This week, we're welcoming author Rosemary Morris, whose novel FAR BEYOND RUBIES is set in England's early 18th century during Queen Anne Stuart's reign. Join us on Sunday, when the author will offer a free copy of the book to a lucky blog visitor. Here's the blurb:
When Gervaise sees Juliana for the first time, he recognises
her, but not from this lifetime…
Set in England, in 1706,
during Queen Anne Stuart’s reign, Far Beyond Rubies begins when William,
Baron Kemp, Juliana’s half-brother, claims she and her young sister, Henrietta,
are bastards. Spirited Juliana is determined to prove the allegation is false,
and that she is the rightful heiress to Riverside, a great estate.
On his way to deliver a letter to William, Gervaise Seymour
sees Juliana for the first time at the grounds of her family home. The sight of
her draws him back to India. When “her form changed to one he knew
intimately—but not in this lifetime,” Gervaise knows he would do everything in
his power to protect her.
Although Juliana and Gervaise are attracted to each other,
they have not been formally introduced and assume they will never meet again.
However, when Juliana flees from home, and is on her way to London, she
encounters quixotic Gervaise at an inn. Circumstances force Juliana to accept
his generous help. After Juliana’s life becomes irrevocably tangled with his,
she discovers all is not as it seems. Yet, she cannot believe ill of him for,
despite his exotic background, he behaves with scrupulous propriety, while
trying to help her find evidence to prove she and her sister are legitimate
Far Above Rubies has received five star reviews, one of which is as follows:-
“Hot Hero,
Great Research, Touch of the Exotic,
24 Mar 2013
**An Excerpt from Far Beyond Rubies **
Chapter One
1706
“Bastards, Juliana! You and your sister are
bastards.”
Aghast, Juliana stared at William,
her older half-brother, although, not for a moment did she believe his shocking
allegation.
It hurt her to confront William
without their father at her side. At the beginning of April, she and Father
were as comfortable as ever in his London house. Now, a month later, upon her return
to her childhood home, Riverside House, set amongst the rolling landscape of
Hertfordshire, his body already lay entombed in the family crypt next to her
mother’s remains. Would there ever be a day when she did not mourn him? A day
when she did not weep over his loss?
A cold light burned in the depths of
William’s pebble-hard eyes.
Juliana straightened her neck. She
would not bow her head, thus giving him the satisfaction of revealing her inner
turmoil.
William cleared his throat. His eyes
gleamed. “Did you not know you and your sister were born on the wrong side of
the blanket?”
Anger welled up in her. “You lie.
How dare you make such a claim?”
Hands clasped on his plump knees,
William ignored her protestation. “You now know the truth about your whore of a
mother,” he gloated.
Well, she knew what William claimed,
but did not believe him. “You are wicked to speak thus. My mother always
treated you kindly.”
“As ever, you are a haughty piece.”
William’s broad nostrils flared. Anger sparked in his eyes. “My dear sister,
remember the adage: Pride goeth before a
fall, however, do not look so worried. I shall not cast you out without the
means to support yourself.” William rang the silver handbell. When a lackey
clad in blue and gold livery answered its summons, he ordered the man to pour a
glass of wine.
Juliana watched William raise the
crystal glass to his lips. What did he mean? How could she maintain herself and
her sister? She had not been brought up to earn a living.
She looked away from her half-brother
to glance around the closet, the small, elegantly furnished room in which she
kept her valuables and conducted her private correspondence before her father’s
death. Now it seemed, William, the seventh Baron Kemp, and his wife, Sophia,
had sought to obliterate every trace of her by refurbishing the closet. Where
were her books and her embroidery frame? Where was Mother’s portrait?
Rage burned in the pit of her
stomach while she looked around her former domain. Juliana wanted to claw
William’s fat cheeks. It would please her to hurt him as he was hurting her.
No, that wish was both childish and unchristian. She must use her intelligence
to defeat him.
At least her family portrait—in
which her late mother sat in front of Father, and she and William, dressed in
their finest clothes, stood on either side of Mother—remained in place. One of
her father’s hands rested on her pretty mother’s shoulder, the other on the
back of the chair. A handsome man, she thought—while admiring his relaxed
posture and frank expression, both of which depicted a man at his ease.
