'There is no doubt fiction makes a better job of the truth.'
Print Version Download of Book One £2.99
'...wonderfully done. These are my ancestors. Her research is remarkable. Excellent review of History, both family and English.'
Jean Batton (Amazon Review)
'An entertaining treat with enough history to satisfy serious-minded readers.'
And...a view of fiction wholeheartedly shared by the author...
'...what I love is fiction that recognises the contexts of the characters. Fiction not set in a vacuum. Personally, socially or politically. Fiction with both politics and Politics. And that takes research.'
Butcher's daughter rocks and rescues English dynasty. The story of Mary Cole, 5th Countess of Berkeley, focus of a sensational cause célèbre of the Georgian era.
(New edition, new format, 369 pp.)
When Mary Cole, a butcher's daughter, caught the eye of Lord Berkeley, it was as flint to tinder. A libertine and a forsworn bachelor, he was taken aback that the Catholic-reared beauty refused to be his mistress. Within weeks he'd brought her family to bankruptcy. When, still, she eluded him, he devised a theatrical plot to abduct her.
It was then that he knew he could not let her go.
Aided by his corrupt chaplain, Hupsman, the Earl duped his 'shepherdess' with fake nuptials.
Tumbling to the truth, Mary became passionately committed to gaining her eldest son's birthright. With an astonishing grasp of pastoral economy, she repaired the Berkeley fortunes while a succession of children compounded her plight.
Her estranged sisters, meanwhile, were moving among the glitterati of Pitt’s England and the New America and their scandalous activities had to be curtailed at the highest level before a legal knot was eventually tied.
Upon Hupsman's death, the temptation to affirm the ‘first marriage’ proved too strong for the Earl and Countess and they conspired in a criminal act to ‘find’ the registry. The upshot was a sensational trial in the House of Lords in 1811 whose repercussions were to shake the foundations of the Berkeley dynasty for ever and put Mary’s life at risk.
Was that marriage a sham? Or was it a timeless truth?
"I have been as much sold as any lamb that goes to the shambles!"
Often she had watched them in the fickle days of spring, skipping about the lush meadows of Gloucester, exulting in the gift of life. Steadily they grew fat and independent of the placid ewes, unaware of the shadow of the butcher's blade, or that they were destined for some rich man's table.
That was long ago, when Mary was a slip of a thing and Pa kept The Swan Tavern at Barnwood and grazed livestock there. He used to send his meat into the city of Gloucester and numbered among his customers many of the great houses of the Vale. They were well-known, the Coles. Folk grumbled about their airs and graces, but William Cole was a respected tradesman who never sold anyone short. He was proud of his three lovely daughters, of whom Mary was the youngest, and had high hopes of his fourth child, his namesake, Billy, despite the shameless way the women of the household mollycoddled him. His wife, too, was a comely body who earned pin money by nursing sick and newborn infants and saw no contradiction in this humble occupation and that state to which she aspired. "For," observed she, "high birth or lowly, tis nought but an accident. Nobility of character is what signifies." Mary possessed a natural reserve and took this dictum to heart, but her sisters were wanton and Cole was relieved when his eldest, Ann, took up with Will Farren, a likely fellow in the same trade as himself, and went to live in Butchers' Row, Westgate, in wedded safekeeping.
Life was simple then. The sun always seemed to be shining. Mary delighted in picking nosegays of sweet peas and lavender from her father's garden and went capering off to school with them, adding poppies and buttercups and Queen Anne's lace along the bridle way.
But in the year 1783, when Farmer George was King and Mary was full-grown, the recent death of old Cole marked a dramatic change in the family's fortune....
Follow The Wolf and The Lamb serial online
The Sheep and The Goats, Second Book in the Berkeley Series 1799 – 1811
(New print available shortly)
Now moving freely in aristocratic society, Mary must distinguish between enemy and ally! Even under her own roof, appearances can be deceptive and the husband about whom she has no illusions further falls from grace when certain matters come to light. The young Fitz’s philandering reputation is proving every bit as robust as his father’s and it's not long before he is caught up in amorous and political intrigue. When Hupsman's dying confession surfaces, the situation worsens and the dramatic death of Lord Berkeley brings the succession crisis to a head. Who will support the Countess’ story before the peers of the realm? And who will speak against her in revenge?
For, heaven be thanked, we live in such an age, when no man dies for love but on the stage.
Was Dryden’s wisdom to be trusted?
The Arundel ball had drooped to a close, its sprightly airs skimming the shadows of the mind. Dawn was breaking.
Frederick Augustus, 5th Earl of Berkeley, wondered grimly if it would be his last. He entered Rewell Wood with a bravura gait, taunted by flashbacks of a life that was more random patchwork than silk tapestry depicting a parable. He would be leaving behind a heap of disordered affairs.
