Category: Research

News: My New Series...and Some adventures from Lockdown

13/8/2020

and some adventures from lockdown....

2020 has been a dreadful year for everyone across the globe, and I sincerely hope that all my readers and their families have stayed safe during this horrible pandemic.
Of course, us authors have been self-isolating since 4000 B.C., however, this little gad-about has had her wings well and truly clipped in 2020. So, with no social life or travel to distract me, I've quietly got on with my research for my new series of Gemma James Mysteries, the first book of which I've decided to call: Smoke & Cracked Mirrors.
I trawled through 1940's newspapers online; ordered and read a couple of obscure 1920's books from an antiquarian bookshop in the US; watched WW2 documentaries on TV and underwent a massive reading programme to re-acquaint myself with the 'Golden Age of Crime Fiction'. Most of the books I've read have been eBooks but the photo below shows a selection of the paperbacks/hardbacks I've acquired.

Unbelievably, I've also had a couple of adventures during lockdown while trying to research for my novel.
I made email contact with the staff at York Central Library, who have been incredibly helpful - but unknown to them, I also managed to get myself locked in their grounds during one of my visits to the deserted streets of this historic city.
The library was shut but I decided to take a few photos of the outside of the 1930s building. I found an open gate and wandered off down a path. There's a Roman wall at the bottom of their garden (as so often happens in York) and I was distracted by this for a while. When I returned, the 6 ft high, spiked gate had been locked. There was no way I was getting over that. I had to hail a passing electrician who went and fetched out a male librarian to release me. He gave me a funny look but thankfully, didn't ask for my name. York Library has several of my novels on their shelves and I really don't want them to know what a daft idiot I can be.
I also bought three non-fiction books about wartime York from a masked bookshop owner while standing outside the shop in the historic, cobbled street. This enterprising lady had opened her business but was serving everyone from over a tressle table blocking the door. She wouldn't let anyone handle the books so I told her what I wanted and she read out the blurb from the back covers and the chapter headings. I bought three. It was an interesting and unusual form of customer service but those books were incredibly helpful and as you can see from the photo below of my planning, I'm now ready to start writing.

Each of the postcards in the first three columns is 'scene' in my new novel. Each of the different colours represents a different 'case' my two lady detectives are investigating. Of course there's computer software available which would do this for me if I wanted to use it - but I love the tactile feel of writing a scene and then screwing up the postcard and tossing it into the wastepaper bin. I find it very satisfying to watch them disappear from the board.
Those postcards only represent HALF of the novel (I got bored of writing them out at this point). But I know from experience that once I get going, I may be able to finish the story without postcards.
Anyway, wish me luck. I aim to write 20,000 words a month, which should still give me plenty of time to potter in my garden and play with my grandson, Little Bruce.
Hopefully, the first draft of Smoke & Cracked Mirrorsshould be finished by Xmas.
Best wishes - and stay safe.
Karen Charlton x

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Researching The 'Golden Age' of Crime Fiction

23/5/2020

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The Murder AT The Vicarage

Why Agatha Christie Was So Popular

As part of my research for my new series set in York in WW2, I’m currently reading dozens of novels and short stories written by British ‘Golden Age’ crime writers. Detective crime fiction is an inspiration for my two new lady sleuths, Gemma James and Roberta ‘Bobbie’ Baker. I needed to find out what books they might have enjoyed.

York in the 1940s

I've also trawled hundreds of old newspapers to gain some historical perspective and I was shocked to read about a bitter argument in York in 1940 between a women’s group and the local police. The latter had refused to recruit female officers even though a quarter of their men had signed up to fight and left.
Prejudice against women was rife in British society and the police force at this time. It doesn’t seem to have crossed anyone’s mind that women were as capable as men at solving crimes.
This attitude is reflected in the 'Golden Age' crime fiction. Most of these detective stories are narrated by very clever men, who tell other very clever men how they – or one of their very clever male friends – solved the murder. This style of narration - made famous by Arthur Conan Doyle in his Sherlock Holmes Mysteries - was copied relentlessly in the first half of the 20th Century.