At the age of five, she already had
resembled Mother when Godfrey Kneller painted her family in 1693. They both had
large dark eyes and a riot of black curls, as well as fair complexions tinged
with the colour of wild roses on their cheeks. She touched her narrow, finely
sculpted nose. Judging by the portraits, she inherited her straight nose, oval
face, and determined jaw from Father.
Her hands trembled. After Father
died, she knew life would never be the same again. Yet nothing had prepared her
for what would follow.
Today, when she first stepped into
the spacious hall, it seemed as though she had also stepped over an invisible
threshold. From being a beloved daughter of the house, she had become her
half-brother’s pensioner. Knowing William and Sophia’s miserly natures, she
doubted they would deal kindly with her. Yet she could not have anticipated
William’s appalling accusation of illegitimacy, and his arrangement—whatever it
might be—for her to earn her living.
The lackey served William with
another glass of wine.
William jerked his head at the man.
“Go.”
Her head still held high, Juliana
looked at tall, fleshy William. She liked him no more than he liked her.
Indeed, who would not dislike a man so parsimonious that he neither offered his
half-sister the common courtesy of either a seat or a glass of wine? Infuriated
by his gall, she clasped her hands tighter, trying to contain her anger and
keep her face impassive. She shivered. Today, when she alighted from the coach,
rain soaked her clothes. On such a wet, grey day, why did no fire blaze in the
hearth? Here, in the closet, it was scarcely warmer than outdoors. She clenched
her hands to stop them trembling and imagined the heart of the house had died
with Father.
“You shall put your fine education,
which our father boasted of, to good use,” William gloated. “You shall be a
teacher at a school in Bath.”
Fury flooded Juliana’s chilled body.
“Shall I?”
“Yes. Our father saw fit for you to
have an education far beyond your needs. You are more than qualified to teach
young ladies.”
“Beyond my needs? Father admired
Good Queen Bess and other learned ladies of her reign. He deplored Queen Anne’s
lack of education. Our father decided no daughter of his would be as ignorant
as Her Majesty and her late sister, Queen Mary.”
The purple-red colour of William’s
cheeks deepened. “Enough! I despise over-educated women.”
She stared at him. Undoubtedly his
mean-minded wife had influenced him. Sophia was jealous because her own
schooling comprised of only simple figuring, reading, and writing learned at
her mother’s knee, whereas Juliana benefited both from the tutors her tolerant
father, the sixth baron, had engaged, and her father’s personal tuition.
William interrupted her thoughts.
“You have no claim on me. Moreover, our father left you naught in his will. To
make matters worse the estate is so neglected, I cannot afford—”
“Cannot afford,” she broke in, outraged.
“What nonsense is this? I have lived here for most of my life. Father
encouraged me to familiarise myself with Riverside estate. I know every detail
of it. Father even encouraged me to examine the accounts. I assure you
everything is in perfect order, and the estate is profitable.” Scornfully, she
assessed the poor quality of William’s black broadcloth coat and breeches. “You
are a wealthy man. Besides the income from the Kemp estates, you have the
revenues from those you inherited from your mother, God rest her soul. You
could bear the expense of half a dozen siblings.” She glared at him. “I shall
ask nothing for myself, but what of my sister?”
Despite her pride, Juliana’s heart
pounded with fear for Henrietta. Although she cared little for William, who had
rarely spoken a kind word to her, she adored her eight-year-old sister. She
would do all in her power to care for and protect the child.
While she waited for William’s
answer, she thought how different their lives would have been if, when she was
ten-years-old, Mother had not died after giving birth to Henrietta. Although
she should not question the will of God, sometimes it was almost impossible not
to. William shifted in his seat. The brass buttons of his waistcoat strained in
the buttonholes due to the pressure of his sizeable girth. Juliana wrinkled her
nose. Unlike their fastidious father, her half-brother did not bathe regularly.
In fact, he reeked of stale perspiration, partially masked by musky perfume
which nauseated her.
“Henrietta shall go to school.”
William averted his eyes from her. “After all, I am a generous man. I shall pay
for her education. She may think herself fortunate. I am under no obligation to
support her.”
Juliana did not doubt he would send
Henrietta to a school which charged the smallest possible fees, one which
skimped on good food—a school at which clever Henrietta would learn little.
