Another 5 Star review for HIS TEMPTING GOVERNESS! YAY!

What precisely is a bourdaloue? And why would we need one? Hmm! Secrets of the bedchamber!

Before indoor plumbing, the private matters of personal toilette were carried out in very different ways from today.

In country homes and chateaux, water was primed from a pump and carried into the house in buckets. Heated, if necessary and then carted about inside in same buckets or perhaps pitchers.

Some houses were fitted with cisterns on the roofs to catch rainwater. Make-shift showers could be had by pulling the lever to allow the water to cascade down. But yes, that water was cold.

What then of disposal of bodily wastes?

While a few who were rich, including monarchs and their families, had privy chairs, beneath those open seats were, quite frankly, pots. In country houses and chateaux disposal of waste was much the same as in the growing cities. Waste was carried to the back of the house and dumped in bins for the night soil collector to dispose of. As we see below in one cartoon, urine was often simply thrown into the streets. Open sewers were a source of disease and contamination until the later part of the 19th century.
Until then, removal of waste was done by hand. By the hands of servants or the persons themselves, bodily eliminations were carried out in chamber pots or bourdaloues.

A pot is easy enough to imagine. Here is one with a fellow inside, who presumably, is there to guide one's aim!

But what, pray tell, is a bourdaloue?

A small receptacle usually made of porcelain, these boats, if you will, were specifically made for women to urinate in. Above, at the opening of this articles one and here is another rather lovely example!

But how were they used?

While one can imagine, I thought I spice up your day and show you a few illustrations from the period! Some are paintings, other cartoons! Do enlarge to read the captions. Useful to note that these folks could and did laugh at their inconveniences. One not so hilarious cartoon is the one in which one gentleman, I use the term loosely, is relieving himself in the same room with his dinner partners!

Why do I mention any of this? Because I am finishing up THE BUTLER'S FORBIDDEN FANCY, a short Christmas story in my CHRISTMAS BELLES series, and the hero who is a butler is discussing his duties. They would include ensuring that the guests at his employer's home have sufficient pots and bourdaloues for their conveniences!

https://www.amazon.com/Cerise-DeLand/e/B0089DS2N2/

Servants run the house...and fall in love with their employers? GASP!

Find BUTLER and GOVERNESS here!

I’ve often delighted in touring English houses. In every nook and cranny, I’ve found little joys that I’ve tried to add in my novels.

Regency Town House
Brighton, England

In my fictitious Dudley Crescent that I invented for this series, Delightful Doings in Dudley Crescent, I take bits and pieces from a few houses I’ve visited in England. Most often, I reference floor plans for a house in Brighton that I recommend everyone visit. This house, officially dubbed Regency Town House, is currently being restored by volunteers who are specialists in home construction and Regency period lifestyles. They have formed a non-profit organization and promote their work in Brighton, offering tours, dinners and other entertainments to educate everyone. 

When I last visited, this group was involved in discovering the original paint colors on the walls, ceilings and fittings. Here I show you the intricate design on drawing room shutters. Each house in Brunswick Square originally sold in the 1820s for approximately three thousand pounds. This did not include cost of such items as chandeliers, elaborate moldings, draperies or furnishings. A buyer could expect to purchase his or her own embellishments, according to his means, to make the house a home.

Butler's Wine Cellar,
Brighton England

When completed, a townhouse would be home not only to the owners’ family but also a team of servants. In this Brighton home, for example, servants could enter the house from the front street with steps down to the basement. There the housekeeper had her spacious room, the butler his wine cellar, the servants their dining room, an exit to the center kitchen garden and the servants’ privy! From the center hall in the basement, servants waited upon their masters upstairs accessing their own staircase. This rough-hewn wooden set of steps was narrow and lit only by one window. Near this staircase is the kitchen, a wide expanse with cupboards, a glass ceiling and a huge fireplace. Maids slept in an alcove in the kitchen and footman slept on the cold stone floor. From the kitchen, one could exit to the mews.

Shutter decor
Regency Town House,
Brighton, England

While my Dudley Crescent townhouses most nearly resemble the Brunswick Square Brighton townhouses, they haves similarities to the Royal Crescent in Bath and to those in Earl’s Court in London. A few similarities also exist with architect Sir John Soanes’ house in London. Do visit this house when you are there next. Wonders abound, especially his device for hanging and displaying his precious collection of paintings. 

