Spring Adventure by Molly Clavering

Spring is an enchanting season almost everywhere, whether its approach is hesitant, primrose by primrose, under a grey northern sky, or it comes overnight in a mad tropical rush of growth. She had left Upton St. Clare beaten upon by chill sleety rain which was battering the early fruit-blossom and stripping the trees of their tender leaves. Here in Touraine spring was reigning triumphant. The warm air had already brought a wealth of gay green to wood and meadow, and covered the gnarled black stems of the grapevines with pale leaf-buds.

Spring Adventure, Molly Clavering’s fourteenth and final novel was published in 1962 by Robert Hale Limited. She also wrote a non-fiction book, From the Border Hills, and twenty-four pocket novels that were originally published in serial form in The People’s Friend magazine between 1952 and 1976. There is a lot more information about Molly Clavering to be found on Scott’s blog, Furrowed Middlebrow. Dean Street Press have republished eight of her books, including Yoked with a Lamb which I loved. And thank goodness for that, because if it was not for Scott and DSP, I would likely never have found this author that I have come to love. The books that have not been republished are extremely rare. If you are in the UK, I think the National Library of Scotland would be a good resource to look into.

I was over the moon to get my hands on a copy of Spring Adventure, because, as I said it is extremely rare and because I love Molly Clavering’s writing. Since most writers hone their craft over time, I thought this one might even be her best book. Let’s see if this one lived up to my high expectations. 

Twenty year old Joanna Clay lives in the tiny—“hardly more than a village”—town of Upton St. Clare. At the outset, Joanna is waiting outside of her house for the post to arrive. When it does, she swipes a letter addressed to her, and goes down a quiet lane to enjoy her letter in private. The letter is from Kenneth, the man she has been seeing, but instead of an affirmation of his love, he is breaking it off with her. She has barely had time to process the letter when she runs into Mr. Trevithick who is out walking his wife’s fox-terriers, Bijou and Toutou. This exchange between Joanna and Mr. Trevithick is pure Molly Clavering. It’s funny and perhaps all the more ridiculous because of the contrast between the well-meaning Mr. Trevithick and Joanna’s very real pain. We also find out she christened him Mr. Terrific, very inappropriately, and we find out that this re-naming of people is something she has done with a number of people throughout her life. This provides us with some insight into Joanna’s character early on. She is not normally crying over men—this is the first time—usually she is loving, light hearted, and looking to have fun. 

Back at home, she finds her mother in a state. A letter has arrived from Joanna’s father’s cousin, Nigella Dinwoody. The woman is expected to arrive in time for tea that very afternoon and stay the night.

Miss Nigella Joanna Dinwoody was as imposing as her name. Tall and stately, she towered above Mrs. Clay’s short plumpness in a manner which justified the latter’s complaint that it was like talking to a cathedral to converse with Cousin Nigella. Cathedrals are sometimes breathtakingly beautiful, which Miss Dinwoody was not; sometimes they are majestic, sometimes overpowering, but almost always they are worth looking at, and this Miss Dinwoody certainly was. (15)

Dressed head-to-toe in grey with a “tall and stately” personage, and “long Gothic face”, Joanna describes her cousin as looking like a cathedral. And as odd as it sounds, it was a description that worked for me. I was able to picture Miss Dinwoody better than any other character in this book, including our heroine, Joanna. Whether it is the breakup that left Joanna with more of a devil-may-care attitude, or the blunt honestly of Miss Dinwoody, in this first scene with the two of them we begin to see the strong woman that Joanna is capable of being. She has just turned twenty, but is not employed and still lives at home with a mother who babies her. Miss Dinwoody is planning a research trip to France for the new children’s book she is working on and invites Joanna to come with her as a sort of companion/research assistant. Joanna is shocked, as Miss Dinwoody is a relation that they are not close to and have not visited with much. It seems like Joanna might even turn down the offer.

Then the phone rings. It’s Joanna’s friend Rosamund Wye calling with big news. She’s engaged to none other than Kenneth Quarrinder. The same Kenneth who has just broken up with Joanna by letter. Needless to say, the first thing Joanna does when she extracts herself from that truly nightmarish phone call is to accept Miss Dinwoody's offer to accompany her to France.

