To Entice a Spy, a story of espionage and unrequited love, by Diane Scott Lewis

 

Spies, romance, the French Revolution and its effects on England, all mix together in intrigue in my recently released novella.

To purchase, please click HERE

When I traveled in Cornwall a few years ago, in a cozy bookshop I found a book and map of eighteenth century Truro. I set a previous novel in this town but knew I wanted to place another one there, this one a spy story. 

I planned a visit to Truro, but family medical conditions prevented it and I never got the chance to return to Cornwall.

Truro street with St. Mary's Cathedral in the background

Here is my novel's blurb:

Widowed Countess Eseld Trehearne seeks revenge for the brutal death of her female companion during a Paris riot. On her return to England, Eseld delves into espionage to defeat the French rebels. 

Baron Robert Penhale, Eseld’s childhood love, rejoins the Secret Services after his wife’s death. He’s determined to protect England from the revolution terrorizing France.

 Pierre, a  ruthless French spy, fights for the common man while disguised as an English aristocrat. He’s intent on revenge against those who oppose him.

With the spy stalking them and Robert in fear for Eseld's life, the fate of the couple verges on disaster.

Real life spymaster, William Wickham, makes a brief appearance in my novel. Wickham was a British civil servant and politician. He founded the British foreign secret service during the French Revolution. I have my hero Robert working with Wickham.

Can Eseld and Robert rekindle their love, or will rules of 'protocol' (he a mere baron and she a countess) keep them apart? Each must find their own way through heartbreak and the risk of murder that hangs over them. Is Pierre right in his demand for equal rights? Or is he just out to kill aristocrats, and seduce Eseld in the process? 

Will love be enough to mend the differences between Robert and Eseld? She wants no man to command her.

Review from Novels Alive: "The dastardly villain ramps up the suspense and is exposed during a thrilling conclusion. This sweet Regency (Georgian, actually) romance ties up all the loose ends effectively. To Entice a Spy is a delightful light romance with a dose of suspense to keep it interesting."

For more on my books, visit my website: http://www.dianescottlewis.org

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.

 

The Mysticism of Cornwall - The Cheesewring

 I had never written a historical fantasy before, but time travel has always interested me. My novel, Beyond the Fall, was my first fantasy, sending a woman from the 21st century back to the 18th c. after she explores a neglected graveyard in Cornwall, England.

Cornwall became an obsession of mine. I've set several books there and read about the mysteries attached to this portion of England. My husband I traveled to North Cornwall for the first time to research one of my historical novels. On a misty, foggy day (how appropriate) we walked on the Bodmin Moor. The first sign we encountered was a tiny one that said Cheesewring with an arrow. In those dark ages days before the internet was so readily available, we scratched our heads, wondering what this could be.

Traipsing the mysterious moor over scrubby grass, glared at by disturbed sheep, I saw a strange rock formation in the distance and insisted my husband take my picture with it. Only when we arrived home, and I researched in a book I had, did I find that this granite tor had been the Cheesewring.

 

Located on the southern edge of the Bodmin Moor, the Cheesewring, or in Cornish, Keuswask, is a geological formation on Stowe’s Hill formed by centuries of weathering—harsh winds and rain. The name is derived from the piled slabs that resemble a cheese press.

Thirty-two feet in height, the tor is top-heavy, the fifth and sixth rocks of immense size and thickness. Four lower rocks support them, all perfectly irregular, the towering formation having no lateral support as it clings to the steep hill. It’s said the formation spewed from the earth, and crystallized as tubular granite.

 In local legend, the Cheesewring is the result of a contest between a man and a giant. The giants who dwelled in the Cornish caves were angry when Christianity was first introduced to the British Islands. The Saints had invaded their land, and the largest giant Uther was sent to chase them out. The frail Saint Tue proposed a rock throwing contest. If he won, the giants had to convert to Christianity. If Uther won, the Saints would leave Cornwall.