Door Decor
Syon House,
London, England

Townhouses showed the owners’ wealth and status. These homes often rivaled the nobles’ main country homes and their London residences in quality and appointments. Owners brought in sculptures, paintings and furnishings and even built little libraries. Whether in London or in smaller cities and towns, the different layouts and styles offer a treasure trove for a happy tourist!

Noting how Belle, my heroine in HIS TEMPTING GOVERNESS, hid her documents in secret drawers, I will tell you that the cabinetmaker acclaimed for this was George Hepplewhite. An Englishman, he crafted desks and other types of cabinetry with hidden compartments. His work, often imitated by other lesser known craftsmen, was popular. Belle’s family could have owned quite a few pieces that resembled his style.

Kentish Chronicle, August 4, 1820

I will say as an aside that the auction of Belle’s house was a usual phenomenon. Numerous advertisements appeared daily in newspapers, detailing the auction of houses and contents. Some were estates owned by titled men and women, others had been those of tradesmen or those who had gone bankrupt. Contents up to bid could include everything in the house! Auctions were a means for many families to survive financial ruin.
Be sure to pre-order HIS TEMPTING GOVERNESS now for half price! After release, it will be $3.99!  BUY HERE!

How well were servants paid? How did they live? And why can't they fall in love with their employers?

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 The Regency period imparted very strict social rules on the different classes. Mixing was not done. Social ostracism for those who reached down...or those who reached too far up, was the result. But in many cases, the relationships survived. In the case, for example of one of Victoria's uncles who married a Catholic lady. beneath his station, he survived. And with Victoria's help, the lady was finally received at court. Such reception also helped Prince Albert be received as the superior he was.

The greater problems for servants were a general lack of education and lack of training in the finite terms of etiquette and polite discourse. As Winston Churchill once said, and I paraphrase, the art of conversation is what he cultivated when he had tea with his mother. (She, by the way, was American heiress Jenny, Lady Randolph Churchill.)

Servants led very regimented lives, dictated by the hard work they did. Maids slept in cubby holes in the kitchen or upstairs in the cold rafters. Footmen could find themselves having to bed down on the hard cold kitchen tiles. Baths were sponge baths. The privy was in the central yard and often, none to private!

Book #1 Out now!

Wages were particularly poor. Why? Because general guidelines published for heads of households declared that wages and number of servants should be deterimined by general income. That does not seem out of line with our current thinking about cost control. But when you learn that they recommended a certain number of servants for a special income, you see that the rule of thumb was to hire many servants and pay as little as possible. See my list here!
I hope you will enjoy all 3 of my DELIGHTFUL DOINGS IN DUDLEY CRESCENT and learn how a few servants managed to fall in love with aristocrats...and their love survived the social rules!

HIS NAUGHTY MAIDout in July!

Travels with Cerise, TV, research trips and scullery maids!

Have you watched the BBC/Netflix series Bodyguard? If so, you've seen the Home Secretary pull up to the home of the Prime Minister.

Later they ID it as Chequers, the home once of Winston Churchill, now the PM's.

Well! This one in the show is not the real Chequers! No!

It's Ham House, a marvelous 17th century darkly gorgeous brick home in suburb of London along the Thames! Built for the Dysarts, this home is a wonderful example of Stuart, early Georgian architecture and a wonderful place to visit.

The interior is rich with black walnut walls and tiled floors of many colors. Done in parquet designs too. Many of the furnishings are of the period, too, including a Queen's Bedchamber done in rich reds and gold.

One aspect of touring the house and kitchen gardens was for me the informative plaques describing servants' duties. Here for you is Mary Hobley's. Mary was a scullery maid. Do read about her work, her pay and her superiors.

What to eat? How? When in Rome, Paris or London, partaking of dinner parties was a ritual fit to burst your buttons! European dining rooms that inspire!

Formal Dining Room at Malmaison where Josephine entertained
before and after Napoleon divorced her.

 If you were invited to a dinner party in the nineteenth century, you would have to be on your manners and either starving or terribly polite!

Why?

The meal was hours-long. The service slow and measured. The servants ready to deliver your every need. And the portions to the numerous courses were hearty.

Here are a few of my pictures of houses and dining rooms I adore. In them, kings and queens, emperors and generals ate, laughed and decided the fate of millions of others.
Shall we talk about an average evening and the menu?

