“She was very sympathetic to my discomfort in feeling obligated to Frank and Jane and said that every woman should strive as much as possible for independence. And that the best way to do so was by investing one’s money in a good bank.”
Emma couldn’t help gaping at her. “Mrs. Elton gave you investment advice?”
Miss Bates nodded.
George held up a hand. “I think I understand now. Mrs. Elton didn’t give you monies directly. She took your ten pounds, added her fifty, and invested the total on your behalf.”
Miss Bates flashed him a relieved smile. “Yes, that’s it. She said it was very safe and that I should realize a tidy sum on my investment. Because she said ten pounds wasn’t nearly enough to invest, she loaned me the additional funds.”
Mrs. Bates, quiet through the entire discussion, let out a weary sigh. “Oh, Hetty.”
Her daughter’s face crumpled. “I see now that it was very foolish. But it was Mrs. Elton, and she was quite insistent. I . . . I thought it would be . . . Well, I don’t know what I thought. She just seemed to sweep me away, and . . . and it seemed a sensible and correct thing to do at the time.”
“Investing one’s money is generally a sensible thing to do,” George assured her.
But apparently not in this case, and why in heaven’s name would Mrs. Elton give a fig about investing money for Miss Bates?
“Miss Bates,” she asked, “if Mrs. Elton was so willing, what then was the cause of your quarrel?”
“She needed the money back, apparently, and was quite insistent that I repay her. I told her that I couldn’t. I’d never had it, because it was her money to begin with.” She anxiously twined her fingers together. “She was very unhappy with that answer.”
“When did this particular conversation occur?” George asked.
“The Monday prior to her death.”
Constable Sharpe let out a derisive snort, earning another glare from George.
Emma laid a hand on the spinster’s arm. “Did Mrs. Elton mention why she needed the money so urgently?”
Miss Bates shook her head.
“Did she upbraid you in any way for refusing?”
“She said that I should not have encouraged her.” The little spinster looked terribly sad. “I thought that such an odd comment, Mrs. Knightley, because Mrs. Elton had been so insistent that I allow her to invest on my behalf.”
“What did she do after you told her that you couldn’t repay the funds?” asked George.
“She said that I must repay the funds within the month. When I said that I couldn’t, she got up rather hastily and said she had other business to attend to.” She grimaced. “Before she left, she insisted that I meet with her on that . . . that Saturday, at the church, to discuss the matter further. I . . . I was so rattled by then that I agreed to do so, even though I couldn’t imagine how anything might be different.”
“So you arranged to meet with the victim on the day of the murder,” interjected Constable Sharpe with typical bluntness. “Did you tell your mother or anyone else you were meeting her?”
Miss Bates cringed. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I . . . I suppose I was embarrassed.”
The constable huffed out a breath. “And is that the real reason, or were you planning onconfrontingpoor Mrs. Elton?”
Miss Bates started to tremble. “I . . . I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean—”
“That’s enough, Constable,” George sharply interjected.
Emma drew her attention. “Miss Bates, do know why she wished to meet at the church, rather than at your apartment or the vicarage?”
“I wondered about that, too, Mrs. Knightley. At the time, I thought she was trying to spare Mother’s feelings—and shield me from Mr. Elton’s disapproval, if he were to come upon our discussion. So I agreed that the church would be more appropriate.”
