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    Snobbery with Violence: An Edwardian Murder Mystery
    Snobbery with Violence: An Edwardian Murder Mystery
    Snobbery with Violence: An Edwardian Murder Mystery
    Ebook240 pages3 hours

    Snobbery with Violence: An Edwardian Murder Mystery

    By M. C. Beaton

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    When a marriage proposal appears imminent for the beautiful -- if rebellious -- Lady Rose Summer, her father wants to know if her suitor's intentions are honorable. He calls on Captain Harry Cathcart, the impoverished younger son of a baron, to do some intelligence work on the would-be fiancee, Sir Geoffrey Blandon.

    After his success in uncovering Geoffrey's dishonorable motives, Harry fashions a career out of "fixing" things for wealthy aristocrats. So when the Marquess of Hedley finds one of his guests dead at a lavish house party, he knows just the man to call.

    But when Harry is caught between his client's desire for discretion and his suspicion that murder may indeed have been committed, he enlists the help of Superintendent Kerridge of the Scotland Yard and Lady Rose, also a guest at Lord Hedley's.

    Set in Britain and the Edwardian world of parties, servants, and scandal, M. C. Beaton's Snobbery with Violence is a delightful combination of murderous intrigue and high society.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMacmillan Publishers
    Release dateApr 1, 2010
    ISBN9781429902748
    Snobbery with Violence: An Edwardian Murder Mystery
    Author

    M. C. Beaton

    M. C. Beaton (1936-2019), the “Queen of Crime” (The Globe and Mail), was the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Agatha Raisin novels -- the basis for the hit show on Acorn TV and public television -- as well as the Hamish Macbeth series and the Edwardian Murder Mysteries featuring Lady Rose Summer. Born in Scotland, she started her career writing historical romances under several pseudonyms and her maiden name, Marion Chesney. In 2006, M.C. was the British guest of honor at Bouchercon.

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    Reviews for Snobbery with Violence

