CHAPTER 25
“Another cup of tea, my dear?” asked Mrs. Weston.
“You’ve already stuffed me with tea and cakes,” Emma replied with a rueful smile. “Father would be most alarmed to see me consuming queen cakes in the middle of the afternoon.”
“You’ve had a difficult week, Emma. You deserve a little pampering.”
“If anyone deserves pampering, it’s George. That poor man has been run from pillar to post for three days now, ever since Mr. Suckling’s arrest. But I will happily stand in for him.”
After a morning spent immersed in the household accounts, Emma had decided to reward herself with a visit to Randalls. Once her father was settled after lunch, she’d set out on the gloriously sunny afternoon. The clear skies and a crisp feel to the air signaled that the end of summer was approaching.
It had been rather marvelous to indulge in a leisurely stroll, secure in the knowledge that no crisis demanded her attention. Although Mr. Suckling’s trial loomed on the horizon, and many questions were as yet unanswered, today she could put all that aside and simply enjoy an afternoon with friends.
As luck would have it, the men were out, which left the ladies to the pleasures of a comfortable chat. By tacit agreement, they’d so far avoided the subject most on their minds. Instead, they’d discussed Mrs. Weston’s plans to refurbish the dining room, agreed that little Anna was the prettiest baby in the world, and debated how long Jane and Frank should remain in Highbury before returning to Yorkshire.
It was a blessedly normal day, the first she could remember in weeks.
“You must admit that the queen cakes are delicious, though,” said Jane as she selected one from the oak tea tray. “It’s dreadful of me, but I cannot resist another one.”
Mrs. Weston gave her a fond look. “We’re so happy you’ve regained your appetite. You should eat as many cakes as you like.”
“I seem to be famished these past few days,” the young woman admitted. “If I go on like this, I shall grow as big as a house.”
Emma smiled. “But that is the natural order of things, is it not? Truly, Jane, you look splendid now. We were all quite worried when you arrived.”
Compared to the wan-faced girl who could barely keep anything on her stomach, Jane now brimmed with life. Her complexion had regained its lovely bloom, and her gray eyes their sparkle. It was a tremendous relief to see her looking so well.
Mrs. Weston nodded. “Mr. Perry sees the return of Jane’s appetite as an excellent indication of her general health.”
“I am sure he’s correct,” Emma replied. “I also suspect Jane has improved thanks to her aunt and grandmother’s relief from their burdens.”
Jane finished her last bit of cake before replying. “To know that Aunt Hetty is no longer under suspicion has been a tremendous relief, I will admit. Although she remains a trifle anxious regarding the promissory note and the monies owed to Mrs. Elton—or to Mr. Elton, as the case may be. I have tried to convince her not to fret, but you know how she is.”
“There is no debt attaching to her name,” Emma firmly replied. “Rather, it is she who is rightly owed money by Mr. Suckling—or Mr. Elton. However, I imagine it’s unlikely she will ever recoup it from either one.”
“Frank has made it clear to Aunt Hetty that she is not to worry about that, either. We will cover any loss incurred.” Jane sighed. “Although, of course, she feels terribly guilty about that, too.”
Mrs. Weston tsked. “Miss Bates did nothing wrong. Both Mrs. Elton and that dreadful Mr. Suckling took advantage of her. One is, of course, very distressed by Mrs. Elton’s death, but it was quite shocking of her to impose on your poor aunt in such a fashion.”
“I’ve always wondered why Mrs. Elton did so,” mused Emma. “It seems so odd to ask someone like your aunt to invest in a financial scheme.”
“I was mystified, too,” Jane replied. “But after discussing it with Aunt Hetty, Frank has come to the conclusion that Mrs. Elton was hoping that we could be persuaded to invest in Mr. Suckling’s banking venture, as well.”
The light dawned for Emma. “Ah, I see. If the initial investment was successful, Mrs. Elton hoped that Miss Bates would persuade you and Frank to invest.”
Jane nodded. “Yes, and also Frank’s uncle, Mr. Churchill.”
“It all seems rather convoluted to me,” said Mrs. Weston.