A swell of pigeons let fly at his approach. The air was moss-damp and tainted with mould. No sign of his royal antagonist. Cumberland’s second had been instructed to resist any form of negotiation. The vengeful blade was as surly as he was suave, although Berkeley himself had thrown down the gauntlet upon catching his virtuous spouse in the Duke’s clutches. What was a fellow to do? Honour demanded that he defend her, King’s spawn or not. In the light of recent debate over the legitimacy of their eldest sons, it behoved him to take the Duke to task in the most decided terms. Besides, Berkeley loved Mary with a yearning he shied from admitting. It had flourished through stress and misfortune against all expectation. Back in the eighties, he had purchased her from butcher’s stock for the sum of one hundred guineas and little imagined how his solipsist world would be overturned. The Cole family had done very well out of him since then, and he who reckoned he was nobody’s fool had become the Jester of the deck.
The sun’s hemisphere began to smelt the edges of the horizon and send darting beams through the trees. A pheasant waddled across the misty track ahead as if daring him to pursue, a ridiculous creature without streamlined motion. Actaeon, he thought. (It was forty years since his academic days.) The hunter become the hunted.
His musings were interrupted by a heavy crackle in the brushwood. A patch of hide resolved itself into the finest heraldic beast he had ever seen, with antlers like blasted oaks, its proud head surrounded by the radiance of the morning. The stag gazed at him, imperially aloof, as if awaiting homage. Berkeley stood stock still. It was the start of the rutting season and he was not so foolish as to ignore that. Yet it was not fear that inspired him, it was a deliquescence of muscle and bone, stronger than for a covetable woman, at beholding such a creature in its perfect element. It listened, pawed the turf, then flexed its neck and vanished between the nankeen boughs.
Berkeley started, as out of a dream. Human voices announced the gruesome business of the day. Three figures were approaching. His adversary engaged his eye with cold reserve.
So this was it. The ritual of preparation. The careful pacing of distance. The cocking of pistols and taking aim. The fixing upon the white kerchief. Or was it a flag of surrender? His temples throbbed; his heart was in his fingertips. He was captive to the moment. Behind and beyond were meaningless.
A double salvo sent a raucous confusion of birds into the ether. Berkeley discharged upwards. Hot metal travelling at the speed of light whined past his ear. The power of it stung his skin. The smell of sulphur and singed hair filled his nostrils. Scalding blood surged back into his veins. He was alive! The sun in all its Indian summer glory was coming up! He was being given a second chance!
But Prince Ernest, Duke of Cumberland, single-sighted as he was, had not intended it so.
The Peeress and The Playboy, Third Book in the Berkeley Series 1811 - 1844 (WIP)
(Guest Post on this theme at Madame Gilflurt's Salon: Byron, Berkeley and Mrs Bunn)
Jane Austen meets Bleak House in an engaging historical novel about the demands of marriage in late 18th-century England.
The first installment in a proposed trilogy, the book centers on Mary Cole, a Gloucester butcher’s daughter whose chief virtue is an unalterable sense of goodness, a quality hard to maintain as the youngest sister of two unapologetic harlots. Barely 16 years old, Mary catches the eye of notorious lothario Frederick Augustus, the 5th Earl of Berkeley, who has always sworn to avoid the prison of marriage. Frederick senses that a beautiful saint like Mary can save him from his immoral ways and stops at nothing to seduce her. When she refuses his advances, he manipulates her family’s dire economic state and tricks her into unwedded communion. Despite Mary’s true love for James Perry, an aspiring young lawyer with only the purest of intentions, she gives up her happiness to save her family. Answering demands that they marry, Frederick sets up a fraudulent marriage contract, one that he convinces Mary can never be revealed because of her low social status and the indecent reputation of her sisters. During the next 15 years, she bears a half-dozen children and potential heirs but finds that claiming a birthright for her seemingly illegitimate sons will become the fight of her life. Through the narrative thread concerning Frederick’s aversion to marriage, Cole explores the marital adventures of Frederick’s close friend the Prince of Wales, whose desire for the twice-widowed Maria Fitzherbert runs afoul of the Royal Marriages Act of 1772–it prohibits the prince from marrying without the consent of his father King George III, who disapproves of the widow’s Catholic faith. The novel moves along like a runaway carriage and features many delectable trappings–chance encounters at the opera, duplicitous servants, church officials taken to drink and hidden agendas–found in the very best Victorian novels.
An entertaining treat with enough history to satisfy serious-minded readers.
HISTORICAL NOVELS REVIEW ONLINE (August - November quarter 2008)
THE WOLF AND THE LAMB: First Book of the Berkeley Series
Rosy Cole, New Eve Publishing, 2008, 2013 £13.95, pb, 304pp, 9780955687716
Mary Cole, a butcher’s daughter from Gloucester, is ignorant of the ways of the world. In a time when men of the aristocracy had “official” mistresses, the unscrupulous wandered the country abducting women without penalty. Mary is soon spotted by the Earl of Berkeley, a blackguard and womanizer, who decides that he must possess her. Through tricks and corrupt dealings, including the betrayal of Mary by her sisters, he abducts her, and she becomes his mistress.
Mary’s distress and Berkeley’s weakness for her leads them to marry in secret, but he forces the priest to burn the marriage record; thus hidden, Mary could not take the name of Berkeley. After many years and many children, Mary convinces the Earl to marry her publicly, but the children born before this marriage would not inherit the family title. It becomes their mission to prove the earlier marriage and restore their sons’ rights. Society is against them, and their battle has just begun in this, the first volume of the Berkeley Trilogy.
