A Beautiful Blue Death: The First Charles Lenox Mystery

By Charles Finch

Equal parts Sherlock Holmes and P.G. Wodehouse, Charles Finch's debut mystery A Beautiful Blue Death introduces a wonderfully appealing gentleman detective in Victorian London who investigates crime as a diversion from his life of leisure.

Charles Lenox, Victorian gentleman and armchair explorer, likes nothing more than to relax in his private study with a cup of tea, a roaring fire and a good book. But when his lifelong friend Lady Jane asks for his help, Lenox cannot resist the chance to unravel a mystery.

Prudence Smith, one of Jane's former servants, is dead of an apparent suicide. But Lenox suspects something far more sinister: murder, by a rare and deadly poison. The grand house where the girl worked is full of suspects, and though Prue had dabbled with the hearts of more than a few men, Lenox is baffled by the motive for the girl's death.

When another body turns up during the London season's most fashionable ball, Lenox must untangle a web of loyalties and animosities. Was it jealousy that killed Prudence Smith? Or was it something else entirely? And can Lenox find the answer before the killer strikes again—this time, disturbingly close to home?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Jun 26, 2007
• ISBN: 9781429955331

Charles Finch

Charles Finch is the USA Today bestselling author of the Charles Lenox mysteries, including The Vanishing Man. His first contemporary novel, The Last Enchantments, is also available from St. Martin's Press. Finch received the 2017 Nona Balakian Citation for Excellence in Reviewing from the National Book Critics Circle. His essays and criticism have appeared in the New York Times, Slate, Washington Post, and elsewhere. He lives in Los Angeles.

Book preview

An Introduction from the Author

The year I turned either eleven or twelve I received a massive and distinguished hardcover edition of the collected Sherlock Holmes stories. It seemed like literally the worst present anyone had ever received: terrible, but also not cheap, and therefore tragic. That money could have been turned into perfectly good baseball cards.

I was a reader, though, so eventually I did glance inside the book. The first story was okay. The second was interesting. The third was … then I woke up, as if I were coming out of a fever, and realized that I had done nothing for days but read about Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, M.D. When I reached the volume’s last page, I turned back to the first one again immediately—almost involuntarily—and started over.

I read that book to tatters over the next few years. Before long there were stories in it (The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb, The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter) that I knew virtually by heart.

Italo Calvino once said that the boredom of childhood is different, richer and more special than the boredom of adulthood, full of dreams, a sort of projection into another place, another reality. How deeply true that seems to me. As I turned thirteen and then fourteen and then fifteen, a dreamlike kind of England formed in my mind. I got there through reading, as surely as the Pevensies got to Narnia through the wardrobe; in a sense I have never left. The book you’re holding now is set there.

I wrote A Beautiful Blue Death during the summer of 2003. I had never been to England at the time. (Subsequently I lived there, and people often think, incorrectly, that I’m British. Charles Finch, there’s an author by that name, a librarian once said as I was checking a book out. I think you may mean me, I replied, a little red-faced. No, he’s British. I really think you might mean me. No, she said confidently, he’s tall and handsome and British. I waited for her to scan my book, thanked her, and left.)

At the time I was staying with my late grandmother, Anne Truitt. I was at work on a very complex literary novel, which is thankfully now several computers in my past. All my stacks of manuscript pages and legal pads were arranged on her dining room table, my pens, my pencils and erasers, the tools that I had fooled myself into thinking might make me capable of writing a book I wasn’t ready to write.

Every word I produced was agony, I think, in retrospect, because I knew somewhere in the distant depths of my brain that something was wrong.

Then suddenly, one morning, out of nowhere—though really it was out of Conan Doyle, and all his successors in my heart during my adolescent years: Wodehouse, Trollope, Eliot, Dickens, Sayers, Christie—I started to write about a cold London day in 1865. I didn’t know what was going to happen, or why I was doing it. But the words flowed effortlessly, like rainfall over cracked ground after a long dry spell, cathartic and welcome.

I’ve since spent ten books with the character that randomly came to me that day, Charles Lenox, a shrewd, humane, at times melancholy presence in my life. Writing a series is a long journey at close quarters—there have been mornings I couldn’t stand the sight of Lenox, or the friends and family who surround him, McConnell, Lady Jane, Toto, Graham, Edmund. (Conan Doyle briefly killed off Holmes, don’t forget.)

But for the most part I feel only joy in their company. This is in part, I think, because they are good people. Many mysteries, paradoxically, are a way of feeling happier about life. I would include my own among them. Each one has a different surface, a new crime, but the life beneath them is always the same: a man and the people he loves, and who love him, the slow passage of their lives together. Tea, toast, warm fires. When I look at A Beautiful Blue Death now I see easy fixes here and there that I could have made if I’d had more experience. But I also feel the same emotions now as I did on that first morning, the same sense of connection to a past where I wanted to while away my hours, living in their time, in a setting defined by powerful a familial sense of love.

And the mysteries are pretty fiendish puzzles, too, if I may say so myself. It makes me happy to think of some young reader out there getting a set of them for his or her birthday—ticked off, at first, and then drawn by accident into this first tale, then the next, and the next, on and on: into that certain sensation of homecoming and safety that in the whole world of art only a series of many books, written about a single set of people we come to love, can truly give us.

