View source for The Luck of the Vails by E F Benson

{{infobox1
|title=The Luck of the Vails
|sort=Luck of the Vails, The
|author=E F Benson
|reviewer=Lesley Mason
|genre=Crime (Historical)
|rating=5
|buy=Yes
|borrow=Yes
|isbn=9780099572435
|pages=441
|publisher=Vintage Books
|date=October 2013
|website=
|video=
|summary=Murderous intent in the Vail country house follows when a fabled family heirloom is discovered on the eve of the latest Lord Vail's 21st birthday.  From the author of the Mapp and Lucia series, this is a light and easy read - for those who like their crime 'puzzling' rather than 'gut-wrenching'.  
|cover=Benson_Luck
|aznuk=0099572435
|aznus=0099572435
}}
''The sequestered village of Vail lies in a wrinkle of the great Wiltshire downs, and is traversed by the Bath Road.''  Of course the big inn is called ''The Vail Arms'' and about a mile from the village is ''the big house''.   Benson doesn't name the house – indeed it wouldn't have needed a name.  Locally it would just be known as the big house, and any local delivery person would know where to deposit any attached to Lord Vail.

In a few short pages Benson conjures up this world of BBC period drama du jour.  The pre-war years of the early twentieth century when the landed gentry were already struggling to maintain their former glory in their massive servanted country houses.  Feeling the pinch as they wonder whether they can afford to install electric light, or whether the park should be attended first, but still maintaining a suitable retinue, having a flat in London for the season and not yet feeling the need to actually graft very much.  The land itself was still, just about, if well-managed, paying its way.   Much would change over the next couple of decades, but for now, a comfortable country house is no bad thing to own.

Harry Vail certainly felt that way.  The latest Lord in a long line of Vails, he is however in a curious position.  Something of a recluse by his own admission, he finds himself approaching his 21st birthday with a paucity of friends.  So few in fact, that his birthday party consists only of himself, his dearest friend Geoffrey and his uncle Francis.

The ageing Francis is something of an outcast, having been the subject of some scandal following an unfortunate death some years previously.  Although absolved of all blame, he was never fully accepted back into society.  Harry adores him however.  This is fortunate for Francis – for not only is he now impoverished and effectively living on Harry's grace and favour, he is also the young man's heir.

There was once another Francis.  The second baronet holds sway in the Holbein portrait that has pride of place among the ancestors above the great fireplace.  Bearing an uncanny resemblance to his living namesake, the figure in the picture is a much more taciturn individual, some might even say sinister.  But the man is not the point of the portrait.  The point is the chalice that he holds.  A golden goblet encrusted with pearls and rubies and emeralds and blue diamonds.  This is ''the Luck''  ~ the eponymous ''Luck of the Vails''.

Many stories had been told of The Luck, but it had been lost for centuries and its loss was held to be the reason for the waning fortunes of the family.  Lost, that is, until just before his 21st birthday, young Harry finds it hidden in an attic.

In the best fairy tale tradition there is a legend inscribed on the artefact:  ''When the Luck of the Vails is lost; fear not fire nor rain nor frost; When the Luck is found again, fear both fire and frost and rain.''

Ungrammatical perhaps, and just a bit of wheeze… or so it seems until three unusual accidents set Harry thinking that maybe there is more to it than that.

As a curse goes, however, it seems to be a tad weak in its effect and as our young hero transcends his reclusive nature, launches himself upon the London season and falls in love, he holds that the Luck is truly returned back to the Vails.

But should curses be taken so lightly?  

Sinister forces are indeed awoken at Vail… there is a threat of murder in the air.

E F Benson is most famous for the Mapp and Lucia series, but for those who like me are only vaguely aware of those classics, and unfamiliar with the author, the style can best be described as a cross between [[:Category:P G Wodehouse|P G Wodehouse]] and [[:Category:Margery Allingham|Margery Allingham]].   His characters sparkle with nonsense conversation and semi-satirical wit, beloved of Wodehouse, but his plot is tight and twisted and serious in Allingham or Christie vein.  As with those authors, there is a degree of coincidence and unlikelihood and narrative imperative that must be taken with the usual suspended disbelief.

His landscapes are vivid.  If the descriptions are full of purple prose, it's hard to tell at this remove whether this was a natural floridity, which might be accused of pretentiousness, or whether it was a tongue-in-cheek nod to novels of a half-century or so earlier.  Taken to be the latter, it can be read with delight.

''Delight'' is possibly not a word to be attributed to the reading of a tale of greed and madness and murder but there is a certain genre of crime story-telling which – either by design, or because of the shift in society since it was first written – is indeed just such a simple pleasure to read.  There's the intrigue, the puzzle to be worked out before it's disclosed, the red herrings to be ignored, the lovingly-crafted imagery and gentle mocking humour, the violence and the threat of it lurk ''thrillingly'' in the back-ground but somehow evade being the point of the exercise.  

Not to everyone's taste I'm sure, but for those who are currently lamenting the impending ending of the Suchet's wonderful TV interpretation of Poirot… picking up a Benson might be some comfort.

Loved it!

For a more deliberately humourous take on the country house murder, you might enjoy [[The Herring In The Library by L C Tyler]] - or to stay with the plot-driven crime puzzle we recommend [[Coroner's Pidgin by Margery Allingham]].

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