A Less Agreeable Man by Maria Grace - Guest Post and Giveaway

Today I am joined by Maria Grace, who has bought out the third book in the Queen of Rosings Park series. The first book, Mistaking Her Character, took us to a Rosings Park that had a resident doctor, Dr Bennet, and told the story of his daughter Elizabeth. The second took Miss Lydia Bennet off to boarding school, in The Trouble to Check Her, and this third book, A Less Agreeable Man, we are back in Rosings in the company of Mary Bennet. I'll share the blurb with you and then hand over to Maria Grace for a guest post and giveaway:


A Less Agreeable Man - Blurb

Dull, plain and practical, Mary Bennet was the girl men always overlooked. Nobody thought she’d garner a second glance, much less a husband. But she did, and now she’s grateful to be engaged to Mr. Michaels, the steady, even tempered steward of Rosings Park. By all appearances, they are made for each other, serious, hard-working, and boring.

Michaels finds managing Rosings Park relatively straight forward, but he desperately needs a helpmeet like Mary, able to manage his employers: the once proud Lady Catherine de Bourgh who is descending into madness and her currently proud nephew and heir, Colonel Fitzwilliam, whose extravagant lifestyle has left him ill-equipped for economy and privation.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had faced cannon fire and sabers, taken a musket ball to the shoulder and another to the thigh, stood against Napoleon and lived to tell of it, but barking out orders and the point of his sword aren’t helping him save Rosings Park from financial ruin. Something must change quickly if he wants to salvage any of his inheritance. He needs help, but Michaels is tedious and Michaels’ fiancée, the opinionated Mary Bennet, is stubborn and not to be borne.

Apparently, quiet was not the same thing as meek, and reserved did not mean mild. The audacity of the woman, lecturing him on how he should manage his barmy aunt. The fact that she is usually right doesn’t help. Miss Bennet gets under his skin, growing worse by the day until he finds it very difficult to remember that she's engaged to another man.  

Can order be restored to Rosings Park or will Lady Catherine’s madness ruin them all?  

Buy links: 
Amazon US / Amazon UK / Kobo / Barnes and Noble

Now I'll hand over to Maria Grace for a guest post about home medicine and a very exciting scene cut from the book.

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Home Medicine in Jane Austen’s Day

During Jane Austen’s day, the practice of medicine as we know it today was still in its infancy. Formally trained doctors were unavailable to many either because of cost or distance. Consequently any of the curative arts were practiced at home. William Buchan’s book Domestic medicine or the family physician.

Early Life
William Buchan was born in Scotland in 1729.  Even before his formal training he served as an amateur doctor to his village. In 1758 he qualified in medicine. The following year he served as the first surgeon and apothecary to a Yorkshire branch of the Foundling Hospital.  Experience gained in this post influenced his MD dissertation for Edinburgh University On the preservation of infant life (1761).

Domestic Medicine
In 1769 Buchan published his seminal work, Domestic medicine or the family physician.  It was the first text of its kind. Previous medical texts were theoretical and written for well-educated readers or were brief manuals not descriptive enough to be helpful. Buchan wrote Domestic Medicine in lay terms. It described both the diseases and treatments clearly enough that untrained people could fabricate the necessary remedies.

Priced at just 6 shillings, it was an immediate success. 80 000 copies from the 19 (English) editions of the book sold during his lifetime. Beyond Buchan’s native English, Domestic Medicine was translated into all the major European languages, even Russian.  The text remained in print until 1846 in Britain, and 1913 in the Americas.

Unfortunately, many of his remedies were no better than was currently in use at the time. Many of the cures were grounded in the theories of bodily humors, making him a proponent of bloodletting and purging as cures. Moreover, he proposed that too much of any one ‘non-natural’: air, meat and drink, sleeping and watching, exercise and quiet, evacuations and obstructions, and passions could result in an illness inducing imbalance. Thus, he advocated letting nature take its course by helping a patient reset to a natural ‘set point’.