A brilliant fictional female detective had yet to be created. This huge gap in the market was eventually filled by Agatha Christie with the elderly spinster, Miss Jane Marple, a character whose crime-solving mind is sharper than her knitting needles. No wonder she was so popular.
I have just re-read Murder in the Vicarage and – when put into context against the output of Christie’s contemporaries – it was a breath of fresh air. No wonder she was so popular.
Christie’s plots are always a devilish brain-tease and this one is no exception. But to have a female character solving a crime that baffled the police was a radical and ground-breaking development.
Christie never commented on politics or involved herself in political campaigns and I’m sure she would have hated to be called a ‘feminist’. But the creation of Jane Marple was a subtle and brave contribution towards changing society’s attitude and lifting the ignorant prejudice against female sleuths and detectives.

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Research Article: 'The Body in the Well'

26/3/2020

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'Dreadful Murder'

'For a week past, the water in the well of the Duke of York public-house at Brompton, Kent, had been affected with so nauseous a taste and smell that it became unfit for use. The servant, when drawing, found something hindered the bucket from filling…and thought that she perceived something like a body, and on moving the rope backwards and forwards to fill the bucket, she found pieces of skin and animal substance adhering to it when it was drawn up. Within the last few days, the smell at the mouth of the well had become so exceedingly offensive that no one would go near it.’

The Morning Chronicle, 23rd October 1818

The murder of the heavily pregnant Bridget Donallen and the callous disposal of her naked body caused a public outcry in 1818. The wife of William Donallen, a soldier in the 98th regiment, Bridget had been murdered and ignominiously dumped down a tavern well in Westcourt Road, Old Brompton. Her water-logged and rotting corpse wasn’t discovered until a month later.

Map showing Brompton, Kent

The newspapers of the time reported every grisly detail surrounding the difficulty experienced by a group of volunteers when they tried to retrieve her remains. The Morning Chronicle, in particular, was in its element:

‘On Saturday morning, some soldiers who were drinking at the Duke of York, offered, for a trifling reward, to go down the well and clear it of its impurity. A young man was accordingly lowered down, but before he arrived at the bottom, he was almost overpowered by the fetid effluvia, and called out to the men who were lowering him to stop. Having waited a few seconds and recovered himself, he proceeded. He, with infinite horror and dismay, discovered a naked human body floating on its back. To be certain, he took hold of the hair, when the body rolled over, and the hair and scalp became detached from the skull and remained in his hand. Terrified in the extreme, and almost reduced to insensibility at the horrid sight, he called to the men on the brink of the well to draw him up…’

The Morning Chronicle, 23rd October 1818

The article went on to describe how one of the other soldiers later braved this hellhole and brought up the decomposing body wrapped in a sheet. But this chap was so affected by the foul air, he fainted when he reached the top and nearly fell down the well himself.

Old Brompton, Kent

An inquest was held, and Bridget’s husband was deemed to be the main suspect for the murder. A warrant was issued for Donallen’s arrest but during the weeks that had elapsed, he’d left the army and disappeared. Bow Street Police Office was contacted. Principal Officer Stephen Lavender was employed to find the suspect and solve the case. Lavender finally tracked Donallen down in County Mayo, Ireland and brought him back to Kent to face trial. Donallen was hanged for the murder of his wife in August 1823.

Bow Street Magistrates Court

I first came across this gruesome case, while browsing through the yellowing and musty pages of an 1818 edition of the Morning Chronicle during a visit to The National Archives in Kew. I needed a strong stomach as well as the standard-issue white gloves for my research that day.

The Morning Chronicle wasn’t alone in this period in its use of sickening and repugnant detail. The Times, that highly respected and most illustrious of newspapers, also pandered to the public’s taste for blood and gore. Describing another of Lavender’s cases, a particularly nasty attack on an eighty-six-year-old man in Northamptonshire, The Times took great pleasure in telling its readership about the ‘large quantity of clotted blood that had settled in his [the victims’] mouth.’

The second thing I noted in the Morning Chronicle’s report about the Donallen murder was the reporter’s indifference to the danger posed to the staff and customers of The Duke of York by the contaminated water. But when we put this in historical context, it’s not surprising really. It would be several more decades before doctors and scientists linked the drinking of poisonous water to lethal outbreaks of cholera and typhoid fever.

