I've never been completely disappointed in an Anne Perry book, but this book had what I consider to be more flaws than any other book of hers that I've read (and I've read everything she's ever published, multiple times). Still, I liked a lot of things about it.
Likes:
Charlotte and Thomas Pitt are comfortable together, but they have realistic disagreements and misunderstandings that can happen to any devoted couple from disparate backgrounds. Particularly amusing was how Thomas reacts to the "news" that their daughter, Jemima, is maturing, and how Charlotte both understands and helps Jemima navigate the emotional minefield that being fourteen is. Particularly poignant are the feelings of both parents when they consider that the terrible rapes of other young women could someday happen to their daughter despite their commitment to doing what is wise to keep her safe.
Victor Narraway navigates the territory of the forcibly "retired" person with a balance of irritation at his position and willingness to use its new advantages to do good and both exercise and develop his powers of detection in a new milieu.
Aunt Vespasia seems more than ever to be Anne Perry's own alter-ego. She is wise, funny, courageous, compassionate, vulnerable, and witty; she is also beautiful in her old age and wears the most marvelous clothes and jewels! She is resourceful and intelligent, understanding and forward-thinking. She is very nearly perfect.
The mystery uses Thomas Pitt's position as head of Special Branch to move the detection forward in a realistic way, and it incorporates the current political events of the run up to the Boer War as important parts of the solution to the crime, a tactic that I think is part of how Anne Perry successfully evokes the era.
The twists and turns of the solution were well done. I wasn't in any doubt as to who was ultimately responsible for the crime after the first few interviews, but the "how" and "why" were satisfyingly devious, and the proof impossible to predict until the climax.
Problems:
The plot seemed like one that Anne Perry might have assigned to her other Victorian series easily. The elements of using an essentially private detective helped by the woman in his life, a little help from an officer whose position he once had, a trial with a brilliant lawyer who can spin out a "nothing" defense for an entire day--surely these are choices that belong to Monk & Hester, with Runcorn and Rathbone to help? But here they are Narraway & Vespasia helped by Thomas and Charlotte Pitt, and a lawyer we've just met who must be looking at the now-late-middle-aged Rathbone somewhere offstage and copying him. It blurs the distinctions between the two series for me, making them somewhat redundant.
The approach to the social ill: Anne Perry has made an entire career out of writing brilliantly about contemporary problems set in the Victorian era, and approached by the Victorian mindset. This does not seem to be completely the case here, but I'm being subjective. Still. Where it jars me is in the scene where Jemima asks at the dinner table what a rape is, and the parents don't seem to get upset the way I'd expect. They even discuss it somewhat, in front of their 11-year-old son who we presume has never even heard the word and may know extremely little about biology at this point. When we have mid-twentieth century parents still uncomfortable with their children's direct questions, I am skeptical about how forward-thinking Thomas and Charlotte are, or did their author just allow them a little too much modernism for the era? I expected them to tell Jemima something like, "That is a subject we should discuss later, not at the table," and then Charlotte takes Jemima aside and Thomas has a little chat with Daniel--maybe the same things are said, but not at the table in mixed company, not in the Victorian era.
I don't think Victorians used the word "rape" much, but I could be wrong. I read a lot of Victorian lit, and whenever this comes up, the euphemisms are thick. I mean, this is the society that didn't even say the word "leg"; they said "limb" instead and covered up the piano legs as being somehow indecent. I've seen the word "ravished" and the euphemism that Anne Perry does use, that of a "personal attack." The other word I have seen is "rapine," not "rape" despite the title of the Shakespearean poem, "The Rape of Lucrece."
I do not think we have progressed enough as a society to be able to look at the idea of the woman somehow being to blame as being totally wrong. This issue is extremely timely--in 2013 we have teenagers passing out and being raped at parties, and too many online comments blame them. Such attitudes are straight out of the Victorian era, which I think of as an age of extreme sexual repression and a materialistic attitude that overvalued physical chastity almost to the exclusion of mental virtue, where "good" females are physically untouched except by their husbands: therefore, any female who gets raped is not "good." That horrible attitude is present in Perry's book, but not prevalent as I think would have been the case. All of the characters whose points of view we care about have the attitude that I think of as enlightened and modern, that the woman never deserves it, that she is essentially unchanged as far as her intrinsic value is concerned, and that the crime is not about sex but about power. While I hope that there WERE some of the enlightened among those Victorians, I would have found this book more realistic for the era if there had been scenes where an enlightened person had an in-depth philosophical discussion with those who hadn't really thought things through, or with someone wondering what to think about their daughter who suddenly is in the category they had always thought of as being "bad."
