Posted on 2009-10-31

The duck pond near Abbey Mill Farm was relatively new, comparatively speaking. In the 18th century, a Mr Knightley with too much time on his hands and an odd preference for ducks had dug it out himself, something which occupied him for a good year and a half, and then populated it with ducks, in order to be able to spend the remainder of his days at its bank, observing the ducks. When he died several years later, the duck pond was forgotten again and fell into a state of disrepair, if one can speak of disrepair where a duck pond is concerned. The algae that the old Mr Knightley had taken care to get rid of if they grew too plentiful now covered the whole pond and its bank, once carefully planted with flowers and sporting a nice little bench, was now overgrown and slippery, the bench rotting away.

Hardly anybody ever came to the pond and few people actually knew about its existence. Even Jane Fairfax, who, after all, still considered herself a native of Highbury, had never learnt about its existence until she almost stumbled into it. Why she had come that way, she could not explain; angry and sick with herself, she had not taken great care where she was going, as long as it was away from Highbury, from her inquisitive aunt, from that two-faced, lying rake Frank Churchill and most of all, away from that complete cow Emma Woodhouse. How she could ever have trusted Frank, how she could ever have thought Emma a harmless nuisance, was beyond her; yesterday's excursion to Box Hill had clearly shown where his sympathies lay as well as who was responsible for his betrayal.

All delicious thoughts about revenge, however, were quickly wiped from her mind when she discovered just where exactly she was. Not only was the bank of the duck pond covered in muck and algae, posing a great danger, but, even more alarming, the duck pond itself had a very real, very dead body floating in it. Who it was, Jane could not tell, for he was floating prone in the water, but his wet, white shirt and his tan riding breeches showed him to be a man of considerable wealth. In the very same moment that Jane had registered this fact, she started to scream, for even though she was a very well-bred lady, it was not every day she stumbled upon a body.

Help was nearer than she thought. Only moments later, Robert Martin, of Abbey Mill Farm, who had been hacking wood nearby, came running towards her, fighting his way through the shrubberies till he was standing on the bank with her.

'Anything the matter, miss?' he asked. 'Is it a snake?'

'No, no, it's – it's him,' Jane said, pointing at the body.

'Oh,' Mr Martin said. 'I had an inkling this would happen. I warned him, but -'

'Who is he?' Jane asked.

'No idea,' Mr Martin said. 'From town, from the way he spoke. Said he was passing through on his way from Kent, and could I have a look after his horse while he took a dip in the pond. Said he'd happened to see the pond from his horse and felt like refreshing himself. I told him it was madness but he wouldn't listen. Said he had a perfectly good pond of his own and always dipped in that. I told him our pond was dangerous,what with all the algae, and the banks so slippery. I had been wondering where he was, mind you, when he didn't come back for his horse, but we're busy with the harvest and could use another one, and I didn't think he would mind if I borrowed it. So this is where he was these last two days. Aye, and he's starting to smell too.'

'But this is horrible!' Jane said. 'We must do something.'

'Aye, I suppose I'll have to get him out of the pond,' Mr Martin said slowly. 'I dare say no one else is likely to find him, and we wouldn't want the ducks to hurt themselves.'

'You mean no one ever comes here?' Jane asked. 'If I hadn't found him, his body would never have been found?'

She was not normally so cold-blooded, she told herself, but then, it is not every day a young lady finds a dead body, and besides, an idea, loosely connected with her previous thoughts, had begun to form in her mind.

'No, I suppose not,' Mr Martin said slowly. 'I suppose if one was looking for a place to dump a body near here, this would be one's best bet.'

He shot a nervous glance at Jane.

'Not that I've ever thought of doing that, naturally,' he quickly added. 'I think the heat is getting to me.'

'It is Mr Martin, isn't it?' Jane asked. 'Of Abbey Mill Farm.'

'That's right, miss,' Mr Martin said. 'Miss Fairfax, I presume?'

'Who were you thinking of killing and throwing into that pond?' Jane blurted out before she could stop herself.

Her question astonished herself even more than it did him. She had always made sure to be a perfectly well-behaved young lady, but the discovery of the floating corpse combined with her previous angry thoughts had messed up her composure more completely than she had thought possible.

'That complete cow E- ' Mr Martin began, then checked himself. 'Nobody. Excuse me, Miss Fairfax, the heat -'

'So it is true,' Jane said, surprising herself again, for she was not normally so gossipy. 'Miss Woodhouse did persuade Miss Smith out of agreeing to an engagement to you.'

'She had no business to interfere in my life!' Mr Martin exclaimed. 'What right did she have to meddle with my affairs?'

'She had no right to steal my fiancé either,' Jane said bitterly, 'nor to abuse my aunt to her heart's content. But she thinks just because she's high and mighty Emma Woodhouse, she -'

' - she can play with us like puppets and treat us like the scum in that pond,' Mr Martin finished the sentence for her. 'I suppose there wouldn't be many tears shed in Highbury if she were to end up like yon Mr Darcy, or whatever he said his name was.'

'I for one wouldn't shed a single tear,' Jane said.

'I suppose her family might be sorry,' Mr Martin said.

'They will get over it,' Jane said firmly.

'One would have to be very sly though,' Mr Martin said. 'She is known hereabouts, her disappearance would be noted.'

'One would have to abduct her from her house,' Jane said, 'and blame it on the poultry thieves.'

'It could be arranged, I suppose,' Mr Martin said slowly. 'If one knew where to go.'

'I have a plan of her house,' Jane said.

'I have a cart one could use for the transport.'

'I can bring rope.'

'It would have to be done at night though,' Mr Martin interjected.

'It will be dark by eleven,' Jane said.

'Right then,' Mr Martin said. 'I suppose I'd better dig a grave big enough for two then.'