Page 61
“Very good, Miss Poole.” She sounded vastly relieved. “Should I have tea brought to the drawing room?”
“Yes, please, that would be lovely.”
Mrs. Hurst turned to head toward the servant’s stairs, but Electra had one last question.
“Lady Redmayne, is she at home?”
“She is, miss, and she’s upstairs having a lie down.”
“And Sir Christopher?”
“Here and gone, miss. Said he had business in town to attend to, and he would return in time for supper.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll just go and have a tea tray prepared.”
Electra offered her a nod of gratitude and stepped into the drawing room.
Miss Beecham shot up from the settee where she’d been sitting. The girl looked much less composed than she had earlier that morning at the inquest. Indeed, she appeared almost frantic.
“Oh, Miss Poole. I feared the housekeeper was going to send me away. But I so hoped you would speak to me, even though we hadn't yet arranged an appointment.”
“I’m happy to speak with you now, Miss Beecham.”
The young lady all but sagged with relief and let out a long shuddery sigh. “It's an urgent matter and I am hoping you can be of aid.” Her eyes widened a bit. “Oh dear, do you have other appointments that I am interrupting?”
“I don't have any appointments today, and I’d like to help you, if I can.” Electra gestured to the settee as she strode over to a chair situated across from her. “Shall we sit? Mrs. Hurst is arranging for tea.”
The young woman sat gingerly, arranging the skirt of her rose-colored gown around her. She was trembling, her lips, her hands, the slight hitch of her shoulders.
Electra felt a pang of sympathy for the young lady. “Tell me why you've come and how I may help.”
“I’ve been a bit rattled since this morning. The inquest.” She didn’t seem grief stricken, but the young lady was clearly troubled. Electra tried to sense her emotions, but they were a muddle she could not parse.
“What is troubling you, Miss Beecham?”
“At one point, I was engaged to Mr. Pennington, but he broke the engagement.”
“I’m sorry,” Electra said and meant it. There was an earnestness to the young lady that she admired. “That must have been difficult to bear.”
“Oh, I don't require any sympathy, Miss Poole. I didn't want to marry Mr. Pennington, truth be told.” She frowned. “Well, the whole truth is that I was initially taken with him. I admit that. But it soon became clear that he wished to marry me because my father was offering quite an enormous dowry.”
This was an aspect of the story of the broken engagement that Gideon might find pertinent. Electra found herself wishing he was present to hear the story from Miss Beecham firsthand.
“Mr. Pennington was intrigued by the money more so than by me.”
The maid rapped on the drawing room door and then entered to place a tea tray on the low table between them.
“Thank you,” Electra murmured, then scooted forward to prepare each of them a cup of tea.
“Just a splash of milk or cream, please,” Miss Beecham told her.
Once Electra settled back with her own cup of tea, she considered the young lady’s claim that the broken engagement hadn’t bothered her.
“Is the broken engagement part of what brings you here today, Miss Beecham?”
She sipped daintily at her tea and then nodded. “Yes, in a way. Although I was not sad about my broken engagement to Mr. Pennington, my father was very upset. More upset than I've ever seen him about anything.”