Chapter 1

The fateful note came just as Lenox was settling into his armchair after a long, tiresome day in the city. He read it slowly, handed it back to Graham, and told him to throw it away. Its contents gave him a brief moment of preoccupation, but then, with a slight frown, he picked up the evening edition of the Standard and asked for his tea.

It was a bitterly cold late afternoon in the winter of 1865, with snow falling softly over the cobblestones of London. The clock had just chimed five o’clock, and darkness was dropping across the city—the gas lights were on, the shops had begun to close, and busy men filled the streets, making their way home.

It was the sort of day when Lenox would have liked to sit in his library, tinkering with a few books, pulling down atlases and maps, napping by the fire, eating good things, writing notes to his friends and correspondents, and perhaps even braving the weather to walk around the block once or twice.

But alas, such a day wasn’t meant to be. He had been forced to go down to the Yard, even though he had already given Inspector Exeter what he thought was a tidy narrative of the Isabel Lewes case.

It had been an interesting matter, the widely reported Marlborough forgery—interesting, but, in the end, relatively simple. The family should never have had to call him in. It was such a characteristic failure for Exeter: lack of imagination. Lenox tried to be kind, but the inspector irritated him beyond all reason. What part of the man’s mind forbade him from imagining that a woman, even as dignified a woman as Isabel Lewes, could commit a crime? You could be proper or you could investigate. Not both. Exeter was the sort of man who had joined the Yard partly for power and partly because of a sense of duty, but never because it was his true vocation.

Well, well, at least it was done. His bones were chilled straight through, and he had a pile of unanswered letters on his desk, but at least it was done. He scanned the headlines of the newspaper, which drooped precariously over his legs, and absentmindedly warmed his hands and feet by the large bright fire.

What bliss was there to compare to a warm fire, fresh socks, and buttered toast on a cold day! Ah, and here was his tea, and Lenox felt that at last he could banish Exeter, the Yard, and female criminals from his mind forever.

He sat in a long room on the first floor of his house. Nearest the door was a row of windows that looked out over the street he lived on, Hampden Lane. Opposite the windows was a large hearth, and in front of the hearth were a few armchairs, mostly made of red leather, where he was sitting now, and little tables piled high with books and papers. There were also two leather sofas in the middle of the room, and by the window a large oak desk. On the other two walls there were oak bookshelves that held the library he had collected over the years.

Lenox was a man of perhaps forty, with brown hair still untouched by age. He had been lean in his youth, and now, though he weighed more, he was still a tall thin man who stood erect, though without the uncomfortably ascetic bearing of many tall thin men. He had bright cheeks, a pleasant smile, and a short beard, such as men in Parliament were wont to wear. His eyes were a clear hazel and occasionally betrayed his geniality, for they would sharpen when he was absorbed with an idea or a suspicion.

If at twenty he had been single-minded and occasionally obsessive, at forty he had mellowed and now preferred to sit in front of a warm fire, reading the newspaper with a cup of tea in his hand. He had always loved his friends and his family dearly but took more pleasure in them now. He had always loved his work but allowed himself to be diverted from it more often now. It had simply happened that he had never married, and now he was a thorough bachelor, comfortable company but set in his ways and a good deal more snug at home than in the first ambition of his youth. Lenox hadn’t changed, in his own estimation; and yet of course he had, as all men do.

The tea tray sat on a small side table by his chair, next to a stack of books, several of which had fallen to the floor, where he had left them the night before. The servants had learned by now to leave his library as he left it, except for an occasional dusting. He poured a healthy cup of tea, took a large scoop of sugar and a splash of milk, and then turned his attention to the plate of toast. Graham had thoughtfully added a small cake, which was a rare treat. But then, it had been a trying day.

After several cups of tea, a few pieces of toast, and a slice of the cake, he pushed the tray away with a feeling of contentment, dropped his paper on the floor, and picked up a slim leather volume. It was a recently published edition of The Small House at Allington, which he was reading slowly in order to savor it. Today he would give himself two chapters: another small reward for coping with both Inspector Exeter and the fearsome weather.

Graham came in after a moment to take away the tray.

Excuse the interruption, sir, he said, but will there be a reply to Lady Grey’s letter?

It’s horribly cold outside, Graham.

Indeed, sir?

Really horribly cold. You expect a seal to stroll by you on the street.

Are you warm now, sir?

Yes, a little better. I was only thinking about the cold.

Sir?

Lenox sighed. I suppose I’ll have to go next door, though. There was a pause while he looked glumly into the fire.

To Lady Grey’s, sir? said Graham.

Lenox didn’t respond. He continued to look glum. Finally he said, Yes, to Lady Grey’s. I hate to do it, though.

I’m sorry to hear that, sir, said Graham.

It’s beastly cold outside.

It is, sir.

Lenox looked more and more glum. Can’t be helped, I expect, he said.

No, sir.

Lenox sighed. Will you get my things, then?

Of course, sir, said Graham. Does this mean that you don’t wish to reply—

No, no, no. That’s why I’m going over.

Very good, sir.

