The Trouble with Lords-Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Lydia Hardsgrove, one of the inhabitants of Little Hetwidge, did not believe in the stories of Brantwell hall. She knew for a fact that the current lord was not a hideous monster as some would believe or at least he hadn’t been ten years ago when she last saw him at the age of eighteen. To her he had been a hero since she was twelve and over the years she would get glimpses of him riding down the road from the castle into the village on his way to London and he seemed so happy and free and full of life. She always wished she could be that free but she knew that would never happen since she wasn’t rich like him and she was also female, which to her felt like being in prison and no sense of freedom. Her father owned the local bookshop and so she grew up loving the world of books and the escape they offered. She would sit in the shop for hours with her father and just read all the books that he had and escape to wonderful countries like India and China and never have to leave the little town she loved so much. Her mother had passed away when she was twelve so her father was left raising her and to Lydia he did a wonderful job and there were some things she had to learn from the ladies of the village but they all took her under their wing and made sure she learned all that she needed to know and if curiosity got the better of her she would sneak to the back of the shop and find the books that her father would say were forbidden.  Her father had also passed six months ago so the village felt the devastation of losing two wonderful men in just a space of a few days.  Many mourned the losses in their own way and the people of the village tried to help Lydia any way that they could except for one.  Sir Cranwell, who was once a friend of her father’s,  paid his respects on the day of the funeral and about three months later he came to Lydia and started asking her to marry him and she kept refusing him.

She had at first liked Sir Cranwell and respected him due to his former friendship with her father but he was twenty years older than her and she didn’t love him and she didn’t feel it was right. She had been engaged once but her fiancé had left to fight in the war and had not returned so she had presumed that he had died and with his death she swore she would not let her heart be broken again and that she would dedicate her life to her father and to the shop. She thought that her life would be content with these two things in her life but sometimes she did wish for more.

One day as she was sitting in the shop waiting for customers to come and purchase books she looked out the window and up the hill to where Brownley hall was and thought about Lord Brantwell and how he must be feeling with the loss of his father. She knew he must feel devastated just as she did, but she wondered if he was truly okay and she thought maybe she could cheer him up and take up some of her favorite books as a gesture of kindness and see if he remembered her.  For the past few days it had been cloudy and raining and she had stayed inside but today it was a beautiful sunny day so she picked out a few of her favorite books and put them in her satchel and walked to the door and went out and turned around and locked the door and posted a sign saying that the shop would be closed for the rest of the day but she would be back tomorrow. As she was walking along the road she saw Mrs. Wilkerson, the town gossip. 

            “Oh, no.” She thought to herself.  “Please don’t see me. I really don’t want to talk to her today. She is so nosey and if I give anything away about where I am going she will have it spread all over the village by the end of the day and I won’t have any peace.”  But luck was not on her side.

            “Lydia dear, how are you? “

            “Hello Mrs. Wilkerson. I am fine. How are you on this beautiful day?”

            “I’m fine Lydia. I see your shop is closed. Are you unwell?” 

            “No Mrs. Wilkerson. I’m fine. I just thought I would close the shop early and go for a walk since it wasn’t raining and the weather is so beautiful.”

            “Yes, you are quite right. It is a beautiful day. God has decided to bless us with a beautiful day after all that rain. I am very happy with this and I hope it stays like this for a while.”

            “Oh me too, me too. How’s is your daughter Amelia?”

            “She is doing wonderful. Did I tell you that Archibald Desmond is courting her? Mr. Wilkerson and I think he might propose any day now. But you didn’t hear that from me. I don’t want to ruin anything by being too pushy. You should come by the house sometime and say hello to Amelia. I know she would love to see you.”

            “I very much doubt it.” Lydia said to herself but said instead, “I will have to do that Mrs. Wilkerson. Well I should be on my way. I don’t want to waste anymore of this beautiful day. I guess I will see you in church on Sunday if not before.”

            “Yes of course dear. Have a wonderful day and we’ll see you on Sunday.”

            “Good day Mrs. Wilkerson.”  

            “Good day Lydia.”

