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Named a Sydney Taylor Notable Book of the Year for 2010!
The Disappearing Dowry
An Ezra Melamed MysteryPublished by Zahav Press
Libi Astaire
The Disappearing Dowry
Enter the picturesque world of Regency England.
It is the summer of 1810. The Lyon family of London is eagerly preparing for the wedding of their eldest daughter Hannah. But as the women bustle from the dressmaker to the haberdasher, Mr. Samuel Lyon, a well-respected clockmaker and member of London's Jewish elite, suffers a crushing blow.
In the blink of an eye Mr. Lyon's entire fortune is lost. Not only has his bank gone bankrupt, but someone has stolen the last of his money. Instead of leading Hannah to the chuppah, Mr. Lyon might be leading his devastated family to the debtor's ward of Newgate Prison.
The Lyons are on the verge of despair when help arrives from an unexpected source: Mr. Ezra Melamed, wealthy widower and benefactor of London’s Jewish community. Anxious to help Mr. Lyon recover his fortune, Mr. Melamed goes beyond London's fashionable streets to search for clues in the darkest places. With only a key, a button, and a few cryptic words from a Chassidic Rebbe to guide him, can Mr. Melamed restore the disappearing dowry to its rightful owners...before the Lyon family faces total ruin?
Libi Astaire, highly acclaimed author and journalist , opens up a whole new genre with this masterful tale of suspense. Her rich tapestry of unforgettable characters and her vivid portrayal of Regency London capture the charm of historical fiction, with the intriguing twist of a Jewish mystery.
Book Excerpt from The Disappearing Dowry
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The Disappearing Dowry:
A
brilliant new Jewish mystery novel by acclaimed author Libi Astaire
that will whisk you away to the picturesque world of Regency England.
The first Jewish historical fiction novel of the Ezra Melamed series,
this is a masterfully written & richly woven tale.
|
Chapter One
“What can be taking them so long? It is so unlike your father to be so inconsiderate.”
Mrs. Rose Lyon, an amiable wife, mother, and woman of valor, glanced over at the closed door. On the other side of that wooden encumbrance was the library, a room that normally did not hold much interest for the lady of the house. But on this particular evening the library was the center of the entire family’s attention, for it was there that Mr. Samuel Lyon, the family patriarch, was engaged in conversation with Mr. Mayer Goldsmith.
“Papa and Mr. Goldsmith must have a great deal to talk about,” replied Hannah, the eldest daughter of the Lyon family. She did not raise her eyes from the white tablecloth she was embroidering, although the blush in her cheeks revealed to all that she, too, was more than a little interested in the conversation taking place in the next room.
“I disagree,” said Mrs. Lyon. “You, my dear Hannah, are the finest eighteen-year-old girl in the world. Mr. Goldsmith’s son, David, is the finest twenty-one-year-old boy in the world. What could be more natural than for the two of you to be married?”
“There are the financial matters to consider, Mama,” said Hannah, still sewing and still blushing. “Perhaps Mr. Goldsmith is hoping to secure a greater fortune for his only son.”
“Nonsense! Mr. Goldsmith may have recently sold half the contents of his jeweler’s shop to the Duke of York, but everyone knows that Royal Dukes buy on credit and so it will be years before Mr. Goldsmith sees his money. Your father is the match of Mr. Goldsmith — or any Jewish merchant in London — when it comes to real wealth or, for that matter, a noble clientele.”
Mrs. Lyon suddenly glanced nervously about the room. To boast of one’s good fortune was to invite the Evil Eye to unleash its malicious powers. And so even though Mrs. Lyon prided herself upon being born and bred in London, the most modern and advanced city in Europe, she quickly called upon the powerful remedy against the Evil Eye that she had learned from her grandmother, who had learned it as a child from her grandmother in her native city of Prague.
“Pooh! Pooh! Pooh!” said Mrs. Lyon, in rapid succession and with quick determination. Then, just to make sure that her carelessly spoken words would do no harm, she uttered the following blessings, “May the Holy One, Blessed be His Name, bless all the Jews of England and elsewhere with prosperity, good health, and peace! And G-d save the King!”
“Amen, amen,” replied her children.
Having thus disposed of the Evil Eye, Mrs. Lyon returned her attention to the matter at hand and called to her second eldest daughter, “Rebecca, do you not feel the need for some exercise?”
(Reader, this daughter called Rebecca is I! But I have already revealed to you my secret: For the purpose of the telling of this story, I have disguised myself behind the sphinx-like visage of the Narrator.)
Rebecca looked up from the china plate that she was painting with surprise. “Do you mean to take a walk around Devonshire Square at this late hour, Mama?”
“Of course not, Rebecca. But I thought we might take a few turns around the room.”
As Mrs. Lyon had already stood up, Rebecca had no choice but to set aside her paintbrush and dutifully comply. Mother and daughter walked together, arm in arm, down the length of the room.
When they reached the end, Mrs. Lyon lingered for several moments, her head slightly tilted toward the closed door.
“Mama, put your ear to the keyhole! You’ll hear ever so much better,” advised Joshua, who at the tender age of five had shown himself more than once to be a master at overhearing private conversations.
“My precious child, I shall do nothing of the sort,” said Mrs. Lyon sternly, as she reluctantly walked away from the door. “Nothing is further from my mind than to intrude upon a conversation that I have not been invited to participate in. And I am most surprised that a child of mine should advise such a course of action. If I did not know that you are small for your age and therefore unable to reach the keyhole, I do not know what I should think.”
“But I can reach the keyhole,” Joshua protested. Then he ran to fetch a footstool, which he carried over to the door. After carefully removing his slippers, so as not to leave a mark on the silk brocade fabric, he climbed upon the footstool and pressed his ear to the keyhole.
“Joshua! Get away from that door at once!” Hannah cried out.
“Hush, Hannah,” Joshua replied. “How’s a fellow to hear?”
“Your sister is right, Joshua,” Mrs. Lyon said with a small sigh. After a few seconds had passed, she added, “Please put the footstool back in its place.”
Joshua made a great show of climbing down from his perch and sticking his feet into his slippers. “Very well, Mama, if you insist.”
“I hope you did not hear even three words, Joshua,” said Mrs. Lyon, as she watched her son push the footstool back in its place.
“I didn’t hear three, and I didn’t hear two,” Joshua replied with a mischievous smile. “But I did hear Papa and Mr. Goldsmith say one word.”
“And what word was that?” asked Rebecca, since she knew that her mother and Hannah could hardly interrogate the little imp after chastising Joshua for his transgression.
“L’chaim!”
“What?” Mrs. Lyon exclaimed, as she looked from Joshua to Hannah and then over to the door, before collapsing onto a nearby chair and bursting into joyful tears.
Hannah, meanwhile, had let her piece of embroidery fall to the floor and risen from her chair. Rebecca rushed over to Hannah to shower her with kisses, while their two younger sisters, Esther and Sarah, joined hands and began to twirl around the floor.
The two younger Miss Lyons were just about to crash into Joshua, who was busy jumping up and down from excitement, when the door to the library swung open and Mr. Lyon and Mr. Goldsmith entered the room.
“Mazel tov, Mrs. Lyon!” Mr. Lyon cried out. “Mazel tov, Hannah! You’re a...”
Mr. Lyon, noticing the scene taking place in his drawing room with more than a little dismay, fell silent.
“It appears, Lyon,” Mr. Goldsmith said with a smile, “that your family has already heard the news.”
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