Of gambolling lambs and woolly economics

by Anna Belfrage

This post is about sheep. Well, if we’re going to be correct, it is about wool, not sheep, but seeing as no sheep equals no wool, that per definition means you cannot talk about one without mentioning the other.

Sheep have a reputation for being incredibly stupid. Not that I can boast of any in-depth relationship with a sheep, but what interaction I’ve had indicates that they couldn’t care less about us humans, they’re more into grazing and staring unstintingly at us if we get too close. Somewhat uncomfortable, that eye-balling of theirs. Had they been carnivores, I’d have suspected they’re selecting just where to bite me. Fortunately, sheep rarely bite. They can, however, butt—hard.

Sheep are one of those animals that were domesticated very early on. Originally, as meals-on-hooves, but overtime as a source of wool, our forebears having discovered that wool is quite the thing if you want clothing that retains warmth even if it is damp. I imagine those nomads from whom we all descend quite often found themselves at the mercy of the weather, ergo damp clothes were probably a recurring event in their lives.

Wild sheep tend to be brownish. Domesticated sheep quickly went white, seeing as it is far easier to dye white wool brown than brown wool white. It was something of a lucky coincidence that white is a dominant trait – at least for our forebears who were doing their first forays into genetic modifications – and so sheep are mostly depicted as being white. Except for the black sheep, that is. This perennial scapegoat sticks out like a sore thumb among its conformist brethren.

Anyway: man ambled along with his sheep, his goats. At some point, man domesticated cows and pigs, and pigs aren’t that much for ambling. Besides, man had discovered how to sow crops, and wheat does not go walk-about, which is why man eschewed the nomadic existence to instead become a farmer. Well, not all men. Some preferred to hunt and trade their meat for whatever the farmer produced.

Over time, man began amassing wealth. Lots of land was wealth. Lots of sheep, cows, goats were wealth. Lots of wives…yes, also a sign of wealth, but hopefully that ancient male distinguished between his sheep and his women. And I guess most men weren’t rich enough to have more than one wife, which probably upped the potential for domestic bliss. Women are somewhat possessive when it comes to their men.

British Library, MS 42130

Civilisation picked up speed, and we’re going to take a couple of giant leaps here, thereby ending up in medieval England. At the time, sheep were everywhere, one could say. Sheep were the mainstay of English wealth, the English sheep having quite the reputation for their high quality wool.

Monasteries financed their human flock by keeping huge flocks of sheep, the lord of the manor did the same, the income generated by the wool adding that little extra to a life mostly dominated by a lot of pea-soup and porridge. Wool was used to pay the ransom for Richard Lionheart (50,000 sacks of high-quality wool were put forward to contribute. To put into perspective, approximately 40,000 sacks of wool were exported during the peak years of the wool trade in the 14th century).

Despite having its own fledgling weaving industry, England was essentially a raw material producer. English sheep were sheared, the fleeces were washed, skirted, picked and bundled and transported abroad where others carded and spun after which the wool thread was woven into high quality cloth by Flemish or Italian weavers. Eventually, some of all this high quality stuff found its way back to England where it was bought by the well-to-do. As a result, Flemish and Italian cloth merchants grew very fat and happy.

However: no wool, no cloth, no income—not even for our Flemish and Italian textile workers. Obviously, there was more than English wool around – specifically a lot of Spanish wool. Spain was the leading supplier of high quality wool, even more so since they cross-bred English sheep with their own native breeds in the 12th and 13th century, thereby creating that jewel among sheep, the Merino. Merino wool was of superior quality to anything else on the woolly planet, and prior to the 18th century attempting to smuggle a Merino out of Spain was punishable by death. Before Spain “discovered” all that gold in the New World, their primary source of wealth, just as for England, were their sheep.

British Library, MS 42130

So imagine you were the purchaser for a Tuscan mill. Off you went to scour the various markets for high quality fleece, and in this case you decided to skip the expensive Spanish stuff and look for a bargain elsewhere. England was full of sheep – and other eager merchants swooping down to buy up what they could. Chances were you might end up with no wool unless you got there early or offered a premium price. Alternatively, a new approach was needed to ensure constant supply.

