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FULL NAME: Elspeth Lily Urmstone (née Hawthcourt)

BORN: 15 June 1758, Berylford St. Barbara, Hampshire (aged 35-36 in Lust & Liberty; 56-57 in Sin & Secrecy)

EYE COLOUR: Brown

HAIR COLOUR: Dark

FAMILY: The Hon. Juvelia Ullswell (née Hawthcourt) (sister); Edmund Urmstone (husband, deceased); The Hon. Marcus Hawthcourt (father, deceased); Beatrix McLaer (mother, deceased); Duncan McLaer (cousin); The Hon. Farquhar Hawthcourt (grandfather, deceased)

ALLIES: Judith-Ann Haffisidge, Lady Oliviera Vyrrington, Julia Osborne, Agnes Gwynne, Juvelia Ullswell

ENEMIES: Jesse Blameford, Mr Jackdawe

OCCUPATION: Socialite; town gossip

PERSONALITY: Fiery, nosy, recalcitrant, interfering, domineering, querulous, fastidious, snobbish, defiant, stubborn

POLITICS: Conservative

FAITH: Catholic

Who is Elspeth Urmstone?

In a tale that is largely melodramatic and themed around death and domestic drama, there needs to be some form of comic relief. And The Berylford Scandals‘ answer to that is Elspeth Urmstone, in my opinion. While fulfilling the town gossip archetype, I needed to explore beyond that and make her prone to accidental ridicule. And to say things she does not quite mean. All this is harnessed in her conservatism, which applies to everything she does in her life. In her style of dress, in her social attitudes, all the way to the food she eats. In many ways, she is a tribute to all well-meaning women who come off as not especially nice people. We all know a Mrs Urmstone in some way, I think. You cannot hate her totally, for she is staunchly loyal to the friends she has – Lady Vyrrington and Mrs Haffisidge – almost to a fault. She will not tolerate a word against either of them, even in the face of scandal.

Some of my favourite moments of Mrs Urmstone take place in narrative that I ultimately had to remove from Lust & Liberty. Indeed, in the original novel, we meet her at the same time as Lady Vyrrington, Lord Wilson, Abel Stirkwhistle and other pivotal characters, as they attend a party. She is with their hostess, Lady Riva Bært-Styridge and her sister Juvelia, at odds with the Scandinavian food on offer…

from the original Chapter I of The Berylford Scandals: Lust & Liberty

Food was laid out at liberty to be taken by the guests on a table in the large drawing room.  At least half of this table was filled with delicacies native to Norway and Denmark. Such delicacies included raskekako: dumplings filled with bacon; sursild: a type of pickled herring that was served with rye bread; and, on a sweeter note, pikekyss: a baked meringue. There were also slices of fish, which were slightly odd in appearance in the opinion of the fastidious Miss Elspeth Hawthcourt who, much to the embarrassment of her much better–composed sister Juvelia, questioned Lady Riva on the dish.

“It is klippfisk, Miss Elspeth,” replied Lady Riva, “Cod.”

She spoke in the most sophisticated and elegantly–presented English, yet maintained her smooth and – to an extent – deep contralto Norwegian accent. Some of her sounds were embellished with a refined trill of her tongue. With the words native to her own language, her voice seemed to deepen even further, yet managed to add to the refinement of her pronunciation and intonation.

“It looks rather unfortunate to be cod,” returned Miss Elspeth, “Has something tragic occurred to it?”

Lady Riva chuckled, as did Miss Juvelia, the latter nervously in response to her sister’s incredulous questions.

“It is a dish that originated by accident, you could say, Miss Elspeth,” Lady Riva said, “the legend is that: a fire was started in the house of a poor family who were eating cod that night. They, of course, fled the house which collapsed in the fire, and ash covered the fish. A subsequent rainstorm caused the ash to seep into the fish meat. When uncovering the remains, the family found it and they were certainly in no position to dispose of the food. And thusly, that is how klippfisk came about.”

Miss Elspeth grimaced, diverting her hand from the platter on which the klippfisk was being served.

“Perhaps… I will decline this time, Lady Riva,” she said.

“Of course, Miss Elspeth. Admittedly, it most certainly is an acquired taste. Instead, I can recommend the cheeses that we Norwegians offer.”

“Cheeses?” Miss Elspeth remarked excitedly, as she was only too partial to it, “I was not aware cheese was available in Norway.”

“But of course there is cheese, Miss Elspeth. I can thoroughly recommend to you the gammelost,” said Lady Riva, pointing at a waxy–looking cheese.

Miss Elspeth observed it, again grimacing at what the Countess had suggested to her. It was of a most pungent aroma.

“Might I ask how much one is recommended to slice?” she said.

“I would recommend you have a care with how much you slice. Gammelost is a rare cheese. Very difficult to find nowadays.” She slanted a sideways glance at Miss Juvelia.

Miss Elspeth took up one of the many cheese knives that lay beside the plate on which the gammelost, as well as all the other cheeses that were there with it, was set.

