Summary:
Reminiscent of Downton Abbey, this first novel in a new series follows
two sisters and their maid as they are suddenly separated by the rigid class
divisions within a sprawling aristocratic estate and thrust into an uncertain
world on the brink of WWI…
Rowena and Victoria, daughters to the second son of the Earl of Summerset,
have always treated their governess’s daughter, Prudence, like a sister. But
when their father dies and they move in with their uncle’s family in a much more
traditional household, Prudence is relegated to the maids’ quarters, much to the
girls’ shock and dismay. The impending war offers each girl hope for a more
modern future, but the ever-present specter of class expectations makes it
difficult for Prudence to maintain a foot in both worlds.
Vividly evoking both time and place and filled with authentic dialogue and
richly detailed atmosphere, Summerset Abbey is a charming and timeless
historical debut.
Excerpt:
A lump rose in her throat as she caught sight of the ornate casket, draped
with a full spray of lilies, carnations, and palm fronds. The only reason she
was here, clutching Rowena’s and Victoria’s hands in hers instead of shrinking
into the background with the other servants, was the kindness of the man who lay
inside. After Prudence’s father had died, her mother, who had worked at Sir
Philip’s estate as a girl, had been sent to attend to Rowena and Victoria’s
ailing mother. When his wife died, Sir Philip asked her to stay on to help raise
the girls, and Prudence, exactly between his daughters in age, became part of
the family. Prudence, who volunteered her time at several different poorhouses
in the city, knew exactly what happened to young girls left alone in the world.
She would forever be grateful to Sir Philip for not allowing that to happen to
her.
She blinked away her tears and occupied herself by looking at the rest of the
congregation. Only a few looked familiar. Among them were Rupert Brooke, the
high-strung and handsome young poet; Ben Tillett, the iron-jawed union leader;
and Roger Fry, the controversial artist responsible for bringing London’s
shocked attention to postimpressionism some years prior. These were some of Sir
Philip’s friends, a motley collection of artists, intellectuals, and
misfits.
Because the Earl had arranged the funeral, most of the people in attendance
were his peers, men from the House of Lords and others from the cream of London
society.
Sir Philip would have hated it.
The beautiful gold arches and polished marble of St. Bride’s Church gleamed,
just as they had the few times the family had attended church. Sir Philip had
chosen St. Bride’s because, as he used to say, “Sir Christopher Wren built the
kind of church that God might actually enjoy.”
Gradually, Prudence became aware of a young man staring at her from across
the aisle. Her eyes darted in his direction, then away. Moments later, unable to
help herself, she glanced back to see whether he was still looking at her. He
was. She turned slightly and stared fixedly at the bronze candelabra to the left
of him, her cheeks burning.
Victoria leaned around her to whisper to Rowena. “Look, Lord Billingsly has
noticed our Prudence.”
“I’m right here,” Prudence whispered, and gave both their hands a hard
squeeze for emphasis.
She didn’t look his way again.
Once the service started, Prudence sank into a well of grief that threatened
to drown her. The waves of it lapped at her from all sides, covered her head,
and made sight almost impossible. Inside, her heart broke and a waterfall of
sorrow poured from the cracks. On one side, Victoria sobbed quietly, while
Rowena’s stiff resolve buoyed her from the other. She clung to their hands as
the service passed in a blur of speeches.
They remained that way until it was time to get into the ornate black and
gold funeral carriages that would take them back to their home in Mayfair for
the reception. Behind the carriages stood a line of motorcars; most of the
wealthy guests had long given up their carriages for the convenience and speed
of automobiles. The Earl himself had several, and Sir Philip’s sleek Eton-blue
Belsize sat idle in the carriage house, but the Earl insisted on traditional
horse-drawn carriages.
“Miss Tate will ride in the staff carriage.” The Earl’s voice brooked no
opposition and his square jaw firmed. Prudence knew that look. Rowena’s pretty
face held the same expression when she got all stubborn about something.
Victoria’s eyes widened. “Prudence rides with us.”
“Nonsense. The Duke of Plymouth wishes to join us and there isn’t enough
room.”
Prudence placed her hands on Victoria’s shoulders. Tension vibrated through
the young girl’s slender body and Prudence’s stomach knotted, sure that Victoria
was going to throw a fit, the kind she used to throw when the family still
called her baby and she wanted the biggest sweet in the shop. Even at eighteen,
Victoria wasn’t above a tantrum or two if she thought the situation warranted
it. But her waiflike face suddenly fell and her lower lip trembled.
“It’ll be all right,” Prudence whispered. “I’ll go back with the staff and
meet you at home.”
Author Bio
TJ Brown is proud of her two children but coming in a close second is the fact
that she parachuted out of a plane and beat the original Legend of Zelda video
game. Her young adult historical about Harry Houdini’s illegitimate daughter
came out in June from Balzer+Bray. She also writes adult historicals under TJ
Brown. She resides with her husband and way too many pets in Portlandia
Author Links:
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