Instead, there is a scene designed to show off Charlotte's wit, when she attends a party given by her sister Emily and there scores off a woman with the wrong attitudes. There are other scenes where Pitt, Narraway, and Vespasia present the unified Anne Perry message. Even at the trial, there's an unspoken agreement that Catherine did not deserve the violence she received, and I would have expected in the all-male bastion of the courts of that era, the more chauvinistic attitude would have been present with a wink and a nod. As it stands, the modern message is presented in blanket fashion, and it keeps me from feeling that I'm reading an historical account, something I've not experienced before in an Anne Perry book.
The one attitude toward rape that I thought fit with the time is the one that considered an unmarried woman ruined if she were raped. Certainly that attitude still prevails among some religious communities, but most of the Western world has gotten beyond that now. I still remember when it prevailed, though. "Better dead than defiled" was something I learned with horror from some of my teen friends. I found out later from my own parents that that was completely wrong in their books. In this book, I expected that to be such a strong attitude that neither Alice nor her parents would ever have agreed to pursue justice in the case. Even today that's a hard decision for some women and their families, not always because she feels "spoiled" in some way, but because it's such a complete violation of her intimate, private life that she has to possess a strong character to allow the general public to have those details about her. Elizabeth Smart comes to mind--what a courageous woman she was, and what a great example to many, but bear in mind that she stands out as a guiding example in the 21st century, not the 19th.
***SPOILER ALERT***
I am going to talk about the things that will definitely spoil the mystery, so don't read on unless you don't care or have read it.
Considering further the ways in which this book seemed to be a Monk series book using Pitt series characters, I thought the political hook here was tacked on. Quixwood did not have to use investment in the diamonds and gold of South Africa; had this been written as a Monk book, any other Victorian-era British empire investment would do as well. With the empire stretching around the world and gaining in power especially during the Monk series years, there were surely plenty of opportunities for investment fraud to be perpetrated. The revenge of the villain was key to the plot; he says himself that it was important to ruin his rival, but that if the South African idea didn't work, he'd simply wait and use the next opportunity that came along. It undercut a big portion of the atmosphere--if the whole Jameson raid was irrelevant except in an opportunistic sense, then why include it at all?
Another problem with using this plot in a Pitt book is the way it makes characters blur into each other. The detective work is performed by Narraway, Vespasia, Pitt, and Charlotte. The work that Vespasia does is left very sketchy. We don't know to whom she spoke, what occasions she used, nor what she said. We are simply told that she got the information and that rumor began to spread. When she finds out from Flaxley whether Quixwood is lying about his wife's character, we don't get to see the scene--again, it's reported. Do all detective conversations sound the same or are we simply being cheated out of seeing the differences in detection by different personalities? Any scene in which Charlotte did any detecting could have been done by Vespasia, and vice versa. When did they become interchangeable?
Except for Pitt asking for a stay of execution from the Home Secretary, most of his work could have been done by Narraway himself. But this was a Pitt book. Pitt is supposed to be the main character in a Pitt book, but in this book, he plays second to Narraway. I think it would have been better to give this book to Monk, who has his own series and could easily have played the Narraway role. In a Monk book, Rathbone might have been able to influence someone enough to get the stay of execution, if necessary, although it looked like after they all trapped Quixwood and Forsbrook, they had the necessary evidence to overturn the case against Hythe before the execution anyway.
I would have liked to see Thomas Pitt in a book that centers on the abuse of power, a minor issue in his role in this book. It was a throwaway here--Pitt almost succumbs, but he changes his mind at the last minute. It all takes place within the time of a cab ride.
The one issue that would not have easily transferred to a Monk book was the immediacy of the case to the Pitts, considering their feelings as their daughter and son are maturing. I liked that aspect very much in this book, and maybe that's why Anne Perry decided it had to be a Pitt book after all. But it's a flawed Pitt book in my opinion.