Miss Bates’s eyes went as wide as a startled rabbit’s. “Why would I notice something like that, Mrs. Knightley, especially when she was already dead? Besides, I couldn’t bear to look at her for fear of becoming sick.”
Emma sighed. “Yes, quite.”
Miss Bates would make a dreadful witness at the inquest. She could only hope Dr. Hughes would take into account the poor woman’s excitable nature.
“Just a few more questions, if I may. Do you recall how your handkerchief became stained with Mrs. Elton’s blood?”
She looked rather green at the memory. “I already had it in my hand when I went to untie her bonnet. It must have brushed against some of her hair. Her hair, it was quite . . .”
“Yes, I saw. Try not to think about it.”
“But how can one not think about it?” she burst out. “I will see that horrible sight before me for the rest of my days. If only Mrs. Elton and I hadn’t—”
When she broke off with a little gasp, a ripple of alarm skittered through Emma. “If only you hadn’t what, Miss Bates?”
When the woman shrank back, Emma grimaced. “Forgive me, ma’am. I don’t mean to be sharp with you. But please finish what you were going to say. You and Mrs. Elton hadn’t . . . what?”
“That is to say . . . nothing, nothing at all, really. But some might misconstrue it. It was just a silly thing, really. Mrs. Elton was a trifle annoyed with me, which is not to be wondered at. In her kindness, she overlooked my failings and eccentricities. Always so generous, so ready to forgive.”
“But why would Mrs. Elton be annoyed with you?”
The spinster seemed to struggle to find the words. “She . . . she has always been such a good friend to us, especially to dear Jane. Such kindness, such condescension she showed to Jane during that difficult time. You remember how Mrs. Elton arranged for her to become a governess to one of her friends in Bristol, and with such generous terms, too. You might also recall—”
Emma’s impatience finally got the better of her. “Yes, I recall. But what does this have to do with you and Mrs. Elton and what happened yesterday?”
“Poor Jane. She will be so distressed by all of this,” Miss Bates said, now fully off on her tangent. “And in her condition, too. Frank will never forgive me.”
Emma frowned. “And what condition is that?”
Miss Bates seemed to brighten. “Jane is in the family way. It’s still early days, so we are quite secret about it. She was to write to Mrs. Weston this week. But Jane’s health has never been good, you know, and when she hears this dreadful news, I fear it will affect her.”
“Frank will take care of her, you may be sure.”
“Very true. Thank goodness for Frank. He and Jane are so very generous to us, but we cannot be a burden to them, especially now. With friends like you and Mr. Knightley, we want for nothing. And Mrs. Elton’s generosity! It was beyond anything. If only—” She suddenly pressed her lips together, looking. . . frightened?
Yes, Miss Bates was indeed frightened. Of Mrs. Elton, if Emma didn’t miss her guess.
She tried to phrase her next question as delicately as she could. “Did Mrs. Elton perform a particular service for you, one that left you feeling indebted to her?”
“I . . . I . . . Well, she was always so generous, you know.”
Generouswas not a term Emma would have applied to Mrs. Elton, at least when it came to others. To herself, however, the vicar’s wife was more than generous.
“Then can you tell me why you and Mrs. Elton fell out?” she gently asked.
Miss Bates was now visibly trembling. “It was just a trifling thing, I promise, and the fault was all mine. And now she is dead. Dead! I cannot bear it.”
She burst into tears, taking refuge behind her hands. Dismayed, Emma snatched up her reticule and began digging through it for smelling salts.
“Hetty, what’s wrong?” came a quavering voice from the chair by the fireplace.
Startled, Emma glanced over. She’d all but forgotten that Mrs. Bates was in the room. But the elderly woman was now wide awake and staring at her daughter, her wrinkled features doubly wrinkled in concern.
Emma dredged up a smile. “Miss Bates is simply upset about Mrs. Elton. She’ll be fine momentarily.”
Miss Bates blew her nose and tried to compose herself. “Everything is fine, Mother. Mrs. Knightley is right, as always. We are all grieved by Mrs. Elton’s death. So terribly upsetting.”
By this point, Emma was finding Mrs. Elton’s death more aggravating than not, since the woman was proving just as difficult in death as she was in life. As the next bit of news she needed to impart would surely illustrate.
