“It seemed a bit strange to me, as well. I suppose he simply was wishing to be polite.”
More likely, the vicar was trying to curry favor with her father. Given the events of the past few weeks, it was understandable.
“Mr. Elton has always been excessively polite, and with very nice manners. Until he accused Miss Bates of murder, that is,” her father added on a darker note. “I still cannot comprehend why he did so.”
“He didn’t actually accuse her of murder,” Emma patiently explained for perhaps the hundredth time. “He only shared what he thought was information relevant to the investigation. It was actually Constable Sharpe who accused Miss Bates of murder.”
Father held up a minatory finger. “But Mr. Elton gave that dreadful Sharpe person the idea. While I have forgiven him, it is very hard to forget that he caused Miss Bates a great deal of distress. We can only hope she will recover without any lasting effects to her nerves.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. And Mr. Elton is truly sorry, so we must do our best to forgive and forget. To dwell on such unhappy events will serve no good purpose, nor will it help Miss Bates to recover a more peaceful frame of mind.”
“I suppose you’re right, my dear, as you so usually are. But I do not know if I will ever forget the terrible trials of this unhappy time. One wonders if Highbury will ever be the same.”
Emma mentally grimaced. As curious as she was about Mr. Elton’s visit, it was time to direct her father’s thoughts along more cheerful lines. And perhaps she also needed to think less about their vicar, the murder, and the entire nasty business, since it was beginning to grow more than a trifle wearisome.
“To whom were you writing when I came in?” she brightly asked.
“Ah, yes, my letter. I was writing to Isabella, but I will have to finish it this evening. She will no doubt be shocked to hear of Mr. Suckling’s arrest. I hope it does not upset your poor sister too greatly. Like me, she has a very delicate constitution. Nevertheless, I feel it better she receive the news from me than from the common gossips of London.”
She leaned forward and patted his knee. “You may be sure that John has already told her, so it will not come as a shock.”
Besides, Isabella wouldn’t give two figs about Mr. Suckling, other than how his arrest might affect the residents of Hartfield. Emma’s sister was a lovely, kind woman, whose preoccupying interests were her husband, her children, and her life of quiet domesticity in London—well, as quiet as life could be with five children to manage. When Isabella married John Knightley, she’d readily left Highbury behind. While always entering into the immediate concerns of her family and close friends, she no longer possessed more than a passing interest in the people from her former life in the country.
“Ah, but she will not have heard about that dreadful poultry thief,” her father proclaimed in a portentous tone. “Isabella will be shocked to hear that he has struck again. Why, she might even be afraid to bring the children down for Christmas, and then what shall we do?”
So her father had already heard about the stupid poultry pilferer. That fellow was growing even more tiresome than the departed Mrs. Elton.
“I’m sure the thief will be long caught before then, Father. Christmas is many months away.”
“But poor Mrs. Cole! Her best laying hen taken right from the kitchen garden coop, which is very close to the back of their house. I cannot think how I will sleep tonight, knowing that such a ruthless predator roams free.”
Emma would have been tempted to laugh at her father’s high dramatics but for the fact that his fearswouldkeep him awake for most of the night. And that was exactly why she’d wished to break the news to him first.
“Father, how did you find out about Mrs. Cole’s chickens?”
“From Mr. Elton. On his way to Hartfield, he met Mr. Cole, who was excessively disturbed and told him everything. Both he and Mr. Elton are of the opinion that the thief is getting very bold, and that we must all be sure to check our doors and windows before we retire every night. Mr. Cole also told him that Dr. Hughes remains greatly upset, although one does not generally set any store by the doctor’s opinion.”
Emma was beginning to feel quite out of charity with Mr. Elton. He was well familiar with her father’s frets and fears and should have known better than to stoke them.
“Dearest, you know that George always checks the windows and doors before he retires to bed. Besides, the thief steals only poultry. He has never made any attempt to break into a house.”
Her father began fussing with his cashmere shawl, never a good sign. “Mr. Elton is very worried, though, which is not to be wondered at. First, Mrs. Elton’s murder, and now the threat of this villainous person to contend with.”
Emma stared at him, astonished that heandMr. Elton would make such a leap. “Surely there can be no connection between the robbery and murder of Mrs. Elton and the theft of some chickens. I would be very disappointed to hear Mr. Elton draw such a connection.”
Her father hesitated. “He didn’t precisely make that connection, but he did say he would be securing the cabinet locks in the vestry. He is nervous the thief may try to steal the church’s silver. And if he is so bold as to do so, who knows what he will do next? The villain might even try to break into Hartfield,” he replied in a genuinely unhappy tone.
Emma briefly rubbed a spot in the middle of her forehead, where a headache was starting to form. Mr. Elton had always been sensitive to her father’s nervous disposition but was clearly in need of a reminder.
“I’m very certain thepoultrythief will not start breaking into houses or the church,” she responded in a soothing tone, “since he has never done so. But I will speak to George. We can always have one of the footmen stay up and keep watch the next few nights, just in case.”
Her father graced her with a relieved smile. “I think that would be very wise. And I do hope Constable Sharpe can attend to this business now that Mr. Suckling has been detained.”
“No doubt that will be the case. Now, surely you and Mr. Elton had other things to talk about. Something a little more cheerful, perhaps? He is in great need of cheering up and should not be dwelling on morbid or disturbing subjects.”
“We did speak of other things, although our conversation took a rather odd turn, I must say.”
What now?