Emma waggled a hand. “Mrs. Elton no doubt wished to curry favor with her brother-in-law, and it likely never occurred to her that the venture would prove so risky. I suspect she was blinded both by the magnificence of Maple Grove and Mr. Suckling’s self-importance. So, to have it end in such a dreadful fashion—murdered by the very man she hoped to please—is truly an irony.”
“It makes one reluctant to trust anyone,” exclaimed Mrs. Weston. “To be murdered by her own brother-in-law, one can hardly imagine anything worse.”
“With the possible exception of being murdered by one’s own spouse,” Emma dryly replied.
Mrs. Weston grimaced. “My dear, what a dreadful thought. I cannot begin to imagine it.”
“That is because you’re married to the kindest man in the world. And I’m sure none of us need worry in that regard, either.”
“I do feel dreadfully sad for Mrs. Elton,” Jane quietly said. “She was kind to me, you know.”
Kindness was not the word Emma would have used to describe Mrs. Elton’s behavior. Patronizing and pushy were the terms that still sprang to mind. But since she’d made so little effort to befriend Jane when the young woman was most in need of friendship, it was best not to voice such opinions.
“Emma, are you and Mr. Knightley certain that Mr. Elton will not attempt to recover any funds from Miss Bates or Mrs. Goddard?” asked Mrs. Weston. “It would be dreadfully awkward if he did.”
“You need have no worries. Mr. Elton places the entire blame on Mr. Suckling and now heartily regrets the distress he caused Miss Bates.” Emma smiled. “Besides, my father would have something to say if Mr. Elton dared to broach the topic with Miss Bates.”
Mrs. Weston pressed her hands together. “Ah, Mr. Woodhouse. Mr. Elton was to call on him yesterday, was he not? I do hope your father wasn’t unduly distressed by his visit.”
“It was rather more distressing for Mr. Elton, I imagine. It took some persuading on my part to secure Father’s agreement to see him.”
“Aunt Hetty certainly holds no grudge against Mr. Elton,” said Jane. “She even expressed admiration for his courage in confronting Mr. Suckling.”
“What about Mrs. Bates?” Mrs. Weston shrewdly asked. “Is she also as forgiving?”
Jane hesitated. “I think it might take my grandmother longer to reach a similar state of charity with Mr. Elton.”
Emma couldn’t help but laugh. “I think your grandmother would like nothing better than to crack Mr. Elton over the head with her cane—after dishing out the same punishment to Constable Sharpe.”
Jane smothered a giggle.
“I hope Mr. Woodhouse did not resort to such measures,” Mrs. Weston said with a wry smile.
“He was inclined to be stuffy at first, but he did unbend—especially in light of Mr. Elton’s injuries. There is nothing more certain to gain my father’s sympathy than one suffering from a physical ailment. Father delivered a lengthy discourse on the benefits of poultices versus ointments for bruises, and he even wished to send for Mr. Perry. He was persuaded against it only by Mr. Elton’s earnest promise to visit Perry at the first opportunity.”
“That would certainly endear Mr. Elton to your father.”
“Mr. Elton delivered a very sincere apology, I must say,” Emma added. “It was lacking in his usual flourishes and seemed to genuinely come from the heart.”
In fact, Mr. Elton’s visit had gone even better than she’d hoped for. His humble apology, combined with his dreadful appearance, had done its work. The initial visit, expected to last only fifteen minutes, had extended for over an hour. Mr. Elton had patiently listened to her father recount his own ailments and various treatments and had even eaten a bowl of Serle’s gruel.
Well, he’d managed to choke down half a bowl, anyway. Emma had made sure to whisk it away as soon as her father was distracted, replacing it with newly baked scones and excellent strawberry jam.
When the visit had finally drawn to a close, it seemed that past sins were forgiven. Father had sent Mr. Elton off with a packet of his own headache powders and extended an open invitation to visit Hartfield. Mr. Elton, overcome, had lapsed into old habits and expressed his gratitude in flourishing terms. It was rather silly but obviously well meant, so Emma had sent him on his way with another basket of goodies from the kitchen. That had also cheered him greatly.
“Mr. Woodhouse and Mr. Elton are friends once more, then?” asked Mrs. Weston.
