Product Description

"Let the wicked be ashamed, and let them be silent in the grave."

These ominous words, slashed from the pages of a book of Psalms, are the last threat that the darling of London society, Sir Edward Grey, receives from his killer. Before he can show them to Nicholas Brisbane, the private inquiry agent he has retained for his protection, Sir Edward collapses and dies at his London home, in the presence of his wife, Julia, and a roomful of dinner guests.

Prepared to accept that Edward's death was due to a longstanding physical infirmity, Julia is outraged when Brisbane visits and suggests that Sir Edward has been murdered. It is a reaction she comes to regret when she discovers the damning paper for herself, and realizes the truth.

Determined to bring her husband's murderer to justice, Julia engages the enigmatic Brisbane to help her investigate Edward's demise. Dismissing his warnings that the investigation will be difficult, if not impossible, Julia presses forward, following a trail of clues that lead her to even more unpleasant truths, and ever closer to a killer who waits expectantly for her arrival.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #24551 in Books
• Published on: 2007-12-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 544 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9780778325246
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
• Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
To say that I met Nicholas Brisbane over my husband's dead body is not entirely accurate. Edward, it should be noted, was still twitching upon the floor.

I stared at him, not quite taking in the fact that he had just collapsed at my feet. He lay, curled like a question mark, his evening suit ink-black against the white marble of the floor. He was writhing, his fingers knotted.

I leaned as close to him as my corset would permit.

"Edward, we have guests. Do get up. If this is some sort of silly prank—"

"He is not jesting, my lady. He is convulsing."

An impatient figure in black pushed past me to kneel at Edward's side. He busied himself for a few brisk moments, palpating and pulse-taking, while I bobbed a bit, trying to see over his shoulder. Behind me the guests were murmuring, buzzing, pushing closer to get a look of their own. There was a little thrill of excitement in the air. After all, it was not every evening that a baronet collapsed senseless in his own music room. And Edward was proving rather better entertainment than the soprano we had engaged.

Through the press, Aquinas, our butler, managed to squeeze in next to my elbow.

"My lady?"

I looked at him, grateful to have an excuse to turn away from the spectacle on the floor.

"Aquinas, Sir Edward has had an attack."

"And would be better served in his own bed," said the gentleman from the floor. He rose, lifting Edward into his arms with a good deal of care and very little effort, it seemed. But Edward had grown thin in the past months. I doubted he weighed much more than I.

"Follow me," I instructed, although Aquinas actually led the way out of the music room. People moved slowly out of our path, as though they regretted the little drama ending so quickly. There were some polite murmurs, some mournful clucking. I heard snatches as I passed through them.

"The curse of the Greys, it is—"

"So young. But of course his father never saw thirty-five."

"Never make old bones—"

"Feeble heart. Pity, he was always such a pleasant fellow." I moved faster, staring straight ahead so that I did not have to meet their eyes. I kept my gaze fixed on Aquinas' broad, black-wool back, but all the time I was conscious of those voices and the sound of footsteps behind me, the footsteps of the gentleman who was carrying my husband. Edward groaned softly as we reached the stairs and I turned. The gentleman's face was grim.

"Aquinas, help the gentleman—"

"I have him," he interrupted, brushing past me. Aquinas obediently led him to Edward's bedchamber. Together they settled Edward onto the bed, and the gentleman began to loosen his clothes. He flicked a glance toward Aquinas.

"Has he a doctor?"

"Yes, sir. Doctor Griggs, Golden Square."

"Send for him. Although I dare say it will be too late."

Aquinas turned to me where I stood, hovering on the threshold. I never went into Edward's room. I did not like to do so now. It felt like an intrusion, a trespass on his privacy.

"Shall I send for Lord March as well, my lady?"

I blinked at Aquinas. "Why should Father come? He is no doctor."

But Aquinas was quicker than I. I had thought the gentleman meant that Edward would have recovered from his attack by the time Doctor Griggs arrived. Aquinas, who had seen more of the world than I, knew better.

He looked at me, his eyes carefully correct, and then I understood why he wanted to send for Father. As head of the family he would have certain responsibilities.

I nodded slowly. "Yes, send for him." I moved into the room on reluctant legs. I knew I should be there, doing whatever little bit that I could for Edward. But I stopped at the side of the bed. I did not touch him.

"And Lord Bellmont?" Aquinas queried.

I thought for a moment. "No, it is Friday. Parliament is sitting late."

