“Miss Bates, while I am loathe to distress you any further, we must tell Mr. Knightley that you were at the church and that you discovered the body before Harriet and I did.”
Miss Bates moaned. “Must we?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Yes . . . yes, you are right, as always. So silly of me to run away, but I was so frightened and did not know what to do.”
“I can speak to Mr. Knightley on your behalf, if you like. I can explain why you left the church so suddenly.”
Miss Bates clutched at Emma’s hands, as if clutching a lifeline in a stormy sea. “Would you? I cannot bear the idea of talking about this again.”
Emma steeled herself. “I’m afraid you will have to talk about it again, Miss Bates. Dr. Hughes and Constable Sharpe will both wish to speak to you, since you discovered the body. But Mr. Knightley and I will do everything to support you in any way we can. I promise.”
Miss Bates stared at her, utterly horrified. Then she collapsed in her chair, her body shaking with sobs.
“Hetty, Hetty, what is the matter?” cried her mother, struggling to stand.
Emma jumped to her feet. “Everything is fine, Mrs. Bates. You’re not to worry. I will take care of this.”
The old woman gaped at her, clearly thinking her a ninny. A moment later, rapid footsteps sounded on the stairs. The door flew open to reveal Patty, laden with a basket of foodstuffs.
“Patty, thank goodness,” Emma exclaimed. “Do you have any smelling salts?”
The competent young woman dumped her basket on the floor and hurried to Miss Bates. “Smelling salts won’t work, ma’am. I’ll put her to bed and then run to fetch Mr. Perry.”
“No, you stay with Miss Bates,” Emma replied. “I’ll fetch Mr. Perry.”
Patty nodded before hoisting Miss Bates up from the chair. She wrapped her arm around the weeping spinster’s waist and all but carried her from the room.
With a weary sigh, Emma dropped back into her chair.
“Mrs. Knightley,” Mrs. Bates said in a tremulous voice. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”
Everything, she was tempted to reply. And she feared that was no exaggeration.
CHAPTER6
Emma smiled at her husband as he ushered her out Hartfield’s front door. Sadly, the beloved of her soul did not smile back.
“I cannot be happy about this, Emma,” George said. “You should have spoken to me before confronting Miss Bates.”
Over the years, she’d learned that although George mostly had the right of things, he wasn’talwaysright. This was one of those times.
“In all fairness, George, you went out very early this morning to see Dr. Hughes and then Constable Sharpe.”
“You could have waited until I returned home for luncheon,” he dryly replied.
“Dearest, did you truly wish to be the first to confront Miss Bates about her extremely odd behavior? As gentle as I was, the poor woman was still overcome with hysterics. I had to fetch Mr. Perry to attend to her.” She breathed out a dramatic sigh. “But if you believe you could have managed the situation more adroitly, I sincerely apologize for overstepping.”
His mouth twitched only slightly, but she caught it. “Ha. Admit it, George. You loathe feminine vapors.”
“I concede your point,” he said as they walked down the drive. “Still, I do not relish explaining to Dr. Hughes or Constable Sharpe that you spoke to Miss Bates first. It is hardly proper procedure, Emma.”
“You’re the magistrate, George. Simply act”—she waved an airy hand—“magisterial.”
“Perhaps you could explain that to Dr. Hughes. He seems markedly unimpressed by mymagisterialqualities.”
“How dreadfully unhelpful of him. I suspect he believes that he should be magistrate, not you.”
