JAFF Anonymous

Jane Austen Fan Fiction Anonymous Meetings Here! 24 hours a Day; 7 Days a Week! We Don't Suffer, We Celebrate!

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Marvelous Merry Christmas With Maria Grace

Marvelous Merry Christmas With Maria Grace

Thanks so much for having me Barbara! I’m so excited about this Christmas season! It’s been a doozy of a year in these parts, so much that it calls for not one, but two Christmas books.  They were released on December 1. The two books go along with The Darcys’ First Christmas, kind of forming bookends to the story. Darcy and Elizabeth: Christmas 1811 tells the behind the scenes story of what might have happened during the Christmastide Darcy spent in London, while the militia (and Wickham!) wintered in Meryton. From Admiration to Love tells the story of the Darcys’ second Christmas as they try to hold Georgiana’s coming out at the Twelfth Night ball as Lady Catherine and Anne de Bourgh descend as very unwelcome guests. (The story was such fun to write, I hope you love it as much as I do!)
One of my favorite parts of writing is getting to ‘dress the set’ as it were with bits and bobs from the era. Food is often one of those bits; the sights and smells and tastes of a place are so evocative, aren’t they? So I often find myself in a deep dive looking for what my characters would have been eating and what it would smell and taste like.
From Admiration to Love  has a scene that includes sitting down to breakfast that just screamed for a cinnamon roll—it was exactly what needed to be on the table. BUT, the big questions was whether or not such things actually existed in the day.
Naturally, the answer was ‘sort of’. Obviously, Cinnabon wasn’t around then, but apparently, there was a Georgian era doppelganger lurking about, ready to supply a cinnamon roll fix.  Seriously, the more things change, the more they stay the same.
In the Chelsea area of London, there was the Chelsea Bun house, famous for its namesake, the Chelsea bun (as well as hot cross buns.) The place was so famous, it was patronized by Kings George II and George III.
The Chelsea Bun House appears to have started business early in the 1700’s, appearing  in a journal entry by Jonathan Swift in 1711.  Over a hundred years later Sir Richard Phillips wrote in A Morning's Walk from London to Kew that the shop had been operated by the same Hand family for four generations. Unfortunately, the last of the family died in 1839, and with him, the Chelsea Bun House came to an end.
The buns continue to be made though. They start with a rich yeast dough that may be flavored with lemon peel, cinnamon or other mixed spices. Currants, brown sugar and butter are spread over the dough before it is rolled and cut into individual buns. After baking it is covered with a sticky sugar glaze. Sounds nothing like a cinnamon roll at all, huh?
Here’s a modern version of the traditional Chelsea Bun. I may just be making these for New Year’s. I’ll share pictures if I do—and you must do the same if you try them!
·         2 cups all-purpose flour
·         pinch of salt
·         2 1/4 teaspoons (1 envelope) yeast
·         1/4 teaspoon sugar
·         5 tablespoons butter, divided
·         1 3/4 cups milk, divided
·         1 egg, beaten
·         Vegetable oil
For the Filling:
·         1 cup raisins or currants
·         1/2 cup brown sugar
·         1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
For the Icing:
·         4 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar
Combine the flour and salt in a large bowl; make a well in the center.
Sprinkle yeast and sugar into the well. Heat 2 tablespoons butter and 1 1/2 cups milk over medium heat until the butter has melted and the milk is just warm. Cool for 2 minutes. Pour the milk into the flour well.
Mix and add beaten egg. Mix until a dough forms.
Knead by hand for 5 minutes. Coat with thin layer of vegetable oil and place in a bowl covered with a towel.  Leave to rise in a warm place, until roughly doubled in size, about 1 hour.
Press down dough, and turn out onto a floured work surface. Roll dough with a rolling pin into a rough 8- by 13-inch rectangle. Melt 2 more tablespoons butter. Brush dough with butter, leaving a 1-inch border along the top (long) edge. Add raisins and brown sugar on top of butter. Sprinkle with cinnamon. Gently roll along to long side to form a 13 inch-wide roll. Cut the tube into 8 equal pieces.
Butter an 8- by 11-inch baking dish and place rolls in dish. Let the buns rise in a warm place until doubled again, about 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 375°F. Bake in center of the oven until golden brown, about 20 minutes.  
Combine the remaining 1/4 cup milk and the confectioner's sugar in a saucepan and whisk until smooth. Simmer and cook for 2 minutes. Pour over buns while still warm. Serve warm.

Here’s a sneak peek into From Admiration to Love.

