By Margaret Miles
A wintry weather of discontent...
January 1766. a perilous mishap brings younger widow Charlotte Willett all at once to bleak and marshy Boar Island, a couple of miles from the village of Bracebridge and residential to 2 eccentric aged girls. a few say that smug, unpopular Alexander Godwin — the single villager to frequently name upon the island's citizens — hopes to inherit the cavernous condominium whilst its proprietor eventually passes on.
But whilst Alexander is brutally murdered after the town's annual iciness fête, Charlotte and her neighbor Richard Longfellow can not help yet ask yourself who between Alexander's detractors may be dependable. Is his demise attached to his actions on Boar Island — or to the unearthly trickery rumored to occur there? may the competition over a gorgeous younger lady have sparked a extra risky ardour? and should the solutions show themselves earlier than demise moves Boar Island back?
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Extra info for A Mischief in the Snow
Charlotte traversed the entry hall alone, and let herself out. Enjoying the crisp air, she started down the path, watching the ruby remains of the winter sun. At the bank, she retrieved one of the skates slipped earlier under the landing; she pulled a clammy leather strap through its buckle, and reached for the other. Unfortunately, the action caused a splinter to enter her bare finger. She dropped the skate abruptly. It skittered, and came to rest beneath the boards. When she bent to retrieve it, she saw something else glimmer faintly, beside the blade.
He hoped for some advancement. None ever came. The move killed my mother, I'm sure—though little he cared for that! But I was introduced to gentlemen with fine titles, invited, they believed, for the hunting. They were never rich enough, or generous enough, in my father's eyes. Until I was nearly thirty, he made me wait—and then, what did I get? Fortunately I did enjoy an English tutor, a pretty fellow…” The old woman's voice trailed away, though a smile lingered on her lips. Charlotte wondered at the freedoms such a life might have allowed, or even encouraged, despite its restrictions.
But if that gave him a new privilege to question her plans, why was it that her growing curiosity about his affairs so often went unsatisfied? Still, young men deserved an additional degree of privacy, she'd decided, and this, she was determined to give. “Sunset must be three hours away,” she said now, after taking a peek through to the large room with south-facing windows. “I suppose,” she continued, moving toward the back door, “that by then I'll have had enough. ” She bent briefly to pat Orpheus, giving him soft instructions to return to the hearth, for he could not come with her.
A Mischief in the Snow by Margaret Miles