Page 33 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

Emma’s heart wrung with pity. “What a terrible burden to carry.” She hesitated. “I do hope he wasn’t angry with you.”

“One of the brothers was inclined to be angry with me. But when I tried to apologize, Mr. Parr would hear none of that.” George put his teacup on the table. “He’s a remarkably charitable man. In fact, he was inclined to apologize tomefor bringing such trouble onto my household. Naturally, I told him that such was not the case, and that Prudence was greatly esteemed by everyone who worked at Donwell.”

Emma propped her chin on the back of her hands, frowning absently at the fire. “I can’t help wondering why Prudence wished to take employment in service. Mrs. Hodges told me that the Parrs’ blacksmithing business does quite well. It employs her brothers too, does it not?”

“It does, and it seems prosperous. Leatherhead is large enough to support more than one smithy.”

“It’s a very respectable sort of business, too. One would think there would be a number of eligible tradesmen in Leatherhead who would be happy to court a pretty girl from a good family.”

“That was apparently the very reason her brothers wished her to remain at home.”

Emma toed off her slippers and pulled her feet up onto the sofa, getting comfortable. George snagged a lap blanket from the chair next to them and draped it over her legs.

“We cannot have you catching a chill,” he wryly said. “You father would never allow you to leave Hartfield again.”

“A fate worse than death, once he marries Miss Bates.”

“Now, Emma,” he gently chided.

“I apologize, dearest. So, Prudence’s brothers wished her to remain in Leatherhead, but her father allowed her to come to Donwell. Because he saw it as a good opportunity?”

“According to Mr. Parr, Prudence had ambitions to be a lady’s maid. She found Leatherhead stifling—that was the word he used.She wished to find employment in a large household in London at some point.”

“Then she certainly chose the wrong village. Leatherhead is a bustling metropolis compared with Highbury, and we never go anywhere.”

“This position was a compromise. Her father allowed her to start at Donwell precisely because it is so quiet and because the distance from home was not great.” He paused for a moment, glancing down at his hands. “Mr. Parr thought she would be safe in Highbury.”

Emma pressed a hand to his knee. “I’m so sorry, George. But none of this is your fault. I suppose all we can do now is help her family as best we can. Did you mean with the funeral arrangements?”

“The Parrs are well able to manage that. In fact, they were quite offended when I offered. The funeral is the day after tomorrow, by the way. I will, of course, be attending.”

“Another unhappy day for you, I’m afraid. Perhaps Larkins can accompany you.”

“Any of the staff who wish to go are certainly welcome to do so.”

“Then if we cannot help them with the funeral arrangements, how do we assist them?”

When he hesitated, Emma knew that he was about to pick his words very carefully.

“The Parrs have questions,” he replied. “Unfortunately, at this point they seem impossible to answer.”

“What sort of questions?”

He gave her a knowing look. “The same ones you had—and still have, I imagine.”

“Ah. Such as, was she drinking spirits when she apparently never touched them. And how she managed to fall out the window.”

“Correct. Mr. Parr was adamant that his daughter never drank spirits. Moreover, he and her brothers agreed that she would never jeopardize her employment by essentially stealing a decanter of expensive sherry.”

Emma nodded. “Our staff would agree.”

“Which raises the question as to how the decanter got to her room. Did you also tell him that something seemed to be troubling the girl?”

George rose and wandered over to the fireplace, where he stared intently into the flames before turning and propping a shoulder against the mantelpiece. “I did. But we must not forget she also complained of the headache, which might also explain her distress.”

“I’m inclined to think that such wasnotthe case. From what Mrs. Hodges and Harry said—and from what I observed myself—it’s much more likely that some external situation disturbed her.”

“It’s true that one generally doesn’t drink spirits to cure a headache. The opposite result is likely to occur.”