A Princess In Need Of A Prince

Royal marriages rarely include love instead duty is the other four-letter word used. Most royal couples hope for some form of compatibility between the prospective bride and bridegroom. And for Princess Charlotte and the Prince of Orange, such an outcome was hoped for as well. The first meeting between the royal pair was to happen over a dinner party her father was throwing.

For the party, Charlotte donned a “violet satin, trimmed with black lace.” The gown didn’t help hide how pale she was  or her agitation. At dinner, Lord Liverpool sat on her left and to her right was the Prince of Orange. 

Charlotte described the future King William III of Netherlands as “very plain but he was so lively and animated that it quite went off…” 

After dinner and allowing the two strolling in the gallery,  an impatient Prinny drew his daughter to a corner to learn her opinion of Slender Billy. Charlotte said, “I like his manner very well, as much as I have seen it.” All her father heard was her agreement to wed the prince so he summoned the Prime Minister (actually entitled First Lord of the Treasury) Lord Liverpool and his wife who offered their felicitations, which was followed by the surprised Prince of Orange. 

It seems Slender Billy was smart than Prinny since in truth he didn’t think he impressed her much. And he hadn’t. She “thought him particularly plain and sickly in his look, his figure very slender, his manner rather hearty and boyish, but not unpleasant in a young soldier.” Not words of affection not even a stir of such feeling. In fact, Charlotte wrote, “I am persuaded I shall have a very great regard and opinion of him which perhaps is better to begin with and more likely to last than love.”

The next day, Prince William called upon her. It wasn’t a success. He informed Charlotte that she would have to spend two or three months a year in Holland when he visited his home country. 

She was devastated. The prince promised that she wouldn’t have to accompany him on his every visit and when she did, she could bring her ladies with her. 

Such a concession had to be enough for her though. That didn’t stop her anger with her father. Slender Billy was chance at freedom from her father nevertheless, the government held the position that the Princess never leave England’s shores.

On January 7 1814, Charlotte spent her eighteenth birthday by visiting her mother during the day and the evening, at a concert with her uncles, the royal dukes. 

The next two months the marriage negotiations raged. Charlotte kept informed of every detail of the negotiations by having them put in writing. Her father was a feckless man who would change anything to suit his whims and that included sending his daughter to Holland. 

A Peace Party

While the talks continued, Napoleon was defeated and all of Europe (except France of course since they lost) and their sovereigns journeyed to England, including the Tsar’s favorite sister, the Grand Duchess Catherine, to celebrate. Much like everyone else, the Grand Duchess was impressed by the Princess. She described her as “the most interesting member of the family…She is blonde, has a handsome nose, a delicious mouth and fine teeth…She is full of spirit and positive in character. She seems to have an iron will in the smallest things…Her manners are so extraordinary that they take one’s breath away… She walks up to any man, young or old, especially takes them by the hand, and shakes it with all her strength… She looks like a boy, or rather a ragamuffin.” 

That strong will the duchess noticed in Charlotte stood firm against her father and his demands of her to visit Holland after her marriage. The princess refused to give in. To irritate her father even more the Prince of Orange didn’t want her to do anything against her will. In the end, the marriage contract specified that Charlotte would not have to leave England against her will. 

While Charlotte signed the marriage contract, Prince of Orange was at Ascot, getting rip roaring drunk. He had to be sent back to London in a coach. Two days later, Charlotte attended a great banquet at Carlton House (the only state occasion she was permitted to attend). Prince William also attended and as was his habit, he got drunk. 

Charlotte was becoming disheartened by the arrangement. She learned Slender Billy’s true nature. Her impression of him changed. To her, he was a “callow, scruffy boy who could not even hold his liquor.” 

Charlotte’s yearning for freedom wasn’t enough to marry Prince William and for three solid reasons. The first was that she wished to marry another prince since Slender Billy was a “dismal prospect”. The second reason was another prince had caught her eye, a certain handsome Prince August. The third was her duty to stand by her mother who would protect her own position as heir presumptive. 

Back Away Not So Slowly

On June 16 1814, Charlotte and Prince of Orange met at Warwick House where she informed him that she’d marry him only if her mother would always be welcome in their home. William wouldn’t agree to that (the two parties hated each other thanks to European politics). She couldn’t marry him without it. 

A shocked William plead for her to think over her decision. Of course, the Whigs and her mother were happy. Prinny not so much. 

 The Princess didn’t know what awaited her.  Soon after her meeting with Billy, she and a companion called upon the Tsar and his sister, who happened to be staying at the same hotel as the Prince of Orange. During the visit, the Tsar attempted to persuade Charlotte to change her mind. She wouldn’t budge. When Charlotte was departing, the Grand Duchess Catherine sent her to the back stairs to avoid William. 