In fact, if we are ever to really understand our Georgian ancestors, we also need to put their morbid and blood-thirsty curiosity into context. Like a lot of people, I formed a romantic impression of Regency Britain when I was a young woman. Thanks to Wordsworth and Coleridge, Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer and Thackery’s Vanity Fair I thought it was a delightful period in history. But tea parties in a Hampshire vicarage and balls in the assembly rooms of Bath, with giggling ladies in high-waisted, white dresses escorted by dashing soldiers in scarlet uniforms, were only one small part of their complex world.

This was still an era when whole families took picnics to watch public hangings. The brutal treatment of male and female prisoners – and their children – in our over-crowded jails and prison hulks barely elicited a shrug of concern (although prison reformers like Elizabeth Fry were starting to make their voices heard). Sometimes crowds of ten thousand people lined the streets and encircled the gallows to watch the suffering and terror of the condemned. They cheered when the dying criminals twitched and defecated themselves at the end of the rope. And with over two hundred and twenty crimes on the statute books which were punishable by the death penalty, there were plenty of hangings to watch.

Further evidence of the blood-lust of this generation can be found when we examine the most popular culture of the time. Yes, the novels of Jane Austen were popular, but the Regency publishing industry made a fortune from cheap novels full of spine-chilling gothic horror laced with a generous splattering of blood. This genre dominated the industry for more than sixty years after the novel format was first invented by Samuel Richardson. In addition to this, most London theatres were kept afloat by producing a string of gory melodramas.

But don’t just take my word for it. Go online, read some old newspapers and discover for yourself the true extent of our ancestors’ revolting fascination with decomposing bodies and oozing body fluids.

The Times has its own online archives and a small monthly fee paid to The British Newspaper Archive will give you online access to another 35 million pages of other British and Irish newspapers dating back to early 1800s. These websites can be accessed for free at most libraries.

You might be surprised at what you learn – just don’t eat before you browse.

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Article: Murderous Underwear

4/3/2019

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Killer Corsets

I first came across the unusual effect corsets can have on stab victims while researching the assassination of the Empress Elisabeth of Austria in 1898. ‘Sisi’ as she was called by her family and friends was generally considered to be one of the most beautiful women in Europe and she had the world at her feet. That same world was devastated when she was stabbed to death by an Italian anarchist while walking with her lady-in-waiting to catch a steam boat on Lake Geneva.

Part of Sisi’s tragedy is that her life may have been saved if her corset hadn’t been so tight.

Empress Elisabeth of Austria

Due to the pressure from her tight undergarment, the haemorrhage of blood was slowed to mere drops. This confused her attendants who didn’t realise she was fatally injured and were slow to seek medical help. She was helped to her feet, walked another one hundred yards and boarded the steamer which left port. It was part way across the lake before she lost consciousness. Only then did her servants and the crew realise that they needed to turn back for urgent medical help. It was too late.

When I read about Empress Elisabeth’s murder, I knew I’d discovered an unusual device I could use in my fifth Detective Lavender Mystery, Murder in Park Lane. And my victim didn’t have to be restricted to a woman either. Fat Regency gentlemen (including the Prince Regent) often used male corsets.

Further research revealed that the internal bleeding caused by a single stab wound to a tightly-corsetted victim would probably cause them to lose consciousness within half an hour. But a dying person can travel a significant distance from the scene of the crime in half an hour, even in the horse-drawn world of the early 19th century. In addition to that, stabbing is a silent crime and if the victim was alone, the absence of a blood trail would make it very difficult, even impossible, for an investigator like my Bow Street Principal Officer, Stephen Lavender, to identify where the attack actually took place.

But where would be the fun in an unresolved crime?

If you’d like to follow how Lavender rose to the challenge and solved the strange murder of David MacAdam in The Murder in Park Lane, you can purchase the novel here.

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News: Researching in Ely

16/10/2017

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Researching Lavender Book #5

The summer is over, the academic year has started again and I've gone back to work.
I've recently spent four days researching for the fifth Detective Lavender Mystery in the tiny cathedral town of Ely in the watery fenland of Cambridgeshire.
Armed with a notebook and my phone camera, I've pounded the city streets; visited three museums and a nature reserve and taken two boat trips through the rural countryside.
I take photos of anything and everything which I think may come in useful from rush matting on the floor of ancient cottages to information plaques about the flora and fauna. My quest was to get 'a feel' for life in this remote and harsh area in the early part of the nineteenth century. I wanted to know about the social history of the people and their lifestyle. No detail was too small to note, whether it was the diseases that plagued them, how they survived the winter or how their gaols/jails were run.
Anyway, here are a few of the photos that will inspire my writing over the next few months. Enjoy.