Still, though, he was ahead of his time. More than a third of his book related to the prevention of disease by such (in today’s eyes) common sense measures as fresh air, exercise, hygiene, cleanliness and inoculations.  He also encouraged breast feeding as a means of reducing infant mortality and opposed the use of stupefactives on children.

On 25 February 1805 Buchan died at 76. He was buried in Westminster Abbey, leaving a legacy on medicine that we still feel today.

In case you want to take a look as his book, you can find it on line here: https://archive.org/details/domesticmedicin00buchgoog

In A Less Agreeable Man, Mary Bennet looks for a copy of Buchan’s text during a disastrous fire at Rosings Park. The scene did not make it into the final version of the book, but I thought you might enjoy a peek at it here.

Reference
Buchan W.  (1784) Domestic medicine or a treatise on the prevention and cure of diseases by regimen and simple medicines. (H Chamberlain and others, Dublin), 9th ed..

Dunn PM. Dr William Buchan (1729–1805) and his Domestic medicine 
Archives of Disease in Childhood - Fetal and Neonatal Edition 2000;83:F71-F73.

Cut Scene In the Still Room

“The barn fire will be contained very soon. You must send for the surgeon and the apothecary.” Mary braced both hands hard on the ground as hot winds abraded her burns. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut until the wave of agony passed. “Call for Mrs. Anderson, the vicar’s wife from the next parish, Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Leighton, their housekeepers as well. See that the injured are taken to the manor—set up the servants’ hall for them. Check the stores. We will need lime-water and oils—linseed and sweet—yellow basilicum ointment and—”

“I am not sure what we have in the stores.” Parkes crouched beside her and steadied her. “I am certain we have no yellow basilicum.”

“Set one of the girls to make some. We will need it in great amounts.”

“I am not even sure how to make it.”

Mary slapped her forehead and sat back hard. She clenched her first and sucked in several deep breaths, counting until the harsh words on her tongue subsided.

Not everyone had lived with a physician who pontificated loud and long on preferred remedies and formulas. And the need to be prepared for the vicissitudes of life.

Apparently, those of high enough rank did not need to anticipate vicissitudes. She clutched her temples. Impatience with Parkes would serve no one well right now.

“Have you a copy of Buchan’s Domestic Medicine in the house?” Pray let at least that much be available.

“I am not sure. Lady Catherine has had a physician in attendance for so long that –”

“I see. Now is not the time to go digging about the library for one. I know there is one in the mistress’ parlor of the parsonage. Send someone to fetch the Collins’ housekeeper and have her bring it to me. After this is finished, you will make certain that there is a copy kept in your office. I will return to the house now and check the stores and still room myself.”

“Yes, of course.” Parkes waved down a young groom who looked anxious to be away from the dead and injured. Then she took a pile of wet sacks from a young maid and directed her run back to the manor with Mary.

“Start moving the casualties to the house immediately.” Mary called over her shoulder, forcing herself into a trot back to the house.

How was it possible that a place as large as Rosings could be so ill-prepared for such an event? Truly, it had nothing to do with adequacy of resources, and everything to do with the mentality of its mistress. It was one thing to rely upon the physician she patronized for major issues, but there was no reason the household should not be prepared to handle more mundane crises. No wonder Lizzy had always seen to the needs of the servants. How many of those needs could have been addressed by a simple copy of Buchan’s text? How much unnecessary expense at the apothecary’s could have been spared by preparing remedies at home?

The waste!

She would address that matter with Fitzwilliam if—no when—when he recovered from his injuries. And with Michaels, too. Any new place to economize would be most welcome news to him.
She entered through the kitchen and lit a candle from the fireplace. Half eaten platters and dishes from dinner were scattered along the work tables, left where they landed when the kitchen staff answered the call of “Fire!” Empty halls echoing with unnatural stillness provided an eerie foil from the bedlam outside.