Mary’s plight is told with compassion and the shameful history of England’s “great” families is retold with skill and evident research. Beyond Mary, there is too little character development, a difficult task when the author includes the multitudes connected to the Berkeleys during that period. Cole’s talent shines brightest in the scenes between Mary and her mother, revealing the pain of Mary’s shame and her mother’s inability to understand Mary’s determination to remain in the Berkeley household. Equally impressive is Cole’s attempt to unravel the tangled web of the families and loyalties of the peers.
This novel will be enjoyed by anyone interested in the position of women and political turbulence in England at the end of the eighteenth century.
The quotations below encapsulate many of the reasons I chose the novel form for the Berkeley Series.
There is no doubt that fiction makes a better job of the truth.
Nothing factual that I write or say will be as truthful as my fiction.
Biographies are but the clothes and buttons of the man. The biography of the man himself cannot be written.
Like many rich men, he thought in anecdotes; like many simple women, she thought in terms of biography.
Biography lends to death a new terror.
Discretion is not the better part of biography.
Just how difficult it is to write biography can be reckoned by anybody who sits down and considers just how many people know the real truth about his or her love affairs.
One good anecdote is worth a volume of biography.
William Ellery Channing
People think that because a novel's invented, it isn't true. Exactly the reverse is the case. Biography and memoirs can never be wholly true, since they cannot include every conceivable circumstance of what happened. The novel can do that. Anthony Powell
There is no psychology; there is only biography and autobiography.
There is properly no history, only biography.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Biography is the only true history.
I can find my biography in every fable that I read.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Almost any biographer, if he respects facts, can give us much more than another fact to add to our collection. He can give us the creative fact; the fertile fact; the fact that suggests and engenders.
When THE WOLF AND THE LAMB was a Work in Progress, I described it as a biographical novel, a recognised genre in those days. Several months after publication, the tag was changed to 'novelised biography'. This doesn't fit under a ready-made heading, but more accurately describes what's going on. To me, and it seems to readers, 'biographical novel' is opaque, whereas 'novelised biography' sparks curiosity. Who? When? Where? How? Why?
The subtle shift in emphasis has aroused a more focused interest.
Why not just write a biography? It might have been easier! A novelist, whilst using imagination to reconstruct events and decide what hinges upon what, cannot muse upon an historic timeline. A distinct chronology is demanded and, because the story is about real people, it deserves to be as faithful as can be made.
Firstly, I chose the novel form because this woman's experience begged to live in (almost) 3-D. It needed to be a product of the social, cultural, economic, religious and political conflict of the times. The late Georgian era was one of dynamic change to landscape and livelihood and the beginning of a revolution that is still going on. Then there was Bonaparte, the Corsican Monster, on the doorstep. I wanted to make a psychological journey into Mary Cole's life and try to discover how it was for her, how she forced the locks of the oubliette that was the female universe, whilst keeping the reputation lost to her ambitious sisters. There is no doubt that she identified with many of Mary Wollstonecraft's beliefs, but never resorted to aggressive, or even assertive, feminism.
The second reason, and this is bound up with #1, is because I can tell you what appears to be true, but it may not convey the truth about this remarkable lady. Yes, mine is a personal reconstruction and it's possible that there are places I've joined up the dots wrongly. But from ranging wide and delving deep into research documents, trawling through thousands and thousands of records, checking and cross-referencing, this is the basis on which I believe it happened. It proves nothing if not the old adage that truth is stranger than fiction.
As a young novelist, I rifled through less well-known figures of history in a bid to find a subject that snagged attention but hadn't been tackled. On an arts course based in Bath, a visit to Berkeley Castle brought the quest to an end. There, in the drawing-room, flanking one side of the fireplace wall, was the Hoppner painting above. It brought a tingle to the nape. I knew that woman. In spite of her Jane Austen clothes, Mary Cole struck me as modern, a woman whose strength of character shone through her beauty. There is in her a wistfulness, a touch of injury and a resolve not to be defeated by circumstance. She had plenty of confidence, instilled by a mother who saw status as an accident of birth, and a father who strove to provide an education for his daughters, albeit modest, in a local academy.
They were all women of destiny.
The sisters, Ann and Susan, made themselves available among the aristocracy and eventually married well, emigrating to the New World where they daily played out their roles among prosperous merchant bankers and the founders of the American Constitution. Mary, the youngest, was demure, and from the moment the feckless Lord Berkeley spotted her sitting in a bow window in Gloucester with her needlework, he hounded her from every hiding-place, finally resorting to kidnap.
She consorted with all the movers and shakers of her day, including royalty, some of whom were antagonistic and some who genuinely loved her.
Her story has been with me for more than thirty years. I do hope readers will enjoy it, but whatever they make of it, this is my magnum opus. Into Book Three, the story is still evolving and there are more scintillating dots to join up which cast a trenchant light upon the earlier decades and present a whole new tier of consequences. One thing is certain, old enemies die hard and scandal has a life of its own.
It is a fascinating journey which has enriched my life beyond telling.
A Berkeley Castle window through which Mary might have looked out upon her beloved Vale