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Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave Manor: Being the First Jane Austen Mystery (Jane Austen Mysteries)
by Stephanie Barron
Mass Market Paperback : 352 pages
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On a visit to the estate of her friend, the young and beautiful Isobel Payne, Countess of Scargrave, Jane bears witness to a tragedy. Isobel's ...
Introduction
For everyone who loves Jane Austen...a marvelously entertaining new series that turns the incomparable author into an extraordinary sleuth!
On a visit to the estate of her friend, the young and beautiful Isobel Payne, Countess of Scargrave, Jane bears witness to a tragedy. Isobel's husband—a gentleman of mature years—is felled by a mysterious and agonizing ailment. The Earl's death seems a cruel blow of fate for the newly married Isobel. Yet the bereaved widow soon finds that it's only the beginning of her misfortune...as she receives a sinister missive accusing her and the Earl's nephew of adultery—and murder. Desperately afraid that the letter will expose her to the worst sort of scandal, Isobel begs Jane for help. And Jane finds herself embroiled in a perilous investigation that will soon have her following a trail of clues that leads all the way to Newgate Prison and the House of Lords—a trail that may well place Jane's own person in the gravest jeopardy.
Editorial Review
In a time of near Jane Austen-mania, what better heroine to solve a mystery than Jane herself? Only two things are required: a satisfying, well-structured whodunit plot and a knack for rendering Austen's style at picking up the most delicate nuances in social behavior. Stephanie Barron succeeds on both counts. When the squire of a country manor in Hertfordshire is found lifeless in his bed, foul play is suspected and Jane is called upon to unravel the mystery. Along the way, Barron employs Jane as the first-person narrator and adeptly re-creates Austen's voice and delightfully subtle humor.Excerpt
Journal entry, 11 December 1802, written in the small hours"What do you make of it, Jane?" The Countess of Scargrave asked. Her fingers gripped my elbow painfully.
I gazed at the recumbent form of her husband with dismay. Frederick, Lord Scargrave, was decidedly unwell--so unwell that I had been called to his bedside an hour before dawn, an indiscretion the Earl would never have allowed while possessed of his senses. I pulled the collar of my dressing gown closer about my neck and placed my free hand over the Countess's. ... view entire excerpt...
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