1805. An engagement party is taking place for Mr Richard Montague, son of wealthy landowner Sir Edgar Montague, and his fiancee Catherine. During a dance with his beloved, a strange thing happens: a man appears at Richard's shoulder and appears to communicate something to him without saying a word. Instantly breaking off the engagement, he rushes off to speak to his father, never to be seen again. Distraught with worry, Catherine sends for her spinster aunt, Miss Dido Kent, who has a penchant for solving mysteries. Catherine pleads with her to find her fiance and to discover the truth behind his disappearance. It's going to take a lot of logical thinking to untangle the complex threads of this multi-layered mystery, and Miss Dido Kent is just the woman to do it. Who better than a discerning maiden aunt to comfort a lovelorn niece and solve a vexing mystery? No sooner has Miss Dido Kent arrived at the Montague family estate of Bellfield Hall in 1805—at the behest of her beloved niece, Catherine, whose fiancé, Richard Montague, has just departed under mysterious circumstances—than a woman is found shot in the shrubbery. Meanwhile, Lady Montague’s two nieces are being wooed by gentlemen whose motives turn out to be less than sterling, a situation about which Miss Kent also offers advice. Her primary quest, however, remains investigating the murder and young Montague’s leave-taking, and determining whether the two events are connected, which leads her to uncover long-buried family secrets. Dean’s prose captures the spirit of nineteenth-century England, and in Dido Kent, whose keen powers of observation are matched by her sharp deductive reasoning, she has created an exemplary investigator. Published in England in 2008 as A Moment of Silence, this is the first in a series and a sure bet for fans of historical mysteries. --Michele Leber "Beautifully written. Characters one cares about immediately and a mystery which becomes more urgent with every page." --Anne Perry, author of the Thomas Pitt and William Monk series “Anna Dean has captured the tricky business of presenting a clever and resourceful woman, hedged in by a tight-laced society, who turns those limitations to her own benefit. Decorative and thoughtful, BELLFIELD HALL is a worthy addition to the historical crime tradition.” – Laurie R. King, author of TOUCHSTONE "This wonderful mystery is rich in suspense, period detail, humor and most of all characters. They come alive, and none more than Miss Dido Kent. In her Anna Dean has created a masterpiece of detection, a Miss Marple-esque character both razor sharp and kindly. A totally enjoyable read!" --Louise Penny, Agatha award–winning author of the Armand Gamache mysteries "Anna Dean's elegantly-plotted debut is sure to delight Regency lovers and mystery fans alike." --Deanna Raybourne, author of SILENT IN THE GRAVE Anna Dean set about crafting stories at the age of five under the impression that everyone was taught to write in order to pen books. By the time she discovered her mistake, the habit was too deeply ingrained to give up. She resides in the Lake District of England. Chapter One Bellfield Hall, Monday, 23rd September 1805 My dear Eliza, I must begin another letter to you, although it is not six hours since I sent my last. I have some news to communicate which I think will surprise you not a little. Miss Dido Kent hesitated, her pen suspended over the page. All her education and almost thirty years’ experience of writing letters had not quite prepared her for this situation. As well as she could recall, the rules of etiquette said nothing about the correct way in which to convey the news that she now had to impart. However, her governess had once told her that the very best style of writing was that which gave information simply and clearly without any excess of sensibility. She dipped her pen into the ink and continued. There has been a woman found dead here – in the shrubbery – this evening. She read what she had written, thought for a little while, then added: It was the under-gardener who found her. Her sister would wish to be reassured that it was not a member of the family, or one of their guests, who had made the horrible discovery. Looking at the words gleaming blackly in the light of her candle, Dido thought for a moment how strange it was that something so extraordinary should be contained within the familiar, flowing pattern of the script, looking no more strange than a report upon the weather or an account of a sermon heard in church. Then she continued, her pen beginning to move more steadily as she found herself drawn away from the simple giving of information to that commentary upon men and women which seemed to come most naturally to her whenever she had a blank page before her. No one knows who the dead woman can be. Sir Edgar and Lady Montague are quite sure that they know nothing of her. They are both, of course, deeply shocked. He, as you may imagine, is very much exercis