At first I took great pleasure from what I took to be an undiscovered classic of the golden age - but when I realised that the author is still among us, alive and well and living in the US, my attitude began to change. So well done is the pastiche, so perfectly judged the language (plot, too, pace and tone), that when the sense of awe had passed, shock set in at the very pointlessness of the exercise. Everything here has been done a hundred times before, a hundred years ago, often no better, but by no means always worse; Daisy Dalrymple adds nothing to the sum of human happiness already amassed by St Agatha and all her acolytes. Unless, perhaps, one is in the mood to accept as humorous the idea of one character marrying to become 'Gwen Miller' ... ?
While there is no need for every country house murder mystery to descend to parody, perhaps just a touch of irony might have leavened what wants to be a souffle but remains a rather plain, if delicate madeira?