Category: Historical Fiction

The Last Handmaid by Clare Whitfield

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I was drawn to this book for two reasons: first, it’s about Countess Erzsébet Báthory – I read about her in Sonia Velton’s The Nightingale’s Castle a few years ago and have been meaning to explore further – and also, I enjoyed Clare Whitfield’s previous novel, Poor Girls, and hoped this one would be just as good.

The Last Handmaid is set in the early 17th century and is narrated by Catalina, a young woman who finds herself alone in the world after losing first her mother and then Varga, the monk who raises her and whom she considers as close as an uncle. Rejecting Varga’s dying wish that she should become a nun and enter a convent, Catalina instead takes a job in the laundry of a castle belonging to Countess Erzsébet Báthory. No sooner has she begun to settle into her new position and make friends, her life is disrupted again when she plays a part in foiling an assassination attempt against the countess. This is the start of a close but uneasy relationship with the countess, who takes Catalina with her when she flees to Csejte Castle (now Čachtice Castle in Slovakia).

As you may know, Erzsébet Báthory – sometimes anglicised to Elizabeth Báthory – was allegedly a prolific Hungarian serial killer accused along with several of her servants of torturing and murdering hundreds of girls. She is also often said to have been an inspiration for the character of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, although there’s no direct evidence of this. In The Last Handmaid, we see Erzsébet through Catalina’s eyes, which can be frustrating at times as Catalina sees only what she wants to see and is determined that her beloved ‘Lady Erzie’ can do no wrong. It’s a good illustration of how easily people can be mistaken and how a vulnerable person who just wants to feel liked and valued can be manipulated and controlled, but still, it’s so obvious to the reader that the countess is a cruel, terrible woman that Catalina’s blindness becomes difficult to believe.

I found this book slightly different from The Nightingale’s Castle which portrayed Erzsébet more sympathetically and included some magical realism elements. This is a darker, more brutal novel and Whitfield doesn’t shy away from describing how the countess’s servants, Anna and Helena, beat and torture young women. The countess herself suffers from epilepsy, known as ‘the falling sickness’, and believes that drinking human blood is the cure. You can see where the comparisons with Dracula come from! It’s not a book for the squeamish or the faint-hearted, then. Even when Catalina begins a romantic relationship, it’s with the town executioner.

I enjoyed the book overall, apart from when I found myself losing patience with Catalina for continually making excuses for the countess and rejecting opportunities to escape and keep herself safe. I was interested to read in the author’s notes at the end of the book that she specifically chooses to write from the weakest, most vulnerable person’s perspective as they are the stories that most intrigue her. Now I need to find time to go back and read her first book, People of Abandoned Character.

Thanks to Head of Zeus for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Nightingale Hall by Rachel Burton

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I loved Rachel Burton’s The Strawberry House, which I read earlier this year, so I was looking forward to reading her new book, Nightingale Hall. Like the previous novel, this one features a house at the heart of the story.

The book begins in 1969 with a party being held at Nightingale Hall, home of the baronet Sir Charles Nightingale, to celebrate the moon landing. During the evening, Sir Charles unveils a special painting, Moonlight on Nightingale, which he had commissioned from the artist Lex Cooper for the occasion.

In 2019, art gallery assistant Rosie Lopez has recently lost her beloved grandmother, Lauren, who had been closer to her than her own mother. Beginning to sort through Lauren’s possessions in her London flat, she finds a postcard tucked inside a book. The postcard depicts a painting of a full moon rising above a large stately home. When Rosie shows it to her mother and to Claire, the manager of the art gallery, they claim never to have seen either the postcard or the painting before, but Rosie is sure they’re lying. Convinced that there must be some connection between the painting and her own family, Rosie decides to find out more.

This is a dual timeline novel, moving between Rosie in the present day and Lauren in the 1960s. Although the more interesting parts of the story happen in the 1960s sections, I found I was more invested in Rosie’s chapters, maybe because she narrates hers in the first person whereas Lauren doesn’t. I also found Rosie a very easy character to like and had a lot of sympathy for her as she tries to deal with the loss of her grandmother despite the lack of support she receives from her mother, something Rosie doesn’t quite understand. Luckily, Rosie has several good friends who help her through her grief and it was nice to see her move forward with her life, gaining the confidence to work on her own art and develop her stationery business.

The two timelines weave together very well and I enjoyed seeing the characters in both periods celebrating the moon landings 50 years apart. However, the mystery element of the book is slightly disappointing and the secrets Rosie uncovers regarding Nightingale Hall, the painting and Lex Cooper are not very shocking or surprising. I also expected the Hall itself to play a bigger part in the story. The focus is much more on relationships, romance and the various ways in which decisions made in the past can affect the future.