As the butler left, Lenox stood up and walked over to the window behind his desk. He had been looking forward to a night in by the fire, but he was being foolish, he thought. It was only a house away. He should put his boots on—they were tossed under his desk, next to an open copy of Much, Ado—and get ready to go. They would be just about dry, he hoped. And in truth he looked forward to seeing her.

Lady Jane Grey was a childless widow of just past thirty, who lived in the next house over. She was one of his closest friends in the world. This had been the case ever since they were children in Sussex. Sir Edmund, Charles’s older brother, had once been in love with Lady Jane, but that was when they were all much younger, when Charles was just out of Harrow and on his way to Oxford.

Lenox and Lady Jane were neighbors on Hampden Lane, living next to each other in a row of gray stone houses on a little slip of an alley just off of St. James’s Park in the neighborhood of Mayfair. As it had been for some time, Mayfair was the most prestigious address in London—and yet he had decided to live there because it was so near St. James’s, where Lenox had gone with his father when he was a child.

The park was surrounded by palaces: Buckingham Palace to the left, St. James’s Palace to the right, and Westminster Palace, more commonly known as Parliament, straight ahead. Like so many parks in London it had begun life as a place for Henry VIII to shoot deer, but Charles II, whom Lenox had always been fond of as a schoolboy, had opened it to the public and had often fed the ducks there himself, where he could talk with his subjects. Only thirty years ago they had changed all the canals into lakes, bred swans on the lakes, and planted beautiful willow trees. People skated there in the winter and walked through the brilliant green fields in the summer, and no matter what season it was, Lenox took a walk through it most nights—at least when he didn’t have a case.

As he looked through the window of his library, Lenox could see the chimneys on Hampden Lane giving off black wisps of smoke, as his own did, and he could see that all of the houses were brightly lighted, and inside all of them tea was either on the table or had just been finished.

He stepped back from his window and told himself that he would see about the note in a few minutes. Perhaps Jane would have another cup of tea for him, at any rate. For now, he picked up the evening paper again and read with great interest, while Graham arranged his things, about the parries that Disraeli and Russell were trading back and forth; for Parliament was just back in session.

Chapter 2

Even his meager boots, which had failed him all day long, were able to carry Lenox a distance as short as next door without his feet getting too wet. He tapped on the door, cheerfully calling out Lady Jane! through a side window.

Among the qualities that made Lenox perhaps the premier amateur investigator of his era was his memory. He could call up in his mind without any trouble crime scenes, people’s faces, and, most easily, notes from his friends. Lady Jane’s note had said:

Dearest,

Would you come over before supper, perhaps at a little past six o’clock? Something has happened. Do come, Charles.

Yours, faithfully, &c.

Jane

After a moment’s worry, Lenox had decided not to be alarmed. Close friends can write such notes to each other over small matters. He grew gradually more certain that it was something usual—one of her nieces was in love with the wrong man, one of her nephews had gambling debts—the sort of thing she always consulted Lenox about.

Lady Jane’s butler was an enormously fat man named Kirk. He had gone into her service when Graham had gone into Lenox’s, and the two butlers had been friends ever since, though Graham gave the impression that he slightly disapproved of Kirk’s gluttony. At Lenox’s knock, Kirk opened the door, looking graver than usual, and led him into the drawing room where Lady Jane sat, waiting alone.

She was a very pretty woman, almost pale, with dark hair, red cheeks, and red lips. Her eyes were gray and often seemed amused, but they were never cynical, and her intelligence shone out of them. She wore her usual white frock top with a gray skirt.

Her husband had been Captain Lord James Grey, Earl of Deere, and they had married when they were both twenty. Almost instantly he had died in a skirmish along the Indian border, and since then she had lived alone in London, though she paid frequent visits to her family, who lived near the Lenoxes in Sussex.

She had never remarried and was considered one of the high rulers of the best part of society. Such was the general respect for her that nobody ever so much as breathed a question about her friendship with Lenox, which was long and very close—perhaps the closest in either of their lives—but admittedly somewhat odd, given the general restrictions that governed the interaction between men and women. Lenox counted on her as the brightest and the kindest person he knew.

The drawing room was Lady Jane’s equivalent of Lenox’s library, and he knew its contents by heart. It was a rather wide room and also looked out over the street. The wall on the right side was covered with paintings of the countryside, and on the far end was a fireplace that reached nearly to the ceiling, with a bronze sculpture of the Duke of Wellington standing on the mantel, to the left of which there was a desk. In the middle of the room was a group of sofas, one of which, a rose-colored one, being where Lady Jane always sat.

And there she was when Lenox came in.

Oh, Charles! she said, standing and rushing toward him.

There was no deviant nephew, he saw immediately. Something had gone seriously wrong. He took both of her hands and led her back to the couch.

Have you had your tea? Lenox said.

No, I’d forgotten, she said. Kirk—

She stopped speaking and looked to Charles, still gripping his hands.

Kirk, he said, to the butler still standing at the door. Bring us two glasses of warm brandy. Have someone come in to fix the fire, as well. And then bring us tea, with a bit of food.

Very good, sir.

Lenox looked at Lady Jane and smiled. It will be all right, old friend, he said.

Oh, Charles, she said again, despairingly.

A footman came in and gave them each a small silver-handled glass. Lady Jane drank her brandy, and then drank Lenox’s when he handed it to her, while the footman prodded the fire back into shape. Then she began to speak.

