Parting the Veil by Paulette Kennedy
AUTHOR’SNOTE
When an author goes through the strange alchemy that occurs between the first draft and a final, published work of fiction, several facets of inspiration come into play—some of them unusual and unexpected. The idea for Parting the Veil first manifested over two years ago, after I woke from a surreal dream of a fire-gutted Beaux Arts mansion. From there, it evolved into the gothic romantic thriller you have just read. But it all started with a house.
Havenwood Manor is the conduit for Eliza’s psyche, a symbol of grief, and a character in its own right. It was inspired by myriad grand Second Empire houses—some of them no longer in existence, like the Earl Wheeler mansion in Sharon, Pennsylvania, which is unfortunately now a parking lot. My amateur appreciation for the architecture of Richard Morris Hunt, the decadent artwork of Alphonse Mucha, Paul Berthon, and Georges Privat-Livemont, and the textiles of William Morris all helped enrich the atmosphere of the fin de siècle world Eliza lives in.
While Eliza herself is purely fictional, several real-life American heiresses who married into British and Continental aristocracy informed her characterization—chiefly Clara Ward, Consuelo Yznaga, and Jennie Jerome, Winston Churchill’s mother. Like Eliza, these wealthy young women crossed the Atlantic with trunks full of Worth gowns and the naïve hope of an adventurous new life. Unfortunately, their mothers’ ambitions were often greater than the desire for their daughters’ happiness, and these whirlwind marriages between strangers—little more than financial contracts—often culminated in lives spent in genteel poverty, unhappy marital relations, and societal ostracism. The Husband Hunters: American Heiresses Who Married into the British Aristocracy by Anne de Courcy, as well as Smithsonian Channel’s documentary series Million Dollar American Princesses, helped inform the experiences Eliza and Lydia would have likely had in England among the landed gentry. Anne Sebba’s American Jennie: The Remarkable Life of Lady Randolph Churchill was also indispensable during my research. Savvy readers will notice my homage to Jennie in Ada’s diary entries, where she is mentioned by name.
Though the titles and peerages mentioned within are mostly fictitious, Malcolm was very loosely based on Lord Randolph Churchill, who was charming but mercurial and high-strung, according to several accounts by his peers. Malcolm’s decline into paranoia and violence are completely my invention, although many sufferers of syphilis, who were often treated with strong doses of mercury and potassium iodide, descended into severe psychosis as their illness progressed. The cure was often as horrible as the disease. During my writing, I referred to Pox: Genius, Madness, and the Mysteries of Syphilis by Deborah Hayden as well as History, Sex and Syphilis by Tomasz F. Mroczkowski, MD.
Cheltenbridge, while fictional, could be any number of idyllic small towns along the River Avon, nestled within Hampshire’s wild and beautiful New Forest. I took artistic license with my descriptions of historical Southampton (I’m not sure if there was ever a carousel on the pier, or a hotel across from the Grand Theatre, for example). My descriptions of the long-demolished Grand are also conjecture based on limited images I gleaned from online sources. Sarah Bernhardt did indeed appear at the Grand for one night only, but I have taken liberty with the exact date of her performance. Furthermore, Rameau’s Castor et Pollux was not performed in the UK until 1930. Artistic license was also taken with weather and travel time/distances and train routes.
I consulted several books to inform my research on the rise of Victorian Spiritualism, mourning and funerary practices, and day-to-day life in the late nineteenth century, as well as the political and LGBTQ+ culture of the time. Among them: Between Women: Friendship, Desire, and Marriage in Victorian England by Sharon Marcus; Byron Farwell’s The Great Boer War; How to Be a Victorian by Ruth Goodman; Barbara Weisberg’s Talking to the Dead: Kate and Maggie Fox and the Rise of Spiritualism; and the very excellent Dirty Old London: The Victorian Fight against Filth by Lee Jackson. For Lydia’s knowledge of herbal medicine, hoodoo, and voodoo, I consulted Tayannah Lee McQuillar’s definitive guide, Rootwork: Using the Folk Magick of Black America for Love, Money, and Success, as well as Old Style Conjure: Hoodoo, Rootwork, and Folk Magic by Starr Casas. Romey Petite and Veronica V. were also very helpful in guiding me with Lydia’s multiracial heritage and characterization as well as the Louisiana Creole society in which she and Eliza lived.
In writing Eliza’s story, I wanted her arc to honestly convey the oft-conflicting emotions of grief, PTSD, and depression. As she does the hard psychological work of confronting the past—as symbolized by Havenwood Manor—she moves through guilt, denial, anger, melancholy, bargaining, and eventually . . . acceptance and self-love. The scientific advances of Carl Jung and his extraordinary grasp of human psychology and the cognitive/behavioral therapies that eventually resulted from his work are in no small way an influence on this novel and upon my own life, as well.
This novel includes subject matter such as domestic abuse, addiction, suicidal ideation, pregnancy/child loss, murder, mental illness, and implied incest and sexual abuse. If anything written within these pages creates a traumatic response, please reach out to someone who will listen without judgment. Just like Eliza, you are worthy of love and happiness. If you or someone you know is suffering from thoughts of self-harm, please call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) to speak to someone who will listen and help. You are not alone.