Mrs Lydia Bramble, housekeeper in charge, is unchuffed when a lady turns up not only dead but seemingly murdered, and takes it upon herself to find the murderer.

I didn’t care for this. The characters are dull, and so is the mystery. Bramble is insufferable, and only shines by going up against the stupidest oaf of a copper to ever exist.

The author obviously needed to prove just how much time they spent pouring over Hampton Court Palace maps. And holy HECK do I wish an editor had demanded mentions of Bramble’s time as an army nurse be capped to no more than 10.