It’s ridiculous, I know, she said, but I feel a bit as though I’m in shock.

What happened, my dear? asked Lenox.

Do you remember a girl named Prudence Smith, Charles, a maid I used to have? We called her Prue.

He paused to think. No, I don’t, he said.

She left about three months ago to work for George Barnard, because her fiancé is a footman in his house.

And what’s the matter with her?

She’s dead, said Lady Jane, and took the last sip of brandy in her glass to steady her nerves.

I’m so sorry, he said.

I know, she said. It’s too, too awful.

Do you have any idea of how she died?

Poison, I think. That’s what the housemaid here says. It was she who heard the news.

Murder?

Or suicide. I don’t know.

How appalling!

It’s too much to ask—

Never.

I was hoping—

Of course, he said.

He looked outside. He would have to begin right away. The snow was falling even harder, and it was almost dark, but he turned back to her, smiled cheerfully, and said, I’d better go over while the trail is fresh.

She smiled through her tears, and said, Oh, Charles, it’s too good of you. Especially on a day when it’s so cold.

He sat with her a few minutes longer, making small talk, trying to comfort her, and then asked Kirk for his hat. Lady Jane walked him to the door and waved goodbye as he stepped into a hansom cab and directed the driver to Bond Street.

George Barnard would dislike this, thought Lenox as he rode along. He was a man of immense personal pride, which extended equally to his finest paintings and his lowest pots and pans. A death by poison in his house would offend both his own impervious sense of order and his certainty that most of the world ran by his clock.

He was a politician—once a Member of Parliament, though more recently he had been appointed to a variety of more permanent government roles. He and Lenox were friends, or, more accurately, acquaintances who came into frequent contact. Lenox had too little personal ambition to be counted among Barnard’s truest friends. And had begun with too much money.

Barnard, by contrast, had grown up in impoverished middle-class gentility, somewhere slightly south of Manchester—a far cry from Whitehall. How he had made his money was considered a great mystery, and London society was constantly speculating about it. Some said he had made his first fortune playing on the Exchange, or even as a merchant, but if either was true he had long since thrown it off. He had arrived in London as a conservative MP but had quickly left elective government for unelected posts.

He was currently the director of the Royal Mint, a position once held by Sir Isaac Newton, which explained why he had begun to buy the physicist’s possessions at recent auctions. He had done well as the mint’s director, a job in which he worked hard—apparently, according to most people, because he so loved the material of his labor: namely, money.

George Barnard’s single quirk was the orchid. Atop his house was a glassed-in greenroom, to which he admitted very few people and in which he tenderly cultivated his flowers, splicing their delicate hues in search of a perfect subtle shade, closely guarding the amount of water and sun each plant received. He traveled far and wide, in his rare holidays, to collect species of a commensurate rareness. The destination didn’t matter to him, unless you could call some genus of orchid a destination.

Lenox could say this of him: He did not stint in his generosity in the field of his chosen passion. Whenever he went to a party, he took the lady of the house a flower of exceeding beauty and rareness, one perfectly chosen to match her temperament and sense of style. There was no lady of his own house. Barnard was a bachelor.

It was thus said that you could monitor George Barnard’s social schedule by following his blossoms from address to address. Depending on whom you asked, this habit was either charming or cloying. Lenox was neutral on the issue; though if Barnard had not been so proper, so trustworthy, so unblemished, he would have seemed to Lenox to be sinister.

Chapter 3

By the time the cab drew to a stop, Lenox’s watch had nearly ticked to seven o’clock. He had stopped at Bond Street to pick up his friend Thomas McConnell, which had put him a good deal out of his way.

As he had guessed correctly Barnard’s first decision had been to bring in a high-ranking officer from the Yard. From the other carriage in front of the house, it looked as if it might be Jenkins, a young detective. His presence wouldn’t be a bad thing usually, but Lenox guessed, again correctly, that the owner of the house had told Jenkins to come alone. It was all a struggle between Barnard’s impulse to keep things quiet and his impulse to exercise his authority. If Barnard had his way, there would be no doctor, no routine examination of the premises, only an imperious dictate to resolve matters, and

Reviews for A Beautiful Blue Death

[n.w.moors-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I think I'm being generous with this rating as I'm spoiled with the wonderful Regency mysteries of C.S. Harris and Anne Perry's Victorian William Monk series. This story was somewhat convoluted while not really adding to the murder mystery. As other reviewers noted, there is a lot of anachronisms and inaccuracies that a little research would have fixed. Charles Lenox is likable enough though Lady Jane is a bit of a cipher, more of a cardboard cutout for a female role. I did find the relationship between Lenox and his butler odd. Sometimes they're friendly and other times strictly employer/employee for no particular reason (no one else is there). All the men in love and having sex with the murdered maid was also strange to me; why aren't they all suspects right away? Lenox's reasoning just didn't work for me.

[theyankeeirregular · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

 good story, but I figured out who the killer was fairly early so not that much of a mystery. This is an easy read and I was able to read it all in one day. This is the first book by Charles Finch. Overall a good book to take on a day trip or to the beach.

