieras, with a raspy, throaty chuckle that made me want to flee the room.  “Well, well, but if you do try any more of your tricks, I will make you pay, and that is a promise.  I always keep my word.  Now, be off with you.”

~ Alicia

“Quickly,” I gasped to the guard that grabbed my mount’s bridle.  “Carry Calla inside.”

            They scurried about helplessly, helping the ladies of our party off the horses, leading us around, and tripping over several ladies who had not accompanied us but came out to see what the ruckus meant.  Lady Katarina, a sharp-faced woman of forty or so softened when she saw Calla and Elgaro, for she was their aunt.  She helped Elgaro as he struggled to carry the raving Calla all by himself.

            Such pain and suffering flourished all around us.  I finally snapped beneath the weight of what I was seeing and began sobbing heartily.  Bruno wriggled under my arms and clasped his own arms around my waist.

            “Don’t cry, your Highness,” he whispered up to me.  “Lady Calla is going to heal, I know it!”

            “Bruno! Bruno!” I wailed.  “If Calla dies what shall I do?”  No one should have been surprised to hear my lament.  Everyone knew that Calla was my best friend.

            Nevertheless, a snort of annoyance reached my ear, and the words, “No decorum,” stabbed my very heart.  Siladra stood behind Bruno, her face wrinkled in disgust at my outburst.  I wanted to have her strung up by her fingers at that moment until she wailed for mercy.  No decorum!  Our knights had been slain, our ladies taken, my friend was raving with fever, and I was criticized for not displaying enough decorum.

~ Alicia

Thanks for reading, and God bless,