Death at the Sign of the Rook: A Jackson Brodie Book

Detective Constable Reggie Chase is a recurring character in the Jackson Brodie novels, first introduced as a 16-year-old nanny in When Will There Be Good News? (2008). Reggie’s initial reluctance to involve herself in Jackson’s investigation highlights their contrasting personality traits. Her conviction that justice is achievable by following the proper channels clashes with Jackson’s unconventional approach to sleuthing. Their differing assessment of Beatrice’s guilt in the art thefts demonstrates that Reggie does not entirely embrace Jackson’s more nuanced perception of the moral complexities of justice.

Despite their contrasting professional ideologies, Reggie and Jackson have significant factors in common. Both have been shaped by their disadvantaged socio-economic backgrounds and the legacy of loss. Orphaned when her mother drowned in a tragic accident, Reggie became independent at an early age, driven by a determination to transcend her circumstances. Having “fought against horrible odds herself to get an education” (136), she is highly intelligent, fiercely ambitious, and has a passion for knowledge. The affectionate bond between Reggie and Jackson is evident throughout Death at the Sign of the Rook. Jackson’s introduction of himself as Reggie’s father on more than one occasion underlines the paternal feelings he has developed for her. Meanwhile, Reggie sees in Jackson a figure of stability and care that is otherwise absent in her life. Recognizing that Jackson is “the one person who could be guaranteed never to leave her behind if she was in trouble” (265), she immediately calls him when she wakes up stranded in the blizzard.

Reggie often experiences frustration as others fail to take her seriously as a police officer due to her size and youth. Lady Milton’s assessment of her as a “Scottish child masquerading as a detective” is typical of how she is perceived (45). She also occasionally questions her inner strength when she succumbs to fear, such as her panic attack in the Miltons’ pantry. However, Reggie defies the limitations associated with her age and appearance when she saves Ben’s life and bravely confronts Carl Carter. Ben’s comparison of Reggie to Joan of Arc as she attacks Carter with a poker undercuts earlier patronizing assessments of her abilities.

Lady Milton’s narrative perspective illustrates two of the novel’s central themes: the legacy of loss and change in British society. The elderly aristocrat suffers the simultaneous loss of a valuable Turner painting and her housekeeper Sophie. Furthermore, she experiences an identity crisis as the privileges to which she has become accustomed are eroded by social modernization. As her late husband’s estate is sold off piecemeal, and the rest transformed into a major tourist attraction, Lady Milton perceives herself as one of “an endangered species” (133). However, her self-pity is undercut by working-class characters such as Reggie, who observes that the Miltons appear to be “thriving compared to most people” (133), putting Lady Milton’s idea of being “destitute” into perspective.

Lady Milton is a snob whose sense of entitlement leads her to perceive other people as existing for her convenience, but at the same time, her character is not entirely unsympathetic, creating a complex character. The narrative suggests that Lady Milton is a product of the class system to which she was born, and her privileges have not necessarily brought happiness. The novel draws parallels between the young Lady Milton and Dorothy Padgett as both enter marriage with little life experience. She recollects that before she married Lord Milton, he had a reputation for being “[v]ery safe in taxis” (31), a dated euphemism for being gay, but she remains naively oblivious to the implication. However, her description of being “separated from Johnny by the polished wasteland of a Chippendale table” conveys the lack of intimacy in their largely sexless marriage (41). Lady Milton’s memory of the brief affair that resulted in Cosmo’s birth suggests her lack of unfulfillment and craving for love. Meanwhile, her brooding over the loss of Sophie implies a profound loneliness that the housekeeper’s company helped to fill.

Lady Milton’s impotence is highlighted at the beginning of the narrative when she “reache[s] out a hand for the bell-pull to call for the tea-tray, but it seem[s] unlikely that anyone [will] answer” (49). Reliant on the service of others for everyday tasks, she is at a loss when reliable staff can no longer be found. However, in the novel’s final chapters, her character takes on a new dynamism after successfully fending off the violent criminal Carl Carter. Lady Milton’s focus on new horizons with Derek Truitt suggests that by embracing change, she may survive the aristocracy’s extinction.

Reverend Simon Cate serves a dual role in the novel. On one level, he fulfills a stock character of the murder mystery genre, echoing the character of the Reverend Smallbones in the production Death Comes to Rook Hall. At the same time, his narrative perspective conveys a highly complex character who bears no resemblance to the two-dimensional vicars frequently portrayed in Golden Age detective fiction. From Lady Milton’s viewpoint, Simon is an unorthodox minister with “rather wild hair and some odd ideas” (47). Furthermore, his inner life is portrayed as particularly tortured. He embodies the novel’s theme of the legacy of loss, having lost his voice, faith, and, years earlier, his baby son.

Simon attributes his conversion to Christianity to ischemia (a briefly restricted blood flow to the brain), displaying his sense of humor and the absurd. In Chapter 5, “Return from Damascus,” Simon’s loss of faith is portrayed as the reverse of Paul the Apostle’s conversion, and the loss of his voice is an unconscious refusal to continue reciting ideologies in which he no longer believes. While Simon feels guilty and purposeless in his fraudulent role as a vicar, he nevertheless brings comfort to his parishioners, visiting the elderly and offering hope to Ben, another lost soul. Paradoxically, as he grows increasingly disengaged from conventional Christianity, Simon becomes more spiritual and compassionate. His innate empathy for animals and nature causes Ben to compare him to “a latter-day St Francis” (100). Simon’s abandonment of his faith in favor of alternative ideologies expands on Atkinson’s exploration of change in British society. In the face of the Church of England’s declining power (reflected in St. Martins’ small and elderly congregations), Simon’s animism offers an alternative, more egalitarian worldview.

Retired Army major Ben Jennings echoes the stock character of Major Liversedge in Death Comes to Rook Hall. However, at 34, he is considerably younger than his stereotypical counterpart. Returning from Afghanistan as an amputee with PTSD, Ben embodies the impact of both physical and psychological loss. Atkinson depicts Ben’s trauma and feeling of purposelessness as his missing leg, lost career, and absent fiancé strip him of his sense of identity and seem to signal an empty future. The sanctuary his sister offers at the Dairy Cottage, along with her “waifs and strays” from the animal world (98), signals her recognition that he is a lost soul. Ben becomes increasingly reclusive as everyday life becomes a daunting “battlefield.”

The ordeal Ben experiences at Burton Makepeace House marks a turning point in his character’s trajectory. Faced with a series of unexpected tasks, from finding a wheelbarrow for a dead body to fulfilling the role of the Miltons’ butler, he easily rises to these challenges. Furthermore, when confronted with the armed criminal Carl Carter, rather than suffering battlefield flashbacks, he is surprisingly “energized by the thought of a firefight” (292), reconnecting with his former identity as a person of action. 

At the same time, Ben’s reluctance to kill Carter demonstrates the sensitivity and compassion he has developed since retirement. His resuscitation after Carter attacks him marks his second return from the brink of death and starkly contrasts with the first. Atkinson suggests a rebirth as Ben emerges from his trials with a new capacity for happiness, and his romance with Reggie is a sign of the promising future ahead. Reggie’s conviction that Ben’s limp makes “him even more handsome” highlights how Ben’s survival of trauma and his determination to build a new life are ultimately attractive qualities (245).