Page 103 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

“The poor men,” Mrs. Weston replied in a sympathetic tone. “And in this dreadful weather, too.”

George, who’d been at the front of the room with Dr. Hughes, strode down the aisle to meet the Parrs. Naturally, all heads turned to look at the victim’s family, some even standing up to do so. Murmurs rippled through the room, following Mr. Parr and his sons as they moved up front.

The group paused by Emma’s chair.

“My dear,” said George. “Allow me to introduce Mr. Parr and his sons, David and Marcus.”

She rose and extended her hand. “Sirs, please accept my condolences on your great loss. We are so grieved for you.”

Mr. Parr’s hand, rough from his smithing work, engulfed hers. “That’s kind of you, ma’am. We’re ever so grateful to you and Mr. Knightley for taking care of our girl. She loved working at Donwell, and—”

He broke off, his features distorting with grief.

David placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Pa. You don’t need to say anything else.”

Mr. Parr cleared his throat as he released Emma’s hand. “Apologies, Mrs. Knightley. I can hardly believe my Prudence is gone. It’s not right. She should be here with us.”

“There is certainly no need to apologize,” Emma said. “What happened to your daughter is an utter tragedy.”

His grief-stricken expression suddenly turned hard. “It is at that, and I intend that my girl gets justice.”

A loud throat-clearing from the dais drew their attention to Dr. Hughes, his usual pompous self. “I believe we are now ready to reconvene. If the witnesses will take their seats, the jury can be recalled.”

In quick order, the Parrs were seated at the end of the first row as the jury filed in.

“I now call Mr. Parr, father of Miss Prudence Parr, to the stand,” announced Dr. Hughes.

Murmurs of sympathy rose as Mr. Parr took a seat next to the coroner’s desk.

Dr. Hughes stood before him. “Sir, if you will please state your full name and your relationship to the victim for the records.”

The first few minutes of Mr. Parr’s testimony were mostly comprised of mundane details, as well as a brief history as to how Prudence came to work at Donwell. Mr. Parr was also asked to give a description of Prudence’s character and temperament. As one would expect, it was glowing. It was also, as far as Emma knew, accurate. That everyone at Donwell thought highly of Prudence was a fact already established.

“When was the last time you saw your daughter?” asked Dr. Hughes.

“It was about three weeks before—” The man clamped his lips shut, as if emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

“Take your time, sir,” the coroner said with more kindness than his usual wont.

Mr. Parr struggled for control. “It was about three weeks before her death. Prudence always came home once a month on her day off.” He managed a wobbly smile. “She was a good girl that way. Never forgot her family.”

More sympathetic murmurings swelled like a gentle chorus. Emma mentally grimaced. Although she felt tremendous compassion for the Parrs, the father’s emotional testimony boded ill for Larkins. The portrait being drawn of Prudence was that of a sweet, kind girl who was an innocent victim of a heinous crime. The people would want justice—or vengeance, and Larkins would make a convenient target.

“On her last visit, how did Miss Parr seem?” the coroner asked. “Was she concerned about anything? Did she refer to anything that might be troubling her?”

“I could tell something was bothering her. Not like herself, she was. Prudence was very quiet-like that visit. My boys noticed it, too.”

Emma glanced down the row to see the Parr brothers grimly nodding agreement.

Dr. Hughes looked grave. “Did you ask your daughter what troubled her?”

“I did, sir. At first, she tried to brush off my questions. When I wouldn’t let it go, she finally said that she was a bit worried about something but was sure it would sort itself out.”

“So, she didn’t say specifically what the worry was about?”

Mr. Parr shook his head. “No. I asked her if anyone at the abbey was bothering her and she said no, and that it weren’t nothing to speak of. When I told her to go to Mr. Knightley about it anyway, she got all bothered and said she wouldn’t dream of worrying the master. Then she told me again that it would sort itself out in a few weeks.”

Now seated next to her, George exhaled a quiet sigh. Emma placed a hand on his knee, knowing that he still felt that he’d failed the girl.