The still room—even more still than usual—invited her in with dusty herbal scents that hung upon the quiet, stuffy air. It should have been full, shelves brimming with baskets and jars, bundles of drying stuffs hanging from the rafters. The floor should have been a jumble of boxes, large earthenware crocks and more baskets. How long had it been since someone had actually seen to its stocks? One more thing to deal with later.

She picked along the walls, candle held close to the shelves, squinting in the flickering light. Pray let there be something useful here!

Yes! A half-full basket of dried poppies! Those would provide sufficient poppy tea to relieve the injured for at least a week, perhaps more. Several bottles of prepared calamine forgotten on a shelf!

Dusty, but still useful.

On another wall, a high shelf offered a box of yellow wax, one of white resin and a jar with frankincense. Those would make sufficient yellow basilicum for the time being.

Excellent. It would not take too much time to prepare. If only—yes!—there it was! A box of quick lime on the floor, enough for gallons of lime-water.

Providence had granted enough to meet their immediate needs. Trials and hardships would always be there, but thankfulness was still a virtue she could hardly afford to do without.

A scullery maid, scent by Parkes, scurried in. They carried the supplies to the disordered kitchen where the maid quickly cleared a work table to receive them.

Proportions, what were the proportions? It had been a long time since she had helped Mama prepare the ointment. Mary paced in front of the low kitchen fire, pressing her temples and muttering to herself. Yes! One part yellow wax, one of frankincense and one of white resin to be melted together then added to four parts of melted lard.

She had not forgotten. She could do this.

The maid fed the fire, encouraging it to something more useful. A large melting pot went on the hob near several kettles of water. Those were for the poppy tea.

Now, lime water for washes. A pound, yes that was it, a pound of quick lime—that was close enough—and how much water? One gallon, no, that would not be enough. It must be two. She added the lime into a large basin and poured the water over, wincing at the violent reaction. Filter paper? Where would that be?

The maid ran for it and returned before Mary could even ask. She was a quick study. Perhaps it was time to move her into higher work, perhaps assign her to the still room.

“Bring me clean jugs and corks for the lime water while I finish the basilicum.” Mary added the lard to the melting pot and stirred until it was thoroughly incorporated. She removed the pot from the fire, covered it with a clean cloth and set it outside to cool.

The kettles were boiling. Where were the poppies? There. Why had they not been properly cleaned? Blast and botheration. She probably should be grateful that they were even available, but was it really too much to ask that they might have been properly prepared?

Had Parkes even noticed? Or was she kept too busy to properly manage the still room by Lady Catherine’s incessant demands?

Stop. That could be dealt with later. Focus on the immediate needs.

She plucked debris from the poppy heads and added them to the hot water. They would steep on their own on the hearth. Had it been long enough for the lime water to settle yet?

No, not yet.

She turned to the scullery maid. “I will return for the poppy tea shortly. Watch the lime-water and find me when all the lime has settled. See that no one touches any of this before I return.”

The girl nodded, a slight look of terror in her eyes.

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About the Author

Though Maria Grace has been writing fiction since she was ten years old, those early efforts happily reside in a file drawer and are unlikely to see the light of day again, for which many are grateful. After penning five file-drawer novels in high school, she took a break from writing to pursue college and earn her doctorate in Educational Psychology. After 16 years of university teaching, she returned to her first love, fiction writing.

She has one husband and one grandson, two graduate degrees and two black belts, three sons, four undergraduate majors, five nieces, is starting her sixth year blogging on Random Bits of Fascination, has built seven websites, attended eight English country dance balls, sewn nine Regency era costumes, and shared her life with ten cats.

Connect with Maria Grace:

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Giveaway Time!

Maria Grace is kindly offering an ebook of A Less Agreeable Man to a commenter on this post. You could let us know what you thought of the cut scene, medical knowledge at the time, the idea of the book or anything else you'd like. This is open to international entrants, who comment by the end of the day on Sunday 10 September. Please ensure you leave a way for me to contact you in case you are the lucky winner.

Many thanks to Maria Grace for the guest post, which contained information I'd never heard before, and the scene, which tied in so wonderfully with it!