“It appears so. In fact, Mr. Elton is sitting with Father this afternoon. He stopped by Hartfield to return the basket just as I was about to set out for Randalls. He offered to escort me, but I suggested instead that he sit with my father. When I left them, Mr. Elton was regaling Father with the details of his visit to Mr. Perry this morning.”
“That must have pleased Mr. Woodhouse.”
“Indeed. I couldn’t escape quickly enough.”
The ladies laughed, but then Jane grew serious. “I must confess I’m relieved that Mr. Elton didn’t escort you to Randalls. Frank is not best pleased with him, and I’m not entirely certain he would be quite so polite.”
Mrs. Weston breathed out an exasperated sigh. “I’m afraid Mr. Weston feels the same way, which is most unlike him.”
“Ho, now,” said the man himself, walking into the room. “Do I hear my name taken in vain?”
Frank followed closely on his heels. It took a few minutes for husbands to kiss wives, for greetings to be exchanged, and for tea to be served to the gentlemen.
When they were all settled again, Mr. Weston regarded his wife with an enquiring expression. “I believe you were discussing Mr. Elton when Frank and I came in. I hope there’s nothing amiss. We don’t need any additional troubles on his account, do we, Frank?”
“Certainly not. And if Elton has any intention of trying to reclaim money from Aunt Hetty based on that blasted promissory note, he shall have me to deal with.”
Since he was looking rather severe—and Frank was generally not one to be severe—his wife hastened to reassure him.
“Nothing of the sort,” Jane said. “According to Emma, Mr. Elton wishes most heartily to make amends for the unfortunate events of these past weeks.”
“I should bloody well hope so,” he replied.
“Frank! Such language in front of ladies,” Mrs. Weston scolded in her best governess voice.
He flashed her a rueful grin. “My apologies, dear ma’am. But one can’t help feeling rather warm on the subject.”
“There’s no need to worry,” Emma said. “All is well. I even left Mr. Elton at Hartfield, keeping company with my father.”
“Oh, ho,” exclaimed Mr. Weston. “So Mr. Woodhouse has forgiven our vicar. Well, then, I suppose the rest of us must, too.”
“Ha,” muttered Frank, obviously disgruntled.
Jane touched his hand. “Dearest, if my aunt can forgive him, then we should, as well. Mr. Elton has very sincerely apologized. We must not hold grudges.”
“When I see the effect of his actions on you and on your family, I most certainly can hold on to a grudge. The fellow’s a pompous ass, and we all know it.”
Mrs. Weston looked pained. “Frank, that is most unchristian of you. The Lord does call on us to forgive.”
As Frank reached for a scone, he looked not the least bit perturbed by his stepmother’s reprimand. “That would require one to believe Elton is truly a changed man. And you’ll forgive me if I withhold judgment in that regard.”
“I say, Emma, what is the latest news on Suckling?” asked Mr. Weston in a rather obvious attempt to divert the conversation. “Mr. Knightley went down to Guildford the other day to question him, did he not?”
Mrs. Weston frowned. “My dear, I’m not sure we should be quizzing Emma on the legal elements of the case. Mr. Knightley might not approve.”
“No, it’s fine,” said Emma, waving a hand. “Everything will come out at trial, regardless.”
“Then do tell all, Mrs. Knightley,” Frank said, his good humor apparently restored by the scone. “The locals are agog with curiosity.”
“I’m afraid I cannot tell all that much,” she confessed. “Mr. Suckling was exceedingly rude. He refused to tell George where he’d been on the day of the murder, claimed that everyone in Highbury was a fool and a scoundrel, and was adamant that he would speak only to his solicitor and his wife. He even swore at George, if you can imagine.”
Mr. Weston huffed with disgust. “Outrageous. Man’s a thorough cad!”
“It was a great waste of my husband’s time, certainly,” Emma replied.
When George returned home two evenings ago after a long day, he’d been thoroughly out of sorts. He’d opined that Mr. Suckling was either quite mad for refusing to talk to him or was indeed Mrs. Elton’s killer.
“What will you do now?” Emma had asked him.
“I believe I must ride into London tomorrow and attempt to speak with Mrs. Suckling. Surely she will be more forthcoming and would at least wish to provide her husband with an alibi.”
