Occupation: Assistant to Florence Nightingale

Journal of Poppy Throckmorten ~ September 1839

β€œOkay” I said, knowing my mother loathed new words. Okay was the newest word I had learned during my stay in London and I said it with a touch of sass. It was such a fun expression, almost as delicious as dandy.

According to my mother, any expressions stemming from the β€œsewers of the City” rankled her for she fancied herself to be Mrs. Throckmorten, queen bee of Milton-on-the-Marsh, custodian of morals, manners, and grand protector of the English language. Okay was not okay with her.

Placing my hand over my mouth by way of an unmeant apology, I nodded my understanding of her command to take a chaperone with me and return before dark. Mama wasn’t pleased about my traveling to Lea Hurst, the Nightingale family estate as she restricted my visits with my dear friend Florence.

My mother had determined Miss Nightingale to be a bad influence on me. β€œThat girl is infested with radical, independent ideas. She’s gotten too big for her bonnet!” Mama would go off on a tirade, β€œMark my words, she will end up a miserable spinster!”

One hour earlier we had received an urgent message from Florence requesting I meet with her. It appeared my presence, along with my friend’s, would be required at Buckingham Palace. A personal invitation from Queen Victoria did not allow for shilly-shallying. There was little Mama could do to prevent me from going.

Granny fidgeted with her shawl, a sign she was eager to assume her duties as chaperone. Papa’s mother had more bounce than the India rubber ball weapon I carried in my pocketβ€”and she was twice as resilient.

Smitten with Lord Melbourne, Granny was keen to return to court and resume her one-sided flirtation with the Prime Minister who was young enough to be her son. I chose Granny to be chaperone as she was more mischievous that a barrel of elves and quite saucy to boot. The dear lady made a terrible guardian but a delightful companion.

β€œCome, Poppy! Let us be off,” Granny said. β€œWe must not keep Miss Nightingale waiting; it is best we remain on her good side as someday she will be famous.”

Mama cringed. It rankled her to admit that Granny was probably right. Miss Nightingale would someday be a name to reckon with.

My mother’s first reaction to my request for use of the carriage was a sharp absolutely not, as she took pleasure in being obstinate for no reason at all. Unknown to my female parent, I had been carefully observing how Florence dealt with her mama, and I had honed my mother management skills.

β€œNo matter!” I said, turning to leave the parlor. β€œI shall walk to the Nightingales’. It’s only three miles, and if I wear a shawl under my cloak the cold September rain won’t bother me a bit.” I turned to my grandmother. β€œBest put a cloak on over your shawl, Granny.”

Mother assumed an expression I was very familiar withβ€”a cross between a hostile hen and a forbearing fox as she acquiesced to my using the carriage. It was not for our protection from the elements that Mama relented and permitted me the use of the carriage; but rather she feared the humiliation of having her daughter seen trudging in the rain accompanied by the elderly Mrs. Throckmorten.

I was pleased with how I had managed to turn things around with a few well-placed words. Florence had taught me so very much since we first met as young girls. The carriage would whisk my rascal grandmother and me to the Nightingale estate. It was just a matter of a daughter knowing the correct mother-strings to pull. We were off on another adventure.

Giveaway: Three readers selected at random will receive a copy of The Giggling Corpse. Leave a comment below for your chance to win either Kindle/Nook e-book (open to everyone) or print (U.S. residents only), winner’s choice. The giveaway will end May 22, 2018. Good luck everyone!


You can read more about Poppy in The Giggling Corpse, the first book in the β€œFlorence Nightingale” mystery series.

A trailblazing figure in nursing, Florence Nightingale faces a series of bizarre mysteries for which she must use her nimble deductive powers while aided by her little pocket owl, Athena, and her sweet but snarky sidekick, Poppy Throckmorten.

In this first book in the series, the ladies journey to Greece on a mission for young Queen Victoria, the successful completion of which will fund the Nightingale School for Lady Nursesβ€”the first of its kind in England.

Armed only with her quick wit and a rock-hard India rubber ball, Poppy is determined to assist Florence in securing the donation. But before they can return to England, the gift is stolen and one member of their British contingent is deadβ€”was it murder? Can Florence and Poppy find a possible killer and recover the endowment before they must answer to the Queen? And what’s with the giggling corpse?

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Meet the author
Barbara Silkstone is the author of over forty novels and novellas.

Silkstone has traveled the world collecting adventures that range from accidentally skydiving to hanging off the side of a boat in the River Seine. Having broken enough bones to last a lifetime, she now lives in a quiet corner of Florida with her slightly overweight cat, who is Liam Neeson’s biggest fan.

Visit her at secondactcafe.com/barbara-silkstone and on her Amazon Author page.

All comments are welcomed.