Uther easily threw a small rock to the top of Stowe’s Hill. Tue prayed for assistance. He picked up a huge slab, and found it miraculously light. They continued throwing, stacking the stones in perfect piles. When the score was twelve each, Uther tossed a thirteenth, but it rolled down the hill. Tue picked up his fallen stone, and as he lifted it an angel appeared to carry the slab to the top of the rock pile. At seeing this, Uther conceded, and most of the giants converted to Christianity.

In a book on Arthurian Legend, it’s said that the slabs turn and twist at certain times of the year. Or when the tor hears a cock crow.

Located adjacent to the Cheesewring Quarry and surrounded by other granite formations, this landmark was threatened with destruction in the late nineteenth century by the proximity of blasting operations, but was saved as a result of local activism.

 Later, to indulge in my time travel fantasy, I wrote Beyond the Fall.

Blurb: In Cornwall, England, Tamara researches her ancestors. Among gravestones she tumbles back to 1789 in the midst of grain riots. Will she fall for the secretive farmer, Colum, or struggle to return to her own time? Highly Recommended ~ History and Women

To purchase Beyond the Fall click HERE

For more on Diane Scott Lewis and her Cornish novels:

http://www.dianescottlewis.org

Only .99, a travel through time, BEYOND THE FALL

A Cemetery in Bodmin, Cornwall inspired the idea for my Time Travel, Beyond the Fall.
Ebook on sale for .99.

Over a decade ago my husband and I visited Cornwall, England so I could research a novel. In the city of Bodmin we explored the eighteenth century courthouse and the Bodmin church, St. Petroc’s.

 

A ruin—which could have been the chapel of St. Thomas Becket from the 1300s—was next to the church were a woman in a large hat and loose gown walked through the overgrowth. When next we looked, she was gone. My husband and I laughed that perhaps she was a ghost.

 

 The church, a wonderful gothic structure, dates back to the fifteenth century. We entered the dim, cool interior, where we inspected the twelfth century Norman font, carved with eyes that are supposed to open during baptisms. The effigy of Prior Vyvyan—a Cornish bishop in the 1500s—lies on a chest, both carved from Catacleuse stone and grey marble. Fine woodwork, a rood screen and bench ends were constructed around this time.

To the side of the church was a cemetery of weathered headstones and Celtic crosses, crooked and ancient-looking in the shadows.

 Years later when I looked at the photograph my husband took, inspiration struck. What if a woman researching her ancestors poked through a neglected cemetery, moved a fallen headstone and was whisked back in time to 1789? How would a modern woman survive in the more primitive eighteenth century where women had few rights? Miners out of work, grain riots, and the French Revolution, all happened in this year. Would she be condemned as a spy, or a witch, with her strange ways and odd clothing?

 My novel, Beyond the Fall, a time travel adventure, tells that story.

 Blurb: In 2018, Tamara is dumped by her arrogant husband, travels to Cornwall, England and researches her ancestors. In a neglected cemetery, she scrapes two fallen headstones together trying to read the one beneath, faints, and wakes up in 1789, the year of The French Revolution, and grain riots in England. Young Farmer Colum Polwhele comes to her aid. Can a sassy San Francisco gal survive in this primitive time and fall for Colum, a man active in underhanded dealings or will she struggle to return to her own time?

To purchase an ebook of Beyond the Fall, click https://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Fall-Diane-Scott-Lewis-ebook/dp/B07HDFRLT4/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

 

For more information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.

 

A woman hurtled through time, Beyond the Fall

Yesterday my first time travel adventure was released. In BEYOND THE FALL, Tamara Ledbetter struggles to reorder her life after her husband leaves her for another woman.

In my extensive research of the eighteenth century for my other novels, I wondered what it would be like to take a modern woman from San Francisco, have her travel to England, fall back to 1789, and have to deal with a primitive life with few rights of her own.

