#harrowby

[thecreakingdoor]

Nice to spot a bit of biodiversity on a patch of disused land in Harrowby, which has long been used as an unofficial dump. “Glory of the snow” - Scilla forbesii is actually native to west Turkey but the common blue form seeds freely in many English gardens. We’re a long way from a garden here so maybe the seeds caught a magic carpet ride to get here. . . . #harrowby #wildflowerslincolnshire #lincolnshire #wildflowers #springflowers #scillaforbesii #gloryofthesnow #gloryofthesnowflowers #chionodoxa #starflower #bluestarflower #wildflowersuk #biodiversity #recultivation #rewilding (at Harrowby, Lincolnshire) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqdSQd2oNGg/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[chaosinthehouse]

Ok so we decided to start sharing my OCs. I’ll probably take y’all through the plot though it doesn’t start getting super dramatic till 6th/7th year, and right now they’re in 1st soo….

anyways this is Christian Harrowby. I’m terrible at remembering last names so this will probably change.

He’s on the autism spectrum, he’s gay, and he loves reading, and making stuff. His mother and unborn sister died in an explosion caused by a failed experiment of his when he was seven, and has blamed himself for their deaths ever since. In his mind he always has to be the best and the cleverest and when he gets something wrong he really hates himself. In his mind, no one else can get hurt because he was too stupid. I’m honestly overly attached to him, which is why I decided he wouldn’t die at the end, unlike the original plan.

[thegothiclibrary]

Humorous Ghost Stories

Not every ghost story has to be terrifying! Indeed, horror and humor are surprisingly similar modes of writing—both depend on eliciting certain emotional reactions from the reader through carefully timed revelations and unexpected juxtapositions. Horror can all too easily give way into unintentional humor, as any connoisseur of schlocky B-movies can tell you. But that blurred line can also be…

[bethanydelleman]

How would the Austen Heroes act during their wives pregnancies?

You also asked about the heroines, I deleted that question by mistake because I thought it was a glitch. I will answer both now.

I did a bunch of research on pregnancy in the Regency era a while ago for my Pride & Prejudice sequel and I'm going to give a general answer: pregnancy was treated fairly causally as far as I have read.

This is from a well researched article:

During the Regency, there was no prohibition against pregnant women appearing in public, and many of them led active social lives throughout their pregnancies. While in her ninth month of her third pregnancy in 1805, Frances, Lady Churchill continued to attend parties and went to the opera on June 11. She gave birth on June 28. There was no prohibition on travel, either. During the last trimester of her first pregnancy in 1810, Harriet, Lady Granville, and her husband visited the country seats of his family members in Staffordshire, Gloucestershire and Cheshire.

There were some women who refrained from activity due to reasons of health, for example, when suffering from nausea during the first trimester. They might even make their condition an excuse to avoid unpleasant engagements, but a lady who was too indolent might be criticized. “Lady Jersey is to be confined in March,” wrote Lady Harrowby in 1807, and “to secure this, she does not move off her Couch, nor will she risk the exertion of holding a glass up to her mouth, so that all this is done for her.” Perhaps one might excuse Lady Jersey for her worries, however; her first pregnancy had not been successful.

Also, this is a very interesting quote about expecting an heir:

“You should not be anticipating boys,” wrote a gentleman to his expectant sister in 1815, “because you subject yourself to disappointment and the poor little girl does not meet with a fair reception. Not withstanding this wise advice, I hope to hear of an heir.”

All of that said, I can't tell you how the heroes and heroines would react because I think a lot of it would be down to how their pregnancy went and how they felt. I was miserably sick and constantly tired during my first pregnancy, much better during the second, and I'm sure I acted very differently but it had nothing to do with my personality (except that I didn't complain that much because I don't like to, Mary Musgrove would have milked it...). Some people love being pregnant, others hate it, others are neutral. And the births themselves range from easy to nightmarish (oh the stories you hear after you have a baby!) None of the heroines are really prone to complaining for pity either.

Otherwise, did they miscarry or have a stillbirth first? (1/5 pregnancies end in a spontaneous miscarriage in the first trimester even today, but both miscarriage and stillbirth were more common in the past) Did their first child die? Did their mother or a close relation die in childbirth? These things we don't know and they would likely change the person's reaction to pregnancy. Everyone would be nervous during the birth and the first 3 months, those who had lost someone would likely be more nervous. A parent would feel that their baby is safer after the first year was over.

Women did know childbirth was dangerous, many wrote wills right before they gave birth, but it was also just a part of life. It was part of the mix of joy and sorrow that everyone experienced.

[word-ghost]

an unfavorable attachment // 3

It should have been easy to convince Lord Harrowby that this would be unwise. 

