Dorothea Hall Mysteries

Echoes

I did not sleep well that night. I couldn't help thinking of all these echoes of the past coming back to haunt people. We all hide things from each other, but some things seem unforgivable. I remembered a time when Lady Kingsbury had left for a visit to her elder sister. Carmella and I had been ten and there had been discussions of which, if any, of her daughters would go with her. We had assumed she just wanted a rest from home life, she had stayed longer and longer. Finally Lord Kingsbury had gone to fetch her. We were never told why it happened, but I could assume the two had a falling out and she had needed time away.

My own parents had been very loving, but they had also lived apart for a number of years, Father only visiting on his day off. Maybe part of their success had been not living in each other's pockets all the time.

Would there be a time when Emory and I didn't want to spend all our time with each other? Unlike my friend and employer, I did want children. She teased that she would be the glamorous auntie to my children as well as to her siblings. When I was raising our children, would I start to resent Emory's busy career? I swore to myself to be a good communicator and ask my husband for the help I would need.

When he arrived late that night I kissed him passionately and we reaffirmed our love for each other. Then I could sleep.

Maggie appeared at my door bright and early the next day. "I hope this works. When Father and I came home late last night, Mother was furious. She threatened to go stay in a hotel while they waited for the auction. I had to convince her to take some time to calm down. And of course Father was no help. I guess he's waiting until this morning to discuss things."

"I have an odd question for you. Was one of your siblings born within a year of Mary?" I asked.

"I was. Why do you ask?"

"Do you know my mother, Mrs. Smith?"

"Of course. She was the one who recommended I come talk to you."

I smiled. My mother had decided to send me business, it seemed. This was a wrinkle. If Mr. Beckham didn't see the strong resemblance between his two daughters, I would eat my hat. They could be twins. I should have realized they were almost the same age. If my mother's theory was correct, and Mrs. Beckham had relations with another man soon after her son's birth, she must have gone back to her husband's embrace soon after. Maybe, Mr. Beckham, feeling guilty, had simply assumed she had an affair as well. Maybe he didn't want to admit to not trusting her in return. Maybe he wasn't arguing with his wife because he thought her anger and mistrust was justified. One way or another, we were about to find out.