By Janet Laurence
London 1903: American Ursula Grandison is once more invovled with homicide, this time in London. As she struggles to make a residing in a society the place ladies have few rights and little freedom, she groups up with previous pal and personal investigator Thomas Jackman, who quickly unearths himself once more drawing on Ursula's investigative talents as they conflict to save lots of an blameless lady from the noose. Set opposed to a history of Edwardian constraints and the struggle for women's suffrage, Ursula and Jackman steadily recognize they're up opposed to a refined and hazardous killer who moves back ahead of they could shut the case.
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Extra resources for A Fatal Freedom (Ursula Grandison, Book 1)
On a whim, I asked them both, “Did either of you hear anything about a plane crash last night? ” Donny asked, again much too gleefully. ” The bell rang, reminding me that my fourth-period class was on the other side of campus, but at least it smelled better than the cafeteria. We had to wait for a pack of sneetches, several of them in cheerleader uniforms, to file past our table. As per their social custom, they made no eye contact with those of us without stars upon thars. When one of the varsity basketball players tried to pass without even seeing us, Donny drew the line.
Sure, he could be gruff and impossibly strict, but I was all he had. Things would have been different if my mother hadn’t died, but there was no sense going down that road. Especially today. I sprinted down the stairs and then chastised myself for the recklessness since Father wasn’t there to do it for me. I took the vitamin he’d left out, drank the juice he’d poured, and ate the biscuit—I mean cookie—only after I’d first doublechecked that he’d actually left, and then made sure no stray crumbs would give me away.
I was going to have to look. Resigned, I walked the distance from my bed to the window, and it seemed to stretch farther and farther away, the way things do in nightmares. I touched the glass first—it was cool, of course. My fingers splayed on the window and I leaned into it, looking down, hoping to find the perfectly manicured lawn I’d known just yesterday. But the perfection was marred and the grass seared where he’d lain. The burning man. My heartbeat sputtered and restarted, thumping wildly and faltering with its own rhythm.
A Fatal Freedom (Ursula Grandison, Book 1) by Janet Laurence