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BBC RADIO INTERVIEW

14/1/2017

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The Real Stephen Lavender

Today I was interviewed about my recent contact with the living descendants of Stephen Lavender and what I've learned about the real Bow Street officer.

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Article: The Real Stephen Lavender

13/1/2017

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THE REAL STEPHEN LAVENDER

(TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN FICTION)

Thanks to the wonders of the World Wide Web, there is always a risk when you use real-life characters from history in your fiction that someone, or something, will pop up out of the ether and surprise you.
Real-life people, like my Detective Stephen Lavender, have children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And I knew that if Lavender's descendants ever decided to research their ancestor on the Internet, the chances of them stumbling across my novels was high. This thought actually made me a little nervous because although I’ve used Lavender’s name and two of his real cases in my novels, I knew hardly anything at all about the man himself. I used a lot of artistic license and imagination to flesh out the details of his personality and family life.
I focused on information I gleaned from reference books and contemporary newspaper articles about his work as a Principal Officer with Bow Street Police Office and just made up the rest. I didn’t even know how old the real Stephen Lavender was when he went up to Northumberland to solve the mystery of the stolen rent money from Kirkley Hall in Ponteland. And when I introduced this hired private detective to my readers in Catching the Eagle I made him a mature thirty-year-old man.

Kirkley Hall, Ponteland, Northumberland

I’d often wondered if any of Lavender’s descendants were still living and if so, what they would make of my fictional representation of their ancestor? Would they like him and approve of the bookish, educated and slightly-introverted character I’d created? Or would I be facing a court case for defamation of character? As a cheeky, writer friend once pointed out, “the phrase ‘loosely based-upon’ can be very useful in times like these, Karen.”
I finally got my answer in December 2016 when I was contacted by several of Stephen Lavender’s descendants. Thankfully, the first message that landed in my inbox from Australian, Richard Kinch, began with the words:
'Thank you for making my ancestor famous!’
Richard’s delight with novels about his ancestor clearly out-weighed any concerns he had about historical inaccuracies.
The contact from Richard was quickly followed by more messages from other Lavender relatives including Lesley Morgan, another Aussie descendant. In fact, it turns out that Australia is teeming with Stephen Lavender’s relatives. He had nine children. Two of his sons, and one daughter, emigrated to Australia in the 1850s. There are Facebook pages and online groups all over the southern hemisphere dedicated to connecting the Lavender relatives and exploring their genealogy.
Lesley, in particular, was incredibly helpful and informative. She told me about the real-life background to my character and explained the family history to me. She also put me in touch with a British relative, Alister Palmer, who lives in Bristol. We exchanged many emails and a fascinating picture of the real man began to emerge.
I already knew from my research, that several other members of Stephen Lavender’s family worked for Bow Street Police Office in the early nineteenth century but I didn't know that his father, Edward, was a clerk there. In my novels I've given him a father called John and a Church of England vicar for a maternal grandfather. Also in my fictional character's background is a Grammar School education and an unhappy year spent at Cambridge University studying law. From Lesley I learnt that after starting an apprenticeship in 1803 with the horse patrol, Stephen was created a Principal Officer in 1807.