Very hesitantly, she cut herself a very thin slice of the gammelost, and an equally–thin piece of bread. Placing the two together and pressing them between her fingers and thumb, she held them to her lips, squinting at the tanginess of the cheese’s smell.

Miss Juvelia and the Countess watched her as she hindered herself in taking the cheese. She diverted her eyes from her food and smiled nervously at them both. The Countess of Styridge’s eyes widened as if to press Miss Elspeth to continue. Taking this hint, and giving another reluctant half–smile, Miss Elspeth opened her mouth, screwing her eyes shut and biting at thin strip of the bread and the gammelost at the same time, and immediately shutting her mouth, opening one eye slightly to see if the Countess and her sister were still watching her, which they were. In order to keep up appearances – a principle only too important to Miss Elspeth – she smiled and kept her eyes shut as she chewed what she had taken.

As she chewed, Lady Riva turned her back to Miss Elspeth and whispered to Miss Juvelia:

“Gammelost, in English, is literal for old cheese.”

Miss Elspeth did not chew for long, and swallowed the cheese in order to rid herself of the flavour, which resembled that of sour milk. She grimaced once again as soon as she had swallowed, and then opened her eyes slowly, smiling as she saw that Lady Riva and Miss Juvelia were still watching her.

“Definitely… an acquired taste, Your Ladyship,” she said, maintaining her false smile.

Origins & Basis

Despite now being one of the main characters of The Berylford Scandals series, Mrs Urmstone was originally a background character that only appeared in one short scene in the original novel. It was the subsequent revisions that took this interfering and shrill old bat and reworked her into a socialite of the same rank as Lady Vyrrington, not to mention one of her closest friends. And then we gave her a dead husband, plus a Scottish heritage that associated with royalty back in the day. This was to give her some vulnerability – Mrs Urmstone is somewhat ashamed that, despite marrying the Lord Mayor of the town she loves, she has not earned a title or any substantial fortune, unlike her sister Juvelia.

Literary Inspiration

Mrs Urmstone fills the archetypal town gossip role, most notably Miss Octavia Pole from Elizabeth Gaskell’s Cranford. Another woman who is so committed to nosing into others’ business that she does not come off as particularly nice to know, but loyal to a fault. Mrs Urmstone’s eccentricity and waspish words are also in part inspired by Betsey Trotwood from Dickens’ David Copperfield. If ever she were to retire to the seaside, I wouldn’t put it past her to oust all unwelcome visitors (and donkeys) off of her property.

Do you love or hate Mrs Urmstone? Does she remind you of anyone – both real-life or fictional? Let us know in the comments section. Take a look at our other characters, and follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram to keep up with our news…

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FULL NAME: Amethyst Judith Hazel Whitlocke (née Cheshill)

BORN: 20 August 1763, Maidstone, Kent (aged 30-31 in Lust & Liberty; 51-52 in Sin & Secrecy)

EYE COLOUR: Brown

HAIR COLOUR: Brown

FAMILY: Judith Cheshill (mother, deceased); George Whitlocke (husband)

ALLIES: Lady Oliviera Vyrrington, George Whitlocke, Judith-Ann Haffisidge

ENEMIES: Luke Warwick

OCCUPATION: Lady’s maid, housekeeper and cook

PERSONALITY: Timid, subservient, kind, unconfident; inferiority complex sufferer

POLITICS: Unknown

FAITH: Catholic

Who is Amethyst Whitlocke?

Amethyst is probably the purest member of the Vyrrington household. But that’s only because she would be too frightened to be anything more or less. As a character, I set her up to show redeeming qualities of both her mistress Lady Vyrrington and her husband George Whitlocke. Both have an affection for her that they do not display to any other characters.

But by characterising Amethyst like this, I have allowed her to be an unlikely suspect in a few of the mysteries involved in the Berylford Scandals. Pushing Lady Vyrrington down the stairs was one. It showed a depth to Amethyst’s personality – while she fears almost everyone, she is still also capable of anger, even towards someone like the Countess. And when Lady Vyrrington threatens to kill any hope of her marrying Whitlocke in Lust & Liberty, that’s a step too far. In Sin & Secrecy, I have had a chance to show a newfound confidence and calm in Amethyst, in a conversation between her and her husband after Abel Stirkwhistle gives him an awkward task…

from Chapter XVI of The Berylford Scandals: Sin & Secrecy

“What did Mr Stirkwhistle want?” she changed the subject as the butler finally seated himself on the edge of their bed and began to remove his livery. He did not respond immediately. If there was one person Whitlocke felt he could confide in, it was his wife, but his protectiveness over her was fierce. And from the conversation he had just had with Abel – a scenario drowning in secrets and, for all Whitlocke knew, far worse – it was imperative that Amethyst be spared any association. Not just for her own sake, but for that of Lady Vyrrington. Her lady’s maid was as good as a little sister to the Countess, having been in her service since she was an emaciated, frightened ward of the workhouse. Under the tutelage and hitherto unfamiliar kindness of Lady Oliviera, Amethyst’s sense of total inferiority was gradually eroded and, now in her mid-forties, she was confidently in charge of the upkeep of Beryl Court alongside her husband. While the numerous losses she had suffered had rendered the Countess a frigid and loveless shell, that sororal affection had lasted. In that familial vein, any scandal associated with the Whitlockes extended to Her Ladyship. And that would never be acceptable.

