Lady Rights a Wrong by Eliza Casey (Manor Cat Mystery #2)
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB |4.1 MB
Eliza Casey is a pseudonym for a multipublished author. Her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA Award, the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Booksellers Best, the National Readers’ Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion.
As the suffragette movement sweeps England in 1912, Lady Cecilia Bates wants to march but ends up trailing a killer instead in the latest entry to the Manor Cat Mysteries.
Lady Cecilia of Danby Hall feels adrift. She couldn’t be less interested in helping to plan the church’s upcoming bazaar. Instead, what excites her most is the Woman’s Suffrage Union meeting she has just attended. Inspired by the famous and charismatic leader of the group, Mrs. Amelia Price, Cecilia is eager to join the Union—if she can hide it from her parents, that is. But when Mrs. Price is found dead at the foot of the stairs of her home, her Votes for Women sash torn away, Cecilia knows she must attend to a more urgent matter: finding the killer. With the help of her lady’s maid Jane and intelligent cat Jack, she hopes to play her part in earning women’s equality by stopping the Union’s dangerous foe.
Jane turned the book sideways, studying a drawing of Redvers, Danby’s venerable butler. He had bushy, dark brows, very distinctive, but Cecilia had to admit she had made them even too caterpillar-like.
“This isn’t so bad,” Jane said. “He certainly looks stern enough.”
“I had hoped my drawing skills might come in handy if we ever—well, if our detecting assistance is ever called on again,” Cecilia admitted. “They would have been useful last spring. But seeing a dastardly murder in one’s own house is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.”
Jane laughed. “You sound disappointed about the lack of blood and gore at Danby, my lady!”
Cecilia laughed, too, and Jack blinked up at her with a flash of his bright green eyes. He had rather enjoyed playing detective, too. “I’m not really disappointed about that, Jane, nor about not having our lives in danger again. That was not terribly fun. I just feel so—so useless now. I don’t have anything meaningful to do. Even my mother doesn’t need my help so much since she has Annabel. Not that I especially miss passing the sandwiches at the tennis club teas or anything.”
Annabel Clarke was an American heiress who was maybe—probably—almost engaged to Cecilia’s brother, Patrick. She was meant to save Danby from its financial problems, as well as drag the studious Patrick out of his botany laboratory and into doing his duty as Danby’s heir. She was actually Jane’s employer, and only loaned her to Cecilia once in a while, since Cecilia hadn’t had her own maid for some time. Annabel was tiny, doll-like, pretty, with clouds of golden curls and exquisite, lacy pastel gowns—and she had the organizational skills and determination of Attila the Hun.
“Speaking of useful,” Jane said, “I saw this in the village.” She took a folded paper from her apron pocket and passed it to Cecilia. “It’s an important cause, isn’t it?”
Cecilia read over the smudged black ink of the announcement. “It is indeed,” she cried in rising excitement. Mrs. Amelia Price will be speaking at Danby Village Guildhall, it said, with a date and a sketch of a tall lady in a fur coat and large, stylish feathered hat behind a lectern, her hand raised imploringly.
“Amelia Price.” Cecilia sighed. “In person! I hoped to see her in London, but she had gone to France on a lecture tour for the summer.”
“She’s famous, isn’t she?” Jane said.
“She is indeed. The president of the Women’s Suffrage Union. My friend Miss Rainsley is a member. I met her daughter Anne Price briefly at the theater one evening just before we came back to Danby. I think the Prices had just returned from their tour. And now Mrs. Price is coming here!”