My Dears,
Two years ago I sat in a drafty, crumbling castle, ignored by my degenerate husband the Earl of Dunbridge, who had managed to spend my entire dowry in his recent exploits. Little did I know that the Earl would soon come to an ignoble but timely end, and I would be sailing for my new life in New York City.
Yes, my friend, I crossed the pond. Philomena (Phil to my friends) Hathaway Amesbury, Dowager Countess—I abhor that title. No one a mere titch on the wrong side of twenty-five should be called Dowager. And a penniless dowager to boot.
With more than a few slight, harmless indiscretions of my own, what could I do but tit for tat? American young ladies come to England to marry a title; I would come to America to make my fortune. Not through marriage I assure you. I intend never to marry again, but I don’t see why I shouldn’t have some fun, and make a little money while I’m at it.
My detectival career conveniently began on my arrival at the docks in Manhattan. Lucky for me, though not to him, my dear friend Bev’s husband was found shot in the back seat of his new yellow Packard automobile, his head in the lap of his mistress, one of the famous Floradora girls.
Much has happened since then. Once the news travelled through certain circles of upper Manhattan society that not only could I solve crimes, but that I could do it while keeping the involved family’s reputation intact and their skeletons firmly locked in the closets where they belonged—And that I was totally discreet while doing it—I became on overnight success.
Of course, I do have a little help from Detective Sergeant John Atkins, who looks as if he stepped right off the cover of a dime novel. He’s one of the few honest policeman left over from the days of Roosevelt’s reforms. He doesn’t care much for what he calls my “Meddling,” but meddling, as he well knows, isn’t a crime.
And of course there is Mr. X. I don’t actually know his name which makes his presence and sudden disappearances all the more scintillating. And I have to admit that I don’t really know what he looks like, considering he always appears—and disappears—in disguise. Let’s just say I could recognize him in the dark with my eyes closed with no trouble at all, if you understand my meaning.
We both work for someone or some group that has been kept secret from me thus far. But since they pay for my comfortable and somewhat lavish apartments in the Plaza Hotel and keep my bank account well above disaster level, I’m willing to do my part for my adopted country. I’m almost certain they have something to do with the government.
My latest outing certainly required the help of my associates as well as my ladies maid, Lily, and my faithful butler, Preswick. We make a good if somewhat improbable team—I might even say “family.”
I returned home from Christmas shopping on Fifth Avenue to find a message thrust under my door. Theatre Unique. 1:15. Last row.
I was late naturally since I wasn’t at home to receive the message. By the time I did get down to the Union Square theater, I was of course, too late. Not knowing who the victim was, or why I was rushed out of the theatre by someone who said he was the manager, there was only one thing to do.
Call Bev, who just happens to have gone to Vassar with a friend who is now a society writer for the New York Times. What ensues is a dastardly plot set against the festivities of Christmas in the City and the first ever Times Square New Years Eve lighted ball descent from the Times roof.
Murder during the holidays? Really something had to be done. And I was happy to oblige.
A Resolution At Midnight is the third book in the ” Lady Dunbridge” historical mystery series, released October 13, 2020.
Miss Fisher meets Downton Abbey in this critically acclaimed mystery series from New York Times bestselling author Shelley Noble.
Roasted chestnuts from vendor’s carts, fresh cut spruce trees lining the sidewalks, extravagant gifts, opulent dinners, carols at St Patrick’s Cathedral, a warm meal and a few minutes shelter from the cold at one of the charitable food lines . . .
It’s Christmas in Gilded Age Manhattan.
And for the first time ever an amazing giant ball will drop along a rod on the roof of the New York Times building to ring in the New Year. Everyone plans to attend the event.
But the murder of a prominent newsman hits a little too close to home. And when a young newspaper woman, a protégé of the great Jacob Riis and old Vassar school chum of Bev’s, is the target of a similar attack, it is clear this is not just a single act of violence but a conspiracy of malicious proportions. Really, you’d think murderers would take a holiday.
Something absolutely must be done. And Lady Dunbridge is happy to oblige in A Resolution at Midnight, the third book in this best selling series.
About the author
Shelley Noble is the author of the Lady Dunbridge Gilded Age mysteries beginning with Ask Me No Questions, and The Newport Gilded Age mysteries. As Shelley Freydont she has written several amateur sleuth series.
She is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of nine novels of women’s fiction. Whisper Beach and Beach Colors, were Amazon and Nook bestsellers. The latest, Lucky’s Beach, was published in June 2020.
A former professional dancer and choreographer, Shelley lives at the Jersey shore where she indulges her passion for lighthouses and vintage carousels.
For more about Shelley, please visit her at shelleynoble.com, on Facebook, and on Instagram.
All comments are welcomed.