Page 30 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

The boy shrugged. “How else am I supposed to find things out? It’s not like adults will tell you anything.”

Isabella looked perturbed. “Little boys are not to know such things. From now on, you’re not to eavesdrop on adult conversations, Henry.”

“Yes, Mamma,” he politely replied.

When Emma lifted her eyebrows at him, Henry fought back a grin. He had no intention of obeying his mother’s directive. Emma knew it, and he knew she knew it.

Repressing an answering smile, she addressed her sister instead. “Isabella, I understand you wish to depart for London, but there’s no need to rush off. Father and I should be happy for you to stay.”

Isabella shook her head. “You and George will be so busy these next days, I’m sure. I don’t want to add to the commotion. It’s not good for Father.”

“As to that—”

The door opened and their father entered, wearing a colorful banyan and a cap on his head for extra warmth.

Emma jumped up to greet him. “Good morning, Father. I hope you were able to get some sleep.”

“Some, my dear,” he replied as she helped him to his seat. “I promised Miss Bates I wouldn’t lie awake fretting about that poor girl, but I woke up quite early and couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Emma patted his shoulder. “I know, dear. It was very distressing.”

He sighed. “I do hope we won’t have a repeat of the awful events of last summer when Mrs. Elton died. I don’t think I could bear it.”

“I wish I’d been here last summer,” Henry stoutly said. “I could have helped Auntie Emma and Uncle George catch the killer.”

Isabella gasped. “Henry Knightley, how could you wish for such a thing? It gives me palpitations just to think of it.”

“Dear boy, you mustn’t give your mother palpitations,” Father exclaimed. “Palpitations are very bad for one’s health.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied in the long-suffering tone of a child well used to the anxieties of his fretful relatives.

Fortunately, Simon entered with a dish of coddled eggs and the gruel, providing a timely diversion.

“Here’s your breakfast, Father,” Emma said in a bright tone. “Serle’s eggs will set you up splendidly.”

Her father morosely eyed his plate. “Perhaps I should have gruel, just in case. What do you think our dear Perry would suggest after such a harrowing evening?”

Emma resumed her seat and poured herself another cup of coffee. “Mr. Perry is firmly of the belief that none of us will suffer any lasting harm from last night’s events. But I can send round a note asking him to stop by later, if that would ease your mind.”

Father smiled. “That would be a great relief.”

“Of course. Then we may all rest easy.”

“Except for George,” he replied. “Riding all the way to Leatherhead in this cold. I do not approve, Emma. That constable person should have gone to inform the unfortunate girl’s family of her demise.”

“It was more appropriate for George to go, Father. To help with the necessary arrangements.”

Isabella pushed aside her bowl of untouched gruel. “Then the sooner we can be off, the better. The children and I will only be in your way.”

Father stared at her, aghast. “Goodness, Isabella, I felt sure that you would stay for at least another week. Emma will need you.”

“I only promised to stay for the party, Father. Besides, John will be missing the children.”

“But John gets to see the children all the time,” he plaintively replied. “And you.”

It was a fact that John and Isabella could barely stand to be separated for more than a day. But he would simply have to survive another week without his family. Right now, Isabella was necessary for their father’s comfort.

“Isabella, it would be a great help to me if you stayed,” Emma coaxed.