Thistlewood Manor: Calamity at the Ball (An Eliza Montagu Cozy Mystery—Book 3)

THISTLEWOOD

MANOR:

CALAMITY AT THE BALL

(An Eliza Montagu Cozy Mystery—Book Three)

FIONA GRACE

Fiona Grace

Fiona Grace is author of the LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books; of the TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY series, comprising seven books; of the DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY series, comprising three books; of the BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY series, comprising six books; of the CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books; of the ELIZA MONTAGU COZY MYSTERY series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the ENDLESS HARBOR ROMANTIC COMEDY series, comprising five books (and counting).

Fiona would love to hear from you, so please visit www.fionagraceauthor.com to receive free ebooks, hear the latest news, and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2023 by Fiona Grace. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Alaver, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY FIONA GRACE

ENDLESS HARBOR ROMANTIC COMEDY

ALWAYS, WITH YOU (Book #1)

ALWAYS, FOREVER (Book #2)

ALWAYS, PLUS ONE (Book #3)

ALWAYS, TOGETHER (Book #4)

ALWAYS, LIKE THIS (Book #5)

ELIZA MONTAGU COZY MYSTERY

MURDER AT THE HEDGEROW (Book #1)

A DALLOP OF DEATH (Book #2)

CALAMITY AT THE BALL (Book #3)

A SPEAKEASY DEMISE (Book #4)

A FLAPPER FATALITY (Book #5)

LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY

MURDER IN THE MANOR (Book#1)

DEATH AND A DOG (Book #2)

CRIME IN THE CAFE (Book #3)

VEXED ON A VISIT (Book #4)

KILLED WITH A KISS (Book #5)

PERISHED BY A PAINTING (Book #6)

SILENCED BY A SPELL (Book #7)

FRAMED BY A FORGERY (Book #8)

CATASTROPHE IN A CLOISTER (Book #9)

TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY

AGED FOR MURDER (Book #1)

AGED FOR DEATH (Book #2)

AGED FOR MAYHEM (Book #3)

AGED FOR SEDUCTION (Book #4)

AGED FOR VENGEANCE (Book #5)

AGED FOR ACRIMONY (Book #6)

AGED FOR MALICE (Book #7)

DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY

SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF MURDER (Book #1)

SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF CRIME (Book #2)

SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF DEATH (Book #3)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A KILLER CUPCAKE (Book #1)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A MURDEROUS MACARON (Book #2)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A PERILOUS CAKE POP (Book #3)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A DEADLY DANISH (Book #4)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A TREACHEROUS TART (Book #5)

BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A CALAMITOUS COOKIE (Book #6)

CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY

A VILLA IN SICILY: OLIVE OIL AND MURDER (Book #1)

A VILLA IN SICILY: FIGS AND A CADAVER (Book #2)

A VILLA IN SICILY: VINO AND DEATH (Book #3)

A VILLA IN SICILY: CAPERS AND CALAMITY (Book #4)

A VILLA IN SICILY: ORANGE GROVES AND VENGEANCE (Book #5)

A VILLA IN SICILY: CANNOLI AND A CASUALTY (Book #6)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

What do you think about this one? Mercy asked, holding up a floor-length, teal gown with a scoop back and ruched cap sleeves.

It’s nice, Eliza said, her eyes glued to the charts in front of her.

You didn’t even look!

I didn’t have to. I can already tell that whatever it is, you will look positively smashing in it.

Liza Mercy whined, her lips twisting into a pout. Come on, please! This is important!

Mercy, Eliza replied, finally stopping to look at her sister. I love you, but that is not important. This— she said, gesturing to the papers in front of her—this is important. And that? Well, that is a dress.

Yes. It is a dress. A dress that could determine my whole future! A dress that could—

—Look, I understand, Mercy. Really, I do. I know mother and Great Aunt Martha have been talking to you about this ball for months, and preparing you for your first social event on the circuit pretty much since you were born, but I promise you, no matter what they say, this does not actually matter.

