Richmond, a township of 20,000 within the bounds of southwest Greater London, boasts many graces, among them Richmond Green. The Green has an ancient history, and once hosted jousting knights; since the 18th century, cricket has taken over. Richmond Green is what's left of the Royal palace that once occupied the site, originally founded by Henry V. With the palace and the King's grace came maids of honor, to care for the Queen, and they needed somewhere to live. That led to the creation of Maids of Honour Row, built 1724.
Number 4, Maids of Honour Row is a series of four terraced houses fronting Richmond Green, opposite the Public Library. The Green was intended to be an elaborate pleasure park, designed by Constantio de Servi, architect to the Medicis, but almost nothing of that design was actually built. The original building where the Row now stands was elaborate and had, among other amenities, a tennis court and gardens, but its fortunes ebbed and flowed with the monarchy, and by the 1700s it was clear the old wreck had to go. Its replacement, Maids of Honour Row, was designed and built by carpenter Thomas Honour, who clearly had an eye for a good pun.
Among the illustrious inhabitants of Maids of Honour were J.J. Heidegger, Master of Revels to the Court, and the author Charles Garvice.
Heidegger, a Swiss, came to London with very little and made a complete pig's breakfast of his first job, so he joined the Guards. From there he somehow moved to the Opera, where he became known for elaborate set-pieces. His fame increasing, he was hired by the Court to provide amusements as and when required. He had tremendous technical skill, and once lit 1800 candles in under three minutes, for the King's coronation, but is best remembered for his masquerades, and the illicit sexual thrills they offered.
Charles Garvice is, in the Bookhound's day, an exceptionally famous romance novelist. He had a setback early in his career that taught him a painful, but valuable, lesson: always write for the market. He did so enthusiastically, developing a familiar formulae: innocent young girl plus lascivious nobleman plus some melodrama involving missing jewels or irate parents, mix in solicitors and charming young titled male leads, and the money comes flowing in. Nobody's sure how many books he wrote, as he worked under several different names. He knew he wasn't going to go down in literary history, and he didn't care. Once, when a friend tried to make light of his writing, he pointed to a crowded beach and said, "They are all reading my latest work." They were. He died in 1920, leaving, net, something in the order of sixty seven thousand pounds, or the rough equivalent of $2.5 million in today's money. Most went to his wife, the remainder to his two sons, one of whom died in 1921 in Alexandria, Egypt, where he was Chief of Police. The other lived in Canada until his death in 1964.
All of which brings us to:
Glorious Romance
Hook: Would-be author Maurice Stowell has pestered the Bookhounds, among many, many others, for years now. He thinks he's an unacknowledged genius. So far, he's just unacknowledged. However his most recent manuscript, given to the Bookhounds for a read-through ("tell me what you think. Don't spare my feelings.") is very reminiscent of Charles Garvice's finest. Except it has an odd, Mythos tinge, particularly in the masquerade scene, presided over by the wicked Count Rochat, a conniving Swiss impresario with designs on the maiden, Cassilda. It's vaguely historical, except the setting is a Richmond Green nobody's ever seen before, complete with elaborate Italianate water gardens and a huge Neptune statue. The stone God has plot significance, as it moves about and, at one point, threatens the hero's life. It's … interesting, but those with Mythos knowledge can pick out sinister influences, particularly from that dreaded text. the King in Yellow. Masked balls, elaborate royal palaces, a terrifying Nemesis figure - where did Maurice get his inspiration?
Maurice Stowell: Three things: always suffers from a cold, limp handshake, uncanny luck at games of chance. If he took more care over it, he'd be a very successful card shark, but what he really wants to be is a writer. Athletics 8, Scuffling 12, Health 6; he was a Rough Lad when he was younger, but that's a mug's game. "Oh dear, I can feel a migraine coming on. Pass me my pills, would you? I cannot function without Mortlake's Concentrated Liver Pills."
Awful Truth: Stowell paid a local cunning-woman, Dicey (Eurydice) Wollard, to help his writing by summoning up the ghost of Charles Garvice. Stowell wanted writing advice, but got more than he bargained for, and so did Dicey. She doesn't know whose spirit she's channeling. At first she didn't care, so long as the money kept rolling in. Now she's very worried she's in over her head, but she can't keep the spirit quiet. The dreams she's been having since this started have become more and more surreal, and lately Stowell's been joining her in Dreamland, wandering through some peculiar, alternate version of Richmond Green. In that version of Richmond Green is hidden a book, some sort of play, that the spirit controlling her and advising Stowell wants found. This spirit, the Count Roche in Stowell's book, won't take no for an answer, and is forcing the two of them to find the book, no matter the cost. Trouble is, there's things hiding in that dream version of Richmond Green that could easily prove fatal …
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