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eBook Category: Historical Fiction/Romance
eBook Description: The cruelty and aftermath of Monmouth's rebellion left havoc in the wake of many a noble's life and family. For Helena Woulfe, the daughter of a wealthy Exeter nobleman, the complete destruction of her previous privileged life became her reality. Shunned by society because of her rebel father and brother after the bloody defeat in the battle of Sedgemoor, Helena leaves behind her destitute family. Somewhere amid the devastation is her father and brother and she is determined to find them and bring them home. But while she is away, misfortune once again strikes her family. Soldiers enter her home to arrest her traitor father. When he cannot be located, they tear the family home apart and confiscate it on behalf of the crown. During the ransacking, her mother loses her life. Helena and her younger brother, Henry, flees to the safety of a family who are willing to give them shelter, but as danger draws ever closer, Helena and Henry depart for London where it is easier to hide among the large crowds. Labelled as a traitor's daughter, Helena does her best to restore her life, but her family's reputation continues to haunt her as King James wants revenge on all who opposed him. Through all the death and destruction of her life, Helena finally meets Guy, a young man who offers her love and security and hope to restore her respectability. Anita Davison has skilfully brought to life the realities of this brutal time in England's history. Well researched, the novel evokes strong emotion pertaining to the rebellion and the state of the country afterwards. I enjoyed the perseverance and strength of the characters, especially that of Helena. A tremendous novel that accurately depicts the era.

eBook Publisher: Grace Publishing, Published: 2007, 2007
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2007

4 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [342 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [316 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [302 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [915 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [343 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [270 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [333 KB] , hiebook (KML) [718 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [394 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [281 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [351 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [391 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [453 KB]
Words: 99905
Reading time: 285-399 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 9780973950274

"I was drawn into this fascinating story describing the life of Helena. She loses everything and finds herself fearing for her very life and that of her loved ones. Her life changes quickly and she finds herself growing up almost overnight. In the end she is a different person with different values. The things that once mattered are no longer important, and all she wants is to once again feel safe. Helena is an amazing character. She has an inner strength that is not expected. She finds her life of wealth gone, and with it, her girlish dreams. I respected the way she tried to take care of her family, but it truly saddened me to think that after everything, she was willing to give up her happiness to feel safe. DUKING DAYS-REBELLION is a story that demonstrates the terrible affects of a war. The sense of fear is strong throughout the story. Many horrible acts of bloody violence and hatred are described, painting a vivid picture of conditions at the time. Although it seems rather slow paced at times the story is quite memorable. I found myself learning a little about history that I never knew before. In the end I was left thinking about how easily life, as you know it, can be taken from you. In this way I came to better understand Helena. DUKING DAYS-REBELLION by Anita Davison is a powerful story that gives insight into this particular time in English history and is recommended especially to those readers that enjoy historical books. Astounding Debut Author."--Romance Junkies

"I've always hated reading about English history... found it dry and boring, UNTIL, I discovered Duking Days. New author, Anita Davison, has such a flare with descriptions and emotions that you'll find yourself pulled into the story and won't want to leave until the book ends... then you'll be upset that it's over. The good news? She's working on a sequel so you'll again get to meet her entertaining characters, share jolly old England through her eyes and words, and, I promise, you'll love it. She's on my keeper shelf and I'm sure she'll end up on yours, too.--Ginger Simpson, Author

CHAPTER ONE

Exeter, June 1685

Helena clung to the hanging strap of the Woulfe family carriage as it clattered down the hill and turned onto Northgate Street, two haughty footmen clinging to the rear. This would be the first time they had gone to church without their father, Sir Jonathan and their brother Aaron. Her heart twisted and she sent up a silent prayer that, wherever they were, they, and Uncle Edmund were safe.

She looked up and met Bayle's gaze, too anxious to return his smile. Nathan Bayle, body servant to Sir Jonathan, had been part of Helena's life forever. 'Ask Bayle.' was the watchword at Loxsbeare Manor. House servants and estate staff alike called him Master Bayle, whether in earshot or not. To the family he was Bayle. Only her father ever called him Nathan.

A broad shouldered man, he kept his wavy brown hair slicked back from a high, flat forehead over expressive brown eyes. Despite his imposing size, he was a non-threatening figure with a calm expression. Occupying the majority of the seat opposite, he dwarfed her younger brother Henry, who would have surely fidgeted more had there been room for him to do so.

