Format: Paperback, 368 pages
Release Date: May 9, 2023
Publisher: Ace
Source: Publisher
Genre: Fantasy / Historical
Revolution is a bloodthirsty business . . . especially when vampires are involved.
It
is 1793 and the French Revolution is in full swing. Vampires—usually
rich and aristocratic—have slaked the guillotine’s thirst in large
numbers. The mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel, a disguised British noble,
and his League are heroically rescuing dozens of aristocrats from
execution, both human and vampire. And soon they will have an ace up
their sleeve: Eleanor Dalton.
Eleanor is working as a housemaid
on the estate of a vampire Baroness. Her highest aspiration is to one
day become a modiste. But when the Baroness hosts a mysterious noble and
his wife, they tell Eleanor she is the spitting image of a French
aristocrat, and they convince her to journey to France to aid them in a
daring scheme. Soon, Eleanor finds herself in Paris, swept up in magic
and intrigue—and chaos—beyond her wildest dreams. But there’s more to
fear than ardent Revolutionaries. For Eleanor stumbles across a
centuries-old war between vampires and their fiercest enemy. And they’re
out for blood. . . .
Scarlet is the first book in a wildly
engaging new series from Genevieve Cogman, which reinvents the beloved
tale of the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Genevieve Cogman's Scarlet is the first installment in a new series based on the Scarlet Pimpernel written by Baroness Orczy. It shares the story of an Englishman who rescued men, women and children during the Reign of Terror. The story itself is filled with historical settings, supernatural creatures (vampires), romantic
entanglements, and heart-pounding secrets. The year is 1793, the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror is in full
swing.
Vampires have staked and sent to the
guillotine’s thirst in large numbers thanks to the Committee of Public Safety and a man called Chauvelin. Chauvelin was a despicable man who relied on fear and violence to
accomplish his goals, much like the French Revolution and the Reign of
Terror does. The mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel, a
disguised British noble named Sir Percy aka Chief, and his League are heroically rescuing dozens
of aristocrats from execution, both human and vampire.
Eleanor Dalton is working as a housemaid
on the estate of a vampire Baroness, Lady Sophie. Eleanor has aspirations of working for a dressmaker in London. But when the Baroness hosts a mysterious noble and
his wife, Lord & Lady Blakeney, they tell Eleanor she is the spitting image of a French
aristocrat. Although younger, Eleanor bears a very strong resemblance to
Queen Marie Antoinette, who has been arrested and faces the guillotine. Eleanor is persuaded to help a covert rescue
attempt.
She must leave the safety of England and travel to France along with 4 others members of the Scarlet Pimpernel. If Eleanor and the Scarlet are successful, she may make enough money to make that dream a reality. On
this mission, she faces snobbery, self doubt and some vampires who
aren’t as kind as her mistress – as well as learning why the revolution
has started. Soon, Eleanor finds herself in Paris, swept up in magic
and intrigue—and chaos—beyond her wildest dreams.
But there’s more to
fear than ardent Revolutionaries. For Eleanor stumbles across a
centuries-old war between vampires and their fiercest enemy. And they’re
out for blood. When Eleanor is separated from her party after they are ambushed on the way to Paris, something happens and I am curious to see how this thread progresses. I fail to see the point of revealing a major spoiler as it makes for more fun to see how the authors plays this new part of Eleanor in future novels.
There was a small romantic aspect between
Eleanor & one of the other characters, but it wasn't a major plot
point & didn't really detract from the story. Eleanor was a really compelling character, well developed
and likeable protagonist. She
is a little naive at first but, her emotional development as she grows
in confidence and learns to trust her own instincts was really
phenomenally done.
Cogman is the author of one of my favorite series (The Invisible Library) so of course I had to see if she could keep up her magical world building, and characters like Irene who I came to adore. If you truly pay attention, you will notice that the author has included little cameos that you will likely find in the original story.
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"You mean they don't even wear no trousers?" Sarah asked, shocked.
