Page 148 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

“Mrs. Knightley, are you sure you wish to do this? Might it not be better to try to get help?”

Emma reached back in to retrieve a cartridge, rather amazed that her hands were so steady. Thank goodness, because shaky hands and lethal weapons made for a decidedly poor outcome.

As she loaded the cartridge she couldn’t hold back a little snort. “I think you really mean to ask if I can fire this thing.”

Mrs. Hodges grimaced. “That too.”

“You can be assured that I can.”

While it had been some years, no need to alarm the poor woman any further.

As they were leaving the butler’s pantry, Henry came running toward them from the front of the house. Emma’s heart sank when she saw he was alone.

“Harry isn’t in his room,” he breathlessly announced. “And his bed hasn’t been slept in, either.”

Not good. Not good at all.

Mrs. Hodges huffed. “The oaf was probably drinking with the grooms and feel asleep.”

A phantom thought began to coalesce in Emma’s brain. It was not a happy one, and she devoutly hoped it wasn’t true.

If it were, though, it would clarify some of the more troubling questions that had bedeviled them about the smuggling problem.

“I don’t think that’s what happened,” she said.

Mrs. Hodges shook her head. “Why not?”

Emma bent down to meet her nephew eye to eye. Shehatedwhat she had to do next, but if what she suspected was true, she needed to get Henry away from the abbey. Who knew what those men were capable of?

“Henry, I need your help,” she said, “and it’s not going to be easy. If it’s too much, you must tell me so.”

He returned her gaze, as grave as a judge. “I can do whatever it is, Auntie Emma.”

“I need you to dress in your warmest clothes and then run to Randalls and fetch help from Mr. Weston. Can you do that?”

Mrs. Hodges gasped, but Henry never even blinked.

“But I’d rather stay here with you,” he said. “I can help protect you.”

“I know you would. But, Henry, something has obviously happened to the grooms and our coachmen, and we need more help as soon as possible. You must tell Mr. Weston what’s happening. He’ll know exactly what to do.”

With the exception of Mrs. Goddard’s school—and Emma doubted the schoolmistress would be of much assistance in facing down smugglers—Randalls was the closest house. It made perfect sense to send Henry there for help, and it would get him safely out of the way.

Emma straightened. “You can run faster than any of us, Henry. Can you do this for me?”

His chin went up in a determined tilt. “Yes.”

“Good boy. Go out through the front door and down the main drive. But don’t take the path. Go by Donwell Road and then onto Randalls Road.”

While cutting across the side lawns and crossing the Langham Path would be quicker, she couldn’t risk him running into the smugglers.

He nodded. “I understand.”

She ruffled his hair. “Off with you, then.”

He flashed her a cheeky grin before pelting off toward the front hall.

Emma drew in a quavering breath, praying that she’d made the right decision. Her conviction was steadily growing that help would be needed before the night was out.