Or rather, Harvey attending the Millworths’ party at all had been unwise. Sneaking away to the garden with Eleanora had been imprudent, at best. Barreling through the ballroom after Lord Harrowby, to prevent his niece's governess from meeting a potential suitor, would be idiocy. 

But examined at a certain angle in the dim light of the card room, after a swiftly downed drink, the idea appeared almost sensible. 

He could admit it shouldn’t have mattered that their brief encounter with this suitor’s brother had been less than pleasant. Since his return to the mainland, few of Harvey’s interactions with a certain set had been any better. It was nothing he wouldn’t have expected. 

Nor was it a surprise that Eleanora’s mother, who wanted nothing more than to see her daughter wed, would have arranged an introduction to an eligible match.

Eleanora once described these encounters as painfully awkward and inevitably fruitless. She professed to lack whatever charms were necessary in attracting a gentleman—or at least one able to meet her mother’s unbendable standards. Harvey could not count himself among their number, but he’d had months to wonder how anyone could not grow to appreciate her. 

It didn’t occur to him, at first, to wonder whether she’d given any of them the chance. 

Despite her amiability, he had learned how guarded she could be. And how stubborn. She was herself with him, even if she sometimes tried not to be. 

And as sure as Harvey was that he should not have kissed her again, he was without a doubt she had wanted him to. 

“She will not be interested,” Harvey offered, once he and Harrowby were alone again at the table. He didn’t allow himself the smallest smile, even as its warmth welled in his chest.

“She doesn’t have to be,” Harrowby spat back. “Any interest on his part, and her mother will latch on. If there is any hope of seeing Eleanora married, she’ll never permit her to return to Westwood Hall.”

The light in Harvey’s heart dimmed. What few hazy images he had of a hypothetical future dissipated. Never once had he considered she wouldn’t always be a part of his life in Pelican Port, even if only in fleeting moments, when he visited the Harrowbys.

If she didn’t come back—suitor or otherwise—Harvey couldn’t be sure their paths would ever cross again. Harrowby would have to hire a replacement, and who could predict where Eleanora might end up then?

The thought was torment. When Harrowby suggested again that they intervene, he felt himself nod and rise from the table. If this might be the last time he would see her, Harvey couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye. 

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[pitt-able]

(...) his life departed like a candel burning out

On this day in history, January 23, 1806, William Pitt the Younger, Prime Minister of Great Britain died aged 46 at Bowling Green House on Putney Heath.

At three o’clock on Wednesday Colonel Taylor arrived express from His Majesty at Windsor, and returned with the melancholy [news] of all hopes having ceased. I remained the whole of Wednesday night with Mr. Pitt. His mind seemed fixed on the affairs of the country, and he expressed his thoughts aloud, though sometimes incoherently. He spoke a good deal concerning a private letter from Lord Harrowby, and frequently inquired the direction of the wind; then said, answering himself, “East; ah! that will do; that will bring him quick:” at other times seemed to be in conversation with a messenger, and sometimes cried out “Hear, hear” as if in the House of Commons. During the time he did not speak he moaned considerably, crying, “O dear! O Lord!” Towards twelve the rattles came in his throat, and proclaimed approaching dissolution.

(…) at about half past two Mr. Pitt ceased moaning, and did not speak or make the slightest sound for some time, as his extremities were then growing chilly. I feared he was dying; but shortly afterwards, with a much clearer voice than he spoke in before, and in a tone I never shall forget, he exclaimed, “Oh, my country! how I love my country!” From that time he never spoke or moved, and at half-past four expired without a groan or struggle. His strength being quite exhausted his life departed like a candle burning out.

Earl Stanhope, The Life of the Right Honourable William Pitt, Vol. 4, John Murray, London, 1862, pp. 381-382.

[thiefbird]

six sentence sunday

I am Really Feeling the spirit of Community this sunday so I am starting my own branch of the Six Sentence Sunday tag game.