    3.5/5

    218 ratings22 reviews

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    • 4/5
      I did not know that Chesney also wrote under the name M.C. Beaton when I picked this book up. I've read Agatha Raisin and Hamish Macbeth books and enjoyed them and I've now added this series to that list.Lady Rose is not the typical Edwardian lady, content to become married off and stand in the shadow of her husband. She falls for the dashing Sir Geoffrey Blandon, much to her father's disapproval. When the two are to become engaged, Rose's father calls on a Captain Harry Cathcart to investigate Blandon. Cathcart reports that Blandon is a blackguard of the worst sort. When Rose is made aware of this, she is furious with Blandon, her father and Cathcart. To get revenge against Blandon, for his deception, Rose exposes this news at the Duke of Freemount's ball. This scandalous revelation puts Blandon in a bad light,and also puts her and her family in one too. The family winds up leaving London for their country house in hopes of the gossip and uproar dying down.While in the country, nearby Telby Castle's owners decide to put on a 'last-chance soirée' for aristocratic women with a not-so-good chance of getting a husband during the 'season.' Guests will stay at the castle for a few days, leading up to the ball. Rose is among the ladies invited. The selection of gents isn't that great either. During this time, one of the guests is found dead. The clues are unusual and the hosts have no wish for any publicity about the death. Rose being Rose, has no interest in the gents there, but rather in solving the mystery of the death of the guest. When a certain Captain Cathcart is called in by the hosts to solve and hush up the death, the story gets even better.
    • 3/5
      Marion Chesney/M.C. Beaton has a formula that regardless of which series or persona she is writing in, is always in play: Barely existing plot, overly pulled sexual tension between the leads, content the depth of a 1" puddle, and story devices that are thrown against the wall and then forgotten. Having read much of the Agatha Raisin series, while knowing it was to be frivolous fun, I grew bored because Aggie (don't call her that if you value your life) never seemed to grow as a character. It was always the same shenanigans, book after book. With this being said, I picked up the Edwardian Mystery series by Chensey/Beaton as I grow increasingly interested in this time period I'm on the lookout for contemporary titles written about this period and this is one of the few contemporarily written series currently available.Chesney/Beaton doesn't disappoint. You have your "oh she's supposedly so well educated but portrays herself as a half-wit" heroine who comes from exceedingly good stock; the mysterious and fallen main male lead who "oh really publicly hates the heroine but secretly loves her" and yes, it's all very predicable and cliche-y. There is no stretch in the research or imagination here, and if I had not been well attuned to Ms. Chesney/Beaton's writing style from before, I would probably like the book even less but you know, at the end of the day, it's a frippery of a read that while it may not have educated me, it did keep me entertained.
    • 4/5
      Lady Rose Summer is an idealist who keeps trying to kick out against convention - but things don't turn out the way she hopes. Harry Cathcart gets involved when Rose's father tries to look out for his daughter. Harry thinks Rose is "unfeminine" but he can't help being attracted to her anyway. Rose finds Harry horrible - but enjoys showing him just how much she dislikes him. The bulk of the mystery takes place at a house party for women who have been unsuccessful at the "season" and there is a closed cast of possible murderers in residence. The tension between Rose and Harry makes this story fun.
    • 3/5
      Nice enough mystery, but the dialogue was awkward at times. The four primary characters were fairly entertaining, but the remaining ones were a bit flat. I may continue and pick up the next book in this series at some point.
    • 3/5
      Starts slowly but almost comes together at the end. Minor characters, maid and valet, more interesting than the major, Rose and the captain. Will try the next installment.
    • 2/5
      My fault for not recognizing that M.C. Beaton is a series author - apparently she's cranked out 23 Agatha Raisin novels and some Hamish Macbeth books as well? Given that she's accustomed to writing quickly rather than artfully, shouldn't have been surprised that this read more like a TV script that a movie script: a shallow crime solved more by coincidence than wit (also full of so many plot holes it's evident the author isn't expecting anyone to mind); stock characters - the rebellious heroine, the lower-class actress with a heart of gold, catty debutantes, caddish young suitors, boorish old matrons, etc.; even the writing exhibits minimal effort - scenes are pieced together with little/no effort at transitions or any narrative art. This is barebones storytelling, the type you get from an episode of Bones except that it happens to take place in Edwardian England.Yes, there are house parties, a ball, some minimal upstairs/downstairs satire, and - for reasons I'm not sure I comprehend - every dress the main character wears is described in excruciating detail. The Edwardian history feels authentic. But pretty much everything else, including the requisite embedding of clues and the hate-turns-gradually-to grudging-admiration-and-then-love subplot, is phoned in. This is what my book club calls a "McDonalds book" because, while you can count on the contents to be familiar and comfortable, one realizes there's no nutritional value and that one is going to be hungry again in an hour. Not saying it's a bad book, or a bad read - it's just really, really insubstantial. Okay as a diversion but you'll remember the plot/characters about as long as it takes you to return your copy to the library.
    • 4/5