As much as this progression makes sense for the plot, my heart fell when I realised this book was going to shift settings. The time Joanna spends out and about in the small town of Upton St. Clare held such promise for colourful characters in a close-knit community where everyone knows everyone else’s business and there are plenty of opportunities for humorous situations. It’s a setting in which Molly Clavering is at her best, and I was a little worried about what taking this show on the road was going to mean for the story. 

Clavering does a great job of describing the French countryside, and we see the effect the change in environment makes on Joanna. But there is quite a small cast of characters in the remainder of the book, really just Joanna, Miss Dinwoody, and three young men. Joanna meets the first man, Richard Severn, crossing the channel, and takes an instant dislike to him because he has caught her crying and acts overly familiar with her. The second man, Gervase Deveron who goes by Tim, she literally runs into while looking for the bathroom at the hotel in Tours. Tim is closer to Joanna’s age and she immediately feels at ease with him, treating him like a younger brother. Richard and Tim turn out to be stepbrothers, though they are not traveling together. Richard, who is a Navy Commander, is on a course arranged by his work to improve his French. While Tim has been traveling around France with a friend named Tony, who is our third man. Of course, the brothers both fall for Joanna.

Besides the concierge at the hotel, a shifty character in an antique shop, and some baddies we meet in the last third of the book, that is all we get of local colour in this one. Unfortunately, we don’t find out much about any of these characters outside of Joanna’s observations of them. All of the main characters are British, and if it was not for the fact that the group had to run into some trouble in a foreign country, because all the baddies in this book are French, the group could have just stayed at home. It is not like there is a shortage of castles and stunning landscape that could have been explored in Scotland. But you know, I think I could have overlooked the disappointing use of setting if it was not for the frightful left turn this book takes two thirds of the way through. But more on that later.

Clavering does as beautiful a job of describing the French countryside as I hoped she would. At one point, Joanna goes on a bus trip on her own to Château d’Azay-le-Rideau, outside of Tours, and Clavering lavishly paints the scenes that go wizzing by the bus window. But it is Joanna’s impression of the landscape that I want to share.

And why was this so different from its English counterpart? It was made up of the same component parts: rivers, fields and woodland, farm and village and church, yet one would never for a moment imagine oneself to be in Kent or Hampshire. Perhaps it was that the light was different, lacking the soft brightness induced by a damper climate? Joanna thought this over for a mile or so, but came to no definite conclusion and turned her whole attention to enjoying the passing pageant. (78)

This passage struck me, because I had a similar thought when I was on a train bulleting its way through the French countryside. It may not look so different from home, but you could never mistake one for the other. In classic Clavering fashion, there are beautiful descriptions of the parkland around the château, but what I am particularly interested in is how setting affects her characters. 

And yet, nothing she had seen could compare with Azay-le-Rideau. Her preference had not anything to do with sense or reason. She was quite ready to admit that Chenonceau, for instance, was more beautiful, but Chenonceau had made its appeal to her eyes; Azay-le-Rideau, the Lovely Place, appealed to her heart. It might have been partly because it was a happy place; the great events of history, so often tragic, had passed it by. Whatever the cause, she had fallen under its mild and gracious spell immediately she had walked in at the gates, and a part of herself would always belong to it. Could one fall in love with a place? For that was what her feeling for Azay was like, as unreasoning and as irresistible. (84)

It is here that she realises that “Kenneth would not fit into the Lovely Place” as she has christened the Château d’Azay-le-Rideau. As she cannot find fault with the place, then the fault must lie with Kenneth. This is how she realises she does not love him anymore. Joanna is pictured on the dust wrapper gazing at the Château d’Azay-le-Rideau. The château and grounds are open to the pubic, and from the photos on their website, it is no wonder Joanna found this an inspiring place.

I’m sharing the blurb from the first page of this book, which is word for word the same as the blurb found on the inside of the front flap of the dust wrapper minus the first word, which in that case is simply, “Spring”. The blurb basically tells you everything that happens in this book right up to the conclusion, minus specifics.

Springtime, in Touraine, ‘the garden of France’: with blue skies, flowering water meadows, the wide Loire flowing by below the historic châteaux ... everything is so different from her Cotswold home that Joanna, suffering from the shock and humiliation of being jilted in favour of her friend Rosamond, finds her wilting self-confidence gradually restored, though she is determined to have nothing more to do with men.

