Page 124 of Murder in Highbury

Her husband stood. “My dear, I’m sure Mrs. Wright has everything she needs to—”

“Nonsense. One cannot depend entirely on servants in cases such as this. Mr. Elton needs his friends right now. He needs us.”

Emma truly believed that. She also believed they wouldn’t get any straight answers about Mr. Suckling until they heard it directly from Mr. Elton himself.

She began to mentally tick off a list of necessary supplies. “George, perhaps you can pop in and explain things to Father while I gather up what I need. I’ll meet you in the entrance hall in a half hour.”

He eyed her with a skeptical expression and then simply shrugged his acquiescence. Emma graced him with an approving smile as she hurried from the room.

CHAPTER24

“It would make life easier if Mr. Suckling were indeed the murderer,” Emma said to her husband as they walked toward the vicarage. “But there are so many unanswered questions.”

“Such as?”

“For one, Mr. Suckling was ostensibly in London that day. How could he slip in and out of Highbury unnoticed? That would take a great bit of luck.”

“Presumably, he came by horse, which would mean only one animal to keep out of sight for a short period of time. It’s possible that someone did see him, especially on the road, but would not remark on it. Remember that it was a very hot day, and few people were out and about. You mentioned that yourself, as I recall.”

He shifted the large basket of supplies to his other arm.

Emma frowned, momentarily diverted. “George, you should have allowed one of the footmen to carry the basket. I’m sure it’s much too heavy.”

He cast her an amused glance. “My dear, I know I strike you as a weedy sort of fellow, but I am well able to carry it.”

She scoffed, since her husband was one of the tallest and fittest men in the parish and had a fine set of shoulders, which she admired on a regular basis. “I simply don’t wish you to get overheated.”

“I am hardly likely to get overheated by walking a scant ten minutes to the vicarage. Although it does appear that you emptied half the contents of the medicine chest into this basket, as well as most of Serle’s baking.”

“Perhaps I did overdo it, but poor Mr. Elton! Under the circumstances, one feels one cannot do enough.”

He immediately sobered. “Yes, it’s truly hard to believe.”

That reminded her of another niggling doubt. “Why do you think Mr. Suckling was so secretive in his meeting with Mrs. Elton? Surely he didn’t travel to Highbury with the express intention of killing her.”

“He might well have.”

She let that horrid thought settle for a moment. “Very well, let’s say that is so. Why would Mrs. Elton agree to meet him secretly? And in the church, of all places?”

“Perhaps because she didn’t wish her husband to know about their meeting. And barring a secluded country lane or a spot in the woods, I can think of few places more private than the church on a quiet Saturday afternoon.”

“She was also to meet Miss Bates, don’t forget.”

“I imagine that Suckling didn’t realize his sister-in-law would be meeting Miss Bates.”

“George—” She broke off to acknowledge a greeting from Mrs. Peters, who was out tending the small vegetable garden in front of her cottage.

“Mrs. Peters seems a great deal improved,” commented George as they passed by.

“Yes, she was able to return to work at Ford’s last week.”

“That is excellent news.”

Emma eyed her husband. After his brief spasm of irritation during the interview with Constable Sharpe, he had reverted to his usual state of calm. In fact, one might call him positively phlegmatic—quite a mental feat given the dramatic events of the day.

“George, what aren’t you telling me?”

He lifted both eyebrows in exaggerated surprise. “Are you suggesting I would withhold information from my beloved wife?”