Page 119 of Murder in Highbury
Emma stifled a yawn. Although she’d wished for nothing more than a quiet afternoon and no visitors, her father had felt otherwise. After a modest lunch, he’d insisted on coming downstairs to await the arrival of Miss Bates. Resigned, she’d thought it best to join them to keep a weather eye. She was determined Father not wear himself out.
Thankfully, she’d not been expected to join the conversation. After serving the pair tea, she’d retreated to a corner with her needlework to watch discreetly. Father seemed fine, listening attentively to Miss Bates’s musings and observations while adding his commiserations and consolations, as required.
And there were many observations and many commiserations. Emma was ready to stuff cotton batting into her ears to avoid hearing yet another discussion of the combined perfidies of Constable Sharpe and Mr. Elton.
Although to be fair, Miss Bates displayed a truly Christian charity toward Mr. Elton by explaining away his actions as the confusion and distress of grief. Father, however, was not so ready to forgive. Despite Emma’s best efforts to justify Mr. Elton’s behavior to her parent, she suspected it would still be some time before the vicar was again welcome at Hartfield.
In the occasional idle moment, like now, she tried to imagine how she would respond if George were murdered. She doubted she would adopt Mr. Elton’s model of patient suffering. In fact, Emma thought it highly likely that she would transform into an avenging harpy, albeit one in widow’s weeds and armed with only a sharp-ended parasol. Since she looked dreadful in black and would probably grow queasy when stabbing villains with her pointy parasol, she could only be thankful that the odds of George getting murdered were extremely slim. After all, everyone loved him—unlike the poor departed Mrs. Elton.
“Emma,” her father said, breaking into her silly imaginings, “you have let your tea grow cold. You must have a fresh cup and something to eat.”
Miss Bates clasped her hands together in an earnest manner. “Indeed, Mrs. Knightley. Your father has been telling me how you never left his bedside last night. Such devotion is beyond anything, I vow. I will be sure to tell Mother all about it. She will be amazed, as will Jane. But you have always been the most devoted of daughters.” She smiled at Father. “You have been so fortunate in your daughters, sir, as I have been so fortunate in Jane. She is like a daughter to me, you know, and none could be more devoted than she—except Mrs. Knightley, of course. No one can compare to Mrs. Knightley. But how terrified you must all have been! I should have been in a dreadful fright to see you brought so low, Mr. Woodhouse.”
“I can hardly fathom how it could have happened but for my own foolishness,” he replied. “Thank goodness for Mr. Perry and my dear Emma. She is patience itself, Miss Bates, even though I must greatly try her at times.”
“Father, that is entirely silly,” said Emma when she was finally able to put in a word. “No one could have a better parent. And I know that Jane feels just the same about you, Miss Bates. We are both of us fortunate in our families.”
The spinster gave her a sweet smile. “Dear Mrs. Knightley. Indeed, Jane is the kindest girl one could ever hope to meet. Why, I remember one time—”
“And how is Jane?” Emma interrupted, hoping to forestall another anecdote detailing Jane’s many virtues. “I’ve not seen her in two days. I hope she is feeling well, and I trust that Frank is taking good care of her.”
“Indeed,” Miss Bates replied, properly diverted. “Randalls is the perfect place for a good rest, you know. Such a healthful environment—quite the best one could imagine. Except for Hartfield, of course. No house could be more conducive to one’s health than Hartfield.”
Emma’s father looked much struck. “Very true. Randalls is well enough, and dear Miss Taylor—”
“Dear Mrs. Weston,” Emma automatically corrected.
“Keeps a fine house,” her father serenely continued. “But Hartfield has Serle, and that makes all the difference.”
The two friends then embarked on a lengthy discussion about Jane’s health, the merits of Hartfield’s cook versus Randalls’s cook, and the sorts of food most appropriate for a woman in the family way. Emma was once more able to let her mind wander as she pretended to do her needlework.
She’d almost fallen into a doze when the door opened and George entered the drawing room. Quickly rousing herself, she rose to her feet.
“Good afternoon, dearest,” she said. “Are you joining us for tea, or must you be off to Donwell?”
“Neither. Constable Sharpe has come to call, and I’d like you to join us in my study.”
She sighed. As if this day hadn’t been trying enough.
Miss Bates, who’d also stood when George appeared, sank back onto the settee, pressing a trembling hand to her throat.
“H-how distressing,” she stuttered. “Constable Sharpe. Dear me, whatever can he want? I hope I don’t have to speak to him, Mr. Knightley. Perhaps I should go. If only I can do so without seeing him. It is foolish of me to be so nervous, but I cannot seem to help it.”
Emma’s father now came to his feet, the picture of genteel offense. “George, I willnotallow that man to continue to persecute Miss Bates. He believes he can come into my home at any time and attempt to frighten us. It must stop, or I will be having words with him.”
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Emma hastened to reassure. “No doubt he’s simply stopping by to discuss some small detail of the investigation.”
At least she hoped so. If he tried to arrest Miss Bates again, she would be tempted to stab the dratted man with a very pointy parasol, even though he was a constable.
George held up a calming hand. “You need have no fears, Miss Bates. In fact, Constable Sharpe has arrested Mrs. Elton’s murderer, or so he believes.”
His announcement produced a stunned silence.
“Never say it’s the poultry thief,” Emma finally exclaimed.
Her husband cast her a sardonic glance. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but no.”
Father looked affronted. “You mean that villain isstillat large? I must speak to the constable, George. This state of affairs is deplorable.”