Sunday, November 21, 1813

After a light nuncheon, Elizabeth invited Darcy, Georgiana, and Fitzwilliam to the kitchen, just as her mother had done every Stir it Up Sunday since Elizabeth could remember. Pemberley’s kitchen was huge compared to Longbourn’s, filled with servants baking, making plum puddings, and working on dinner preparations. The air was thick with the fragrances of brandy and spices hanging in the humid heat of the great boiling cauldrons that already contained prepared puddings. How many were needed to distribute on the estate and in the parish? Elizabeth had lost count. Thankfully Cook had not.
A worktable had been set up in a more-or-less out of the way corner of the kitchen, with all the sweet-smelling makings for plum pudding ready and waiting in small bowls. The menfolk would have no patience for chopping and measuring, so it was best done for them. Even this was a little too much like cooking to be for their comfort. She gestured for them to stand around the table.
“I do hope you are going to tell us what to do.” Fitzwilliam laughed and elbowed Darcy.
“What, you do not know how to cook, too?” Elizabeth reached for the large earthenware bowl in the middle of the table. “You would have me believe an officer of His Majesty—albeit former officer—capable of anything.”
“I can roast a haunch of meat over a campfire, if that is what you are asking. But more than that I am told is not the province of men.”
“But are not French man-cooks considered the height of culinary expression?” Georgiana stared at the table. She had grown far more bold and able to tease—and be teased—good-naturedly, but still was not fully sure of herself in doing it.
“I stand corrected.” Fitzwilliam bowed at Georgiana. “I shall immediately find myself an apprenticeship with one of them and shower you with fine offerings from the kitchen.”
Georgiana giggled.
“I would be pleased if you would simply bring back some venison when you go hunting.” Elizabeth lifted her brows and stared at him.
Fitzwilliam laughed heartily.
“Perhaps we ought to attend to the pudding?” Darcy struggled not to smile.
“A very good suggestion indeed. Now, we have thirteen ingredients to add—”
“A most auspicious number, thirteen. I am told it is unlucky.” Fitzwilliam peered at the small bowls on the table and counted under his breath.
“Thirteen for Christ and the apostles.” Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the table. “Has your mother not taught you—”
“My mother had nothing to do with the kitchen, even for the sake of a Christmas pudding, unlike Aunt Darcy who was quite as fond as stirring them up as you. You, my dear cousin, must make up for my mother’s lack.” 
“Then pay attention, or I shall have to send you out like a recalcitrant school boy, and have our master deal with you.” Elizabeth gestured toward Darcy.
Darcy snorted. Poor man might hurt himself trying to keep a straight face.
“A dire threat indeed. I shall behave myself with all decorum now.” Fitzwilliam raised open hands in surrender.
“See that you do. Now, I shall add the flour and suet and pass it to the east.” She pushed the bowl toward Fitzwilliam. “You have the dried fruits and nuts—just pour them in on top, like that. You might make a man-cook yet.”
Fitzwilliam lifted his hand high and sprinkled in the chopped nuts with a flourish, then passed the bowl to Georgiana.
“Add in the bread crumbs and milk. Here is the citron already soaked in brandy. Pour that in, too.”
“You have kept the brandy from me?” Fitzwilliam wrinkled his face into a pout.
“My wife is very wise in all things.” Darcy took the bowl from Georgiana. He poured in the spices, eggs and sugar from the small bowls near him.
“And you my dear are the most sensible of men.” Elizabeth took the bowl again and reached for a wooden spoon. “This spoon is to remind us of the wood of the Christ child’s crib. Now stir it clockwise with your eyes closed and make a wish.”
“That is a relief, I thought you might hit me with that.” Fitzwilliam took the spoon.
“I will have to keep that possibility in mind. Now, stir the pudding.”
“By Jove, this is heavy! I had no idea!” He struggled to pull the spoon through the pudding.
Georgiana crowded him away from the bowl. “Here, here, stop complaining and let me.” She struggled against the heavy batter.
“Stir up, we beseech thee, the pudding in the pot. And when we do get home tonight, we'll eat it up hot.” Fitzwilliam crossed his arms and pressed his tongue into his cheek. “Or not, at the rate you are going.”
“Help me, brother.” Georgiana handed Darcy the spoon.
Cradling the bowl with one arm, he dragged the spoon through the thick slurry. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. “I think I do not pay our cook enough.”
Fitzwilliam slapped his thighs and chortled.
“Is it done now, Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked.
“Only one more thing to add.” She took the bowl from Darcy. “We cannot forget the charms! They are very dear to my family. You see, each year when someone has found the silver ring, they have indeed become betrothed. It began with my mother and father.”
“Did you find the ring the year my brother offered you marriage?”
“No, but the husband of one of my sisters did, so the tradition continued.” No need to mention it was Wickham who found the ring that year. She dropped the silver charms into the pudding and stirred until they disappeared amidst the dried fruits and nuts and she was quite short of breath. “Georgiana, hand me that buttered cloth, and you two strong gentlemen—who do not pay the cook enough for this chore—dump out the pudding and tie it up to boil.”
Darcy and Fitzwilliam struggled with the pudding, finally calling in Cook’s assistance to tie it up and haul it away to a large boiling cauldron.
“With that, I think I shall seek out some far easier recreation. What say you Georgiana, would archery suit you?”
“You consider that easier than making a pudding?”
“Far easier and cleaner.” He dusted flour off his jacket. “Shall we have a quarter of an hour to clean the flour from our hands and don our shooting dress? I will see you on the back lawn then?”
“I am a frightful bad shot you know.” Georgiana followed him out.
“Not an incurable malady I assure you.”
Darcy shook his head as he watched them leave, then turned his gaze on Elizabeth. “You have flour on your cheek.”
“Do I?”
He pulled out his handkerchief and dusted her cheek, gently, tenderly, almost like a kiss. “There, much better.”
“I am certain this is not the way your mother must have stirred up puddings.” She bit her lower lip.
“What matter is that? Pemberley needs laughter, and I am thankful to hear it. I look forward to many more Christmas puddings stirred up just this way.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I am glad to hear that.”
“There is one favor I might ask, though. Is there any way to prevent that ring from finding its way into either Fitzwilliam’s or Georgiana’s pudding? I can see no good coming of it, especially in the presence of a large party.”
“You mean this one?” She opened her hand. A tiny silver ring twinkled in the sunlight.
“My wife is indeed the wisest woman in Derbyshire!”
“Not in all of England?”
“I am not far from being convinced of that as well.”



