Poisoned Pen Press, 368 pages, $15.99
I made the cardinal mistake of series readers: I read this book out of order. I frequently read series out of order. Usually, I am not punished. This time I was punished. In my defense, I think most writers want you to understand their characters and the circumstances that bring them to the beginning of the book you are reading, if you are not reading the first in the series, so they supply a little oblique précis for your elucidation.
Martin Edwards paints the background of “Mortmain Hall” with a dry brush, and I didn’t have the secret sauce to make the picture appear. Now, I confess I do own a copy of the first book, “Gallows Court,” but it lies unread. There was no reason not to read it first, except “Mortmain Hall” had come out recently, I read a good review of it, and I am an adult who takes responsibility for irresponsible actions. It is my own fault I enjoyed this less than I should have. Probably. Anyway.
This is what I eventually gathered. Rachel Savernake is a young woman. A rich young woman. Her crazysocks father, Judge Savernake, killed himself. She has no blood relations, but her family is comprised of the servants, the Truemans, of her father's mansion on the isle of Gaunt, where Rachel was raised. They are not mistress and servants; they are family. Together, they abandon the lonely, wild island and relocate to London. Rachel’s clear mind and observational skills indubitably mean she is destined for a life of crime … as a private investigator. Her inherited wealth means she doesn’t have to scrabble for a living and can take only the cases she wants.
Jacob Flint is a young reporter for a newspaper. He is the crime reporter, and his stories are sometimes at odds with the newspaper’s more respectable mission. Other London rags don’t have the same problem and consider the more lurid the story, the better. He met Rachel in the first (unread) book and has been secretly smitten with her. Not to give away the plot, but Jacob spends a lot of time smitten with all kinds of women, at least one of whom leads him into danger. Nevertheless, he and the Truemans are available to help Rachel with her current adventure.
The first half of the book builds excruciatingly slowly to the second half of the book, the part set on the lonely, windswept headland in a mansion in Yorkshire, not to be confused with the lonely, windswept island of Gaunt. There's a rising storm on the horizon. There are creepy, eccentric, or sinister characters sitting in the vast living room waiting for the murderer, if there is one, to be named.
The book begins in London after the First World War has ended. I’m certain there are clues thrown in to show when, but I couldn’t pinpoint the year if my pants were on fire. It is sometime after the Wall Street Crash, so after 1929, plus at least a few years. (Okay. If I hadn’t spent all my time rambling, I could have just looked on the back of the book. The time is 1930.)
In the first half of the book we are introduced to the characters who will eventually become the cast of suspects in the second half of the book set in Mortmain Hall. Through the ramblings of a gin-soaked young bureaucrat, Rachel knows the list of people to investigate. But investigate for what reason?
Does it help to know people are dropping like flies through the book?
First up, Gilbert Payne. Actually, Gilbert doesn’t manage to make it to the second half of the book, but he is prominent in his absence.
Sylvia Gorrie was accused of murdering her husband, in cahoots with her lover. She was acquitted. Her lover killed himself in prison.
Henry Rolland fled the scene of his mistress’ murder and was later caught. He would have swung for it, but the woman’s dissolute husband proved a better suspect. Henry was freed and the husband died.
As a reporter, Jacob has been following the current trial of Clive Danskin, charged with murdering a stranger. Life’s financial burdens were proving too much for Clive, so he allegedly killed a man, put the body in his car, set the car on fire, and vanished. He was caught trying to leave the country. Clive’s alibi sounds outrageous: A man picked Clive up after his car broke down. Clive does not know how the body got into his car or who set the car on fire. The newspapers and authorities advertised for the mysterious man who picked Clive up and could provide an airtight alibi, but no one responded. Few thought that such a person actually existed. All hope had fled on the last day of the trial when, sure enough, a man of impeccable reputation arrived to say it was he who had given Clive the ride. Clive was found innocent.
These people have something in common, but what? With the help of the Truemans and Jacob, Rachel manages to meet Leonora Dobell, wife of the heir of the atmospheric Mortmain Hall. It becomes obvious that Leonora knows about Rachel's sleuthing, just as Rachel knows about Leonora's popular book on true crime cases. Their mutual interest in crime cements the last layer necessary for the denouement.
Finally, halfway through the book, the dramatis personae are gathered, the stage is set, and the house lights dim.
I read a few of Martin Edwards’ books in his Daniel Kind series, and especially liked “The Coffin Trail,” the first in the series. Those are books in the traditional, cozy British fashion. “Mortmain Hall” is as well to a large extent, but Rachel's series is a step into the past, with a female protagonist who has modern sensibilities, while the other series are set in the present day.
I enjoyed the book, once I got past establishing who everyone was. Yes, the beginning was slow and rife with characters — Should I pay attention to this one? Or maybe that one? Rachel knows a police detective. Is he going to play a big part? — but ultimately entertaining. (Although cricket? It was a bit of a wicked googly for me.)
P.S. Edwards provides a “Cluefinder” listing at the end of the book. Apparently, many of the old classic mysteries had them. You can alternately berate and praise yourself for what hints you caught.
P.P.S. A lot of the men in this book are really creepy. I guess it reflects how women mostly were considered chattel, addenda, trophies, lineage keepers. I liked Leonora. I liked the makeshift daddy figure, Clifford Trueman.
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