Her elderly cousin Nigella, writer of children's books, who has brought Joanna to France, thinks otherwise but says nothing. Young men ‘bob up’ as Joanna feels, quite unnecessarily, and Cousin Nigella encourages them because she finds them useful. When her interest in history leads Cousin Nigella into strange places, the young men prove very useful indeed; and in the end one of them provides a fitting climax to Joanna's Spring Adventure.

A bit like old movie trailers, which—while enjoyable in their way—make even the best classics sound fairly awful, blurbs on vintage books have a way of making even the best books sound trite. I actually think this blurb does a goodish job of summarising the book. It even hints at something that I didn’t pick up on until after I finished the book and that is the change in tone that I mentioned. The first two thirds of this book are more in the vein of Rosamunde Pilcher’s earlier books than in the Molly Clavering style I am familiar with, that is the writing Clavering was doing between 1936 and 1956. But on page 128 it takes a sharp left turn and becomes a Mary Stewart romantic suspense complete with a kidnapping and a hare-brained scheme the four young adults cook up to go it alone without the help of the police. Then it was an Enid Blyton, with a picnic feast almost immediately after their near death drama. I honestly thought the elderly cousin, Nigella, was not asleep, but dead in the backseat of the car at this point. I was waiting for them to discover the fact in the middle of their scoffing of sandwiches. The final scene was the part that was the most like the conclusion of some of the other Molly Clavering books I have read, which is not terrifically unlike a Rosamunde Pilcher, now that I come to think of it. 

This book was not at all what I was expecting. But you know what I was expecting? More of the same Molly Clavering that I was already familiar with, which, let’s be honest is a bit dim of me. Writers are meant to change and grow their craft over time. If you are lucky as a reader you will grow with them, but sometimes your paths diverge and that’s all right too. This book was not a parting of the ways between Molly Clavering and me. I did have a lot of fun reading it. I will admit that is in part due to the novelty of reading a rare title by a beloved author. But it is also because I will always love Molly Clavering. It does not matter how many eligible bachelors and unlikely occurrences she throws in my way, she will always be a writer of breathtaking landscapes, women who love the outdoors, and hilarious situations, to me. As a whole, this book felt a bit all over the place. It did have bits that were wonderful, but I think Molly Clavering filled the hole in the story that was left by not setting this book in a community with a large cast of characters, by tacking on a high stakes adventure at the end.

As this is not a particularly glowing review, and this book is also a hard one to find, I thought I would end by sharing the Molly Clavering novels that I loved and are readily available. Yoked with a Lamb is full of funny moments and clever dialogue. This one also deals with infidelity in a marriage in a way that I think shows Clavering’s ability to write about topics of more depth with skill. Dear Hugo is one I adored. The epistolary novel is not one that always works for me, but it is done so well in this book. This one does not follow an expected trajectory either, with the main character Sara leading a busy and fulfilling life without a romantic partner. I have greatly enjoyed Susan Settles Down and the sequel, Touch Not the Nettle, too. But I suspect you cannot go wrong with any of the Molly Clavering titles Dean Street Press have republished.  

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Two-Way Murder by E.C.R. Lorac

It was not until I had finished E.C.R. Lorac’s Two-Way Murder and was reading Martin Edwards’ introduction that I learned this was a previously unpublished book. I am putting that at the start of this post because if you are a fan of Edith Caroline Rivett’s writing and had reservations about this one being not as good as her others due to it being published posthumously, fear not! I enjoyed this one perhaps even more than Murder in Vienna, and I did love that one. (You can read my review of that one here.)

On a foggy night in January, just about everyone across the countryside near Fordings is heading to the Prince’s Hall for the annual Hollydown Hunt Ball. Commander Nicholas Brent has offered a ride to Ian Macbane, who is in the area visiting his aunt and uncle. As they pass Hollydown Manor, which was recently sold, the subject of the daughter of the house comes up. Rosemary Reeve disappeared on the evening of last year’s ball and she has not been seen or heard from since. The subject quickly shifts to lighter subjects, including the young women likely to be in attendance. It becomes clear that most of the young men in the area are interested in the young and beautiful Dilys Maine.

Lucky for them, Dilys manages to put in an appearance at the ball. Although she had to sneak out of her father’s house to be there, and must get home before Alice, the family’s loyal and well-meaning servant, gets home. Alice wouldn’t mind her having a bit of fun, but Dilys thoughtfully does not want to put Alice in the position of having to lie to her overbearing and hard to mange employer. Thankfully, Nick Brent has obligingly offered to get her back in good time, and they leave the ball around midnight, setting out on the low road where the fog is not as bad. But the best laid plans do have a way of going wrong, and when Nick and Dilys come upon a corpse that is quite literally blocking the narrow road, things start to go very wrong indeed.