“Nothing of consequence,” at length the butler to his wife replied, cursing himself mentally for deceiving her.

“Thought it might have had to do with that boy brought to the house,” returned Amethyst, resuming her book. Whitlocke at once wheeled around.

“The boy?”

“Yes; as a matter of fact, Lady Vyrrington’s appetite only seemed to change after that little episode. It might be bothering her.”

“I doubt that.”

“You never know, George – there may yet be the slightest maternal feeling left in her.”

“Hardly the sort of child to rekindle that, though!”

“No, I suppose not.”

As he loosened his cravat, a synapse fired in Whitlocke’s shrewd mind that gave him an idea. An idea to fulfil the task Abel had put upon him, while not lying to his wife any further.

            “She was interested in the boy, come to think of it,” he observed. To himself, Amethyst thought.

            “Yes, she mentioned him to me as well while I was helping her retire,” she replied, not looking up from her book.

            “Perhaps it does do her good. To have young people in the house again. Now it’s only us two, Mr Stirkwhistle, Mrs Urmstone and Mrs Haffisidge who are ever here with her.”

“Lamplighter boys don’t make good companions to ladies of rank, George.”

“I’m not saying he’d be her companion. A junior servant, nothing more. But a young face she’d see in a daily capacity.”

Amethyst chuckled.

“You actually sound serious,” she said.

“I am serious.”

Her mouth hung open.

“And just how, pray, are you planning to persuade Lady Vyrrington to approve this? More to it – since when did you care so much how she feels?”

Whitlocke had not thought that far. Fortunately for him, he was a skilled improviser – a trait that made him all the more efficient as a butler – the ability to expect the unexpected – and so his answer came swiftly. He disguised the moments it took to think about it with more grumbling of begrudging concern for his mistress’ welfare.

            “Well, we’re neither of us getting any younger, my love. And, if Lady Vyrrington dies, and Master Spencer or Master Edward don’t come back from the wars-”

            “Oh George, don’t say things like that!” Amethyst interrupted in a moment of uncharacteristic exasperation, “Those dear boys – of course they will come back!”

            “But suppose they don’t, dear. Lady Amelia cannot inherit until she comes of age or until she marries. And if she does marry, control of the estate passes to her husband. He’ll probably have his own staff.”

            “So… what? You want to stay in Her Ladyship’s favour? And pray that she leaves us a stipend in her will? I think you know the money for that kind of thing has long been spent.”

Whitlocke, at last undressed for bed, laid back next to his wife. He had no further words – she had thwarted him in a rare instance of confidence on her part. But in the moments of silence that followed as she continued on with her book, the butler remembered that there had been two questions she had put to him, and he had only answered the second.

            “I was thinking you might put the suggestion to her, Amethyst,” he broke the silence.

            “What suggestion?”

            “That we hire that boy as a servant. It may do Lady Vyrrington good, as I say. Will you do it as a favour to me?”

Closing her book, for she knew she would be in receipt of no peace now, Amethyst sighed a heavy sigh.

            “Of course I can’t deny you, George,” she murmured, taking his hand in hers, “Though you must know the outcome you want is far from likely.”

            “I know that. Just want you to ask her. Mind you – if she were to say ‘yes’ to anyone, it’s you!”

            “She has said ‘no’ plenty of times as well! But very well – I’ll mention it to her when I’m delivering her breakfast tomorrow.”

Origins & Basis

Amethyst went through a lot of changes from her inception back in 2008. She was one of the original 40 characters that went into the first Berylford story, but her name was actually Imelda Burgess (her husband also had this surname). Imelda was deliberately after Imelda Staunton, one of my favourite actresses. I can’t actually remember why I changed her forename at all. Amethyst is my sister’s birthstone, so it’s something of a homage to her, while Whitlocke is a manipulation of one of my great-grandparents’ surnames.

Over the course of writing, the only thing to change about Amethyst’s character is the nature of her relationships with her husband and her mistress. Whitlocke was originally quite abusive (albeit not physically so, just verbally threatening), while Lady Vyrrington was as cold with her as with everyone else. I refer back to what I said earlier in the article – I ultimately decided Amethyst was to show off these two characters’ redeeming qualities. Her backstory, involving near-starvation in a workhouse and being rescued by Lady Vyrrington’s father, came in the early drafts of Lust & Liberty, when trying to justify why Amethyst was so timid and easily frightened

Literary Inspiration

Whitlocke is something of a sympathetic version of Jeremiah Flintwinch from Dickens’ Little Dorrit. With this in mind, Amethyst is loosely based on Affery, Flintwinch’s wife. The meek little maidservant who lives in mortal fear of everyone and everything. But with the changes I put into Amethyst over the years, she became less and less like that original model.

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