Of the two Rachel Burton books I read, I definitely preferred The Strawberry House as I found the plot more interesting and the setting stronger, but this one was enjoyable enough, if not entirely satisfying. I need to find time to try some of her earlier novels, which also sound interesting.

Thanks to Boldwood Books for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Royal Witch by Philippa Gregory

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It’s been years since I last read anything by Philippa Gregory, so I decided to try her latest novel, Royal Witch. It’s the story of Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, a woman who has appeared as a secondary character in other books I’ve read (including Gregory’s own The Lady of the Rivers), although this is the first one I’ve read that focuses on her specifically.

We first meet Eleanor in 1421 as a young woman of twenty arriving at Westminster Palace to become a lady-in-waiting to Jacqueline, Countess of Hainault. Jacqueline has taken refuge at the English court after being betrayed by members of her own family who have seized her lands. She is looking for help to regain them and marries Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, in the hope that he can provide the military support she needs in Hainault. Humphrey, however, is having problems in his own country – although he has been named Protector of England until his baby nephew, Henry VI, is old enough to rule, he faces opposition in government from his Beaufort rivals.

As the daughter of a minor nobleman, Eleanor arrives at court wanting nothing more than to marry well, but once she grows close to the strong and determined Jacqueline and sees what it’s possible for a woman to do, she starts to believe she should be aiming higher. She turns for help to Margery Jourdemayne, known as the Witch of Eye, but if it becomes known that Eleanor has been meddling in the dark arts, it could lead to her downfall rather than her glory.

I enjoyed Royal Witch; I love this period of history and it was good to see it through the eyes of a woman I haven’t read very much about. The events taking place in England are significant because they lead directly to the Wars of the Roses and the founding of the Tudor dynasty, but I also found Jacqueline interesting to read about – her campaign to reclaim her lands forms a big part of the first half of the novel and I kept thinking that maybe Gregory should have just written Jacqueline’s story instead of Eleanor’s! Eleanor’s own story doesn’t really start to gain momentum until halfway through the book when she sets her sights on the throne of England and begins to set her plans in motion.

Gregory often seems to enjoy making her heroines as unpleasant as possible (like Margaret Beaufort in The Red Queen); Eleanor is another example of this – she’s ambitious, vain, selfish and vindictive, with few, if any, redeeming qualities. Despite this, it’s impossible not to feel for her when she is rejected by the man she loves, Owen ap Maredudd, who chooses another woman over her, an incident which is the source of a lot of her anger and resentment in the second half of the novel. You may already know who Owen is and who he marries instead, but if not I’ll let you find out for yourself! As Eleanor plots revenge on Owen and his new lover, her outward actions become more cruel and her inner thoughts more bitter, which makes her both an entertaining narrator and quite a chilling one as well. Not even the young king is safe from her plots and machinations.

Margery Jourdemayne is another interesting character. She’s portrayed mainly as a herbalist and fortune teller who becomes caught up in Eleanor’s scheming, along with the astrologer Roger Bolingbroke, leading to accusations of witchcraft, treason and necromancy. This is the climax of the story which everything that comes before was building towards, but we have to wait a long time for it – and that’s my only real criticism of the novel; it often felt longer than it really needed to be and the earlier sections could probably have been condensed to improve the pacing. Otherwise I found this very enjoyable and I wish more authors would write about lesser known Plantagenet women rather than the Tudors!

Thanks to HarperCollins for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Arabella by Georgette Heyer – #1949Club

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This is my third and final book for this week’s 1949 Club, hosted by Simon of Stuck in a Book and Karen of Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings. Whichever year is chosen for the club, you can almost guarantee Georgette Heyer will have had a book published in that particular year – and 1949 is no exception.

The novel begins with Arabella Tallant, the eldest daughter of a Yorkshire vicar, being invited to London to stay with her godmother, Mrs Bridlington, for the season. On the way, her carriage breaks down and she seeks shelter at the nearest house, which turns out to be a hunting lodge belonging to Robert Beaumaris, one of the richest men in England. When she overhears Mr Beaumaris telling his friend that he doesn’t believe the carriage is really broken and he suspects Arabella of having her eye on his fortune, the offended Arabella impulsively decides to pretend that she’s already the heiress to a fortune of her own. She asks Beaumaris and his friend to keep this information to themselves, but when she arrives in London she’s horrified to find that the story of her great wealth is all over town…

I really enjoyed Arabella. It’s a relatively simple plot; where some of Heyer’s other books have elements of mystery or adventure or include real historical events, this one focuses mainly on the romance and although it’s easy to predict how it will end, the fun is in getting there! It helps that the hero and heroine are both so easy to like. Arabella is warm-hearted and compassionate and has been raised by her father to care about those less fortunate than herself. Beaumaris, despite his sophisticated, cynical exterior and the insensitive comment he makes during his first meeting with Arabella, also has a kind heart. He quickly sees through Arabella’s lie but instead of confronting her with it he waits for her to decide to tell him the truth herself.