      Marion Chesney is M.C. Beaton; I mostly like her other stories, if not the characters, but in this series, I actually (so far) like the characters as well:When a marriage proposal appears imminent for the beautiful, yet very intelligent, stubborn, & rebellious, Lady Rose Summer, her father wants to know if her suitor's intentions are honorable or not. Her father hires Captain Harry Cathcart, the impoverished younger son of a baron, to investigate the would-be-finance, Sir Geoffrey Blandon.After Harry's success in finding out that Geoffrey had no intention of marrying Lady Rose, but had a bet at his club that her could seduce the "Ice Queen"; Rose publicly calls him out at a ball they are attending and publicly denounces him.Harry then becomes known as "The Fixer", and continues as a private detective quietly "fixing" things for the upper class. When the Marquess of Hedley finds one of his guests dead at a lavish house party, Harry is the one he calls.Harry enlists the help of his aide Beckett, Scotland Yard, Lady Rose, and her maid/companion Daisy to investigate to find the murder and a missing maid.I liked the story, I liked the characters, it was a fun and fast read.
    • 3/5
      Marion Chesney/M.C. Beaton has a formula that regardless of which series or persona she is writing in, is always in play: Barely existing plot, overly pulled sexual tension between the leads, content the depth of a 1" puddle, and story devices that are thrown against the wall and then forgotten. Having read much of the Agatha Raisin series, while knowing it was to be frivolous fun, I grew bored because Aggie (don't call her that if you value your life) never seemed to grow as a character. It was always the same shenanigans, book after book. With this being said, I picked up the Edwardian Mystery series by Chensey/Beaton as I grow increasingly interested in this time period I'm on the lookout for contemporary titles written about this period and this is one of the few contemporarily written series currently available.Chesney/Beaton doesn't disappoint. You have your "oh she's supposedly so well educated but portrays herself as a half-wit" heroine who comes from exceedingly good stock; the mysterious and fallen main male lead who "oh really publicly hates the heroine but secretly loves her" and yes, it's all very predicable and cliche-y. There is no stretch in the research or imagination here, and if I had not been well attuned to Ms. Chesney/Beaton's writing style from before, I would probably like the book even less but you know, at the end of the day, it's a frippery of a read that while it may not have educated me, it did keep me entertained.
    • 4/5
      An Edwardian Murder Mystery. If you like Jane Austen genre - then you will definitely like this with a Sherlock Holmes twist.
    • 4/5
      Enjoyable silly little story of an Edwardian girl who is more interested in using her brain instead of flirting with potential suitors. She causes a scandal by participating in a suffragette rally and becomes the object of a bet of couple of young men. Her father hires a retired but impoverished veteran baron to handle the situation. They fight their attraction throughout the book while her ladies maid and his valet grow closer. Of course Lady Rose and Capt. Cathcart end up at the same party in a castle with people being murdered and she needs rescuing after being pushed into the moat.
    • 3/5
      A quite silly romp about outspoken Lady Rose, a country house party, a couple of corpses, and a handsome man riding (or rather driving) to the rescue. An easy weekend read.
    • 4/5
      This was a light enjoyable reading. It's a cosy mystery set in the Edwardian period. A young lady who has her season and should be getting married, failed to do so because she wouldn't accept the female aristocratic rules of that time. A good deal more she got herself involved to solve a mystery and therefore put herself into danger. A former Captain who was injured and not a beauty himself neither in looks nor character was trying to solve the puzzle too. Their servants were thinking that both of them would made a good match and were trying to keep their masters close to each other.
    • 4/5
      Snobbery With Violence is the first in the series of M.C. Beaton's Edwardian murder mysteries, featuring Lady Rose Summer and Captain Harry Cathcart. The set-up reminded me of Deanna Raybourn's Lady Julia Grey series, which I initially loved but eventually lost interest in, so I'm hoping these characters stay fresh and funny for longer. Lady Rose is a sheltered and spoiled debutante whose first London season is marred by her brief but enthusiastic involvement in the women's suffrage movement. Her name is dragged through the 'gutter press' - the Daily Mail, hah - and she instantly loses value in the marriage market, becoming more of a plaything than a potential wife. Her father employs the services of a moody retired captain named Cathcart to check up on Lady Rose's current suitor, and keeps him on to prevent an unwelcome visit from the womanizing King Edward. Cathcart develops a reputation for being a discreet detective, which he considers developing into a career, and keeps an eye on Lady Rose, following her to a house party in a gothic pile where the hosts are hiding a dark secret.The style of Beaton's novel is a mash-up of traditional 'cosy' detective novels and P.G. Wodehouse, with eccentric characters, farcical situations, and a nod to Edwardian etiquette. Lady Rose is great fun, resisting her fate and antagonising her parents by hiring a chirpy Cockney lady's maid, and Cathcart is suitably brooding and mysterious. They are obviously going to get together, which can either add to the fun, like Nick and Nora, or turn a detective series into a romance. The continual harping on class inequality - the rich getting richer, the poor getting nothing, and servants getting angry - might seem slightly overdone, except that the early twentieth century was ripe for social change, which was eventually brought on by the First World War.The murder mystery itself was rather lacklustre, but for the first novel in the series, I was more interested in the characters, who did not disappoint.
    • 4/5
      Good frothy fun cozy, just what you'd expect from Marion Chesney.
    • 2/5
      Entertaining, interesting perspectives on Edwardian manners, dress, social expectations. A bit chronocentric. Author portrays a young miss who resents and resists social expectations of parents and society--a bit predictable.
    • 3/5
      Formulaic but still quite diverting, although not up to the standard of Agatha Raison or Hamish MacBeth. Will probably read others in the series.
    • 1/5
      A potentially great plot undermined by formulistic writing. However someone has done the research on society mores and manners and these are inserted to give some feel of the Edwardian age. Also cleaning tips. However I assume that this device will run out shortly as some may care enough to read more of the series.Badly disappointed to find its Agatha Raisin translated to the Edwardian age with a few period details thrown in.