Oh, let's!

First, do let out your corset an inch. You're going to need the room to breathe.
Second, roll back your long gloves, darling. No getting those dirty. Just put them in your lap after you've been assisted in your chair by a footman.
Third, remember to sit ramrod straight as your third governess taught you and please do not crush your bustle!
Fourth, you should know which fork or spoon to begin with. Your fourth governess taught you that, remember? Yes, that's right, the soup spoon is the big bowled one.
Remember your nanny's instructions about soup? "Like a ship upon the sea, I scoop my soup away from me!" Good.
That other one above your serving plate? It's for the cream, or shall we say, the ice, later. Hmm. Right.
Fish fork? Tiny, ugly thing. Unmistakeable.
Dinner fork, you'll know right off. Knife too.
Butter knife, ditto.

Now as we begin remember we speak only to the one gentleman on our right. He gets to chat you up for half the meal. If he has not cultivated the art of conversation at teatime with his granny, you must pick up his slack. He needs his bit of talk and you are his to enchant or vice versa, if he is lacking. This means you may well need to be well versed in botany, architecture or archeology, bugs, worms or coal mining. While it is best not to display an understanding of stocks and bonds, it is useful (in your future life as a duchess, etc etc.) to understand farming, goats and sheep, sale thereof, grassland availability on your property, weather patterns. All of this helps immensely when in need of sound dinner conversation.

On to the menu.
First Service:
   Potages (Soup) 
      For example: Consomme or  Puree
   Poisson (Fish)
      Any type: roasted, grilled, sauteed, fried or souped
   Entrees:
      Chicken, Beef or Lamb in any cut or form
   Larger Service:
       Venison
        Beef roast, etc
Second Service:
     Roti:
         Vegetable with meat, fish, protein
     Entremets:
          Salad
           Fruit
           Gateau of fruit (baked, custard, etc with fruit)
      Cheese      
Now you can see that you have eaten your way through your corset and volunteer to walk home! The meal was truly heavy. Furthermore, we have now learned that many of the well-to-do in this era suffered from obesity, too few vegetables in their diet and too much protein. The added sugar in desserts did not help make them any healthier. To be so, one had to be selective in portions and in the types of foods consumed.
       As for me, I am happy to have access to fresh fruits and vegetables, fresher meals and fish, all of which is deemed safe before it is stocked in our groceries!

(And yes, all of these photographs are mine!)

Napoleon and Josephine's gold plate, minted for him at Sevres China Factory and given to Josephine's son,
Eugene after her death. Thereafter it was owned by a family in Russia until recently when the French Government
bought it back to display here.

Dining room in Palais Imperial at Compiegne, France set for Emperor Napoleon III and his wife.

A bit different, oui? The servants' dining hall in Vaux le Vicomte south of Paris!

Vive la difference! This is the owners' dining room (set with only half a table) in Vaux le Vicomte!

The Pump Room in Bath, England!
Do go for a full cream tea, music, atmosphere and warm mineral water from the spring!

True, false? What's in your historical? #Regency facts! Cerise reveals those in HER BEGUILING BUTLER!

HER BEGUILING BUTLER

AMAZON   ARe   NOOK   KOBO

Say you like historicals and you often wonder what's true and what isn't?
I can't speak for other authors, but I do desperately try to bring you The Real Stuff.

For example, what's real in HER BEGUILING BUTLER?

1. You see a date at the beginning of the book, January 17, 1820.
Why?
Because when I plotted the book, I wanted to note precisely when GEORGE III (he of the American Revolution!) died and what happened.
So I had to work backwards from that.
Yes. You need to read the book to learn how and when the news reached London!

2. The Prince of Wales is not considered a fine fellow by most people in the novel.
Is that true?
Yes. Prinny, by the time of his ascent to his father's throne (not official by the way until a year later at his coronation) was considered a spendthrift and profligate. He'd had so many mistresses and appealed to Parliament to spend so much on his homes and his clothes (as well as other debts), many in the Realm were not happy.
In fact, they rather liked old George, his father.

3. Lady Ranford is being considered by the courts to assume a title on her own.

Is that possible for a woman to inherit a title in her own right?

Yes. And hopefully you'll read the book to learn how that's done!

4. The chiming watch piece that Finnley carries around with him to make certain the house runs on time was a real time piece. I did not invent it.