That much was a mercy. Father I could cope with. But not my eldest brother as well. "And I suppose you ought to call for the carriages. Send everyone home. Make my apologies."

He left us alone then, the stranger and I. We stood on opposite sides of the bed, Edward convulsing between us. He stopped after a moment and the gentleman placed a finger at his throat.

"His pulse is very weak," he said finally. "You should prepare yourself."

I did not look at him. I kept my eyes fixed on Edward's pale face. It shone with sweat, its surface etched with lines of pain. This was not how I wanted to remember him.

"I have known him for more than twenty years," I said finally, my voice tight and strange. "We were children together. We used to play pirates and knights of the Round Table. Even then, I knew his heart was not sound. He used to go quite blue sometimes when he was overtired. This is not unexpected."

I looked up then to find the stranger's eyes on me. They were the darkest eyes I had ever seen, witch-black and watchful. His gaze was not friendly. He was regarding me coldly, as a merchant will appraise a piece of goods to determine its worth. I dropped my eyes at once.

"Thank you for your concern for my husband's health, sir. You have been most helpful. Are you a friend of Edward's?"

He did not reply at once. Edward made a noise in the back of his throat and the stranger moved swiftly, rolling him onto his side and thrusting a basin beneath his mouth. Edward retched, horribly, groaning. When he finished, the gentleman put the basin to the side and wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. Edward gave a little whimper and began to shiver. The gentleman watched him closely.

"Not a friend, no. A business associate," he said finally. "My name is Nicholas Brisbane."

"I am—"

"I know who you are, my lady."

Startled at his rudeness, I looked up, only to find those eyes again, fixed on me with naked hostility. I opened my mouth to reproach him, but Aquinas appeared then. I turned to him, relieved.

"Aquinas?"

"The carriages are being brought round now, my lady. I have sent Henry for Doctor Griggs and Desmond for his lordship. Lady Otterbourne and Mr. Phillips both asked me to convey their concern and their willingness to help should you have need of them."

"Lady Otterbourne is a meddlesome old gossip and Mr. Phillips would be no use whatsoever. Send them home."

I was conscious of Mr. Brisbane behind me, listening to every word. I did not care. For some unaccountable reason, the man thought ill of me already. I did not mind if he thought worse.

Aquinas left again, but I did not resume my post by the bed. I took a chair next to the door and remained there, saying nothing and wondering what was going to happen to all of the food. We had ordered far too much in any event. Edward never liked to run short. I could always tell Cook to serve it in the servants' hall, but after a few days even the staff would tire of it. Before I could decide what to do with the lobster patties and salad molds, Aquinas entered again, leading Doctor Griggs. The elderly man was perspiring freely, patting his ruddy face with a handkerchief and gasping. He had taken the stairs too quickly. I rose and he took my hand.

"I was afraid of this," he murmured. "The curse of the Greys, it is. All snatched before their time. My poor girl." I smiled feebly at him. Doctor Griggs had attended my mother at my birth, as well as her nine other confinements. We had known each other too long to stand on ceremony. He patted my hand and moved to the bed. He felt for Edward's pulse, shaking his head as he did so. Edward vomited again, and Doctor Griggs watched him carefully, examining the contents of the basin. I turned away.

I tried not to hear the sounds coming from the bed, the groans and the rattling breaths. I would have stopped my ears with my hands, but I knew it would look childish and cowardly. Griggs continued his examination, but before he finished Aquinas stepped into the room.

"Lord March, my lady." He moved aside and Father entered.

"Julia," he said, opening his arms. I went into them, burying my face against his waistcoat. He smelled of tobacco and book leather. He kept one arm tucked firmly around me as he looked over my head.

"Griggs, you damned fool. Julia should have been sent away."

The doctor made some reply, but I did not hear it. My father was pushing me gently out the door. I tried to look past him, to see what they were doing to Edward, but Father moved his body and prevented me. He gave me a sad, gentle smile. Anyone else might have mistaken that smile, but I did not. I knew he expected obedience. I nodded.

"I shall wait in my room."

"That would be best. I will come when there is something to tell."

My maid, Morag, was waiting for me. She helped me out of my silk gown and into something more suitable. She offered me warm milk or brandy, but I knew I would never be able to hold anything down. I only wanted to sit, watching the clock on the mantel as it ticked away the minutes left.