Another thing that interested me (and which I found quite unusual for a Heyer novel) was the exploration of poverty and hardship, in contrast with the portrayal of upper-class Regency society. Arabella is moved by the plights of an abused climbing-boy (chimney sweep’s boy), a badly treated mongrel and a disreputable woman known as Leaky Peg, all of whom she foists – or tries to foist – onto Beaumaris, which provides most of the humour in the book! There’s also a subplot involving Arabella’s naïve, well-meaning but easily led younger brother, Bertram, who arrives in London and gets himself into trouble almost immediately. Bertram’s storyline is also quite predictable – there are a lot of similar younger brothers and cousins in Heyer’s novels! – but I didn’t mind that as I found him very endearing.

If you’re new to Heyer, I think this could be a good place to start: the story is easy to follow, the characters are charming and likeable, and it has a classic, sparkling Regency setting. It was also a great choice for my final 1949 Club book!

The Gamester by Rafael Sabatini – #1949Club

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This is my second book for this week’s 1949 Club (hosted by Karen of Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings and Simon of Stuck in a Book). I’ve loved some of Rafael Sabatini’s other novels, so I was pleased to find that he had one published in 1949. Sabatini was born in Italy to an English mother and Italian father; he was an accomplished linguist and wrote all of his novels in English even though it was actually his sixth language!

The Gamester was Sabatini’s final book, published a year before his death. It’s set in the early 18th century and tells the story of the Scottish financier and economist John Law, the Laird of Lauriston. Many people today probably haven’t heard of Law, but he was hugely important and influential in his time, establishing France’s first central bank, the Banque Générale, which issued the country’s first paper money. He also founded the Mississippi Company to manage France’s colonial trade in America. The word ‘millionaire’ was first used to describe the company shareholders who made their fortunes in what was known as the Mississippi Bubble (before it burst in 1720). You can see how his legacy still lives on today, then.

In The Gamester, Sabatini follows John Law from the time of his arrival in France in 1715. Having escaped from prison in England, after being sentenced to death for killing a man in a duel, Law has been wandering Europe for many years, making his fortune through cards and dice. Hearing of the death of King Louis XIV of France and the establishment of the regency of Philippe d’Orléans, Law sees a chance to make himself useful to the new regime and heads straight for Paris. The novel then covers his role in founding the Banque Générale and the Mississippi Company, as well as his long-running rivalry with Count Antoine-Joseph of Horn (the villain of the book).

John Law undoubtedly led a fascinating and eventful life, but I didn’t enjoy this book as much as I’d hoped to. I think Sabatini is at his best when he’s writing about fictional characters and creating his own storylines (definitely read Scaramouche if you haven’t already!) and his books about real people feel a bit dry in comparison. Although he does take some liberties with the real John Law’s character, for example involving him more heavily than he really was in the foiling of the treasonous plot known as the Cellamare Conspiracy, in general I felt he was too constrained by historical fact to make the story feel truly exciting. This is the same problem I noted with The Minion, his novel about the Overbury Affair.

There were still plenty of things that I did enjoy about the book, particularly the parts dealing with the relationship between Law and his wife, Catherine, whom he considers bitter and shrewish. It’s obvious to the reader that there’s much more to Catherine than Law sees or appreciates, but sadly his family seem to be very low on his list of priorities – he and Catherine have children but we barely see them and aren’t even told their names. When his fortunes eventually change again and he does begin to understand what’s really important in life, we can only hope it’s not too late. It’s an interesting novel, then, with a lot going on, but the focus on money, gambling, banking and dealing in stocks and shares just didn’t really appeal to me. I’ll continue to work through his novels and hope that I get on better with the next one I try.

The Witch Elm by Sally-Anne Martyn

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Midwife Melissa Hendrix has bought a house in the small English village of Heredge, ready to start a new life after being embroiled in a scandal at her previous hospital. She is also trying to escape from her ex-boyfriend who has been stalking her and she hopes he won’t be able to track her down. As she settles into her new home and job, however, she quickly discovers that things are not quite right. She can’t believe that in such a small community there are twelve women all heavily pregnant and due at the same time – and every one of them is insisting on a home birth. And why does the sinister Lucien and his Open Arms Church seem to have such a hold over everyone in the village?

In 1656, Elizabeth Wade and her parents live in the same house, Elm Tree Cottage, that Melissa will move into almost four centuries later. Elizabeth works as a servant in the household of the wealthy Radcliffe family, but she also has a knowledge of herbal remedies and when she meets a company of travelling performers she is asked to tend to one of the party, who is an invalid.

