Blurb:
“Many
people wear masks. Some to hide their feelings; some to conceal their identity;
and some to hide that most hideous plague of mankind: a sickness in the soul.”
Ashmole Foxe, Norwich bookseller,
man-about-town and solver of mysteries will encounter all of these in this
tangled drama of hatred, obsession and redemption.
This is a story set in the
England of the 1760s, a time of rigid class distinctions, where the rich idle
their days away in magnificent mansions, while hungry children beg, steal and
prostitute themselves on the streets. An era on the cusp of revolution in
America and France; a land where outward wealth and display hide simmering
political and social tensions; a country which had faced intermittent war for
the past fifty years and would need to survive a series of world-wide conflicts
in the fifty years ahead.
Faced with no less than three
murders, occurring from the aristocracy to the seeming senseless professional
assassination of a homeless vagrant, Ashmole Foxe must call on all his skill
and intelligence to uncover the sickness which appears to be infecting his
city’s very soul.
Can Foxe uncover the truth which
lies behind a series of baffling deaths, from an aristocrat attending a ball to
a vagrant murdered where he slept in a filthy back-alley?
Excerpt:
Naturally, all this affability
ended the moment Foxe stepped into the Great Hall itself. Sir Samuel would have
used this as the meeting place to impress his influence and social status on
all his visitors, and on Mr Foxe most of all. Now he received Foxe standing,
his back to a large fireplace with an elaborate alabaster surround. Above him
could be seen the coat of arms of the Valmar family. I may be a man like you,
all this seemed to proclaim, but I am not just your social superior. I am a
Valmar too. Remember that.
The baronet had dressed himself
in a suit of fine brown wool embroidered in gold, over a pale cream waistcoat
sprigged with tiny flowers. From his leather shoes with their golden buckles
and his spotless white silk stockings up to his freshly powdered wig, he was
the embodiment of the rich landowner suffering the attentions of some
troublesome tenant. He was also in a combative mood. He launched his attack at
once and without preliminaries.
‘Say what you have to say, sir,
then get out!’ the baronet barked. ‘I am only suffering your presence because
my wife begged me to do so. According to her, you have some important
information affecting the Valmar family. My family heritage is everything to
me. We Valmars came over with the Conqueror and have been here ever since. In
all that time, no one has dishonoured the family name. No one ever shall, while
I live and breathe. Now, get on with it — and be brief!’
When Foxe had stood before this
man the last time, Sir Samuel had affected an air of complete indifference. Now
all was different. What he wanted was to send this meddlesome tradesman about
his business; preferably with his tail between his legs. By the end of his
opening speech, his face was suffused with red and purple from the effort of
holding his temper in check. Foxe noted how the other man’s breathing was
shallow, his fists clenched tight and his eyes narrowed with fury. He had
expected some such display of temper, but even he was taken aback by the
vehemence of Sir Samuel’s attack. Still, he had determined in advance nothing
would shake his calmness. He therefore replied in a quiet voice, his words
measured and his tone mild and reasonable. To his quiet satisfaction, he
observed immediately how much this gentle manner seemed to inflame Sir Samuel
even more.
Do you ever wish you were someone
else? Who?
No, I don’t think I do. Sometimes
I like to imagine myself living in a different time from now: a time when life
was simpler, manners were better and the world in general was less full of
strife. The sad fact is that no such time ever existed. I write about England
in the 18th century. What we tend to see today are grand mansions full of fine
art, huge estates and parks laid out with no regard for cost and the beautiful
dresses and fine manners of TV and film adaptations of Jane Austen novels. None
of that represents the experience of the vast majority of people at the time.
Life was hard, food often scarce, and the politics of the day just as riven
with factional strife as it is today.
What did you do on your last
birthday?
Nothing special, beyond going out
for a nice meal with my wife. At my age, birthdays are more to be ignored than
celebrated!
What part of the writing process
do you dread?
Getting started! I sometimes
begin the same book four or five times from different angles, searching for the
right way into the story; the way that will catch the reader’s imagination and
make her or him want to read further.
Do you ever suffer from writer’s
block? If so, what do you do about it?
No, I don’t think I ever have
done. My trouble is verbosity, not the inability to write at all.
Tell us about your latest
release.
It's the sixth story in the
Ashmole Foxe series, featuring a wealthy young bookseller with time on his
hands, who has become the person to whom the city authorities turn to clear up
all the more complex and messy crimes in the city. This is a time before police
forces and public prosecutors, so all detection and prosecution of crimes is
down to interested individuals.
“A Sickness in the Soul” is a
story set in the England of the 1760s; a time of rigid class distinctions,
where the rich idle their days away in magnificent mansions, while hungry
children beg, steal and prostitute themselves on the streets; an era on the
cusp of revolution in America and France. The England of the time is a land where
outward wealth and display hide simmering political and social tensions. The
country had faced intermittent wars with several continental countries for the
past fifty years and would need to survive a further series of world-wide
conflicts in the fifty years ahead.
Into this comes a series of
murders in Norwich, which was still the second or third largest city in England
at the time. At the outset, all appear straightforward to unravel. An
aristocrat is killed after a public row at a masked ball; an elderly, reclusive
scholar with a young wife is murdered in his own library; and there is a seemingly
senseless professional assassination of a homeless vagrant. In each case,
everyone looks to Ashmole Foxe to unravel the answers and bring the killer or
killers to justice. Yet, because this is the real world, those answers turn out
to be far messier and more complex than anyone imagines.
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Author Bio and Links:
I started to write fiction as a
way of keeping my mind active in retirement. Throughout my life, I have read
and enjoyed hundreds of detective stories and mystery novels. One of my other
loves is history, so it seemed natural to put the two together. Thus began two
series of murder mystery books set in Norfolk, England.
All my books are set between 1760
and around 1800, a period of turmoil in Britain, with constant wars,
revolutions in America and France and finally the titanic, 22-year struggle
with Napoleon.
The Ashmole Foxe series takes
place at the start of this time and is located in Norwich. Mr Foxe is a dandy,
a bookseller and, unknown to most around him, the mayor’s immediate choice to
deal with anything likely to upset the peace or economic security of the city.
The series featuring Dr Adam
Bascom, a young gentleman physician caught up in the beginning of the
Napoleonic wars, takes place in a variety of locations near the North Norfolk
coast. Adam builds a successful medical practice, but his insatiable curiosity
and knack for unravelling intrigue constantly involve him in mysteries large
and small.
I have spent a good deal of my
life travelling in Britain and overseas. Now I am more than content to write
stories and run a blog devoted to the world of Georgian England, which you can
find at http://www.penandpension.com. You can also follow me on Twitter as
@penandpension.
“Mia?” A deep male voice shouted
to her.