[geoffhabiger · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The first book in the Charles Lenox mystery series sets an ambition challenge for Charles Lenox, English gentleman and amateur detective. A young house maid is poisoned with the rare bella indigo - the beautiful blue - and the evidence points to a suicide, but Charles immediately suspects that the young girl was murdered. But why? And who among the house guests committed the crime? As Charles digs deeper he begins to unravel a complex scheme of murder tied to potential financial gain. I really enjoyed this first mystery by Charles Finch. It easily fits the mold for the quintessential English detective novel, and with the character of Charles Lenox I see hints of other great fiction detectives, from Sherlock Holmes to Hercule Poirot. The story is set in 1867 and we get a wonderful glimpse of Victorian London. Lenox is an interesting character, a man of wealth and means, second son to a lord, so he has the time available, and the pedigree necessary, to investigate crimes among London's upper crust. Lenox has cultivated a great list of friends and acquaintances who he depends on for their expertise, from his good friend Dr. McConnell, his brother Edward, his butler Graham, and his good friend Lady Jane. As Holmes was an expert in many areas, able to deduce the smallest details from simple clues, Lenox is an expert on people, and uses a large and growing group of experts to aid him in his case. The case is suitably complex, and Charles Finch does a great job of leading the reader down the paths of dead ends, red herrings, and important clues. When the killer and motive are revealed, the vital clues are explained, and you learn that everything needed to solve the crime had been presented. There were no mysterious clues or off the page deductions, and I really enjoyed this. In a few places Finch tended to ramble, as Lenox goes off on a tangent about travelling, or discussing the goings on of society. These added to the setting, but slowed a the novel a bit in the middle, but not enough that I would not recommend this book. It is still a great mystery and a great read, and I am looking forward to the other books in the series.I listened to the audiobook narrated by James Langton. Langton does an excellent job of bringing the characters and story to life, easily jumping between the voices, from Scottish burr to standard English, upper class and lower class. I found all of the characters distinct and the production did not have any flaws in it. If you are looking for a good mystery, featuring a wonderful amateur detective, then I recommend you pick up A Beautiful Blue Death. Like me, I am sure you will find yourself entranced by Charles Finch's world.

[jaelle_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This Victorian era murder mystery seems to have been inspired by both Sherlock Holmes and P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves. Like Holmes, the protagonist, Charles Lenox, uses his mind to solve the crime and is a better detective than his counterpart at Scotland Yard. Lenox’s clever butler, Graham, is reminiscent of Jeeves. Although the mystery is not riveting. the main characters are finely drawn and the small details of life in Victorian London make this a pleasant and engaging novel.

[chazzifrazz · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Victorian gentleman, Charles Lenox, is called on to solve a mystery by his close friend and neighbour Lady Jane Grey. He can't say no to his friend or to solving a mystery.Prudence Smith, a previous servant of Lady Grey's, has been found dead in her room. Suicide is the immediate determination, but when Lenox examines the scene he suspects it is something more. Results from analysis of evidence reveals poisoning by a rare and deadly poison. People residing under the roof of the house the girl works in provide a good list of possible suspects. Add to that the fact that Prudence has flirted with a few of them and the solution becomes even more complicated.I enjoy reading books set in various eras. In the last few years I've added the Victorian era. Finch does a good job in descriptives, dialog and plot lines. I am not an expert in the era, so something can easily slip by when it comes to authenticity, but his style, flow and use of language make the story move at a good and fairly steady pace. I plan on reading more of his work.

[carlathelibrarian · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I finished this book, but it took awhile. The synopsis sounding interesting and I loved the cover, but I had a hard time getting into the story. I think the main reason I struggled was that there were too many tedious details about everyday things like lunch, tea, and idle conversation. The mystery was interesting, but the ending left me unsatisfied. This is the debut novel in the Charles Lenox series, so perhaps the rest are better as it is a long series, so it must get readers.

The story takes place in 1865 London with Charles Lenox as the protagonist and Lady Jane Grey his friend. They grew up together and their friendship is charming and sweet and very well written. In the story, Lady Jane's previous maid has died at her new place of employment and it is being put down as a suicide. Neither Lady Jane or the maid's friends believe she would have killed herself. The owner of the home and the master of the maid, want it taken care of quickly and put to rest. He certainly does not want a criminal investigation going on in his house as he is preparing to give the "Ball of the Season. As Charles investigates, he is a Sherlock Holmes type sleuth, not a policeman, he believes it it murder. When another murder occurs in the house during the ball, Charles eventually figures out the culprits, but the ending seems forced and there seems to be no closure.

This was an okay read for me, I did not dislike it, but I did not gobble the story up as I had expected I would. I might try one more in the series to see if I enjoy it, but I will not be moving it to the top of my TBR list. I received a copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

[liscarey · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It's 1865, and Charles Lenox is a gentleman, the younger brother of baronet Sir Edmund Lenox, living in London and pursuing his hobbies and passions.

One of his hobbies is planning foreign travel. He rarely takes these carefully planned trips, because one of his passions is solving crimes. He has a friend who sometimes assists him, Dr. Thomas McConnell, but that fact and his ability to deduce interesting facts about people from evidence that others miss is really where the resemblance to that other great Victorian-era detective ends. Lenox is not a professional, a consulting detective. He's an amateur, doing this for love and usefulness. When his neighbor and friend, Lady Jane Grey, asks for his help, he immediately cancels his latest planned trip.