Quick thinker that he is, Nick suggests Dilys head home on foot, while he walks to the nearest house to call the police. Michael Reeve’s place is the closest, but upon arrival Nick realises that Michael must still be at the ball. He gains entry through a kitchen window, and calls the police to report the body. But just as he is hanging up the phone, he hears someone inside the house. He drops his torch in surprise, and just after Nick announces himself, he is set upon. After a violent struggle, his attacker leaves him knocked out and buried under a fallen bookcase.

Sometime before one o’clock, Ian Macbane gets a ride home with Tom Hudson. They too end up taking the lower road because of the fog and come upon Nick’s empty vehicle. They see the body in the road and ascertain the person is dead, when the police arrive. 

Meanwhile, Dilys who has cut across the fields at a run with her dress bundled in her arms, has arrived home safe and sound. She is just getting ready for bed when the phone rings. It’s Alice saying she won’t be able to make it back tonight as another accident is blocking her route. While Dilys is on the phone her father, Mr. Maine, arrives home unexpectedly—he was supposed to be away for the night—looking “not only tired” but “gaunt and strained and dirty” with “a stain down one side of his face” and collar “crumpled and awry” (37). He is angry that Alice isn’t there with Dilys, and he says something about how Alice should have called earlier. Mr. Maine tells her to go to bed as it’s almost midnight. But Dilys knows it must be almost half past one at this point. She also knows her father wears a watch and is always aware of the time. Why would he want her to think he had arrived home earlier than he did? 

Speaking of the Maines, I love their servant, Alice. She is smart, methodical, speaks her mind, and looks out for Dilys as a mother or older sister would. She is certainly more effective in influencing Dilys than her father. A day or two after the incident, Nick calls up Dilys and asks if she would like a cocker spaniel from his dog’s litter, even offering to pick her up, and save her a cold walk over the downs. Dilys tells Alice about the phone call and Alice’s reply is classic her. 

“Has he indeed? Those pups are worth a lot of money—no end of prizes that bitch of his has won. They say he knows more about dogs than any of the vets do.” She looked at Dilys with her shrewd blue eyes. “All the same, maybe it’d be better not to go traipsing over there just yet. If he’s promised you a pup, he’ll keep it for you, all right. Wait a week or so, until there’s not so much backchat being handed round.” (115)

Alice suggests Dilys wait a bit to get the dog, cites the reason behind her thinking, but allows Dilys to come to her own decision. Seeing the logic behind Alice’s thinking, Dilys agrees with her. Alice is a smart woman, smarter than she lets on. This isn’t the only moment that she says a partial truth for a desired result where the full truth might have the opposite effect. 

Inspector Waring from the County C.I.D. is tasked with investigating the case. I believe Waring’s Divisional Detective Inspector, Thorn, comparison of Waring with the other officer investigating the case could equally apply to Alice.

Turner, routine-minded, concrete, his feet firmly on the ground, his method based on the ascertainable details of police evidence—times, places, prints, and all the rest of it: the methods which, admittedly, had been the foundation of police work since the force was inaugurated. And Waring— imaginative, aware, sensitive: able, by some odd quirk of his lively mind, to obtain confidences and acquire impressions which were beyond Turner’s scope. Thorn had to admit, from past experience, that Waring had a lively and unexpectedly sound judgement over people of whom his observation had been of the slightest: when Waring had said, “Seems to me there’s a connection somehow; so-and-so was being cagey…” it had often proved that there was a connection, and later in the case Waring had produced some unexpected observation which showed that his logical powers had not been in abeyance while he soaked in awareness of human nature.

“Makes you wonder what is the basis of detection, after all,” pondered Thorn. “Timetables or human nature? After all, criminals are human and maybe young Waring’s getting back to basic detection. They ought to make a good pair, Turner with his conscientious routine, Waring with his awareness of humanity.” (112-13)

And the two do make a good team. Waring reminded me a bit of the detectives in Anthony Berkeley’s Not to be Taken. Lorac does not turn her detective into a figure of fun, but Waring does seem to have a way of making people feel comfortable. Like Alice, Waring has the talent for knowing how to get the result he wants from people. But unlike Alice, Waring is a detective and most people do not offer up information to him, whereas people actively seek Alice out to share a gossip. 

