A back cover blurb calls it "pitch perfect" -- what it might have been pitch perfect as, I'm not sure, but it wasn't as Austen pastiche, of which it managed about three successful sentences in the whole novel. (Also, "paradigm" early and "eradicably" later hit my "I don't think that word means what you think it means" button.)
As for the mystery, there wasn't any attempt at detecting whatsoever. It's more of a procedural, if you count "resolutely suspecting, trying, and convicting the obvious suspect and only finding out you were wrong when the real killer conveniently confesses" as a procedure.
But its worst fault was its constant infodumping. Even my mother, who otherwise enjoyed the book, was irritated by that. I swear I'm not exaggerating that half the book consisted of infodumps, from first page, when Elizabeth couldn't even walk into a room without reflecting for pages on end about the last few years, to the last several chapters where the characters painstakingly narrate to each other stories full of details about their several motives which the reader already guessed half the book ago.
As a Pride and Prejudice sequel, it failed miserably; as a murder mystery it wasn't much better.