Novel blurb:

Tamara Ledbetter, dumped by her arrogant husband, travels to Cornwall, England to research her ancestors. A trip first planned with her soon-to-be ex. In a neglected cemetery, she scrapes two fallen headstones together to read the one beneath, faints, and wakes up in 1789. Certain she’s caught up in a reenactment, she fast discovers she’s in the year of the French Revolution, grain riots in England, miners out of work, and she’s mistrusted by the young farmer, Colum Polwhele, who’s come to her aid. Can a sassy San Francisco gal survive in this primitive time where women have few rights? Could she fall for Colum, a man active in underhanded dealings that involve stolen grain, or will she struggle to return to her own time before danger stalks them both?

Tamara tries to make sense of her situation, thinking she's being tricked, it must be a reenactment. Here an excerpt when she's fist met Colum and he wonders why she's alone:

“I have a sister, and my father isn’t well.” Tamara sighed and wished Eva was with her now.  She glanced again at his face, and he had large turquoise eyes full of intelligence. He smelled of horse and a faint, spicy cologne. “We lost our mother three years ago.”

“My condolences. If you’re a single lady, who is protectin’ you then?” His dark eyebrows drew together. He was a good actor, she'd give him that.

“No one since...” Since her rat-bastard of a husband had run off with a slut, but she thought better of mentioning that. Her heart felt heavy for a moment, but more in irritation than sadness. “I protect myself. I’m perfectly capable.” At least she’d thought so, until a few minutes ago.

“That’s not advisable, for a woman to be on her own. Is your sister near? Do you have an abigail?” He dropped his horse’s reins, and the large animal stopped and stilled.

“My sister is across the ocean.” Tamara began to grow slightly annoyed by this farce. “And I don’t know anyone named Abigail.”

They climbed the stairs, which also looked less neglected. If there sat a cart and horse instead of her car on the hill, she’d scream.

       At the top, Tamara sucked in her breath. The car park was gone, no cars, no asphalt to park on, only a field. The nausea bubbled up once more. What was happening!

To purchase from Amazon, click HERE

For more info on me and my novels, please visit my website: dianescottlewis.org

Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.
 

A Woman's Courage - The French Revolution

In the later eighteenth century, the status-quo was ripped apart by the poor and middle class in France who demanded equal rights with the rich who were stifling them with high taxes. In 1789 the French Revolution was born with all its accompanying atrocities.

I didn’t wish to rehash the exact events—most of this novel takes place in England—but created a young woman, Lisbette “Bettina” Jonquiere, daughter of a count, who is dragged away by a trusted (she thinks) major domo to protect her from the dangers in Paris after her father’s sudden death.
Her life of luxury vanishes and she must learn to survive with only her wits and courage.

I didn’t write a fluff piece, but through thorough research, a story with all the grit and authenticity of the era. This portion takes place in my first novel, Escape the Revolution.

This blurb explains ESCAPE THE REVOLUTION (also titled The False Light and then Betrayed Countess):

Forced from France on the eve of the French Revolution, Countess Bettina Jonquiere must deliver an important package to further the royalist cause. In England, she discovers the package is full of blank papers, the address false and she’s penniless. Bettina toils in a bawdy tavern and falls in love with a man who may have murdered his wife. Tracked by ruthless revolutionaries, she must uncover the truth about her father’s murder—and her lover’s guilt—while her life is threatened.

The novel grew so huge, I had to cut the last third, beef up that part of the story, and generated a sequel. For those who enjoyed the first novel, but lamented there was no Happily Ever After, I hope you’ll read this dénouement to the story that showcases Bettina’s further trials and triumphs—and perhaps that happy ending.

Here’s the blurb for HOSTAGE TO THE REVOLUTION:

 

In 1796, ruined countess Bettina Jonquiere leaves England after the reported drowning of her lover, Everett.  In New Orleans she struggles to establish a new life for her children. Soon a ruthless Frenchman demands the money stolen by her father at the start of the French Revolution. Bettina is forced on a dangerous mission to France to recover the funds. She unravels dark family secrets, but will she find the man she lost as well?

I hope fans will enjoy both of these novels. I think readers will be satisfied with a trip through sultry New Orleans, and a France torn apart by war during the rise of Napoleon.