A former housemaid of Lady Jane's, Prudence Smith, has died, either by murder or suicide, at the home of her new employer, George Barnard. Barnard is an acquaintance, and also the head of the Royal Mint, and is more interested in preventing scandal than finding the truth.

It's a delicate case, and gets a bit more challenging when Inspector Exeter, a senior man at Scotland Yard but inclined to be resentful of Lenox's interference, is assigned to investigate it.

Finch leads us through an intricate puzzle involving Barnard's two nephews, both living with him, Prudence Smith's multiple lovers, as well as two Members of Parliament and a wealthy industrialist of low birth who are all guests in the Barnard home. Everyone with even a remote motive has an alibi, and everyone without an alibi seems to have no conceivable motive.

And then one of the Members of Parliament is murdered, during Barnard's annual ball. It seems improbable that the two murders are unrelated, yet what connects them? There's also the awkward fact that the dead man had been one of the best suspects in the murder of the maid, and the nephew that had no alibi for her murder, has an unbreakable alibi for the murder of the MP: Lenox's brother Sir Edmund was watching him the whole time.

This is a carefully built puzzle grounded in the personalities and constraints of the different players, with economical but effective character development of each significant individual. I did find the epilogue a bit drawn out, and there mainly, I think, to lay the groundwork for developments in later volumes in the series, but that's a minor complaint in a generally very satisfying mystery.

If you enjoy a good mystery, this is one to seek out, especially since, if you enjoy this one, there are several more already in print.

Recommended.

I received a free electronic galley of this book from the publisher via NetGalley.

[carolfoisset · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I've had this book on my shelf for years - finally got to it and I'm so glad that I did! Well written and enjoyable mystery. Apparently it is the first in a series and I will be reading more Charles Lenox mysteries. Fun to experience some of the culture of Victorian England through the telling of these murders.

[auntie0nanuuq · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Lady Jane Grey's former maid, Prudence Smith (who has changed households to be w/ her Fiancee), had been found poisoned. There was a suicide note addressed to her Fiancee James.... However it was soon brought to light that Pru only ever called James, Jem, and Pru was illiterate, so she never could have written the note. Also coming to light was the fact that although there was Arsenic in a bottle next to the glass, there was only arsenic on the rim of the glass, not in it. Also odd was an absence of finger prints on the glass and another very rare type of poison that actually killed Pru.

Pru was working for a rather gruff man, George Barnard in charge of the mint. The mint had recently been under attack as there was a large amount of new gold coinage soon to be released to the public, and Barnard was set to guard it. The gold coinage was secretly stored in Barnard's house until such a time when it was to be released. Staying in Barnard's house were his two nephews and two men from Parliament (who were also guarding the gold coinage).

I do like Charles Lennox..... He is so different a person from the prescribed Gentlemen of the times. He was intelligent, curious, and interested in humanity. He's not stuffy, erudite, nor arrogant. I also like his relationship with; his childhood friend & neighbor Lady Jane Grey, his butler Graham, his brother Edmund, friend Thomas, the semi-incompetent Scotland Yard Inspector Exeter, as well as the local merchants & workers.

I am taking this down 1 star because of the way the conclusion was written. Basically the conclusion jumped ahead ten years for Claude Barnard and then went back to the present time to conclude for his uncle George Barnard. I believe the book would have been so much better had the author stuck to the time line rather than follow the characters' individual stories.

[jillrhudy · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I didn't read any more of the series after this one. It was just meh. I don't know why anyone would waste time on this with all the amazing mysteries out there. Re-read Agatha Christie or something.

[laytonwoman3rd · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Charles Lenox is a Victorian gentleman who solves crimes. He's no Sherlock Holmes, but I like him. In this first recorded outing, he comes to the aid of his neighbor and childhood friend, Lady Jane Grey, who is concerned about the suspicious death of a former maid. With the able assistance of his doctor friend Thomas McConnell (who is not Dr. Watson, either; in this pair, HE's the one with the substance abuse issue) and his valet Graham (you guessed it, he's not Jeeves, but he's every bit as useful) Lenox sets out to determine who killed the girl and why. Excellent setting and character development. I'll definitely be reading more of these.June 2016

[arctangent_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Nothing about this book, billed as the debut book of a series based on its main character, Charles Lenox, tempts me to read subsequent members of the series. The writing style at times seemed amateurish. The plot, never particularly interesting, creaked along, interrupted inexplicably by digressions to describe irrelevant details of the characters histories, personalities, living arrangements, etc. Enough already about Lenox's cold wet feet and bad boots! I feel hoaxed and humbugged by the reviews posted for this book on Amazon.com. Any comparison of this book to, say, the Victorian mystery series by Anne Perry, is laughable.

[chrisconway_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Too cozy. Bland.

[dorie.craig · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Charles Lenox is a gentleman of leisure who enjoys solving mysteries in his spare time. His good friend, Lady Jane Grey, requests his help when a former servant is found dead of an apparent suicide. Charles of course discovers the girl has been murdered, and there is no end of suspects or motives in the case. I enjoyed the story and the mystery and, although a bit convoluted, it was impossible to guess the resolution. Where Finch really excels is in his interpersonal relationships between the characters. You can't help but feel Charles and Lady Jane both might possibly feel more than friendship between them. And I enjoyed reading about the history of Charles unique friendship with his butler, Graham. This was a good historical cozy mystery and I will be reading the second book so see what develops between the characters. Three and a half stars.

