Review: Talk of the Town by Joan Smith (1979)

This was a total riot, good fun from start to finish. It’s very traditional in style, but given its age that’s only to be expected, and unlike some of that vintage, the romance was quite well developed and not bolted on as an afterthought. And there was not a single kidnapping or elopement or other overblown melodrama.

Here’s the premise: Daphne Ingleside lives a quiet, respectable life in the Wiltshire countryside, but when her disreputable Aunt Effie, now a widow for the second time after being scandalously divorced by her first husband, asks for her company in London, she sees an opportunity for a little fun and a somewhat more lively setting. But this isn’t the conventional Regency with balls and routs and the Marriage Mart. Aunt Effie is too poor and disreputable to be invited anywhere. Daphne doesn’t mind. London is exciting enough, and she doesn’t much care to be paraded around anyway. She’ll have a nice quiet time with her aunt, and find something to fill the time. Perhaps her aunt, with her long and unusual history, could write her memoirs?

And all of a sudden, Aunt Effie’s quiet, retired life becomes rather exciting. As soon as the notice appears in the newspaper that she’s writing her memoirs, old friends start appearing and pressing large sums of money into her hands. Some were people she loaned money to, who never paid it back, but some were vaguer about their reasons. Effie thinks they’re just being kind to an old friend, but Daphne realises at once that they all hope to keep their own names out of the book. She finds it all vastly amusing, and of course the money is a great help to Effie.

Into this entertaining situation comes the very unentertaining Richard, the Duke of St Felix, sent by his sister to keep her husband’s name out of the book. But he’s an arrogant so and so, and Daphne can’t resist crossing swords with him, winding him up thoroughly. He leaves believing they are hardened blackmailers, and becomes determined to best the sharp-tongued little termagant. Somehow, he finds reason after reason to return to Aunt Effie’s shabby little apartment to spar with Daphne, and somehow, little by little, Daphne and Effie are edged back into society again, to be befriended by Beau Brummell and the Prince of Wales, no less. Their success is assured… or so it would seem. But their position is precarious, and one slip could see them fall from grace again.

From then onwards, nothing quite goes as expected (at least, not as I expected, anyway). But the romance develops beautifully. It’s always problematic for an author who’s set up the two main characters to be at each other’s throats – enemies to lovers is surely the most difficult trope to pull off, because how can two people who hate each other so much ever end up in love? It defies credibility, yet Joan Smith manages it beautifully, without any trickery, as Daphne and Richard gradually come to realise how things are. Daphne is a little bit too eccentric at times, and perhaps too determined to defy convention just to spite her ‘enemy’, but Richard is steadfast and true, and quite determined to see Daphne and her disreputable aunt restored to society, come what may.

For those who dislike Americanisms, you might want to avoid this one, littered as it is with ‘gotten’ and ‘fall’ and others too numerous to mention, but I was enjoying myself too much to mind. It’s highly recommended for banter aficianados, though, for the spirited exchanges between the two protagonists are glorious. Joan Smith can be a bit variable, but I found this to be one of her more successful efforts. Five stars.