    • 3/5
      Lady Rose Summer's chances of marrying well went to zero when a photograph of her marching for women's suffrage appears in a London newspaper. One man is apparently interested in her -- but he has yet to actually propose. Lady Rose's father is suspicious of her suitor and asks a retired military man, Captain Harry Cathcart, to investigate him. Of course, her beau turns out to be a cad and Rose unmasks him as such in a public venue. In Edwardian England, that public display hurts per Rose's reputation more than it does the cad's.Rose is whisked off to a country house where she finds herself among other desperate women and some men who are real losers hoping to latch onto a wealthy woman. But, instead, one of the women is murdered and another woman's maid goes missing. Rose would be better off if she were an empty-headed piece of fluff, but she is intelligent and curious. When Captain Cathcart is called in to keep the murder from being splashed in all the tabloids, which would further tarnish everyone at the house party, he and Rose are thrown together. Of course, Captain Cathcart would is unsuitable husband material -- after all, he WORKS for a living -- Rose finds herself both attracted to and repelled by him. That sexual tension is the basis for this series ... along with murder, of course.Marion Chesney is better known as M.C. Beaton. Her writing is serviceable ... readers are never going to get lost in beautiful language when they read her books. They will, however, be treated to straightforward storytelling. Her books are all quick reads, with satisfying (if predictable) conclusions. 01/02/2010
    • 1/5
      Yuck! Yuck yuck yuck yuck YUCK!First of all, this book makes snide comments about Victorian notions of mediæval Olde Englande. That's super-ironical, because it exactly parallels this 21st century book's notions of Edwardian England. It's as though Chesney assumed that "common knowledge" about Edwardian manners is accurate and therefore she did not need to research them. So if you know anything about the reality of Edwardian manners, this book will just annoy the daylights out of you.Second of all, the characterizations were mediocre and clumsy. There were no characters in this story, only caricatures.But the worst thing about this book is that it's written for 10-year-olds and the only way to discover that is to read it. Seriously, the Cataloguing-in-Publication data give no hint that this book is at the same reading level as Bunnicula. Here is a representative example: "Harry gave up and finished his dinner in silence, which took quite a long time because there were eight courses. At last Lady Polly rose and the ladies followed her out. The gentlement were left alone with the port. "Mr. Busy, the rector, had fallen asleep. His mouth was open. He should have been called Mr. Lazy, thought Harry." This was written by an adult, for adults? There was even baby-talk masquerading (and not very well, either) as a fake lisp. I hope this is some kind of po-mo experiment in trans-something literature, or at least a joke, because if it's not, it reflects poorly upon both author and approving readers.In summary: plot, 2/5; characters, 0/5; style, -1/5.
    • 5/5
      This was a fun and easy read. I really like her Agatha Raisin series (written as M.C. Beaton), and this series did not disappoint. Was it formulaic? A little. But better written than a traditional "cozy" mystery, and either Chesney/Beaton does a lot of research or is simply blessed with oodles of obscure Edwardian "classist" knowledge. Her tidbits were entertaining (did you know that when calling on a household in person you bend down the corner of your calling card? Useless knowledge, but fun enough) and added another dimension to a standard whodunnit.I was pleased by the strong female character - the typical woman ahead of her time suffocating in the restrictive mores of Edwardian society - and well developed supporting characters.I will definitely continue reading this series. It is likely that I will tire of the style (I never did finish the Agatha Raisin series), but it should keep me enteretained for quite a while.
    • 4/5
      Lady Rose Summer has never been comfortable with the constraints of propriety. As a result, she joined the suffragettes and in the process damaged her reputation irreparably, much to the disappointment of her parents. When finally one young man is interested in courting her, allegations that his motivations may not be entirely marriage bound prompts Rose's father to employ former English war hero, Captain Harry Cathcart to check up on the potential beau.Harry is a minor lord with little money and is happy to look into the matter, if only to pay the back wages owed to his manservant. Once Harry discovers the cad's true intent, unfortunately earning Lady Rose's disdain in the process, he is awarded with a new vocation in assisting London's rich and elite with any manner of problems and cover-ups. Eventually Harry is consulted by Lord Hedley for just such a cover-up except this time the subject is murder and Lady Rose is the next potential victim.I've always generally avoided mysteries and this is the first ever "cozy" I've picked up. I was drawn to the idea of finding something rather like Krinard's "Kit and Olivia" short stories although without the supernatural component. Despite the fact that it really didn't wind up being much like that, it did turn out to be much more entertaining than I expected. I liked the two main characters of Harry and Rose, they both had very endearing qualities and even their faults made them likeable. Likewise the secondary characters of Daisy and Becket were great additions. This was much more character driven piece than I expected which probably accounts for why I enjoyed it so much. The mystery itself never actually came into play until a little over halfway through the story and when it did it reminded me of watching the PBS whodunit type shows which was actually rather entertaining. I did have a suspicion of who the culprit was and was gratified to learn I was correct. All in all this was a fun little story and I certainly liked it enough to move on to the next book of the series.
    • 3/5
      Lady Rose Summer's debut into high society is a complete disaster.

