Darcy’s frown deepened. “Mr. Knightley and I learned today that Frank Churchill is his uncle’s sole heir.” He recounted their meeting with Mr. Perry, including his colleague’s confirmation of the poisoning diagnosis, and the solicitor’s revelation that Edgar Churchill had requested a meeting before he died.
“All of this intelligence increased my suspicions about Frank’s role in the deaths of both Edgar and Agnes Churchill,” Darcy finished. “Frank, however, declares himself ignorant of his uncle’s desire for a meeting, and of other questionable circumstances surrounding their demises. Your information about Jane Churchill and Mr. Dixon leads me to wonder whether we have not considered broadly enough who else benefits from the two deaths.”
“I hardly think fresh draperies and wallpaper constitute sufficient motive for a double murder. At a minimum, new plate and silver ought to be included in the bargain.” She set the
“Do you yet discuss Mr. Dixon?” Mrs. Knightley and her husband reentered the drawing room. “Surely there must be more interesting subjects of discourse than his shopping on behalf of the Bates ladies.”
“What interests me is who financed it,” Darcy replied.
“Frank Churchill can well afford it now,” Mrs. Knightley said, “and I consider it an admirable gift to his bride, seeing to the comfort of her only family.”
“What of the Campbells?” Elizabeth set the two vowels upon the table with the consonants she had already spread out, but took no more letters from the box. “Are they not also her family, in a manner of speaking?”
“They might have raised her, but they are not blood relations. One cannot feel the same depth of affection as that between parent and child — or in the case of Mrs. Bates and Jane Churchill, between grandmother and grandchild.” Mrs. Knightley moved towards an empty chair, but paused as she passed the table with the alphabets. Disapproval clouded her features, and she scooped up the strewn tiles. “Has this silly children’s amusement not been put away yet?” She deposited the letters into the box and shut the lid. “I shall have to speak to the housemaid.”
The conversation turned to other subjects. By now, Elizabeth and Darcy had established a rapport with the Knightleys which, while still new, had achieved a degree of relative ease, and Elizabeth found it refreshing to talk about something besides robbery and suspected murder. Darcy seemed to particularly enjoy Mr. Knightley’s society. Just as tea was brought in, Thomas Dixon appeared.
“You return earlier than I anticipated,” Mrs. Knightley said. “How was Mrs. Elton’s party?”
“It began unexceptionally enough, until Frank Churchill’s disagreeable behavior put a damper on the evening.”
Mrs. Knightley poured tea and handed a cup to Mr. Dixon. “Indeed? Frank Churchill is usually so charming.”
“Not this evening. He could barely hold still while we waited to go in to dinner, and was hard-pressed to follow the conversation.” He sipped his tea, then gestured towards Mrs. Knightley with the cup. “Thank you. I had no tea at Mrs. Elton’s following dinner. The situation with Frank Churchill was so awkward that everybody found excuses to disperse before any was served.”
Concern overtook Mrs. Knightley’s features. “Do you think he was upset about something?”
“From the flush of his countenance, I think he was foxed. His father thought so too, I wager, for as dinner was concluding, Mr. Weston asked Mr. Churchill to leave the dining room with him on some pretext. When Frank Churchill stood up, he swayed and complained of dizziness. I pity Mr. Weston — he must rue the day he turned his son over to the Churchills.” He heaved a great sigh. “I hope for Jane Churchill’s sake that her husband learned something from his uncle’s death. I would hate to see him come to the same end. At least Frank Churchill held his liquor, which is more than Edgar Churchill proved able to do.”
Foreboding took hold of Elizabeth. There were similarities indeed between the accounts of Frank’s and Edgar’s recent dinner party behavior. But Edgar Churchill had not been drunk.
She looked toward Darcy and Mr. Knightley to see whether they shared her thoughts. The magistrate was already standing.
“Where is Frank Churchill now?”
“I am persuaded that you can be as insincere as your neighbours, when it is necessary.”
Frank Churchill’s status as the favorite of fortune endured: unlike his uncle, he survived belladonna poisoning.
He owed to his stepmother his continuance as an inhabitant of this world. Mrs. Weston, though as embarrassed as her husband by Frank’s behavior, possessed that intuition peculiar to mothers that prompts them to seek medical counsel under circumstances in which others underrate the severity of signs. Such was the case on this occasion, and upon their hasty departure from the vicarage, she had insisted not merely that Mr. Perry be consulted, but consulted before they returned to Randalls.
By luck or by grace, they had found the apothecary at home. Mr. Perry had immediately recognized Frank Churchill’s danger and administered a mustard emetic, followed by a purgative to eliminate as much of the poison as possible from his system. Since Frank’s symptoms were fewer and less pronounced than Edgar’s had been, Mr. Perry was of the opinion that he had taken in a smaller amount of belladonna than had his uncle. The treatment was successful; Mr. Perry predicted a full recovery.
How Frank came to ingest the toxin was a subject that occupied the Knightleys and Darcys long after the victim himself had improved. After hearing the apothecary’s report, Mr. Knightley and Mr. Darcy spent the following afternoon interviewing those who had been present at the Eltons’ dinner. The Westons and Jane, Mr. Perry had spoken to the night before while treating Frank; the Patrick Dixons he questioned when he transferred his patient to Randalls after breakfast. In the interest of expediency, Mr. Knightley and Mr. Darcy divided the remaining calls and agreed to meet Mr. Perry later at Randalls, where the apothecary monitored his patient. Together they would quiz Frank Churchill more thoroughly than Mr. Perry had been able to while his patient suffered agitation and confusion.
The interviews yielded nothing valuable. No one had observed anything irregular regarding Frank Churchill during dinner, save symptoms they had ascribed to intoxication. The Eltons’ discourse on the subject was all self- interest; Frank’s brush with death was nothing to the insult they believed themselves to have suffered by his behavior. To protect their ability to investigate effectively, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Knightley did not contradict anyone’s assumption that drink had been the sole cause of Frank’s indisposition.
“I pray we learn something useful from Frank Churchill himself,” Mr. Knightley said as he and Emma walked to Randalls with the Darcys. Emma wanted to check on Frank Churchill as much as the gentlemen wanted to interrogate him, and Mrs. Darcy had said she would welcome the exercise. Emma feared that Mrs. Darcy also sought respite from her father’s concern for her health. Though Mrs. Darcy appeared to find Mr. Woodhouse’s crotchets more amusing than vexing, she had already submitted to one basin of gruel that day and ought not be subjected to another, however kindly intended.
“With our chief suspect now a victim, we need to learn something soon,” Mr. Darcy replied, “before the poisoner eliminates all of the Churchills.”
“I am glad the pair of you have finally realized that the idea of Frank Churchill’s having killed his uncle is ludicrous,” Emma said, “though I am sorry it required his own life becoming endangered. Do you believe Jane Churchill is also at risk?”
The path through the shrubbery became uneven, and Mr. Knightley offered Emma his arm. “That depends upon the murderer’s motive,” he said. “If he is driven by revenge, the perceived wrong might or might not encompass her, as she but very recently joined the family. If the killer seeks more worldly gain, however, I expect she may indeed be threatened. We need to learn who stands to benefit from Frank Churchill’s death.”
