Regency Valentines

by Jo Beverley

  If of white linen, you will lose him by death.

  If of flowers, he will prove false.

  If you dream of his saluting you, he is at present false, means not what he says, and seeks only to draw you into a snare.

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  The Three Keys

  Purchase three small keys, each at a different place, and on going to bed tie them together with your garter, and place them in your left hand glove along with a small flat dough cake on which you have pricked the first letters of your sweetheart's name. Put them in your bosom when you retire to rest. If you are to have that young man you will dream of him, but not else.

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  When Sleeping in a Strange Bed

  Lay under your pillow a prayer book opened at the matrimonial service, bound around with the garters you wore that day and a sprig of myrtle on the page that says "with this ring I thee wed." Your dreams will be ominous and you will have your fortune as well told as if you had paid a crown to an astrologer.

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  To Know your Husband's Trade

  Exactly at twelve on Midsummer's Day place a bowl of water in the sun. As the clock is striking pour in some boiling pewter saying thus:

  Here I try a potent spell,

  Queen of love and Juno tell

  In kind union to me

  What my husband is to be.

  This the day and this the hour,

  When it seems you have the power

  For to me a maiden's friend,

  So, good ladies, condescend.

  The bowl of a tobacco pipe filled with pewter is quite enough.

  When the pewter is cold take it out of the water and drain it dry in a cloth and you will find the emblems of your future husband's trade quite plain. If more than one you will marry twice. If confused or not emblems you will never marry. A coach shows a gentleman for you.

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  To Know What Fortune Your Husband Will Have

  Take a walnut and hazelnut and grate them together. Add a little grated nutmeg and mix all up with butter and sugar. Make the paste up into little pills and on going to bed take exactly nine. According to your dreams, so will be the state of the person you will marry. If riches, you will marry a gentleman. If white linen, a clergyman. Of darkness, a lawyer. Of odd noises and tumults, a tradesman. Of thunder and lighting, a military man. Of rain, a servant.

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  To Know How Soon You Will be Married

  Get a green peapod in which are exactly nine peas. Hang it over the front door and then take note of the first person who comes through it who is not of the family. If it is a bachelor, you will be married within the year.

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  Herbs to Tell Your Marital Fate

  On any Friday throughout the year, take rosemary flowers, bay leaves, thyme, and sweet marjoram, of each a handful. Dry them and make into a fine powder. Take four teaspoonfuls of the powder and add twice the quantity of barley flour. Make into a cake with the milk of a red cow. This cake is not to be baked, but wrapped in clean writing paper and laid under your head any Friday night. If you dream of music you will wed the one you desire, and soon. If you dream of fire you will be crossed in love. If of a church, you will die single.

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  On the Eve of Saint Magdalen, 22nd of July

  Let three young women assemble in an upper apartment, where they are sure not to be disturbed, and let no one try whose age is more than 21 or it breaks the charm. Get rum, wine, gin, vinegar and water and let each have a hand in preparing the potion. Put it in a ground glass vessel, no other will do. Then let each young woman dip a sprig of rosemary in and fasten it in her bosom, and taking three sips of the potion, get into bed. The three must sleep together, but not a word must be spoken after the ceremony begins. You will have true dreams, and of such a nature that you cannot possibly mistake your future destiny. It is not particular as to the hour at which you retire to rest.

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  To Secure the Devotion of your Lover

  Take three hairs from your head, roll them up in a small, compact form, and anoint them with three drops of blood from your ring finger. Wear this in your bosom for nine days and nights, taking care that no one knows your secret, then enclose the hair in a secret cavity of a ring or brooch and present it to your lover. A chain or plait of your hair mixed with that of a goat and anointed with nine drops of the essence of ambergris will have a similar effect.

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  Card Games Related to Romance.

  Lovers' Hearts

  Four young persons, no more, may play at this game, or three by making a dumb hand, and it is played for tricks as in whist. Play this game exactly the same in every game, making the queen, whom you call Venus, above the ace, the aces in this game only standing for one. Hearts must be led off by the person next the dealer.

  He or she who gets the most trucks will have the most lovers, and the king and queen of hearts in one hand shows matrimony is close. But woe to the unlucky one who gets no tricks or does not hold a heart in his or her hand; they will be unfortunate in love and long tarry before they marry.

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  Cupid and Hymen

  Three are enough for this game. Deal the cards equally. Those who hold kings hold friends. Queens are rivals. Knaves are shame -- knave alone is a lover, three knaves means surprises. An ace is sorrow; two is a child before marriage. If the holder also has one king there is a chance the father will marry her. If a king and queen, she will never marry the father. The nine of hearts grants your dearest wish, the nine of diamonds means money, the nine of clubs a new gown, but the nine of spades brings sorrow. A queen and a knave together bids fair for a secret intrigue.

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  A Lenten game

  To be tried on any Friday in Lent, Good Friday excepted. Write twelve letters of the common alphabet on separate pieces of card, also twelve numbers, and the same number of blank cards, then put them in a bag and shake them well. Let each present draw one. Blank shows a single life. A number, intrigue or Crim. Con (adultery). A letter a happy marriage.