But most importantly, a young woman’s determination to forge a new life while reconciling with her past in a turbulent time.

To purchase HOSTAGE TO THE REVOLUTION.

Where Dragonflies Hover

Although this is a contemporary, it also has another story within it that is set in World War One.

 

 

 

Where Dragonflies Hover blurb:

Sometimes a glimpse into the past can help make sense of the future …

Everyone thinks Lexi is crazy when she falls in love with Hollingsworth House – a crumbling old Georgian mansion in Yorkshire – and nobody more so than her husband, Dylan. But there’s something very special about the place, and Lexi can sense it. 

Whilst exploring the grounds she stumbles across an old diary and, within its pages, she meets Allie – an Australian nurse working in France during the First World War.

Lexi finally realises her dream of buying Hollingsworth but her obsession with the house leaves her marriage in tatters. In the lonely nights that follow, Allie’s diary becomes Lexi’s companion, comforting her in moments of darkness and pain. And as Lexi reads, the nurse’s scandalous connection to the house is revealed …

 

Excerpt:

The late sunshine enveloped the house in a golden glow. Again, it seemed to call to her, begging for attention. A path on the left of the drive looked inviting as it meandered through a small strand of poplars. Lexi grabbed her keys, locked the car and took off to explore again. She had nothing to rush home to now, and if she got caught for trespassing, then so be it.

The overgrown pathway brought her out on the far side of the grounds near the end of a small lake. She gazed over the water towards the back of the house and noticed a paved terrace area. From there the lawn then sloped down to the water. She’d not been around the back before and fell even more in love with the property. She could imagine the serenity of sipping a cool drink on a hot summer’s day and looking out over the lake.

Lexi stepped out along the bank. A lone duck swam by, its movement serene on the glassy, dark surface. This side of the lake was in shadow from large pine trees, and she stumbled on fallen pinecones hidden in the long grass. On the opposite side of the water were some small buildings, a garage, fruit trees in early blossom, and an overgrown vegetable patch, complete with a broken, rejected-looking scarecrow.

She wandered over to a narrow shed on her left and peered through its sole, dirty window. Unable to make out much in the dimness, she walked around to the front and was surprised when she was able to pull the bolt back on the door. Why didn’t people lock things? A covered rowboat took up most of the space inside. She smiled, seeing herself rowing it on the lake. Growing more excited, Lexi edged around it to peer at the workbenches and the odd assortment of tools and useless things one found in abandoned sheds. It was like treasure hunting in an antique shop. She used to love doing that with her grandfather.

She glanced about and spied a dusty painting leaning against the wall. The scene was of a child and a brown dog. Behind the canvas were more paintings, some framed, some not. Lexi flicked through them. The ones that caught her attention she took out and set aside.

She looked for somewhere to sit and study the paintings. A small tin trunk wedged under a workbench seemed the only offering. Thinking it empty, she went to tug it out, but it remained fast.

Using both hands, she heaved it out and was showered in a puff of dust. Squatting down, she inspected the latch that was held tight with a small lock. ‘Why are you locked?’ she murmured. The shed was open to anyone passing by, yet this ugly little chest had a lock on it. The trunk was nothing special, plain and in parts rusted. No ornament or writing hinted at its use.

Intrigued, she grabbed a hammer from the workbench, but then hesitated. She had no right to open someone else’s property. Lexi closed her eyes momentarily. What was she thinking of breaking into the trunk? What am I doing? Never had she broken the law and here she was guilty of trespassing and breaking and entering! She looked around the rowboat as though expecting someone to jump out and arrest her.

Something inside urged her on. She knew she couldn’t stop now. Sucking in a deep breath, she bent and hit the lock hard. The ringing sound was loud in the quiet serenity of the garden. The metal dented and with another few solid whacks the lock gave.

Shivers of excitement tingled along her skin. Gently, she eased up the lid.

