Page 2 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

Emma sighed. As sweet-tempered as her father was, he had a stubborn streak. It usually manifested in harmless ways, such as his strict admonitions against cake or his never-ending battle against drafts. But experience had taught her that when Father made up his mind, it was all but impossible to change it.

She mustered a smile that likely looked more like a grimace. “I know how her friendship has been a comfort to you.”

He nodded. “Especially in this year past, when life has been so fraught.”

This was an obvious reference to the murder of Mrs. Elton, one of Highbury’s leading citizens. Both Miss Bates and Father had been greatly affected by that dreadful event, and it had drawn them even closer together.

If the poor woman hadn’t come to such an unfortunate end, Emma could almost be cross with Mrs. Elton for having set in motion this domestic cataclysm that was erupting at Hartfield months later.

“And you and George are always so busy—you with Hartfield and your charitable work, and George with Donwell Abbey,” her father added. “But now I will have Miss Bates to keep me company. She will also be a great aid to you in managing Hartfield. Miss Bates is a fine housekeeper in her own right, and can relieve you of much of that burden.”

The notion of Miss Bates taking over the management of Hartfield was so ghastly that Emma was again stunned into silence.

John snorted. “Miss Bates managing Hartfield? That’s the most—”

“I’m sure Miss Bates is more than up to the task,” George firmly cut in. “Especially with Emma’s help.” He cast her a mildly challenging glance. “Is that not so, my dear?”

“Er, yes. Of course,” she managed. “If Father isreallysure about this.”

“I am,” Father replied with quiet dignity.

George nodded. “Then please accept my congratulations, sir. We’re very happy for you.”

Emma bit back a sigh. Once George gave his approval, there was no point in prolonging the battle.

She dredged up a smile and rose. “Of course we want you to be happy, dearest. If Miss Bates makes you happy, then I am pleased for you.”

“I’m not,” muttered John.

Emma bent down to give her father a hug. Isabella pulled a slight grimace, but did the same.

“Ridiculous,” John groused.

Emma ignored her dratted brother-in-law as she and Isabella resumed their seats. One frequently had to ignore John’s outbursts.

“Have you and Miss Bates decided on a date?” George asked.

“No,” her father replied. “We must think of Jane and Frank. They must travel a great distance for the wedding, and one would not wish them to do so at such an inclement time of year. Jane is still recovering from her lying-in.”

Good Lord, Jane and Frank!

Emma had not even thought of how the Churchills might react to this unsettling news.

Jane, formerly Jane Fairfax, was the granddaughter of Mrs. Bates and the niece of Miss Bates. Orphaned at an early age, she had been lovingly cared for by the two of them. Jane had eventually gone to live with a school friend whose well-to-do parents had raised her as a second daughter. When she finally returned to Highbury, her intention had been to find a position as a governess. Before that unpleasant prospect had come to fruition, she’d fallen in love with the wealthy Frank Churchill and he with her. They were married a few months before Emma and George, and now resided on the Churchill family estate in Yorkshire.

“Do Jane and Frank know about your plans?” she asked.

Father shook his silver-haired head. “Miss Bates intends to send an express post to Jane first thing in the morning.”

“Then I take it the Westons aren’t privy to the news, either,” said George.

Frank was Mr. Weston’s son by his first wife. Unable to care for his little boy after his wife died, Mr. Weston had made the difficult decision to allow Frank to be adopted and raised by her wealthy relatives, the Churchills. Frank and Mr. Weston, however, now enjoyed an excellent filial relationship.

“Not yet.” Father smiled at Emma. “I was hoping you could tell the Westons the happy news, my dear. I thought you would enjoy doing so. Perhaps first thing in the morning?”

John let out a snort, while George actually had to smother a laugh.

After casting her husband a warning glare, Emma nodded at her father. “Of course.”