It was delicately made by Ferdinand Berthoud. His work was very popular, aside from being very expensive.

5. The mourning practices for King George III that most noblemen observed did indeed happen.

What sorts of observances did they  have to employ?

Ah. Do read the book for a description!

6.  Does Dudley Crescent exist?

No. I made it up!  I also made up the man who was given the land by Charles II!

So what is the picture on the front cover of the novel?

Tell me what that stock photo is here in a message and I will send you a copy of RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE!

Excerpt, HER BEGUILING BUTLER! Cerise's newest #Regency More fun upstairs, downstairs!

HER BEGUILING BUTLER, #1 in series about naughty servants and their delightful masters and mistresses!

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KOBO:  https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/her-beguiling-butler

BLURB:

   The lovely widow at Number Ten Dudley Crescent hopes to lead a merry life without any husband to replace the elderly one she recently buried. Yet Lady Ranford finds herself in a pickle. Her new butler, Finnley, is not only the most obstinate man she’s ever met, but also an enigma.

   She’s never been lured to naughtiness with a man. Heaven knows, she certainly shouldn’t fantasize about the tall, dark, scowling creature who runs her household like his finely tuned pocket watch.

   But she can’t help herself. She needs to taste him—or dismiss him.

Finnley, poor fellow, has a few risqué dreams of his own about how he’d like to handle the delectable widow. Alone in his rooms, he tries to deny how her humor riddles his mind and how her beauty steals his breath away.

   None of his solutions are proper.

   All of his desires are quite…dear me…scandalous.

   But what’s a butler to do when the very life of his beloved employer is at stake? And he cannot control his need to protect her and…ahem…bed her?

Need a Nibble of HER BEGUILING BUTLER?  Copyright 2015, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.

“What is your background, Finnley?”

He frowned. Why would she ask? His cover was superb. His acting, excellent.

“Ah, ah.” She waved a forefinger in front of him. “No prevarications, sir.”

He shot ramrod straight. “I told you of my past. You have my reference.”

She inched closer to him, so near he could see the purple rays in the glory of her velvet eyes. “I do, dear Finnley. But why do you speak with such crisp precision? Why do you command me with your very presence? Your power?”

“Ma’am?”  Was that his voice that sounded like an echo of his own? She should not undo him. But she did.

“Wallace Finnley. You have education and breeding. I can tell. Do you know how?”

He shook his head, her nearness a magnet to his body, his soul. Her lips, his only lure.

“For one thing, you own that very fine, very French Ferdinand Berthoud pocket watch. My great-uncle owned one similar.” She dropped her eyes toward the point on his chest where he kept his treasure. “I can hear the delicate chimes when it rings every quarter hour.”

He should have left it in his rooms. But it was the dearest memento he owned from his grandfather. Besides, he ran his daily duties by the precision of it. “I cannot part with it. It keeps me on task.”

“It does. I see it.”

“May I go now?”

“No. Certainly not. I would learn more. You say you come from Yorkshire. But I detect no hint of it in your pronunciation. You went to school. Some fine institution that weaned you from your native speech. Where?”

Good god. She was perceptive. He set his jaw. He’d not reveal his year at Edinburgh. He never told anyone of that, he’d hated it so. “The Army was my schooling. Taught me responsibility.”

“Your rank?”

“Captain.”

She smiled at him, her face around her eyes crinkling in appreciation. “So then your family purchased a commission for you?”

My father gave me nothing of value. “I ran away. Began as a recruit.”

“Noble of you.”

“Necessary, ma’am.” He shook his head, thinking them done, moving to rise.

She caught his hand. “A moment, Finnley. There is more to your story. From your time in the Army, I see then when and how you acquired your demeanor with those under your command.”

He wished to escape her touch and her sound perception. “The Army gave me a good education.”

“And war is a demanding teacher,” she concluded.

“It was. I wish to never fight again.”

“Nor do any of us. My brother died. At Waterloo.”

He schooled himself to remain placid. Her brother had been his best friend. What he did here for Alicia was as much for her as for Jerome.

“I find it intriguing, dear Finnley, that with such rank in the military, you now offer yourself in domestic service.”

Her statement, he knew, was a question and he had to avoid the whole answer of his origins. “Being a butler is an honorable occupation.”

She fell back to her cushions, her hand dropping and freeing him of her hold.  Her expression told him she was dismayed with his obstinate ways.