 

Pre order for just $1.99

 

Buy links:

Amazon USA

Amazon UK

Also available in Apple ibooks, etc.

 

 

 

A Witch in Medieval England - Lindsay Townsend

Witches, in a series of sketches attributed to
Pieter Breughel (or to Hieronymus Bosch)
(Source: Wikimedia Commons).

One of the difficulties of considering the situation of witches in medieval England is the sources. Most of our information comes from trials in clerical or secular courts, and often these were motivated not by fear of sorcery but by greed, spite and politics. In England some kings feared witches – or found that accusing former mistresses or wives of witchcraft was an easy way to dispose of them, much as later Anne Boleyn was accused of sorcery by her disgruntled husband Henry Tudor.

These events were partly high politics. What of the position of witches in more everyday, village settings?

One clue comes from the folklore surrounding plants. Peonies, rowan and St John’s Wort, for example, were believed to protect households from sorcery, which shows how much witches were feared. At the same time, there were those men and women, known in many part of England as ‘cunning folk,’ or ‘wise men/women,’ who were turned to for help in fortune telling, charming and healing.

In the Middle Ages in England everyone was a bit of a witch because everyone believed in magic, often as a curious blend of pagan, folk and Christian ideas. Peasants would chant the Lord’s Prayer over their penned cattle each night, ending with singing ‘Agios, Agios, Agios’ around them every evening as a piece of protective magic. A mixture of charms and prayers were used to solve all manner of problems, and ranged from curing toothache by appealing to the Lady Moon and then praying, to the Anglo-Saxon prayer-charm ordering the devil of pain to flee 3 times and give way to Christ. 

Rowan, a protection against witches.

Nobles had magic gems and amulets to protect them from evil.  A medieval  ring discovered at the Palace of Eltham, Henry VIII’s childhood home near London, was set with ruby and diamonds and carried an inscription promising the wearer luck. Merchants also had  gems and rings to protect themselves, much as people in modern times might wear a St Christopher to give them luck on a journey.  A burglar would  throw a crushed magnet over hot coals to inspire the household  to leave and let the thief work in peace. Priests would use blessings and  prayers such as the Lord’s Prayer and add a charm or two to effect an exorcism or expel illness.  Even the legends of saints have them using charms and magic to cure ills. When all sickness was seen as the result of evil, then it made sense to use ‘good’ magic to counter it.

If a man had to go to court, he might tuck a spray of mistletoe into his clothes to ensure he was not convicted. If he wished to inflame a woman’s lust, then he could slip some ants’ eggs into her bath. However, there were times when such simple ‘magic’ might not work (believe it or not) and people would seek out a recognised practitioner of magic.

To raise the dead or a demon needed a person skilled in rituals, who knew Latin, Greek, writing, astrology and fumigation and many of these necromancers were ex-priests or clerics. Some could be involved in the dangerous business of assassination by magic. In 1325 the necromancer  John of Nottingham was accused of taking money in return for killing the king by making a wax effigy of  Edward II and sticking pins into it. John was acquitted.

For love magic, however, and to inspire or stop affection, most people turned to their local ‘cunning folk’, especially the local midwife/healer or perhaps a white witch - who would use magic and witchcraft to good ends and within a Christian setting, using prayers as well as charms. These people could be both feared and revered  and were vulnerable to being accused of evil-doing if a person or animal fell sick. 

Throughout the Middle Ages good witches were mostly tolerated in England. It wasn’t until 1401 that the first act of parliament against witchcraft was passed. If a person was convicted of witchcraft, it was regarded as a form of heresy and the offender was excommunicated. In 1438, Agnes Hancock was excommunicated by a clerical court when she could not account for the meanings of some of the words she used in her love charms. The church took a dim view of love spells, feeling that they interfered with people’s free choice, but it wasn’t until the late Middle Ages or beyond that women casting such spells were threatened with burning.

If you are interested in learning about an English medieval ‘good’ witch in a fictional setting, please see The Snow Bride and its sequel,  A Summer Bewitchment.

Lindsay Townsend