I knew I wanted to write about an English woman in the late Victorian period and had a strong image of her standing on the top of the cliff path on the Greek island of Santorini, one of my very favorite places. Once I started asking questions about how she came to be there, the story started to invent itself.
I was determined not to create twenty-first-century characters, drop them into bustles and corsets, and call them historical. Fundamentally, we may have much in common with those who lived before us, but sensibilities have changed greatly. A strong-minded young woman in 1890 would not think in precisely the same way one would today. Emily’s search for independence had to make sense in the context of the society in which she was raised. So she rebels in small ways at first, gradually becoming more steadfast in her convictions, more confident in herself, but she’s vulnerable because she’s not prepared to absolutely renounce her position in society. And, really, I think it’s that sort of compromise for which we all search: How much of our culture, our society, do we accept? How much do we reject? Can we live according to our principles without sacrificing anything? It’s very easy to have strong opinions when holding them does not threaten the comfort of our daily life.
The paramount goal for an aristocratic woman in Victorian England was to make the best possible marriage, one that would preserve fortunes and estates while increasing her standing in society. The marriage market was a competitive one. A family might have many eligible daughters but could only have one eldest son, who, alone among his brothers, stood to gain a significant inheritance. A young lady would feel a great deal of pressure to catch a respectable husband in as few seasons as possible after making her social debut. If two or three years passed and she was not engaged, she would be considered a failure.
Emily, coming from a wealthy, titled family, would have been in an excellent position to make a good match, and although I wanted her to be independent, it would have made no sense, historically speaking, for a girl in her position to avoid marriage. Her parents would never have allowed it. As an unmarried woman, she would be subject to her mother’s rule, a situation, that, given Lady Bromley’s character, would hardly have allowed her to do the things I wanted. But I did not want her to be married. A Victorian gentleman, even an enlightened one, would still have a decidedly Victorian view of marriage. To make her a widow seemed the perfect solution. I would be able to give her a certain degree of freedom without having to sacrifice historical accuracy.
Once I had Emily’s character and situation firmly in my mind, I started to consider what might inspire in her an intellectual awakening. I’ve always been struck by the graceful beauty of classical art and fascinated by the enduring nature not just of Homer’s epic poems, but of Greek mythology in general. It’s astounding to me that these stories, first told more than two thousand years ago, still resonate with people. Can you imagine writing something that could permeate Western culture for that long? I’d be afraid even to try!
Regardless of how many times I’ve read The Iliad, I always hope, hope, hope that this time Achilles won’t kill Hector, even though I know it’s impossible. I fling the book across the room every time I get to the part where Hector dies. I can’t help it. It slays me. But that’s part of the brilliance of the story; even though we know what happens, we still care desperately about these characters.
(If you like Hector, read the lovely, heartbreaking poem Irish poet Valentin Iremonger wrote about the night before the Trojan hero’s death.)
As I was concocting the plot for the novel, I decided to have part of the intrigue involve art forgeries, which can be immensely difficult to detect. Two of the pieces I’ve mentioned in the book, both pointed out as fakes by Mr. Attewater, were actual objects found in the museum. The first, a bust of Julius Caesar purchased by the British Museum in 1818 for approximately thirty pounds, was not only exhibited, it was reproduced extensively as well, becoming one of the most famous images of the great Roman. It is not an ancient piece at all, dating instead from approximately 1800.
Second, the fragment Mr. Attewater confesses to having sold under false pretenses is based on an object that came to the museum in 1889, a piece depicting a boy’s head. It was not until 1961 that it was determined it had been copied, sometime after 1840, from a slab of the North frieze of the Parthenon.
Bernard Ashmole, a former Keeper of Greek and Roman Antiquities at the British Museum and Lincoln Chair of Classical Art at Oxford, recognized that both of these items were forgeries, and they were included in a marvelous exhibition staged by the British Museum called “Fake? The Art of Deception.”
To me, the most fascinating thing about forgeries is that they make one think about the true definition of art. If a work is copied so perfectly that no one can detect it as a fraud, why isn’t it art? Why does only the original count? Yet, of course, the original is different somehow. But how can we quantify that difference?
FACT VS. FICTION
I HAVE TAKEN THE LIBERTY OF USING SEVERAL HISTORICAL persons as characters in And Only to Deceive. Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who once said, “Why shouldn’t art be pretty? There are enough unpleasant things in the world,” and his wife, Aline, are of course real. They were married at a city hall in Paris on April 14, 1890.
Emily’s friend, Alexander Murray, was named Keeper of Greek and Roman Antiquities at the British Museum in 1886. His Manual of Mythology was recently reprinted as a facsimile of the original edition.
Lord Lytton was the British ambassador in Paris from 1887 until his death in 1891. He published fiction and poetry under the pseudonym Owen Meredith, his most successful work being a novel-length poem called Lucile. His father, Edward Bulwer Lytton, wrote Last Days of Pompeii, a book that was wildly popular in the nineteenth century.
