An interview with Erin Langston

I loved Langston’s novel, Forever Your Rogue. After reading it, I really wanted to know HOW she’d written this superb historical novel. I’m thrilled she agreed to answer my questions.


Dabney: This is your first novel, right? What made you want to write a historical romance?

Erin: Historical romance has always appealed to me as a reader because it gave me a gateway to explore the big, messy business of life and love through an escapist lens. There are many aspects of our modern world that are recognizable in historical romance, but still enough differences that it feels like I’ve really stepped away from my life and gone somewhere new. I always thought if I ever wrote a novel, it would be a historical romance precisely because of that feeling of accessible fantasy. And there’s nothing quite like the swoon factor of a good histrom. These heroes can pull some great moves!

As for actually deciding to write said novel…that was a decision largely driven by my own children. For a long time, I resisted writing–I just didn’t think I’d ever have the nerve to see it through. But I had characters and themes that really spoke to me and it gradually became apparent that it might be worth exploring them. And I wanted to be a good role model for my kids. I tell them all the time their dreams should be as big as possible and they don’t have to pigeonhole themselves into becoming only one thing. So why should I? It was time to practice what I preached and actually go after something I was increasingly, deeply passionate about.

As you know, I loved this book in no small part because of the fascinating–and horrifying–things in it I learned about coverture and parental rights laws in early 19th century England. Tell me how you became interested in that topic.

Forever Your Rogue is the story of Cora, a young mother, who is finally released from her loveless marriage when her unfeeling husband dies. She wants nothing more than to start fresh with Leo and Tess, her small son and daughter. But to her horror, her blissful freedom is short-lived: it turns out her husband’s will has named his own relatives as the children’s guardians, leaving Cora with only tenuous claims to her children. Cora isn’t about to go down without a fight. She concocts a plan to overturn the will and secure custody rights (…all while falling in love with Nate Travers, the rogue she’s roped into helping her).

Above all, this was a character-driven story. Cora, my heroine, came to me before anything else. I had a clear understanding of her as a young widow and mother: perpetually trying to be enough for everyone else, caught between her disappointed loneliness and her fierce love for her children. Once I had her, Nate easily took shape–he would be Cora’s counterpart and her partner, taking her burdens and replacing them with hope. But even with characters I loved, I still felt lackluster about writing my story. I couldn’t get it off the ground. I didn’t understand what these characters were working for, what they were working against. It was difficult to identify stakes that felt authentic and meaningful enough to really tap into what I wanted to say about both romantic and familial love.

When I first read the early 19th century legal case I described in my author’s note (of a woman fighting for custody of her daughter only to be told that her estranged husband alone had rights to their baby), it cracked my story and my heart wide open. I became gripped by this gut-wrenching scenario and I started researching more about English custody law. I was already familiar with coverture, a legal doctrine that stated a married woman had no legal identity–a husband and wife were considered one person, and all of a woman’s legal rights were subsumed by her husband. But I hadn’t fully appreciated that coverture extended into guardianship: the father was the only person with a legal claim to a child, and the only person who could name a guardian for his child in the event of his death. So what options were left for mothers? For most women, going up against their husbands (or even their husband’s decrees) wasn’t a viable option. And yet…some of them still tried. I would have tried. And I knew Cora would try, too.

The reality of the historical situation regarding maternal rights was devastating, but there was also a beautiful sense of purpose and hope that felt deeply relatable to me. The more I read about custody and guardianship, the more I felt compelled to make this the center of my story. Fighting for her children were the highest possible stakes for both Cora and Nate. And they were very real, heartrending obstacles. I had the opportunity to rectify these past wrongs in my story: I could write a happy ending for Cora, in tribute to all those mothers who didn’t have much recourse.

Dabney: Cora, the heroine of your book, adores her children and spends as much time with them as possible. Was that the norm for upper class parents at the time?

Erin: I think the “norm” is a bit tricky to talk about, because I genuinely believe that family dynamics would have been as wildly variable and nuanced in 1819 as they are in 2023. But speaking in broad strokes, knowing what we do about early 19th century aristocratic households and societal roles and obligations, I think it can be said that it was unusual for a viscountess like Cora to be so hands-on with her young children. From what I read, it is clear that many ladies of her station would have employed a much larger nursery staff, and the children would likely have been kept to a schedule separate from their parents, spending most of their time with their nurses. It was apparently common practice for children to congregate with their parents in the evenings, before retiring to the nursery for supper, as well as some other times set aside to be with their mothers.

But in addition to reading, I also looked at artwork from the time period, and I saw a number of soft, domestic family scenes that seemed to showcase a deep sense of tenderness and intimacy, regardless of how much time families actually spent together. That was that sentiment I carried into my book. Cora might be different from the “ideal” aristocratic lady, but she acknowledges this. She’s playing on the floor, she’s making tarts with her son in the kitchens. She’s not “proper” in the ways she ought to be. But I wanted her relationship with her children to highlight who she is as a person–she loves deeply, but she’s also incredibly lonely. Cora doesn’t set out to flout convention…but convention didn’t serve her well. So she found a life that did.