Mercy opened her mouth to object, but before she could, Eliza continued.

And before you tell me that it absolutely does matter, especially because my decision not to marry has resulted in all of the family’s hopes and dreams being pinned on you, let me say that I know. And I’m sorry if you’re feeling extra pressure because of that. And I’m not saying the ball doesn’t matter, although I do think they are ridiculous extravagances that only serve to further reinforce—

Liza, Mercy interrupted, exasperated.

"Right, sorry. The point is that what you wear doesn’t matter. No matter what outfit you choose or lipstick you pick or fascinator you put on, you are still going to be the most desirable girl at that ball. You could wear a burlap sack and still have your pick of suitors."

Mercy laughed.

No, really, I think I may be on to something. Have you considered a burlap sack? Certainly one of the farmers must have one lying around somewhere. Perhaps Rene got one when he picked up the most recent potato order. We could cinch it in at the waist and—

You’re incorrigible, Mercy said with a grin.

One of the many reasons you love me, Eliza replied.

This is true.

Mercy smiled at Eliza before turning her gaze back to the dress. Much as Eliza objected to all the rigamarole that was being made about this ball, she couldn’t help but feel compassion for Mercy in this moment. Whether Eliza agreed with it or not, it was clear her sister was feeling the pressure.

Whatever you do, whatever you wear, they are all going to love you, Mercy. I promise. You must not worry so much.

I could say the same thing to you, Mercy said, gesturing towards the stack of papers Eliza had been agonizing over when she arrived. What is all this anyway?

That was a bit harder to explain. Two months ago, Eliza’s father had followed through on his promise to allow her to take on a larger role in the family business by giving her control over a small portion of the company’s assets to either manage or reinvest as she saw fit. Eliza had never been entrusted with money like that before, and she swelled with pride at the thought of it.

But then, the panic set in.

What if she got it all wrong? What if she sold something and then later came to regret it? What if she hung on to something when she shouldn’t have, and its value plummeted? What if she backed the wrong horse? What if she wasn’t really any good at this at all and her brothers had been right all along? What if their instinct to push back against her being handed such a sizable responsibility was actually a good one?

The weight of it all was crushing. But the idea of proving her brothers wrong and doing something brilliant with the money? Well, that was positively thrilling. And Eliza was never one to shy away from a thrill or a challenge.

So, she did what she always did when she found the prospect of something intimidating—she looked the problem straight in the face, laughed, and got to work.

She’d spent the better part of the first month researching all of the assets under her control, interviewing farmers, and identifying challenges facing either the farmers or their family businesses or both. Eliza knew full well that challenges, when looked at correctly, were really just opportunities in disguise, and she was eager to see what opportunities those challenges might bring.

That’s how she’d spent the last month—researching opportunities. At first, she failed to uncover anything particularly exciting; but then, just as she was about to lose all hope, she’d come across one that she was fairly certain could not only solve a problem but also really put her family business on the map.

She’d invested everything she had in it—this one big idea—and she believed, with her whole heart, that it had the potential to help not only her family but the farmers as well.

The only problem, Eliza thought, is that I’ll never be able to get them to believe in this if they don’t believe in me.

And as a woman in an extremely male-dominated industry, she knew full well that getting them to believe in her was going to be the far greater challenge.

Eliza? Eliza, are you alright? Mercy asked, jolting Eliza out of her thoughts.

What? Yes. Why?

Because I asked you a question, and you didn’t answer me. You just kind of…. glazed over.

Oh, right you are. Sorry about that.

So… Mercy said, once again gesturing to the papers in front of Eliza after another uncharacteristic silence. What is it?

It’s nothing yet, Eliza said, once again lost in thought. But it is the beginning of something I think might change everything.

CHAPTER ONE

Eliza Montagu pulled her white, cashmere coat tighter around herself as she stepped out of Thistlewood Manor and into the garden. She was eager to get moving, but a tug on the leash in her hand stopped her.

