“There is no need to apologize, sir. We are happy to help.”
“What would Highbury do without you, dear madam? How fortunate we are to have such models of compassion at Hartfield and Donwell Abbey.”
She mentally winced, since one of those models of compassion had been on the verge of ejecting him out the front door less than an hour ago.
“And how are you, sir? Have you been able to find a bit of peace and quiet these past few days?”
His shoulders slumped. “That’s just it, Mrs. Knightley. It’stooquiet. Augusta had such a dynamic personality. Always busy, always bringing energy to everything she did.”
While Emma had always found Mrs. Elton exhausting, of course Mr. Elton would feel differently. The vicarage no doubt echoed with her absence. Emma had experienced that same emptiness after her mother died—her laughter fading to silence, the scent of her perfume drifting away to nothing.
Still, Mr. Elton was a young man, so it was likely he would eventually recover and go on to lead a happy and productive life. And it would be with a less annoying woman than the first Mrs. Elton, one could hope.
She touched his sleeve. “I hope you can take comfort in the concern of your friends.”
He tentatively put out a hand. “Indeed I do, madam. In fact—”
When the door opened, he sprang to his feet with startling alacrity. Goodness, but the man’s behavior was changeable. Not for the first time, she wondered if grief had slightly unhinged him.
“Ah, Mrs. Wright with tea,” he exclaimed as the housekeeper entered, followed by a footman holding the tray.
Mrs. Wright gave a stiff nod. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Knightley. Sir, do you wish me to pour?”
“I think we can impose on Mrs. Knightley to perform that duty, can we not?” he said, smiling at Emma.
“I should be happy to.”
After another stiff nod, the housekeeper retreated, the footman in her wake.
As Emma prepared tea, she asked the vicar a few innocuous questions about church matters. He soon seemed to unbend and cast off some of his morose demeanor. After a few more minutes, however, he shifted a bit, suddenly looking awkward.
“How is your father?” he asked. “I called earlier today, hoping he would agree to see me, but he was not receiving visitors. I do hope Mr. Woodhouse isn’t suffering from poor health. I should be most distressed to hear so.”
Emma mentally prepared to deliver the blow. “It is my father that I wish to speak with you about, sir.”
He perked up. “I stand ready to serve Mr. Woodhouse in any way I can.”
“Unfortunately, I must again ask you to refrain from visiting Hartfield. I truly regret making this request, but it is necessary for my father’s well-being.”
He sighed. “I feared he was still displeased with me.”
She was surprised by his mild response. It seemed Mr. Elton had not heard Father yelling, after all.
“Let me just say that he remains perturbed about certain matters pertaining to the investigation. While I’m sure this is only a temporary situation, I must beg your understanding for the time being, Mr. Elton.”
He briefly closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Madam, please know that I nowdeeplyregret ever raising the issue. I had no idea that Constable Sharpe would act in so ungentlemanly a fashion toward poor Miss Bates.”
Emma blinked in surprise. “You know about that?”
“I spoke to Dr. Hughes this morning. The constable was also present and was quite insistent that I be informed of his conclusions regarding Miss Bates—and his regrettable actions. Naturally, I was devastated to hear that you were all subjected to such an unpleasant scene. That is why I went to call upon Mr. Woodhouse to offer my sincere apologies.”
Too late, I’m afraid.
“I appreciate that, Mr. Elton, but I fear my father will continue to remain disturbed until his friend is fully cleared of suspicion.”
“Which he blames on me,” he morosely said.
Emma gave him an apologetic grimace.
