The salinghall error, p.1
The Salinghall Error,
p.1

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Table of Contents
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About The Salinghall Error
Praise for the Adelaide Becket series
Title Page
The Story So Far…
The Salinghall Error
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About the Author
Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey
Copyright Information
About The Salinghall Error
Lady Adelaide closes in on the German spymaster called the Doctor…
Lady Adelaide Azalea Margaret de Morville, Mrs. Hugh Becket, leads an operation to recruit a potential double agent with a connection to the Doctor, with Torin Slane, the Irish professor and Fenian, and Daniel Bannister, Baron Leighton, to assist her. All three work under the cover of the traditional Salinghall Christmas Eve Ball, which Adele’s family has attended every year for decades.
But returning home for Christmas, after eloping with a commoner many years ago, comes with complications, including her judgemental and difficult father and her trouble-prone sisters.
Only, the real trouble comes from a completely unexpected direction, putting Adele on a collision course with the Doctor himself…
This novelette is the sixth in the Adelaide Becket Edwardian espionage series.
1.0: The Requisite Courage
2.0: The Rosewater Debutante
3.0: The Unaccompanied Widow
4.0: The Lavender Semaphore
5.0: The Broadcloth Midnight
6.0: The Salinghall Error
…and more to come.
A historical suspense espionage novelette.
Praise for the Adelaide Becket series
Tracy takes you again back in time to an era you could only imagine about but brings it in vivid color through her story
A delightful game of cat and mouse
I thoroughly enjoyed this magnificent first in series book!!
The writing style is easy to read and the plot COMPLETELY unpredictable!!
It was a marvelous escape from reality
Breathtaking start to a fantastic new series by Tracy Cooper-Posey.
Succinct and yet rich in the details that create historical immersion and scenes I found easy to imagine being a part.
I loooove good quality writing and I love a new series like a junkie. Just give it a try, you won't be disappointed!
The Story So Far…
Reader advisory: If you have not yet read the preceding stories in this series, this summary will reveal spoilers.
Lady Adelaide Azalea Margaret de Morville, Mrs. Hugh Becket, lived in the Cape Colony with her commoner husband for eight years. There, she learned to speak and read German. Adele was widowed in a tragic accident and returned to London in early 1906.
William Melville, a former Scotland Yard senior official and now a shadowy figure in the British government, recruits Adele to help him uncover German agents in Britain, who seek to weaken the Empire. Adele also meets Daniel Hargrave Bannister II, Baron Leighton, whom Melville also employs.
While Adele learns how to operate in Melville’s shadowy world, she foils a German conspiracy surrounding King Edward at Balmoral, uncovers an agent among Britain’s peerage and recruits the Fenian and intellectual, Torin Slane, to work for Melville, too.
When Adele’s dearest friend from the Cape Colony, Isa, suggests that Adele’s husband was a British agent working for Melville, Melville prevaricates and instead reproaches Adele for taking initiative and solving the mystery of a child’s death on her own. Adele’s commitment to the work waivers, while she weighs the personal costs asked of her.
When she uncovers the possible code name of a German spymaster—the Doctor—Melville assures Adele he values her work, and she agrees to continue…
Now read on.
The Salinghall Error
Salinghall Christmas Eve Ball, Great Saling, Braintree, Essex. December 1907.
The great manor house at Salinghall was lit by new electric lights, with every window on all five floors blazing. The light from the windows illuminated the grand concourse circling a dancing fountain, and the many motor cars disgorging their passengers upon the broad steps.
Hundreds of British peers, upper class members of the ton, along with a good sprinkling of those with pretentions, stood about the steps. The women glittered from their tiaras down to their rhinestone and jewel-enhanced dancing slippers, while the men added a graceful dark note in their tailed jackets and white ties. It was a mild night for December, which allowed them to linger, greet newcomers and secretly critique women’s gowns and jewels.
Adelaide Becket smoothed her gown’s top layer of lace over her hip, then touched her tiara to ensure it was still properly secured to her hair. Fussing in such a manner let her glance at the faces of everyone upon the steps and not be caught staring.
From inside the hall, she could hear the orchestra working its way through a minuet—a sedate dance for the start of this customary Christmas Eve ball.
“Mama, it won’t sit still,” Davinia said, her hand securing the small tiara perched upon her dark curls. Davinia was seventeen and had attended her first season this year. She was dressed in a pretty ivory gown with green sprigs embroidered upon the bodice and the train.
“Don’t push it about so, then,” her mother, Lady Cathleen, said calmly, arranging her train. “It isn’t becoming to continually wave your hands about your face.” Lady Cathleen was Adele’s oldest sister and wore a conservative dark green satin gown with matching long gloves. She glanced at Adele and smiled. “Is that not correct, Adelaide?”
“I find that sliding a clip across the teeth ensures the tiara won’t move at all,” Adele said. “The clip sits behind the tiara, so no one can see it. Plus two clips crossing each other, through the loops at the ends.”