Scout, are you alright? she asked, as she turned to look at him.

Scout had sat himself down by the marble steps, clearly too cold to move. Shivering, he cocked his head and whimpered slightly.

Oh, you poor dear, Eliza said as she knelt down beside him. For a moment, she was tempted to just take him back inside, but she knew he needed some fresh air. They both did. After two hours spent listening to Mercy debate the pros and cons of empire waist gowns and the merits of silk versus rayon, Eliza was desperate for some peace and quiet—and nothing provided that quite like the garden in winter.

Here, she said, slipping off her emerald green scarf and wrapping it around Scout like a sort of makeshift sweater.

She stood back for a moment, admiring her handiwork, and smiled. Scout looked both warmer and decidedly more adorable if that was possible.

There, now that’s better, right?

Scout hesitated for a moment, as though trying to decide whether or not he agreed.

Oh, come on, Eliza said with a smile. Even you have to admit that’s an improvement.

Whether or not Scout agreed was anyone’s guess, but he did stand up and follow Eliza into the garden, which she chose to interpret as a sign of approval.

Together, they wandered through the garden. Most of the Montagus abandoned the habit of taking walks in the garden as soon as the first snowflake fell, but not Eliza. The flowers may not have been in bloom any longer, but there was still beauty, she thought, in the barren limbs. She loved the way they looked in the morning, all slick with ice and frost, and there was something about them at midday—the way the sun glittered on their empty branches—that made Eliza long for a free afternoon with her canvas, a brush, and some paint.

There was a quiet, a peacefulness, to the garden this time of year that Eliza loved as well. It gave her a sense, not of loneliness, but of solitude. A sense that everything around her was not dead but rather simply resting—building up the strength to burst forth with vibrant, new life.

She hoped her idea for the family business would be the start of that vibrant new life for her. She wanted it so much she could taste it. She had spent weeks designing her presentation and refining her plan, and at night, when she couldn’t sleep, she’d close her eyes and imagine what it would look like if she were to be successful.

She’d spent many a night lying there, picturing the pride in her father’s eyes. The mix of disbelief and begrudging approval from Cedric. She knew he’d be impressed, even if his pride would never permit him to admit it. And Melville—well, the truth was that Melville would likely be too engrossed in the celebratory brandy to care much either way, but nevertheless, she liked imagining him coming over and slapping her on the back and saying, You did it, old girl. Always knew you would.

She’d picture herself, all done up in business attire, commanding the attention of the men around her in presentation after presentation. She’d imagine herself thoughtfully answering all their questions as they stared on, impressed both by her elocution and her business acumen. For once, she wouldn’t be just Lord Montagu’s daughter, or Cedric and Melville Montagu’s sister. She wouldn’t be a struggling artist or a debutant. She would be Eliza Montagu, the brilliant strategist behind a series of revolutionary investments and farming techniques that would save not only their family business, but also the livelihood of all the families who depended upon them.

She could see the picture so clearly it was as if she had painted it. And it was a stunningly beautiful daydream. The problem was, Eliza was increasingly afraid it would never be reality. If she was honest, she was reasonably certain reality was far more likely to mimic what she saw in her nightmares, where the men laughed at her and never took her seriously and all her ideas were dismissed as nothing more than flights of fancy—the endless ramblings of a woman who should have been focusing her attention on raising children and running a household.

As they approached a line of thick, lush evergreens, Eliza felt another tug on the leash. Scout had stopped short and turned to face Thistlewood Manor.

Alright, Eliza said, turning around and joining him. I suppose you’re right. That probably is enough for today.

The two strolled in silence for a moment, Eliza desperately trying to focus on the peaceful scene around her rather than the storm of anxiety brewing within. And then, in a manner most unexpected, life threw yet another spanner into the works.

Eliza did not even have to see inside the carriage to know who was pulling up outside Thistlewood Manor, and the knowledge of that made her heart temporarily stop. She knew they were expecting visitors, but she had no idea he was one of them.

"Oliver Fairfax, as