Page 130 of Murder in Highbury
“And you obviously did,” Emma said.
He nodded. “There was correspondence between Augusta and Horace going back several months. As I mentioned, he was heavily invested in a bank in Bristol—one of the principal shareholders, in fact. Unfortunately, he had also pulled my wife into the scheme, and she had granted him permission to invest on her behalf. Not all her funds, mind you. Augusta was too wise for that. But Horace, who managed her accounts, took it upon himself to invest theentireamount without her knowledge.”
Emma was torn between pity and anger, both for Mr. Elton and for his wife. As a woman of means herself, she’d always cherished her independence. To be so cheated by someone you loved and trusted would be a betrayal beyond compare.
“How utterly appalling,” she said. “And poor Mrs. Elton! She must have been devastated.”
He sighed. “She was. Their final exchange of letters makes it clear how deeply it affected her.”
No wonder she’d been pestering both Miss Bates and Mrs. Goddard. Although her treatment of those two ladies had bordered on cruel, Emma could now have some degree of sympathy. Mrs. Elton had undoubtedly been in a state of panic.
“Mr. Elton,” said George. “Did you have any knowledge of your brother-in-law’s precarious financial situation before your wife’s death?”
“I did not.”
“Mrs. Elton never discussed it with you or acted in any way so as to cause you concern regarding her relationship with Mr. Suckling?”
He hesitated. “Toward the end I sensed that something was not right between them. But one must step lightly when it comes to in-laws, Mr. Knightley. My wife was very close to the Sucklings, and I did not wish to interfere. I also suspect Augusta was loath to cause me anxiety and was therefore shielding me from such troubling news.”
George looked frankly skeptical at that explanation. “But surely she couldn’t have hidden such news forever.”
Mr. Elton’s shoulders rolled forward and his chin disappeared into the voluminous scarf. An image flashed through Emma’s mind—that of a turtle retreating into its shell.
“As I have mentioned before, my wife managed most of our affairs,” he replied. “She—” He broke off with a sudden cough.
Emma hastily took the teapot and replenished his tea. The vicar nodded his thanks and took a cautious sip.
“Thank you,” he hoarsely said when she’d returned to her seat.
“Mr. Elton, we can defer this discussion if you feel too unwell to continue,” said George.
“No, I am better now. As I was saying, my wife managed most of our affairs and never wished to disturb me with financial concerns. I imagine she was attempting to arrive at some kind of compromise with Horace before . . .” He trailed off, as they all knew whatbeforemeant.
“I imagine that was why your wife and Mr. Suckling were meeting that day,” Emma mused.
“Yes, I believe so, Mrs. Knightley.”
“But why in the church?”
“I can only surmise that Horace asked to meet somewhere private.” His expression grew suddenly dark. “One can now see why, of course.”
“You’re suggesting that Suckling came to Highbury with the express purpose of murdering your wife?” George asked.
“What else can one think, Mr. Knightley?” he bitterly replied.
Emma still found it hard to imagine such a cold-blooded course of action. “Is it possible that they argued and Mr. Suckling lost his temper? After all, he attacked you when he lost his temper.”
“While that is true, I remain convinced that Horace traveled to Highbury that day with the express intention of murdering my wife. Why else would he go to such lengths to remain unseen?”
His point was difficult to deny. Even though Emma had always harbored doubts that Mrs. Elton’s death was an impulsive act committed in the course of a robbery, to have it all but confirmed that it was a cold, premeditated killing turned her stomach.
“The poor woman,” she whispered.
George glanced at her, clearly troubled by her reaction. When he briefly covered her hand with his, she mustered a reassuring smile.
“I’m fine, really,” she said.
“You needn’t sit through this, my dear,” he replied.