The Italians, being a savvy people with an innate aptitude for trade, had already in the early 13th century developed some sort of rudimentary financial market. Initially, it was more a question of advancing money to a farmer with the future crop as collateral, but soon enough these agrarian “futures” spread to other things. Like wool. That monastery out in the wilds really, really needed a new church, but at the rate of their annual income it would take them twenty years to finance it. Enter the creative wool-buyer:

“I tell you what: I’ll advance you the amount you need, and instead you sell me your wool for the coming twenty years at a fixed price.”
“What, all my wool?” the abbot said, and then they’d haggle for a while, before agreeing on fixed quantities and fixed prices.

As a financial professional, I must admit to being quite fascinated by these early “futures” – goes to show that trade in medieval times was far more innovative than we generally give it credit for. The transactions were documented – several hundreds of these contracts survive, detailing the seller, the buyer, the price and delivery schedules. In some instances these contracts were sold on, but in general the purpose was not to speculate on the price in wool, but rather to safeguard its supply.

Biblioteque National de France

Now the English kings were fully aware of how important the wool trade was for their economy. At times, desperate times required desperate measures, which was why in the 1290s Edward I confiscated all wool from foreign merchants in England. He then sold it again and lined his coffers with the money required to continue his bellicose efforts. The foreign merchants were less than pleased, but seeing as they really, really needed wool, they were back next year anyway. Wool bound for export was also taxed. Such wool had to be traded through the “Staple”, where the king’s tax collectors could easily collect the levied taxes.

By the early 14th century, the English were more than aware of the fact that they were exporting wool at, let’s say, a price of 100, and importing the finished fabrics at 200. Someone else was pocketing the difference, and this was not good. Not at all. Which was why, in 1331, Edward III invited several Flemish master weavers to come and settle in England, thereby taking a giant leap forward when it came to domestic textile production.

To further strengthen the English position, in 1337 Edward III attempted to create a wool monopoly, the Wool Company, its buyers purchasing all English wool and selling it on as it benefited the crown. Not only did Edward “borrow” the income generated by all this wool to finance his armies, he also took the opportunity of starving the Low Country textile mills of wool and diverting the precious fleeces to his own weavers, thereby causing substantial unrest and poverty among the former textile workers in Flanders. This was not only done to develop the English textile industry. It was also Edward’s way of punishing the Flemish rulers for their support of the French King in what was soon to escalate to the Hundred Years’ War.

Ultimately, the Wool Company was not successful, but England’s wool export continued to thrive, and throughout the 14th century wool remained the single most important source of wealth for England, which is why Edward III had his Lord Chancellor sit on a bale of wool, the “Woolsack”, a constant reminder to all those present that without those critters that went ba-ba, England would plunge into obscurity and poverty.

In the 16th century, the English weavers were further strengthened by large numbers of Huguenot craftsmen fleeing the persecution of Protestants in France. By then, England was already recognised as one of the larger producers of “undressed” woollen cloth, but with the influx of the French weavers, the English milling industry became even more efficient – and started moving from “undressed” cloth (which essentially means the fabric was still in its raw form, more or less as it was lifted from the loom, i.e. it had not undergone any fulling or been dyed) to fully finished fabrics, ready to be made into clothing or other articles. Yet again, this meant a larger proportion of the added value remained in English hands rather than ending up with the middlemen. By the end of the 17th century, close to two-thirds of English export (in value) came from textiles. Raw wool no longer figured among the exports, instead England was importing wool—primarily from Spain—to complement its own, homegrown variety.

The textile industry—and the required wool—remained a fundamental part of the English economy for the centuries to come. When the Industrial Revolution swept through England, one of the first industries to be modernised were the textile mills, with all those Spinning Jennies (and subsequent Spinning Mules) granting England a huge cost advantage over other cloth producers. By then, of course, England had come a long, long way from that medieval shepherd, watching over his flocks while assessing just how much money he’d get from his fleeces this year. A long, long way, and yet to this day the versatile and renewable woollen fibre still depends on gambolling lambs and eye-balling sheep.

