Page 58 of Murder in Highbury
CHAPTER12
Emma led Harriet to a wrought-iron bench at one end of Donwell’s gardens, underneath a majestic oak. They sat in silence, absorbing the peaceful vista. Below the formal gardens were the meadows, bound by avenues of the noble oaks and beeches that had been planted long ago. Some of the younger folk walked along the shaded avenues or strolled toward the strawberry beds and the lime walk beyond that. Still, not many had ventured out into the bright sunlight, leaving Emma and her friend with much-needed quiet and privacy.
When Harriet let out a melancholy sigh, Emma stirred.
“Dearest, whatever is the matter?”
“I don’t think Robert loves me anymore,” Harriet blurted out. “And it’s just the most horrible thing I could ever imagine.”
This wasnotwhat Emma had been expecting. It took her a moment to collect her thoughts.
“Harriet, I have never met a man more in love than Robert Martin is with you. Have you forgotten that he waited for you for almost a year while you fell in love with two other men?”
“But I fell in love with those other men only because you encouraged me.”
While that was true—although she’d certainly never encouraged Harriet to fall in love with George—Emma refused to go off track. “Everyone knows how much Robert loves you. How could you arrive at such an odd conclusion?”
“Because he’s been flirting with Anne Cox. He even did it right in front of me!”
Then she buried her face in her hands and wept.
Emma sighed. Robert Martin was a good man of common sense, but no one would ever accuse him of an excess of imagination. The poor fellow likely wouldn’t have any idea if Anne was flirting with him or merely discussing the state of his crops.
“Now, Harriet, let us be sensible. Although I do not doubt that Annetriedto flirt with Robert, I’m sure that he was simply being polite.”
“But you didn’t see them. It was so . . . so blatant.”
Emma found herself once more longing for that glass of wine. “When did this supposed flirtation take place?”
“They had a very long chat before the funeral. Then, after the service, when I stopped to talk to Mrs. Goddard, they began flirting again. Anne even asked to borrow his handkerchief, because she’d forgotten hers at home.” Harriet suddenly scowled. “She wasn’t crying or even the least bit upset. I’m sure she wanted it as a love token.”
Emma had to repress an impulse to laugh at the notion of Robert Martin’s handkerchief serving as a love token for anyone. “If you were talking to Mrs. Goddard, how do you know she asked to borrow his handkerchief?”
“Because when I joined them, Anne made a point of using it to wipe her eyes. Then, when she tried to give it back to Robert, he insisted she keep it.”
“Very sensible of him. I certainly wouldn’t want my handkerchief back after a vulgar person like Anne Cox had used it.”
That gave Harriet pause. “But that’s just the sort of thing I used to do when I fancied myself in love with Mr. Elton.”
In the throes of young love, the girl had filched a few souvenirs from Mr. Elton, including a bit of leftover sticking plaster. Such an item had struck Emma as decidedly unromantic, but tastes obviously varied.
“I remember. Still, you didn’t make a show of it, which Anne was obviously doing to annoy you.”
“When we were waiting for Mr. Elton and Mr. Suckling, Robert told me that he felt sorry for Anne because she was so distressed, and that she was too tenderhearted for such sad scenes.” Harriet gave a defiant little sniff. “Which suggests that I don’t have a tender heart.”
Emma marveled, and not for the first time, at how utterly dimwitted men could be when it came to women. “I would wager that it was Anne who made a point of speaking such drivel. It certainly doesn’t sound like the sort of thing Robert would say.”
“I . . . I suppose you’re right.”
“Anne was simply playing on Robert’s good nature, dear. It has absolutely nothing to do with you or his feelings for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. And might I just point out that you are the prettiest and the nicest girl in all of Highbury. You can be sure Robert is well aware of that.”
Her friend grimaced. “But later he talked to her for the longest time, when he was supposed to be fetching me a cider—which he forgot to do.”
Emma studied her for a few moments. “Harriet, did you say something to Robert about this?”
