Charlotte Brontë understood the life of a governess. After being a teacher at the girl’s school she’d once attended, she later became a temporary governess for two young boys. The employment didn’t seem to suit her, and understandably so. If she stayed at her family home, her opportunities for pursuing her dream of writing were much better.  She chose the pen name of Currer Bell, forged ahead with her writing, and completed the novel Jane Eyre.
            Jane Eyre was one of the first historical romances I read, and when I picked up the novel, the only knowledge I had of the story was the book I held my hand. I had no idea what to expect.
            The early scenes of the book concerning Jane Eyre’s childhood were dismal to me, and I forged ahead only because I had nothing else to read at the time. The last third enthralled me, however. I did enjoy the love story with a dash of mystery, although even in my teen years, I wasn’t quite sure of the character of a married hero proposing to the heroine, especially after he’d kept his first wife hidden away. I recommended the book to my mother and she practically shuddered. She’d been forced to read it in high school and had reacted much the same to it as Miss Brontë did with her governess posts.
            Charlotte Brontë did have a romance near the end of her life. A man she didn’t love asked her to become his wife, and she did. Her affection for him flourished in the short time they were married, and I believe she was more adored by her dear Arthur than Jane ever was by Rochester.

           In writing The Runaway Governess, I wondered what my heroine’s chances of singing opera might have been had she truly lived in London in 1813.
            My research led me to discover Elizabeth Billington, who was performing in Naples in 1794—at the same time of a volcanic eruption—and that coincidence led some to suggest the natural disaster was a sign of heavenly displeasure with her. Yet, she was well-known enough to have been the subject of a James Gillray caricature, and possibly talented enough to have received three minutes of applause.
            Opera wasn’t only for the upper classes during the time of Mrs. Billington, but  was entertainment for the masses. When one opera venue discontinued its sale of half-price tickets, a riot erupted and the discounted prices were reinstated.
            The performances had the entertainment value of going to a movie today, only with the added attraction of socializing. The houses were lighted enough for people to play cards during a performance. If the action onstage didn’t keep the spectators attention, it was acceptable for them to converse, much like dinner theater todady.
            And many of the composers heard in the 19th century are familiar names for modern opera lovers.
            My heroine, Isabel, would have been twenty-four years old when Rossini’s Barber of Seville was first performed in London, and based on her interests, she would have been in the audience during at least one of the performances, if not for several of them. In 1814, one year after Isabel married, Mrs. Billington’s last performance would have been at Whitehall Chapel, and Isabel would have applauded her, maybe even for the full three minutes.
           

Photos from my backyard. Scroll down to see the bobcat photos taken on a different day.