It is sometimes interesting to learn how a story develops from its first conception to its final version. Daring Duplicity, the Wellington Mysteries Vol. 1: Adventures of a Lesbian Victorian Detective turned out to become much more than its first emanation.
When I returned to writing after a long hiatus, I was fortunate enough to have a string of short stories published in horror anthologies in 2015 and 2016, but that was not where I envisioned my fresh start to remain. As a full-time over-the-road truck driver, I did not suspect I had time to write complete novels, so I continued to scan postings for stories to be included in anthologies. (I didn’t make a single penny from them, but that is not what anthologies are for. They are all about introductions and forging connections—both with publishers and readers.) When I came across an announcement seeking an LGBTQ detective story, I became intrigued.
To that point, I had written one short story featuring lesbian characters, and it had been rejected from the zombie anthology I tried to pitch it to. Was it excluded for the lesbian leads or because it was a hilarious comedy spoof of the zombie craze? Hard to say, but you can find Jazz and the Ambling Dead in Melodie Romeo’s collection Terror in Time. But I digress. Being a woman who loves women myself, I always wanted to write my story but feared I would be unable to find an audience for it; thankfully, I was wrong. So I took a chance and wrote Mr. X and the Blackmailed Female, a novella length story featuring Stetson Goody, a Victorian woman who desired to break free of society’s mold, in almost every way. The publisher accepted it into their anthology, and Private Dicks Packing Heat was released in 2016.
I always thought I would like to write a sequel, even a series featuring Stetson and the foggy streets of London, but my publisher asked for another short story for a new anthology featuring LGBTQ fairytales. As my mind raced for ideas, it latched hold of creating a female Robin Hood, but it would never be short enough to fit the bill for the anthology. So, I pitched the concept to my publisher for a novel, and she said to go for it. Therefore, I dove into writing Heart of Sherwood, but still hadn’t forgotten about Mr. X.
After a string of Night Flyer novels and refurbishing an old unpublished manuscript of Viking Quest, I moved to British Columbia with my Canadian partner of over twenty-four years because that is where her family lives. The majesty and rich history of the mountains and valley I am blessed to view every day inspired me to start Walks with Spirits, a historical novel with this setting long before it was disturbed by Europeans or modern Americans; unfortunately, I kept running into barriers.
Since I quit driving to become a full-time indie author, I understood I had to keep producing books at a swift pace, but I still wanted them to be good. That’s when I was inspired to pull out my old novella and write the series I had always intended to do. With no other responsibilities, I knew I could complete it rather rapidly. It was off to the drawing board!
Option one: expand Mr. X and the Blackmailed Female into a complete novel. No, that wasn’t it. Option two: write enough other novellas in sequence to complete an arc and fill the length of an entire book. Yes! But I realized things could not possibly work out long-term for Stetson and Jewel, given the vast chasm between their two worlds and Jewel’s need to please her parents. That meant coming up with a new love interest for Stetson.
Being a musician myself, I have always desired to write a musical character, and I determined this was the book to put her in. Enter Evelyn Merritt, a talented pianist who loves her music enough to take the only job she could—as an accompanist for the burlesque extravaganzas. When her girlfriend, a promising ballet dancer, is murdered, she comes to Xavier Wellington Private Investigations for answers the police had not been able to provide. From there, nature takes its course.
The most challenging part for me was to come up with four additional mysteries for Stetson to solve (actually, there are more than four; just four more novellas). I strove for a fast pace to move the action ahead with a slow-burn romance, as I feel fits the Victorian Era and the characters.
With Walks with Spirits now in the editing phase, I’m about to embark on Perilous Passages, The Wellington Mysteries, Vol. 2, so am currently brainstorming ideas for more crimes to solve and how Stetson will crack them while striving to grow her relationship with Evelyn.
I am excited to have brought the multi-faceted Stetson out of the confines of an anthology into the light of her own new series, and I sincerely hope you enjoy reading Daring Duplicity!
Solving mysteries is her business. Finding love is her dream. Will combining the two get her killed?
Victorian Era England. Stetson revels in being unconventional. So when society shies away from her independent nature, the bold woman creates an imaginary boss and opens her own detective agency. And her keen observational skills, convincing disguises, and Holmesian methods quickly bring in a string of tough-to-crack cases.
Struggling to squeeze a personal life in around a series of hazardous investigations, Stetson worries she’ll never find a woman of like-passions. But with her heart set on true love despite the risk, she carries on hunting for the perfect relationship.
Will her clever escapades lead to death… or delight?