Morag continued to fuss, poking at the fire and muttering complaints about the work to come. She was right about that. There would be much work for her when I put on widow's weeds. It was unlucky to keep crepe in the house, I reminded myself. It would have to be sent for after Edward passed. I thought about such things—crepe for the mirrors, black plumes for the horses—because then I did not have to think about what was happening in Edward's room. It was rather like waiting for a birth, these long, tense minutes of sitting, straining one's ears on tiptoe for the slightest sound. I expected to hear something, but the walls were thick and I heard nothing. Even when the clock struck midnight, the little voice on my mantel chiming twelve times, I could not hear the tall case clock in the hall. I started to mention the peculiarity of it to Morag, because one could always hear the case clock from any room in the house, when I realized what it meant.

"Morag, the clocks have stopped."

She looked at me, her lips parted to speak, but she said nothing. Instead she bowed her head and began to pray. A moment later, the door opened. It was Father. He said nothing. I went to him and his hand cradled my head like a benediction. He held me for a very long time, as he had not done since...

Customer Reviews

A bereft inculcation
Deanna Raybourn intimated in her "Acknowledgements" that it took two years to find a publisher for this book. That's surprising, because for a first time author, she has the distinct poise of a seasoned author.

I was hooked from the first paragraph, certainly one of the most enticing I've seen in years: "To say that I met Nicholas Brisbane over my husband's dead body is not entirely accurate. Edward, it should be noted, was still twitching upon the floor." From those two sentences, I knew that I was in very capable hands.

This was more than just a hook, however. These two sentences demonstrate a remarkable clarity of thought, and upon reading them, I not only chuckled but also settled into the book: I knew, beyond question, that I was in capable hands. There's nothing more important for an author than to establish within the very first paragraph that they know exactly what they're doing, that they are in complete control of their story. If we, the reader, don't have that sense - even if we're not consciously aware of it - we will lose interest.

While there are certainly tell-tale mystery elements here, it doesn't read like a "whodunit" mystery whatsoever. Raybourn presents her material in such a way that the reader may feel that they're experiencing something entirely new. I can't applaud her loudly enough for this.

Her characters are strong, well drawn, free of cliché, and far from the standard cardboard characters we see too often in fiction. Often an author will talk about characters speaking to them. These are characters that we as readers find ourselves drawn to because ultimately they are the most realistic; they appeal to the majority of our senses. I have to imagine that all of the major characters at times caused a cacophony in Raybourn's mind that kept her up into the wee hours of the morning madly working on her manuscript simply to get the voices to be quiet for a time!

Lady Julia in the beginning is three things, essentially: a sibling, a daughter, and a wife. She has little to no identity of her own. Within these pages, as she realizes (quickly) that her husband was murdered, she grows to the task of an "investigator", led by the rather harsh hand of Nicholas Brisbane, previously hired by her husband (prior to his death, of course ) to look into some rather disturbing notes he was receiving that heavily implied that his life was in immediate danger.

Her relationship with Nicholas is an interesting one, and it never falls into clichés. Thankfully.

The ending is a terrific surprise, and even if you guess at certain plot points, and believe you know who the murderer is, you will still find yourself reeling at the end when everything comes together.

One more thing - and don't you dare cheat!!! - the last sentence of the book was as satisfying as the first.

My only disappointment is that a major publisher didn't pick this up and put a significant marketing campaign behind it, one that, for example, The Thirteenth Tale received from its publisher. I came across this merely by chance at a bookstore. Oddly, it was the first book I saw when I walked in the store, even though it wasn't the most prominently displayed. I'm thankful that my eyes were set as they were that morning, for this beautifully written book gave me too few hours of enjoyment.

"Julia, you need adventure."
Deanna Raybourn's "Silent in the Grave" is a Victorian mystery set in London and featuring the newly widowed Lady Julia Grey. Julia's thirty-one year old husband, Sir Edward, has collapsed and died, apparently of an inherited heart ailment. Julia is shocked but not overly depressed about Edward's demise, since they had not shared a bed for some time. As the daughter of an earl, Julia has led a sheltered life, with servants at her beck and call and little to challenge or excite her. Her thus far boring existence is about to change, however.

A week after Sir Edward's funeral, a private inquiry agent named Nicholas Brisbane calls upon Lady Julia. It seems that Edward had engaged Brisbane to look into a series of threatening notes sent to him anonymously. Brisbane wants Lady Julia to consider the possibility that Edward may have been murdered. Julia angrily dismisses Brisbane with harsh words, but she eventually comes around to his way of thinking; they both embark on a search for Edward Grey's killer.