The smells of hot leather and horses, sun-baked grass and starched linen assailing her senses within the confined space made Helena queasy as iron-clad wheels bumped over the cobbles in Arches Lane.

Beside her, Lady Elizabeth sat staunchly upright, her delicate features turned to the window. Helena couldn't see her face, but sensed her unease as she watched her fiddle with a lace lappet falling from her headdress; tugging at it with nervous fingers.

Exeter sported few private carriages, so as they rolled to a halt outside St Mary Arches Church, the knot of curious onlookers gathered to watch the Woulfes handed down at the lytch gate was not a cause for concern.

Helena bowed in greeting to several acquaintances at the church door; others looked away as they took their usual pew in the cool and lofty interior. She stared straight ahead, ignoring the curious eyes boring into her back and the low mutterings echoing from adjacent pews.

Let them whisper and gossip; she was proud the men in her family had stood up for their principles and were willing to die for them.

Master Triske, a thin, humorless man, completed his self-indulgent sermon. Under the eye of the magistrate in the front pew, and with some reluctance, Helena thought, the minister announced the Duke of Monmouth's declaration, made a few days before from Taunton market place.

After several nervous starts, he informed them Monmouth claimed to be the rightful king and that James the Second had murdered his father, King Charles.

Helena went rigid with shock as murmurs of dismay rippled round the congregation. Beside her, Henry murmured, "Father said Monmouth did not seek the throne."

"Hush!" Helena nudged him, her gaze on their mother, who stared stonily ahead, a spot of color developing on each cheek.

With an undertone of warning, the minister recited King James' pronouncement that his nephew and all his 'adherents, abettors and advisers' were traitors and rebels.

Helena felt warmth creep into her face. Traitor? How dare this insipid cleric call Sir Jonathan Woulfe such a thing? Rebel indeed! Didn't he realize he was trying to protect the very church where Triske condemned his loyalty? "If the king had his way, you, Master Triske, would be chanting in Latin," she murmured under her breath.

Her self-righteous anger sustained her through the rest of the service, when Lady Elizabeth gathered her and Henry in her wake to glide regally down the aisle, watched by their erstwhile friends and acquaintances.

Helena stayed close to her mother's skirts like a child, eager to be away from what she felt were disparaging murmurs and hard looks. A friend of Henry's started forward, most likely to offer his greetings, but a male hand clamped down on the boy's shoulder and after a murmured exchange, he was guided away. Helena narrowed her eyes, angry for Henry, who had harmed no one. Was this what they were to expect from a community who had always held the Woulfes in high regard?

She turned away, telling herself they would feel differently about their son associating with her brother once the Duke of Monmouth was in Whitehall.

"No one trusts Catholic James," her Uncle Edmund once told her. She hoped it was true.

Lady Elizabeth exchanged polite greetings with the minister at the church door, but did not pause to chatter with friends as was her usual custom. Instead, she walked rapidly down the path toward their coach, past a glowering Lord Miles Blanden and his wife.

The Blandens owned an ancient manor at the top of St David's Hill; richer than the Woulfes, but according to her father, the respect of the city's citizens so far eluded them. Helena practically shared a nursery with their son, Martyn, and when she reached seventeen, they were betrothed. Helena liked him well enough, but she had been disappointed; expecting to feel something quite different for the man destined to be her husband.

Helena's father granted her a generous portion, commensurate with the Woulfe name, and dazzled by his generosity, she had moved through a haze of over indulgence, exhilarated to be the center of so much attention.

Despite the heat of the churchyard, Helena shivered at the memory of that morning last December, when Martyn fell ill during a visit to Loxsbeare. His manservant half-carried him, in obvious pain, to his horse and bore him away before Helena could bid a proper farewell. Her enquiries as to his well-being were deflected with vague responses, and two days later, a messenger rode over from Blanden Manor to tell them Martyn was dead.

Helena feigned her tears; her overwhelming emotion at the time being relief. Even Lord Blandon had appeared more frustrated than grief stricken, making Helena wonder if he had instigated their betrothal so he could bathe in the reflected glory of the Woulfes' reputation.

She offered them a perfunctory curtsey, but kept her face expressionless; conscious of their eyes boring into her back as Bayle helped her up the step into the carriage.

"What do you suppose he wants?" Henry nodded to the black-garbed city magistrate, who strode grim-faced down the path in their direction. The man raised a hand to attract their attention, but the carriage already lurched towards the North Gate, leaving him standing in the middle of the road, frowning.

"His duty can wait a little longer," Bayle muttered.