All pictures in public domain and/or licensed under Wikimedia Creative Commons

~~~~~~~~~~~

Had Anna been allowed to choose, she’d have become a professional time-traveller. As such a profession does not exist, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests, namely history and writing.

Presently, Anna is hard at work with The King’s Greatest Enemy, a series set in the 1320s featuring Adam de Guirande, his wife Kit, and their adventures and misfortunes in connection with Roger Mortimer’s rise to power. The first book, In The Shadow of the Storm was published in 2015, the second, Days of Sun and Glory, was published in July 2016, and the third, Under the Approaching Dark, will be out in April 2017.

When Anna is not stuck in the 14th century, she's probably visiting in the 17th century, specifically with Alex(andra) and Matthew Graham, the protagonists of the acclaimed The Graham Saga. This is the story of two people who should never have met – not when she was born three centuries after him.

More about Anna on her website or on her blog!

Mrs Gaskell's Tower Part I - Historical Trails & Serendipity

By Annie Whitehead

I'm fortunate to live in a part of the world which gives me easy access to many areas of outstanding natural beauty. And I tend to veer away from the obvious spots in the English Lake District to see what else is on my doorstep.

On the northern edge of Morecambe Bay lies a little place called Silverdale, and it was here, at Lindeth Tower, that Elizabeth Gaskell, novelist and biographer of Charlotte Bronte, used to come for her holidays.

As an historian and an author, I love to go wandering along a trail, be it metaphorical or geographical. Mrs Gaskell's Tower had given me a starting point, but she is a literary, rather than historical figure. Little did I know that what started as a 'Victorian' day, would become a day when I got tantalisingly close to the Anglo-Saxons ... 

A pleasant walk down a lane strewn with autumn colours took me down to Jenny Brown's point, where a chimney stands as a reminder of this area's industrial past:

Walking back from the point, I found an old lime kiln which has been reconstructed, fenced off, and given a little placard explaining the history and uses of lime-burning. I also discovered that there was a shipwreck in the area in 1894, when a pleasure yacht, The Matchless, foundered off Jenny Brown's point with the loss of 25 souls.

The English poet Gordon Bottomley (1874-1948) lived in the village and was visited often by his friend, the artist Paul Nash.
Silverdale is noted for its wells, which used to serve the village, and Woodwell is situated, as one might guess, in an area of peaceful woodland.

photo by Zephyrine Barbarachild

It was a wonderful walk, despite the typical northern weather that day, but I left feeling that I hadn't uncovered everything that Silverdale knew ...

And then I remembered that a while ago I'd read in the local paper about the Silverdale Hoard. Now, I'm an Anglo-Saxon-ist, rather than a Viking-ist, so the Silverdale Hoard didn't initially get my pulse racing in the way that the Staffordshire Hoard is apt to do. And yet, and yet ... something drew me to investigate.

2oo pieces of Viking silver were found by a detectorist in 2011 and have been dated to around the year 900. Of the 27 coins, some are coins of Alfred the Great and some of the Danish king of Northumbria. As with the Staffordshire Hoard, it is assumed that whoever buried this stash was unable, due to the turbulent nature of the times and probably due to loss of limb, or life, or both, to come back and retrieve their retirement fund.

It's no thing of beauty compared with the ornate goldwork of the other afore-mentioned hoard, but this cache contained a silver bracelet with an unusual combination of Irish, Anglo-Saxon and Carolingian style decoration. Other pieces of jewellery were found as fragments, having been cut up to be used as 'hacksilver', an alternative form of coinage.

One coin in particular was considered note-worthy, inscribed as it was with the name AIRDECONUT, which has been translated as Harthacnut. Since the coin also bears the inscriptions DNS and REX, it has been suggested that this might identify a hitherto unnamed Danish king of Northumbria. The historian in me was interested.

Another coin, a silver penny, was inscribed  ALVVADVS, translated as Aethelwold. The author in me was excited ...

Aethelwold was the son of Alfred the Great's elder brother, King Aethelred. When Alfred died in 899 Aethelwold made a bid for the throne, taking a nun hostage (why? Don't ask me) and holing up in Wimborne, Dorset, where his father was buried, as if to establish that he, and not Alfred's son Edward, had the stronger link to the West-Saxon line of kings. From Wimborne he went to ally himself with the Northumbrian Danes, who acknowledged his claim to the kingship of Wessex. Confident of eventual victory, he must have proceeded to order coins minted in his name. He eventually met his cousin Edward in a remote part of of East-Anglia in 902, at the Battle of the Holme. The rarity of the coin bearing Aethelwold's name perhaps tells you what you need to know about the outcome.