Gordon Bennett, the publisher of the Paris Herald and son of the founder of the New York Herald, was responsible for financing Henry Stanley’s famous search for Dr. David Livingstone. He immigrated to France after a scandalous drunken incident at his then-fiancée’s house ended with him challenging her brother to a duel. No one was killed, but Mr. Bennett found himself no longer welcome in New York society. His behavior did not much improve upon his arrival in Paris, where he would pull tablecloths off restaurant tables if he found the service to be lacking. Nonetheless, he was handsome enough that the ladies were willing to overlook his shortcomings.
Charles Frederick Worth, though not precisely a character in the novel, was a man near and dear to the hearts of the nineteenth-century women fortunate enough to be in a position to afford the elegant dresses he designed, using the most luxurious fabrics and trims. He is often called the father of haute couture.
LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION…
I HAVE TRIED TO USE ACTUAL PLACES AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE in And Only to Deceive. Sadly, many of the mansions that lined Berkeley Square in the nineteenth century were pulled down in the twentieth, but in 1890, the square was one of the most fashionable in London. Hyde Park and the British Museum are of course familiar to those even casually acquainted with the city, and all of the objects Emily sees in the museum were there in 1890, with one notable exception: The Judgment of Paris vase is, alas, fictional.
Travel to Paris was common for wealthy Britons, many of whom would come in January after they’d tired of country house life and before the start of the Season in London. Carriage rides in the Bois de Boulogne, strolls through the Jardin des Tuileries, trips to the Opéra, parties, and balls filled the days and nights of Englishmen abroad.
The Hôtel Meurice still offers some of the most luxurious accommodations to be found, although extensive renovations completed in 1907 have altered it since the time of Emily’s visit. The Café Anglais closed in 1913. As with the British Museum, everything Emily sees in the Louvre would have been found there at the time the book was set.
It is impossible to overstate the glow that comes from hours spent walking through the lovely streets of the French capital. Emily’s solitary wanderings in the city come at a difficul
t and sad time for her, but even in such circumstances, the solace one could find in Notre Dame or Sainte-Chapelle is unparalled. If one must be miserable, it might as well be in beautiful surroundings.
Although Emily did not make it all the way to Africa, it was not unheard of for women in the period to travel extensively. Some went on tours, some traveled with male guardians, but a not insignificant number traveled with female companions, letting their own interests guide their itineraries. There are a number of fascinating travel memoirs written by Victorian women, including Amelia Edward’s Thousand Miles Up the Nile, Gertrude Bell’s Persian Pictures, and Mary Kingsley’s Travels in West Africa, Congo Français, Corisco, and Cameroons.
A widow in Emily’s situation would find herself in a very different London from the one she occupied while her husband was still alive. Wealthy women had social schedules that could exhaust even the heartiest of souls: rides in the park, luncheons, garden parties, afternoons making calls, tea parties, dinners, soirées, balls, the opera, theater. The death of one’s spouse brought an immediate stop to such activities.
When Prince Albert died in 1861, Queen Victoria entered a period of mourning that would last the remainder of her life. No one was expected to emulate the queen’s devotion to the memory of her dear departed, but at least a year of deep mourning was required of widows, a time during which they would dress in unrelenting black and wear jewelry fashioned either from jet or from the hair of the deceased. Thank heavens that Colin Hargreaves did not have the presence of mind to snip some of Philip’s hair to return to Emily!
An article that appeared in Harper’s Bazaar on April 17, 1886, comments on women who were not devastated to lose their spouses:
A heartless wife who, instead of being grieved at the death of her husband, is rejoiced at it, should be taught that society will not respect her unless she pays to the memory of the man whose name she bears that “homage which vice pays to virtue,” a commendable respect to the usages of society in the matter of mourning and of retirement from the world.
Once she entered the period of half-mourning, the widow would start her gradual return to society. Black gowns gave way to grey, mauve, and lavender, and could now be made from silk instead of crape or bombazine. To alert the members of her circle that she was ready to face society, a widow would leave calling cards at the houses of her acquaintances. She would begin to accept more invitations, always being careful only to attend events that were not too joyful and to behave in ways respectful of the memory of her husband.
It is during this phase of Emily’s life that the action of And Only to Deceive takes place. I wanted her to be somewhat isolated from society so that she would come to see that she did not, in fact, miss it as much as she might have thought. Because she, like the heartless wife of Harper’s Bazaar, is not truly grieving Philip; it’s an awkward and uncomfortable period for her, and a perfect time for her to look for intellectual stimulation.