Davinia spun to face Adelaide. “Oh, please tell me you have spare clips I may use?”
Adele opened her evening purse—carefully, for she did not want anyone in her family to see the small revolver inside it—and removed a handful of clips, which she gave to Davinia.
“A few clips are all you need for that tiny thing you are wearing, sister,” Georgina said. Georgina was Adele’s other sibling. “You are a lady and the daughter of an earl. You should be wearing a tiara that befits your station.” Georgina’s own headpiece was ridiculously large, soaring nearly five inches in the middle.
“I’m the widow of a commoner,” Adele reminded her sister, her tone flat.
Richard de Morville, their father, harrumphed loudly. “There is a place for feminine concerns to be aired and it is not upon the steps of Lord Andrew’s house.” He tugged his waistcoat into place. “We will enter, now. Adelaide, try to comport yourself in a manner which does not embarrass the family.”
Adelaide held her teeth together for a count of three. “Yes, Father.”
Cathleen caught Adele’s gloved hand in her own and tugged her up the steps. “Let’s see the ballroom decorations for this year, Adele.”
Adele let herself be drawn up the steps. Cathleen wound her arm through Adele’s and squeezed her arm with her other hand. “I am so pleased you came home for Christmas.” She kept her voice low, to discourage eavesdroppers.
“You almost begged me to,” Adele pointed out. “Three letters, at least.”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t think you would respond to any of them. You didn’t, last year. We only learned you would not be coming home for Christmas when Christmas Day arrived, and you did not.”
Adele ignored the touch of guilt stirring in her belly. “I had a difficult year, last year.” It was not a complete untruth.
“Oh, yes, of course. How dreadful of me to overlook your husband’s death like that.”
Cathleen sounded genuinely abashed at her faux pas, so Adele did not remind her that she had lost more than a husband, that she had also lost her son. Instead, she gave Cathleen a small smile. “But I am here, this year.”
Cathleen’s smile grew even warmer.
Her husband, the long and rangy Lord Stirling, climbed up beside them, his legs working. “I’m off to find the fellows,” he said shortly, his hair falling across his forehead from the vigor of his climb.
“But…a dance first, Stirling?” Cathleen called after him.
He didn’t look back.
“I’m sure Dudley will give you a dance,” Adele told Cathleen. Dudley Winston, Baron Wadebridge, was Georgina’s husband.
“Once he has danced with all the proper partners of the evening, of course,” Cathleen said.
Adelaide managed not to laugh aloud at that, for Dudley was just as sensitive to matters of propriety and one’s station as Georgina was.
Their father pushed past both of them, almost stepping on Adele’s hem. She tugged the black lace and purple satin out fro
m beneath his boots.
“Father!” Cathleen protested.
The Earl of Panfield also continued without pause into the hall.
“I’m sorry, Adelaide,” Cathleen murmured. “I don’t understand at all why he is angry with you.”
“It is because I came home for Christmas.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense at all!” Cathleen protested, as they moved up another step toward the crowded front door.
“This afternoon, after tea, he had me brought to his library and asked me how much money I needed, for he could think of no other reason why I would bother coming to Panfield, unless it was because I was in a jam I wanted him to solve for me.”
Cathleen squeezed her arm once more. “You know what he’s like, Adele. He’s all bluster. I’m sure he’s really very pleased you’re home.”
“Actually, I do believe he meant every word,” Adele said. “But it doesn’t matter, for I know why I am here.”
“And so do I,” Cathleen murmured happily.
Again, guilt nudged her, but only a little. Adele really was pleased to be here, if only because it made Cathleen so happy.
They stepped into the hall and moved along the receiving line until they reached the Marquess and his wife, then they were free to enter the ballroom itself. The music leapt in volume as they paused just inside the door to take in the streamers and flowers, candelabras, swathes of chiffon and twinkling lights.
“Oh, it’s lovely,” Cathleen breathed.
“Very pretty,” Adele agreed grudgingly.
Dudley and Georgina came up beside them and examined the room, too. “It does look rather fine,” Dudley decided.
“Exquisite,” Georgina agreed with a sigh. “Although not nearly as grand as the last evening’s dance on the Mauretania.”
“Oh…!” Cathleen breathed, on Adele’s other side. “Not again.”
Adele pressed her lips together, to avoid laughing. “Perhaps we should move out of the doorway?”
The four of them, with Davinia trailing them, edged around the borders of the ballroom, staying out of the way of the dancers.
As they brushed past those who had already found a clear spot by the walls, Georgina continued to speak breathlessly. “Of course, it was a mere dance, not a ball, and the room was smaller than Lord Andrew’s ballroom, but not that much smaller, for the Mauretania is—”
“—the largest ship in the world,” Cathleen and Adele finished together.
Georgina glared at them. “Why, I do believe you are both jealous that Dudley and I were invited to sail upon the Mauretania for its maiden voyage and you were not.”
