Page 23 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

“Thank you. Mr. Larkins, will you see to the other arrangements?” Emma asked.

He nodded. “I’ll go into the village first thing in the morning, ma’am.”

It would be necessary to commission a carpenter in Highbury to build a coffin. Emma wasn’t quite sure what would happen after that. Presumably, George was already thinking through next steps.

“Mrs. Hodges, where do Prudence’s family live?” she asked.

“Leatherhead, ma’am. Her father and brothers are blacksmiths.”

Larkins breathed out a fractured sigh. “They’ll be that torn apart, Mrs. Hodges.”

The housekeeper made an effort to compose herself. “We have to bear up for their sake and take care of the poor girl.”

In other words, mourning would have to wait. Any death, even a tragic one, demanded a number of practical details. Emotions must be held at bay until those details were addressed.

The men reentered the room, bringing a blast of cold air with them. George’s expression lightened with relief as he spotted his estate steward.

Larkins stepped forward. “Begging your pardon, sir. I should have been here.”

“There is no fault on your part, nor anyone else’s,” George replied.

“We’ll see about that,” Constable Sharpe muttered.

Larkins shot him a startled look, and some of the color drained from the steward’s face. Given his red hair and ruddy complexion, it was quite noticeable.

Then he gathered himself. “What do you need from me now, Mr. Knightley?”

“You may take Prudence up to …” George looked at Emma.

“The green bedroom. Mrs. Hodges has prepared it.”

George nodded before turning to Emma’s father and Miss Bates. “While outside, I took it upon myself to explain to Dr. Hughes and Constable Sharpe what you both heard and saw. Dr. Hughes is of the opinion that you needn’t stay any longer, as it has been such a long night.”

“Perry said as much at least a half hour ago,” Father replied in a lofty tone. “It’s a great shame we didn’t listen to him.”

When the coroner startled to bristle, Emma hastily stepped in. “Thank you, Dr. Hughes. That’s so kind. I’m sure James is already here to take my father and Miss Bates home.”

“He is,” said Mrs. Hodges. “The carriage is out front, so whenever Mr. Woodhouse is ready.”

“Emma, we must not keep the horses standing about,” her father exclaimed with alarm. “It is very bad for them.”

“The horses will be fine, dear.” She glanced at her husband. “George, is there anything you need?”

He shook his head. “I’m about to take Dr. Hughes and the constable up to servants’ quarters.”

“Very well. Once Father and Miss Bates are safely off, I’ll join you upstairs.”

Constable Sharpe scowled at her, no doubt wishing her to perdition, but Emma ignored him. After all, Donwell was her house as well, and shehadbeen at the scene of the accident immediately after its occurrence.

Keeping up a soothing patter of reassurance, Emma bustled her father and Miss Bates from the room. She managed to get them to the great hall and garbed in coats, hats, shawls, and gloves without too much fuss. Simon, Hartfield’s senior footman, had accompanied James back to Donwell and solicitously handed the pair into the carriage. After Emma gave him a few additional instructions, they were finally off.

She stood outside for a few moments, watching the carriage lights fade into the night. The chilly air was invigorating and a bracing antidote to her growing fatigue.

“Thank you, Donny,” she said to the stable boy, serving as doorman. “I’m sorry you’ve been kept up so late. I know it’s been a difficult evening.”

Servants were thin on the ground at the moment. They’d all been rushing to and fro, dealing with both Prudence’s death and the aftermath of the party.

The lad grimaced. “Poor Miss Prudence was a regular goer. Right bobbish she was, with everyone. Can’t believe she’s really gone.”