"They don't wear any breeches," Melanie corrected her. "All the
aristos-that's what they call the nobs over there when they're being
rude about it-called the ordinary people sans-culottes because of how
they weren't wearing nice knee-breeches. But frilly clothes don't do
them much good now they're all getting their heads cut off. Ain't-isn't
that so, Nellie?"
Eleanor didn't look up from drying the china.
Slacking at one's job in the Baroness of Basing's household was a bad
idea, even among her fellow servants in the kitchen downstairs. She'd
spent enough time working her way up to an indoors maid position, and
the possibility of serving as an actual lady's maid was almost within
her grasp. She wasn't going to ruin her chances now.
"That's
pretty much it," she agreed, picking up another fancy plate, one of the
set with pink designs and gilt edging. "Though the papers say the
citizens are all in rags mostly anyhow, except for the ones in their
Assembly."
"It tears my heart," Mrs. Dommings said, kneading the
dough with powerful hands, "to hear you talking about what they're all
wearing and not about what those evil Frenchies are doing. A nation what
kills their own king is cursed by God and man alike." She punched the
dough again. "If it weren't for that heroic Scarlet Pimpernel saving the
poor persecuted nobility from the guillotine, hundreds more of them'd
be dead. Dead for good, if you count the vampire ones. I don't know how
he does it."
Eleanor and Melanie rolled their eyes at each
other, suppressing sighs. Mrs. Dommings was the world's worst bore when
she got onto the subject of the mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel and how he
rescued innocent aristocrats from having their heads cut off. What was
the point of discussing the man when the only thing anyone knew about
him was that he was mysterious? Even rescued French aristocrats knew
nothing about him-or claimed to know nothing.
Sarah began to
peel carrots for the servants' supper. She and Melanie were part of the
mansion's day service; the night service would come on duty later. Lady
Sophie rarely ate . . . regular meals, but servants needed sustenance,
like any other human. Still, when you had a vampire for your mistress,
you worked by night and you didn't complain. "I wish we didn't have to
learn French. It doesn't make no . . ." She paused and corrected her
grammar at a glare from Mrs. Dommings. "That is, it doesn't make any
sense."
"The Baroness likes having the household able to speak
French for when she has French visitors," Eleanor said, conscious of her
position as the senior maid of the three. "Besides, with all the
aristocrats leaving France, maybe we'll end up working for one of them."
More importantly, if one couldn't speak French, then one had no hope of
rising in the household to work abovestairs. Eleanor had no intention
of spending her entire life in the kitchen.
"That's a proper
attitude, Nellie," Mrs. Dommings said. "Not that her ladyship ever likes
to have staff leave, but who knows? We all said that what happened in
France couldn't happen, and it did. Just goes to show. Their king dead,
their poor queen and prince and all their friends prisoners. Shocking."
Eleanor nodded and kept a tight grip on her thoughts. I just need to
keep working. If I can learn French like her ladyship wants, if I can be
good enough at embroidery, good enough at serving, then perhaps someday
I can get out of this kitchen . . .
Her ladyship the Baroness
of Basing might be a good mistress-but it was true that she didn't like
staff to leave. And Eleanor wanted more than life in Basing. A lady's
maid might travel to London with her ladyship, and might even be able to
find a situation there with one of her ladyship's friends or-in
Eleanor's wildest dreams-employment as a modiste and embroiderer. Nobody
could accuse her ladyship of not having friends, both living and
vampire. There were two of them visiting at this very moment, and the
gentleman was definitely wearing breeches. Embroidered satin ones too.
"How're you getting along with young William, Nellie?" Mrs. Dommings
asked. She tried to make it sound casual, but her beady eyes were sharp
and alert. "Haven't heard much from you about him lately."
"Haven't been seeing him much lately, miss," Eleanor said.
"Well, you know what her ladyship says," Mrs. Dommings pressed. "It's better to marry than to burn."
"That may be so, but it wasn't me who was burning," Eleanor said. She
put down the last of the dishes, aware of Melanie and Sarah trading
glances and suppressing sniggers. She wished she could direct the
conversation back to the mysterious Pimpernel. "Honest, miss, he was the
one as did all the running, and I've been doing nothing but telling him
no."
