Mr. Elton touched Emma’s shoulder. “Perhaps I should go. I have no wish to cause dear Miss Bates any further distress, and I regret that I asked her such an indelicate question in the first place.”
Sighing, Emma rose to her feet. “That might be best. If you could perhaps find Mr. Perry, I would be forever in your debt.”
He grasped her free hand. “I will search for him with the greatest of diligence. And if there is any other way I can serve, you have simply to ask.”
“Just Mr. Perry, sir. And please get yourself something to eat. I’m sure you’re quite worn out.”
“You are too kind, madam. You think only of others and not of yourself.”
“Yes, yes,” Emma’s father cut in before she could reply. “But please do hurry, Mr. Elton. It is vital that you find Perry immediately.”
The vicar beat a hasty retreat.
“I thought he would never go,” her father said with an indignant huff.
“It’s been a very difficult day for him,” Emma replied in a soothing tone. “He is not himself.”
“He was very insensitive to Miss Bates.”
Miss Bates wiped her nose and drew in a shuddering breath. “You mustn’t worry about me, Mr. Woodhouse. For me to act in such a way . . . quite shocking . . . really. I feel terrible for Mr. Elton. To distress you all . . . I am qui-quite ashamed of myself.”
“Emma, pour Miss Bates a sherry, just a small one to steady her nerves,” Father ordered. “And check on Mrs. Bates, as well, to see if she is in need of something to calm her nerves.”
She eyed her father, still amazed by his newly decisive manner.
“Don’t dawdle, my dear,” he added.
After fetching a glass of sherry from the sideboard, Emma tiptoed up to Mrs. Bates, who was still asleep.
Lucky her.
When Mr. Perry hurried into the room, Emma expelled a sigh of relief. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”
“Mr. Elton said it was an emergency.”
The poor man looked harried, which was not to be wondered at. Even on a solemn occasion such as a funeral reception, her father kept him hopping.
“Perry, you must attend to Miss Bates,” Father exclaimed. “Her nerves are in tatters, and she will fall ill.”
“Surely not. Miss Bates is always so healthy. In fact, Mr. Woodhouse, I was certain I’d been called to attend you.”
“I’m perfectly well, but you must see to Miss Bates.”
Emma and Mr. Perry exchanged a startled glance. The wordsperfectlyandwellwere not ones that normally existed side by side in her parent’s lexicon.
“Father, I must attend to the other guests,” she said as the apothecary began to speak to Miss Bates. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”
He gave her a distracted wave. “As you wish, my dear.”
After slipping from the room—and breathing a massive sigh of relief—Emma decided to search for her husband and Harriet. She was a trifle worried about her friend. It was clear that something had distressed her, beyond the natural emotions generated by the occasion.
When she reached the great hall, she couldn’t help wincing at the din. She’d been to Christmas parties more solemn than this occasion—although, to be fair, the lugubrious note at some of their holiday festivities was usually due to the behavior of her own relations.
Going up on her toes, she searched for George and Harriet in the throng, but neither seemed to be present.
A peal of laughter from a nearby table caught her attention.
Drat.
