Murder in Postscript (A Lady of Letters Mystery, Band 1) - Softcover

Winters, Mary

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593548760 ISBN 13: 9780593548769

Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2023

Inhaltsangabe

When one of her readers asks for advice following a suspected murder, Victorian countess Amelia Amesbury, who secretly pens the popular Lady Agony column, has no choice but to investigate in this first book in a charming new historical mystery series.

Amelia Amesbury—widow, mother, and countess—has a secret. Amelia writes for a London penny paper, doling out advice on fashion, relationships, and manners under the pen name Lady Agony. But when a lady’s maid writes Amelia to ask for advice when she believes her mistress has been murdered—and then ends up a victim herself—Amelia is determined to solve the case.

With the help of her best friend and a handsome marquis, Amelia begins to piece together the puzzle, but as each new thread of inquiry ends with a different suspect, the investigation grows ever more daunting. From London’s docks and ballrooms to grand country houses, Amelia tracks a killer, putting her reputation—and her life—on the line.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Mary Winters is the author of the Lady Agony mystery series. A longtime reader of historical fiction and an author of two other mystery series, Mary set her latest work in Victorian England after being inspired by a trip to London. Since then, she’s been busily planning her next mystery—and another trip!

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Chapter 1

London, England

1860

Amelia Amesbury hated to admit it, but she was bored. Mind-­numbingly bored. She supposed this was what contentment felt like: a beautiful young charge, bless her heart, playing the pianoforte; a governess, prim and proper, turning pages; and three tiers of cakes to choose from in a tastefully papered drawing room. But if she was so content, why was she itching for the afternoon’s post?

She glanced at the portrait of her dead husband above the fireplace mantel. She could put the brunt of the blame on him, bless his heart, too. When they met, she had no idea who he was. He presented himself like any young man in Somerset, looking for a room at her family’s respected inn, the Feathered Nest. Well, not exactly any young man. His manners were a little too refined, as were his features: smooth skin, straight nose, good teeth. When he revealed he was an earl, after she’d accepted his proposal, she was surprised, yes, but assumed that’s how it was done. Wealthy aristocrats had to protect themselves and their fortunes. Like Lancelot, Edgar Amesbury had come in disguise, and the subterfuge hadn’t bothered her in the least. In fact, it added to the excitement.

Amelia set down her flowered teacup with a plunk, earning her a glance from the governess. Despite her last name, Amelia was no Amesbury. Yet here she was, now the widow of one of the wealthiest families in London, with a country manor in Cornwall besides, responsible for the upbringing of Edgar’s niece, Winifred. She was the reason he’d chosen a wife so quickly—­that and his degenerative illness, which took him just two months after their marriage. He had wanted Winifred cared for when he was gone, and Amelia was doing a good job, if she did say so herself. Smart, well behaved, and kind, Winifred was, in every aspect except blood, her daughter. As Winifred tinkled her way through Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21, Amelia was so proud. And yet, there was the afternoon post at the door!

“I’ll get it, Jones,” Amelia called to the butler. Winifred paused at the instrument. “Please continue, dear. You’re doing wonderfully.”

The letters she’d been waiting for all afternoon were here, the letters addressed to Lady Agony, her secret pseudonym and life-­giving alter ego. Amelia’s black dress rustled noisily as she alighted for the door. She opened it before the deliverer could knock.

“Good afternoon,” greeted Amelia. “A lovely day to poke your head out for a breath, isn’t it?”

The man blinked. “My lady.”

Amelia inhaled the thick London air—­and choked. It was no matter to her whether it was smoke filled, smelly, or rank, however. It was the thrum of the city that had enticed her to leave Somerset without protest. Mells, the small village where she grew up, delivered newspapers directly to the Feathered Nest—­and into her small hands. She spent many afternoons poring over news from the city, young dreams arising in her heart even then, and when Edgar asked her if she would move to London, she answered with a resounding yes. “I’ll take that, thank you.”