You can probably guess what’s going to happen to Elizabeth, considering the title of the book and the way female healers were regarded in the 1650s as waves of witch hunting swept across the country. I’ve read other novels about historical witches and witch trials and expected this one to be very similar, but it actually turned out to be quite different and although some parts were predictable, others weren’t. There’s a lot of emphasis on horror elements – an ancient elm tree that seems to possess magical powers, rituals and curses passed down through the centuries, strange noises and ghostly presences. The dark atmosphere and creepy village setting kept reminding me of The Craftsman by Sharon Bolton.

Melissa’s narrative alternates with Elizabeth’s throughout the book and usually I would find myself drawn more to the historical timeline – this time, though, I preferred the present day one. Melissa came to life for me in a way that Elizabeth didn’t and I enjoyed seeing her navigating the various challenges she faces in the role of midwife in a community under the thumb of an influential cult leader. As an outsider she is viewed with suspicion and wariness at first, but slowly begins to form some friendships – including one with Grizzly, the stray cat who takes up residence in her house! I would have liked to have been told more about her backstory, though, as I felt that part of the book was incomplete.

Elizabeth felt less real to me, but her story was still compelling and I thought it was interesting to read about the travelling performers (although I was slightly bothered by the use of the term ‘circus’ throughout the book as it felt anachronistic). Obviously circuses didn’t exist then in the way they do today, but small groups of entertainers like the one in the novel did, despite the bans on public theatre in Puritan England. Elizabeth’s association with these people makes her situation more dangerous, especially as the woman she is caring for also appears to be a witch. I was intrigued by the village being referred to as Heathersage in the historical chapters and Heredge in the modern ones; I’m assuming a natural corruption of the name over time, although there’s no explanation given.

The Witch Elm turned out to be a perfect October read. Sally-Anne Martyn is a new author for me, but it seems she has written three other thrillers which also sound interesting, although quite different from this one.

Thanks to Boldwood Books for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Reviewed for RIPXXI hosted by @perilreaders

The Death of Shame by Ambrose Parry

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This is the fifth and final book in Ambrose Parry’s Raven and Fisher historical crime series set within the medical world of 19th century Edinburgh. I’m sorry that it’s the last one, as I’ve enjoyed all of the books and am disappointed there won’t be any more. If you’re new to the series, I recommend reading in order starting with the first novel, The Way of All Flesh, but it’s not completely essential as the books also work as separate mysteries.

As The Death of Shame opens, Dr Will Raven is trying to establish his own medical practice, away from his friend and mentor James Simpson, the famous obstetrician. He is assisted financially by Sarah Fisher and in return has agreed to give her some training in secret as she has been disappointed in her efforts to obtain a medical degree like the American female physicians, Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell. Sarah soon has more urgent matters to deal with, however; her young niece, Annabel, was due to arrive in Edinburgh to take up a position in service, but she has gone missing and Sarah fears she may have been lured into prostitution.

Meanwhile, Raven is also having problems of his own. His father-in-law, Dr Cameron Todd, has been found dead, believed to have committed suicide, and as Raven begins to dig into the circumstances of his death he makes some shocking discoveries. His wife, Eugenie, has seemed depressed and withdrawn since the birth of their second child and Raven feels he can’t burden her with anything else, so he continues his investigation alone, afraid of what else he might learn.

The Death of Shame, like the other books in the series, is both a mystery novel and a social commentary on the darker side of life in Victorian Edinburgh. Suicide, blackmail and the trafficking of young women are just some of the topics this book tackles, along with the growing trade in pornography made possible by new developments in photography. It’s a fascinating book, although obviously quite disturbing at times as well. The Historical Note at the end is definitely worth reading as it provides more information on some of the subjects covered in the book, as well as explaining which characters are real or inspired by real people.

Ambrose Parry is a pseudonym of the husband and wife writing team consisting of crime author Chris Brookmyre and consultant anaesthetist Dr Marisa Haetzman. With their different skills and areas of knowledge, they both bring something special to the writing of these novels. I felt that this particular book didn’t have as much medical detail in it, but with the inclusion of real life doctor Emily Blackwell it does explore the prejudice towards women in medicine and the lack of opportunities for study, as well as looking at the difficulties even qualified male doctors like Raven face in setting up a new medical practice and trying to convince patients to entrust them with their care.

This book brings the series to a satisfying conclusion, although I think there was still more that could have been written about Will and Sarah and I’m sorry that their story has come to an end. The good news is that there’s an Ambrose Parry short story I haven’t read yet, so at least I still have that to look forward to!

Reviewed for RIPXXI hosted by @perilreaders