Bow Street Magisgrates' Court & Police Office

But the biggest surprise was that the real Lavender wasn’t born until 1789. This means that he became a Principal Officer at the tender age of eighteen and was barely twenty when he was sent up to Northumberland to solve the mystery of the Kirkley Hall robbery. I know his investigation in this instance was meticulous and thorough – I’ve seen the court case documents at The National Archives in London – so he must have been a real child prodigy in the Regency world of policing. I wonder what thirty-seven-year-old Jamie Charlton, whom Lavender accused of the Kirkley Hall robbery, made of the situation when he was arrested and charged by a young man who was barely shaving?
I’ve always known that the London newspapers adored Stephen Lavender and zealously – and sometimes inaccurately – reported his cases and forays into the seedy underbelly of the crime-ridden capital. In 1818, Lavender solved the mystery of the vicious attack on an elderly man, William Sculthorpe in Northamptonshire (the basis for my novel, ‘The Sculthorpe Murder’) and this case was extensive reported by the London press. I wonder if his fresh-faced youth helped to make him so popular with the newspapers of the time?
Lavender, and his young family, left Bow Street in 1821 when he took up the position of Deputy Chief Constable in the industrial northern city of Manchester. Sadly, he died there in June 1833 at the relatively young age of forty-four. I’ve found his obituary written in over thirty British newspapers. He really was a celebrity in nineteenth century England.
So, what happens now? I hear my readers ask. Will you chop a decade off Lavender’s age, remove his fictional education and his gorgeous and exotic Spanish wife in order to bring the fictional character back into line with the real man?
No. I intend to carry on as before, ‘loosely basing’ my detective on the life of the real man and occasionally dipping into the archives to find more of Stephen Lavender’s cases to flesh out into an intricate plot. I hope to continue to share information with Lesley Morgan and Alister Palmer for the benefit of all of us who are interested in this fascinating man.
And anyway, I’m not sure that my mystery-reading public is ready for a detective barely out of his teens.

In this instance alone, the truth is definitely stranger than fiction.

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Article: Thoughts about book covers

23/10/2016

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'PLAGUE PITS & RIVER BONES':
BOOK COVER MUSINGS...

One of the most enjoyable things about writing a novel is playing with ideas for the book cover. Usually, by the time I'm half-way through a manuscript (which is where I am at the moment) I've some idea about what I would like on the front cover of the finished book. For me, it's always about the location of the story.
My publishers don't ask me for ideas until I've handed over the manuscript. The book cover design usually runs concurrently with the editing. APub use a very talented designer, called Lisa Horton, for my novels and I love everyone of them. Lisa rose to my challenge and created a fictional Northumbrian pele tower for 'Heiress' but I was more helpful with 'The Sans Pareil Mystery' and gave her pictures, pulled from the Internet, of the original Sans Pareil Theatre. Last year, I walked along the Market Harborough canal tow path and took photos of all the old bridges to help her with the design of the book cover for 'The Sculthorpe Murder.'

The River Thames was always going to feature on the front of 'Plague Pits & River Bones' because it's the river mentioned in the title. Originally, I toyed with the idea of using the stretch at Greenwich with the Royal Naval Hospital in the background. However, I've now changed my mind and decided that the old Westminster Bridge and the old Palace of Westminster will grace the cover of this new novel.
Both the bridge and the parliament buildings have been rebuilt since 1812, the year of this novel. Fortunately, there are plenty of paintings from the period to show us what it used to look like - many of them are painted by Canaletto. They're fascinating. I cannot get over how empty the banks of the Thames were two hundred years ago - and how wide the river seems to be without skyscrapers looming over it. Once upon a time, London was a city with a big sky.
Anyway, have a look at the inspirational paintings below and see what you think.

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News: Researching in Northamptonshire

14/8/2015

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The Setting Of
'The Sculthorpe Mystery'

I've just returned from a research trip down to the Northamptonshire/Leicestershire border which is the setting for 'The Sculthorpe Mystery.' I was absolutely stunned at how beautiful the area was. It really is very pretty - and full of history. These pictures show Rockingham Castle, the villages of Middleton and Cottingham, The Angel Inn in Market Harborough and a view of the canal. Everyone of these places will feature in 'The Sculthorpe Mystery.'

Rockingham Castle, Northamptonshire

The view from Rockingham over the Welland Valley

Nineteenth century waterpump in Middleton, the scene of the crime

St Mary Magdalene, Cottingham, Northamptonshire

The Angel Inn, Market Harborough

The canal, Market Harborough

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Article: Bow street magistrates' court

5/12/2014

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The Fascinating & gruesome history of
bow street magistrates' court

Bow Street Magistrates’ court, was the thriving centre of policing in the crime-ridden capital of England for two hundred and fifty years. Now abandoned, empty and awaiting conversion into a hotel and museum, the silent and ghostly building has seen some of Britain's most notorious criminals cross its threshold - and it still hides some grisly secrets today.