"That's as may be, but no man ever went running after a
woman without her leading him on," Mrs. Dommings said firmly. "If it
wasn't for your mother being so far away in her ladyship's country
estate, I'm sure that his mother would already have been talking to
her."
A chill ran down Eleanor's spine. She'd thought that she'd
been clear with William the last time they spoke. All it had been was a
couple of strolls together. He wasn't a bad man-but if their parents,
or worse, her ladyship, wanted them married, then she wouldn't have a
choice. She was already twenty-two. A lot of the maids were married by
that age. The walls of the old house seemed to close around her like the
sides of a tomb.
Of course she could say no; marriage in church
needed both man and wife to say yes to the vicar, after all. But her
life wouldn't be worth living, with her mother against her, all the
older servants saying she'd led him on, her ladyship frowning on her
behavior-small chance of Eleanor ever getting a higher position or going
to London if that happened. It was easy for people to say you just had
to stand up for yourself, but harder actually to do it when you had to
live with the consequences. Maybe rich ladies could write pamphlets
about the rights of women-but Eleanor would lay money they didn't have
to spend their time cleaning the grates, drying the dishes or peeling
the carrots . . .
Her black mood was broken by the creak of the
kitchen door swinging open. She hastily grabbed for the final plate to
give it an unnecessary polish, not wanting to look idle, before glancing
over to see who it was.
Mr. Barker, the butler, surveyed the
kitchen like a general looking over his regiment of soldiers, thumbs
lodged in his waistcoat pockets. His nose was red; he must have been at
the gin again and still thinking nobody noticed. "Her ladyship has
called for wine, ratafia and biscuits for her guests," he announced,
"and the usual for herself."
"It's your turn, Sarah," Melanie
said, her tone somewhere between glee and malice. "Go fetch the lancet
and cup. I showed you where they were."
White around the lips,
Sarah scuttled over to the cupboard which held her ladyship's private
cups. Eleanor didn't really want to watch, but there was a perverse
fascination to the whole process. Charitably she fetched a clean linen
rag as Sarah quickly cleaned the long, thin knife with water from the
boiling kettle on the hob. The new maid might still be coming to terms
with French and proper grammar, but she'd grasped this part of her job
fast enough. After all, her ladyship was a vampire-and vampires needed
more than biscuits to sustain themselves.
"Get a move on," Mr.
Barker scolded. "Do you think she's going to wait all day? And you,
Nellie, mind that you don't get any of the blood on your clothing.
You'll be taking it up to her."
"Me, sir?" Eleanor was
delighted-this was a chance to prove she could manage the work-but also
surprised. Waiting on her ladyship with guests present was usually
reserved for the upper housemaids and servants. Despite her best
efforts, she'd never yet been granted the opportunity.
"Her
ladyship asked for you specially," Mr. Barker said. He patted her on the
shoulder in an avuncular way. "Now don't get panicky, girl. Just
remember your lessons and your manners and you'll do perfectly well. The
drinks are on a tray outside in the corridor-I've set the glasses
ready. All you need to do is put the tray down on the table, make your
curtsey and leave."
"Yes, sir," Eleanor said, already imagining all the things that could go wrong.
Sarah gasped as the lancet went into her vein. She gritted her teeth as
the blood trickled out into one of the little glass cups that the
Baroness liked to use.
"That's it, dearie," Mrs. Dommings said
gently. She always turned motherly when she was supervising the girls
letting blood-probably because she never got asked for it anymore,
Melanie once said spitefully. Her ladyship preferred the younger girls.
"That's right. Now put the knife down and make sure you bandage yourself
properly."
Mr. Barker turned Eleanor around to inspect her.
Eleanor was frantically grateful she was wearing her better gown today-a
nice gray-blue muslin with a clean white collar. Her white apron was
still spotless, despite the summer heat and the kitchen work, and her
hair-pale blonde which refused to turn golden, however many times she
washed it with chamomile-was neat and tidy. "Yes," he said. "You'll do.