I had such a great time with this one. Getting to read Martin Edwards’ introduction afterwards was an added treat.

The writing is crisp, despite the fact that editing must have been minimal. The author’s name on the cover sheet is “Mary Le Bourne”—evidently a pun on “Marylebone”—and the police detectives in the story are not the investigators familiar from the Lorac and Carnac series. The setting on the south coast of England is also something of a departure from the backgrounds to most of her post-war novels. Was she trying to write a different type of detective story? Might she have had in mind a distinct series featuring Waring, the likeable police officer who solves the puzzle? The answer to both questions may well be yes. (vii)

The British Library did not have a copy of the manuscript of Two-Way Murder because it had not been published. If it was not for the typescript copy supplied by James M. Pickard, this novel could very well be undiscovered still. 

I highly recommend this one to fans of classic crime with a rural setting. It would make a perfect winter read. Though, I must admit, it’s one I would welcome rereading at any time of year.

(I just wanted to note that I have linked to the UK edition of Two-Way Murder, which is published by British Library Publishing, not the American edition by Poisoned Pen Press, which is the one that I borrowed from my library and is pictured in these photos. The editions are slightly different sizes and the covers have different textures, but the contents are the same.)

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. I recommend Blackwell’s because I use them myself. This helps support me in sharing—what I hope is—valuable content. Thank you for your support!

Murder in the Basement by Anthony Berkeley

Anthony Berkeley’s 1932 novel, Murder in the Basement, starts with every homeowner’s worst nightmare. A newlywed couple discovers a corpse buried in the basement of their new home. With little to go on, the police must identify the body of a young woman, who died from a gunshot wound, and has been underground for about six months. As each clue is investigated, they lead to one dead end after another, and it becomes increasingly apparent that this is going to be a near impossible case to solve. 

I won’t go into what clues leave the police empty-handed, because I think the early work on the investigation makes for very interesting, and exciting reading. Chief Inspector Moresby, the detective in charge of the investigation, refuses to lose heart. There is no lead too insignificant for him to investigate. But finally he gets the break he needs and through that clue he whittles the number of women who could be the victim from an unlimited number, to 641, then to 422. He has the help of local detectives across the country in following up on each woman on his list to make sure they are either still alive and well, or have died by natural causes. Still, the search takes months. The body was found in January, and it isn’t until June that Moresby has one name remaining on the list, last known whereabouts a boarding school for boys in Allingford called Roland House.

This is when he approaches, Roger Sheringham, a writer and amateur sleuth who has assisted Scotland Yard in cases in the past. Roger recently took the place of a master at Roland House who was ill. This seemed to me to be one of the least likely coincidences in the book. I have to remind myself at times that I am reading a novel, and if I’m hoping to find realistic scenarios in police work perhaps I should be reading the news instead. Roger admits the fill-in work for his friend was not entirely altruistic.

“The truth was that I’d been contemplating a novel with the setting on an English preparatory school and wanted to collect a little local colour, but that’s between ourselves.” (50)

Well, he has written a manuscript—that is, he wrote a few chapters before putting it aside when he got bored of it. Desperate for any information on the case, Moresby reads the unfinished manuscript. Murder in the Basement is divided into three parts and the manuscript takes up the whole of the second part. One quibble with this is that the chapters of the book continue through the second part where they have no business being, as this section is solely Roger’s manuscript without any sort of framing device. I found it confusing when I started the manuscript, and the chapters did not seem to fulfill any purpose, especially because the manuscript itself is also broken up into sections that I assume are meant to be the chapters that its author, Roger, has put in. Anyway, the manuscript is gripping, but it does go on for 60 pages. I suspect that readers either like the book within a book construct, or they do not. When they are done well and serve a purpose, other than providing the author with a means of impressing the reader with their ability to write like someone else, then I love them. The manuscript is essential to this book and one aspect that simplifies the manuscript for the reader is that the character names Roger used were swapped for the real names of the actual people at the school which the characters are based on. There is a funny moment when Moresby questions Roger about basing his characters on real people. 

“You mean, you used the real people there for your book?”

“Well, of course. One always does that, in spite of the law of libel and the funny little notices some people put in the front of their books to say that all the characters in this story are imaginary. Imaginary my hat! Nobody could imagine a character and make it live. No, all the characters in my manuscript are transcribed as literally and as truthfully as I could manage it from Roland House, and if I give you a key to the changed names you’ll know as much about the staff there as if you’d stayed among them for a fortnight. How’s that!”

