Page 134 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

Harriet squeaked again, obviously appalled by that observation.

“Dick, can you think of anything else that might be of note?” asked Emma.

He shook his head. “Sorry, missus. I wish I could.”

She rose. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve been incredibly helpful. Would you mind if I relayed this information to my husband?”

Dick smiled. “You do whatever you think best, Mrs. Knightley. You and your husband are top of the trees for me.”

Emma couldn’t hold back a grin. “Thank you.”

Mr. Mitchell helped Harriet up and escorted them outside, with Dick following.

Emma stopped in the drive. “Would you do me the favor of keeping our discussion private for now? I don’t want to start any harmful rumors about …”

“About Mr. Barlowe.” The farmer nodded. “Never fear, ma’am. Dick and I know how to keep our mouths shut.”

“Thank you. I’m very grateful to both of you.”

“Goodness,” exclaimed Harriet as she and Emma walked down the drive. “I can hardly believe that someone as mild as Mr. Barlowe could be involved in anything so dangerous. I certainly can’t imagine him threatening anyone.”

“I suppose not,” Emma replied.

Still, she would bet a bob that the vicar was involved somehow. There were simply too many coincidences starting to build up.

Could he also be guilty of murder, callously pushing Prudence to her death? Emma thought not. But what if he’d had an accomplice, someone who—according to Dick—might be a local man, as well? Could that mystery person be responsible for Prudence’s death?

Her instincts told her that she was finally on the right track. And if that was the case, Highbury might have more than smugglers lurking in its midst. It just might have a ruthless killer, as well.

CHAPTER25

Emma returned to Hartfield to find the front hall stacked with luggage. “Goodness, Simon. What is all this?”

The footman left off sorting the bags and came over to take her outerwear. “Mr. Knightley has just returned from London, ma’am.”

“And apparently brought half the city home with him.”

“Just Mrs. John Knightley and the children.”

Emma stared at him, astonished. “My sister is here?”

“Yes, ma’am. The children are upstairs in the nursery, and Mr. Woodhouse, Mr. Knightley, and Mrs. Knightley are in the drawing room.”

What could have brought Isabella back to Hartfield so soon?

She hurried down the hall and into the drawing room to find her loved ones seated in front of the fire, enjoying the contents of a large tea tray. George glanced up, smiled, and came to meet her. Since they’d parted with just atitchof irritation between them, stepping into his embrace felt like heaven.

“Are you well, my darling?” he murmured.

“Perfectly.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Is everything all right in Brunswick Square?”

“I think so.”

Emma reluctantly broke off the embrace and went to greet her sister. “Dearest, what a surprise.”

“I hope it’s a happy one,” said Isabella, returning her hug.

“Silly, of course it is. Father and I were talking just this morning about asking you to return to Hartfield.” She smiled. “It’s like an answer to a prayer.”