Page 20 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

“We will do our best—”

“And who might you be?” Constable Sharpe abruptly interrupted.

Isabella blinked, but Mrs. Bates glared at him, her expression conveying the desire to brain him with her walking stick.

“This is my sister, Constable Sharpe,” Emma said. “Mrs. John Knightley. She has been staying with us at Hartfield.”

“Why is she leaving? I might need to take a witness statement from her.”

“My sister was not in the library when the incident occurred,” Emma said in a cool tone. “Mrs. Bates was asleep. She heard nothing and saw nothing.”

“Still, they ought to—”

Dr. Hughes held up an imperious hand. “If Mrs. Knightley says there is no need to detain the ladies, I am satisfied. This waiting about cannot be good for Mrs. Bates.”

Mrs. Bates gave a dignified nod. “Thank you, Dr. Hughes. This has been a particularly difficult evening for my daughter, as well.”

Sharpe registered a degree of alarm. “What does Miss Bates have to do with this?”

Might as well get it over with.

“Miss Bates discovered the body,” Emma said.

Dr. Hughes stared at her over his too-small spectacles. Perched halfway down his nose, they gave him the appearance of a perpetually surprised, albeit large, insect.

“Miss Bates discovered the body?” he asked with a degree foreboding.

His tone was understandable. Miss Bates had been one of several witnesses Dr. Hughes had questioned in the course of Mrs. Elton’s murder investigation last summer. It had been a frustrating experience for both of them.

“Yes, although my father was also in the room with her.”

When the constable muttered under his breath, Emma repressed a sigh. Father had developed an unfortunate animosity toward both Constable Sharpe and Dr. Hughes, and had never hesitated to make his opinion known. That had led to several awkward encounters last summer, and it looked like they were due for a few more.

Isabella made an impatient noise. “Emma, I must see Mrs. Bates home and get back to the children. It’s growing late.”

Emma nodded. “Once James has taken you both home, send him back for Father and Miss Bates.”

“Promise you’ll send Father home as soon as possible.”

“I promise.”

After exchanging a glower with Constable Sharpe, Isabella ushered Mrs. Bates toward the great hall.

After having a short word with Mrs. Hodges, Emma gestured for the men to follow her to the library.

“I’ve asked Mrs. Hodges to bring up tea, which I hope will make you more comfortable,” Emma said. “It’s quite dreadful to be dragged out into the cold night.”

Dr. Hughes nodded, his temper somewhat restored. “Your graciousness is greatly appreciated, madam. But as I witnessed earlier this evening, you are a most accomplished hostess. For your sake, I sincerely regret that such a convivial affair has ended on so unfortunate a note.”

“Yes. Very unfortunate.”

“Crime never sleeps, Mrs. Knightley,” the constable interjected. “It cares not for a party or the weather, as experience has taught me over the years.”

Emma tried not to clench her teeth. “There’s no evidence of a crime, sir.”

“No evidence, yet,” he retorted.

Praying for patience, she ushered the men into the library— just in time to see George and Mr. Perry coming in from the terrace.