Lydia headed down the road and down past the end of the village and then made a left to take the road that would lead to Brownley hall and she turned to make sure that Mrs. Wilkerson wasn’t watching her, but by then Mrs. Wilkerson was gone. Lydia breathed a sigh of relief and continued up the road.  As she climbed she started to feel out of breath as if someone was standing on her chest and would not get off. She stopped for a minute and then started back up the road again but as she got closer and closer to the castle she felt like it was getting harder and harder to breathe. She just figured it was due to the higher elevation and just shrugged it off. She stopped at the top of the road for a moment and caught her breath before she headed up the lane.  She thought about turning around and heading back down but she knew that she couldn’t. Something had made her come this far and she knew she couldn’t turn back now. She had made the decision to come to Brownley hall and see Lord Brantwell once again. He might not remember her but she remembered him and she wanted to see for herself if the rumors were true and that the image she had last had of him was not a dream.

Brant stood at the window that faced out over the village and stood still as a statue. He wondered what had happened to himself over the years and would he ever be the same person again?  He had heard the rumors that he was a hideous monster and so disfigured that no one wanted to see him. He had also heard the rumor that he had killed his first wife but only he knew the truth and as far as he was concerned no one would find out what actually happened. That was his cross to bear and bear it he would.  He was deciding whether he should make another trip to London when out of the corner of his eye he spotted movement down on the road. At first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him as it often did but after he fully looked he realized that someone was indeed coming up the road to the castle. He wasn’t expecting anyone and he knew most people would not venture up to Brownley Hall because they feared that it was indeed haunted and they would not come out alive. As he stood there he saw a figure in a white coat come up the road but he couldn’t see their face. 

            “Smithfield.” Brant yelled.

The door to the library opened and Brant heard footsteps behind him.

            “Yes your lordship.”

            “I just saw someone coming up the road to the castle. Go find out what they want and get rid of them. I am not accepting any invitations to any of the so called balls they are planning down in the village. I am not receiving visitors at this time nor at any time. I do not wish to be disturbed.”

            “Very good your lordship, I will see who it is and tell them that you are not receiving.”

            “Thank you Smithfield. Let me know who it was and what they wanted.”

            “Yes your lordship.”

With that Brant heard Smithfield leave the room and heard the door close. 
            “Well that should be easy. I don’t know who would dare come up here without an invitation and I know I haven’t sent out any, nor do I plan on doing so.”

After about five or ten minutes Brant heard the door open once again and footsteps behind him.

            “Well did you get rid of them?”

            “Excuse me, what do you mean get rid of?”

            Brant turned around at the sound of a female voice that did not belong to his butler Smithfield.

            “Who are you and how did you get past Smithfield? Smithfield, get in here now.”

            “I’m sorry Lord Brantwell, I didn’t mean to intrude and I don’t mean to get Mr. Smithfield in trouble. I told him you and I were old acquaintances and that you would see me.” Lydia said.

            “I don’t know who you are Miss and I explicitly told Smithfield not to admit anyone.”

            “I know that your lordship and Mr. Smithfield told me but I told him that I was an exception.”

            “Well I don’t know who you are so you can just turn right back around and leave at once.” Brant said woodenly.

            “I am sorry to intrude. I just wanted to see how you were in person and see if the rumors were indeed true. The last time we met was ten years ago but I didn’t think you would actually remember and I can see that I was right. I also brought you some of my favorite books that I thought you might like. I couldn’t remember if your father had any books here that were for enjoyment or not. And speaking of your father, I am sorry for your loss. I myself just lost my father six months ago.”

            “Thank you for your words but I am fine and I don’t need anyone seeing to my comfort and I don’t need anything to read. I am quite busy with estate business and it takes up most of my time. Now if you’ll excuse me I must get back to business. Smithfield will show you out.”   

            “Very well then, I have come to see what I needed to see and to my chagrin you have indeed changed and for that I am truly sorry. I had hoped you were still the same person I knew ten years ago but I can see now that you have indeed changed. I hope you stay well and succeed in your endeavors. I am sorry to have bothered you, good day your lordship.”

            “Good day Miss?”

            “It’s Miss Hardsgrove.”

            “Good day then Miss Hardsgrove.”

