Page 12 of Solving Sophronia

Her grandmother stopped with her teacup partway to her mouth. She opened her eyes wide. “Gracious, my dear. Jumped right in with both feet, didn’t you?”

Mimi’s reaction was exactly what Sophie had expected. Her grandmother never fussed or lectured but gave constant encouragement. Though she didn’t know for sure, Sophie was almost certain Mimi had been the one who’d convinced her parents to allow her to take the position with the newspaper in the first place.

Sophie scooped fruit onto her plate. “The circumstance was extremely lucky.” Seeing her grandmother’s raised brows over her teacup, she shook her head. “No, not lucky for the victim, of course, but for me to have arrived right as the police did. I was able to assist with the examination of the scene. Watching the investigators at work, seeing what they noticed and what they were able to deduce—it was all fascinating.”

“Do you know the victim’s identity?” Mimi asked.

“No,” Sophie said. “She was a young woman, and her dress...” She pulled her bag from beneath the table and slipped out the drawings she’d made the night before, leafing through until she found the one she wanted—a picture of the victim’s clothing. “I hope the dress will lead to her identity.” She set the paper between their plates.

Mimi looked through a quizzing glass, studying the drawing. “Not a gown one would expect to see in Spitalfields, is it?”

“Exactly what I thought,” Sophie said. “Madame Delacourt, the modiste, recognized the pattern but was not certain whom this particular dress was made for, as the specific embellishments and alterations were done by various seamstresses in her shop, some no longer in her employ. Her records did indicate three gowns in this periwinkle-blue color were sold last year, and she gave me the names of the women: Julia Westerfield, Charlotte Grey, and Abigail Scott. I am acquainted with all of them, to some degree.”

“But you did not recognize the victim. She was not one of the young ladies to whom the dresses were sold?”

“No. Someone wearing one of their dresses, I believe.” Sophie explained to her grandmother about the gown’s too-short sleeves and the tournure.

“How very intriguing.” Mimi dabbed her lips with a napkin. “You truly have a gift for observation and deduction, Sophronia.”

Sophie’s chest warmed at the praise. She bit into another pastry, set it down, and then wiped the crumbs from her fingers before returning the drawing to her bag. She debated showing the others to her grandmother but decided pictures of a murder scene were hardly appropriate at the breakfast table.

“Do you believe the gown was stolen?” Mimi asked.

“I do not know. The doctor pointed out that the woman’s hands were very soft, so she must have enjoyed some level of comfort.”

Mimi nodded. “But if so, why was her dress not altered to fit properly?”

“Why indeed,” Sophie said. “I intend to pay a visit to Misses Westerfield, Grey, and Scott this afternoon.” She winced, glancing at the clock. The young women were very likely not taking visitors this early, and if she was to attend Mrs. Jeffries’s garden party this evening, she needed the entirety of the afternoon to prepare her article and drawing that were due tomorrow morning. She blew out a frustrated breath. “Or perhaps tomorrow.”

“Since when are you friends with any of those young ladies?” Priscilla’s voice came from the doorway.

Sophie and Mimi turned in their chairs.

“Good morning, dear,” Mimi said.

“It would be a good morning if I hadn’t awoken so early.” Prissy flounced into the dining room and sat in a chair on the other side of the table. She reached for the basket of pastries.

“And what are you doing today, Prissy?” Sophie turned the subject away from her investigation and onto her sister’s favorite topic—herself.

“Paying visits with mother this morning.” Prissy rolled her eyes, but then she tipped her head, giving a superior smile. “Everleigh has invited me to a picnic at Kensington Gardens tomorrow.” She sighed, clasping her hands. “He is so handsome, and he quite prefers me, you know.”

“And why wouldn’t he, Priscilla?” Mimi said. “A gentleman would be foolish not to take notice of my lovely granddaughter.”

Prissy smiled. “Thank you, Mimi.” She blinked as if an idea had just occurred to her. “You should come as well, Sophie. Really, you must. All the Casanovas and Darling Debs will be there.”

Sophie was surprised her sister would make such a suggestion. Prissy had certainly never sought her company socially—let alone acknowledged in public at all the fact that they were related.

“Thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I have plans tomorrow.”

Prissy pouted, setting down her teacup with a clatter and folding her arms. “But Everleigh’s dull railroad friendHans, from Germany, is invited.” She spoke the name with a groan and rolled her eyes. “If you came, you could keep him occupied, discussing... whatever it is tedious people discuss.”

Ah, this explanation makes sense.Sophie did not take offense. Her sister seldom thought before speaking, nor realized how her words would be received.

“That does sound very tempting, but I’m afraid I will be busy,” Sophie said.

“What could you possibly need to do that is more important than picnicking with the most prominent members of high Society?” Prissy wrinkled her nose. “Drawing pictures, no doubt?”

“Illustrations for the newspaper are hardly more frivolous than—” Sophie bit off her witty rebuke when Lady Mather entered the dining room, and at the sight of her mother, the muscles in Sophie’s neck tightened.

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