Romeo & Juliet in Regency England Misses the Mark

Excellent Premise — Delivery Fails Miserably

When I first saw the Table of Contents, I thought this late Regency romance was going to be a fun ride. Who could resist chapter titles such as “Fops Aplenty” or “Back to the Baying Hounds”? Of course, I had initially been intrigued by the title. Back in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, women didn’t go on Grand Tour’s of the continent like young men did. (BTW, as this late Regency, there are no worries about Napoleon.)

Unfortunately, I was just about immediately turned off by the story itself once I started reading it, on at least four fronts: a childish heroine, a data dump start, little and poorly written dialogue, and overblown narrative writing.

Abby Westerhall (the heroine) is the rather spoiled and somewhat conceited daughter of a minor baron. She is apparently bored with all the men in England after three seasons and further determines she will not marry until she sees some of the world. Her mother acquiesces and takes her on a Grand Tour including France and Italy–in part because she hopes exposure to a greater world will show her daughter her own limitations.

For the first 6% or so, the book is all narrative prose; I think there might have been a line of dialogue that was referenced but not shown in a scene. The prose is heavy for a romance and laced with strange words (some of which I couldn’t find defined on the internet). The voice of the narrator is strangely distant as it looks into the minds and follows the actions of the characters–what I would call an omniscient viewpoint gone wrong. There are screens and screens of telling (not truly showing) about Abby’s background, her world, and her run-ins with men she believes are beneath her notice.

What dialogue there is after that highly narrative first 6% is very stilted; no character speaks naturally. For Abby, imagine a breathy Regency England version of Scarlett O’Hara. It was grating to read “oh, mother!” or “maman” constantly. Fiddle-dee-dee. The text, too, was rife with grammatical and punctuation errors–rampant with far too many commas in places but missing crucial ones as well.

The premise had HUGE promise. I love the idea of a young Regency lady having a Grand Tour like the young men of the time often did. In the hands of a skilled author, the concept of this book would have been a breath of fresh air in a genre that is often afflicted with sameness. Unfortunately, that promise was not delivered.

I received a free advance copy of this book, but this–obviously–did not affect my review.

A Very Strange Guest at a Regency House Party

What an odd little book! I was at first taken in by a good description of the London docks in Regency England and was intrigued at the idea of having a heroine whose family was decidedly middle class and on the skids. Beatrice and her merchant ship owner father live on the bad side of town in a squalid little house. But then it got weird…

After that opening, we are abruptly taken to a carriage ride heading to a house party in the country. Beatrice is accompanying her best friend, Marina, a newly minted viscountess, and her husband. Beatrice is meant to be a guest of her friend’s, but for whatever reason, Beatrice feels like she must “pay her way” during the party and offers her services in the kitchen to the housekeeper when that lady shows Beatrice to her room. Huh? The housekeeper only questions her abilities, not her desire to do so. The lord of the manor doesn’t really seem to question this either, and Beatrice becomes the caretaker for the ailing dowager countess…all while the party is going on. Honestly, it feels like a plot device to ingratiate Beatrice into the earl’s inner circle; if the author wanted Beatrice to become the dowager’s caretaker … there had to be a more realistic way.

Beatrice demands a room in the servants’ quarters (not the guest wing where she had been put); she turns down the offer of proper servant’s clothing because she prefers to wear her threadbare clothes, not wanting to feel beholden to the earl for clothing(?!). She goes so far as to work in the kitchen as well as take care of the earl’s mother, pushing herself to the physical brink. Oh, my! What guest at a Regency house party would do this? Too, I would think her friend would be a little miffed that Beatrice would choose to be a servant of the house instead of enjoying her time with her as a guest–as intended. (Interestingly, Marina didn’t seem to really notice until two weeks into the house party when she mentions to Beatrice that she hasn’t seen her much!)

Oddness, oddness!

Besides this aspect of the plot, there were other oddities as well. At one point, Beatrice is referred to as a Lady … yes, with a capital “L.” A marquess suddenly shows up as a rather intimate friend of the earl at the 30% mark–and a couple of weeks into the house party. He was just called “the Marquess,” so I couldn’t pair him up with any other character. It was eventually revealed. Another oddity that made my eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling was when the earl told Beatrice (about his mother’s ailments): “Her symptoms are very severe and fatal at times, but there are good days.” Again, oh, my! How does one have occasionally fatal symptoms? Reminded me of the Rowan Atkinson sketch called “Fatal Beatings.”

At the quarter mark (often Act 1 in stories), a sinister element was added to the mix that really wasn’t led up to properly; it wasn’t a natural turning point of the main romantic plot either. And I never did figure out how the title of the book was relevant.

All in all, this story was just odd. I actually kept reading it just to see what other strange things would happen.

I received a free advance copy of this book, but–obviously–this did not affect my review