Page 45 of A Dangerous Vision

At least one gasp and a few murmured reactions could be heard in the low-ceilinged room. The coroner cast a warning glower at the gallery.

“And Mr. Pennington was, as you say, distressed when you told him of your decision?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “He asked me to reconsider, but I refused, and I…left his company.”

“Did you ever see him again after that discussion?”

“No, I did not.”

“And what was the duration of your conversation with Mr. Pennington?”

Lady Redmayne licked her lips and lifted her shoulders. “Perhaps ten minutes.”

“So, it was a short meeting.”

“Yes.”

“And do you know the time when your conversation with Mr. Pennington ended?”

“Shortly after half three. Perhaps three quarters past the hour.”

The coroner scanned the face of the assembled jurors, no doubt looking for a sign that one of them might have a clarifying question. None raised their hand or gave any such indication.

Lady Redmayne sat so still and stiffly, she seemed to be holding her breath.

“You may return to your seat, Lady Redmayne, and are released.”

Sir Christopher stood, met her halfway, and wrapped a protective arm around her. All eyes seemed to be locked on them, and, to Gideon’s surprise, they did not return to the chairs they’d vacated. Instead, they headed toward the threshold and left the vestry hall.

As the coroner gave instructions to the jury, Gideon assessed those in attendance and found that one gentleman was watching him too: Gordon Callister. He sat several rows behind Electra and wore a grim expression. Two seats down from him, Miss Faraday seemed to be struggling to control her emotions. She had her head bent, a kerchief pressed to her mouth, and Lance Pennington sat, seemingly distressed by her unhappiness, at her side. Another young man with light-brown hair and spectacles leaned close, murmuring something to her. Gideon suspected it was William Worthington. He resembled the young man he’d seen in the photograph at Mount Street; the suitor Miss Faraday’s uncle had not approved of. It seemed her surviving uncle was more amenable to the young man.

As the jury filed from the room to begin their deliberations, Gideon made his way toward Electra, intending to claim one of the empty seats next to her, but a young lady reached the spot before him.

She settled next to Electra on the chair Lady Redmayne had occupied and regarded her with a kind of awestruck interest.

Gideon took the empty seat beside the young lady, the one that Sir Christopher had occupied. Electra wore an expression that told him she wished to speak with him, all but ignoring the young lady between them.

“Pardon me,” the young lady whispered. “You are Miss Electra Poole, are you not?”

“I am.”

After swiping a loose strand of dark-gold hair behind her ear, the girl leaned a little farther toward Electra. “I am most interested in speaking with you. Might I give you my card and ask that you call on me at your earliest convenience? Today, if at all possible. I will be at home for the remainder of the day.”

“Of course.”

The young woman slipped her hand into her reticule and lifted out a cream-colored calling card, which she presented to Electra.

Electra’s eyes widened the slightest bit when she read whatever was written on the card.

“Thank you, Miss Poole. I bid you good day.” With that, the finely dressed lady stood and strode across the room to exit the vestry hall.

Gideon slipped over and settled onto the chair she’d vacated. “Seems she did not wish to hear the jury’s decision,” Gideon said.

Electra glanced at him with one brow quirked, her eyes flashing with an emotion he couldn’t name. Then she held up the young lady’s card so that he could view the name printed upon it.

“She’s someone you’ll wish to speak to. Perhaps we could go together.”

Miss Aurora Beecham was printed on the card in an elegant, gilded font. Gideon noted the address with interest, then lifted his gaze to Electra.