Page 28 of Murder in Highbury

“The good doctor does seem to have an excellent regard for his own opinion.”

When Emma laughed, he finally cracked a smile.

“My poor George,” she said, “all this is a great deal of fuss and bother for you.”

“What truly matters is obtaining justice for Mrs. Elton. Everything else pales in comparison.”

Her amusement faded at the truth of that sobering reflection. “I hope Dr. Hughes and Constable Sharpe are up to the task. You’re too busy to catch the killer by yourself.”

“I’m sure they will do everything necessary.”

Though Emma doubted that, George didn’t need her pestering him with concerns beyond his control.

“Did you have the opportunity to write to Jane Churchill?” he asked.

“By the time I had explained the situation to Mrs. Bates and then fetched Mr. Perry, I was barely able to arrive home before luncheon. In any case, after thinking on it, I believe it would be best if Mrs. Weston wrote to Jane. She will know just what to say. The Westons are stopping by for tea later this afternoon, so I will speak with her then.”

George shook his head. “This is a great deal of trouble for you, too. I am sorry for it.”

“I am happy to help, especially if it relieves you of some of your burdens.”

“It cannot have been easy to explain this unfortunate situation to Mrs. Bates,” he said as they entered Highbury.

The dear old lady had been dreadfully distressed as Emma explained the situation to her. It had been Mrs. Bates who’d asked her to write to Jane, since she and her daughter would need the support of the Churchills to see them through this ordeal.

“She was so upset, especially when I told her that Miss Bates might be required to give testimony at the coroner’s inquest.”

“You can be sure she will,” he replied rather grimly. “First, though, she will need to give her statement to Dr. Hughes. I suspect Constable Sharpe will wish to question her, as well.”

They paused as Mr. Cox rode by on his new filly, which, according to Harriet, was his current pride and joy. One would think his children would qualify as such, but knowing Mr. Cox’s impertinent daughters, Emma couldn’t blame the man for preferring his horse.

“Good morning, Mr. Knightley, Mrs. Knightley,” he called, preening a bit.

They returned his greeting before resuming their discussion.

“I hope you intend to prepare both men for the likely outcome of such questioning,” Emma said. “Constable Sharpe in particular seems the sort of person who will provoke Miss Bates into a bout of the vapors.”

“A hideous prospect, to be sure. I might even be forced to employ some smelling salts for myself.”

Emma choked back a laugh. “It’s quite wicked of you to make me laugh when we are talking of such dreadful things.”

He cast her an ironic glance as they turned into Vicarage Lane. “Forgive me. I find that since our marriage, my sense of what is appropriate has become somewhat impaired.”

“Truly? Then, well done me.”

He snorted.

“But in all seriousness, George,” she continued, “Miss Bates’s manner of speech is so confused, especially when she’s perturbed, that I’m afraid she will completely befuddle Dr. Hughesandannoy Mr. Sharpe.”

“Dr. Hughes is already aware of her foibles. As for Constable Sharpe, he’s convinced that Mrs. Elton was murdered for her necklace. It would take a great deal of imagination for anyone to envision Miss Bates engaging in such a brazen act of thievery, and our constable is not a man of imagination.”

“From what I’ve observed of him in the past, his wits certainly do not live up to his name.”

“Now, Emma,” said her husband, gently chiding. “Constable Sharpe takes his duties very seriously. While the parish vestry was generous in paying him a small salary, it is hardly adequate for a task of this nature. He is a farmer as well as a constable, as you know, and I’m sure he’d rather be minding his own business than tracking down poachers or keeping order in taverns. It’s a thankless job which very few men wish to take on.”

George was an advocate of a more professional policing, of the type that had recently been introduced in London and other large cities. But customs in the country were hard to change—as was the attitude that stouthearted Englishmen could manage their own affairs without the law breathing down their necks.

“True, but Mr. Sharpe seems to be leaping to conclusions. I think I could do a better job of investigating, quite frankly,” she replied.