 Lydia turned and left the library and went out into the hallway. She paused for a moment and almost turned back around to say something more to him but she kept quiet and turned around once more and began to leave.  As she was nearing the door she spotted a table sitting in the hallway, she walked over and opened up her satchel and pulled the books out and placed them on the table. 

            “Maybe he will actually get around to reading them some day.” She thought to herself.  She walked out the door and headed back down to the village of Little Hetwidge.

The Trouble with Lords-Chapter 1

Everyone in Little Hetwidge thought Brownley Hall was haunted. It sat up on a lonely hill and overlooked the land as if a great giant was looking down waiting to stomp on anyone that got in the way. The castle was very ornate and quite beautiful. It had six levels that seemed to reach towards the sky and the middle three layers had balconies with roofs and archways that were six feet tall and about fifteen feet wide a person could actually stand out on during a rain storm and be dry. To the left of the castle walls was a tall tower that was gray and round and seemed to stretch towards the sky as if it were actually touching the clouds high above. Towards the top was another tiny tower that was also round and gray and had a top that looked like a witch’s hat. It had been used as a nursery and so many generations of children played in that room and looked out the tiny little window that faced the south and could look down on the village and to the lands below and dream of flying. There were a lot of trees in the front of the castle that blocked the entrance and from a distance the castle gave the impression of rising up from the trees.  The inhabitants inside were a different story all together. 

On really rainy days if a person stood at the bottom of the hill and looked up at the castle and saw the lightning hit just right they would swear that they saw ghosts flying high above the castle walls. For years there had been rumors that the Brantwells were indeed cursed and that every male would be doomed to live an unhappy life because of something that an ancestor had done in the past but no one was able to prove that story true. But as the years progressed the villagers believed in the rumor and so they sighed and said the Brantwell’s had once again been hit by the curse. 

Lord Jeffrey Brantwell, known to his friends as Brant, was the newest male to inherit the family fortune and the castle since his father had passed away six months ago. Not many people actually got to see him since he seemed to stay in the castle and never come down to the village, so the people figured that he was a monster and didn’t want to be seen. He was quite handsome and strong and his features showed he was a man. Even though he wasn’t classically handsome there was something about his personality that drew women to him to find out his secrets. But there were times when they feared if they figured out his secret that he would figure out theirs. He had lived a full life for thirty-two years and he was quite content. He was six foot three and had thick brown hair that had hints of grey at the temples and he had deep blue eyes that could pierce a person’s soul if they got too close. His nose wasn’t straight and had a ridge on the top where he had gotten into a fight in his youth and won. He was broad shouldered and his clothes fit him very well and when he went to London the tailors were always happy to see him.

He had many offers to attend functions in the tiny village but because he had just returned six months ago he didn’t feel like he had the time to attend such gatherings nor did he like social gatherings. So he just either sent notes of regret or ignored the invitations. Some of the villagers who thought they were the elite set thought of him as a snob and too big for his britches but some understood and they hoped that maybe they would be the lucky ones who broke through and had him attend one of their parties.

Ideas for books

People always tell me to write about my life and how I have become the person I am today. I always tell them my life isn't that interesting. Believe me no one wants to read about my life. I am as Plain Jane as they come. Sometimes I think of myself as Jane Eyre although I was never a governess, lol, but sometimes I think I did belong in a different time period and I don't know what I would be if I did live in a different time era. I have my love of the Regency of England and the Civil War here in the United States. I wonder would I be the rich beautiful heiress or would I be the lonely slave who had no idea what it meant to be free and do all the things that I have dreamed of?

I was born, I grew up and I have lived. I can't quote the exact way that Dickens started out Oliver Twist or was it David Copperfield? I always get them confused on the opening line but he had a point. We are all born and it is up to us how we live. I have done things in my past that I am not proud of and there are some things that I am very proud of. Sometimes I find myself in my stories and I am like how did that happen? And there are times when I do intentionally put my life in the story and change the outcome so I can feel a little bit better and have a way to release my frustrations. 