So, from a tower favoured by a Victorian writer, via industry and shipwreck, and an interesting but not initially fascinating buried treasure, I had come, unplanned and unconsciously, to a person whom I feel I 'know' rather well. For you see, a year before this hoard was discovered, I had written a story. It's called To Be a Queen, and it features Alfred the Great, his daughter, her brother, Edward, and their cousin, one Aethelwold, or as I call him, Thelwold.

Those among you who write, and have a penchant for digging, either literally or figuratively, will understand how satisfying it was for me to find out about that tiny little silver penny.

And as for Mrs Gaskell? Well, she got me thinking, too, and Part II of my Silverdale 'wanderings' will be live on this blog on December 27th.


Annie Whitehead is an historian and author of To Be a Queen, which tells the story of Aethelflaed, Lady of the Mercians, daughter of Alfred the Great. She writes regularly for magazines and will be releasing her second novel, also set in 'Dark Ages' Mercia, in the New Year.

Find her book at AMAZON and BOOK DEPOSITORY
and find Annie on her BLOG and FACEBOOK PAGE

Richard Arkwright - An Entrepreneurial Life

by Catherine Curzon

Portrait of Richard Arkwright
by Joseph Wright of Derby, 1790

Sir Richard Arkwright (23rd December 1732 – 3rd August 1792)

Throughout history much has been said of the self-made man, that fabled sort who dragged himself up by his bootstraps to make his mark on the world and usually make a fortune at the same time. Sir Richard Arkwright is truly the model of this Georgian dream; from humble beginnings he triumphed through a combination of his own ambition, shrewd business dealings and, some might say, other people's innovation to get to the top of the business world. Today his name is still known throughout England, forever linked to stories of the Industrial Revolution and the rich industrial heritage of the nation

Arkwright was one of 13 children born to Sarah and Thomas, a tailor in Preston, Lancashire. With so many siblings there was no opportunity for the boy to undertake formal education but Arkwright was fortunate enough to have a cousin who could read and write, and she passed on these vital skills to him. The man who would make a fortune in the mills began his career as a barber and wigmaker, apprenticed first to Mr Nicholson and then the proud proprietor of his own establishment at Churchgate in Bolton, opened when he was just 20 years of age.

Arkwright's clients were the gentlemen who made Bolton into a town of industrial might and they demanded the best of everything, so to have the Lancashire drizzle wash the expensive dye from their periwigs was hardly a recipe for customer satisfaction. Whilst re-dying his client's wigs Arkwright realised that there was an opportunity for innovation at hand and he laboured to produce a dye that was waterproof, turning his shop into the go-to place for the latest in wig innovation. Sensing an opportunity for speculation he took to the roads of England, collecting discarded human hair and turning it into fashionable, waterproof wigs using his secret dying method. However, the fashion for wigs was not going to last forever, and when it began to fade the would-be entrepreneur already had his next venture in mind.

Arkwright's water frame

Growing up in Bolton in a tailor's household, Arkwright had spent his childhood surrounded by textile mills and workers, and he knew of the arduous task of running the machinery that transformed raw cotton into thread, a laborious and strung-out process. With his thirst for invention unquenched and well aware that the passionate millworkers of his hometown would not take kindly to innovations that would help the owners but possibly cost them their jobs, the young wigmaker followed the textile trail to its centre in Nottingham. Here he worked alongside clockmaker John Kay to develop and patent the spinning frame (later the water frame), a machine that could produce yarn at a fraction of the cost and a much faster speed than human workers.

Arkwright's name and reputation began to spread through the textile producers of England and the factory he opened with new partner John Smalley added yet another machine to its line, the groundbreaking carding engine. In need of expansion capital, Arkwright went into partnership with Jedediah Strutt and Samuel Need, who financed his innovations until a dispute over Arkwright's speedy expansion brought the partnership to an abrupt end. At a cost of more than £10,000 he completed the carding engine, perfecting and fully mechanising the process, yet as with so many tales of success, others were quick to follow his lead. The engine was patented in 1775 and his contemporaries rushed to copy Arkwright's innovations, eventually causing him to take legal measures to enforce his patent rights.

The gateway to Arkwright's Mill at Cromford

Juggling court cases on one hand and business on the other, Arkwright opened a horse-driven mill in Preston and later became the first to use steam to power the waterwheel that fed the machinery. His Cromford Mill was a state of the art building, with Arkwright bringing in whole families to staff it and live in the newly-built cottages on site. Providing his millworkers with homes, holidays and social gathering places, he also pioneered the use of shift workers and was considered a fair and decent employer.