Share six yet to be posted sentences from any WIP! This is from the upcoming fifth chapter of Thy Heart Torments (because My Heart and Eyes Have Erred is still in stageplay format)

He debated refusing, naturally: it would be little less than torture - a comparison Stephen used with a new gravity - to pretend they were as they always had been, surrounded by the jovial and inevitably intoxicated boors with whom he begrudgingly shared the gunroom's few luxuries. But to refuse would necessitate a private audience with Jack, and he did not yet trust his resolve to hold were they to be alone. He had not seen Jack hardly at all since they had agreed to no more speak of their attempted intimacies, and they had not spoken a word to each other at all; he feared that his will would shatter like glass in a gale at a single look, and he could not stand to either be embraced or rejected were he to throw himself at Jack. And so, at four bells in the afternoon watch that Thursday, Stephen Maturin was begrudgingly dressed and in somewhat presentable order at the door of the great cabin. Jack was never one to much stand on ceremony with regards to seating at his dinners - inevitably Stephen sat to one side or the other of him, a lieutenant to the other, and the other sorted themselves out - but today a disagreeable-looking Stephen lodged himself near the far end of the table opposite young Mr Joliffe - an awkward and uncomfortably spotty mid - and between Babbington - in his role as Surprise's third lieutenant - and the master, Mr Harrowby. He could feel Jack's mournful gaze on him, and resolutely kept his attention on the prating anecdote Mr Joliffe was in the process of butchering until its pressure receded.

I am tagging @aurpiment @glowing-blue-feathermage @tea42 and also anyone else who wants to share! Please tag me in your posts <3

[vikingsong]

WIP Wednesday (5/17/23)

In which Arthur’s three younger housemates have *vastly* different experiences on Day 1 of the fire-breathing aliens’ invasion…

Arthur cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Have you heard anything from Moe? I couldn’t reach him.”

Harrowby heaved a longsuffering sigh. “Moe is fine.” Sarcasm dripped from his words, and a weight lifted from Arthur’s chest. “You won’t believe what he—no, actually, you probably will.”

“Believe what?”

“So after Marc and I spent half the day hiking home through the sewer tunnels to avoid getting flambéed above ground, we arrived back at the house…only to find Moe just sitting upstairs, writing his midterm paper. Bedroom curtains shut, phone off, noise canceling headphones, cup of tea and biscuits, the works! Had no idea anything was amiss until Marc barged into their room—stinking and swearing profusely in French—in search of clean clothes.”

Arthur snorted at the image—and regretted it as a fresh jolt of pain shot up his arm. “Ow, don’t make me laugh.”

“Blame it on Moe,” Harrowby huffed lightly. “I swear, the lad actually thought we were just having him on until I drew back the curtains so he could see all the smoke.”

[cardwellsestateagents]

Harrowby Street, Farnworth

Harrowby Street, Farnworth Offered to the market with no upward chain and early vacant possession if required, Cardwells Estate Agents Bolton offer to the market this very well presented mid terrace property on Harrowby Street in Farnworth, in close proximity to excellent amenities, the local hospital, nurseries and schools, with excellent transport links via the A666 motorway network. Warmed via a Worcester Bosch gas combination boiler and uPVC double glazed the property briefly comprises: Entrance vestibule, lounge with feature fireplace and surround with inset living flame gas fire, dining kitchen, landing, two bedrooms , the master being fitted and a three piece shower room on the first floor and there is a useful loft room with built in eaves storage. To the outside is a dropped kerb providing off road parking to the front and there is a large enclosed rear garden with a rolling shutter door providing additional off road parking if required. Viewings can easily arranged by ringing Cardwell estate agents Bolton on 01204 381281 or via email at bolton@cardwells.co.uk. Please watch the online walk through video prior to booking your personal inspection

[imaginehowcharming]

Sadler biscuit barrel, Wrythen shape, pink decorated with pink rosebuds. Large biscuit barrel paired with tea trios by Harrowby

available from

ImagineHowCharming

visit the shop on Etsy.com

[outoftowninac]

SEE SAW

1919 - 1920

See-Saw is a musical in two acts by Louis A. Hirsch (music), book and lyrics by Earl Derr Biggers. It was originally produced by Henry W. Savage, directed by John McKee with musical staging by Julian Alfred. 

The musical is based on the novel and un-produced non-musical play Love Insurance by Earl Derr Biggers. 

Cynthia Meyrick, daughter of Spencer Meyrick. a wealthy Detroit auto manufacturer, has promised to marry Lord Harrowby, a rattle-brain spendthrift. Although he owns a yacht, Harrow has debts and his creditors show no mercy. Harrowby induces Lloyds to insure him against the loss of Cynthia. Lloyds American agent, Richard Minot,  assures the home office that be will never leave Lord Harrowby until he is married to Cynthia. Minot has no idea that Cynthia is the girl he met and fell in love with in France without learning her name. The discovery comes when Harrowby's yacht, with wedding party and guests aboard, is setting sail. In Florida, there are more complications, including a demand by Cleo Ray, an actress with whom Lord Harrowby had an affair some years back.

See-Saw had its world premiere in Boston MA at the Tremont Theatre on August 2, 1919. An actors’ strike threatened to prematurely close the show. Savage filed injunctions and threatened legal action against anyone striking. 

