Page 142 of Murder in Highbury
“Another letter?” she exclaimed. “Good God, they seem to appear in a remarkably convenient fashion.”
“You mustn’t interrupt, my dear,” Father replied in a gently chiding tone. “It’s impolite.”
So much for remaining calm.
“I beg your pardon, dearest. Please continue.”
He opened his mouth but then shut it, looking suddenly perturbed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Mr. Elton told me about the letter in strictest confidence. He has not even shared it with Dr. Hughes, and I believe he does not wish to do so.”
“Why not?”
“Out of embarrassment, I suppose. I imagine that he is reluctant for others to realize the extent of his financial woes.”
If that were the case, why then would he confide in her father? As the Woodhouses were the first family of Highbury, Mr. Elton had always valued his relationship with them and had clearly regretted losing the favor of Hartfield’s master, even if only temporarily. But his attitude toward Father had always possessed an awkward element, one both patronizing and obsequious. After his marriage to Augusta Hawkins, Mr. Elton had become more patronizing and less obsequious.
Somehow, she’d forgotten that, like she’d forgotten how greatly his manner had annoyed her. With all the changes that had come with her marriage to George, the behavior of Mr. and Mrs. Elton had become much less important. And the death of Mrs. Elton had produced a revolution of sorts in all their lives. The past hadn’t seemed to matter so greatly, and Mr. Elton himself had been metamorphosing into a new sort of man.
But now . . .
In an attempt to mask her increasingly disturbed state of mind, Emma mustered a reassuring smile. “I feel sure Mr. Elton wouldn’t mind you telling me about the letter. He’s been very forthcoming with me—and with George, as well. Indeed, he relies greatly upon George’s advice, and I have no doubt he’ll soon share the particulars of his financial situation with him.”
Her father looked dubious. “Are you sure, Emma?”
“Absolutely,” she replied, mentally crossing her fingers. “Did Mr. Elton relay any of the specifics contained in the letter?”
He frowned, as if trying to recall the details. “He noted that Mrs. Elton had generally managed their various financial accounts—just as you have done with ours these past several years. That included his independence and the funds from his living. As a man of the cloth, he had no head for such things, you see.” He smiled. “In that we are much the same, although, of course, I am not a cleric.”
Mr. Elton had made similar claims in the days following his wife’s death. Emma had found them just as strange then as she did now. The vicar had always been a man greatly concerned with money. She’d learned that lesson the hard way when he’d so callously rejected Harriet, horrified at the very notion of an alliance with a girl of uncertain parentage and no real fortune. As George had once said, although Mr. Elton might speak sentimentally, he would always act rationally. He had always possessed a good opinion of himself and would be highly unlikely ever to make what he would consider an imprudent match, or indeed act in any way that diminished his standing in the community.
But perhaps after his marriage to Augusta Hawkins, a woman of considerable fortune, he was less concerned with financial matters. After all, he’d become a wealthy man. And although his wife may have generally controlled the purse strings, she was no pinch purse. They’d always lived in an elegant and sometimes even extravagant fashion. Since that was the case, perhaps Mr. Elton had been content to leave the disposition of their fortune in the hands of his wife. As a vicar, he would not wish to appear overly concerned with money, despite his obvious enjoyment of the luxuries obtained on his marriage to a wealthy woman.
“I assume Mr. Elton discovered the loss of his personal funds via this recently unearthed letter from Mr. Suckling?” she asked.
“That’s it exactly, my dear. Mr. Suckling invested the entirety of Mr. and Mrs. Elton’s monies. And it was all lost in the collapse of that dreadful bank.” He suddenly grimaced with apprehension. “I do hope that will never happen to us, Emma. I could not bear it.”
She hastened to reassure him. “George and John would never allow that to happen. You know how careful they are in their investments and management. They would never risk anything happening to Isabella and the children, or to you and to me.”
He visibly relaxed. “We are indeed fortunate in our in-laws, are we not? Mr. Elton lamented that such was not the case for him, and one can hardly blame him. Not that he blamed Mrs. Elton—quite the opposite. He said that Mr. Suckling had greatly imposed on her, taking advantage of her trusting nature. He was not angry with her in the least.”
“That is very charitable of him,” she dryly commented. “Especially since the poor woman has been murdered.”
“Very true, my dear,” her father said, oblivious to her gentle sarcasm. “Mr. Elton greatly regretted that his wife hadn’t alerted him to their troubles. If she had done so, he felt he might have been able to protect her from Mr. Suckling. He said he would not make such a mistake again.”
She frowned. “What mistake? Not manage his own finances?”
He shook his head. “I believe he was referring to their reliance on Mr. Suckling. He stated that when next he married, he would be a great deal more careful in his relationship with his in-laws.”
Again, Emma experienced an instinctive recoiling. “For such a recent widower, he seems already obsessed with the notion of marriage. I find that very strange indeed.”
It was also highly reminiscent of the old Mr. Elton and his speedy engagement to Augusta Hawkins after Emma rejected his impertinent proposal. In this case, however, his behavior was even more startling.
“What can one say, Emma? As I mentioned, I cautioned Mr. Elton against making any rash decisions.” Father sighed. “I truly wish people would stop getting married. There have been too many weddings in Highbury this past year. I find it all very fatiguing.”
A quick perusal of her father’s face convinced her that he was genuinely worn out by his bizarre discussion with Mr. Elton.