That venture, unfortunately, had also proved less than satisfying.
“And what of Mrs. Suckling?” asked Mr. Weston. “I assume she’s still staying in London, in that town house they rented. Was Mr. Knightley able to speak with her?”
“George was kept waiting in the hall for twenty minutes, and then a servant informed him that Mrs. Suckling wouldn’t speak to him,” Emma dryly replied. “If I didn’t know better, I might even begin to think the woman doesn’t exist. After all, none of us have ever laid eyes on her.”
Frank shook his head. “Another sad waste of a day for Mr. Knightley.”
“Not entirely, because he stopped in Brunswick Square to speak with his brother, John, who has been looking into Mr. Suckling’s finances. Apparently, he has suffered substantial losses and will be forced to retrench. John is of the opinion that he might even be forced to sell Maple Grove.”
“I doubt there is a bank or an investor in England that would be willing to lend him the necessary funds at this point,” commented Mr. Weston.
“Emma, do you truly think Mrs. Suckling was unaware of her husband’s financial difficulties?” asked Mrs. Weston. “Given that the situation is apparently so dire, that would seem hard to believe.”
“Mr. Elton is convinced she didn’t know. He said Mrs. Elton was determined to apprise her sister of the situation and enlist Mrs. Suckling’s help in recouping the funds, regardless of the consequences.”
Jane put down her teacup. “Are you suggesting that Mrs. Elton would have been willing to expose Mr. Suckling’s financial troubles?”
“So Mr. Elton believes. He claims it was the reason behind her murder in the first place.”
Jane firmly shook her head. “Mrs. Elton would never have exposed her sister to scandal or treated her so shabbily. They were exceedingly close. I believe she would have done everything she could to protect Mrs. Suckling, not humiliate her.”
Mr. Weston smiled kindly on her. “You would think so, my dear, but you have a very tender heart. Whatever good one might say about Mrs. Elton, one would never call her tender or sentimental.”
“No, I agree with Jane,” Frank put in. “Whatever her faults— and they were many—Mrs. Elton was genuinely devoted to Selina. She also set great store in her sister’s elevated status in society and would do everything she could to protect it.”
“Even at the expense of her own status and financial standing?” Emma asked.
“I believe so. After all, she stood more to gain by Mr. Suckling successfully retrenching than from going bankrupt. For one thing, how could she ever recover any of her lost savings if he did not?”
That observation struck Emma with significant force, as it cast an entirely new light on the situation.
“That’s very true, Frank,” she said. “What would she gain by exposing Mr. Suckling if he would then be unable to repay her?”
“Nothing, as far as I can see.”
“But the necklace,” said Mrs. Weston. “It was found in his luggage. Surely there could be no doubt about his guilt, given that evidence.”
Emma hesitated but then voiced an idea that until this moment had been nothing more than an ephemeral wisp dancing at the edge of her thoughts. “Unless someone planted the necklace in his bag, hoping to divert suspicion.”
That stunned the others into silence.
Mrs. Weston recovered first. “But who would do such a thing?”
“Possibly the person who found it,” Emma slowly replied.
Mr. Weston goggled at her. “Mrs. Wright? You cannot mean it.”
Emma hesitated. “I don’t know that I do, but her behavior has been so odd. For instance, why did she take it upon herself to repack Mr. Suckling’s luggage? It was rather forward of her.”
Frank shrugged. “Yes, but that’s not entirely unusual. Servants pack our luggage all the time.”
“True,” said Jane. “But not just any servant. Only my maid attends to my things, and when you don’t travel with your valet—as you did on this trip—you pack your own bags.”
“Very badly, I might add. Any self-respecting housekeeper or maid would take one look inside my bag and immediately give her notice,” he jested.
“The point remains that Mrs. Wright took it upon herself to repack Mr. Suckling’s valise without his permission,” said Emma. “At which time she conveniently found the necklace.”
Mrs. Weston held up a hand. “But why would she murder her own mistress?”
Emma tapped her forehead, as if in doing so, she could break free the tangle of questions that bedeviled her. “For the necklace, one might suppose. But then why give it up?”