All of this innovation came at a price and as the 1770s progressed, Arkwright found himself embroiled in ever more bitter legal disputes. His patents of 1775 were subject to a decade-long series of challenges from inventors who claimed that Arkwright had based his own inventions on their work. As he faced these ruinously expensive cases Arkwright's factories were the subjects of industrial espionage as well as the ire of workers, terrified that the mills of the future would be staffed not by men, but by machines. However, Arkwright continued to innovate, and it was under his patronage that Birkacre Mill in Chorley was fully refitted, though it was destroyed by anti-machinery protesters in 1779.

By 1785 the entrepreneur's patents had been overturned and many in the industry looked forward to what they hoped would be the downfall of an apparently egotistical, arrogant man. However, despite his fury that his professional integrity was in dispute, Arkwright was delighted to accept a knighthood in 1786 and the following year became High Sheriff of Derbyshire. Arkwright was a born entrepreneur; he made partnerships only when he had no other choice and as soon as the finances were in place, bought out his partners at the best rate possible. With an unshakable belief in his own abilities and talent, he had a canny business acumen that led him to amass a fortune. He employed tens of thousands of workers and licensed intellectual property rights to elements of his designs at keen rates, ensuring that even the smallest innovation was monetised at every opportunity.

When Arkwright died in 1792 his son took over the business and inherited a fortune that some said was made on the backs of others. The self-made entrepreneur is memorialised across Britain to this day, his name synonymous with the very fabric of industrial England.


References:

Fitton, RS; The Arkwrights: Spinners of Fortune (Manchester University Press, 1989)
Fitton, RS & Wadsworth, AP; The Strutts and the Arkwrights, 1758–1830 (Harvard University Press, 1958)
Griffin, Emma; Liberty's Dawn: A People's History of the Industrial Revolution (Yale University Press, 2013)
Osborne, Roger; Iron, Steam & Money: The Making of the Industrial Revolution (Bodley Head, 2013)
Trinder, Barrie; Britain's Industrial Revolution: The Making of a Manufacturing People, 1700-1870 (Carnegie Publishing Ltd, 2013)


Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Madame Gilflurt, aka Catherine Curzon, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on Twitter. Her first book, Life in the Georgian Court, will be published by Pen and Sword Books.

The Worker Revolt Against Progress or Just Standing up for the Little Guy? The Luddites

The Industrial Revolution, a product of the concerted application of "natural philosophy" and engineering, did not please everyone in England. Indeed, in the early years, some productivity gains associated with this economic shift led to such instability that thousands of troops were fielded to suppress discontent. Such was the case with the Luddites.

In early 1811, stocking factories in Nottingham started receiving letters from "General Ned Ludd and his Army of Redressers." Among other general wage grievances, these letters outlined threats against employers over the use of stocking frames--an early type of semi-automated knitting machine. The advance of the Industrial Revolution had spread various types of textile processing machines throughout northern and mid-England. While these machines allowed the cheaper production of textiles, they also hurt the livelihood of traditional handloom weavers. Even when the automation process didn't completely eliminate jobs, they still resulted in a severe downward pressure on wages and longer hours. Other general economic issues contributed to the climate of discontent. Thus, the Luddites quickly gained a great deal of popular support among the working classes.

The Luddites started breaking into factories and destroying stocking frames. The discontent and destruction spread. Soon, the newly established Prince Regent was offering reward money for information on these so-called "frame-breakers" and "frame-smashers."

So, who was General Ned Ludd? The historical evidence suggests there likely was no such man. Instead, the name was likely inspired by a 1782 incident involving an angry farm laborer who smashed some frames. Whether there was a real General Ludd didn't seem to matter much. The Luddites weren't a tightly organized movement as much as various different groups of agitated workers arising in different locations. Many of their clashes with authorities were more riots than anything else. This was one of the reasons they would initially prove hard to suppress. There was no head of the dragon to cut off. The factors leading to their discontent weren't things that the government and authorities could do much to directly address in an efficient manner.

The Luddite cause spread throughout the industrial areas of England, including Yorkshire, Derbyshire, Lancashire, and Leicestershire. Although it had started with the weavers, other textile workers vented their wrath on various machines threatening their jobs and their general frustration over increasing concerns about economic inequity.

