Page 77 of Murder in Highbury

“I was simply going to note your exemplary kindness toward me in these dreadful days. You are a treasure, Mrs. Knightley, a veritable treasure. I do hope my dear friend Mr. Knightley realizes his great fortune in having the honor to be your husband.”

She blinked. His thanks were understandable, but his praise seemed rather exaggerated.

Best to make light of it.

“Mr. Knightley is well aware of his good fortune,” she said with a smile. “And if he is ever in danger of forgetting, I will be sure to remind him.”

He inclined his head. “No man could ever forget you, Mrs. Knightley.”

“Er, thank you.”

“Just as I will never forget my dear Augusta,” he added, heaving a sigh. “Her image is imprinted on my memory like a blazing comet. How could one ever forget such a woman, Mrs. Knightley? Despite the pain, does one evenwishto forget? I do not!”

She struggled to find a sensible yet sympathetic reply. “Mr. Elton, are yousureyou do not wish for a sherry?”

He managed a weak smile. “I have let my emotions run away with me again. I assure you that Iwillrecover my equanimity with such friends as you and Mr. Knightley to support me. And dear, dear Harriet—I mean, Mrs. Martin. Your friend is a true angel, Mrs. Knightley. I amquiteovercome by her generosity of spirit in these dark days.”

Emma could barely muster a response to this alarmingly warm paean to Harriet. “Indeed. She is an excellent friend.”

George, where are you?

Thankfully, he reentered the room in the next moment.

“There you are at last,” she said with relief.

He looked surprised. “I’ve been gone only a few minutes, my dear.”

She glanced at the bronze clock on the mantel. He’d been gone less than ten minutes, even though it had felt like an age.

“Of course. It’s just that we’re eager to hear how you got on with Miss Bates.”

George resumed his seat. “Not terribly well. As you predicted, she was reluctant to speak in the presence of her mother.”

She sighed. “Oh dear.”

“Indeed, Mrs. Knightley,” exclaimed the vicar. “Her reluctance to speak with Mr. Knightley is concerning.”

Emma had to repress a flare of irritation. “One cannot blame her for not wishing to disturb her mother. That is hardly a crime.”

“Just as you say, madam,” he quickly replied. “But as the Good Book says, one must bring what is hidden in darkness into the light.”

“The only darkness is the confusion in Miss Bates’s mind,” she retorted. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this.”

George held up a restraining hand. “Which I expect to hear tomorrow. Mrs. Bates generally takes a nap in the early afternoon, so Miss Bates has asked me to stop by then to speak with her.”

“She gave no hint about the note whatsoever?” Mr. Elton asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

The vicar seemed to steel himself. “Sir, I think youmustrelay the contents of this note to Dr. Hughes. He specifically raised the issue of a dispute between my wife and Miss Bates during the inquest. I am most uncomfortable with the idea of withholding this information from him.”

Emma frowned. “Sir, I thought we agreed that Miss Bates had nothing to do with your wife’s murder.”

“And I am sure you are correct, Mrs. Knightley. Still, it would seem remiss of me not to hand this evidence over to Dr. Hughes—if for no other reason than to clear Miss Bates of any suspicion. She will provide a sensible explanation, and that will be the end of it.”

“But—”

George took her hand. “I’m afraid Mr. Elton is correct. The note must be turned over to Dr. Hughes. It will then be up to him whether to include it in the records of the inquest.”