“I am not in the slightest bit jealous, darling,” Adele assured her sister.
“But you do rattle on a bit about it,” Cathleen added.
“So would you, if you had been there,” Georgina replied. “It was simply marvelous! Do you know, I could ask for tea at any time, and the waiter would bring it to me, no matter where I was on the ship? I could have been standing upon the pointy bit at the front—”
“The bow,” Adele supplied.
“—and the waiter would have settled the tray right there on the railing for me, if I’d wanted it so!”
“Oh, speaking of which—” Cathleen said quickly. She lifted her hand in an elegant gesture, and a waiter changed directions and sidled past people to present to them the tray of champagne glasses he carried.
“Thank you,” Cathleen said heavily, reaching for one of them.
Dudley slipped two from the tray and gave one to Georgina.
The waiter turned to Adele and winked with the eye farthest from her family, for it was Torin Slane.
Adele held back her smile, picked up one of the glasses, and mouthed silently to him, help! And she rolled her eyes.
Slane’s eye fluttered in another near-wink. He whirled away in response to another raised hand.
Adele sipped the champagne. It was icy cold and very pleasant. Georgina clearly appreciated the refreshment enough to let the matter of the RMS Mauretania lapse, which was a small reprieve.
On the other side of the ballroom, Adele spotted a familiar face. In fact, most of the people at the ball were familiar to Adele to one degree or another, but this countenance was unexpected. “Why, I do believe that is Phillip Cowden,” she said, lowering her glass.
Cowden was as properly dressed as all the other gentlemen in the ballroom. He had been watching Adele. She put her head to one side and raised her brow.
He gave her a shallow bow, smiling.
“Who is that?” Georgina demanded. “Are you really inviting him over, Adele?”
“Yes,” Adele said firmly, giving Cowden a small beckoning gesture. “I know him from London.”
“I know him, too,” Cathleen said stoutly. “Mr. Cowden visits the area frequently.”
“He’s a commoner?” Georgina demanded.
“I believe he is,” Cathleen said.
Adele knew for a fact that he was, but did not confirm it. Her sister and Dudley were already glaring at Cowden, their noses up.
Cowden took several minutes to edge around the room to where they stood. “Lady Adelaide, you are a delight for the eyes.” He bent over her hand. His grey and white beard would have tickled the back of her hand, had she not been wearing gloves.
“It is an unexpected pleasure to see you here, Mr. Cowden,” Adele told him. “I did not think your beat roamed beyond London.”
“Beat?” Georgina repeated, with a bewildered air.
“May I introduce you to my family?” Adelaide told Cowden. “Those who are here at the moment, at least.” She waved toward Cathleen. “My eldest sister, Lady Cathleen of Ealand.”
“Mr. Cowden.” Cathleen’s tone was cool.
Cowden bowed once more.
“Lord Dudley, Baron Wadebridge, and Lady Georgina, Baroness Wadebridge,” Adele continued.
“Delighted,” Dudley said stiffly.
Georgina did not speak, nor hold out her hand.
“And my niece, Lady Davinia of Panfield,” Adelaide finished.
Davinia’s face flushed a rosy red. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Cowden.”
Adele examined Davinia’s flushed features. “Do you two know each other?” she asked.
Philip Cowden gave Davinia a small smile, then addressed Adele. “We have run into each other several times in Braintree, where I am staying for Christmas. We both like the goods available in the stores along the high street.”
Adele glanced at Cathleen, to see how she received this news.
Cathleen was staring at Cowden as if he was a fly upon a wedding cake.
Adele cleared her throat. “Mr. Cowden is a reporter for the Times newspaper. His beat is the society pages.”
Everyone stared at the man, now.
Cowden smiled. He did not show any embarrassment for having his profession exposed. “I am on holidays, Lady Adelaide. I am attending the ball as an invited guest and that is all.” His smile grew warmer. “Your secrets are quite safe, this evening.”
“I wonder how true that is,” Adelaide replied. “If a bloody body dropped at your feet right this instant, would you not be compelled to report upon the fact?”
“Good lord, Adelaide!” Dudley said, his voice choked.
“You always manage to be crude,” Georgina added, sounding faint.
“Lady Adelaide makes a good point though,” Cowden told them. “I would find it difficult to pass by remarkable news. However, that is not my intention here tonight. I merely wish to enjoy myself, as you are all doing.” He bowed again. “Good evening, ladies. Lord Dudley.”
Adelaide studied Davinia’s face as Cowden moved away. “How often have you spoken to Mr. Cowden when you were alone, Davinia?”
Davinia’s face turned red once more. “Only once or twice. I was with Mama sometimes, too. Mama, tell her.”
“It is true. We did meet Mr. Cowden on the high street,” Cathleen admitted. “He is a very polite man. Almost a gentleman.”
“Oh, look!” Davinia said quickly, clearly changing the subject. “There is that man…oh, what’s his name? With the eyes. It looks as though he is coming over here.”