    Book preview

    Snobbery with Violence - M. C. Beaton

    One

    All the world over, I will back the masses against the classes.

    —WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE

    Unlike White’s or Brooks’s, it was simply known as The Club, lodged in a Georgian building at the bottom of St. James’s Street, hard by St. James’s Palace. Its membership was mostly comprised of the younger members of the aristocracy, who considered it a livelier place than the other stuffy gentlemen’s clubs of London.

    Some of them felt that the acceptance of Captain Harry Cathcart into The Club was a grave mistake. When he had left for the Boer War, he had been a handsome, easygoing man. But he had returned, invalided out of the army, bitter, brooding and taciturn, and he seemed unable to converse in anything other than clichés or grunts.

    One warm spring day, when a mellow sun was gilding the sooty buildings and the first trembling green leaves were appearing on the plane trees down the Mall, Freddy Pomfret and Tristram Baker-Willis entered The Club and looked with deep disfavour on the long figure of the captain, who was slumped in an armchair.

    Look at that dismal face, said Freddy, not bothering to lower his voice. Enough to put a fellow off his dinner, what?

    Needs the love of a bad woman, brayed Tristam. Eh, Harry. What? Rather neat that, don’t you think? Love of a bad woman, what?

    The captain, by way of reply, leaned forward, picked up the Times and barricaded himself behind it. He wanted peace and quiet to think what to do with his life. He lowered his paper once he was sure his tormentors had gone. A large mirror opposite showed him his reflection. He momentarily studied himself and then sighed. He was only twenty-eight and yet it was a face from which any sign of youth had fled. His thick black hair was showing a trace of grey at the temples. His hard and handsome face had black heavy-lidded eyes which gave nothing away. He moved his leg to ease it. His old wound still throbbed and hurt on the bad days, and this was one of them.