She took the stairs where a small group lingered at the foot of them. Charlotte spotted “A tall, dark, handsome officer wearing the all-white uniform of the Russian heavy cavalry. The officer turned. He was not more than twenty-four years old, but his badges signified that he was already a Lieutenant-General.” 

The handsome Lieutenant-General asked if he could assist the ladies and the princess’s companion informed him of Charlotte’s identity and asked him to see them to her carriage. He did.

The drop-dead gorgeous officer was the General Officer Commanding Cavalry of the Tsar, Prince Leopold Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld. 

Love had come for the Princess. 

Book Influence…Everyday for this #MFRW Historical Romance Author

We all know that books influence our lives. They can be the self-help books that help with various parts of our life or how-to books that can help with anything that troubles us. Those For Dummies books have certainly helped me.

But what about other books that’s purpose is to teach you, entertain you or anything else; do they have an influence in everyday life? The answer would be yes.

Throughout my life (am I sure I’m not the only one who feels this way) books have taught me life lessons, helped me see the world around me in a new way, opened my mind to something I never knew or just let me know that I wasn’t alone.

Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

One book I remember is still with me these years later and that book is A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I was just a schoolgirl who had to read the Betty Smith’s novel for school. I remember looking at the cover and thinking this book has nothing to do with me. Oh no, another book for school that I do not want to be bothered with. I rather read something else like the Sweet Valley Series I loved.

After I read the first sentence I saw a piece of me in the father and mother. John and the mother (whatever her name was) were employed to clean schools. When in the empty schools, they would play out their dreams–dreams that saw them through the hard times, dreams that would never come true but dreams that were needed in their life to get through it.

My teachers always accused me of daydreaming and I was. I was weaving stories of a place where I far away from my everyday life, far from my desk and that school. My teachers made me feel like those daydreams were wrong. That me having dreams were wrong. They told me repeatedly that my dreams of writing were stupid and would never happen.

But that book told me differently and taught me that I wasn’t going to live my life without doing everything I could to make my dreams real. That I was worthy of a dream and worthy to make it come true. As we all do.

So every day, when I write that book influences me. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn changed me. I still have the book with its aged, urine-colored pages, dusty smell, and binding that cracks if I dare lift the ugly 80s cover. So I take it out every so often, stroke the cover and place it back so nothing happens to it.

There are many more books that influence me every day, books that have made me who I am and that list is too many to list. And every person has those books that have molded them into the person they are, so what book is it for you?

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

All the money and time in the world…If

Just imagine…Oh, I would love to have all the time and money in the world. Now, what would I do with it? Boy, do I know the answer to that. This #MFRW author has thought about that question a lot.

Photo by Public Domain Pictures on Pexels.com

First, I would travel the world. Scotland, England, France, Spain, Germany, Australia, Argentina, Japan and on and on. I would have an extended visit, soaking up all the beauty. Then I would go home. My home base would a country home in Spain or France with countryside just stretching out to the horizon.

My home would be decorated as I have always wished. My bedroom would be a cozy, cushy place that cocoons me when I go to bed. I would have a library crammed with books. My office to write that overlooked my beautiful garden that hums from the bees and birds that have gathered. I would have someone cook and clean for me because first I do not want to eat my own cooking and as for cleaning, I don’t want to do that. I would share more but my dream home is my own escape and all mine.

Second, I would see that all my family had a lovely home and no stress about paying bills, paying for school or retirement. They would enjoy life.

Third, I would help people. Send kids to college, get homes for homeless, food for the hungry. I would use the money to help. Because people and animals just need a helping hand once in a while.

Photo by Jordan Benton on Pexels.com

As for time, I would spend it much as I do now. With my family and writing.

Yeah, so I don’t want much. Tell me what you would do with all the time and money in the world?

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Remember When…

I have fibromyalgia and my memory is garbage. I used to know weird facts that I couldn’t forget. I could spell any word and remember lines from any movie from just watching it once.

Now, I forget how to spell the very simple word the. I can’t recall what day it is and have struggled with many more things but I just can’t remember what all that is.

Which makes writing historical romance a difficulty when I’m trying to remember a historical fact that has flown from my mind. So I’m looking up things a great deal and repeatedly.

But I have a memory from my childhood that is my first one. In case you don’t know I am an Air Force brat. When I was about three years old, the Vietnam War had ended. And the soldiers were returning stateside. If you are old enough, you may remember that some American people treated these soldiers–let’s say badly. People spat on them, called them baby killers, and sneered at these men at the very least.