When I was in college I tried to write a story of my life in college and my friends I had there but I never finished that one and then I tried to write one about how my life was different than it really was and it was much happier than what I had been through. That didn't get finished either. Then I started a story about 3 little boys who were ghosts and and a girl and her two sisters and set that one in Jefferson City, Missouri since I wanted to showcase the history of the town but that one is still left unfinished, hoping to one day see the light and become a book. The other story I started was a result of me being extremely irritated and frustrated with my parents and so I took the idea of having vampires attacking the family and the girl having to deal with the loss and leaving the town to start over again. It too is still sitting there waiting to finish telling me it's story. See the patttern?  My lastest one which is fully written but waiting to get completely revised is set in England and she is a bookstore owner, which I wanted to own my own bookstore at one time and a part of me still does, and her dealing with an egostical male, not that I have met too many of them. Most of the men I have met have been uncommitted to relationships and pretty much geeks, not that it's a totally bad thing but sometimes I wonder.

I always have ideas running through my head and thanks to a wonderful friend and fellow writer I now carry a notebook in my purse to write down the ideas when they come to me. There are a few ideas sitting there but not going very far. I have to try and stick with one and finish it and then go back and fix the others. They will stay put and maybe one day they will tell their story to me.

I did have an idea one day while watching Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters with my niece. What is Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs were zombie hunters???????????? I mean come on, it's not that far fetched. LOL. I mean if they can make Honest Abe a Vampire Hunter why not Snow White? Just an idea. Hehehehe. 

Also I know I am a writer at heart when I tell a co-worker that there could be a story written about an ice machine that turns into a monster. Not completely sure where that one would have led but it was an idea. 

That's what I love about writing and even baking. Through words or even cake or food you can express your feelings and at the same time tell some sort of story.

The beginning

Hi my name is Jacqueline Kay Veltrop Lycke. I know long name but it is the name I was born with and then got married and divorced from and never changed it. I was born on August 2, 1969 and I am one of the last of the sixties generation. Where has the time gone? I was born in Mesa, Arizona and my dad was in the Air Force so I was considered a military brat for some of my life but even now I still consider myself one even though my dad got out in May of 1970. I have had a long interesting and sometimes boring life depending on who you talk to. I have an older half brother who I haven't seen in over thirty years, a younger full blooded brother, James, who passed away from cancer almost 3 years ago at the age of 37. He was a great brother and sometimes a pain in my ass but he was my brother and I loved him. I have two other younger half brothers and I have yet to see either one of them. 

My parents were divorced in 1975 and so my brother, Jimmy, and I were left with my biological mom who was not the greatest mom in the world but she did what she could or least I think she did. I don't have a lot of memories of that time and sometimes I wonder if that's a good thing or not. When my dad and stepmom (#1) got married in 1976 they filed for custody of my brother and I and won, so on March 17, 1977 we went to live with them in Clovis, NM and that day was our "anniversary". That alone is another story in itself and I will delve into it later. This is more of an intro to me and who I am today. There are many "stories" to be told and they will be told in time. In 1984, my parents divorced and stepmom #1 adopted us on October 18th. We were fine for a time and it was hard since the split occured around Christmas but we made it and all went okay. Later she met someone else and seemed to be happy. 

As for me, I got married on July 10,1993 and then following year on July 6th, 1994 I had my wonderful son Dominic Andrew. He was the one bright life in my life. I never regretted having him and now 18 years later he still is the best accomplishment I have made in my life.

As for my writing I have been doing that off and on for over 40 years or close to it. No, I didn't start writing at age three but I did start back in elementary school with the tale of a spider who lived in the corner of my bedroom. I don't remember the whole story now since it was soooo long ago but I do remember it was one of my first stories. And my other passion is books. I haven't read too much lately because I have been so busy with work but I love books and maybe that combined with my love of writing has kept me somewhat sane over the years.

I always got accused of living in a fantasy world because I read a lot and stayed in my room quite a bit and didn't have a lot of friends but it was hard to make friends and trust and I still have that problem today. Too many people have burned me who I thought were my friends so I have built walls that are hard to take down because I think I can trust someone with my life and my secrets and they turn around and stab you in the back and it hurts when it happens and it has happened to me way to many times and yet I try again thinking it will be different and it never is.

