The journey will be both physically and emotionally arduous but will bring answers to some unexpected and profound questions. A Christmas Visitor: Henry Rathbone, one of the engaging characters from Anne Perry's William Monk series, arrives to spend Christmas at a family manor house near Ullswater, but his host, Judah Dreghorn, has slipped while crossing a stream in the grounds of the estate and drowned.
Not only this, but Ashton Gower, recently released from prison, is slandering Judah's name, claiming that his family rightfully owns the estate and that the forged deeds for which he was jailed were in fact genuine. Okay, I've now pulled more than I will probably read this year, but I think I'll let mood dictate which ones I grab. Of course, I could end up reading them all. Who knows? Christmas is still important, but I'm putting it off for a bit.
I might read it toward the end of the month. I need to get to her latest novel soon. I have Christmas at the Mysterious Bookshop in transit from the library.
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ETA: Thanks for doing this rabbitprincess. Christmas at the Mysterious Bookshop is waiting for me on the shelf. Trying to hold off until after Thanksgiving but am quite ready to read a holiday themed book.
Plus it's a novella so should make it easier to reach my goal this year. Nice idea for a group read!
A Christmas Visitor (Christmas Stories, #2) by Anne Perry
Timothy is also set during the days leading up to Christmas. If you do get around to reading it, I will be very curious to see what you think of it. Have finished Kissing Christmas Goodbye by M. I got my copy of Christmas at the Mysterious Bookshop and I plan to read one story a night. I'll look for another short story Christmas anthology so I can read a little murder mystery through Epiphany. Now my plan is in place. I love Christmas mysteries and have read a few of the ones you mentioned in 1.
Here's a list of Christmas cozies, from my favorite cozy website The first book takes place around two weeks before Christmas and the second takes place after Christmas and into the New Year. I started Mr. Timothy last night. And my impression so far is that Little Tim is leading a very different life than Dickens expected! I finished The Man with a Load of Mischief. A many times comfort re-read for me. And just began The Fleet Street Murders. I have another not sure if it's 2 or not and if I finish my 13 in 13 challenge early, might go on to read that one.
I finiished The Fleet Street Murders today. Not my favorite Charles Lenox book, but good nonetheless. I finished the Chocolate Snowman murders. Has left me with a hankering after a chocolate snowman or two though. I was enjoying reading these short stories one per evening. Then RL intruded and I got behind. I caught up this weekend but they are more enjoyable one at a time.
Apparently, the ones with him included made it into his anthology. Net Galley sent a collection of Christmas short stories, which I might also look at. That's what I've been doing, but have been sorely tempted to finish them off. It's given me something to look forward to.
Finished Christmas at the Mysterious Bookshop. Now to start Crime for Christmas. This here in Applecross was the world of reality. Isobel laughed. Lord Salchester saw Vespasia and acknowledged her appreciatively. Lady Salchester smiled with warm lips and a glacial eye.
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You seem quite recovered from the exertion of the season. She was twenty years older than Vespasia, but a woman of immense stamina who had never been beautiful.
Vespasia was aware of Lord Salchester's eye on her, and even more of Omegus Jones's. It was the latter that tempered her reply. Wit was not always funny, if it cut those already wounded. I shall endeavor not to do that again. Lady Salchester was astounded. Vespasia smiled sweetly and excused herself. Gwendolen Kilmuir was talking earnestly to Bertie Rosythe.
Her head was bent a trifle, the light shining on her rich brown hair and the deep plum pink of her gown.
She was widowed well over a year now, and had only recently taken the opportunity to cast aside her black. She was a young woman, barely twenty-eight, and had no intention of spending longer in mourning than society demanded. She looked up demurely at Bertie, but she was smiling, and her face had a softness and a warmth to it that was hard to mistake.
Vespasia glanced at Isobel and caught a pensive look in her eye. Then a moment later she smiled, and it was gone. Bertie turned and saw them. As always he was gracefully polite. Gwendolen's pleasure was not as easily assumed. Vespasia saw the muscles in her neck and chin tighten and her bosom swell as she breathed deeply before mustering a smile.
How nice it will be to dine together. And at the queen's garden party.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Murder -- Christmas Mysteries Group Read
Bertie smiled uncertainly. Suddenly and with a considerable jolt, Vespasia realized that Isobel's interest in Bertie was not as casual as she had supposed. The barb in her remark betrayed her. Such cruelty was not in the character she knew.
A Christmas Visitor
Gwendolen laughed with a release of tension and turned to Bertie again. Lady Warburton joined them, and the conversation became enmeshed in gossip, cases of "he said" and "she said" and "do you really believe? The chandeliers above were reflected in the gleam of silver, shattered prisms of light on tiers of crystal goblets in a field of linen napkins folded like lilies.
The fire burned warm in the grate. White chrysanthemums from the greenhouse filled the bowls, providing a redolence of earth and autumn leaves, the soft fragrance of woodland. They began with the lightest consomme. There would be nine courses, but it was not expected that everyone would eat from all of them.
Ladies in particular, mindful of the delicate figures and tiny waists demanded by fashion, would choose with care. Where physical survival was relatively easy, one created rules to make social survival more difficult. Not to be accepted was to become an outcast, a person who fitted nowhere. Conversation turned to more serious topics. Sir John Warburton spoke of the current polit- ical situation, giving his views with gravity, his thin hands brown against the white linen of the cloth. Especially over something as absurd as the Crimea!
They'll remember Waterloo, and leave us well alone. Times change. Good and evil do not, nor pride and compassion, but warfare moves all the time--new weapons, new ideas, new strategies. The butler poured wine. The lights blazed. The clink of silver on porcelain was the soft background as conversation began again.
Vespasia watched rather than listened. Faces, gestures told her more of emotion than the carefully considered words.