Thanks so much for letting me come by and visit Barbara!

Darcy and Elizabeth: Christmas 1811


Sweet, Austen-inspired treats, perfect with a cup of tea.

Full of hope and ripe with possibility, Christmastide tales refresh the heart with optimism and anticipation.

Darcy and Elizabeth: Christmas 1811

Jane Austen never wrote the details of Christmastide 1811. What might have happened during those intriguing months?

Following the Netherfield ball, Darcy persuades Bingley to leave Netherfield Park in favor of London to avoid the match-making machinations of Mrs. Bennet. Surely, the distractions of town will help Bingley forget the attractions of Miss Jane Bennet. But Bingley is not the only one who needs to forget. All Darcy wants this Christmastide is to forget another Miss Bennet.

Can the diversions of London help Darcy overcome memories of the fine eyes and pert opinions of a certain Hertfordshire miss?  

Without the Bingleys, the Bennets are left to the company of Mr. Collins and the militia officers—entirely suitable company, according Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth disagrees, refusing an offer of marriage from the very eligible Mr. Collins. Mama’s nerves suffer horridly until Elizabeth follows her advice to make the most of the officers’ company.

Even Mr. Bennet seems to agree. So, whilst Jane pines for Bingley, Elizabeth admits the attentions of one agreeable Lt. Wickham. What possible harm can it cause, especially when her parents are so pleased?

The Darcys' First Christmas


Sweet, Austen-inspired treats, perfect with a cup of tea.

Full of hope and ripe with possibility, Christmastide tales refresh the heart with optimism and anticipation.

The Darcys' First Christmas

Elizabeth anxiously anticipates her new duties as mistress of Pemberley. Darcy is confident of her success, but she cannot bring herself to share his optimism.

Unexpected guests unsettle all her plans and offer her the perfect Christmastide gift, shattered confidence.

Can she and Darcy overcome their misunderstandings and salvage their first Christmastide together?  

From the award winning author of Given Good Principles, Remember the Past and Mistaking Her Character, Sweet Tea short stories offer the perfect bite to transport readers back to the Regency era for the first days of new love.

From Admiration to Love


Sweet, Austen-inspired treats, perfect with a cup of tea.

Full of hope and ripe with possibility, Christmastide tales refresh the heart with optimism and anticipation.

From Admiration to Love

After the debacle of the previous holiday season, Darcy and Elizabeth joyfully anticipate Christmastide 1813, Georgiana’s come out at Pemberley’s Twelfth Night Ball culminating the season. With months of planning behind the event, even Lady Matlock is satisfied and sends Colonel Fitzwilliam to represent the family, assuring there will be no repeat of the previous Christmastide.

On St. Nicholas’, Anne de Bourgh and Lady Catherine arrive on Pemberley’s doorstep—never a good sign—demanding sanctuary against the de Bourghs who (according the Lady Catherine) are trying to retake Rosings Park for their family with plans to seduce and marry Anne. Needless to say, Darcy and Fitzwilliam are skeptical.

Not long afterwards, three gentlemen suitors appear at Pemberley, hoping to court Anne and obliging Darcy to offer holiday hospitality. Anne adores the attention whilst Lady Catherine makes her displeasure know, throwing Pemberley into turmoil that threatens the Twelfth Night Ball. Can Darcy and Elizabeth, with a little help from Fitzwilliam, soothe Lady Catherine’s nerves, see Anne to a respectable match, and still salvage Georgiana’s come out?   

From the award winning author of Given Good Principles, Remember the Past and Mistaking Her Character, Sweet Tea short stories offer the perfect bite to transport readers back to the Regency era for the first days of new love.

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.

She can be contacted at:

No comments:

Post a Comment