The recent screening of “Downton Abbey” on US TV has created a storm on the blogs about entail, what it is and why. Reading the comments has proved deeply illuminating, about the way the entail is understood by an American audience. So I thought it might be a good time to try to explain a few things, about Downton and about the historical romances I’ve read recently. And why there were so many recent fails for me.

In British society, the state is all, and the individual is far less important. So the entail takes care of the need to keep the power invested in one place, rather than dissipated among lots of people, as would happen if the inheritance was divided amongst the living heirs. And it helps me to understand how mistakes are made and assumptions made in romance novels. Because romance novels are, by their nature, about individuals.

I don’t know about you, but when I read a book, I want the romance, not a detailed resume of society and forms. Therefore I’ve always held that when you can stick with the simplest way of doing things, then do it. When in doubt, concentrate on the romance. There are title purists who delight in discovering exceptions, and while people find them fascinating, they’re hard to explain in the context of a romance novel, while still giving space to the love story.

In my attempt (failed) to find a new historical romance author to glom and love last year, one of the biggest pitfalls was title usage. The inability to understand how the system worked, and consequently, how British society worked in the past was a big problem for me. Time and again I kept thinking “but it doesn’t work like that,” and so the whole story fell down, as a paper-thin construction of fluff and meringue.

There are lots of sites on title usage in detail, but what puts a lot of people off is the seeming complicatedness of it all. In essence, it’s not complicated, it’s really not, so I’ve tried to do something a bit different in this piece. I’ve put the “rules” with caveats underneath, for people who like the complicated stuff, and I’ve tried to explain some of the reasoning behind it and why it goes to the roots of society. So for writers, if you want to have exceptions to the rule, think about why and how it will impact on the rule.

Some of the worst examples aren’t the actual bending of the rules, they’re because the writer doesn’t understand the reasoning behind them.

And for purists – if you look hard enough, there’s often an exception. But I’d much, much rather an author got it right, than tried to bend the rules to suit the story, because they didn’t understand how the rules worked.

For readers, this is just a brief outline of the simple stuff.

1.     The oldest son gets everything, if he’s still alive when his father dies. He gets the lot. They did this to keep the estate intact. The estate (land, investments, possessions) was the basis of the power of a family, and the family went far beyond just the title holder. Tendrils stretched far and wide, but if the estate was dissipated, it diminished the power and influence for everybody. If there is no oldest son, they go back a generation. And then another, until they find an oldest son in the direct line. Always, almost without exception, it’s the men who inherit. Titles that descend in the female line need to be carefully studied and explained. There is entailed property, the stuff that is “stuck” to the title, and can’t be willed away, and there is the private fortune, that isn’t entailed. But if the title holder willed that away, he diminished the title, and so it wasn’t often done.

2.     No illegitimate child can inherit a title. He can be given one by the Crown in his own right, but he can’t inherit one. In the days before blood tests and DNA tests, the children of a marriage were considered the children of the husband of their mother, unless he explicitly repudiated them within a stated time frame (I think it was six months, but I’m not certain about that).

3.     Titles in order: duke, marquis or marquess, earl, viscount, baron. Baronets and knights of the realm aren’t members of the peerage, they’re commoners who hold honours.

4.     Royal titles are different. They run under different laws and are separate from titles of nobility. Just to confuse people a bit, a royal duke is different to a duke of the peerage. A royal duke ranks higher than a prince, which is why the title of duke is given preference (except for the Prince of Wales).

5.     Heirs presumptive can’t hold courtesy titles. An heir apparent will inherit the title as long as he doesn’t die before his father or grandfather. An heir presumptive will inherit the title if the title holder doesn’t produce an heir, and until the title holder dies, he is considered capable of doing that. So if the heir is the nephew, brother or even cousin of the current title holder, he’s the heir presumptive. A courtesy title is the one held by the heir apparent. So in “Downton Abbey,” the heir who dies on the Titanic and the one who arrives later in the first episode are both heirs presumptive. Usually the courtesy title is the next highest title held by the title holder in rank, though not always. So the son of the Duke of Devonshire holds the courtesy title Marquis of Hartington. A courtesy title isn’t one of nobility, so the holder can have a seat in the House of Commons, and is a commoner in law.

6. When a man is a “Sir,” he is always referred to by his first name. So Sir Harry Smith is always referred to as Sir Harry, never Sir Smith.