“That seems the very thing, Mr. Sheringham. That ought to help me quite a lot.” (52)

There were a couple of things that did not work for me in this one. For one, the newlywed couple whose house the body is found in we never hear from again. The husband discovers the body in the basement, they call the police, after being interviewed, the police suggest they stay with friends or relatives. The couple are escorted by the police to that relative’s home, and we are lead to understand the police keep a man on them, just in case. Though, really we are meant to dismiss them as suspects and forget all about them, as we do, unless you are me and the part that attracted you to this book was the newlywed couple and seeing how they hold up under a murder investigation. The other thing I would have liked is the opportunity to see the conclusion play out. The book is already 250 pages, which is a fine length for a Golden Age mystery—or any mystery for that matter—but another chapter could have done it. I was more interested in Chief Inspector Moresby than in Roger Sheringham, and much to my disappointment, Moresby is left out of the final scenes. There is a quippy ending that I assume is meant to give us a chuckle, and I’m not a huge fan of that sort of thing unless it is really smart. And I’m sorry to say, I don’t believe this one was. The conclusion fell a bit flat for me. I would have liked a more certain resolution, and a more just conclusion. I did feel there was some victim blaming at the end, and as I read over 200 pages of believing this woman was worth having her murderer brought to justice, I was not about to change my mind as we got to know her better. Because every victim of violence deserves to have their attacker brought to justice, no matter how likeable they are. But then, I am probably reading too much into the ending and taking the whole thing a great deal too seriously. I tend to do that. 

So the ending was a bit of a let down for me, but I should add that the actual whodunit aspect was on point. I loved the academic setting, the book within a book structure, and I really liked Chief Inspector Moresby. I did not warm to the author, Roger Sheringham, but I’m not sure we are supposed to. Overall, it was a good read, and I liked the setting enough that I would read it again. But with something like 140 titles in the British Library Crime Classics collection and the fact that I only own about 25 of them, this one is not high on my wishlist. That said, I dream of one day completing my collection, because folks, I have a problem. 

(I just wanted to note that I have linked to the UK edition of Murder in the Basement, which is published by British Library Publishing, not the American edition by Poisoned Pen Press, which is the one that I borrowed from my library and is pictured in these photos. The editions are slightly different sizes and the covers have different textures, but the contents are the same.)

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. I recommend Blackwell’s because I use them myself. This helps support me in sharing—what I hope is—valuable content. Thank you for your support!

The Chianti Flask by Marie Belloc Lowndes

I absolutely loved The Chianti Flask by Marie Belloc Lowndes. This is one I borrowed from my local library, but by the end of the second chapter I had added it to my wishlist. And believe me, I would have bought it immediately if I had not already acquired quite a few books this month. This British Library Crime Classic, which was originally published in 1934, is a book that will keep you guessing, but I found there was also a certain inevitability that made it none the less both atmospheric and compelling.

Laura Dousland is on trial for murder. Accused of poisoning her husband, Fordish. It is assumed that the poison was in the wine Fordish had with his evening meal. The poison itself was thought to be something that a friend of Fordish, Dr. Mark Scrutton, had brought over to the house to help with a rodent issue. Fordish was careful to find out that the poison would painlessly kill rodents. But he also asked Dr. Scrutton if it would be effective on humans too, and the doctor confirmed that it would. 

The damning thing for Laura, and the reason Dr. Scrutton was called to testify for the prosecution, is that this conversation took place in Laura’s hearing. The couple’s servant insists that he put a flask of Chianti on Fordish’s supper tray, but the flask went missing the night Fordish died. That is, if it was ever there at all. The flask never did turn up. Everyone wants to solve what the press are calling, the Chianti Flask Mystery, but Laura would do anything to never hear it mentioned again.

This is not a courtroom drama. Laura is acquitted in the second chapter, but she does not seem as relieved as she should to be found not guilty. Laura is the kind of woman that everyone wants to look after. Men flock to her and women seem drawn to her too. Although, some do just seem to want the inside scoop about her trial and to discuss what she thinks happened to the missing Chianti flask. It isn’t surprising that she wants to get away from everyone she knows and leave the past behind. But at the same time, she is hesitant to cut ties as dramatically as her old employers suggest, by moving to one of the colonies. 