The chaos would continue to spread. Seemingly constant frame breaking and attacks on mills escalated into occasional attacks on mill guards, mill owners, and others opposing the Luddite cause. Though there were some arrests for murder and execution, the responses of local authorities did little to quell the decentralized movement. A combination of several factors, including the on-going Napoleonic Wars on the Continent, contributed to exploding wheat prices in 1812. This general poor economic climate combined with concern over food led to even greater militarization of many workers. Despite the passionate opposition of a small minority of Luddite-sympathizing politicians, such as the controversial Lord Bryon, Parliament passed the Frame-Breaking Act, which made frame-breaking in of itself a capital crime. In addition, troops were sent into the areas suffering from Luddite trouble.

By 1813, the show of force succeeded in bringing the Luddites to heel. Mass trials were followed by executions and transportation to Australia for many. Though Luddite-related riots, frame-breaking, and violence would sputter back into life over the next few years, by 1817 the Luddite were finished as an movement, even if their name would live on as a slur directed at anti-technology people.

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J.A. Beard is a scientific editor and the author of a Regency paranormal romance, A Woman of Proper Accomplishments, where a different sort of natural philosophy advance threatens the social status quo of late Georgian England.

Child labour and Pick-pockets

by Marie Higgins

When I start to write a new story, I flesh out my characters to see what makes them tick. In my latest story, my heroine had a terrible past. She was told at a young age while she was in school that her family had died in a house fire. The man who told her this devastating news then ruined her life by selling her to the villain - Richard Macgregor who taught orphans how to pick-pocket. These orphans ranged from seven or eight years of age to sixteen or seventeen. He controlled them and they were afraid of making him upset because he'd whip them.

This is what I decided to research for my story "The Sweetest Touch", a Regency Romance. I was appalled at what I discovered. We all know there were several different social classes. The higher class of people had the money to send their children to school to receive an education. However, the children from the working class didn't have this luxury. If a family could not afford to put their children in school, the children had to find jobs to help the support the family. It was not uncommon to expect children to work along side their mothers, often in textiles, mills, or factories. In 1788, two-thirds of those who worked in factories were children who worked 13 hour days - six days a week! (And we think we have it bad!) Most employers liked hiring women and children because they didn't have to pay them as much.

The Industrial Revolution became notorious for employing children in factories and mines and as chimney sweeps. In fact...did you know that Charles Dickens worked at the age of twelve in a blacking factory because his family was in debtors' prison?

Orphans weren't as lucky to work in factories, which is why most of them joined gangs and would steal to survive. Oliver Twist (written by Charles Dickens) is the story of an orphaned boy who was in one of these gangs. While writing my story, I wanted my heroine to remember the struggles she had in the ten years she was with Richard Macgregor and the other orphans. There were times while writing this story that I got emotional just thinking about the way of life for these poor waifs. Researching this definitely helped my story!!

I'd like to share with you a part of my story. In the beginning, the readers know my heroine (Louisa) is a pick-pocket. But within a couple pages, she's in an accident and loses her memory. The hero (Trevor) is the one who hit her with his curricle, and feels like he should keep her at his home working as a servant. Soon, she's gets the task of being the hero's children's nursemaid. At this point in the story she still does not remember her past. In this scene, heroine, hero and his children, are walking up the street to a pastry shop.

Trevor glanced at Louisa to ask if she would like a pastry, but she wasn’t looking toward the window. She focused on something behind him. Instead of her shy smile he’d watched for the past little while, a suspicious frown tugged on her lips.

Just as he turned to see what bothered her, another person bumped into him, making him stumble. “Forgive me for not seeing—” he began to say, but the vagabond didn’t stop.

Louisa gasped and jumped in the stranger’s path. As the young lad skirted around to avoid her, Louisa’s hand slipped in the boy’s pocket quick as a flash. The vagabond pushed her shoulder, aiming his glare right at her, opened his mouth to speak…but then stopped. Wide eyes stared at Louisa for a few seconds, before he sprinted into a run.

Shock washed over Trevor as he witnessed the scene. Her movement was so quick—so precise—he wondered if he’d actually seen what he had.

Louisa stood still, staring at the object in her hand. Her face void of color.

