The Widow’s Secret by Brian Thompson

What marks out a new detective series? There’s the era, of course, with historical crime fiction becoming ever more popular. Then there’s the character of the detective, whether an alcoholic Ethiopian tramp in a Roman suburb or a forensic anthropologist in Canada, and then there’s the nature of the crimes to be investigated.

Finally, there are the tools of justice; crime stories don’t always have to end with the amateur sleuth peering over the bridge into the torrents below (where a top hat can be seen being tossed to and fro in the foam), or handing their prey over to an obliging if misguided constable. For example, in The Widow’s Secret, Brian Thompson has created Bella Wallis, a nineteenth-century sleuth who settles her quarries’ hash by ruining their reputations through thinly veiled caricatures in sensation novels.

Bella Wallis is interesting for other reasons, as well. She’s morally conflicted and sexually (and romantically) ambiguous, as her relationship with a curious French girl clashes with a potential affair with a male friend. Early on in the book, she attends an agricultural exhibit with another man, on whom she has the following effect:

In the Great Hall, she walked about with her arm tucked inside his, a tall and buxom figure, with a decidedly full jaw he had never noticed previously. What had entranced him when they first met was her eyes—intelligent, searching eyes—and the air of mystery that hung about her. She was a widow who never spoke of her late husband. But she had such an alluring presence that Henry was torn between wishing to throw himself into the principal exhibit (a steam threshing machine) and blurting out the contents of his heart.

There are also some beautifully drawn villains, who exhibit all sorts of appropriately villainous, erratic, and lunatic behaviour. Take Lord Bolsover:

That morning, to the consternation of his servants, his lordship had ordered fires lit in every room. No sooner done than he further commanded all the windows to be opened. Hagley was received in a gale of woodsmoke, attended by rushing maids and footmen.

‘There is some reason for all this, is there?’ he enquired too jovially.

Bolsover stared at him. ‘It is what I want,’ he said.

‘Yes, but the reason—’

‘I have given you the reason. You have come from Oxford?’

‘From London. We are in trouble, Freddie.’

‘I am not in the least trouble, unless it is that the house will shortly burn down. And if it does, what’s that to you?’

The storytelling is nicely handled, with the scenes feeling fresh and original, and there are some wonderful lines. Thompson’s previous publications include two volumes of memoirs, Keeping Mum and Clever Girl. I’ve not read them, but they were very well received, and I’m starting to think that maybe I should. I’ll certainly be keeping an eye out for the next Bella Wallis story.

The idea of justice through sensational fiction is a fun one, although the ending does weaken it slightly (you’ll have to read it to find out why). And of course, when themes like this are involved, it’s easy to believe that Brian Thompson is settling a few scores of his own (both private and public: on page 35 there’ s a disgraced butler named Burrell who is “born for the horsewhip”). When Thompson writes “the originals for characters in fiction never recognise themselves”, it must send a few shivers down the spines of those who know him.

Oh, and the terrific cover is by Gray318—aka Jonathan Gray—who also did these.