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  There is another game, which features in the next story, Saint Agnes and the Black Sheep.

  Saint Agnes And The Black Sheep

  (First published in the anthology A Cast of Characters, 2013)

  Prologue

  February 13th, 1814

  "It's Valentine's Day tomorrow. What traditions do we follow in Dux Cherrymead?"

  Agnes Abbott froze and waited for one of the other four ladies in her parlor to respond. The tea party was a weekly occasion for the younger ladies of the village as long as the weather was suitable for walking, and for a variety of reason it was held at the vicarage. Her father didn't mind and she enjoyed hosting it, but the arrival of Marietta South amongst them had created a discordant note.

  Dark-haired Marietta was the eighteen-year-old daughter of Sir Graham and Lady South, who had leased Cherrymead Hall, which sat at the edge of the village. Of course she had been invited to the teas out of kindness, but also in expectation of novelty. She'd certainly brought that!

  Sir Graham had held some important diplomatic posts and taken his wife and daughter with him. He also had two sons, but they were older than Marietta and already married. If not, the prospect of their arrival in the village would have caused a flurry.

  Marietta had lived in a number of countries, which could have made her interesting, but she seemed to have observed nothing but fashion and dashing gentlemen. She dressed far too finely for the countryside and considered the cut of a sleeve and the latest design of cap fascinating topics. On consideration, chatter about Valentine's Day superstitions was perhaps to be preferred.

  "Admirers leave posies on the doorstep of any unmarried lady they admire," Agnes said. "Sometimes they
also pen verses. It's amusing to try to guess who may have sent them. Though some, of course, are no mystery."

  She smiled at her friend Lucy Fry, who was being happily wooed by the oldest son of one of the most prosperous local farmers.

  Marietta settled on a chair in a flourish of yellow-striped skirts. "Oh, pooh! That's dull stuff."

  Agnes poured her tea and Lucy politely asked the unavoidable question. "What customs have you practiced, Marietta?"

  Marietta leaned forward a little. "Predictive ones. Does no one else wish to know the name and station of their future husband?"

  "Some of us are married," Beth Endersley pointed out, for she and Christina Armitage were wives. Beth had lived here all her life and married a local gentleman. Christina had come here four years ago when she'd married.

  "But four here are unwed," Marietta said. "Myself, Lucy, Jane and Agnes."

  Jane Harkness colored, for at twenty-eight and lacking looks or fortune she had long resigned herself. Agnes wished there was a silencing potion she could add to the chit's tea, but had to pass it over undoctored. "Some of us don't wish to marry," she said.

  Marietta took her cup and saucer. "Every woman wishes to marry. But if it's not to be, the spell will make that clear."

  "Spell!" Lucy exclaimed. "You can't be serious."

  "Oh, not real ones."

  "There's no such thing as a real spell," Agnes said.

  Marietta blinked long lashes at her. "Isn't that what I said? But pretend ones are amusing and Valentine's Eve is an excellent time for them."

  Agnes was prepared to squash the whole idea when Christina Armitage said, "They can be fun." Agnes would have thought her more sensible. "I remember attempting some when young. Writing initials in blood. And sleeping with a cake beneath my pillow."

  "Did they predict Richard?" Agnes asked.

  Christina chuckled. "No. One said I would marry a sailor called Henry, and another that I'd be betrayed by a tinker!"

  "I thought the cake one was for wedding cake," Lucy said. "I tried that after your wedding, Beth, but no gentleman appeared at my bedside in the night."

  "A very good thing, too!" Beth said, making them all laugh.

  Agnes was bemused to find her friends sharing stories of strange practices they'd attempted in their youth, for as the vicar's daughter she'd never done so, but the chatter was amusing and clearly harmless.

  Until Marietta declared, "We should attempt at least one."

  "They're done at night," Jane pointed out, "and it's presently afternoon."

  "That doesn't matter with predictive card games."

  Agnes said, "If you've done such things before, Marietta, aren't your questions already answered?"

  "You're so practical, Agnes. Perhaps this year's answers will be preferable to last's! In any case, none yet has said I'll marry within the year, and here I am, fading on the bough."

  Anyone less faded was hard to imagine.

  Agnes wished to squelch the silliness, but Jane said, "It would be diverting."

  Perhaps she hadn't given up hope after all, but Agnes feared the game would predict her life-long single state. Of course it would be nonsense, but it might hurt. Everyone seemed to be in agreement, however, so she found a pack of cards. "How do we play this game? Do we need to sit at the dining table?"

  "That would be best," Marietta said, and soon they were settled around the table.

  "Cupid's Choice is very simple," Marietta said. "The cards are shuffled and then blessed by a wedding ring." She shuffled them and put them down. Christina and Beth both put their wedding rings on top.

  "Is that it?" Beth asked.

  "There's a verse. Let's see if I can remember it.

  Cupid, Cupid, if you please

  Come to give a maiden ease.

  Let the cards my bliss foretell.

  Pray predict my wedding bell.