7. A title holder can’t resign his title. He can decide not to use it, he can pass the responsibility of the title over to other people (but in my eyes that doesn’t make for a very romantic hero), but he can’t resign it and leave it open for someone else. Once he is the Earl of Somewhere, he remains that until his death.

8. Foreign nationals can’t inherit titles. Once naturalisation became possible, heirs can choose to become naturalised British citizens in order to inherit a title. This goes double for American citizens, who are forbidden to take or use titles in the Constitution. They can receive honorary titles, but that’s it. If you think about it, that’s common sense. The title holder used to be one of the group of people loyal to the Crown. They were expected to defend their country against all comers, and recruit soldiers in the service of their King and country.

9. There is no formal investiture of a title. The title holder can enter Parliament, and will be received there in a formal ceremony. But that isn’t any kind of investiture.

10. Girls can’t inherit titles. I can hear the cries of “oh yes they can!” clear over the Atlantic. But I’d say that unless there is a real point to it, then best to avoid it. One title, the Dukedom of Marlborough, can descend through the female line, but only in the absence of a male heir, and only to get to a male. Some obscure Scottish baronies break this rule, too. But if you don’t need it, don’t use it. The principle of keeping the estate strong and intact is dissipated if a female (who could well marry someone from a different powerful family) inherits.

11. Titles of address are known by all. When the point of view of the story is a daughter of the aristocracy or a title holder, they would know these rules. Until the Victorian era, they weren’t written down in a book of etiquette, they were just known. So calling the daughter of a baron “lady” someone or other, if she wasn’t married to someone entitled to use “lord,” is just wrong, and will jerk the reader out of the story. The daughters of dukes, marquesses and earls are allowed to use the courtesy title of “Lady.” All the others, ie viscounts and barons, are “the honourable Miss” someone or other. “honourable” is never used except in formal correspondence. When I was a student, I shared a house with the daughter of a viscount. I had no idea until I saw a letter addressed to “the honourable.” Sons of dukes and marquesses may use the title “lord.” All the others are Honorables, and are addressed as “Mr. Surname.” They are courtesy titles.

12. You don’t have to have a title in order to be important. Some of the most important men of the Georgian era didn’t have titles. “Diamond” Pitt was enormously wealthy, but he was a merchant, and his descendants, Pitt the Elder and Pitt the Younger, either didn’t hold titles or were awarded them later on. It didn’t matter. Robert Walpole was knighted and later received a barony, but that wasn’t the basis of his power or influence. Queen Charlotte, the wife of George III had to borrow diamonds from City merchants in order to make a good enough splash at her husband’s coronation. They went back afterwards. Some earls had greater influence and more wealth than dukes. So please, please, think beyond the duke. In the Regency era, there were only 25 dukes, anyway.

Yes, there are exceptions. But I still hold that the romance is the thing, so if in doubt, stick to the obvious and simple rules that everyone understands. The other thing is that these rules only hold until around the First World War. After that, everything started to change. Peers no longer have an automatic place in the House of Lords. They can ‘resign’ their titles for their lifetime. And the whole of the power structure of society changed, from landed families to industrial. The real peers of today, the people with power and influence are the heads of the big conglomerates and the untitled politicians.

As a rule of thumb, I look for real life examples. So, for instance, there weren’t any aristocratic pirates, ie nobody holding a valid British title ever took to the High Seas.

No woman ever moved from being a famous courtesan to marry a peer of the realm and become a leader of polite society. Peers married prostitutes, but they had to live in seclusion, and the marriage had serious consequences to the title and to the descendants (and yes, I know I wrote one in “A Chance To Dream” but I worked hard to make it plausible, and the heroine had to make a lot of sacrifices to attain her dream – it’s an exception thing!)

If you want to read more, or you want to find out about the exceptions and the difficulties, go to Debrett’s or Burke’s. Laura does a great job at explaining Regency usage and titles, too.

A personal plea to authors and publishers of the genre. Please think about creating a “historical fantasy” line. That would be fun. Based on the rules, but with extras and exceptions. Places where young ladies can prance about in public unchaperoned, where the peerage consists of young and handsome dukes, where the fundamental principles are based more on American society than British. What puts me off about picking up a historical, is that they’re not. If it was labelled Fantasy, I’d be able to pick it up and enjoy it. If you want to write a historical, please care enough to do plenty of research. Enjoy the research, embrace it.

And isn’t Downton Abbey totally awesome? It gets better, and much, much funnier, although you’ll hate yourself for laughing. Julian Fellowes is a bloody genius.