Page 6 of Murder in Highbury

“Yes, and as such, I would have been required to send for him immediately.” George checked his pocket watch. “Hughes must be visiting a patient, or else he’d be here by now.”

“And Harriet must have gone there after him.”

Her husband looked dubious. “I trust you impressed upon her the need to be discreet and cautious.”

“I did, although she was very rattled. But since neither Miss Bates nor anyone else has descended upon us, we can assume that Harriet has so far managed to keep what she has seen to herself. You were at Donwell, I take it?”

“I was walking back to Hartfield when the boy found me.”

She suddenly gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. “You didn’t stop at Hartfield, did you? Please tell me the boy didn’t stop there first.”

Her father was a kind but fretful man who greatly depended on Emma for his daily comfort and peace. Any sort of upset or change, even a minor one, was enough to cut up his nerves and bring on a bout of ill health. George, unwilling to cause her father any distress, had therefore moved into Hartfield after their marriage. Since her father loved George like a son, he had gratefully welcomed him into their home rather than losing his daughter to Donwell.

Because her father remained fretful and easily overset, Emma dreaded the deleterious impact the murder of someone he knew would have on his health.

“The boy bypassed Hartfield and took the way to Donwell,” her husband replied. “Your father knows nothing. Of course, it will be difficult breaking the news to him, but we cannot worry about that now.”

She gathered herself. “You’re right. We cannot leave Mrs. Elton here all day, and there is Mr. Elton to consider, as well.”

“Hughes will take charge of the body and conduct a proper examination, and I’ll break the news to Elton.” Then he frowned. “Emma, why didn’t you wait outside? I cannot be happy that you stayed in here by yourself.”

She spread her hands wide. “I couldn’t leave her alone, George. It just didn’t seem right. Besides, I was perfectly safe.”

Or perhaps not.

“I trust you saw or heard no one else the entire time?”

When she hesitated a second, alarm flared in his dark gaze, and he took a step closer. “Emma, what aren’t you telling me?”

“I must show you something.”

She led him to the altar and pointed to the blood-smeared candlestick. George leaned in to inspect it. Then he quickly pulled a handkerchief from an inside pocket, wrapped it around the base, and picked it up for a closer look.

“I think that must be . . .” Emma wriggled a hand.

“The murder weapon?” George starkly replied.

“That seems quite clear.”

He carefully put the candlestick back down. “Did you hear or see anything else that gave you pause?”

“Besides the corpse lying on the chancel steps?”

Her husband sighed. Emma’s sense of the absurd sometimes surfaced at inappropriate times, a habit she couldn’t seem to break. Fortunately, George rarely held it against her.

“I did hear something,” she admitted. “I believe there was someone in the vestry.”

For a moment, he gaped at her. “While you were in the church?”

“Of course, George. How else could I have heard the noise?”

“Good God, Emma.” He grimaced. “What did you do then?”

“I went to see who it was.”

He took a hasty step forward, looking horrified. “Did it not occur to you that it was very likely the person who murdered Mrs. Elton?”

“Of course it did. That’s why I took the other candlestick, in case I had to defend myself. A good thing, too, because when I put it back, I noticed the blood on the other one.”