  There, all done."

  The two ladies took back their rings.

  "As you two wives can't play," Marietta said, "one of you should deal out the cards." Christina took them up. "Deal one card to each lady in turn, and one to the middle in each round. That's called Lost Hopes, for sometimes promising cards end up there. Getting a king means marriage, you see, but I've known occasions when all four kings fell into Lost Hope."

  "Did any of those ladies subsequently marry?" Agnes asked.

  "Very likely. It's a game, Agnes! The first person to be dealt a king will be the first one to marry, and then subsequent ones predict the order in which we will marry. Or not."

  "What if one of us gets two kings?" Lucy asked.

  "Then you'll marry twice, of course."

  "That's horrid!" Lucy exclaimed, clearly thinking of her beloved Michael.

  "It's only a game, Lucy," Agnes reminded her. "What else, Marietta?"

  "A knave means an admirer, but he may not be true. Oh, and the king of hearts is the best card, no matter in what order. Any heart gives hope. If a lady ends up with no hearts at all, it's a sorry prediction."

  "Unless she doesn't wish to wed," Agnes pointed out again.

  It seemed to sink in. Marietta stared at her. "You truly don't wish to? Why not?"

  "Because I'm completely happy as I am, and marriage would change things. It could even cause me to leave here, which I wouldn't like at all."

  Marietta looked as if she wished to argue the point, but she shrugged. "If that's your wish, I hope you receive all black."

  Christina began to deal the cards, face up.

  It was all nonsense, but Agnes found herself irrationally tense on her friends' behalf. When Lucy and Jane both received hearts in the first round she relaxed a little and then smiled when she got a club. Marietta had to wait to the third round for a heart -- the six. No one as yet had received a knave or king.

  Then Lucy got the king of hearts.

  "See!" Marietta exclaimed. "It's working, for Lucy is sure to be married soon, and in truth I only hope for a knave, for I'm in no hurry to wed."

  As if summoned she got the knave of hearts and laughed in delight.

  Agnes as yet had received no hearts at all, but then the ten turned up in front of her. No great matter. Though she was plump and plain she had received interesting attentions in her twenty-three years. None had threatened her contentment.

  When Jane received the knave of spades Agnes could see hope stir. How cruel it was that someone who wanted to wed received no offers. Jane's situation was so different to her own as the daughter of a prosperous vicar. Jane's father had been a schoolmaster until ill health forced him to retire on a small annuity, and both he and his wife were peevish. They considered Jane their natural support and dogsbody.

  Agnes had no memory of her mother for she'd died when she was an infant, but her father was a dear companion. The vicarage was handsome, the living provided well for them, and her father, the son of an earl, had income in addition. She could afford any indulgence she wished, though most of them were for her garden. She'd been born in Dux Cherrymead, knew everyone here, and happily served the village in charitable works.

  There was one fly in the ointment. Her father had begun to worry about her single state. She knew why. His mother, the Dowager Countess of Martineux thought that he wasn't doing his duty by her and was peppering him with letters to that effect. Agnes had managed to soothe him, but she wished she could silence the old dragon.

  She'd hardly been paying attention to the cards, and started when the king of clubs was turned up in front of her. "That proves it's all nonsense," she said.

  It was Jane, the traitor, who said, "Now, now, Agnes, you never know. If Cupid's arrow pierces your heart you might change your mind."

  "I'd more likely bleed to death."

  Everyone laughed as if it was a joke and the game went on. Lost Hope swallowed quite a few gentlemen so that by the end Marietta had received one other knave and Lucy no other king, thank heavens. In the very last round Jane had received the king of spades, and blushed.

  "The
re, see," Marietta said, quite kindly. "Your swain will arrive, and he will be hard working." She slid a mischievous look at Agnes. "Clubs means disputes."

  Agnes had thought that king of clubs had a sinister dark look in his eyes.

  "But you're promised a husband all the same," Marietta said. "I know a way of finding the initials of his name. We'll need a sheet of paper-"

  "No, thank you." Agnes herded her guests back into the parlor, but she was comforted by the thought of disputes. If a gentleman did turn up to pay serious court there would indeed be disputes, but ones she could win.

  When her guests had left she returned to the dining room to gather up the cards.

  Her father came in. He was as plump as she with the same blue eyes. His light brown hair was showing gray. "Why are you standing by the fire with a pack of cards in your hand, my dear?"

  "I'm rather tempted to burn them. They've been used for horrid devices and I found myself taking them seriously for a moment."

  He chuckled. "What have you all been up to?"

  She told him and he showed no alarm. "There are any number of such superstitions. I remember trying some myself when young."

  "To predict your wife?" she asked, surprised.

  "Young men are not generally so mad on that course -- until they fall in love, that is. Then they can truly run mad. It was to find out if I would be rich, famous or heroic."

  "And what did the spells tell you?"

  "Different things every time, of course, but generally the truth. That I would have the great good fortune to be none of those, but an ordinary gentleman in comfortable circumstances settled in a pleasant place. And no prediction could have avoided your dear mother's death."