As the book goes on we see that Laura’s relationship with her friends, the Haywards, is complicated by the fact that she was governess to their daughters before marrying the Haywards’ friend, Fordish Dousland. Fordish was taken with Laura, but Laura declined his offer of marriage numerous times before finally accepting him. It was Mrs. Hayward who urged Laura to accept Fordish, because, as she pointed out to Laura, a single woman without family or money of her own may not get many offers. Mr. Hayward was less encouraging of the match. But Mrs. Hayward got her own way, as she generally does. After Laura is acquitted, Mrs. Hayward asks Laura to stay with them at Loverslea for a bit. While Laura does not seem eager to take up the invitation, she does it anyway. She certainly doesn’t want to stay in the house she shared with her husband.

Meanwhile there suddenly rose from the terrace below the half-moon window, sounds of laughing and talking, and to one of the two now in the King's Room, those sounds appeared oh! so strange and unreal. Laura Dousland had not heard people laughing and talking in that light, care-free fashion since she had stayed at Loverslea three years ago. It made her feel even more remote from ordinary human kind than she had felt that morning in her prison cell. (77)

It soon becomes apparent that Laura is not thriving in her new life. Dr. Scrutton sees her—at Mr. Hayward’s request, I might add—and suggests keep to her room for a few days, which is a blessing, because Mrs. Hayward has been expecting that Laura is just going to buck herself up and come down to join the guests that have been invited over for dinner. Honestly, this woman doesn’t have a clue. Laura was in prison that morning and Mrs. Hayward is worried that Laura is going to ruin her dinner party. If there was anyone in this book who I would have gladly seen get bumped off, it’s the controlling Mrs. Hayward. Our author is kinder to her than I.

Alice Hayward had not known she was being hideously cruel. Indeed she was, in actual fact, a truly kind woman. But she, Laura Dousland, in that unreasonable, as those who have been flayed alive are no doubt apt to be, felt that she would give years of the life she had long valued but lightly, never to see that kind woman again. (123)

I couldn’t agree more, Laura! But we do have Mrs. Hayward to thank for something. It is, in part, the mutual dislike of this woman that brings Dr. Scrutton and Laura together.

“You must stay on in bed till I give you leave to get up; and I hope you will see as few people as possible.”

He had come close up to her by now, and all at once a quick look of secret understanding flashed between them. Each was thinking, and each knew that the other was thinking, of Alice Hayward. (80)

He even offers to tell the Haywards that Laura has been forbidden to talk for the next three days. But Laura persuades him not to do that. She claims, “Mrs. Hayward has been wonderfully good to me” and being able to talk to them is “the only way I can prove how grateful I am to them” (80). Laura does have a point. These people have taken her into their home and tried to do right by her, but I found her constant willingness to be submissive to other people’s wishes, even to the detriment of herself, did start to annoy me.

Thank goodness, Dr. Scrutton—who we will refer to as Mark from now on, as he and Laura are soon on a first name basis—offers to lend her his cottage so she can have a proper rest. Mark proves himself to be a dependable doctor and friend to Laura, and continues to show up for her. You know he is going to fall in love with her too. I don’t think that spoils any of the plot, because you can see his feelings for her from early on. We should all be so lucky as to have a person like Mark in our corner.

The Chianti Flask starts in early summer, and ends in the early autumn. While it isn’t a particularly seasonal book, I did enjoy reading it this time of year when we are enjoying some warmer weather. As far as I am concerned, this one of the standouts in the British Library Crime Classics collection. I loved how this book was constructed with Laura’s acquittal at the beginning. It feels like it starts at the end, but it is really just the beginning for Laura. From the start, this book reminded me a lot of Frances Iles’ Before the Fact, not in content or premise, but in feeling. (You can read my review of Before the Fact here.) The Chianti Flask kept me wondering what the truth really was and if I was missing some vital clue that was yet to be revealed. The author creates this amazing tension with such a subtle and deft hand. I would love to read more by Marie Belloc Lowndes. I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed that the British Library republish a few more of her books before too long. 

(I just wanted to note that I have linked to the UK edition of The Chianti Flask, which is published by British Library Publishing, not the American edition by Poisoned Pen Press, which is the one that I borrowed from my library and is pictured in these photos. The editions are slightly different sizes and the covers have different textures, but the contents are the same.) 

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