âTis the season for an investigation! Lady Julia and Nicholas Brisbane return for a Christmas caper at Bellmont Abbeyâ¦.
After a year of marriageâand numerous adventuresâLady Julia and Brisbane hope for a quiet, intimate Christmas togetherâ¦until they find themselves at her fatherâs ancestral estate, Bellmont Abbey, with her eccentric family and a menagerie of animals.
Nevertheless, Julia looks forward to a lively family gatheringâ¦but amongst the celebrations, a mystery stirs. There are missing jewels, new faces at the Abbey, and a prowling ghost that brings back unwelcome memories from a previous holidayâone that turned deadly. Is a new culprit recreating crimes of the past? And will Brisbane let Julia investigateâ¦?
Donât miss a single tale in the Lady Julia seriesâread the book that started it all, Silent in the Grave, available now.
The First Chapter
Here we come a-wassailing
Among the leaves so green, Here we come a-wandering, So fair to be seen.
âHere We Come A-Wassailingâ Traditional English Carol
London December 1, 1889
I tore open the letter and scanned it quickly before brandishing it at my husband. âWe are going to Rome,â I informed him. I gave him the letter to read, fairly hopping from foot to foot as he came to the end.
âBloody hell.â
âWe must go,â I insisted.
âWe must not,â was Brisbaneâs equally firm reply. I smiled to myself, certain I would win this particular skirmish. I was already half-packed in my mind. Rome would be chilly for Christmas, but not so cold as to preclude a full appreciation of the city and all its attendant delights. Parties and entertainments, pageants and festivalsâand a new mystery to be solved, given the contents of the letter.
The process of persuading Brisbane to permit me to help him in his investigations as a private enquiry agent was slow. Glacial, in fact. But progress had been made, and through our various adventures we had drawn closer than ever. The anticipation of sharing a new case with him in one of my favourite cities was almost more than I could bear.
My brother, Plum, the newest addition to Brisbaneâs staff, held out his teacup. âAny hope of more tea? And another muffin?â
I obliged him, as much for the chance to plan my persuasions as to be sisterly. Besides, Plum had only recently been released from the splints that had held his injured arm in place after a particularly nasty incident of my own making. 1 I still felt a trifle guilty about that. I poured his tea and toasted up a muffin and when I handed them over, he fixed me with a mischievous eye.
âHavenât you forgot something?â
I cast around in my mind. âNothing of importance. The significant cases have all been attended to, and the rest are trifling matters Brisbane can either finish himself or hand over to the very excellent Monk. We can be in Rome by the middle of the month.â
Brisbane said nothing. He merely steepled his hands under his chin and regarded me thoughtfully. Plum settled back into his chair, clearly enjoying himself.
âYou have forgot.â
I puffed out a little sigh of impatience. âDonât be cryptic, Plum. You havenât the cheekbones for it. What is it that I have forgot?â
âFather.â
I smoothed my skirts. âI havenât forgot Father at all. He knows not all of his children can come home every holiday and he never fusses about Christmas.â That was not entirely true. Father, or to give him his proper title, the Earl March, was a bit of a despot about his children even though there were ten of us and the eldest was past forty. Father liked to play the patriarch and gather us into the fold whenever he could. âItâs been years since the whole clan was gathered at Bellmont Abbey.â
âTen, to be precise.â The words were clipped and weighty as stones.
I went quite still. âNo.â
Plumâs handsome mouth curved into a smile. âOh, yes. Itâs slipped your mind, dearest, but the year is 1889âand that means Twelfth Night falls in 1890.â