He stepped backward and rubbed his wrist.

She stared at him, clear-eyed and assured. “Finnley, I will be forthright. I look into your endearing blue eyes and can see that when you speak truth to me, your pupils darken and enlarge.”

What?

“And when you lie to me, your pupils constrict and your body tightens like a drum.”

Well, damn. Foiled by my eyes?

Once more, she took his hand and put his open palm to her soft cheek. “Might you care for me, Finnley?”

Might? There was no might.

“I see in your eyes that you do,” she whispered. “Tell me who you really are, dear sir. And then we can begin again. Anew.”

AUTHOR BIO :

   An author acclaimed for her eloquence and scintillating tales of romance and suspense, Cerise DeLand writes historical and contemporary novels with spice and charm. Visit http://www.cerisedeland.com

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Need a nibble of HER BEGUILING BUTLER? Of course you do! Cerise DeLand's charming servants #1 in Series out now!

 I'd like a butler, please. Especially one like Mr. Finnley. Tall, dark, handsome, mysterious and oh, so obliging!
He's out everywhere and I will get you the links. In the meantime, here is the AMAZON link:
http://www.amazon.com/Her-Beguiling-Butler-Delightful-Crescent-ebook/dp/B0135ZLZAU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1438449574&sr=8-1&keywords=Her+Beguiling+butler

He is the first in a series about delightful, impertient servants in Dudley Crescent, London. Others to come include a FAB.U.LOUS group created last month by so many readers who came to a FB Party I gave with my buddies.

Look for them in coming months.

In the meantime?

Here's your nibble:
Copyright 2015, Cerise DeLand.

She should not undo him. But she did.

“Wallace Finnley. You have education and breeding. I can tell. Do you know how?”

He shook his head, her nearness a magnet to his body, his soul. Her lips, his only lure.

“For one thing, you own that very fine, very French Ferdinand Berthoud pocket watch. My great-uncle owned one similar.” She dropped her eyes toward the point on his chest where he kept his treasure. “I can hear the delicate chimes when it rings every quarter hour.”

He should have left it in his rooms. But it was the dearest memento he owned from his grandfather. Besides, he ran his daily duties by the precision of it. “I cannot part with it. It keeps me on task.”

“It does. I see it.”

“May I go now?”

“No. Certainly not. I would learn more. You say you come from Yorkshire. But I detect no hint of it in your pronunciation. You went to school. Some fine institution that weaned you from your native speech. Where?”

Good god. She was perceptive. He set his jaw. He’d not reveal his year at Edinburgh. He never told anyone of that, he’d hated it so. “The Army was my schooling. Taught me responsibility.”

“Your rank?”

“Captain.”

She smiled at him, her face around her eyes crinkling in appreciation. “So then your family purchased a commission for you?”

My father gave me nothing of value. “I ran away. Began as a recruit.”

“Noble of you.”

“Necessary, ma’am.” He shook his head, thinking them done, moving to rise.

She caught his hand. “A moment, Finnley. There is more to your story. From your time in the Army, I see then when and how you acquired your demeanor with those under your command.”

He wished to escape her touch and her sound perception. “The Army gave me a good education.”

“And war is a demanding teacher,” she concluded.

“It was. I wish to never fight again.”

“Nor do any of us. My brother died. At Waterloo.”

He schooled himself to remain placid. Her brother had been his best friend. What he did here for Alicia was as much for her as for Jerome.

“I find it intriguing, dear Finnley, that with such rank in the military, you now offer yourself in domestic service.”

Her statement, he knew, was a question and he had to avoid the whole answer of his origins. “Being a butler is an honorable occupation.”

She fell back to her cushions, her hand dropping and freeing him of her hold.  Her expression told him she was dismayed with his obstinate ways.

He stepped backward and rubbed his wrist.

She stared at him, clear-eyed and assured. “Finnley, I will be forthright. I look into your endearing blue eyes and can see that when you speak truth to me, your pupils darken and enlarge.”

What?

“And when you lie to me, your pupils constrict and your body tightens like a drum.”

Well, damn. Foiled by my eyes?

Once more, she took his hand and put his open palm to her soft cheek. “Might you care for me, Finnley?”

Might? There was no might.

“I see in your eyes that you do,” she whispered. “Tell me who you really are, dear sir.And then we can begin again. Anew.”