Carrie Bebris - The Intrigue at Highbury

Frank paused, momentarily distracted by activity down the lane. The mail coach had arrived at the Crown, and passengers hurried inside to obtain a quick meal in the brief time allowed whilst the horses were changed. Fortunately, Frank did not appear to have noticed Mr. Perry leaving on horseback from the inn’s livery with his portmanteau — else he might have wondered where the apothecary was traveling whilst Edgar Churchill’s corpse remained in his custody.

“When you heard the voices, what did you do?” Darcy asked.

The question diverted Frank’s attention from the inn. “That stretch of road is heavily shaded when the trees are in full foliage, so I hid myself in the shadows as I approached. When I saw Miss Smith surrounded by gypsy beggars, I immediately stepped forward and bade them be gone. They took themselves off, and I assisted Miss Smith to Hartfield and the Woodhouses’ care.”

“Were they merely begging,” Mr. Knightley asked, “or did any of them physically threaten Miss Smith?”

“Their verbal assault and proximity frightened her quite enough.”

“Did any of them speak to you?”

“The children ran away directly, and an older boy also lumbered off. The woman stared at me hard — she seemed quite surprised — no doubt my sudden appearance startled her. She muttered a few words in her own tongue, then went back to the camp.”

“It sounds as if the young lady was most fortunate that you happened along when you did,” Darcy said.

“Indeed. Had my intended departure not been postponed by an errand to Miss Bates’s house, I would have been halfway to Richmond by the time Miss Smith had need of me. As it was, I had to hurry off the moment I saw her safely settled at Hartfield, for my aunt impatiently awaited my arrival.”

“And this encounter, I am sure, caused significant additional delay. Richmond is what — ten miles from here?”

“Nine.”

“That is a long distance to travel by foot,” Darcy said, “particularly if pressed for time.”

“I planned to walk only part of the way,” he replied. “It was a fine morning, so I sent my servant ahead with my horse by a different path. We were to meet where that road crosses the Richmond road, another mile or two past where the gypsies were camped.”

Darcy found Mr. Churchill’s account curious. That a man traveling such a distance, departing later than intended, would not only squander time completing part of the journey on foot, but also send his servant and horse ahead by another road entirely, rendering them inaccessible to him should he wish to hasten his pace — had the morning truly been that fine, to inspire such a decision? Moreover, for him to then arrive at the very stretch of road where the gypsies camped, at the exact moment he was needed… Frank Churchill’s life truly did seem to be ruled by coincidence.

Darcy did not believe in coincidence.

As they talked to Frank, Mr. Cole had entered the lane on horseback. He now dismounted, looking as if he wanted to speak to Mr. Knightley. The magistrate walked forward to confer with the constable in private whilst Darcy continued his interview with Mr. Churchill.

“I appreciate your speaking with me about this incident on a day when I am sure your thoughts are elsewhere,” Darcy said. “If my wife and I are to recover our stolen possessions, time is of the essence. As it is, I was just going into Ford’s to replace some necessities. I heard there has also been a peddler in the village of late. Have you, by chance, seen him?”

“Not today. He stopped at Randalls the day we arrived from London — I saw him talking to Mrs. Weston, and later to my uncle. He was here in Broadway Lane the day before yesterday. I bought a very nice snuff box from him.”

“Did you purchase anything else? Or did your uncle? I am hoping he has a broad selection of merchandise.”

“I bought only the snuff box. My uncle bought nothing at all — at least, not when we saw him here in the village. In fact, he barely spoke to Mr. Deal.”

“I understand his wares include gypsy-made remedies for various complaints. Did he show you any of those? The robbery greatly upset my wife, and she now suffers a headache that has defied traditional cures.”

“I am sorry to hear it. I know nothing of any medicines. I suggest you consult Mr. Perry, the village apothecary.”

“I shall, thank you.”

Mr. Knightley finished his business with Mr. Cole and rejoined them, apologizing for the interruption.

“If Mr. Darcy has no more questions regarding the gypsy incident, I am expected back at Randalls,” Frank said.

His account had raised a considerable number of additional questions in Darcy’s mind, but none he wished to pose at present. “I believe we have done for now.”

After Mr. Churchill left them, Mr. Knightley revealed the subject of his conversation with the constable. “Cole found evidence of a recent encampment, this time on the Portsmouth road. The gypsies, however, have fled. He will recruit some men and follow their trail.”

“Let us hope he finds them. Meanwhile, Frank Churchill claims he has not seen Hiram Deal today.” He gazed down the lane in the direction Mr. Cole had taken.

When he received no reply, Darcy turned. Mr. Knightley stared up the lane in the opposite direction, his attention commanded by a vehicle just entering the village.

A peddler’s cart.

“Did I not mention the bird?”

Emma stifled an exasperated huff. “No, Harriet, you did not.” And now the imminent entrance of a visitor threatened to curtail discussion of the one point of information that might prove useful to Mrs. Darcy.

“It was a great black thing — a crow or a raven or something like that. It swooped in just as the children swarmed around me, then circled above. Heavens, its caw was worse than their begging.”

“Were they not frightened by it?” Mrs. Darcy asked.

“They paid it no mind at all, just kept pestering me.” Harriet opened the door. “Oh, Mrs. Elton! Mr. Elton! I hardly expected — what an honor, for you to call! Why, I believe this is the first time I have had the pleasure of a visit from you.”

Emma stiffened. The Eltons took advantage of every opportunity to snub Harriet. Depend upon it, this social call had an ulterior purpose, and Emma had little doubt as to its nature. They were come to gossip.

About her.

More specifically, about her deadly dinner party. It had truly been too much to hope that word of it had not spread throughout the village like wildfire. And of course the Eltons could be counted upon to fan the flames. If they were calling at Abbey Mill Farm, doubtless they had already circulated the news among those few of Highbury’s better families that had not been personally present to witness the debacle.

Emma glanced at Mrs. Darcy, who studied her with interest. Emma realized that her countenance had momentarily betrayed her dislike of the new arrivals. “Mr. Elton is our parish vicar,” she said simply. Mrs. Darcy impressed Emma as an astute woman. A few minutes in the Eltons’ company would reveal every essential about the couple.

“It is indeed our first visit to you as Mrs. Robert Martin,” Mrs. Elton said. “I just realized this morning that we had not yet acknowledged your new situation — our parish duties keep us so occupied that I declare I do not know where the time goes! But I told Mr. E. that we must correct the oversight immediately, and so here we are.”