Photo by Octavio Suarez on Pexels.com

Anyway, I was in Hawaii and the men were landing at Hickman Air Force base and my family–my dad, mom, brother and I–went to welcome them home. I remember sitting on my father’s shoulders with a small American flag in my hand that I waved about with glee. A helicopter landed and downtrodden, war-weary men stepped out. They hung their heads and on each of these men’s faces was a look of pure sadness, defeat, and something that I can only describe a crushed soul. They gave a half-smile and a nod of greeting as the adults said, “welcome home” and gave them supportive cuffs on the shoulder or back.

These many years later, I can never forget those men or those looks. It was seared into me. I didn’t understand the reasons for their demeanor but I knew that they were hurt–not physically but somewhere deep inside where some many who serve this nation have packed away their memories and emotions of fighting a war.

No matter that fibromyalgia is moving around the marbles in my head, I can never forget this memory. It is a part of me. And I’m thankful for it.

What is your first memory? Come on, tell me. After you do that don’t forget to check out the other blogs taking part in the #MFRW 52 week blog challenge.

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

A Historical Romance Author’s Big Fear

full frame shot of text on wood
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Most people are scared of dogs, spiders, rats and clowns. To be honest, I don’t like clowns. They are creepy. But those common fears are not the biggest one I deal with. 

It’s embarrassing to even confess it—let alone write a post about it. But here is it is. My biggest fear is succeeding. 

What? That’s crazy. 

That’s what you’re probably saying right now. But it is the truth. It’s not because I don’t want to be a bestseller romance author whose books take up residence on reader’s keeper shelf and who can make a living writing. Oh, I do so what that more than anything. I want my books made into movies or Netflix originals or some other show. I want to spend my life writing stories that entertain both my readers and me. 

But what if that happens and I’m not really good enough. They call it imposter syndrome. Do I think I’m not worth having it. Maybe. That’s why I writing this revealing post instead of talking about clowns. This is me owning my fear and destroying its control over me. 

I read a New York Times article about Jennifer Lopez and she said in the article, “I want what I deserve.” I too want that. I want what I deserve and I’m not going to allow anyone even myself to stop that from happening. When I decided to write this, I thought I would be shaking while I type this but I’m not. I feel strong and bigger. I’m claiming my space. I’m claiming my dreams and proclaiming to the world that I will not stop. Can I do it? 

Yeah. 

It won’t be easy. I will have to fight. I will get beat. I will cry. I will get angry. I will feel defeated. I will get tired. I may lose hope some days. 

I can’t stop. I deserve this. I want this. 

Hell yeah! It’s mine. 

Now, it’s time for you to get what you deserve. Go get it. If you are ready to proclaim it then please share with me what is rightfully yours. 

And please help me and share this post with your friends. I want the world to know. I’m not hiding it anymore.  

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

On the 1! So not J. LO

high st brooklyn bridge signage mounted on blue steel post
Photo by Fancycrave.com on Pexels.com

Jennifer Lopez titled her album On the 6. She would ride the 6 train from the Bronx into the city (if not from NYC, the city is what everyone calls Manhattan). Well, I live in the city and the train that I use to ride to go everywhere was the 1 train.

At fourteen, I rode it uptown to Washington Heights to see my friends. At sixteen, I rode to 137 street to see my boyfriend. In winter, my boyfriend and I would ride the length of it from South Ferry to Van Cortlandt Park. We would ride for hours, talking and sharing secrets and deepest thoughts while I did homework or most times not.

That was all the past. When I was a different person, one I remember with both laughter, fondness, groans, and embarrassment.

Now, the person I am is a person who cannot even walk past the entrance of a train station without having a panic attack. I cannot ride the trains. I freak out. I’ve come close to blacking out. Hell, I cannot even think or talk about the trains with anxiety.

The logical side of me knows that my irrational fear is stupid. That I have nothing to fear. That I had done it hundreds, thousands of times.

My emotional side laughs in my face and I panic. My life is very different. My anxiety changed how I live my life. I do not meet up with long distant friends or attend my Romance Writers of America local chapter. I don’t take part in functions that I would have been the first to show up.

I am a person that now has to figure that I go somewhere I have to see if I have a ride back or money for a taxi. My life exists just where my feet can take me. I have sought help for it, taking prescribed medication and do therapy.

One day, maybe, I might be on the 1.

Or most likely not.

 

I could just eat it up. A Romance writer’s snack.

When I was a toddler in Hawaii, my Godsister Bonnie would feed me M&Ms.  I would put handfuls in my mouth and just let the chocolate melt until it ran from the sides of my mouth. My love affair with snacks started when I was very young.

I still love my M&Ms but I have transferred my preference to the peanut ones. I don’t buy them anymore because I will eat the whole bag in one go and that isn’t good for the hips and belly.

