A HIDCOTE MIDSUMMER MYSTERY
In this excerpt, the author, English writer Alasdair Douglas Reid, introduces us to his new soon-to-be-published mystery novel, which The PJ believes is destined to be a run-away best-seller. Think Agatha Christie knocking off a few of the Downton Abbey crowd. In the mix are a few historical figures such as, for one, that mid-20th century 'mystery man,' Henry "Chips" Channon, none other than pre-War Society's 'Lord of Hosts.' Sit back and enjoy.
By ALASDAIR DOUGLAS REID
Friday, 26 June, 1936. A sultry evening in late June is, Classen had been told, the very best time to make Hidcote’s acquaintance. Towards sundown in high summer, in the heart of England , the deepest, darkest heart of England , Hidcote begins drawing the day around itself – manor house, garden, hamlet and tree-lined lane, tight in the fields and the woodlands beyond.
And this was, indeed, a sultry evening in late June.
But as he dressed for dinner, Classen felt no inner glow. He felt, in point of fact, uninspired. He wasn’t chafing at the ill-defined nature of his mission. Not entirely, at any rate. He didn’t, in the normal course of events, mind being roped into these sorts of things. There were no other places he was meant to be. He had no other plans.
Nor did he much mind the fact that he had been given this Spartan little room up under the eaves.
And yet. If summer is the silence that follows spring, he could feel it all around, he could sense its most profound depths. His reflection in the blistered silver of the mirror they had given him was clouded and ghost-like.
Downstairs, as he crossed the hall, the air seemed stale, the light uncertain. A stuffed owl stared out at him from a glass case. And he too almost succumbed to gloomy thoughts.
But then the double doors facing him were thrown open. And he smiled, almost despite himself. The lights were not yet lit; but there was a vividness about the room within. It was all somehow as it ought to be. And it was as if he had stood here a hundred times before. Here they all were: Norah Lindsay and her daughter, Nancy; the polo star Jamie Waterbury; Country Life magazine writer Dorothy Moore; Henry Channon; Mr and Mrs Muir from neighbouring Kiftsgate Court; and, of course, Major Johnston and his assistant, Miss Marsden. Mrs Merrill, too. She was, as promised, on hand to introduce Nicholas Classen to the drawing room for drinks before dinner.