When our lovely hostess, Dru Ann, asked me about my typical day, I sat down with a cup of tea and gave the matter some serious thought. “Typical” is a term that has lost much of its meaning in recent years—since the Great War swept through Europe. My life thus far has passed in three distinct phases: Before the War, During the War, and After the War.

Before the war, I was still quite young and not “out” in society as they say, but even so I recognized a rhythm to life that involved guests regularly coming and going from our country estate; seasons spent in London; shopping the last fashions in Paris each spring; autumn hunting parties (I was an especially good rider as a child; now however, the horses are long gone, having been sent to serve in the early years of the war); balls, soirees, charitable events . . . well, you get the idea. In short, life for my family was one of enjoyment, tradition, and yes, indulgence. In our defense, we did employ a good many people and oversaw the wellbeing of many more still.

Then the war happened. A typical day for me during those years involved organizing medical supplies, rolling bandages and making splints, gathering blankets and the like to be shipped to our soldiers on the Continent. I learned to drive the lorries and helped transport those supplies to the train depot. Often working side by side with our servants and women from the village (most of the men had all gone to fight) I felt useful, a vital part of the war effort. My activities mattered. I mattered.

And then, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, 1918, the war came to its conclusion. A joyful day, yes, but suddenly those of my class were left to wonder how we could ever go back to the way life had been in the before times. So much changed. The old notions of boundaries and birthright have become blurred. No longer content to farm or enter service, country people are moving to the cities, bettering themselves, and improving their lives. With enough courage and determination, even women can build a life beyond home and children—and in many cases, they must, for nowadays there aren’t enough men left to go around.

As to how I currently spend the days . . .

I’m still collecting supplies, now for injured veterans of the Great War and their families. I am involved in the running of the nearby Haverleigh School for Young Ladies. And, upon occasion, my lady’s maid, Eva, and I assist local law enforcement in tracking down malicious individuals’ intent on disturbing the peace of our lovely Cotswolds village, Little Barlow.

On the surface, it might not appear as though my life is so very different. We’re by no means poor, but extravagances are by necessity fewer than they used to be. And the future of Foxwood Hall—the house, gardens, forests, and tenant farms—which had once seemed a predetermined certainty, now hangs in the balance. Will my young brother be able to hang onto it once he inherits? That depends on his willingness to find inventive ways to put the estate to work. He, however, feels it depends on my sisters and me marrying men with enough money and inclination to extend hefty loans whenever necessary.

And this, dear readers, leads me to the present day—a chilly day in April, 1920—in West Cowes on the Isle of Wight. In a few short hours, my eldest sister Julia will marry Gilbert Townsend, Viscount Annondale—a man with enough fortune at his disposal to save Foxwood Hall several times over.

Does she love him? She does not. He’s decades older than she, still pines for his first wife, and hobbles with the use of a prosthetic leg and a cane. This last, of course, would be entirely beside the point were it not for his often surly and arrogant disposition and his tendency to treat my sister as though she were but one more trophy gracing the wall of his study. But Julia claims she is content. She is doing her duty to the family and will not be dissuaded. And believe me, I have tried.

And what of me? Will I be the next Renshaw sister to march down the aisle to the beat of tradition’s drum to fill the family’s coffers and maintain the style to which we have become accustomed? What do you think? How well do you know me? And what would you do in my place?


Giveaway: Comment below for a chance to win a copy of A Murderous Marriage in a random drawing. U.S. entries only, please. The giveaway ends January 30, 2019. Good luck everyone!


You can read more about Phoebe in A Murderous Marriage, the fourth book in the “Lady and Lady’s Maid” historical mystery series, coming January 29, 2019.

Lady Phoebe Renshaw and her lady’s maid, Eva Huntford, are preparing for a wedding, but it may not be the happy occasion everyone hopes for . . .

Since the Great War, some family fortunes have suffered, including those of the Renshaws. Despite being the granddaughter of an earl, Julia Renshaw is under pressure to marry for money—and has settled for Gilbert Townsend, a viscount and a wealthy industrialist. He is decades older than Julia, and it’s clear to her sister Phoebe—and to Eva, who has been like a surrogate mother to the girls—that this is not a love match. Nevertheless, the wedding takes place—and in a hurry.

At the reception aboard the groom’s yacht, there appears to be tension between Gil and several guests: his best man, a fellow veteran of the Boer War; his grouchy spinster sister; and his current heir, a nervous young cousin named Ernest. The bride is also less than pleased when she discovers that her honeymoon will be more crowded than expected—with Gil’s pretty secretary, among others, coming along.

That very night, Julia pounds on her sister’s door, brandishing a bandaged hand and reporting a hot-tempered outburst on her new husband’s part. Julia is feeling doubt and regret about her hasty decision, but returns to the boat. Then the next morning, before the yacht can depart the harbor, Gil’s body is found in the water below—and Phoebe and Eva must discover who pushed him over . . . before the Renshaws’ social standing is irreparably stained by Julia’s arrest for his murder . . .

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About the author
Alyssa Maxwell knew from an early age that she wanted to be a novelist. Growing up in New England and traveling to Great Britain fueled a passion for history, while a love of puzzles drew her to the mystery genre. She lives in South Florida in the current year, but confesses to spending most of her time in the Victorian and post WWI eras. In addition to fantasizing about wearing Worth gowns while strolling her manor house gardens, she loves to watch BBC and other period productions and sip tea in the afternoons. You can learn more about Alyssa and her books at alyssamaxwell.com, and friend her on Facebook at her Gilded Newport Mysteries page and her author page.

All comments are welcomed.