Page 12 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

“Good God!” she gasped.

The gruesome image swam before her eyes in a wave of vertigo. Emma felt herself sway, sending the lamplight wildly flickering.

“Mrs. Knightley,” the spinster cried. “Are you all right?”

Emma forced past the nauseating wave. “Yes.”

She took a few steps forward and held out the lamp so as to illuminate the entire body. A sickening sorrow tightened her chest.

“She is dead, isn’t she?” whispered Miss Bates.

“There can be no doubt of that.”

The unnatural attitude of the limbs, the pool of blood spreading outward from beneath the head … there was no need to feel for a pulse to recognize that the poor girl had expired.

“It is Prudence, isn’t it?” asked Miss Bates. “The maid.”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“But we saw her only two hours ago! She brought us supper and was so terribly sweet. You should have seen her with Mother, Mrs. Knightley. Prudence was so good with her. How could this possibly be?”

Emma stepped back a few paces and looked upward, already quite sure of what she would see—an open casement window on the top floor of the abbey, light faintly issuing forth. While that floor housed the servants’ quarters, how in heaven’s name could Prudence manage to fall out the window? Indeed, why was the window even open on such a cold night?

On that thought, a shiver racked through her, as the immediate shock of seeing the body began to fade. She glanced over at Miss Bates, whose shoulders were drawn up around her ears, her thick shawl wrapped tightly around her body. The poor woman looked frozen and miserable.

Emma put a hand on her shoulder. “Come, we must go back inside before you freeze to death.”

Miss Bates startled under her touch. “Oh, yes, whatever you say, Mrs. Knightley. But shouldn’t we do something about the body… .” She swallowed. “Cover her with something? It’s so dreadfully cold out here.”

“The cold won’t bother her now.”

When the other woman’s gaze leapt to hers, Emma winced. What adreadfullyinappropriate thing to say. Perhaps the night air was freezing her brain.

She took Miss Bates and guided her back to the open doors. “We must leave the body exactly as is until Mr. Knightley has viewed it. And Dr. Hughes as well, I imagine.”

Emma closed the doors firmly behind them. No need to keep them open, at this point.

“I’m the one who discovered the body,” the spinster said in a miserable tone. “I don’t think Dr. Hughes will be very pleased with me.”

“I’m sure he won’t give it a second thought.”

He will absolutely give it a second thought.

In last summer’s investigation into Mrs. Elton’s death, Miss Bates had inadvertently locked horns with Highbury’s coroner on more than one occasion. Then again, Emma had also locked horns with him, deliberately so. It was likely that Dr. Hughes would be more annoyed to see Emma than Miss Bates.

At least it’s not murder.

Prudence had somehow tragically fallen to her death from the top floor of the abbey.

“Miss Bates, how did you come to discover the body?”

“Because I heard a tremendous thud coming from the terrace. We were all sitting by the fire, having a comfortable chat, although Mother had dozed off, I think. We were talking about Jane and Frank, and wondering when they might be able to come to Highbury. The baby, you know, and Jane’s health.” She frowned. “Yes, Mother had definitely dozed off, so it was just Mr. Woodhouse and I who were chatting then.”

Miss Bates had a tendency to rattle on when she was, well, rattled. Emma had learned that trying to hurry her rarely achieved the desired results.

“So you were all sitting by the fire. What happened next?”

“Forgive me, Mrs. Knightley. As I said, your father and I were chatting. Your sister had left us several minutes before… .” She seized Emma’s arm. “Thank goodness she was not in the room! I’m so grateful she was spared this terrible shock.”