Have a bit of (Mere Mortals) Gothic!

[erastes]

Well, It’s Holmes, Jim, but not as we know it. Even from the tiny clip I saw of the unwatchable HD trailer (my PC doesn’t like HD much) I could see that the subtext has become text!

Won’t stop me going to see it, even though – I can turn my Holmes Purist off as easily as I can turn my Potter or Tolkien Purist off. :D

For those of you who may have missed my earlier post, I’m blogging today for my weekly column on Jessewave’s blog about Slash Goggles and why I’m a hopeless m/m historical shipper.  If you have trouble with the site (although she has cleaned it up a lot and it’s no longer as picture intensive as it was) try this direct link to the comment section where you can read the post without the images.

Ok chapter 17 done and sent to readers. Need to decide where the hell it’s going now… Want a snippet?  I don’t give you snippets often. And sadly no sex. Sorry.

"Is that the key?" Philip was saying, his voice sounded commanding, but decidedly concerned. "Give it to me."

"Yes sir," a voice answered.

"If he has the key on the inside, sir--" Albert said.

"Let me see first," I heard a metallic sound and then a muffled curse. "It's no good." Philip said. "Witheridge, send—"

I tugged at the key, unlocking the door, and opened it. Dreading the sight on the other side. Philip, in his dressing gown and looking paler than I'd seen him was nearest to me, with Albert a step or two behind him and Myles leaning on the balustrade.

"Thank God," Philip muttered, taking one look at me, he strode into my room and swept me up in his arms as if I were a child, as light as a feather, and carried me back into the room, all the while muttering instructions to fetch water. "Damn it," Philip said, a cool hand touched my brow and I grunted in pain. "The boy's on fire. There's no choice." I tried to open my eyes, but couldn't. I felt his breath ghost over my face and then he spoke very softly. "I'm so sorry, Crispin, I wish there was someone else I could get in a hurry. Albert," the bed creaked as he moved away. "Get downstairs and wait for Tom, tell him to get Baynes here as fast as he can."

"Dr Baynes, sir?" I heard a gasp, and Witheridge's voice speak the question, all at the same time. Then Philip's voice faded, speaking to Witheridge as it did, and I breathed out and tried to relax.

The attack was not as bad as the one I'd had previously and within an hour or so I was well enough to be sitting up and having Albert fuss over me. All my lessons had been cancelled for the day, and I was feeling a little guilty as I lay propped up in bed, a tray of eggs before me. I'd just finished what I could of the food, and Albert took the tray out, letting Philip in as he himself disappeared.  With him, his whiskers just as terrier-like as ever, was the good doctor from my journey, and I slid up in the bed; I'd seen a doctor once or twice at school for childhood ailments, but never been in bed when examined. It seemed rather too intimate, although I knew it was entirely normal, it did not seem so for me, particularly in the recent change of my circumstances.

At my feeble attempts to disengage my legs from the heavy covers, Philip said, "Stay where you are, please. You remember Dr Baynes, of course."

"Of course, how do you do, sir?" I held out my hand, which Baynes shook, with the smallest of smiles as he surveyed me in my throne-like bed.

"Well, sir, quite well. But it seems you are not."

"Headaches only," I said, looking in mute appeal between Baynes and Philip, "it was not necessary—"

"My ward considers that his health is his own responsibility," Philip said, with a firm, quelling look as if to remind me of our earlier conversation. "But it is not. If I am his guardian, I am that in all matters, is that not so, Baynes?"

"Quite right, quite right," the doctor agreed. "Be guided by your guardian, young man. Your care is no longer just your own concern. Now, let me look at you. Philip, you need not stay, he's in good hands."

As the doctor rummaged in the bag he had brought in with him, I looked up to Philip to say thank you but the words stuck in my throat, for Philip was looking a the doctor's back with such loathing it took my breath away. I don't think that for those few seconds he even remembered I was in the room. It was as if he'd just noticed the doctor's presence and had reacted to something utterly filthy, completely loathsome, almost an evil that had walked into his house, trailing vileness in its wake.  Despite the fact that I  I had guessed that all between Philip and Dr Baynes was not well, I couldn't have been prepared for the sheer depth of hatred that showed for a few scant seconds on my guardian's face. Then, just as his fury had vanished before, the expression melted from him, he cast me a quick smile--obviously not having noticed I'd seen him betray his feelings, and left me alone with the doctor.

