Page 35 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

“But clearly you think the two incidents might be connected. But how?”

“What if William Cox was attracted to Prudence? And in his inebriated state he tried to act on it, and she rebuffed him? I’m sure that sort of awful behavior happens to female servants more than we know.”

George looked momentarily startled. “True, and if I ever heard of such a thing at Donwell I would immediately put a stop to it.”

“Of course you would. But you’d have tohearabout it first.”

He fell silent. Emma patiently waited, letting him sift through the implications.

“All right,” he finally said. “Let’s say that William importuned Prudence and she rejected him. Then what?”

“It would stand to reason that an inebriated William could be angry enough that he might have followed Prudence up to her room to … to try to importune her again.”

“That is a grim thought, my dear.”

“Yes, it turns one’s stomach,” she quietly replied.

He briefly cupped her cheek. “I understand. Are you also suggesting it was he who took the sherry decanter up with him?”

“He was certainly in a condition to do something that stupid. Perhaps he thought to ply her with drink, but Prudence rebuffed him again.” She hesitated for a moment. “There might even have been a struggle, which led to … her fall.”

George blinked, clearly startled. “Are you suggesting he murdered her?”

She wavered. “Well … no. An accident, I think, not deliberate.”

“Yet, if you recall, there were no signs of struggle. And Mrs. Hodges confirmed that nothing was out of place.”

“Perhaps he took the time to straighten the room. Of course he would wish to hide any sign of a struggle.”

George’s expression was openly skeptical. “That kind of cool, calculated action would seem remarkable in a man so thoroughly drunk. And why would he leave the decanter and wineglass in her room if he was determined to clean it up?”

Ah, she had him on that one. “He wished it to seem that she’d been drinking, to reinforce the appearance that it was an accident of her own making.”

“If William were sober, I might be inclined to agree with you. I find it difficult, however, to believe that a heavily intoxicated man would likely act with such forethought.” He tilted an eyebrow at her. “Especially so foolish a young man as William.”

And he had her on that one. “Well … I don’t think he went up there with the goal of murdering her.”

“All right, but if she was drinking with him, where was the other glass?”

“Obviously he took that one down with him.”

“Perhaps. But you’ll recall that I sent Harry up to secure Prudence’s room almost on the heels of the discovery of her body. I doubt there was enough time for William—or anyone else—to clean up signs of what likely would have been a desperate struggle.”

Emma blew out a frustrated sigh. Her husband was making perfect sense, but some deep instinct rebelled against the too-neat conclusion that Prudence was responsible for her own death.

George took her hands in a comforting grip. “I think we must accept the coroner’s verdict that it was simply an exceedingly tragic accident. Let us be thankful, at least, that he ruled it such instead of a suicide.”

“I am, but everyone who knew Prudence confirmed her distaste for spirits as well as her loyalty to Donwell. Why then would a dutiful servant like her essentially steal an expensive crystal decanter and take it up to her room? To drink away some vague sorrows?” She shook her head. “Given everything we know of her, it makes no sense.”

George ruffled a hand through his hair, suddenly looking quite tired. It had been a difficult day for him, and this would be the last thing he would wish to talk about.

“I’m sorry, dearest,” she said ruefully. “I shouldn’t be pestering you with my theories. I have to accept that Prudence’s death was most likely an accident. It certainly appears so on the basis of the evidence.”

Still …

She remained convinced that both Mrs. Hodges and Harry were hiding something about Prudence. Perhaps something that might cast her in a bad light? In their own way, were they trying to protect the girl of whom they were clearly so fond?

“Emma, what is it?” George asked.