Page 152 of Murder in Highbury

“Dash it, I suppose Mr. Knightley is right,” Mr. Weston replied with a gleam of humor. “Which is why he’s the magistrate and not me.”

Emma patted her husband’s arm. “George is always right. And if you have any doubts on that score, he will be sure to tell you so himself.”

That produced a genuine smile from him, just as she’d hoped.

“We should be off, Mr. Weston,” his wife said. “It’s been a dreadfully fatiguing day for Emma and Mr. Knightley, and they must get their rest.”

Emma hugged her friend, murmuring her heartfelt thanks. The gentlemen shook hands, farewells were made, and the Westons departed for Randalls.

“Father,” Emma said as the door closed behind their friends, “I think you should retire early. This has been a very trying day for you, as well.”

“I do not deny it, my dear,” he replied as she helped him up from his chair. “But I fear I will not sleep a wink, thinking about how you and George were in such mortal danger.”

“There were a few tricky moments,” she admitted as she escorted him to the door. “But the danger passed very quickly. Mr. Elton could never get the best of Mr. Knightley, you know. The notion is entirely inconceivable.”

Thankfully, her father smiled at her bit of foolishness. After promising to check on him shortly, Emma handed the old dear off to the ever-faithful Simon, who was waiting in the hall.

When she returned to her husband, he raised his eyebrows, his expression frankly skeptical.

“What?” she asked.

“Only a few tricky moments?”

“Father was so distressed that I thought I should avoid the most gruesome bits. I hate to think how he’ll react when he hears the full story, since he no doubt will from Miss Bates,” she ruefully said.

“That is a worry for another day. Right now, I have a few things I wish to say to you.”

She crinkled her nose, recognizing the signs of an impending lecture. “May I at least fetch you a brandy first? I’m sure you stand in need of one.”

He expelled a sigh and ruffled a hand through his hair, making it stand straight up. It was so endearing and so unlike him that she couldn’t resist going up on tiptoe and kissing him. His arm slipped about her waist as he responded with a tenderness that brought a mist to her eyes.

When he finally released her, she had to rub her nose.

“Goodness,” she said, “I’m turning into a watering pot. Whatever will you think of me?”

“What I think is that you were decidedly reckless this afternoon,” he replied, adopting a severe expression. “I cannot be happy that you placed yourself in such danger, Emma. To say I was alarmed by your sudden appearance—and your refusal to leave the study—is to greatly understate the case.”

She took his arm and towed him to the settee, then gave him a little shove onto the cushions.

“How could I possibly leave? He would have killed you, George,” she said as she went to pour him a brandy. “And that very likely would have killedme.”

Emma knew she would not have recovered from such an unthinkable loss. That moment she saw Mr. Elton pointing his pistol at her beloved husband had been the worst of her life.

“Besides,” she added, as she returned to him, “you know very well that Mr. Elton would never have killed me. He said so himself.”

George took the glass Emma proffered and put it down, then grasped her wrist and gently pulled her onto the settee beside him.

“Yes, because he loved you,” he said. “I suppose we must be grateful for that.”

“As much as a madman can love anyone, I suppose. I’ve been pondering that very point, though. I think his emotions had a great deal more to do with his own amour propre than with any true feelings for me. Mr. Elton simply couldn’t understand how I could reject him. You heard him—he was absolutely convinced I would return his affections once you were disposed of.”

George shook his head. “The man was clearly living in a fantasy world to believe such a thing.”

“Lucky for us that he was.” She rested a palm flat on his chest. “Still, it wouldn’t have mattered. I would never have left the room, no matter what Mr. Elton threatened to do.”

He studied her for a long moment, the warmth in his gaze igniting an answering glow in her heart.

“Then despite my dismay that you were forced to witness so horrific a scene,” he said, “I cannot be anything but grateful for your courage. You were truly heroic in the face of danger, my Emma. I stand in awe of you.”