Comments

[anderyn.livejournal.com]

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. Wants to read MOAR! I like this a lot.

Thanks for the sharing.

[erastes.livejournal.com]

*beams*

Thank you!

[lusiology.livejournal.com]

A ward, a guardian and a dispised doctor. Can't wait to read more.

I finally finished Transgressions last night. I'm too tired to give you an indepth literary review I'm afraid, but I enjoyed it very much. The attention to period detail was much appreciated. And Yay! Nottingham gets a mention, even though the king raising his standard there wasn't (I don't think I missed it mentioned).

Michael was such a deliciously evil individual to read about. I got chills down my spine whenever that knife came out, and the part when he bit Jonathan because he wasn't particularly willing/eager to respond due to his injuries made me realise how much Michael enjoyed inflicting pain. It was interesting to see Jonathan reduced to being in thrall to Michael when much was made at the beginning of the book of his strength both mentally and physically.

I hope Michael got his just desserts. You certainly picked on one of the most frightening periods in our history for ordinary women. It must've been terrifying for anyone who knew someone held a grudge against them. I had heard of the Witch-finder General due to the Vincent Price film, but I didn't know that he was paid so much for each 'witch'. What a money making racket! All those poor, innocent, defenceless women murered for money. I was also surprised to read that he was only around 30 when he died. If hell does exist, he deserves to be there.

At the end I found that I wanted to know more about how Jonathan rose to the postition he was in, and was curious as to whether or not David's father was alive and what happened to that minx Elizabeth.

[erastes.livejournal.com]

I don't think I used the phrase "raising the standard" but it's definitely mentioned in the second chapter, when Jonathan explains which city he's been working in, and David wants to know more.

I'm glad you enjoyed it! Thank you! The Vincent Price film is an anathema, truly. *shudder* - and yes, he was employed by the government, on contract to seek out the witches and was planning on extending his operation to the west towards Cambridge when his public support failed, and the operation ground to a halt as parliament withdrew their support. There are several stories about his death, some say he was tried for a witch himself, some say he died of an illness early on, and some say that he lived to a ripe old age. I tend to go with the former, I think... I hope so anyway. He was the worst of frauds. Worse than Michael in a way, because Michael really believed he was doing good, and Hopkins was just being paid per body.

I have to say I was going to write in the intervening few years - but the book would have been 250,000 words and would have never have sold! Perhaps one day I'll be able to write it.

Thank you once again, hun!

[lusiology.livejournal.com]

I was going to write in the intervening few years

I can understand how Jon would work his way up the ladder, it was more curiosity as to how he got his foot on the rung.

Makes you wonder how the authorities couldn't see that offering so much per witch would encourage fraud, unless, of course, they saw it as a way to keep people distracted from the main events of the day.

[erastes.livejournal.com]

I don't think it was a case of being distracted, East Anglia was firmly in the Cromwellian camp anyway, and one of the least affected in matters of troops and battles--I think he saw an opportunity where he could make money and went for it, while matters were distracted on the war. It was very shortly after the war when attention focussed on what he was doing.

And Jon got his first foot on the ladder with Bacon - he was a real character and a spy (alledgedly) for Cromwell, so going to Cambridge and working for him there was his start.

[feed-your-muse.livejournal.com]

Thanks for the link to the comments + pic free text on Jessewave (forgot about that aspect of Blogger!)

I enjoyed reading the excerpt - very intrigued now.

Also, I can report that Amazon UK have finally done their duty and sent me my copy of Transgressions. That will be my reading pleasure over the Bank Holiday while my housemate is listening to authors and getting her books signed in Hay.

Merry

=^..^=

[erastes.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I hope that 1. Perseus continues with the line 2. they want it, or 3. someone else does!!

I hope you enjoy Transgressions! *hides under bed*