Victorian Era Mystery Novels Novels & Stories

She had not had time to replace her number or device yet. A chill settled in my stomach. Had Victoria just lied to me? I could not forget what Bradley had said. My mind kept returning to the image of her wearing that kinky, revealing outfit beneath her dress. Panic grew inside me, but I could not storm in and accuse her based on a few pieces of circumstantial evidence. I needed proof that Victoria was cheating. I could not behave as though the worst had already happened and start acting on assumptions. I needed real evidence. … By the time I returned with the cigarettes, Victoria had already finished making dinner.

I went to the living room and, as expected, found the pair of underwear I was looking for in his bag. Downstairs, I called my best friend. "Help me look up someone. I have shopping records." I started the car, planning to visit the real estate office to check on property transactions. Suddenly, I felt something sharp poking at me from underneath the seat. I reached down and pulled out a black lace bra. Clearly, it matched the underwear. This car was usually Milton's—since I worked near home, I usually took the subway. This meant their entanglement that night had probably started in this very car.

Good day and welcome to another story written by myself, Vanessa Nicole. The following story will have a feel of the Victorian Era as well as many other eras. There will be many triggers in this story too so I shall warn you here. I specifically love tragedy more than romance so expect some dark stuff! AND MY FANTASIES WILL BE IN THIS BOOK! Under no circumstances should you read the following story and you are younger than 18. *** I also just want to quickly take this time to say thank you to Eva Harlowe who gave me a lecture on the mannerisms and 'wordings' I never knew existed and the idea that will be added to this book some time later.

“We managed to trace a pattern. In every city she lived, there were suspicious deaths at hospitals where she worked.” The evidence is overwhelming. Victoria isn’t just a predator; she’s a methodical killer who’s spent years perfecting her techniques. “Why are you showing me this now?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer. “Because she left something for you,” he replies, picking up one last envelope. “A letter. It was in the safe as well.” My hands tremble as I take the envelope. It’s thin, the paper yellowed with age. Her scent still lingers faintly, enough to turn my stomach.

By the looks of Thomas and Sister Margaret, the idea was unanimous, and the new heroes of England had emerged. This is how the Victorian Society of Strange Occurrences was born.

The evidence we possessed was a double-edged sword, holding the power to bring justice to my mother and expose Victoria's deceit, but also leaving us vulnerable to her desperate attempts to protect her own interests. As we delved deeper into the truth, we enlisted the help of a skilled private investigator, someone who could navigate the murky waters of Victoria's connections and unearth the full extent of her crimes. Together, we meticulously built a case, gathering corroborating evidence and testimony from those who had been unwittingly caught in Victoria's web. The closer we came to exposing Victoria, the more she fought back, unleashing a barrage of threats and manipulative tactics. She

“I’m not the scared little girl you abandoned years ago. You may have killed my parents, but you won’t take this company or my life from me.” “Oh, yes, we will. You know why? Because we’ve got everything ready. Go on, check the company’s news. You’re really trending!” I rolled my eyes and picked up my phone. Notifications flooded my screen—tags, comments, and hateful articles. Did Victoria, the granddaughter of Mr. Charles Arlington, really kill Marianne? I scrolled down and saw another headline: Rumors claim Victoria married Marianne’s husband. When Marianne tried to claim what was hers, Victoria killed her!

She shrugged, a little awkwardly. I smiled back, wanting to put her at ease. “Thank you, Sie. I really appreciate it.” We flicked through some new books and papers while we waited for the pizza to arrive. They were all much the same – long, winding documentation of vampire sightings from the Victorian era, many of which were clearly allegories for something else, like impudent women or the fear of industrialisation.

and then again, this time a soft cry "Yes" His eyes seemed to blaze. "Then let it be" he whispered. His mouth crushed hers, hot and passionate. She felt herself swept high aloft, snug in his embrace. He kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot. Her toes touched the floor. Almost before she could draw breath, her gown was whisked from her shoulders. She could only watch as his clothes met the same end as hers, a forgotten pile on the rough cold floor. The light from the fire bathed him in pale, firelit glory. Though her cheeks flooded crimson, Betty could not help herself. Always before, she had hidden her face away, curious but almost desperately afraid to look. Now she could not help

Everything around me became a blur and I passed out. When I woke up, I could smell the awful odour of salt water in my surroundings. My body ached badly and I tried to turn but I felt my body stuck once again. I just got out of one room to go to the other. I looked around to see a luxurious room in front of me and I stare in awe. At least Michaella taste wasn't that bad. What is taking them so long to find me? The room had a sense of royalty of the Victorian era. The old era when ladies wore gowns which reached their ankles and corsets.