Chapter 9 #2
“I’m not so sure about that,” Emma replied. “There are aspects of Prudence’s death that can only be described as perplexing.”
Miss Bates looked puzzled, but Mrs. Weston’s expression began to transform into one of foreboding.
Her former governess knew her too well.
“Whatever can you mean, Mrs. Knightley?” asked Miss Bates.
Emma ran her finger around the rim of her teacup. “It seems that Prudence might have been keeping secrets.”
Miss Bates tilted her head, looking like an inquisitive sparrow. “What sort of secrets? And what would they have to do with—” She twirled a hand. “You know.”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Mrs. Weston let out an exasperated sigh. “Miss Parr’s death was simply an unfortunate accident. Dr. Hughes ruled it so, did he not?”
“Yes, but there was initially some question about that.”
“Are you referring to Constable Sharpe’s ridiculous theory that Miss Parr killed herself?” Mrs. Weston dryly asked.
Miss Bates clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Never say so! I cannot believe such a dreadful thing of that sweet girl.”
“She did no such thing, I assure you.” Emma frowned at her governess. “How did you hear about that nonsense?”
“As I understand it, there were servants in the room when this discussion occurred,” her friend replied.
“Mrs. Hodges would never—” Emma broke off with an exasperated sigh. “Harry.”
She was beginning to grasp what a nuisance the fellow could be. Still, she felt sure that Harry wasn’t engaging in malicious gossip for the sake of it. He was merely a dolt.
“I’ll have to speak with him,” she added. “Spreading that sort of tale will not do.”
“Perhaps it’s best if the entire subject is best avoided in the future,” said Mrs. Weston, giving her the look.
Emma had always called it the governess gaze, and it had generally been employed when the former Miss Taylor thought Emma was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
“But Mrs. Knightley said there were questions,” Miss Bates said in a hesitant tone. “And if Mrs. Knightley is concerned, then surely we should all be concerned.”
“I think Mrs. Knightley should discuss these questions with Mr. Knightley,” Mrs. Weston responded.
Emma rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Knightley already has.”
“And?”
“Let’s just say new evidence has come to light.”
“My dear—”
Emma put up her hands. “Just hear me out.”
“But why bring this to me?” Mrs. Weston glanced at Miss Bates. “To us?”
“Because you know most everyone, and you know everything that goes on in Highbury.”
She couldn’t help eyeing Miss Bates, though. Mrs. Weston’s discretion was assured, but her future stepmother? Not so much.
“It’s quite a delicate situation,” Emma added. “Someone’s reputation might be at stake.”
Miss Bates shook her head. “How could Miss Parr’s reputation be damaged any more than it already has been?”
“It’s not Prudence I’m speaking of.”
The spinster’s eyes went wide. “You’re speaking of someone who’s not dead! A not-dead person’s reputation.”
Emma had to repress an impulse to laugh. “That’s one way to put it. And since this person is … not dead, we must be careful not to besmirch his … their reputation if we … I arrive at the wrong conclusion.”
Good Lord. She was beginning to sound like Miss Bates.
“Then, Emma, are you perfectly sure you wish to discuss this now?” Mrs. Weston cast a meaningful glance at Miss Bates.
The spinster, unfortunately, caught the exchange of glances.
“You mustn’t worry about me, Mrs. Weston,” Miss Bates earnestly said. “If Mrs. Knightley wishes this information to be confidential, I assure you that my lips will be sealed—as well sealed as any of the letters I send to Jane. And I put a great deal of sealing wax on them, you know.”
“Of course, but I’m also not fond of keeping secrets from my husband,” Mrs. Weston said.
“I trust you understand that necessity, however,” Emma wryly replied.
Her friend huffed out a breath. “Very well. What, precisely, are you worried about?”
“Prudence’s manner of death, for one thing. I don’t know if you’re aware that the casement windows on that floor are quite narrow.”
“How observant of you,” Miss Bates said with admiration. “Of course, one is simply struck by the general beauty of Donwell, not necessarily the particulars.”
Mrs. Weston frowned. “Now that you mention it, I am aware that they’re long but narrow.”
“It wouldn’t be easy to fall out of one,” Emma said. “Even if someone was … unwell.”
Mrs. Weston looked blank for a few seconds and then let out a gasp. “Are you suggesting someone was in the room with Prudence?”
“Heavens!” cried Miss Bates.
Emma held up her hands again. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m suggesting. But it has come to my attention that someone was bothering Prudence that evening. In fact, behaving quite inappropriately.”
“How did you acquire this information?” Mrs. Weston asked.
“From Mrs. Hodges and Harry. It was clear to me that they were concerned about something but were reluctant to speak in front of Constable Sharpe and Dr. Hughes.”