Have you got the biscuits ready, Melanie?"
"All ready, sir." Melanie's tone was deferential, but the glance she shot at Eleanor was pure jealousy. "Here they are."
Eleanor collected the plate of biscuits, the side plates, and the cup of blood. "Is there anything else, sir?"
"That's all of it," Mr. Barker said. "Now get a move on-it's been five minutes since her ladyship rang."
Eleanor hurried up the stairs, halting in the servant's corridor to
arrange the refreshments on the tray. It also gave her an opportunity to
overhear the remaining conversation in the kitchen.
"I don't
see why she got asked," Mrs. Dommings snapped. "It's not like Nellie has
talent for anything other than sewing. Why not Jill or Susan?"
"Her ladyship asked for her specially," Mr. Barker said in a tone which
shut down the conversation. "And I'm not going to argue with her
ladyship. Are you?"
Her ladyship was in the front lounge
with her guests; that was where she always received visitors in the
afternoon. Eleanor paused outside the room to put down her tray and
check that her hands were clean. It was a pity that there weren’t any
mirrors around, as there would be in houses owned by people who
were-well, alive-but one got used to it.
Eleanor took a deep
breath to steady her nerves. Her mind was unhelpfully supplying images
of all the things she might do wrong. She might trip over the carpet the
moment she entered the room. She might spill the ratafia and biscuits
all over the guests-or worse, the blood all over her ladyship. She might
say something she shouldn't. She might not say something she should.
She might slip on a rug, slide all the way across the floor, crash into
the windows, tear down the curtains and break the glass. And any of
those furnishings were worth more than a year of her salary.
A
bray of inane male laughter burst from the room, audible in the corridor
and probably in the next few rooms as well. It gave Eleanor a sort of
courage; she might be just a maid in this household, but at least she
wasn't stupid. Pulling herself together, she walked in.
Light
fell across half the room from those windows which had their curtains
open, so that the guests sat in a burst of sunlight. However, her
ladyship was shielded from the brightest rays with heavy velvet drapes.
Vampires might be able to walk in the sunlight, but they didn't like it.
As her ladyship caught sight of Eleanor, she gestured for the maid to
come forward with the tray of refreshments. Her ladyship's hair was
heavily powdered-no changes in fashion for her-and her skin was just as
spotlessly pale, like cream. She wore light gray and lavender silks, her
wide skirt spreading out in a sea of complex embroidery, and her face
was so perfectly serene that one would never imagine she couldn't use a
mirror to paint it in the morning.
The two guests, by contrast,
wore the height of current fashion, and both were living, breathing
humans. The man was tall-no, positively gigantic, Eleanor decided, at
least six foot-with gleaming blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, but a
stupefied look of vagueness which spoiled the otherwise polished effect.
His cream silk coat and breeches were as expensively cut as her
ladyship's own clothes, and embroidered with an elegance which made
Eleanor wish she could examine it more closely. He lounged in his chair,
apparently never having been told that it was polite to sit up
straight.
The woman with him was very modern, with her hair
barely powdered. Its natural red-gold glowed in the sunlight in a way
that made Eleanor burn with envy. She was wearing the latest style of
dress: a high-waisted flowing muslin frock and silk sash in the same
shade of cream as the man, with not a single pannier to bulk out her
skirt. She laughed in response to something, and the man-her
husband?-smiled at her.
Eleanor desperately ran through the
rules of etiquette in her head. Guests first, then her ladyship. She
bobbed a curtsey to the man and offered the tray.
He looked up
at her with a lazy smile as his hand closed round one of the glasses-and
then his face froze, the smile slipping off it like butter from a hot
plate. His eyes narrowed with sudden, sharp intelligence. But seconds
later that focus was gone, and he was blinking vaguely again, ferrying
glasses and decanters from the tray to the side table. "Deuce take it,
my dear Sophie," he said to her ladyship, "you might have warned us!"
His female companion followed his gaze, and her eyes widened.
"Pardieu!" she exclaimed, in a distinctly French accent. "She's the
spitting image. Who would believe it?"
