“Mr. Elton, surely you never believed Miss Bates capable of murder.”
He grimaced. “No, which is why I now regret it. I simply wished to explain why I acted as I did, in the hope that Mr. Woodhouse might come to understand my reasoning—no matter how faulty it may have been.”
Emma suspected that no amount of reasoning would sway her father. Yet saying so would simply make the vicar feel worse.
“I cannot promise anything, but I will do my best,” she replied.
He gave her a grateful smile. “Of course you will, Mrs. Knightley. You never do anything less.”
CHAPTER19
“Dear Mrs. Knightley, you’re looking splendid,” Frank Churchill enthused, rising to greet Emma as she entered the Westons’ drawing room.
Frank was as handsome and charming as ever. For a brief spell, she’d once fancied herself in love with him, only to find that his attentions were simply a ruse to distract from his secret engagement to Jane. Like all his friends and family, Emma had been initially outraged by such ungentlemanly behavior. And like everyone else—with the possible exception of George—she’d forgiven him.
“How are you feeling, Jane?” she asked as the young woman also rose to greet her. “Better, I hope.”
“I’m still fatigued,” Jane admitted. “But that is to be expected after such a long journey. Thankfully, Highbury is so delightful at this time of year. I am sure I will benefit from the fine weather.”
“It’s also quite hot,” Mrs. Weston said as they took their seats. “You must be careful not to overexert yourself.”
Emma felt a twinge of anxiety. Jane’s normally lovely complexion was more sallow than ivory, and her eyes bore shadows underneath. “That’s very true, Jane. In your condition you must be particularly careful.”
At the allusion to her pregnancy, the young woman blushed, which at least had the benefit of bringing some color to her cheeks.
Frank took his wife’s hand. “You must recover your strength before you rush off to slay dragons, dear girl.”
“It’s that blasted constable who’s causing all the trouble,” Mr. Weston complained. “I’d like to give him a piece of my mind, but Mrs. Weston absolutely forbids me.”
“Because you would only make things worse, my dear,” his wife replied.
Emma sighed. “Yes, unfortunately. Both Dr. Hughes and Constable Sharpe resent what they perceive as any interference in their duties. And although the constable has been dreadful in his treatment of poor Miss Bates, I will grudgingly acknowledge that he does take those duties very seriously. Sadly, he’s completely lacking in imagination and acumen, and that is a fatal combination when charged with investigating a murder.”
His gaze acute, Frank studied her for a few moments. “Then I suppose we’ll have to investigate it ourselves. I imagine you’ve already made a start of it.”
“Goodness,” Emma exclaimed, adopting what she hoped was an innocent expression. “Whatever can you be talking about?”
“Ha! I knew it. Youhavebeen investigating. Tell all, Mrs. Knightley. What have you discovered so far?”
For all his occasionally feckless ways, Frank was far from stupid. He had a keen eye and a quick wit—talents developed out of necessity, no doubt, when he and Jane had been secretly engaged. He’d fooled them all, which certainly took some skill.
“I’m sure Mr. Knightley has the investigation well in hand,” Mrs. Weston said in an admonishing tone. “Is that not right, Emma?”
“Naturally, he has it in hand. With my help, of course.”
Mrs. Weston sighed, but Frank simply grinned.
“And where have your investigations taken you?” he asked again.
“For one thing, they’ve led to some very interesting information about Mrs. Elton.”
Emma explained her discussion with Mrs. Goddard, leaving out any details that might embarrass the headmistress or Miss Nash.
“Good heavens, Emma,” Mrs. Weston exclaimed. “What an extraordinary story.”
“What does Mr. Knightley make of it?” asked Mr. Weston.
Emma hesitated, aware that George would not wish her to discuss the case too freely. In fact, he would probably prefer her not to discuss it at all.