In the mid-18th century, every fourth shop in London was a ‘gin house;’ a vast sex trade sprawled across hundreds of brothels and gangs of highwaymen and cut-throats terrorized the roads on the outskirts of the capital. There was a growing call in the city to find an effective means to tackle the increasing crime and disorder. In 1747, Sir Henry Fielding, novelist and magistrate, persuaded the British government to establish a police force based at number 4 Bow Street in Covent Garden.

Fielding brought together eight reliable constables, who soon gained a reputation for honesty and efficiency in their pursuit of criminals and later came to be known as ‘The Bow Street Runners.’ But Fielding faced an uphill struggle against both organised crime in the capital, and the mistrust of the politicians who paid for his policemen.

By 1809, the year of my Detective Lavender Series of novels, Bow Street Magistrates' Court had been expanded to include several of the neighbouring properties and prison cells had built built around the back. The number of police personnel had dramatically increased and a horse patrol had been established to bring some law and order to the crime-infested outlying areas. Principal officers were restyled ‘detectives’ and had various roles. Apart from supporting their colleagues in the capital, they were often sent out to help magistrates in the provinces with difficult cases. They provided security for the Royal Family and the Bank of England and took part in undercover work in periods of insurrection, for example, during the Luddite riots in the Midlands

The arrest of Emmeline Pankhurst

Bow Street remained a magistrates’ court until 2004. During its two hundred and fifty year reign as Britain’s best-known police station, it has had both the famous, and the infamous, pass across its threshold. From the legendary lover, Giacomo Casanova, to the murderer, Dr. Crippen, and the notorious East End gangsters, the Kray twins. Other notable inmates include: the famous mother and daughter suffragettes, Emmeline and Christabel Pankhurst; the brilliant, homosexual playwright, Oscar Wilde and more recently, the Chilean dictator , General Pinochet.

Bow Street Magistrates’ court now stands empty, waiting for its conversion into a hotel and museum. It has an ornate frontage which mirrors the creamy and elaborate façade of the Royal Opera House on the opposite side of the road. But at night, it is silent, dark and brooding compared to the noisy, brightly-lit bistros and taverns on the rest of this busy street. Its façade is built with pearlescent Portland Stone and it glows eerily in the moonlight.

Around the back, the building is stark, plain and ugly, with many twentieth century extensions. A high brick wall with barbed wire encloses outhouses, prison cells and a courtyard, which was used as an exercise yard for the prisoners. My hotel was slap-bang next door and I took these photographs while leaning out of a second floor bedroom window with my camera.

I was surprised to learn that the site had been continuously occupied since the mid-16th century. As a result, before it can be refurbished an archaeological study is being carried out.

'What are they hoping to find?’ I asked the hotel manager. And added hopefully: 'Regency handcuffs?'

'No,' she replied. 'Human remains.’

The scales of justice

'But it's a court house - not a church graveyard,' I said, startled. 'It's not consecrated ground!’

‘I don't think it mattered back then,’ she replied with a certain amount of glee. 'If someone died in prison two hundred years ago and was a pauper, they'd just drop them into a hole. There's also a rumour that there was a lime-pit on the premises for disposing of any fever victims.'

I've always known that gaol fever was rife in Britain's overcrowded prisons during this era, but personally, I'm still hoping that my informant had a fevered imagination herself. The thought that my protagonist, Detective Stephen Lavender, and any of his noble colleagues might have been involved in callously disposing of dead prisoners beneath the courtyard slabs of Bow Street Magistrates' Court, just does not bear thinking about.

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and some adventures from lockdown....

The Murder AT The Vicarage

'Dreadful Murder'

Killer Corsets

Researching Lavender Book #5

The Real Stephen Lavender

THE REAL STEPHEN LAVENDER

(TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN FICTION)

'PLAGUE PITS & RIVER BONES':BOOK COVER MUSINGS...

The Setting Of 'The Sculthorpe Mystery'

The Fascinating & gruesome history of bow street magistrates' court

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'PLAGUE PITS & RIVER BONES':
BOOK COVER MUSINGS...

The Setting Of
'The Sculthorpe Mystery'

The Fascinating & gruesome history of
bow street magistrates' court