    He was the youngest son of Baron Derrington, existing on his army pension and a small income from the family trust. His social life was severely curtailed. On his return from the war, he had been invited out to various dinner parties and dances, but the invitations faded away as he became damned as a bore who rarely opened his mouth and who did not know how to flirt with the ladies.

    He put the Times back down on the table in front of him, and as he did so, he saw there was a copy of the Daily Mail lying there. Someone must have brought it in, for The Club would never supply a popular paper. There was a photograph on the front of a suffragette demonstration in Trafalgar Square and an oval insert of a pretty young girl with the caption, Lady Rose, daughter of the Earl of Hadshire, joined the demonstrators.

    Brave girl, thought the captain. That’s her social life ruined. He put the paper down again and forgot about her.

    But Lady Rose was possessed of exceptional beauty and a large dowry, so a month later her parents felt confident that her support for the suffragettes would not be much of a barrier to marriage. After all, the very idea of women getting the vote was a joke, and so they had told her, in no uncertain terms. They had moved to their town house in Eaton Square and lectured their daughter daily on where her duty lay. A season was a vast expense and England expected every girl to do her duty and capture a husband during it.

    Normally, the independently-minded Lady Rose would have balked at this. She had been refusing a season, saying it was nothing more than a cattle market, when, to the delight of her parents, she suddenly caved in.

    The reason for this was because Lady Rose had met Sir Geoffrey Blandon at a pre-season party and had fallen in love—first love, passionate all-consuming love.

    He appeared to return her affections. He was rich and extremely handsome. Lady Rose was over-educated for her class, and her obvious contempt for her peers had given her the nickname The Ice Queen. But to her parents’ relief, Sir Geoffrey appeared to be enchanted by their clever daughter. Certainly Rose, with her thick brown hair, perfect figure, delicate complexion and large blue eyes, had enough attributes to make anyone fall for her.

    But the fact was that her support for the suffragettes had indeed damaged her socially, and it seemed as if Sir Geoffrey had the field to himself. Resentment against Rose was growing in the gentlemen’s clubs and over the port at dinner parties after the ladies had retired. Suffragettes were simply men-haters. They needed to be taught a lesson. What that gal needs, Freddy Pomfret was heard to remark, is some rumpy-pumpy.

    As the season got underway and social event followed social event, the earl began to become extremely anxious. He felt that by now Sir Geoffrey should have declared his intentions.

    One day at his club, he met an old friend, Brigadier Bill Handy, and over a decanter of port after a satisfying lunch, the earl said, I’d give anything to know if Geoffrey means to pop the question.

    The brigadier studied him for a long moment and then said, I think you should be careful there. Blandon’s always been a bit of a rake and a gambler. Tell you what. Do you know Captain Cathcart?

    Vaguely. Only heard of him. Sinister sort of chap who never opens his mouth?

    That’s the one. Now he did some undercover work behind the lines in the war. You mustn’t mention this.

    I’m a clam.

    All right. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll give you my card and scribble something on the back of it. I’ll give you his address. Pop round there and ask him to check up on Blandon. It’s worth it. Rose is your only daughter. They say she talks like an encyclopaedia. Wouldn’t have thought that would fascinate Blandon. How did you come to make such a mistake?

    Not my fault, said the earl huffily. My wife got her this governess and left the instruction to her.

    I hear that Lady Rose is a member of the Shrieking Sisterhood, remarked the brigadier, using the nickname for the suffragettes.

    Not any more, she ain’t, said the earl. Mind you, I think the only reason she lost interest was because of Blandon.

    Well, maybe there is something to be said for love, though I don’t hold with it. A girl should marry background and money. They last, love don’t. Here’s my card. He wrote an address down and handed it over.

    The earl put his monocle in his eye and studied it. I say, old man. Chelsea? No place for a gentleman.

    If Captain Cathcart were the complete gentleman he wouldn’t dream of doing your snooping for you. But you’ll be safe with him.

