Page 24 of Murder in Highbury
Miss Bates cast a fearful glance at her mother, who’d gone back to dozing by the fire. Her daughter breathed a sigh of relief and made a visible effort to compose herself.
“I cannot think what question you would need to ask, Mrs. Knightley. My mother and I live so quietly here. We cannot possibly know anything.”
Emma opened her reticule and carefully pulled out the handkerchief. “I believe this is yours, is it not?”
Miss Bates stared for a moment, her eyes rounded in shock. “I . . . I . . . Where did you find that?”
“In the churchyard, by the lych-gate.”
Miss Bates made a visible attempt to recover. “Oh . . . yes, that is mine. I must have dropped it the other day, when Mother and I went to put flowers on my father’s grave. We try to do that every week, you know, if Mother feels up to it.”
Emma sighed. Clearly, sterner measures were in order.
“Miss Bates, I truly hate to press you, but I think we must be honest with each other. I believe you dropped this yesterday, when you fled from the vestry.”
For once, the spinster was struck dumb. Then, still silent, she shook her head in vigorous denial.
Emma turned over the piece of cambric and pointed to the bloodstain. “But, dear ma’am, how do you explain this?”
Miss Bates squeezed her eyes shut and again vigorously shook her head, as if in doing so, she would deny the very existence of yesterday’s events. When Emma reached out and touched her arm, her eyes flew open.
“Please,” Miss Bates pleaded in a thin, fear-laced voice. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”
Emma put aside the handkerchief and took her trembling hands. “Whatever happened, whatever you saw, you are not alone in this. Mr. Knightley and I will support you in every way possible, as will my father. Your friends will protect you, I promise.”
But they could do nothing to help Miss Bates until she was persuaded to tell Emma what had happened. And that had to occur before the frightened woman was forced to confess to Dr. Hughes or Constable Sharpe, who would have little patience with her foibles and hesitations.
“Won’t you please tell me what happened?” Emma coaxed. “Dear Miss Bates, please let me help you.”
“You must think me very foolish,” the spinster finally whispered. “But I simply wanted the whole thing to go away . . . to pretend I could forget I’d ever seen it.”
“I wished to do the same. But we cannot forget it, can we?”
Miss Bates squeezed Emma’s hands before letting go. “But you are so brave, Mrs. Knightley. My father always used to say I was too timid for my own good, and he was perfectly right. I have not the fortitude to deal with something as horrible as m-murder. Please don’t make me do so.”
Timidwas not the word that Emma would have ever applied to Miss Bates, but she supposed it was apt in this situation.
“But you are also a vicar’s daughter, and no one in Highbury has a greater sense of both morality and compassion than you do, Miss Bates.”
The woman pulled out her handkerchief to dab her eyes and blew her nose. “You are too kind, Mrs. Knightley.”
Sadly, Emma hadn’t always been kind. But now she simply gave the poor dear an encouraging smile, silently willing her to talk. Never did she think she would actuallywishfor Miss Bates to talk, but murder produced strange, unintended effects.
“Do you remember what time it was when you came upon Mrs. Elton?” she finally asked.
“I . . . I’m not entirely sure. Only a few minutes before two o’clock, I believe.”
That made sense to Emma, since she and Harriet had entered the church fifteen minutes after the hour at most.
“Did you know that Harriet and I were going to be in the church to do the flower arrangements?”
“I remembered when I heard you and Mrs. Martin out in the porch. That . . . that is when I hid in the vestry.”
“Miss Bates, whydidyou hide?”
She seemed to crumple in her chair. “I . . . I was in such a terrible state. And then I heard your voices, and I couldn’t bear for you to find me with . . . with Mrs. Elton . . . the way she looked. What would you think of me?”
Emma frowned. “We would think that you had stumbled upon the body, just as we had. Why would we assume anything different?”
