The Secret of Bow Lane by Jennifer Ashley – Review & Excerpt

The Secret of Bow Lane by Jennifer Ashley – a Review

 

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Description:
A stranger who appears on Kat’s doorstep turns out to be one Charlotte Bristow, legal wife of Joe Bristow, the man Kat once believed herself married to—who she thought died at sea twelve years ago. Kat is jolted by Charlotte’s claims that not only was Joe murdered, but he had amassed a small fortune before he died. Charlotte makes the cook an offer she cannot refuse—if Kat can discover the identity of Joe’s murderer, Charlotte will give her a share of the fortune Joe left behind.

With the help of Daniel McAdam, her attractive and charismatic confidante, Kat plunges into her own past to investigate. When it becomes apparent that the case of Joe’s death goes far deeper than simple, opportunistic theft, Kat and Daniel’s relationship is put to the test, and Kat herself comes under scrutiny as her connection to Joe is uncovered. She must race to catch the real killer before she loses her job and possibly her life.

 

Review:

The Secret of Bow Lane by Jennifer Ashley is the 6th book in her wonderful Kat Holloway Mysteries. Refresher: This series takes place in Victorian, England, centered around our heroine Kat Holloway, who is a cook extraordinaire, as well as a great detective.  Kat is smart, savvy, independent, loyal and is very protective of her below the stairs staff.  As I have noted previously, this series has a wonderful feel of a historical Downton Abbey.

The Secret of Bow Lane was an excellent addition to this series, especially as it centered on Kat’s past life; her marriage, the death of her husband, and meeting the woman who was revealed to be her husband’s true wife. We also get more information about Daniel’s past and the people he works for.

Kat is approached by a woman, Charlotte Bristow, who was the legal wife of Joe Bristow, who died 12 years ago at sea.  Kat is shocked when Charlotte claims that Joe was murdered, and had bags of money; she wants Kat to help her find the money.  At first, Kat does not believe this claim, as how would a sailor get this kind of money or own land; but she begins to investigate the past.  As she returns to Bow Lane, Kat finds herself in her old neighborhood, and past friends and vendors.  We do learn a lot about Kat’s past, and even more about the man she thought she was married to. She will begin to learn that that Joe’s death is far deeper than possible theft, not to mention that the man she thought she knew, had a reputation of being a bad man.   Who really killed Joe? 

The Secret of Bow Lane was a wonderful suspenseful mystery, with Kat finding herself on the forefront in not only trying to solve this case, but also learning more about Daniel’s past, and trying to spend more time with her daughter. The romance between Kat and Daniel begins to escalate, but still in the background; we can see both of them very much expressing their feelings for each other, even though Kat worries about Daniel’s dangerous life.  I also continue to love the scenes where Kat and Tess are preparing all these wonderful dishes for the upstairs family.

Once again, Jennifer Ashley gives us another fabulous story revolving around our heroine, Kat Holloway.  The Secret of Bow Lane was very well written by Ashley, which I thought was the best one yet. If you enjoy Victorian stories, with a mystery theme, a Downton Abbey background, two very good leading characters and great secondary characters, you should be reading this series. If you have not read this series, I suggest you start with the first book.

Reviewed by Barb

Copy provided by Publisher

 

 

Murdered him?” I repeated the words in amazement. “For a powerful lot of money? What are you talking about? Joe died at sea. So said the solicitor who came to me after his death.” To explain I was not truly Joe’s wife and that none of his things belonged to me.

“Joe did die. But not from his ship going down, like they told me, and like they told you.”

I made myself release the railing and move closer to her. The rumbling of wheels on cobblestones would ensure we weren’t overheard, but I did not want to shout this business on the street.

“How do you know?” I demanded. “Anyone can feed you a rigmarole.”

Charlotte was about the same height as me. She stared straight at me, her chin at a stubborn tilt.

“A friend of Joe’s has visited me now and then over the years. He’s always said something weren’t right with Joe’s death.”

Charlotte spoke the words as though reciting a speech, jaw stiff, hands clenched. She had a haunted look about her, I thought, as though she was unhappy but determined not to reveal any misery to the world.

“What friend?” I asked.

“I’m getting to that. Joe had a man who worked for him, apparently. Fellow doted on Joe, would do anything for him, so this other friend says. After Joe died, the man disappeared, and so did the cash Joe’s friend knows Joe had. The solicitors searched for everything Joe had left, but there never was much. I got what they found, as was my right as the widow.”

Unlike me, who deserved nothing, the flash in her eyes said.

A bailiff and constable had accompanied the solicitor when he’d come to search my house for any goods Joe might have left behind, intent on carrying off whatever they could to give to Charlotte and her son. That was the day I’d learned about my husband’s true wife.

“He never had any money when he was with me,” I said.

“No, he went through it fast enough.” Charlotte’s expression told me she hated to agree with me. “But that was his pocket money. Seems that Joe had much more, stashed away, entrusted to someone, maybe, for the day he quit sailing and retired. This devoted assistant of his stole it—he must have done—and I think he killed Joe while he was at it.” Charlotte’s bosom, in its drab brown cotton, rose with determination. “If you help me find the money, I’ll give you a portion of it.”

I digested the story but did not give much credit to it. “I asked you before: Why on earth come to me? Why would you tell me these things and then offer me compensation for my assistance?”

Charlotte’s scowl became fierce. “I’ve heard things, haven’t I? On the street, like. I went to Bow Lane and asked about you, and everyone there told me that you were now a snooty cook in a grand house in Mayfair, and that you’ve helped the police find out a thing or two. I decided you’d be the one person who’d be interested in what happened to Joe’s money. Working in a house like this ain’t the same as living in it, is it?” Charlotte cast Number 43 Mount Street a disparaging glance.

“You went to Bow Lane?” A chill touched my heart. No one in my old street knew I’d been tricked into a bigamous marriage-they only knew I’d lost my husband and gone to work to support my child.

“That’s where the bailiffs said you came from.” Charlotte’s stare held no remorse. “So that’s where I went.”

“You had no business doing so.” My lips were stiff. “No business coming here.”

Charlotte cocked her head. “You going to help me, or not? There’s plenty in it for ya. Joe, they say, stashed away a good bit before he fell off his perch. Was pushed off, I think, by that rat.”

So many emotions chased through me that I wondered how I could remain standing at all.

“Your husband never had money in his life,” I said sharply. “Even if he had acquired some, it would have slipped through his fingers or been poured down his throat before long. I want nothing to do with him, or the few coins he might have found by the wayside. And I want nothing to do with you.”

My jaw so rigid I feared it might break, I turned on my heel and made for the stairs to the kitchen.

“You’re a frosty bitch, ain’t ya?” Charlotte called to me. “Joe only wanted you on your back. But he came home to me.”

I refused to listen any longer. I marched down the stairs, pretending dignity, but my heart pounded and bile roiled in my stomach.

Charlotte called me another unflattering name, then stomped away, her boots crunching on loose stones in the street, her footsteps fading into the rumbling of wheels.

I retained the proud lift of my head until I reached the bottom step, out of sight of the road. There, my legs gave way, and I collapsed to the stairs, my arms pressed tightly over my stomach as I gasped desperately for breath.

Excerpted from The Secret of Bow Lane by Jennifer Ashley Copyright © 2022 by Jennifer Ashley. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.


 

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