Well, perhaps he would just a little.
“That is as ridiculous,” said George, “as your assertion that you love my wife. What you love is money and position. That is why you murdered Mrs. Elton.”
“Iamin love with your wife,” Mr. Elton coldly replied. “But I will not deny that Augusta’s foolish behavior—not to mention Horace’s bungling—was the precipitating event.”
Emma had to ask. “How did you find out that Mrs. Elton had lost everything?”
A shadow seemed to flit across his face. “It doesn’t matter.” He gave the gun a little jerk, gesturing toward the door. “I will again ask you to leave, madam, and allow me to conclude my business with your husband.”
“Emma, please go,” George urgently murmured.
Of course the darling man wished to protect her, but she had no intention of leaving.
Still, she pretended to consider the vicar’s demand. “Mr. Elton, I will certainly not leave until you have answered my questions. You owe me that, if nothing else.”
The more he told them, the more time they would have.
He studied her, as if to measure the sincerity of her words. Emma kept her own gaze steady, while praying that William Larkins would soon come to their rescue. By now, Mrs. Hodges should have been able to run into Highbury and fetch half the town to help them.
Mr. Elton shrugged. “Very well, I will answer your questions. But then you must leave.”
She dodged making a promise. “Then I will ask again how you found out about the loss of your funds.”
“Some weeks ago, I began to harbor suspicions that all was not well. Augusta had grown strange by then, and she became particularly secretive around questions of money.”
“So,” George said, “Mrs. Elton did manage your finances. That was not a tale made up to divert suspicion.”
He sneered. “It was a mistake I shall not make again.”
Dead men can’t make mistakes.
At this point, Emma would happily escort him to the gallows herself. “Why didn’t you manage your finances yourself?”
“Augusta insisted that she and Horace be allowed to continue to manage her fortune. It was a condition of our union, you see, and included in the marriage settlements. In return, she agreed that I would inherit everything if she predeceased me, with nothing directed to Selina or even any children she might bear. The fact that she was in no great hurry to write a will was a show of her trust in me.” He snorted. “She thought herself so magnanimous, so much the great lady. But she was just a great fool to place herself in the hands of a scoundrel like Suckling.”
“And that letter you mentioned to my father. Is that how you found out that Mr. Suckling’s investments had failed?”
“Yes, although I found that letter before our . . . altercation in the church, obviously. It made it clear that Horace had no intention of helping us, since the state of his financial situation had made it impossible.” A ferocious scowl distorted his features, rendering him almost unrecognizable. “That was a lie, of course. It was to be expected from a man without an ounce of integrity running through his veins.”
“At least he never killed anyone,” Emma retorted.
George gave her another warning squeeze.
“Not that it matters,” she hastily added. “So, you found the letters, and then what? You confronted Mrs. Elton?”
Elton eyed her with suspicion but eventually nodded. “I demanded a full explanation. Initially, she was quite evasive, but I soon managed to get the truth out of her.”
An image of Mrs. Elton sprawled in a bloody heap on the floor filled Emma’s mind. Her heart ached with sympathy. The moment when the poor woman realized she was married to a madman must have been horrible indeed.
“How did you get her to go to the church?” George asked.
“And why was she wearing her pearl necklace?” Emma added.
Mr. Elton shifted, rotating his right shoulder, as if his arm was finally getting tired. But although his gun hand drooped a trifle, it was steady enough. Still, Emma casually dropped a hand down to the desk and rested her fingertips only inches from the heavy inkwell.
“I discovered the letters in the morning, while Augusta was out,” Mr. Elton replied. “By the time she returned home, I was quite . . . perturbed.”
“Of course you were,” she sarcastically replied.
