Page 14 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

“Er … would you like another, Mrs. Bates?” she asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Knightley.”

“Mother!” Miss Bates exclaimed. “Do you think that’s wise?”

Mrs. Bates narrowed her rheumy eyes behind her spectacles. “There’s no need to fuss, Hetty. I am perfectly capable of holding my drink. And tonight’s events certainly warrant a bit of Dutch courage.”

“Goodness me,” said Father. “I am in awe of your fortitude.”

“Mr. Woodhouse, to still be alive at my age requires a good deal of fortitude.”

Emma had to bite back a smile as she went to refill the lady’s glass.

As she did so, the door opened and Harry, Donwell’s lone footman, entered the room.

“Did you ring, Mrs. Knightley?” he asked. “It’s so noisy in the kitchen that we wasn’t sure we actually heard a ring. But Mrs. Hodges insisted I come up and check.”

“Yes. Harry, I need you to find Mr. Knightley and bring him to the library. Immediately.”

The footman peered at her with his usual befuddled expression. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Knightley?”

Outwardly, Harry was the perfect footman. He was tall and well built, possessing a fine head of hair and handsome features. Unfortunately, he did not appear to be the sharpest pin in the pincushion.

“No, young man, everything isnotall right,” Emma’s father huffed. “In fact, there’s been—”

Miss Bates jumped to her feet. “Dear Mr. Woodhouse, let me fetch you another sherry. It will be just the thing.”

Harry looked utterly confused. “Mrs. Knightley?”

“It’s fine,” said Emma. “Just go find Mr. Knightley and tell him that there’s been a … small incident. And don’t speak to anyone else.”

“Yes, Mrs. Knightley, right away.”

He hurried out.

Emma eyed the drinks trolley, but then decided against a medicinal brandy. Someone needed to keep a clear head.

“Here is your sherry, Mr. Woodhouse,” Miss Bates said. “It’s all very upsetting, but Mr. Knightley will know exactly what to do. He’s a very fine magistrate, you know.”

Emma mustered a smile. “That’s right. George will take care of everything.”

“I hope so,” Father plaintively said. “To sit here in such dreadful circumstances is intolerable. I wonder if we will ever get home.”

Thankfully, the door opened in the next moment and George strode in.

Emma hurried to him. “Thank goodness. I thought Harry would have to search the house for you.”

“I was already on my way to the library to see you when he waylaid me. He said there had been some kind of incident.”

“A terrible incident!” Father exclaimed. “Too terrible for words.”

George cast him a startled glance. “What’s happened?”

Emma took him by the hand and began to draw him toward the terrace doors.

“My dear, your fingers are ice-cold,” he said with a frown.

“It’s no matter. There’s been a dreadful accident outside.”