What makes "Silent in the Grave" eminently readable and entertaining is not the mystery itself, which proves to be a bit tepid (most mystery buffs will spot the killer long before Lady Julia). The novel shines because of its unusual and varied characters, sparkling and witty dialogue, and the author's sardonic look at the foibles of the upper classes in Victorian England. Lady Julia is a delightful heroine, who gradually changes from an unworldly and timid mouse into a daring and impulsive woman, willing to take risks to learn the truth. Brisbane is a cipher--a dark-eyed and mysterious stranger with a hidden past and a brooding demeanor. His virility and strength of character intrigue the love-starved Julia. Although she dislikes his rough manners, Julia feels an undeniable romantic attraction to him.

Enhancing the the book's colorful atmosphere are the motley group of servants, including Aquinas, a proud and dignified Italian butler, Morag, Julia's personal maid and a reformed prostitute, and Magda, a tormented gypsy whom Julia employs as her laundress. Other characters of note are Aunt Ursula, also known as the Ghoul, who moves into houses of mourning and often stays for as long as a year, and Fleur, a notorious courtesan and close friend of Nicholas Brisbane.

The author touches on such serious themes such as poverty, adultery, and prejudice, but for the most part, "Silent in the Grave" is lighthearted, humorous, and breezy fun. Raybourn satirizes the indolence and decadence of over-privileged Londoners with too much money and time on their hands. Such individuals become self-centered, cynical, and shallow. As Julia says of her late husband, "He liked things that came easily to him--his inheritance, money, me." Even Lady Julia, who is down-to-earth in most ways, is not entirely free of class prejudice, proclaiming, "We were charged with taking care of those to whom our money and our blood made us superior." At over five hundred pages, the book is a trifle long, but the story moves along rapidly and ends satisfyingly. After you finish this fine debut novel, you will be eager to read the second installment in the adventures of the enchanting and spirited Lady Julia Grey.

Shows promise...
London, England, 1886. Sir Edward Grey, a baronet with delicate health, dies during a party. Lady Julia Grey is upset with the passing of her husband, but not surprised. It was bound to happen sooner or later. So why was one of the guests, a Mr. Nicholas Brisbane, eyeing her as if she had been the one responsible for Sir Edward's death? It turns out that Brisbane is a private investigator. Sir Edward had hired him because he had received threatening letters and had feared for his life. Lady Julia refuses to believe Brisbane -- that is until she finds one of the threatening letters. It has been a year since her husband died. Will Brisbane want to help her solve the case? He has no choice but to accept, for Lady Julia is determined to find her husband's murderer at all cost.

This is a wonderful Victorian mystery with some gothic elements. Silent in the Grave is also the startup of a new murder mystery, with Julia and Nicholas as the sleuths. There are many twists and turns here. The mystery itself isn't surprising -- well, at least the murderer isn't, but the clues that gathered certainly are -- but the developments regarding Brisbane and some of the secondary characters are very fascinating. Lady Julia is a unique heroine and you truly feel the voice of a Victorian lady through her narrative. Brisbane is dark, brooding and mysterious -- no doubt inspired by gothic heroes such as Heathcliff and Mr. Rochester -- which makes him quite appealing. The secondary characters are interesting and the whole gypsy thing impressed, especially that the author writes about actual gypsies -- the ones that speak Romany. However, there are things about this novel that will make you want to suspend disbelief.

I'll begin with Julia's family. An eccentric family is good and well in a Victorian gothic, but a father who not only approves of his daughter taking in a lover but actually suggests her to do so? I. Don't. Think. So. Also, there is little historical reference in this book. Raybourn makes no mention of the breakthroughs in technology during the 1880s. She never mentions a telephone or something that had been a recent discovery around that era. Of course, it isn't necessary to mention those things, but why set a novel during the 1870s or 1880s if you'll make no mention of all the wonderful things that transpired during those decades? I am also wondering about Julia's title. To my knowledge, every wife of a baronet has been addressed to as Lady Surname, not Lady First Name. I may be wrong, and if someone knows this for sure, they can leave a comment in the Comments area. It is fine for close family members to address Edward as simply Edward, but others, especially people beneath his rank, would address him as Sir Edward at all times. The book lags in some areas, making it longer than necessary. There is far too much space in between chapters and starting each chapter with "The First/Second/Third Chapter," etc struck me as somewhat silly and pretentious. Other than that, I very much enjoyed this book. Deanna Raybourn is a pretty good writer and this series, in spite of its shortcomings, has a lot of potential. I look forward to reading Silent in the Sanctuary.