Page 87 of Murder in Highbury

“And were Miss Nash and the maid the only ones present in the hall?”

“She didn’t mention anyone else.”

Emma fell to ruminating. What business was there between Mrs. Elton and Mrs. Goddard? Mrs. Goddard was a very sensible, good sort of woman. More than once, Emma had suspected that Mrs. Elton’s fine airs occasionally annoyed the headmistress, which made this encounter all the more interesting.

“So, do you think it has something to do with the murder?” Harriet prompted.

“Given the timing, it would seem a remarkable coincidence if it did not. It’s hard to imagine Mrs. Goddard as a murderer, though.” Emma cocked an eyebrow. “I presume Miss Nash was not suggesting any nefarious activities on her employer’s part?”

Harriet shook her head. “Miss Nash has the greatest admiration for Mrs. Goddard. But she thought the argument very strange, coming just before Mrs. Elton’s murder.”

Emma’s instincts were telling her that the incident must indeed be connected to the murder, at least in a tangential way. “Did Miss Nash tell anyone else about this?”

“No, but she did ask Mrs. Goddard about it. Mrs. Goddard apologized and said that Mrs. Elton was upset about a private matter. She also asked Miss Nash not to mention it to the other teachers.”

“Then why did she tell you?”

Harriet grimaced. “She says Mrs. Goddard is not herself. She seems very upset about something, and Miss Nash is worried for her.”

“Am I correct in assuming that Miss Nash wanted you to share this information with me?” Emma asked.

“Yes, because she doesn’t know what to do. Apparently, Mrs. Goddard snapped at some of the girls the other day, when they were simply running about the lawn. And she even forgot about one of her classes, which left the girls sitting in the classroom for a half hour.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “But she is always so punctual, and she never loses her temper with the girls. She is patience itself with my father.”

Harriet hesitated. “Do you think this really could have something to do with Mrs. Elton’s death?”

Emma stood. “There’s only one way to find out. We’re going to call on Mrs. Goddard and ask her.”

“Now?”

“Of course now. When it comes to murder, one mustn’t let a promising clue go to waste.”

Mrs. Goddard ushered Emma and Harriet to a chintz-covered sofa in the drawing room. Through an open window, they could hear schoolgirls playing an enthusiastic and noisy game of shuttlecock.

“Goodness, what a ruckus,” Mrs. Goddard exclaimed. “Mrs. Knightley, would you like me to close the window?”

“Not at all. It’s such a lovely day that I was tempted to join in with the girls.”

“We always had a great deal of fun in the summer,” said Harriet to her former headmistress. “You let us spend plenty of time outside.”

“I want my pupils to be strong and healthy, not die-away maidens who swoon at the slightest exertion,” Mrs. Goddard replied with a smile.

“They are very lucky girls,” said Emma.

That Mrs. Goddard genuinely cared for her pupils was beyond doubt. Her school deserved its fine reputation, and the good woman had worked hard over the years to achieve and preserve it.

The headmistress sat opposite them and began to prepare tea. “We have been fortunate to have the patronage of so many kind people like yourselves and dear Mr. Woodhouse. And I have been blessed to teach wonderful girls like Harriet.”

For a few minutes, they chatted amicably about school matters while they sipped tea and nibbled macaroons. Emma had to do a little schooling of her own—in patience, because she was eager to skip the formalities and get to the bottom of yet another mysterious chapter in the increasingly murky tale of Mrs. Elton.

And she sensed that underneath Mrs. Goddard’s affable façade lurked uneasiness.

As Harriet and Mrs. Goddard talked, Emma glanced around. It had been some months since she’d been in the drawing room, which was generally employed to receive parents and guardians. It was quietly tasteful, and stylish enough to reassure anxious mothers that their darlings would be properly cared for and taught their manners.

“Mrs. Goddard,” she said. “Are those new curtains?”

They were quite smart, glazed calico in a rich hunter green that matched the sturdy but tasteful rug over polished floorboards. The curtains were tied back with black velvet cords, which added a discreetly fashionable touch.