It was admittedly a joy to write a partner for Cora who approached parenting in the same way she did. Again, Nate was much more involved with Tess and Leo than what was probably typical for upper class men at the time. While Nate and Cora have a healthy dose of opposites attract in their relationship, I love that they share an appreciation and vision for their family.

Dabney: When did the laws in England begin to respect the rights of the mother? What was the impetus for the change?

Erin: Even as far back as the 17th century, legal scholars and the courts acknowledged that a mother played an important role in her child’s life. But there was nevertheless an unwillingness to protect this relationship in a legal sense. There’s a passage in William Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England that I felt encapsulated this prevailing attitude so perfectly that I actually had my hero read it during one scene in my book: “[A] mother, as such, is entitled to no power, but only to reverence and respect.” (Nate was rightfully disgusted by this.)

Maternal rights were honored on some occasions–namely, when no other guardian existed or had been named by her husband. But as long as the father or his appointed guardian were in play, the mother could not successfully petition for custody of her children.

My book takes place in 1819, so I focused most of my research on the situation in the first quarter of the 19th century, and I’m not as well-versed in what came later. But I did discover that the tide started turning as the 19th century progressed. One factor was the (gradual) increase in divorce/separation, which meant more and more women were seeking custody of the dissolved union’s children. Probably the biggest shift occurred in 1839, when Caroline Norton, a woman kept from her three children by her former husband, petitioned Parliament directly. Norton ended up drafting the bill that became the Custody of Infants Act (1839). This act allowed the Court of Chancery to actively intervene and grant a mother custody of her young children (and access to her older children).

One really amazing thing Norton did was reframe the issue of custody to highlight and humanize a mother’s plight. Instead of referring to custody cases as De Manneville v. De Manneville, for example, she wrote about the dispute as “The Case of Mrs. De Manneville.” In doing so, she kept the focus on the women negatively impacted by these laws and was able to start changing public perception of parental rights.

Dabney: What was the most horrifying thing you learned while researching this book?

Significantly, I learned that a father’s absolute rights extended far beyond marriage–they extended from beyond the grave. It didn’t matter if a woman was widowed (like Cora is)–even if the father was out of the picture, a woman wasn’t automatically considered her children’s legal guardian. It was all down to whatever guardianship arrangement a father specified in his will, and the courts would uphold that will in almost all circumstances, unless the guardian in question was deemed unfit.

This included the father himself, by the way–the courts would intervene if a father misbehaved in a way harmful to a child’s upbringing (such as adultery or irreligiousness), but never on the grounds of a mother arguing that she had a claim to her own child. If it came down to a dispute between a mother and a father, the mother would lose nearly every time.

In fact, one of the sources I read stated that between 1804 and 1839, there were twelve cases brought before the court regarding the question of paternal forfeiture (that is, if a father should lose his rights). Seven cases were brought by mothers and five by other relatives. All of the third-party petitioners won their cases against the fathers, but only one mother won. The other six mothers lost their suits. It was fairly horrifying to learn that a man could lose his rights, but a woman couldn’t necessarily gain them.

Dabney: What was the most inspiring?

Erin: Without a doubt, the most inspiring aspect of this project has been the readers who have reached out to me, especially those that felt an affinity or kinship with Cora and Nate. I’ve been really moved by what people have shared with me about their own experiences with parenting, parenting with a partner, being a single parent, being a stepparent, and with being raised by a single parent or stepparent. It has underscored for me that while my book stemmed from research about a legal standard that (very fortunately) has changed, what hasn’t changed are the many difficult and beautiful complexities of parental and familial love. It’s been a humbling experience and a real honor to be able to explore these themes in my writing.

I think it’s also important to note that while this book was inspired by a difficult reality, the bottom line is that this is a love story. I was really taken by the opportunity to reshape the threat of a family torn asunder and instead make it about the joy of a family coming together.

Dabney: What is next for you?

Erin: I’ve spent the last couple of years researching, writing, and publishing this novel, which has been a wonderful experience, but it ultimately sapped time away from other parts of my life. So for the immediate future, I’m looking forward to taking some time to reset and redirect my energy back into my own family. I’m very much anticipating a summer that’s less tied to my laptop than the last one!

But in terms of writing, I do have ideas on the backburner. There are many wonderful characters in the Forever Your Rogue universe, and I’m enjoying daydreaming and freewriting about what story I want to tell next. I’ve learned by now to let my characters surprise me, so we’ll see what they come up with.

Dabney: Thank you for talking to me!

 

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