See-Saw opened on Broadway on September 23, 1919 at the George M. Cohan Theatre (1482 Broadway at West 43rd Street). It was originally scheduled to open on the 22nd, but was delayed a day. 

About the Venue: It was built in 1911 by George M. Cohan and Sam Harris. It was sold in 1915, but it was lost to the bank in a mortgage settlement in 1938, and was torn down

In addition to introducing the word ‘squishy’, the production was also praised for innovating the ‘student chorus’, one which used singers as understudies for the leading role, training them for future stardom. 

Most critics praised Der Biggers book, but found the songs trite and familiar by comparison.  Some critics carped about the multiple encores of the song “When Two Hearts Discover.” One newspaper (the World) numbered the repetitions as a dozen!

See-Saw closed on December 1, 1919 with 89 performances.  

The musical opened in Atlantic City at Nixon’s Apollo Theatre on December 29, 1919. 

[thecreakingdoor]

Lots of fun at the Newark Antiques fair today. Not so much crate digging luck but I did find a few bits and pieces to use in my work. Here’s a sight that sent shivers down my spine. Ughhhhh. . . . #coulrophobia #clownheads #sendintheclowns #newarkantiquesfair #rowntrees #clownsofinstagram #clownsightings #runscreaming #neverfunny #facepainting (at Harrowby, Lincolnshire) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cocxfhvr_Hh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[wilwheaton]

Radio Free Burrito Presents: The Ghost of Harrowby Hall

While I listen to medical professionals and practice self-quarantine at home, I’m making an effort to create and release free audio book shorts every few days. It’s a good way for me to stay connected to my creative self, when my everything else self is so anxious and scared, all it wants to do is hide under the blankets and play video games.

I’m doing what I can, to do use the skills I have…

[livingadreamylife]

(via An elegant Georgian house in Ludlow designed by Caroline Harrowby | House & Garden)

[graveyarddirt]

Vincent Price: A Hornbook For Witches

A1 How To See Ghosts Or Surely Bring Them To You A2 A Hornbook For Witches A3 Witches On The Heath A4 The Ballad Of The Jabberwock A5 All-Saints' Eve A6 Dreamland A7 The Sands Of Dee A8 Thus I Refute Beelzy B1 Don't B2 The Water Ghost Of Harrowby Hall B3 Scary Sound Effects: The Creeping Horror B4 Scary Sound Effects: Storm, Wind, Creaking Door, Ghost Moaning, Dog Howling B5 Scary Sound Effects: Witch B6 Scary Sound Effects: Monsters Eating

See: #halloween music, #music, #vincent price

[word-ghost]

an unfavorable attachment // 1

Bright, lively, and exquisitely decorated, the ballroom at Willowbrook house was scarcely large enough to hold its guests. None of them seemed to notice. The party, by the hosts’ design, spilled out of three sets of open doors onto the lamplit terrace. The weather—for which the Millworths could not take credit—was perfect. 

Mild, late summer breezes swept through the hall, coaxing nearly every guest through those doors to find themselves dazzled by the view of Willowbrook’s grandest feature: its gardens. Not a single guest of Harvey Parrish’s acquaintance (few though they were in attendance) didn’t have something to say about them. He might as well have had a look before he climbed into a cab. 

No sooner had Harvey moved to set down his empty glass than a burst of laughter, sweet and clear, cut through the music and buzzing conversation. For an instant, for him alone, it was the only sound in the room. 

He knew it was her before his head—against his will—turned to look over his shoulder.

He had not been looking for Miss Millworth. Or, more truthfully, he hadn’t expected to find her. But there she was, in a corner seating area half hidden behind a massive arrangement of fresh flowers. 

She and her companion let out another trill of giggles, shoulders bowed together on their shared settee. 

Harvey edged closer, winding a slow path through the other guests, until he could hear them clearly.

“I noticed Mr. Errington is absent,” Miss Fuller said.

“Is he?” Miss Millworth flashed her friend a quick little grin that scrunched her lightly freckled nose. 

“I was sure your mother invited him. I don’t think he’s ever rejected an invitation.” 

“Perhaps he never received it,” Miss Milworth posited, all innocence, touching one finger to her chin. “Might it have been lost on its way?”

“And where do you suppose it ended up?”

“Certainly not the kitchen fire.”

The pair stifled a fresh bout of giggles. Harvey couldn’t keep the corner of his mouth from curling—until a sudden appearance at his side nearly stopped his heart.

“Dr. Parrish.” The ladies’ laughter silenced.

“Lady Harrowby.” He bowed his head, forcing a deep, slow breath into his lungs. “Lovely evening.” 

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