Daring Duplicity: The Wellington Mysteries, Vol. 1, Adventures of a Lesbian Victorian Detective is a collection of five sequential novellas, each encompassing its own exciting mystery while furthering the story of Stetson’s life in London. If you enjoy crime dramas, Victorian era fiction, or a sweet lesbian romance, then you’ll love award-winning author Edale Lane’s Daring Duplicity. Order yours today!
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Miss Goody responded with a pleasant smile of her own. “I’m afraid that will not be possible. Mr. X is extremely successful in foiling criminals because of his anonymity. In fact, no one has ever seen him but me. All correspondence between the investigator and the clients goes through his assistant—me. So how this works is, you tell me the specifics, I talk to him, and he gives me a list of questions to ask, and so forth. I assure you, anything you say to me will be kept in the strictest of confidence, just as if you were conversing with the detective himself.”
“I see.” The assistant paused for a moment before continuing and her attention fell on Miss Goody for the first time, being specifically drawn to ample breasts squeezed into her buttoned waist coat. It required conscious effort for Jewel to raise her gaze, but doing so she became captivated by two warm, caring cognac eyes. “Very well, then. I am being blackmailed, and the nature of the information being held over me makes it impossible to go to Scotland Yard, or a constable, or even my father, for the money. I receive an allowance, not enough to meet the foul villain’s demands, but sufficient to cover your agency’s fees and expenses I’m sure.”
“I see,” she replied with a soft expression of compassion. “Was the man you were seen with married, or simply from the wrong side of the tracks?”
“Well,” Jewel stammered, cleared her throat, and fixed her gaze on a painting on the wall. “Not exactly. And he has a photograph.”
Miss Goody sighed and leaned forward, her palms on the desk top. “Now, Lady Jewel Ashton, if we are to find this blackmailer and save your reputation, you cannot hold anything back. How can Mr. Wellington help you if you won’t tell us the whole story?”
“It is not my reputation I am concerned with,” she admitted, a hint of real fear trembling in her voice. “My whole family could be ruined, utterly ruined, and destroy my father’s political career. We would be forced to retreat to our estate in the countryside. I cannot allow shame to come upon my family for one moment’s indiscretion.”
Miss Goody met her eyes. “I assure you if you provide Mr. X all the information he needs, he can find this scoundrel, take back the photo and the plates, and give him every reason to keep his deceitful mouth closed on the matter.”
Jewel held her gaze for a long moment, and believing her sincerity, made a decision—the only one she could really make. She opened her reticule and withdrew a tan envelope. “Someone left this in my carriage while I was shopping. My driver said he didn’t see or hear a thing.” She placed the parcel on the desk within Miss Goody’s reach and held her breath.
She was roused from her musings when she heard a desperate voice from across the desk. “So now you see the urgency and delicacy of the matter.”
She quickly shoved the note and the photograph back into the envelope and replied with sincerity. “Do not be distressed, Lady Jewel Ashton. We will take care of this with great expediency. I shall show these to the detective and he will know just what to do. Wait here. I’ll return anon.”
Stetson stepped into the room behind her, leaned against the closed door, and let out a deep sigh. With eyes shut and hugging herself, she took a moment to process the warm thrill that rose from her loins. Reveling in the euphoric rush, she wanted to believe the impossible–that maybe her dreams could come true. Mayhap there was a chance, ever so slight, that she, too, could act on her passions. Her breathing became ragged as she imagined kissing Jewel, and being kissed in return. Her heart pounded in excitement. Until reality stuck its ugly head into her dream reminding her there was a case to solve. Stetson moaned softly in aggravation and opened her eyes to glance around her inner sanctum.
Within the confines of Mr. Wellington’s lair were all the implements one would need to be a successful private investigator. On the wall to the left was an array of weapons, including both an umbrella and walking cane hiding swords in their handles, an umbrella with a singleshot rifle barrel and a trigger in the handle, several knives, guns, and gadgets. A glass-doored cabinet contained other curiosities such as a wristwatch that concealed a tiny explosive, a unique copper and brass miniature camera with flash attachment, a mirror attached to a long folding pole for seeing around corners or over walls, telescopic opera glasses, and a voice recording device. There was a table holding an array of wigs in vast colors and styles for both men and women, false beards and moustaches, along with an exhaustive selection of hats. Hanging from hooks on another wall were various costumes for the well-to-do business people, and the poor, male and female alike. There was a large vanity with a mirror and cases of cosmetics and face powder as one might see backstage of a theatre. Yes, the windowless room had all the trappings to outfit a man of mystery save one—there was no Xavier Wellington… only Stetson.
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