I like the saga and the coming of age of the steam engine. It marked such a huge departure from horse-and-buggies and was the precursor of so many changes in travel and comfort. So, I was excited about this book, the ninth in the Beatrice Hyde-Clare series.
The previous book was disappointing. This one is a step up, but still disappointing. I can’t—quite—put my finger on why, and I find that vexing. Beatrice, now the Duchess of Kesgrave, is again hot on the trail of a killer, her faithful husband, the duke, at her side. Their wordplay is still fun and immensely satisfying. But…something is lacking. I don’t believe it’s the patina of their relationship dulling. I think it isn’t the now distinct patterns of behavior that are always followed in these books. And I don’t accept that the characters are becoming jaded themselves. Still, something is off.
In this installment, we pick up where the last book left off. Aunt Vera agrees to accompany the Dowager Duchess of Kesgrave to a funeral in the duke’s stead and Beatrice is presented with a deeply perplexing anomaly. Could it be that her entire belief system, concerning her aunt, is wrong? We spend several pages on this, and it is pretty astounding given that her view of Aunt Vera has been fundamental in each of the previous eight books.
As she promised Aunt Vera, Beatrice visits her old home to check on her uncle, Flora, and Russell. The visit culminates in a visit to a demonstration of a high-pressure steam engine, something that would not have been allowed had Aunt Vera been present. And, at the demonstration, there is an ominous explosion. The high-pressure steam engine blows up.
There is a sequence after the explosion that had me going back and forth across a couple pages. Beatrice is walking around in shock. “…she took a step toward the building, then another step and another until she was halfway across the yard.” Then, to get under a plume of smoke, “she ducked down.” Then… "The wind changed directions, and she rose to her feet….” She was never off her feet. I thought maybe I missed a part where she fell, but no. The rising to her feet feels like a leftover phrase from an edit.
Another equally small issue is with the distance between a carriage and front door. After the explosion, Bea is escorted to her front door by her cousin Russell, although “the distance was barely a full yard….” I can’t think Ms. Messina is thinking of the yard (three-foot) measurement since a carriage would not be driven so close to an edifice. Perhaps a yard as in a place in front of a house? I don’t know, but it made me pause. Later, Bea watches Russell “skip down the steps” outside the house, surely more than three feet?
I do have to say that I am weary of Beatrice’s constant self-deprecations. I hope it stops sooner than later. It’s understandable to an extent. She’s lived under constant disapproval all her life and then a duke falls head over heels for her…but still…at some point she’s got to look around and admit that she’s not a sad little woman. Here, she’s musing over herself, “And yet, for all her lumpishness….” Really? She’s a lump? And, “Accustomed to the best of everything, he (the duke) had grown bored of perfection.” And that’s why he’s with her, or so she seems to believe. And this self-dismissiveness goes on and on and on. It’s become much too much.
Beatrice’s cousin, Russell, is growing up and becoming a man. It is interesting seeing how different he is when out from under his mother’s (Beatrice’s Aunt Vera) thumb. Flora remains pretty much the same, meaning she is still the most annoying character in the series. I dislike her interference in Beatrice’s investigations. I’d much rather read about the duke and Beatrice. Flora is too over the top. Beatrice’s uncle seems to be growing kinder towards Beatrice and that’s a relief after all the neglect he heaped upon her for years, allowing his wife (Aunt Vera) to ride roughshod over Beatrice.
There seem to be more modern intrusions into the Regency period in this book. In chapter 7, Bea says to her husband, “Aw, Damien, you are not senile after all.” Aw…? Really. I cannot hear a woman of that time period saying “Aw.” This interjection was first noted in 1888, well beyond this book’s timeframe.
There’s also the use of the word, lobster-box, and its first usage (according to OED) is in 1833 by writer, Michael Scott. If this book is set in the Regency era (1811-1820) then the term is not yet in use. If the book is set in the late Georgian period (through 1837), then it’s possible that the term was in use. It still jars, however.
In this story, Beatrice makes several wrong deductions and doesn’t seem to care what her accusations may do to the falsely accused. She seems more strident now. The pleasant banter between the duke and Beatrice is still a joy to read although there appears to be less and less of it. In this book, it is easy to forget that the duke is even present, he disappears so adequately from every scene he’s in with Beatrice.
Beatrice also goes off into her head and thinks about all sorts of things in the middle of her investigations. It used to be an interesting way to bring up new information and to show how Beatrice thinks, but it’s gotten old and is now irritatingly intrusive. There’s action going on and we have to sidebar to read Beatrice’s ruminations.
There are very few errors. Here is one: “…by even having the temerity even to suggest it.” That’s one too many “evens,” I think.
I rated this book 3 stars because I still love the Beatrice and Damien characters, the Duchess and Duke of Kesgrave. One of the reasons it did not get a higher rating is because it is too easy to put down and walk away from. I took over a month to read it – I kept setting it down to read other books. I always returned to it, though. I liked the steam engine controversies. I hope the next book will highlight the duke more; he really has gotten lost in the stories. He’s becoming so forgettable and that’s a mistake. He’s a fascinating character and we need to see more of him. I will definitely read the next installment; I’m totally hooked.