A Study in Murder (Victorian Book Club Mystery 1)

“But I will tell you all that’s happened since I saw you last.”

“This is so exciting!” Eloise joined her arm with Amy’s. Persephone barked frantically and ran in circles as they reached the front door. Amy bent down to pet the dog. “Do you want to go for a walk, too?” She smiled at Lacey, who handed her the dog’s leash. “She does not like being left behind.”

“I know,” Lacey said. “If you do, then she won’t talk to you.”

Amy clipped the leash on Persephone’s collar and scooped her into her arms. “Come along, then. We shall all go for a lovely walk in the spring air.”

As they strolled along, the dog sniffing everything to the right side of the pathway, then the left, Amy decided this had been a wonderful idea. The sun shone bright in a cloudless deep-blue sky. She twirled her parasol and nodded to other strollers she passed.

She filled Eloise in on what had happened in the past few days. “You know, trying to solve the mystery of Mr. St. Vincent’s death cast a pall over my life that even writing about such things has never done.” Amy tugged on Persephone’s leash. “If one is at the center of a true murder investigation, ’tis a bit more daunting than writing about a fictitious murder.”

“I would believe so. I can’t imagine how frightening this must be for you.”

Amy nodded. “There was one pleasant thing that came from our visit with Mrs. Miles. She told us that Mr. Miles prefers my books. It is quite difficult to allow such compliments to go unacknowledged because my writing is a secret. I long for the day when a woman will be accepted for writing anything she wants to write.”

Eloise smiled. “Or doesn’t have a papa who believes a woman shouldn’t write such things.”

“Well said.” As they turned the corner, the Abbey churchyard and the Roman Baths came into view. With the official Season in full swing in London, this was the time of year many of the beau monde retired to Bath for a few days to take a respite from all the balls, soirees, musicales, and other events that kept the members of the haut ton busy while the young ladies sought husbands and the young men dodged the marriage-minded mamas.

From what her brother, Michael, had told her—a successful dodger of the mamas himself—there were quite a few American heiresses now involved in the Season. Apparently, a lot of the young lords who needed cash infused into their estates were taking on American wives. It was basically a mutually beneficial swap. A title for the American young lady; money for the old, crumbling estate.

They walked the cobblestone path to the front door of the Roman Baths, the little dog sniffing everything she came across. The smell had already reached them before Amy opened the door.

The Grand Pump Room, adjacent to the Roman Baths, offered refreshments as well as water from the bath’s hot springs. It served as a gathering place for residents as well as visitors to the city.

Couples and groups of visitors strolled the room. There were several children present, being encouraged—not too successfully—by their parents and nannies to drink the foul-tasting water that was heralded as being good for one’s system.

“Lady Amy, how lovely to see you! And Miss Spencer.” They turned in unison to see Lady Ambrose and a few of the ladies from her sewing circle enjoying a stroll about the room. Mrs. Richmond and Lady Graham and her daughter, Lady Susan, all offered a slight hug and air kisses.

“Oh, my, I just love your outfit!” Lady Susan gushed. “You look just wonderful in that color.”

“Thank you. Yellow always makes me feel happy.”

Lady Susan latched on to Eloise while Lady Ambrose took Amy’s arm and moved her forward. “It is too bad Miss Hemphill doesn’t have a color to make her happy.”

Amy’s ears perked up. “Oh, dear. Is something the matter with Miss Hemphill?”

Lady Graham sighed. “We are afraid so, but she won’t tell us what is troubling her. We have our sewing circle this afternoon, but Miss Hemphill declined our invitation to join us here at the Baths this morning.” She leaned in close. “Frankly, I believe the poor girl would benefit from the waters. I am afraid she’s contracted something and is not taking proper care of herself.”

“The girl looks absolutely frightful,” Mrs. Richmond added from behind Amy and Lady Graham. “The poor dear’s nerves are so strained that she is having stomach upsets now.” The woman shook her head. “I do wish she would see a doctor.”

“She has not seen a doctor?” Amy asked as she tugged on Persephone’s leash, since the dog seemed anxious to move faster than the women were strolling.

“No. I offered to go with her one afternoon, but she declined.”

Amy’s mind was in a whirl. So strained by nerves that she was physically ill? Could it be guilt that plagued the woman? Guilt because she had killed Mr. St. Vincent?

“Persephone, stop pulling.” Amy bent to attempt to soothe the dog, but the little animal pulled hard enough that she tugged the leash from Amy’s hand. “Stop!”

As she stood, Amy saw what had her dog so frantic. A cat darted across the room, Persephone on her tail. “Persephone, stop!” Amy ran from the group of women and shouted and waved frantically at two young boys. “Please, grab my dog.”

To the sounds of the women calling Persephone, the lads tried to catch her, but they ended up on their bottoms when the cat jumped up on one of the boys and flew off his shoulder to land on a ledge. The cat licked its paws as it looked down at Persephone, who was now barking wildly.

Out of breath, Amy caught up to her dog and reached for the leash. Persephone raced off again, even though the cat was still perched on the ledge. The dog had apparently enjoyed her romp around the room and had no intention of stopping.

By now Amy had gained the attention of just about everyone in the Pump Room. Eloise had joined in the effort to catch the dog and barely missed grabbing her as the blasted animal darted in the other direction.

Amy could have sworn she heard the dog laugh.