SUGGESTIONS FOR FURTHER READING
Private Palaces: Life in the Great London Houses, Christopher Simon Sykes
The Bourgeois Experience: Victoria to Freud (five volumes), Peter Gay
The Decline and Fall of the British Aristocracy, David Cannadine
Victorian and Edwardian Fashion, Alison Gernsheim
Age of Opulence: The Belle Epoque in the Paris Herald, 1890–1914, Hebe Dorsey
Fake? The Art of Deception, Mark Jones (editor)
Parallel Lives: Five Victorian Marriages, Phyllis Rose
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book could never have been started, let alone completed, without the enduring support of my parents, Gary and Anastasia Gutting, who have encouraged me to write for as long as I can remember. They were also kind enough to provide me with two brothers whose assistance was invaluable: Edward, for his expertise in classics, and Tom, who is an excellent writing partner and novelist in his own right.
I am grateful for my friends in New Haven, Connecticut: Kristen Fairey, who discussed Emily over more pots of tea than I can count (when will Fortnum & Mason start supplying us directly?), and Rebecca Weiner, whose skills as both an editor and a writer helped this book beyond measure.
Myriad thanks to my agent, Anne Hawkins, who is simply fabulous and loads of fun, and to my wonderful team at HarperCollins. I can’t imagine a better editor than Carolyn Marino. Jennifer Civiletto provided insightful suggestions and was always available to help me. Thanks also to Maureen Sugden for her careful copyediting of my manuscript.
My husband and son, Matt and Alexander, are the best family anyone could hope for. They made it possible for me to do what I love, and I couldn’t be more appreciative. I am also indebted to my grandmother, Anastasia Sertl, for her constant inspiration and support.
Finally, special thanks to Kristy Kiernan, a brilliant writer without whom this book would still be untitled.
About the Author
TASHA ALEXANDER is a graduate of Notre Dame, where she signed on as an English major in order to have a legitimate excuse for spending all her time reading. Following graduation, she played nomad for several years, eventually settling with her family in Tennessee. When not reading, she can be found hard at work on her next book featuring Lady Emily Ashton.
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PRAISE FOR And Only to Deceive
“Newcomer Tasha Alexander almost immediately demonstrates her ability to walk the fine line between history and mystery, throwing her protagonist into a cauldron of intrigue, scandal, and danger.”
—Baltimore Sun
“The story spans genres, appealing to lovers of suspense, history, and romance…historically correct and beautifully done.”
—South Bend Tribune
“Engagingly suspenseful and rich with period detail…provides a fascinating look at the repressive social mores…in Victorian high society.”
—BookPage
“Charming…. The archaeological background will lure readers who like to dig for their clues.”
—Publishers Weekly
“If you like an intelligently written historical mystery with just a touch of romance, this will fill the bill nicely.”
—Deadly Pleasures magazine
“Sophisticated, intelligent, and above all, fun, And Only to Deceive will appeal to fans of Anne Perry, Elizabeth Peters, and anyone who can’t get enough of Victorian England…. Not to be missed.”
—Elizabeth Letts, author of Quality of Care
“An entertaining debut…. Emily Ashton is such an appealing character that readers will want to follow her to new mysteries as she discovers new loves, and herself.”
—Nashville Scene
“Alexander’s writing made me remember why I became an English major in the first place. It’s for the books. And Only to Deceive could easily become one of the classics.”
—ReviewingtheEvidence.com
“Captivating, enchanting, and delightful! With And Only to Deceive, Alexander has created a compelling mélange of murder, intrigue, romance, and sleuthing in nineteenth-century British society.”
—J. A. Konrath, author of Bloody Mary
“Had Jane Austen written The Da Vinci Code, she may well have come up with this elegant novel.”
—Martha O’Connor, author of The Bitch Posse
“More spellbinding intrigue and romance than a Jane Austen novel, Tasha Alexander’s And Only to Deceive transports readers to a magical time in England and Paris, and it’s a ride no one will want to step off of.”
—Robert W. Walker, author of Absolute Instinct and City for Ransom
“This engaging, witty mix of Victorian cozy and suspense thriller draws its dramatic spark from the endearingly headstrong heroine’s growth in life and love. A memorable debut.”
—Booklist
“An admirable and literate debut novel.”
—Nashville Tennessean
“A delightful debut novel by a talented au
thor. The narrator is reminiscent of one of those strong female characters that enliven the novels of Trollope, the historical settings are handled deftly, the plot is intricate and captivating, and all kinds of lore and learning are effortlessly conveyed. Above all, it is a good read. So let’s hear it for Tasha Alexander, one of the brightest new stars on the literary horizon.”
—Ralph McInerny, author of Requiem for a Realtor: A Father Dowling Mystery
“Fans of Anne Perry and Elizabeth Peters will welcome this debut novel.”
—Denver Post
“Charming…. Tasha Alexander makes Emily a studious and stubborn heroine. And the author’s knowledge of the social conventions and etiquette of the Victorian period is impressive.”
—Dallas Morning News
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AND ONLY TO DECEIVE. Copyright © 2005 by Tasha Tyska. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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