A warm welcome to authors Catherine Curzon and Eleanor Harkstead joining us today to talk about new release “The Captain and the Squire”.
In our latest Captivating Captains novel, The Captain and the Squire, city slicker Chris Hardacre inherits a house in the country from his eccentric great-uncle. But there’s a catch – Chris has also been left his uncle’s spoiled champion pig, the Oracle of Delphi, and if he doesn’t keep her happy, then Chris loses the house.
I love researching family history, and I’m always excited when I find out that someone in my family has left a will. Often, it’ll offer clues as to who’s related to who, but they also give a window onto how people lived in the past. And sometimes what people got up to in the past can seem quite odd.
I’m yet to find anyone who’s got to keep a pig happy in order not to lose their house, but livestock often feature in wills. Someone might leave their wife eight sheep and three milk cows, and if you’re lucky, you might be left the muck heap too! A muck heap sounds like a booby prize – “I never liked you, have some muck!” – but of course, it’s valuable compost therefore a useful resource to inherit. As long as you’re a farmer.
Death’s heads rings were popular bequests in the 1500s and 1600s. When I first spotted these in a will, I found it hilarious because all I could picture were people in ruffs rocking out to death metal. Of course, back then, a death’s head was a solemn reminder of mortality and had nothing to do with shredding a fretboard – a very apt gift to be left by someone who’d just passed away.
Some wills go into great detail about who’s to receive which piece of household goods. This can get to comically granular levels when we find someone being left the second-best pair of pillow cases and the fourth-best copper pot. One will I saw left different chests to different people, “and everything they contain.” But there was nothing to say what they actually contained and it all started to sound like a Jacobean episode of Storage Wars.
It seems remarkable to us now, but often when someone left a house in a will in the 1500s, the will would specify that they’re also to receive the house’s windows. As much as this sounds like something that Chris’ great-uncle would put in his will (“You can have the house, but I’m leaving the stairs to someone else!”), glass was so expensive at that period that the windows had to be specified as part of the bequest. This would stop someone else later saying “I’ve been left the rest and residue, and as they’re not specified in the will, I’m having my sister’s windows!”
In one will, I saw a man leave his housekeeper a portrait of his dog. It’s such a sweet thing to leave someone (don’t worry, he left her a pension as well), and hints at a close, affectionate household.
Perhaps the oddest thing I’ve seen in a will was a woman leaving her daughter a piece of a unicorn’s horn. It was used medicinally, and presumably would’ve been a tusk from a narwhal or a rhino, but still seems utterly bizarre, like leaving someone a fairy’s wing or a pixie’s hat.
One day, no doubt I will find someone who includes a deliberately awkward clause in a will like Chris’ great-uncle, but until then I will no doubt find more people being left the fifth best tongs, and the chest in the small parlour along with its mysterious contents.
Blurb:
A sexy city boy and a country squire will set the countryside alight!
Tarquin Bough is a tweedy squire with an ambitious fiancée who controls his every move. He’s also the owner of the finest collection of saucy artefacts in the world. From Christine Keeler’s eyelash to the Virgin Queen’s dildo, they’re all safe in Tarquin’s care.
Christopher Hardacre is a city-slicker with the tightest jodhpurs and the most smackable bottom in London. He’s given up the ratrace for a country life as captain of the village rowing team. The only trouble is, he’s lost his money to a ruthless scam and Bough Bottoms is his last hope of a home.
But Chris hasn’t reckoned on his late uncle’s will. The house comes with a sitting porcine tenant and if Chris can’t look after his newly-acquired pet pig, he’ll lose his inheritance and his last chance at happiness.
When Tarquin sees Chris it’s lust at first sight, but dare he be honest about his feelings in a village where being gay is bound to be a hot topic? As soon as Chris and Tarquin get together, it’s the hottest summer this little corner of England has ever known.
With a scheming local hotshot out to turn the beloved pig into sausages, can the captain and the squire save everybody’s bacon?
Buy links:
Our website: www.curzonharkstead.co.uk
Catherine Curzon is a royal historian who writes on all matters of 18th century. Her work has been featured on many platforms and Catherine has also spoken at various venues including the Royal Pavilion, Brighton, and Dr Johnson’s House.
Catherine holds a Master’s degree in Film and when not dodging the furies of the guillotine, writes fiction set deep in the underbelly of Georgian London.
She lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill.
Where to Find Catherine:
Eleanor Harkstead likes to dash about in nineteenth-century costume, in bonnet or cravat as the mood takes her. She knows rather a lot about poisons, and can occasionally be found wandering old graveyards. Eleanor is very fond of chocolate, wine, tweed waistcoats and nice pens. Her large collection of vintage hats would rival Hedda Hopper’s.
Originally from the south-east of England, Eleanor now lives somewhere in the Midlands with a large ginger cat who resembles a Viking.
Where to Find Eleanor:
I loved The Captain and the Squire!
We’re so pleased you enjoyed it, thank you!
[…] not just the late, unlamented Uncle Hardacre who left a strange will. Join Eleanor at Love Bytes Reviews for a rummage through some very strange bequests, from windows and mystery chests to a […]