“Perhaps she sensed she might be falling under suspicion?” mused Jane. “And that it would be discovered among her things?”
Mr. Weston looked dubious. “I don’t think anyone has raised any suspicions against her. Certainly, there was no question in that regard during the inquest.”
Emma sighed. “You’re right, of course. But she is very angry about something, or at someone. Mr. Suckling, for one. And why has she so precipitously abandoned her position, especially when she has no other employment? Mr. Elton certainly had no intention of letting her go. Even though he needs to economize, he made it very clear that he depended greatly on her.”
“It is rather dodgy for her to scamper off like that,” mused Frank. “Never took to the woman myself. She’s rather a grim sort, don’t you think, Jane?”
His wife nodded. “Yes, and I must confess that she has been rude to me on more than one occasion when Mrs. Elton was not in the room.”
“What?” Frank exclaimed. “Why the devil was she rude to you? And why didn’t you tell me?”
Ah, now it made sense.
“I’ll wager she was rude because she was jealous of Jane’s relationship with Mrs. Elton,” Emma said.
Jane wrinkled her nose. “I thought that might be the case, although it seemed so silly at the time. Why would a housekeeper be jealous of me?”
“The woman is clearly deranged,” Frank said with disgust. “Perhaps she had something to do with the murder, after all.”
Emma cast her mind back, searching for the relevant conversation. “Dr. Hughes did tell me it was possible that Mrs. Elton was murdered by a woman.”
“Good gracious,” exclaimed Mrs. Weston. “For all her faults, I cannot believe that Mrs. Wright is guilty of murder. Mrs. Elton spoke so highly of her. And by all accounts, Mrs. Wright was devoted to her mistress.”
“It does seem rather far-fetched,” added Mr. Weston. “If robbery was her motive, Mrs. Wright wound up leaving empty-handed.”
For all her theorizing—and admitted flights of imagination—Emma could not disagree.
“You’re right, of course,” she replied. “All the evidence points to Mr. Suckling. Still, there are many unanswered questions. How was he able to escape detection that day? He presumably traveled on horseback, so where did he stable the animal? And we have just heard confirmation of how unlikely it was that Mrs. Elton would expose her sister to scandal and disgrace, which suggests a lack of motive on Mr. Suckling’s part.”
Frank nodded. “True. Mr. Cole also informed me that Suckling has apparently hired a Bow Street Runner to try to clear his name. Seems a silly thing to do if he’s actually the guilty party.”
“That might be for show,” Mr. Weston pointed out. “Suckling is paying the fellow, after all. He can send the runner off in any direction he likes.”
“Is it possible there might be more than one person involved in the murder?” Jane asked in a hesitant tone.
Emma blinked. That possibility had never occurred to her. “Are you suggesting that Mr. Suckling had an accomplice in Mrs. Wright?”
Jane waggled a hand. “Perhaps. As you pointed out, she has been behaving most oddly. And the coincidence of finding the necklace does tax credulity.”
“But if such is the case,” said Mrs. Weston, “why would Mrs. Wright then implicate him in so direct a fashion?”
Frank snapped his fingers, looking almost gleeful. “Perhaps they were lovers, and Suckling betrayed her. She sought her revenge by planting the necklace in his valise.”
“By Jove, I think you could be right,” exclaimed Mr. Weston, eagerly catching the scent. “That would wrap it all up rather neatly, wouldn’t it?”
Mrs. Weston directed an incredulous stare at her husband. “Why in heaven’s name would Mr. Suckling have an affair with Mrs. Wright, of all people?”
Emma didn’t know whether to laugh or recoil in horror. “Mr. Weston, I would suggest that this notion is significantly more far-fetched than anything I have proposed.”
“I don’t know,” said Frank. “They’re both very unpleasant people, which would make them perfect for each other.”
“I simply cannot envision Mrs. Wright engaging in such behavior,” said Jane in a frankly skeptical tone. “With anyone.”
Emma pulled an exaggerated face. “Indeed. The notion leaves one feeling rather queasy.”
“Perhaps Suckling made monetary promises to her and then reneged,” Frank replied. “He used Mrs. Wright to help him carry out the deed but then up and betrayed her.”
