Dorothea Hall Mysteries

Whistling in the Wind

Mrs. Beckham glanced at her husband. "You might as well come in and wet your whistles."

Maggie brought three more cups to the table and we sat. Maggie poured coffee in our cups. I would have preferred tea, but it would have been rude not to take what was served. I decided to stay silent and let Mary have her say. She took a few sips of coffee first.

"Mrs. Beckham, I understand you saw me meeting my father and thought it was something untoward," she said.

"What your mother and my husband did was untoward. His meeting you is understandable." Mrs. Beckham returned to her seat. "What I don't understand is why he never admitted to having a daughter with another woman."

"You knew I was his child the whole time didn't you?" Mary asked.

"I saw the resemblance between you and our Maggie even at a distance. I thought you were her until you got closer. Why didn't you tell me you had another child? Did you think I would reject her?"

Mr. Beckham slammed the paper down. "I didn't know about her. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen."

"When did you try to tell me? I didn't hear anything from you about her."

"Before I could tell you what was going on, you started talking about a wife auction. I thought talking about my bastard daughter would make things worse."

Mary blushed at her father's use of the world bastard. I guessed he'd been on his best behavior with her so far. The Beckham's certainly had passion between them. They were not indifferent and Mrs. Beckham gave as good as she got.

"I only talked about an auction to get you to be open with me. You never want to talk anymore. You stopped sharing things with me. I wanted you to tell me things without it being like pulling teeth."

Maggie said in a low voice, "This is what they need. They need to have it out loudly and openly. Father does tend to keep his feelings bottled up."

"Perhaps we should leave them alone to talk about it," I said.

"No, I think that will just make him go back to podsnappery."

"How could he put on an air of virtue when he is clearly in the wrong?"

"Men can always find a way to feel holier than thou."

Mr. Beckham said, "You need to hear the whole story. You're going to sit here and listen and not say a word until I'm done."

"If you're going to stop trying to sell me a dog, I'll agree to those terms," Mrs. Beckham said.

"It all started when my mates from work decided to take me out to celebrate the impending birth of my first child. Mary's mother was sitting on her own in the tavern, looking quite out of place. She waited until I was arfarfanarf to send me a drink. It was only polite to return the favor. I let my privates control my brain and had relations. I never heard from her again, but now, nineteen years later, her daughter reached out to me and asked to meet. As soon as I saw her, I knew she was mine. I would have told you in my own time, but you saw us and got all upset."