I’ve read most of this series, and it’s among my favorite comfort reads. I’ve mentioned this before, but I started reading this series in Japan, when jet lag would gift me with a hard wake-up at 3am and I’d have no ability to get back to sleep. My memories of these characters are indelibly mixed with being wrapped in a duvet, hiding under the covers so the light from my e-reader wouldn’t wake everyone up. As a result, there are few mystery series more cozy for me than this one, and my email reply to Huber’s publicist asking if I’d like a copy of A Stroke of Malice was not chill by any stretch.

It’s somewhat intimidating for me to review the eighth book in a series. Do readers need to start with book one in order to read this one? In this case, I don’t think it’s a requirement. While I have read most of this series, you probably also know that I don’t remember things well. This means I can re-read mysteries and be repeatedly surprised by them (bonus!) and also means that if I pick up book eight in a series, it might as well be book one. Aside from broad familiarity with the characters of the Lady Darby series and a sense of snuggly welcome from re-entering their world, I didn’t remember the intricate details of prior books. All this to say: if you start with this one, you’re probably fine. Some plots from prior books will be somewhat broadly spoiled, and you’ll miss the deliciously romantic journey between the protagonists, but you’ll have a sense of who everyone is and how they fit together by the second chapter. In a break-glass-for-emergency-comfort-read scenario, this book fits the bill, and you can start in the middle if you absolutely want to.

And I really, truly, recommend this series, and this book, for a number of reasons, most especially because of the relationship of Keira and her husband, (Sebastian) Gage, and their interactions as they solve Yet Another Murder. You’d think people would stop inviting them places because even they admit they tend to habitually trip over dead bodies who got that way by foul means.

In this book, Keira and Gage are at a duke’s castle for Twelfth Night. Keira is about six months pregnant, so there’s a lot of fine detail about clothing alterations and the minutiae of pregnancy in that time period, plus the added tension of Gage worrying about her after, yet again, they trip over a dead body (surprise!). An unidentifiable dead man in gentleman’s clothing is found in the crypt of the castle during a “ghostly tour” led by one of the duke’s sons, and Keira (aka Lady Darby, though that title comes from her first husband, who was completely awful) and Gage are asked to investigate. The duke’s family has about as many secrets as the castle has rooms (which is to say, a metric buttload) and no one is being entirely honest (surprise!).

Class usually plays a major role in the tension and obstruction of their investigations, and this book is no different. The imbalance of who has power, who does not, and who uses that power to remove troublesome people or hide that they’ve assisted in that removal are common themes in the series, and those thematic elements continue to direct the plot and the characters in A Stroke of Malice, too.

With this book, there’s an added menace that was deeply chilling for me as a reader right now: it takes place in 1832, during the second major cholera pandemic. The cholera outbreak has reached England, people are dying, and the duke’s adult children and their families are trying to avoid it by retreating to their castle, though the Twelfth Night celebration is an annual tradition which they continue regardless. They are aware of the risks, but don’t worry overmuch.

The people who are part of the lower classes are a different matter: when one of them has to go out to do some investigating in another town, one where cholera has already killed people in large numbers, they discuss wearing masks, and at one point Keira muses:

“…diseases did not care what class you were, or how much money you possessed, or whether you were kind or hateful. They infected indiscriminately.”

The uncanny contrast and similarity with what’s happening right now struck me on several levels: with this current pandemic, the disease itself certainly doesn’t care about class, but as many journalists, notably Anne Helen Peterson, have pointed out, and Dr. Tressie McMillan Cottom said succinctly, “wealth is the vector.” The deaths in that pandemic and this one might seem indiscriminate, but the spread is absolutely not. Then and now, some can afford to shelter safely, and some have to go out into the world because they have no other option.

In addition, looking at the current pandemic, who decides to travel when being told not to because no one can stop them from doing so…that blithe, deadly arrogance is present both then and now, and parallel one another in ways that made this book seem extremely prescient. As Anne Helen Petersen wrote:

The virus, some people have taken to saying, “does not discriminate.” But that’s not quite true. It is putting our class & racial hierarchies in harsh relief — systems that favor the rich and the globally mobile while declaring the work of so many of the working class “essential”

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Class also influences consequence, another theme in the series, and certainly in this book. The privileged aristocrats expect that, even if one of them is a murderer, no real consequences will arrive:

“…as a man who had always done whatever he pleased with few, if any, consequences, because of the significance of his rank, he had never needed to feel dread over what might come next. As such, he expected the same results from this.

Not for the first time, I felt the sour taste of disenchantment and mistrust flood the back of my mouth.”

Again, uncanny and unexpectedly prescient. I half expected to find lottery numbers for 27 April 2023 in a footnote.

As usual, the plot is twisty and compelling, and the setting is as much a character as the individuals doing the investigating. I mentioned the detail of character and circumstance with Keira’s pregnancy, but there’s also some luscious descriptions of the castle, the surrounding land, the food, the clothing, the weather – this series is for me an absorbing sensory experience.

My favorite part of this book was the stability and foundation of familiar comfort and strength in Keira and Gage’s marriage. They are true partners, and seeing them solve crime and rely unfailingly on one another is part of what makes this series so welcoming for me as a reader – I had a very hard time putting this book down once I started reading it. Their romance starts with book one and evolves over the series, growing and maturing with each story. In this installment, their marriage is familiar and important, and one they work on attentively and value deeply:

“And just like that, though no words were exchanged, he steadied me. The frazzled sensation tightening my nerves began to loosen, and my lungs inhaled a deeper breath than the ones before.”

No exaggeration, that’s how I felt reading this book: like I was taking a long, deep breath and unwinding some of the tension I’ve been carrying inside. (And if that’s not an argument for me to re-read the series, I don’t know what is.) (NB: and since this review was written, I’ve re-read books one and two.)

My frustrations were minimal, but I do suggest that if you want to get completely and utterly drunk, possibly to the point of unconsciousness, drink every time Keira puts a hand or arm across the swell of her stomach to express feelings of vulnerability or fear. On second thought, do not – it would be dangerous because that gesture happened so many times, it almost became farcical.

That said, the themes that run through this book – that the unquestionable love of family both born and assembled offers the necessary protection and care that we need as humans – were reassuring, especially as the parallels between pandemics then and now revealed themselves. For me, revisiting characters whom I like and respect, who are trying repeatedly to do the right and honorable thing and correct grievous wrongs against substantial obstacles both individual and social, was a much needed respite.

I was surprised that the presence of the cholera epidemic, and the ways the characters managed their fears of it, was also strangely reassuring; it’s not like I’m seeking out plague fiction at the moment. I think it was the reinforcement of the idea that, even in times of great danger and uncertainty, people will keep trying to care for one another, that I found so compelling. As I said, I had a hard time putting this book down, and despite my strict self-monitored sleep schedule (I go to bed even earlier now) I was up way, way past my bedtime reading, so this book is apparently part of my Bad Decisions Book Club Pandemic Expansion Pack.