Miss Bates crinkled her face, making her spectacles go lopsided. “I can certainly sympathize. Constable Sharpe can be quite intimidating.”
“For a nincompoop,” Emma couldn’t help but add.
Mrs. Weston tsked at her.
“In any event,” Emma continued, “this person was very forward with Prudence, which caused her to be quite upset. He was inebriated as well.”
“Are you referring to William Cox?” asked Miss Bates.
Emma blinked. “How did you know?”
“Mrs. Goddard told me.” She frowned. “I don’t quite remember when, although I do know it was before I went to sit with Mr. Woodhouse.”
Now that was interesting. “What did Mrs. Goddard tell you?”
“She said William had consumed a copious amount of ale and was making a nuisance of himself in the great hall. Mrs. Goddard was quite shocked because he was apparently flirting with one of her teachers.”
That was an unexpected revelation. “Do you know which one?”
Miss Bates shook her head. “No, but I’m sure she’d tell me if I asked.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Mrs. Weston dubiously noted.
“But if William was flirting with someone else, why did he then pursue Prudence?” Emma murmured, mostly to herself.
“Mrs. Goddard was very displeased with him,” Miss Bates added. “She gave William a sharp scold and frightened him quite off.”
“That doesn’t seem to have stopped him, if he then went on to make himself a nuisance with Prudence,” said Mrs. Weston.
Rather more than a nuisance, but how to prove it?
“Miss Bates, please try to remember as precisely as possible when William was behaving so badly,” asked Emma.
Miss Bates tapped her cheeks. “Let me see … not more than midway through the evening, I believe. His sisters were terribly embarrassed by his behavior.”
“I rarely cross paths with William Cox,” said Emma. “Is he in the habit of behaving so poorly?”
Mrs. Weston hesitated. “I never noticed so in the past.”
“Hmm,” muttered Miss Bates.
Emma raised an eyebrow at the spinster. “Ma’am?”
Her future stepmother looked apologetic. “Naturally, one doesn’t like to gossip about these things.”
Now Miss Bates was having qualms about gossiping?
“It’s for Prudence, though,” Emma said.
“Of course, Mrs. Knightley. You’re absolutely right,” the spinster replied. “I must not allow myself to become squeamish.”
Emma gave her an encouraging smile. “I think justice demands a stout response.”
Mrs. Weston sighed.
“Well,” said Miss Bates, leaning forward, “Mrs. Cox has expressed her concern for William. She’s afraid he’s fallen in with bad company and grown rather wild.”
Emma and Mrs. Weston exchanged a startled glance.
“In Highbury? What sort of bad company might that be?” Emma asked.
Miss Bates shook her head. “I don’t know that, but I do know that Mrs. Cox thought to discuss the matter with the curate. She hoped Mr. Barlowe could talk some sense into William.”
Emma found it hard to imagine the timid Mr. Barlowe making an impression on anyone, much less an obnoxious young man like William Cox. Still …
“I wonder if he did ever speak to William,” she murmured.
If so, the curate might be able to shed some light on the current state of William’s temperament, if nothing else.
“We could ask him,” Miss Bates innocently suggested.
Mrs. Weston looked startled. “I hardly think that would be appropriate.”
Emma flapped a hand. “I wouldn’t ask Mr. Barlowe directly. I would simply find a way to express my concern. After seeing the way William behaved at the party, that is.”
Mrs. Weston scoffed. “Yes, I can see that working very well. Emma—”
“Mrs. Knightley is correct,” interjected Miss Bates. “If William had anything to do with that poor girl’s death, we should do all in our power to find out.”
Emma stared at her, astonished. “Really? You agree with me?”
Mrs. Weston gripped her hands in her lap. “Emma, surely you cannot think that William Cox had anything to do with Miss Parr’s death. That would be …”
Murder.
The word seemed to hover in the air.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Emma replied. “But I think it’s possible something happened between them.”
“Then we should find out,” said Miss Bates. “I saw Mr. Barlowe returning to the vicarage on my way here. We can go there right now, Mrs. Knightley.”
This was certainly an unexpected twist. “That’s very kind of you, Miss Bates. However, I think it’s best that I speak with Mr. Barlowe alone.”
Miss Bates decisively shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of letting you take on such an unpleasant task by yourself, Mrs. Knightley.
Besides, as the daughter of a vicar, I know just how to talk to curates.
They tend to be rather skittish. Why, I even thought to marry one of my father’s curates at one point.
But he was quite a nervous man and never worked up the fortitude to propose, even though I was very encouraging at the time. ”
Emma and Mrs. Weston exchanged a dumbfounded glance at that astonishing glimpse into the spinster’s past.
Miss Bates all but jumped to her feet. “Shall we, Mrs. Knightley?”
It would seem that Emma had just acquired a highly unlikely partner in her inquiries.