William sipped his wine. Did he want
her to cry? If so, he would be disappointed. She would no more do so now than
when she was a child, when he pinched her or pulled her hair out of jealous
spite because he believed Father favoured her. Yet William never had any reason
to envy her because Father had told her he loved William as much as he loved
her and Henrietta.
How heartless her half-brother and
his wife were. When Father died, they ordered her to remain in London, and at
the time of Henrietta’s greatest need, confined her to Riverside House. For the
first time since their marriage two years earlier, William and Sophia had returned
to Riverside. Now, William’s cruel plan to send Henrietta away from home
astonished her.
“Pay attention, Juliana!”
“I am all attention. You told me you
will send Henrietta to school,” Juliana said, jerked from her still raw grief
by outrage, yet determined not to make a fool of herself by pleading with him.
“Be good enough to excuse me, I must see Henrietta. Where is she?”
“I have no
patience with the snivelling brat. On my orders, she is not allowed out of the
nursery.”
Juliana’s dislike of William flamed
like a live coal. She could not endure the unreasonable fool’s behaviour for
another moment. The sight of Father’s favourite gold ring, set with a diamond,
on the puffy finger of William’s right hand, brought a lump to her throat. The
diamond, of the finest quality, caught the light, displaying the colours of the
rainbow. She coughed to check rising emotion. “I am going to the nursery.”
William raised his hand. “Grant me a
moment more of your time.” He smirked. “Those of your clothes my lady wife
deems suitable for your new position are in her tirewoman’s chamber, where you
will sleep tonight.”
So, Sophia had appropriated her
silks and satins, velvets and furs, before relegating her to a servant’s bed!
An outraged tremor ran through
Juliana. More than likely, instead of the large bedchamber reserved for the
mistress, Sophia had moved into the smaller, more comfortable one she, Juliana,
had always slept in; the one adjoining the large bedchamber traditionally used
by the Master of Riverside. The thought of William sleeping in her courtly
father’s bed intensified her grief. Never again would Father summon her in the
morning to partake of hot chocolate and read to him while he lay abed, or
while, on cold days, she sat snuggled up on the large wingchair by the fire.
“You may go, Juliana. “How dare
William dismiss her as though she were a servant?
She regarded William with acute
distaste, but mindful of her training in the ways of society, Juliana curtsied
before she straightened her back, hands clenched at her side to control her
impotent wrath. After she withdrew, she hurried not to the nursery, but to the
closet which had been her father’s.
Without hesitation, Juliana opened a
drawer and then pressed a knob at the back which opened a secret drawer in a
lacquered cabinet. Smiling, she removed a drawstring purse bulging with gold
coins. Juliana sank onto a chair. Furious with William, she considered her
situation. Until now, she took Riverside House—with its pleasure gardens,
fruitful orchards, outbuildings, stables, and home farm—for granted, as she did
the fertile acres encompassing villages and tenant farms.
Why did Father will the estate—which
her maternal grandfather settled on Mother and she left to Father—to William?
Deep in thought, she frowned. Why, in spite of his promises not to do so, did
Father appoint William to be not only her own, but also Henrietta’s guardian?
Despite her love for Father, resentment stirred deep within her. She stifled
it. Throughout his life, her father’s word was always as good as his bond. Now,
although broken promises were his only legacy, he would not have failed her
without good reason. But what could the reason be?
She frowned. Notwithstanding
William’s words, Juliana believed she and Henrietta were legitimate. No lady as
virtuous as her mother would have lived in sin with any gentleman. She cupped
her chin in her hand. Bitter laughter escaped her. If William lied about that,
what else was he lying about? Yet could he have spoken the truth? Could she and
her sister be bastards? Surely not, for in that case her mother would not have
been accepted at court as her father’s wife. Would it not have been impossible
for a mistress to masquerade as a wife? Nothing made sense. If Mother had been
Father’s mistress and their daughters were illegitimate, how could Father have
acquired the right to leave the estate to William? She had been told her grandpere settled Riverside on her
mother, but was it true? What of her mother’s will? The will in which Mother
had left jewellery and other personal possessions to both her daughters? Did
Mother leave the estate to Father, or had she married him? If she had, the
property would have become Father’s. But she had been told that under the terms
of grandpere’s will, Mother’s eldest
child would inherit Riverside. Was it true?
Well, she would
not accept William’s claims. She would go to London immediately and consult
Father’s lawyer, but first she must see her sister.
Learn more about author Rosemary Morris at:
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