[MariaMontgomery · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Charming and clever. Very British, true to the era the plot is set in and subtle humor throughout.

[pattylee-621744 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Delightful. Will definitely be reading the rest of the series. Thanks, Sara!

[lisahistory · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Another Victorian mystery I wanted to like, and another that was only ok. As an American trying to write British mysteries set in the same era, I'm sure I'm overly critical, but there were some Americanisms even I could see and a curious lack of crisis or resolution at the end -- it just sort of tailed off into further events that didn't seem related to anything. And I'm afraid I was never made to care about the victim, so I had trouble caring about whether her murder was solved. He's published more so I might try again . . . later.

[thekellyfamily · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. I was introduced to this author from reading the The Last Passenger which was part of the prequel for this series. I found this book to be rich in detail of London during Victorian times -- along with a mix of humor, insight and of course the mystery. The detail is rich and I found myself taken away to this time -- with a nice mix of historical references. While I enjoyed the prequels -- I found a Beautiful Blue Death to be more rich in detail -- all while telling a compelling story.

[hemlokgang · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The first of this detective series by Charles Finch, the reader is taken back to Victorian era London. Charles Lenox, a gentleman sleuth, solves the murder of his neighbor's former lady's maid. You get the picture! I enjoyed the gentle unfolding of this story, its characters, and the kind nature of the protagonist. There was an enjoyable, humorous musing about the foibles of the upper class as well. Very nice read.

[bdartnall_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Definitely in the tradition of the Agatha Christie, British upper crust type detective mystery. Found this author's treatment of his characters - esp the protagonist and inner circle- were drawn more sympathetically, his tone a bit warmer than the usual Christie style. Not a very fast paced plot... and the descriptions about the 1860s British political scene, and London environs/economic situation took readers on side trips, but it helped build historical context. I think I'd read another!

[lewilliams-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A nice change of pace from the mysteries and thrillers I normally read with interesting characters.

[bcrowl399 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I find it amazing that the author penned this in one sitting. It is well written and the characters are great. The setting is very soothing and comfortable. I'm not sure I want to read more of this author's work.

[katebaxter_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Such a wonderful debut novel by American born Charles Finch - a double murder mystery set in the year 1865 amidst the haves and have-nots of Victorian England. His writing style is elegant and most engaging. His research into the goings on of the day is most commendable. Admittedly, this reader was a little late to party and read the three subsequently written prequels before launching into the series. However, it still is a wonderfully engrossing read twelve years later. I eagerly look forward to amateur detective Charles Lenox's next case. Synopsis (from book's dust jacket):Equal parts Sherlock Holmes, Gosford Park, and P. G. Wodehouse, this Victorian debut introduces a wonderfully appealing detective and his friend, the lovely Lady Jane.On most days during London's long winter, Charles Lenox, a Victorian gentleman and armchair explorer, likes to relax in his private library with a cup of tea, a roaring fire, and a good book. But when his lifelong friend Lady Jane asks for his help, Lenox finds himself in the heart of a another mystery - one more complicated and layered than any he's ever faced.One of Jane's former servants, Prudence Smith, is dead -- an apparent suicide. But Lenox immediately suspects something more sinister: murder by a rare and deadly poison. The patrician house where the girl worked and lived is full of suspects, and while Prudence played with more than a few hearts, even Lenox is baffled by the elusive motive behind her death.When another body turns up during the London season's most fashionable ball, Lenox must untangle the web of loyalties and animosities surrounding the Barnard mansion. He has friends to help him with the task, not least his faithful valet, Graham, and his assistant and friend, Dr. Thomas McConnell. But suddenly their work grinds to a halt: Lenox's rival at Scotland Yard, Inspector Exeter, has taken a personal interest in the case. Did jealousy kill Prudence Smith? Was it the mysterious treasure secretly inhabiting an upstairs room in the house? Or was it something else entirely - something that the brilliant Lenox alone can uncover before the killer strikes again, dangerously close to home?

[aneris-3 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

For some reason this book didn't grab me the way I expected. It could mean that my first and only reading slump isn't over or that this was simply a miss for me (which is strange because I like this genre). Whatever the reason, I found the characters' conversations annoying and some of ordinary things the protagonist does are way too detailed (having tea, breakfast and such).
Still, take this with a grain of salt. For now it was simply an okay story. I might return to this book when I am in better mood for it. This doesn't mean I'll give up on the series though.

[jguidry-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I enjoyed the characters in the story, but found the writing and the mystery lacking. I probably liked the characters because they were similar to Dorothy L. Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey. We had the 2nd son in a titled family with nothing much to do with his time other then solve puzzles", a butler much like a friend who helps solve the mysteries, and friends who buck the traditional rules of society (the Scottish doctor and the BFF who is a woman). However I didn't find the writing or the mystery as interesting as Sayers' prose. The storylines dragged on at points and I kind of got sick of hearing about the boots. I also didn't like how Finch skipped back and forth in time to reveal the ending to the mystery. However, I liked the characters enough to read at least one more book in the series to give the author another chance to establish his writing style in this series."

