First Book Title: The Whispering Women
Series: Delafield & Malloy Investigations
Author: Trish MacEnulty
Publication Date: 09/06/22
Publisher: Prism Light Press
Page Length: 387
Genre: Historical Mystery, Women’s Fiction
The Whispering Women, Book #1, A Delafield & Malloy Investigation
The Burning Bride, Book #2, A Delafield & Malloy Investigation
Secrets and Spies, Book #3, A Delafield & Malloy Investigation
by Trish MacEnulty
Blurb:
“Richly drawn characters, the vibrant historical setting, and a suspenseful mystery create a strong current that pulls readers into this delightful novel. But it's the women's issues—as relevant today as they were in the early 1900s—that will linger long after the last page."
-- Donna S. Meredith, The Southern Literary Review
Can two women get the lowdown on high society?
“Two powerless young women must navigate a soul-crushing class system and find the levers of power they wield when they combine their strengths. These women may have been taught to whisper, but when their time comes, they will roar.”
– 5 Star Amazon Review
Louisa Delafield and Ellen Malloy didn’t ask to be thrown together to bring the truth to light. But after Ellen witnesses the death of a fellow servant during an illegal abortion, Louisa, a society columnist, vows to help her find the truth and turn her journalistic talent to a greater purpose.
Together, these unlikely allies battle to get the truth out, and to avenge the wrongful death of a friend.
What will our heroes do when their closest allies and those they trust turn out to be the very forces working to keep their story in the dark? They’ll face an abortionist, a sex trafficking ring, and a corrupt system determined to keep the truth at bay.
“If you like historical fiction and if you like mysteries, this one is for you!”
– 5 Star Amazon Review
Was change possible in 1913?
To find out, read THE WHISPERING WOMEN today!
Buy Links:
The books in this series are available to read on Kindle Unlimited.
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/47Vrla
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Whispering-Women-Delafield-Malloy-Investigation-ebook/dp/B0B9W2WG8T/
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Whispering-Women-Delafield-Malloy-Investigation-ebook/dp/B0B9W2WG8T/
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/Whispering-Women-Delafield-Malloy-Investigation-ebook/dp/B0B9W2WG8T/
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-whispering-women-trish-macenulty/1142117381?ean=9781737575177
Author Bio:
Trish MacEnulty is a bestselling novelist. In addition to her historical fiction, she has published novels, a short story collection, and a memoir. A former Professor of English, she currently lives in Florida with her husband, two dogs, and one cat. She writes book reviews and feature articles for the Historical Novel Review. She loves reading, writing, walking with her dogs, streaming historical series, cooking, and dancing.
Social Media Links:
Website: https://trishmacenulty.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/pmacenulty
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Trish-MacEnulty/author/B01G4A797G
Book Excerpt:
After she typed up her column and dropped it into the basket for the copy boy, Louisa sat at her desk and combed through the stack of letters and invitations. She glanced over some publicity material from B. Altman’s and sharpened her pencils. She made a note of upcoming weddings. When she’d finally run out of things to fiddle with, she looked over at the editor’s office. A workman had just finished stenciling the letters “Virgil Thorn, Editor-in-Chief” on the door. He stood back to admire his handiwork. As soon as the workman left, she pulled her shoulders back, marched across the room, and knocked.
“Enter!” a voice called.
The office was filled with heavy oak furniture and cluttered with papers, books, and boxes not yet emptied. The new editor stood over his desk, blue pencil in hand, marking up the layout of the front page of tomorrow’s paper. She waited for him to acknowledge her. He finally straightened to his full height and gazed at her with gray eyes behind wire-rimmed spectacles. A crisp mustache adorned his upper lip like two slender wings.
“You’re rather fancy for a secretary,” he said, giving her the once over. His British accent was not a surprise. She’d heard that he came from Fleet Street, and his origins were reinforced by his attire — the high stiff collar, narrow silk tie, and worsted vest with a gold chain across the front — much more formal than what American newspaper men wore these days.
“I’m not a secretary. I’m the society writer,” she informed him. “Louisa Delafield.”
“I see,” he said, lifting a newspaper from his desk. “I’ve been reading your columns, Miss Delafield. Apparently, Miss Dorothy Bloodgood wore a yellow chiffon ‘Poiret’ to a dance party. And the esteemed sculptress Gertrude Whitney attended in a clingy sheath dress by ‘the fashionable Fortuny.’” He stopped and looked at her. “Does anybody actually care what these toffs wear?”
Louisa’s mouth dropped open. The previous editor had exhorted her to write about “babies and bonnets,” but had never questioned her judgment as to how she covered society doings.
“Of course, my readers want to know what society women are wearing,” she said, trying to quell her indignation. “The designers want their names in the paper, the ladies want the public to know they have the very best, and women all over the world are curious as to the wardrobes of Manhattan’s socialites.”
“We’re not publishing a paper to aggrandize a bunch of French designers…” Thorn began.
“Fortuny is Italian,” Louisa corrected.
“Forgive me. European designers. You do know you have American readers, don’t you? How many ordinary Americans do you think can actually afford to dress like these socialites?” he asked.
“People want to know about the upper crust, what they do, what they eat, and most of all, what they wear,” she said. “And many of our readers are these socialites.”
This conversation was not going at all the way she had planned. She decided to change tactics and try to mollify the man. Her imperious façade might work well when she was covering society, but this man didn’t give a fig about her family name or her high society airs.
“You may be right,” she said in a conciliatory tone. “I was thinking that we could expand the women’s page to add more relevant stories. Perhaps include a feature or two…”
He waved a hand at her.
“Miss Delafield, I must inform you that we shall not expand the women’s section. I’m thinking of getting rid of it altogether,” he said. He noticed the stricken look on her face and added, “I’m sorry, but you must understand. I’ve been hired to increase circulation. To do that, I’ve had to make certain changes. The men who read our paper are interested in business, sports, motorcars, and that sort of thing.”
Louisa stood perfectly still. It didn’t seem to matter what the women readers wanted.
“You’ll keep your column, of course, but not on a daily basis,” he continued, then formed his lips into a grim, tight-lipped approximation of a smile. “We’ll still run it three times a week.”
“I see,” Louisa said. Louisa no longer had wealth, but she was still a Delafield. Her lips would not tremble, and tears would not stain her face. Without a word, she turned to leave, and the editor turned back to his work, but then he called after her.
“Miss Delafield, I’ll consider running your column more often if you spice it up a bit.”
She turned to face him again. “Spice it up?”
“Dig up some dirt on these socialites. Throw in a scandal or two. Trust me, readers are much more interested in seeing the high and mighty brought down a notch than they are in their clothing styles. Give them what they really want,” he said as he hovered over a dummy sheet with his pencil in hand. “Dirt.”
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