But that doesn’t mean that whenever I see the yellow bag that my heart doesn’t soar and I feel quite giddy that I can’t stop myself from smiling. Sometimes, I just touch the bag to get a little thrill.

1314582.1813268
Me as an M&M when my hair was blonde.

My family knows that I will go crazy for them and do not buy them. But with the birth of my grandnephew, that changed. He loves them and of course, I cannot steal candy for a four-year-old boy. That is just sinful. But my little man is a sweet boy and shares them with me but not the red ones because that is his favorite color.

But I don’t mind. I put them in my mouth and let them melt and I am in heaven.

Now it’s your turn. Share your favorite snack and why?

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Romancing History: A Romance Author’s Love of the Past

The first romance novel I had ever read was a historical.  I can tell you I was hooked. Nothing matter more to me than getting my next book. Instead of doing school work, I was reading. Luckily, I still managed to pass my classes.

So when it came to writing a novel, I—of course—had to write a historical romance. I have written a couple before I actually had my first novel, The Marriage Alliance,  published then came Claiming the Highlander. 

I have always loved history. To me, history is the way we can time-travel—experience the different lives and times. While I’m writing my novels like my medieval Highlander novels I am a clan chieftain raiding my enemies lands or I am a Scottish heroine struggling to stay alive against an evil English baron trying to kill me (my next novel The Laird’s Right, which is coming soon).

I have loved history since childhood when I would stare at my mother’s porcelain doll dressed as Marie Antoinette. My child’s imagination would transport me to 18th century France.

As I started school, I wanted to learn all about the past. The details from fashion, food to even the mundane like how they stood. I swore that I could somehow become them and once knowing the information, I naturally turned to writing.

Because I just didn’t want to know it. I wanted to lay down these characters’ I concocted so that they could exist. And history is written down to be shared. You heard of method acting well I’m a method writer.

I love traveling to the Highlands of Medieval Scotland.
And to Regency England.
And Montana Territory in 1870s.
And 16th century Scotland.

I hope you will join me on one of my travels. Sign up for my newsletter at Mageela Troche

Tell me what is one of your favorite time periods. Where would you escape?

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

The Tale of A Romance Author and her Lovebird

As a historical romance author, it is only natural that my pet is a lovebird. Boobula is a black-masked lovebird and did not bond with a partner. I am the one he bonded with. Even as I sit at my desk, writing this post, he is in his cage tweeting away because my back is toward him and he hates that.

IMG_0633

Boobula is the first bird I ever had in my life. We usually had dogs—Toy poodles (Brandy and Chocalite) and a Rottweiler (Trouble). About seven years ago, my sister-in-law and brother got me Boobula for my birthday. I think like most people I had my misgivings of the birds. I thought they were a lovey-dovey kind of bird. Well, mine is more a fighter than a lover. He has a big personality and fights with me one minute then is the loving the next. He escapes from his cage and likes to attack my cell phone. But he is the cutest feathered beast in the world. IMG_1233

And that was why I had to write him into my first Regency novel His Lady Charlie.  My heroine Lady Charlotte “Charlie” Hammersley is the proud owner of a black-masked lovebird that perches on her shoulder, just as mine does. On my cover, a lovebird is included on the female model’s shoulder (though it is a lovebird but a different type). When I told Boobula about his inclusion in the novel, he ignored me. And he still doesn’t care.

HisLadyCharlie_fullres

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Type The End Time To Celebrate

Typing The End is a great feeling. I have written—most likely a novel that has taken me months and hours of being on my computer and more hours of scrolling through Pinterest. But the end has arrived.

I am no longer writing. I have written. So comes the celebration, right.

A bottle of champagne? pexels-photo-571250.jpeg  A trip to a sandy beach?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sadly, I don’t do either one.

For my two medieval Scottish Highlander Novels,  The Marriage Alliance and Claiming the Highlander, I have celebrated their completion by doing two things.

First, I take a couple of days off. I watch TV, lay in bed, anything to rest my brain so I can recharge because I have other projects I am working on and cannot waste time. But creativity is important so I can work on my next project.

The second thing I do to celebrate is a manicure.

pexels-photo-332046.jpeg

While I am writing, I don’t bother doing my nails. So by the time I finish a manuscript my nails look like some monster’s and not the hands of a lady (as my mother and grandmother would say). When I step out of the nail salon with my nails perfectly painted, and my hands wonderfully massage, my need to is fully recharged. Then it is back to my computer to do this all over again, which will be happening soon with

Then it is back to my computer to do this all over again, which will be happening soon with The Laird’s Right and Highland Scandal. Yeah, my hands look scary and that manicure image has me drooling.

Yeah, my hands look scary. I can’t wait for my manicure.  *stares at image with longing*

Now tell me what do you plan to celebrate and how you plan to do it.

 

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…