The deliverer bowed wordlessly, and Amelia shut the door, returning to the drawing room as she opened the parcel and thumbed the correspondence: one, two, three letters. They requested advice on love, labor, and life. Well, mostly love, but letters all the same. Correspondents needed help traversing the murky waters of life’s greatest unsolved mystery, and who better to guide them than a member of the social elite? Her title was the reason her responses were so popular—­that and her honest advice. Times had changed, and readers were desperate to change with them, reaching for the next rung of the social pecking order. Plus, they and the ton wanted to know who Lady Agony really was and how she had become involved in writing in the first place.

It was her childhood friend and fellow newspaper fiend, Grady Armstrong, now an editor at one of the most popular penny weeklies in London, who put her in touch with the task. No one but he and Amelia knew the true story. A year ago, his office was flooded with letters addressed to the magazine’s agony column, called such because of the angst in the letters. When the writer became discouraged with young people’s outrageous behavior and quit, Grady had neither the time nor the talent to respond. That’s when he asked Amelia—­who needed something to occupy her hours after her husband’s death—­if she would be interested in the chore. He knew she enjoyed reading and writing. Would she enjoy a secret job at the weekly magazine? Did the queen enjoy tea? She agreed in a heartbeat. Now Grady’s office was busier than ever before, but in a good way. Her unconventional wisdom and mysterious identity kept readers hooked—­and buying more magazines.

“Letters!” exclaimed Winifred, leaving the pianoforte. “Are any for me?”

Amelia slipped them into the crevice of the chair. “I’m afraid not. But your performance was top-­notch. I’ve hardly enjoyed Mozart more.”

“Really?” Winifred pushed a fair lock of hair from her face.

“Really.” The Amesburys were known for their handsome hair, and Winifred’s was no exception. Winifred would grow into a beauty before long, but for now Amelia was enjoying the plumpness of her cheeks, the crookedness of her smile, and her enthusiasm for life. At ten years old, Winifred was at that precious age between child and young woman, and Amelia was going to savor every moment.

Unlike Winifred, Amelia had long auburn locks with honey highlights that hung to her waist when it wasn’t swept up, which was only at bedtime. Her hair, streaming behind her as she rode into the inn’s stable, was the first thing Edgar had noticed about her. The second was that she wasn’t riding sidesaddle.

The governess tsked from the corner. “Lady Winifred, you’ve not been excused from the pianoforte. The last page went dreadfully fast.”

“That’s all for now, Miss Walters,” said Amelia. “I’d like to have a cup of tea with Winifred before I reply to my correspondence.”

Miss Walters bowed deeply, her light brown bun a perfect swirl. “As you wish, Lady Amesbury. Please send her up to the music room when you’re finished.”

Winifred jumped into the patterned chair next to Amelia, her feet not touching the floor. She reached for a strawberry tart, then drew back her hand, waiting for permission.

When Miss Walters was gone, Amelia turned to Winifred. “Would you like a sweet?”

“Yes, please, and tea also.”

Amelia poured out the tea. “Do you like playing the pianoforte?”

“Very much,” answered Winifred. “Three sugars, please.”

Amelia raised her eyebrows but dropped in the sugars. “I can tell. I can feel it when you play.”

“Governess Walters said I played it too fast.” Winifred took a bite of the strawberry tart, closing her blue eyes as she savored the sweetness. Only a child could enjoy the full pleasure of tartlets.

“She knows best.” Amelia placed the girl’s tea next to her. “She’s been classically trained.” It was one of the reasons Amelia had hired her; also, she was terribly good at French. Winifred had a talent for music, and Amelia wanted to make sure her musical instruction was taken seriously. Much to Amelia’s delight, Winifred performed for her every afternoon in the...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2023
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593548760
• ISBN 13: 9780593548769
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 320
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: preigu; mail@preigu.de; ; Lengericher Landstr. 19; Osnabrück; 49078; Deutschland