“But then why wouldn’t he simply accuse her of murder?” asked Mrs. Weston.
Emma shook her head. “He would still be implicated in the crime. No, as disturbed as I am by Mrs. Wright’s behavior—and as much as I agree that she is thoroughly unlikable—I’m afraid we’re probably drawing too long a bow.”
Frank gave a good-natured shrug and reached for another scone. “I suppose you’re right, although I’d like nothing better than to see the blasted woman punished for the way she treated my poor Jane.”
“Going to the gallows for murder seems a bit of an excessive punishment,” Emma wryly commented.
Still, she couldn’t rid herself of the sense that Mrs. Wright was indeed involved in the web of lies and mysteries that surrounded the murder. She just couldn’t fathom the ways and the whys of it.
“I suppose we just have to accept the fact that all the evidence points to Suckling,” said Mr. Weston as he selected a cake from the tea tray. “After all, he’s the one who stands to benefit the most from Mrs. Elton’s death.”
“That is true,” Emma replied. “If Mr. Elton is to be believed in this matter.”
If Mr. Elton is to be believed.
For a moment she felt an odd swooping sensation, as if she’d just lost her footing and taken a tumble down a hill. She’d said the words almost absently, but now they seemed to lock into her mind, holding her thoughts in a fast grip.
Mrs. Weston frowned at her husband. “My dear, that is your third cake. You’ll ruin your appetite before dinner.”
“I’m a former military man,” he drolly replied. “Nothing ruins our appetites. In fact, I think I’ll have one of those scones after I polish this off.”
Mrs. Weston tsked at him, while Frank began to tease his father about his sweet tooth. But to Emma, the room and the voices had faded away as one idea after another spun madly in her head.
Jane’s voice called her back to the moment. “Emma, is something wrong?”
Emma glanced up to meet her friend’s concerned gaze. Dredging up a smile, she tried to force the alarming but surely ridiculous notion out of her brain. “Not a thing. I’m simply thinking . . .”
Frankly, she didn’t know exactly what she was thinking.
“It’s very frustrating, isn’t it?” Jane replied in a commiserating tone. “Not having all the answers.”
“Very. But as my husband has reminded me, we must let justice take its course, and hope that all questions will then be answered.”
Her remark captured Mr. Weston’s attention. “I, for one, am looking forward to putting this business behind us. After all, there’s that blasted poultry thief still running about. The sooner Constable Sharpe can turn his attention to that matter, the better.”
Emma widened her eyes at him. “I’d forgotten all about the thief. Has he struck again?”
Mrs. Weston grimaced. “I’m afraid so. He got into Mrs. Cole’s chicken coop the other evening. The man grows bolder by the day.”
Mr. Weston patted her hand. “I’m sure Constable Sharpe will run him to ground soon enough, now that Suckling is behind bars.”
Frank snorted. “Doubtful. The man’s clearly a fool.” Then he flashed a grin at Emma. “Perhaps the magistrate should look into it.”
“The magistrate has quite enough on his plate, thank you,” she tartly replied.
“And he certainly has better uses for his time,” added Mrs. Weston. “I’m sure he’s very busy at Donwell, since the harvest is approaching.”
“Indeed,” Emma replied as she stood to take her leave. “He has missed a great deal of work, thanks to the demands of this investigation. William Larkins is most displeased with him. I expect he’ll keep my poor husband working right through dinner.”
George had indicated as much when he’d set off this morning for Donwell.
“You are certainly welcome to stay here for dinner, my dear,” said Mr. Weston, also rising. “Frank can then walk you home.”
Frank hopped to his feet and gave a dramatic bow. “It would be my great honor, Mrs. Knightley.”
She had to smile. “Thank you, but I must get back to Father. If news of Mrs. Cole’s chickens comes to his ears, he’ll be in a terrible fret.”
Farewells were exchanged, after which Mr. Weston walked her to the front door.
“Try not to trouble yourself over this murder business, Emma,” he said. “All will come right in the end.”
“I’m sure that is true.”
But as she set off down the drive, Emma knew she didn’t believe that. And one question in particular now came to the fore. It was a simple one but went to the heart of the matter. In the murder of Mrs. Elton, who stood to benefit the most?