    Lady Rose was at that moment fretting under the ministrations of her lady’s maid. Having abandoned the Sisterhood—but only briefly, she told herself—Rose had once more subjected herself to the stultifying dress code of Edwardian society. While she had been supporting the suffragette movement, she had worn simple skirts and blouses and a straw hat. But now she was dressed in layers of silk underclothes, starched petticoats and elaborate gowns with waterfalls of lace. Her figure was too slim to suit the fashion of ripe and luscious beauty, and so art was brought to bear to create the small-waisted, S-shaped figure. A beauty had to have an outstanding bust and a noticeable posterior. Rose was lashed into a long corset and then put into a Dip Front Adjuster, a waist-cinch that stressed the fashionable about-to-topple-over appearance. Her bottom was padded, as was her bust. By the time the maid had slung a rope of pearls around Rose’s neck and decorated the bosom of her gown with brooches, Rose felt she looked like a tray in a jeweller’s window.

    Geoffrey always praised her appearance but had implied that once she was married, she would be free to wear more comfortable clothes. Rose stared at the mirror as the maid put in pompadours, the pads over which her long hair would be drawn up and arranged. Sir Geoffrey had said nothing about when we are married. But he had stolen a kiss, just the other night, behind a pillar in the Jessingtons’ ballroom, and stealing a kiss was tantamount to a proposal of marriage.

    The captain lived in a thin white house in Water Street, off the King’s Road. The earl fervently hoped that the man was a gentleman and not some sort of Neverwazzer who wore a bowler hat or carried a coloured handkerchief in his breast pocket or—horror upon horrors—brown boots with a dark suit. He had never met him but had heard about him in the clubs.

    The earl climbed stiffly down from his carriage and waited while his footman rapped at the door. To his relief, the earl saw that the door was opened by a sober-looking gentleman’s gentleman who took the earl’s card, carefully turned down at one corner to show the earl was calling in person, put it on a silver tray, and retreated into the house.

    The earl frowned. His title should have been enough to grant him instant admission.

    The captain’s servant returned after only a few moments and spoke to the footman, who sprinted down the stairs to tell the earl that the captain would be pleased to receive him.

    The earl was ushered into a room on the ground floor. He was announced, and a tall saturnine man who had been sitting in a chair by the window rose to meet him.

    May we offer you something? asked Captain Cathcart. Sherry?

    Fine, fine, mumbled the earl, taken aback by the amount of books in the shelves lining the room. His Majesty, King Edward, set such a good example by not opening a book from one year’s end to another. Why couldn’t everyone follow such a fine example?

    Sherry, Becket, said the captain to his manservant. And to the earl, Do sit down, sir. I see the sun has come out at last.

    So it has, said the earl, who hadn’t noticed. I come on a delicate matter. He handed over the brigadier’s card.

    What matter?

    Well, y’see— The earl broke off as the manservant reentered the room with glasses and decanter on a tray. He poured two glasses and handed one to the captain and one to the earl.

    That will be all, said the captain and Becket noiselessly retreated.

    The captain turned his fathomless black gaze on the earl, wondering why he had come. The earl was a small round man dressed in a frock-coat and grey trousers. He had a round, reddish face and blue eyes which had a childlike look about them.

    It’s like this, said the earl, feeling awkward and embarrassed. I have a daughter, Rose…

    Ah, the suffragette.

    I thought people had forgotten about that, said the earl. Anyway, Rose is being courted by Sir Geoffrey Blandon. He’s not an adventurer. Good family. Nothing wrong there.

    And the problem?

    He hasn’t proposed. Rose is my only child. Would like some discreet chap to check up on Blandon. Find out if he’s the thing. I mean, does he have a mistress who might turn awkward? That sort of business.

    Having got it out, the little earl turned scarlet with embarrassment and took a gulp of sherry.

    I am not much out in the world these days, said the captain, but knowing how gossip flies about, I would have thought if there was anything unsavoury about the man, you’d have heard it.

    Blandon’s been in America for the past four years, came back in time for this season. Might be something nobody knows about. Handy says he’s a gambler.

    Captain Cathcart studied him for a long moment and then said, A thousand pounds.