“What in heaven’s name—” Trevor snapped, but then noticed what she held out to him. My pocket watch? He dug inside his pocket—the same place he always kept his watch—but it wasn’t there. Words choked in his throat. The thief.

“Your Grace,” Louisa said in a shaky voice. “I could not allow him to steal from you.” She handed him the watch.

Still in shock, he shook his head. “How did you know he was stealing from me?”

“I…” She turned her head and stared at the direction the lad had run. “I saw him take your watch, and I knew I had to get it back.”

“But, Louisa,” Trevor stepped closer. “You took my watch right out of his pocket and he didn’t even notice.”

She gave a faint, emotionless chuckle. “I know.”

“How…” Trevor shook his head. Her wide eyes and colorless face told him this had been a mystery to her as well.

“Well,” he said, expelling his breath, “shall we venture into the shop and get some pastries for our drive home?”

Nodding, she folded her shaking arms. “Yes. That is a splendid idea.” She hurried to the twins and held their hand.

Trevor opened the door for the three before entering the shop. His mind whirled with unanswered questions but more with the fear that he knew what the answers were all along. By Louisa’s quick actions as she retrieved his watch, Trevor now realized what her past had been. The realization left a bitter taste to his mouth that no pastry would be able to remove.

 "The Sweetest Touch" book #2 in my Regency Romance series.

Marie Higgins is a multi-published author of romance; from refined bad-boy heroes who makes your heart melt to the feisty heroines who somehow manage to love them regardless of their faults. Visit her website / blog to discover more about her – http://mariehiggins84302.blogspot.com

Social Classes of Victorian England by Marie Higgins

A couple years ago I ran across a movie I’d never heard of before called “North & South”.  My first thought was this was the same tv series that Patrick Swayze had played in.  On closer inspection, I noticed how wrong I was.  Because I’m a huge fan of historical romance, especially the Victorian England era, this story intrigued me.  I watched it…and was IN LOVE!

The love story was wonderful and so romantic.  I grew along with each character and felt their loss, their anger and confusion.  Not only that, I was educated on something I didn’t know.  I’ve done a lot of research over the years, and I never realized there was a North and South in England where each side ridiculed and looked down upon the other side—much like the North and South here in America did during the Civil War time.  The knowledge I gained from watching this movie made me want to learn more.

In the mid-Victorian period, there were different classes of people.  I’d already known about the upper class (Aristocracy) and the lower class (servants—or what’s called working class).  But I didn’t know much about the Middle-Class who were Factory owners.  During the Industrial Revolution, a great change took place in British culture.

The populace (many who included women and children) wanted to better their lives, so they sough employment in factories working 12-hour shifts.  The living conditions for these people were not good and many were starving.  These factors, along with various ideological principles by Britain’s intellectual community, provoked a crucial social evolution.  This caused rebellious behavior amongst the working class.  The working class of Britain, throughout the industrial revolution and through the Victorian age, acted in a defiant manner toward both the aristocracy and middle class. This behavior extended from the everyday activities of the workers to radical anarchist movements that categorized the underground.

Various ideologies arose from intellectuals and radicals of England, Ireland, and the French revolution.  Liberty, rights, equality, and revolution presented to the people who were then motivated to make a change.  Unfortunately, this revolution never occurred at this time because of the government.  The rebellious behavior by the working class was demonstrated in everyday life and justified by both the living and working conditions of workers.  This all took a toll on the British lower social order, but it was not pushed into a revolution. 

I found all of this information enlightening – and at the same time, disheartening to think people were treated in such a fashion.  Of course that is probably why I love “North & South” so much.  Or…could it be the hero in the story, Richard Armitage, who captured my interest?

YEAH! It was Richard. (grins)


For more information about the Industrial Revolution check out these links -
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saltaire
http://itech.fgcu.edu/faculty/bsullivan/middleclass.htm
http://www.123helpme.com/view.asp?id=22885

Please check out the giveaway I'm having for my Regency, "The Sweetest Kiss". Contest ends on Wednesday, Dec. 7th. Go to this link for more details - http://englishhistoryauthors.blogspot.com/p/giveaways.html

Marie Higgins is a multi-published author of romance; from refined bad-boy heroes who makes your heart melt to the feisty heroines who somehow manage to love them regardless of their faults. Visit her website / blog to discover more about her –