Page 39 of Murder in Highbury

Father looked aghast. “Emma, this crowd is quite dreadful. Dr. Hughes was most remiss in allowing it.”

That Mrs. Elton’s inquest was being seen as something of an entertainment was unfortunately obvious. An excited buzz filled the room, and a number of villagers had brought along bundles of food, as if attending a sporting event. The scent of meat pies and a strong odor of onions wafted through the air, curdling her stomach.

“It is certainly not ideal, but you needn’t stay, dearest. I’m sure Miss Bates will be fine.”

Or not.

Miss Bates would be the first witness to testify. Given how poorly she’d dealt with Emma’s sympathetic questioning, it was hard to imagine that she would perform any better under the present circumstances.

Her father adopted a look of dogged determination. “No, my dear. I will not shrink from my duty. Miss Bates is my very dear friend, and I have every intention of supporting her in her time of trial.”

When heads whipped around at this pronouncement, Emma mentally winced.TrialandMiss Bateswere an unfortunate combination in this particular situation.

Constable Sharpe startled her by suddenly looming by her side. The man reminded her of a terrier, darting about and appearing when least expected.

“Mrs. Knightley, can I be of assistance?” he asked, his bristly eyebrows snapping together in an almost comical glower.

Rail thin and of middling height, Mr. Sharpe gave the impression of narrowness, both in form and temperament. His spare features and plain black garb suggested the air of a disgruntled cleric.

“Thank you, but we’re fine,” she replied.

He tipped his hat to her father before directing his scowl back at her. “You’re blocking the doorway, Mrs. Knightley. Best take your seat, before you jam the place up. The whole town is fit to squeeze in here, as if they have nothing better to do.”

Father looked over his shoulder and then grasped her elbow with some urgency. “Emma, there is a family standing behind us, with three children. Children!”

“Yes, it’s quite shocking for them to be exposed to such a scene.”

“But they might be infectious, Emma. You know how infectious children can be.”

She repressed an entirely inappropriate urge to laugh as she gently nudged him forward.

As they processed up the center aisle, her father was oblivious to the stares and comments that followed in their wake. He so rarely ventured past the gates of Hartfield that to see him in person—at the local inn, no less—was a novelty.

There were many faces in the crowd that she didn’t recognize. More than just the locals had come to witness the spectacle, which was to be expected. The murder of a vicar’s wife was bound to have caused a commotion throughout the surrounding countryside.

Mrs. Weston and Harriet, seated in the front row, stood to greet them.

“Mr. Woodhouse!” exclaimed Mrs. Weston. “What a surprise.”

Emma could well understand her reaction, since a volcano spewing forth in the middle of the town square was almost more likely than her father’s appearance at such a public event.

“I couldn’t countenance the thought of Miss Bates going through this ordeal without my support,” he replied. “But if she can bear it, I certainly must steel myself to do the same.”

When foolish titters erupted behind them, Emma turned to encounter the unwelcome sight of the Cox sisters, sitting in the second row with their mother.

Anne smirked at her. “La, Mrs. Knightley, your father does say the quaintest things. What a dear old fellow to be so kind to Miss Bates.”

Mrs. Cox rapped the girl’s hand with a small fan. “Anne, mind what you say. Mrs. Knightley will be shocked to hear you speak of her father that way.”

Anne looked surly but held her tongue. Not for the first time, Emma wondered how such a respectable woman could have raised such an unappealing child.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Cox,” she said. “I hope you’re well.”

The woman stood and bobbed a curtsy. “As well as can be expected, Mrs. Knightley. To be called on to speak about such things in front of all these people . . . why, it makes my heart quail just to think of it.”

“Yes, it’s very distressing.”

“For some more than others,” Susan Cox said, casting a meaningful gaze at Miss Bates.