    What, what? gabbled the earl.

    That is my fee for research and discretion.

    The earl was shocked. This captain was a baron’s son and yet here he was asking for money like a tradesman. And yet, why hadn’t Blandon declared his intentions? He was spoiling Rose’s chances of finding another suitor.

    The captain let the silence last. A carriage rattled over the cobbles on the street outside and a small fire crackled on the hearth. A clock on the mantel ticked away the minutes.

    Very well, said the earl with a cold stare.

    In advance, said the captain mildly.

    The earl goggled at him. You have my word.

    The captain smiled and said nothing.

    The earl capitulated. I’ll give you a draft on my bank.

    You may use my desk.

    The earl went over to a desk at the window and scribbled busily. He handed the draft to the captain and said angrily, If there’s nothing wrong, it’ll be a waste of money.

    I should think to be reassured on the subject of your only daughter would be worth anything.

    Harrumph. I’m going. Report to me as soon as you can, snapped the earl.

    The captain waited until Becket had ushered the earl out and then smiled at his manservant. My coat and hat, Becket. I am going to the bank. I will have your overdue wages when I get back.

    That is most gratifying, sir.

    At that moment, Rose was taking tea at the home of her mother’s friend, Mrs. Cummings, in Belgrave Square. She looked dismally at the small butter stain on one of her kid gloves, and, for seemingly the hundredth time, damned the mad rules of society, one of which was that a lady should not remove her gloves when taking tea. Although the bread and butter had been carefully rolled, a spot had got onto one of her gloves. Most ladies avoided the problem by simply not eating. What insanity, thought Rose bitterly. She had a healthy appetite and the spread before her was of the usual staggering proportions. Apart from the bread-and-butter, there were ham, tongue, anchovy, egg-and-cress and foie gras sandwiches; chicken cutlets and oyster canapés. And then the cakes: Savoy, Madeira, Victoria and Genoa, along with French pastries, to be followed by petits fours, banana cream, chocolate cream and strawberry ice cream. And all of it sitting there mostly untouched so that the ladies would not soil their gloves.

    Did no one but herself notice the poor on the streets of London? she wondered. And again she felt that uncomfortable feeling of isolation as she assumed she was probably the only person in society who did notice. Geoffrey, dear Geoffrey, did have some idea. He had told her that only the other day, the Duke of Devonshire had been visiting a bazaar with his agent and had stopped at a stall displaying wooden napkin rings and the duke had asked his agent what they were for.

    Napkin rings, said the agent. Middle-class people keep them on the table to put their table napkins in between meals.

    Said the astounded duke, Do you mean that people actually wrap up their napkins and use them again for another meal?

    Certainly, said the agent.

    The duke gasped as he looked at the stall, Good God! he exclaimed. I never knew such poverty existed.

    How Geoffrey had laughed at such idiocy. If only he would propose. She knew her parents were beginning to fret. She glanced at her mother, who was chatting amiably with her hostess. The countess had moaned before they had left for the tea party that she should never have allowed that dreadful governess to over-educate her child. What a world where intelligence was regarded with such deep suspicion. Poor Miss Tremp. Such a fine governess. She had moved on to another household. When I am married, I will take her out of servitude and make her my companion, thought Rose. And I will be married, she told herself firmly. The Duke of Freemount’s ball was to take place the following week, the grandest affair of the season, and Geoffrey had whispered that he had something to ask her and he would put the question to her there. What else could he mean? But on the other hand, why had he not approached her father and asked permission to pay his addresses?

    Harry Cathcart decided to start work right away. By dint of saying he had lost money to someone in a card game and he thought that someone might be Blandon, he managed to secure his address and a description of him. Blandon’s apartment was in St. James’s Square. Harry hired a closed carriage and sat a little way across the square to get a sight of his quarry. After a long wait, Blandon emerged. Although he was a fine figure of a man, Harry disliked him on sight. His stare was too arrogant, his eyes too knowing and his mouth too fleshy. There certainly was an air of the gambler about

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