Page 2 of Murder in Highbury
Emma was forced to admit that she was neither as sweet nor as sensitive as Harriet, since she was already getting used to the fact that they’d stumbled upon a bloody corpse.
“But, Miss Woodhouse . . . , I mean, Mrs. Knightley,” Harriet said, her voice breathy with distress. “What is to be done?”
“First, we must fetch Mr. Knightley. He will take charge of this unfortunate scene.”
“Of course,” Harriet replied with immediate relief. “Mr. Knightley always knows what to do.”
Emma gave her an encouraging smile. “He is the magistrate, after all.”
“Should we fetch Robert, too? He would be happy to help.”
“We should leave that decision up to Mr. Knightley, dear.”
Harriet looked disappointed. No doubt she was longing for her husband’s support. And while Robert Martin was a very sensible young man and Donwell Abbey’s best tenant farmer, Emma was reluctant to involve others without her husband’s knowledge—especially if foul play had been involved.
“But we should fetch Dr. Hughes, as well,” Emma added.
Harriet blinked. “But you said Mrs. Elton was . . .” She swallowed. “Dead. How can Dr. Hughes be of any help?”
Emma repressed an impulse to sigh and reminded herself that Harriet was still very rattled. “Dr. Hughes will know what to do with the . . . er, Mrs. Elton, since he is also our local coroner.”
She didn’t know Dr. Hughes very well, because her family had always relied on Mr. Perry, the village apothecary, for their doctoring. But George had consulted with Highbury’s physician on a few legal matters over the years, when a coroner’s opinion was needed.
“Would it not be better to fetch Mr. Perry?” Harriet asked. “That’s who Mr. Elton always relied on for health matters, I think.”
“The coroner will need to determine the cause of death.”
Harriet frowned, obviously confused. “Surely she must have slipped on the steps and hit her head.”
Emma turned again to peruse the body, ignoring the squeamish sensation in the pit of her stomach. “If Mrs. Elton simply slipped, she might certainly have received a nasty knock to the head. But a fatal injury? I think not.”
The fact that Mrs. Elton’s neck was at such an angle seemed too odd for a simple slip and fall on the chancel steps. She also looked quite disheveled, and for all her bad sartorial taste, she would never dream of stepping out her door without every frivolous bow and too-large button firmly in place.
Emma frowned and took a step forward to get a closer look. Mrs. Elton was garbed in a bright blue gown and matching spencer, the top button undone so her neck was partially exposed. Normally, the woman wore a necklace or some sort of choker, but today her throat was bare.
She crouched down a bit. “Are those marks on her neck?” she asked, more to herself than to Harriet.
Her friend crept up beside her. “What did you say, Mrs. Knightley?”
Emma pointed. “Look at her throat, Harriet.” She hadn’t initially noticed any bruises there, but now the marks were quite evident on a closer inspection.
Harriet clutched Emma’s arm. “Why would she have bruises on her throat?”
“Mrs. Elton usually wore a necklace. Perhaps someone took it and injured her in the process.”
“Mrs. Knightley, I do think I’m about to be sick!”
“You most certainly will not,” Emma said in a firm voice. “We have too much to do.”
She took Harriet by the arm and steered her back down the nave.
“Harriet, you need to find Dr. Hughes and tell him to come to the church. Then go to the Crown Inn and ask one of the stable boys to run for Mr. Knightley. Simply say that I need to see my husband as soon as possible on a matter of urgent church business.”
“But what do I tell Dr. Hughes?”
“Simply say there’s been an accident, and that he’s needed at the church immediately.”
“So you do think it’s an accident?” Harriet asked in a hopeful voice.
