Miss Bates shook her head. “Constable Sharpe apparently told Mrs. Stokes that it was a robbery. Mr. Clarke’s clothing was … was discomposed, and his watch and fob were taken.”
“Thievesandsmugglers,” Father moaned. “What is to become of us? We shall all be killed in our beds!”
“We’re perfectly safe here at Hartfield, Father,” Emma said in soothing tones. “And I strongly suspect that this supposed thief was actually one of the smugglers.”
Most likely he made the attack on Mr. Clarke appear to be a robbery. It strained credulity to think otherwise. It also suggested that the prevention officer had been making progress— and that Mr. Clarke’s apparent headway had caused someone to become very nervous.
“I wondered if that was the case,” confessed Miss Bates. “To have both robbersandsmugglers in Highbury would be too dreadful.”
“And extremely coincidental,” Emma replied. “I can only wonder what Mr. Clarke was doing in the churchyard in the middle of the night?”
Miss Bates held up a hand. “I think I know. He was probably investigating the strange lights.”
Emma frowned. “What strange lights?”
“In the bell tower, after midnight. There was a report of strange lights up there.” Miss Bates twirled a hand. “Mr. Clarke has been staying at the Crown Inn when in Highbury, according to the groom. The poor man must have seen them and gone out to investigate.”
“I didn’t know he was back in Highbury,” Emma replied, musing on the information.
As she now knew, churches were often used as depots for contraband goods. And one certainly had to note that Mr. Barlowe had been acting rather oddly ever since Prudence’s murder. Did he know something about the smuggling gang, after all, and had been frightened into silence?
“Did anyone else see those lights?” Emma asked.
Miss Bates nodded. “Apparently Mr. Perry did.”
Father flapped his napkin. “Perry should not be out so late, especially with such dangerous villains roaming about.”
“Miss Bates, how do you know Mr. Perry saw the lights?” asked Emma.
“After Patty ran back and told us what had happened, I set off immediately for Hartfield. On the way, I ran into Mrs. Cole.” She pulled a sympathetic grimace. “Mr. Cole was feeling poorly last night, so they were forced to call for Mr. Perry. Dyspepsia, you know. Mrs. Cole says that Mr. Cole’s business gives him a nervous stomach.”
Father huffed. “Nonsense. Mr. Cole eats too much cake and too many rich foods. I’ve told Perry as such, and he agrees with me.”
Emma tried to stay on point. “So Mr. Perry saw those lights on the way to see Mr. Cole?”
Miss Bates nodded. “He mentioned it specifically to Mrs. Cole when he arrived, but was then taken up with treating Mr. Cole. And Mrs. Cole forgot all about it until this morning. But she told me that she was going to speak to Constable Sharpe as soon as she saw Mrs. Ford about procuring flannel waistcoats for her husband—to help with his dyspepsia.”
“Flannel waistcoats will do nothing to help dyspepsia unless Mr. Cole leaves off eating cake,” Father severely noted.
Emma ignored her father as she focused on what to do. Speaking to Constable Sharpe or Dr. Hughes was clearly out the question. They would simply dismiss her. But something was clearly going on at the church, something that likely led to the beating of Mr. Clarke. Who better a person to speak to, then, than Mr. Barlowe?
First, she needed to get into that bell tower.
She stood. “Father, it might be best if I go into Highbury and check on poor Mr. Clarke. Mrs. Stokes is always so busy, and who knows if she has the proper medicinal potions on hand at the inn. She might need help.”
Her father’s eyes popped wide with alarm. “Emma, you must not leave the house! Not with villains running about the village.”
“I’m sure there’s no danger. After all, Mrs. Cole was out and about, and Miss Bates safely came to Hartfield.”
“Miss Bates should also remain here,” he stubbornly replied.
The spinster pressed a feeling hand to her chest. “Dear Mr. Woodhouse, always so concerned for everyone’s care. But I believe Mrs. Knightley is correct. There were quite a few people on the street, and all the shops were opening up. I even saw Mrs. Goddard and some of her pupils out for a brisk morning walk. You know she would never put her girls at risk.”
“And you did say we should have Mr. Perry visit poor Mr. Clarke,” Emma swiftly added. “I can stop by and ask him to do that.”
Father wavered. “Perhaps if you take one of the footmen with you?”
“What a good suggestion,” Emma enthused.