[ivydtruitt · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

On any given day in London, all Charles Lenox, Victorian gentleman and armchair explorer, wants to do is relax in his private study with a cup of tea, a roaring fire and a good book. But when his lifelong friend Lady Jane asks for his help, Lenox cannot resist another chance to unravel a mystery, even if it means trudging through the snow to her townhouse next door.One of Jane's former servants, Prudence Smith, is dead – an apparent suicide. But Lenox suspects something far more sinister: murder, by a rare and deadly poison. The house where the girl worked is full of suspects, and though Prudence dabbled with the hearts of more than a few men, Lenox is baffled by an elusive lack of motive in the girl's death.When another body turns up during the London season's most fashionable ball, Lenox must untangle a web of loyalties and animosities. Was it jealousy that killed Prudence? Or was it something else entirely, something that Lenox alone can uncover before the killer strikes again – disturbingly close to home? (Synopsis from Amazon)A BEAUTIFUL BLUE DEATH is the first in the Charles Lenox Victorian cozy mystery series. Lenox, Graham (his butler, among other things), Edmund (Lenox’s brother and heir to the title), Lady Jane Grey (friend from childhood), and last but not least, he of little imagination, Scotland Yard Inspector Exeter are the main characters introduced to readers. The relationships are finely drawn and well established. Lenox already has a bit of a reputation for detecting among his circle and Scotland Yard. Having just finished a case and looking forward to relaxing, Lenox is asked by Lady Jane to investigate the death of a former maid, Prue. Prue’s death has implications that reach far beyond her station, leading Lenox to the halls of Parliament. Lenox, as a gentleman detective, owes much to Sayers, Marsh, and Conan-Doyle. This would account for the ease with which I slipped into his world. While there is that sense of familiarity, Lenox and his supporting cast have their own unique qualities that allow them to carve their own niche. Mr. Finch gives us glimpses into not only the past but foreshadows of future events and relationships. This has certainly whet my appetite for subsequent mysteries. Rich in period detail, appealing characters, and a gratifyingly complex mystery, A BEAUTIFUL BLUE DEATH is a wonderful discovery. I look forward to curling up in my chair and catching up with Lenox’s adventures over the coming winter.Reviewed for Novels Alive TV

[anglophile65 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I'm loving this book - the setting is ideal - London, in the mid-1800's, Christmas time, in the affluent society circle - the main character's favourite place is his library, with the fireplace and tons of books with tea. Aaah, now that is my nirvana.

Hope that there are many more by Charles Finch to come.

[toobusyreading · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Charles Lenox is an armchair sleuth, so when a servant is found dead (suicide? Murder?) and a bottle of poison discovered nearby, he has to get involved.I rather wish he hadn't. While I like the Victorian setting, the story on a whole just bored me. I didn't feel empathy for the characters, didn't especially like or dislike any of them. The murder mystery didn't draw me in. Lots of talk and speculation, little action. Ho-hum. However, I did learn a great deal about what Charles ate, when he ate what he ate, and with whom he ate what he ate. He is a rather prissy character, but not even prissy enough to be interesting.I have the next book in this series, and will probably listen to it, but unless it is a good deal better than this book, I'm done with the series.I listened to the Audible version, and the narration was quite good.

[kellswitch_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Charles Lenox, Victorian gentleman and armchair explorer, likes nothing more than to relax in his private study with a cup of tea, a roaring fire and a good book. And solve mysteries. One thing this book has convinced me of is this, if I get to be reincarnated I want to come back as a wealthy Victorian era man like Charles Lenox. They get to be waited on, read all day, go to clubs and don't really have to do much to justify their lives if they don't want to. This was a slow paced book but it never really felt drawn out or boring, the slower pace seemed to fit the character and the atmosphere of the story quite well. I don't know how realistic a depiction of life in the Victorian era this book really is but it made me feel like I was in that time periodI enjoyed the main characters of Charles Lenox and Lady Jane but I can't say that I felt particularly attached to them, they don't quite seem like real people, still they were pleasant enough that I wouldn't mind getting to know more about them.The overall mystery was well plotted and I didn't begin to suspect the resolution until pretty far into it, the author did a nice job giving one or two clues that could be missed but could also allow you to figure it out on your own and avoided the whole red herring trap. This was a nice, fairly gentle (for a story involving a murder), slow paced mystery and a good introduction to a new series. I am willing to read more in the series but I would have to be in the mood for this particular type of mystery.

[readinggrrl · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Set in Victorian England this mystery has many twists and turns and well developed characters. Charles Lenox is a bachelor in the upper levels of society who spends his free time trying to solve the mysteries of the Ton. Charles Lenox would be happy if he could find a good pair of warm waterproof boots, have a nice fire, tea a good book and the company of his neighbor Lady Jane. However he always seems to get sucked in by a good mystery as an amateur detective. In this book Lennox with the help of his brother, footman, and a host of other colorful individuals Lennox struggles to find the killer of a maid whose murder looks like a suicide but could hold the key to a much larger deception. Excellent read, I may be picking up more of these charming books.