In 1897 London, a young woman regains consciousness to find herself lying on the steps of the British Museum, battered and unable to remember who she is. Is she a criminal fleeing a murderous deed? Or is she a hunted victim? Her attempt to solve the mystery of her own past leads Lucy James (it isn’t a spoiler to say right now that she’s Sherlock Holmes’s daughter, as it’s on the book’s cover) into a deadly maze of danger, politics, and romance.
This book is what used to be called “a curate’s egg”: “parts of it are excellent.” The pace is fast and the writing smooth; the book’s charming and amusing. I know Holmes pastiches are controversial among fans of the Great Detective, but I enjoyed this quick romp through the Victorian underworld. However, at least some of the detail work is way off. This is a historical novel set in 1897 England. While I was able to pass off the first mention of a “prince regent” as an unfortunate minor error, it later is expanded to “His Majesty Prince Edward”—such a startling collection of errors that I found it hard to regain my willingness to believe in the story.