breathing turned shallow. I did not anticipate that he would stop breathing altogether.” Mr. Perry ran a hand through his thinning hair. The loss of a patient, even one so little known to him, clearly distressed him. “I could not revive him — it was as if his lungs had simply forgotten their duty.”
“He had but three glasses of wine,” Frank said. “I have seen him drink more with no ill effect.”
“You knew him better than I,” Mr. Perry said, “but he did not appear tonight to be a man who can hold his liquor.”
“His conduct this evening was most unusual. I cannot account for it, except that he has not been himself since my aunt’s death, most particularly this se’nnight past.”
“Had he any wine or other spirits before coming here?” Mr. Knightley asked. “He seemed quite agitated about your having entered into your engagement with Jane Fairfax without his knowledge. Perhaps he was not as favorably disposed to the marriage as you believed, and dwelled upon his displeasure over Madeira or brandy before coming to dinner.”
“Nay, only tea, which we took with the Westons at half past four.” He approached his uncle, touched his hand. “I regret the pain all the secrecy surrounding our betrothal caused. Yet it was necessary at the time. Who could have imagined, when I met Jane, that within a twelvemonth I would have my independence? That I would lose both aunt and uncle in so short a span? I would not have dreamed it, nor wished it, for the world.”
Indeed, Emma thought, who
Frank stepped away from the lifeless body. “I must impart the news to Jane before the rest of the company learns of it. What a somber end to our celebration! And what an odd homecoming it will be when I bring my bride to Enscombe — installing her as mistress and myself as master all at once.” He left to find his wife.
Emma felt sorrow for both the misters Churchill. This was a shocking loss to Frank, particularly following so rapidly upon the death of his aunt. She could not help but also realize the unpleasant repercussions of this event to herself. Surely this was the most infamous dinner party in Highbury’s history! One of their most prominent guests had died — practically at the dining table. She could envision now how Mrs. Elton would describe the event in her next letter to Maple Grove.
No one would ever dine at Donwell again. Everybody would assume—
Her stomach churned. What if their assumptions proved true? What if, in fact, it was not drink that had killed Mr. Churchill, but spoiled partridge or tainted mussels, or some lethal root mistaken by the cook for horseradish?
“Mr. Perry, might he have died because of something he ate?”
“Unless others were ill when you left them just now, I doubt it was anything you served.” He offered a reassuring half-smile. “You need not fear having inadvertently poisoned your guests, Mrs. Knightley. Mr. Churchill’s distress seemed to have begun before anybody even entered the dining room. I believe the rest of us are quite safe.”
Emma’s uneasiness diminished, but Mr. Knightley now frowned.
“Perry, what do you believe caused Edgar Churchill’s death?”
“He could have ingested something earlier that did not agree with him, perhaps with his tea. One might expect, were this the case, that Frank Churchill and the Westons would be suffering similar effects if they took tea together. Edgar Churchill, however, was older, and would be more vulnerable to any virulence that he happened to encounter, particularly if he was already suffering melancholy due to the recent loss of his wife.”
The apothecary put on his coat, buttoning it across his generous paunch. “I know nothing about Edgar Churchill’s state of health before tonight,” he added. “It may be that he took medicine for some malady and accidentally used too much.”
“What sort of medicine? Laudanum?”
Mr. Perry shook his head. “Several of his symptoms do not correspond with opium overdose. Laudanum contracts the pupils, whereas his were quite dilated, and does not excite but slows the pulse. As I have also not observed among patients taking laudanum the sort of raving in which Mr. Churchill indulged, I would suspect another drug to be the agent of his demise, if it was caused by any drug at all. Perhaps Frank can tell you whether his uncle was taking remedies for any complaints.”
“Could more be determined by examining Edgar Churchill’s remains?” Mr. Knightley asked.
“I doubt it, but I can make an attempt. I need to retrieve some instruments from my office, however.”
Mr. Perry departed, leaving the Knightleys with the uncomfortable business of breaking the news to their guests.
“We should return to the drawing room,” Emma stated, “and attempt to control what is said of this matter — if word has not somehow reached everybody’s ears already. Doubtless, the servants are talking amongst themselves, and Frank Churchill’s disclosure to Jane might have been overheard.”
“Frank Churchill is a man capable of great secrecy when it suits him.”
“Do you intend to ask him about his uncle’s general health?”
Her husband was silent for a minute. “I have several questions for Frank Churchill.”
Emma did not like his tone. “Surely you do not believe Edgar Churchill’s death to be anything but a most unfortunate accident?”
“As Frank Churchill himself stated only minutes ago, his uncle’s death results in his inheriting a handsome estate just as he is taking a wife and starting a family of his own. I would not be a very competent magistrate if I failed to notice the coincidence.”
“Frank Churchill is as shocked by this event as we are.”
“Not too shocked to immediately realize the benefit of it to himself.”
Of course he had realized it — Frank was only human, after all. She herself had even thought almost immediately of the likely gossip and its effect on her own reputation in the village. It was not a reaction of which she was proud, but it was natural.
“You are unjust. From the moment Frank first came to Highbury — nay, before he even visited the village — you did not like him. All Highbury adored him, yet you privately expressed to me criticism of his character that I daresay you continue to harbor. You believed him derelict in his duty toward his father whilst he served the will of his rich aunt and uncle, the very people towards whom you now accuse him of not feeling enough. Could not your prejudice against him be causing your distrust?”
“I neither accuse nor suspect Frank Churchill of anything at present. But even did I not have a responsibility as magistrate, a guest has died in our house, and until the cause is clear, I cannot be easy. Nor, I should think, could you, given that this event will doubtless be the talk of the village for months.”
“Highbury will not think ill of Frank, and neither should you. Now, come assist me in disbanding this party and mitigating the inevitable gossip.”
“I am afraid no one can leave Donwell quite yet. One of our guests might have observed something regarding Mr. Churchill that we did not, and I want to speak with each person while his memory is untarnished.”
Emma regarded him in horror. “You are
“I will merely ask a few questions of each guest, in as discreet a manner as possible — a brief but personal conversation. I shall give the appearance of breaking the news of Edgar Churchill’s death gently and individually.”
Emma inwardly cringed. Mr. Knightley’s straightforward manner — which she considered one of his most admirable qualities — would doubtless defeat all his intentions of delicacy.
“Will you allow me to assist you?”
“You can aid me best by keeping everyone calm and diverted while I conduct the tete-a-tetes.”
“Then perhaps one of the other parish officials? There are so many guests that it will take you all night to question them.”
“Whom else can I trust to handle this properly? Mr. Elton? His vanity would turn the process into a witch hunt. Mr. Weston? As much as I esteem him and his friendship, and value his help in other matters, under these circumstances he is entirely the wrong person to further involve in the affair. Not only does his connexion to the Churchills render him biased, but he is of too social a disposition. He would take every person he interviewed into our trust, and there would be the end of any confidentiality.”