I have always loved romance, even though my real life is no fairy tale or a romance with a happy ending. I am not totally cynical, yet but there are days when I feel like I am close. Holidays don't mean that much to me anymore but just reinforce how alone I am really am and what have I done wrong to be in this situation.  I have tried to journal my feelings in my writing and from past experiences it is hard to write down what I feel. I feel like one day it will end up in the wrong hands and all hell will break loose. It's like if I write it down I will be exposed and it will hurt if someone uses it against me. But I know I have friends in this world who are behind me 100% and have never let me down and are there for me and support me no matter what and to them I am thankful.

So as I go along with this new blog I hope to write down some of the stories of my life and how I have tried to develop as a writer and the friends I have made along the way who have been my cheerleaders and have given me some sound advice. I might even include some excerpts from the three books I have started. One is completely finished and need revision the other two are still waiting for completion.

Thanks to you Avery, Linda, Valerie and Adam and the rest of the Jefferson City Writer's Group, who without them I would not have rekindled my love of writing and making the attempt to finally publish a book.

Jefferson City Writer's Group

While I am sitting here waiting for the Superbowl to get back on track and watch the Raven womp all over the 49ers I decided to write a little blog on my encounter with the wonderful people at the Jefferson City Writer's group. When I lived in Missouri I didn't do much writing and I was starting to feel like something was missing in my life so I went searching on the library's website and found that there was group who met once a month and did writing. I decided to take a chance and go. I was nervous at first because I did not know anyone and I wasn't sure what to expect. Little did I know at the time that I would end making some wonderful friends who would be with me for the rest of my life.

I pulled up to the library parking lot on that Wednesday night, notebook and pen in hand and a little bit of nervousness too. I took the stairs up to the gallery where they were holding the meeting and met the person who was running the group, Adam. He introduced himself and I told him who I was and that I was interested in joining the group and he said welcome. So I sat at the table and put down my notebook and pen and waited for the rest of the group to appear. The first night I went there weren't alot of people there because sometimes there is a big group and other times it might just be one or two people. It just depended on what was going on that particular month. At seven o'clock more people came in and sat down and then we went around the table and introduced ourselves and told what we like to write and how far we were in the journey of writing. I was a little intimidated at first with how far many of these people were and I wondered if I was in the right group but they never made me feel inadequate and encouraged my writing.

That first night we did a quick writing prompt and we picked a picture that was on the wall and wrote about what we saw. I wrote about a yucca plant since it reminded me of New Mexico. Everyone was very encouraging with what I had written and I felt wonderful. I was like wow I am in the right place and there are people who want to encourage me to write and not tell me that I have nothing but a pipe dream of writing the next Great American novel. I was felt alive again and hopeful and I had found an outlet for my feelings and frustrations and I felt like I belonged.

That was almost four years ago and somewhere I think I might still have that writing prompt. And so started my journey back into writing and doing what I love and expressing my feelings on what I wanted with no fears of being ridiculed or looked down on.

Through the group I was able to write down what I wanted and got some good ideas from some of the writing prompts and a couple of times I was told expand the prompt into a story. Still haven't done that yet but maybe one day I will go back and turn them into a story of some sort.  

When I left for Texas with my family and left my wonderful group I still kept in touch with them and even did a writing prompt or two via email but it wasn't the same. I missed the interaction and the friends I had made and when one of my fellow writers was about to be published I was so happy for him and I could now say I know a published author. I was sad to go and missed them a lot and then when I went back a year later to be in Missouri once again do to family issues they welcomed me back like an old friend who they had missed greatly and encouraged me to keep going with my work. And they were sad to see me go once again when I made the decision to come back to Texas, which I still wonder why. But through it all I have made some wonderful friends and two of them are near and dear to my heart because I can tell them anything and they won't put me down and make me feel stupid or small. Thanks guys. Also just this past year another one of my fellow writer's got published and I hurried to buy his book so that I had it to keep in my collection. It is nice to be able to say you know a published author and how much you aspire to be the same.

During National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWri) I had my group behind me to finish my novel but I fell short and they encouraged me to finish anyway and I did finally on December 31st. Thanks to the pushes and shoves (figuratively) and the drive to get it accomplished. I just now need to revise it and see if it's worth trying to get published. 

Thanks guys for standing behind me. I appreciate it and will never forget.