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    The Oldest Flame: A Mrs. Meade Mystery
    The Oldest Flame: A Mrs. Meade Mystery
    The Oldest Flame: A Mrs. Meade Mystery
    Ebook74 pages48 minutes

    The Oldest Flame: A Mrs. Meade Mystery

    By Elisabeth Grace Foley

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Mrs. Meade had been looking forward to a pleasant visit with old friends—but their house party turns to disaster when a fire destroys the house during the night. Even worse, the fire appears to have been deliberately set. Which of the people who were in the house that night is responsible? There are several possibilities, and Mrs. Meade is not sure which is the most distressing...

    "The Oldest Flame" is a novelette, approximately 17,800 words long.

    The Mrs. Meade Mysteries are a series of historical mystery shorts, each just the perfect length to accompany a cup of tea or coffee for a cozy afternoon. Fans of classic lady sleuths such as Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple are sure to be delighted to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Meade, and history lovers will enjoy each quick trip back to the turn of the 20th century for the puzzles both quaint and dramatic which come her way.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherElisabeth Grace Foley
    Release dateMar 1, 2014
    ISBN9781310138041
    The Oldest Flame: A Mrs. Meade Mystery
    Author

    Elisabeth Grace Foley

    Elisabeth Grace Foley has been an insatiable reader and eager history buff ever since she learned to read, has been scribbling stories ever since she learned to write, and now combines those loves in writing historical fiction. She has been nominated for the Western Fictioneers' Peacemaker Award, and her work has appeared online at Rope and Wire and The Western Online. When not reading or writing, she enjoys spending time outdoors, music, crocheting, and watching sports and old movies. She lives in upstate New York with her family. Visit her online at www.elisabethgracefoley.com

    Read more from Elisabeth Grace Foley

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      Book preview

      The Oldest Flame - Elisabeth Grace Foley

      The Oldest Flame: A Mrs. Meade Mystery

      By Elisabeth Grace Foley

      Cover design by Historical Editorial

      Silhouette artwork by Casey Koester

      Photo credits

      Victorian wallpaper © milalala| Vectorstock.com

      Magnifying glass © mvp | Fotolia.com

      This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book 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 person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Copyright © 2014 Elisabeth Grace Foley

      Join my email list and receive a free book! Sign up here: subscribepage.io/elisabethgfoley

      Table of Contents

      The Oldest Flame

      An excerpt from The Silent Hour

      About the Author

      The Oldest Flame

      A man would incur any danger for a woman…would

      even die for her! But if this were done simply

      with the object of winning her, where was that real love of

      which sacrifice of self on behalf of another is the truest proof?

      ~ Anthony Trollope

      Mrs. Meade gazed with much pleasure and contentment over the view from the garden bench where she sat. Below the well-kept gardens of the other houses strung out down the slope of the hill, a silvery glimpse of the river in the valley twinkled bright in the afternoon sun, with a lovely vista of wooded hills rising beyond it. Here in the garden, the air of the summer afternoon was soft and peaceful, with bees humming among the flowers and now and then the sweet piercing song of a bird from the trees high overhead.

      Mrs. Meade looked around the garden again, her admiration mixed with something like marveling. The latter expression was accompanied by a touch of motherly fondness as she turned to look at her companion, who was leaning against the tree which cast its shade over the bench.

      How you have grown, Mark! she said. The last time I saw you, you were just a rambunctious schoolboy. And now look at the fine young college man you’ve grown into.

      Mark Lansbury grinned with just a touch of self-consciousness. He was a dark, good-looking boy of nineteen, tall and athletic, with a pair of arresting, expressive brown eyes. With Mrs. Meade, whom he had always regarded in the light of a favorite aunt, he was always at his ease, and did not find it necessary to observe the dignity that had become rather more important to him since attaining the aforementioned collegiate status.

      Everything seems to have moved very quickly for your family these past few years, said Mrs. Meade. Your father’s promotion—this beautiful new house—and then you off to college. I’ve missed seeing all of you, these years you’ve been so busy. I was so very happy when I received your mother’s invitation last month, to find she had remembered me.

      She could never forget you! said Mark warmly. None of us could. Mother was always thinking about you, even when things were busiest. I’ve heard her speak of you a hundred times.

      Well, as things have turned out, I’m glad she chose this summer to invite me, since the Greys are here. It’s been so good to see them again too.

      Mark did not answer this. He picked at the smooth bark of the tree, looking down at the grass at Mrs. Meade’s feet, the animation of a moment before gone from his face. Mrs. Meade observed him quietly for a moment, and then, in a voice and manner so light and natural it could never have aroused any suspicion of ulterior motives, entered on an entirely new subject.

      How do you like college? she said. Your father told me you were doing very well, but you’ve hardly said a word about it since I’ve been here. Was your first year a good one?

      Oh, yes, it was fine, said Mark, shying a broken bit of bark at the ground. But to tell you the truth, I haven’t been thinking much about college lately.

      There’s something else on your mind, then? said Mrs. Meade, who had already divined as much.

      "Someone else, anyway," Mark mumbled, looking down again with a little color in his face.

      My dear boy, don’t tell me you’ve tumbled into a love-affair already!

      Oh, I didn’t tumble, said Mark, looking over at her with an uneasy smile, as if he already half regretted sharing his secret. It’s been coming on steadily enough. He paused. It’s Rose, of course. Could you even think it was anyone else?

      There was something different in his voice as he spoke these last words, a subtle ring of feeling that made Mrs. Meade look up at him with closer attention. His restless eyes met hers for an instant. Yes, he had grown up a good deal, she thought. Sensitive, earnest, impatient, ardent—all those qualities of youth were there in abundance, but somewhere along the way a door had opened to the capacity for a deeper feeling, one likely to throw all those very qualities into turmoil.

      Rose, she said thoughtfully. Mark nodded, watching her as if hoping to gain some sort of encouragement from her response.

      I knew you were always good friends when you were children, but I didn’t know you felt that way about her.

      Well, I do now, said Mark. "I’m in love with her—miserably in love with her,

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