German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, who spent much time with German suffrage leaders, pondered in The Gay Science （1882）： “There is something quite … monstrous about the education of upper-class women … All the world is agreed that they are to be brought up as ignorant as possible of erotic matters, and that one has to imbue their souls with a profound sense of shame in such matters … They are supposed to have neither eyes nor ears, nor words, nor thoughts for this … And then to be hurled as by a gruesome lightning bolt, into reality and knowledge, by marriage—precisely by the man they love and esteem most! To catch love and shame in a contradiction and to be forced to experience at the same time delight, surrender, duty, pity, terror … Thus a psychic knot has been tied that may have no equal!”
It also exacerbated the power imbalance between men and women on a most personal level. Since contentions around female pleasure exist to this day, I made it a point in the story. I believe romance novels play their part in undoing this legacy.
On leaving a marriage
Divorcing in Victorian Britain was possible but not easy in 1880, especially if the instigator was a woman. An upper-class wife usually had the means to pay for it, but she also inflicted scandal upon herself, and simply living separate lives was not so simple: until 1883, the “abandoned” spouse could petition for a writ of restitution of conjugal rights, which obliged their partner, usually the wife, to return to the marital home. If the partner served with the writ refused, they were imprisoned until they changed their mind. While Hattie trusted Lucian not to revert to such measures, I felt it was crucial for her to feel free from any legal hold a man might have over her for once in her life, and to only relinquish this freedom at a point of her own choosing. The legal separation she proposed gave her that option.
Artistic license
While Trollope’s novel The Way We Live Now was published in 1875, the line cited in this novel is actually from his autobiography, which was published in 1883, three years after the events of this novel.
John Dewey published essays on aesthetics throughout the 1880s, but the full theories about art as experience as discussed by Hattie were printed after 1900.
“They look too lovely to be clever” was not uttered by Professor Ruskin, but his contemporary Professor Henry Sidgwick. He said it in reference to the first cohort of women students at one of the women’s colleges he had cofounded at Cambridge.
Acknowledgments
Half of this book was written during a pandemic that changed the world as we knew it. I more than ever relied on an amazing group of people to make it to The End, and I’m incredibly grateful for their generously given time, advice, cheer, and patience. In particular, I would like to thank:
Matthias, for stoically sharing me with all these people inside my head.
Bernie, Montse, and Kate, because that first draft wouldn’t have left the building without you.
The LMH squad: Paula （your “pedantic read” was invaluable） and Helen （your cheer is so appreciated）。
Dr. Alex Boyd, for his expert advice on Victorian photography and the ways of a Scotsman—find his brilliant photography of the Scottish Isles at alexboyd.co.uk.
My fabulous fellow authors Rachel van Dyken, Jennifer Probst, Lauren Layne, Amy Reichert, Emily Henry, Roshani Chokshi, Eva Leigh, Stephanie Thornton, Chanel Cleeton, Susan Dennard, Jodi Picoult, and the Lyonesses: for squeezing my work onto your towering TBR lists, your blurbs and shout-outs; you are as talented as you are kind.
Isabel Iba?ez, Christine Wells, and Kerri Maher—your critique reading was everything.
The Berkley team, especially Jessica Brock and Jessica Mangicaro, for always doing a brilliant job of bringing The League to readers.
Special thanks to my fantastic editor, Sarah Blumenstock, for always giving me the time and space I need to do my best; and to my agent, Kevan Lyon, who is both the fiercest as well as the most supportive agent I could wish for.