Page 37 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

His eyes went almost as round as the plate. “No, thank you, madam. I mean, ma’am, I mean Mrs. Knightley. I’ll just stand here against the wall, if you don’t mind.”

He was no doubt shocked by her sudden appearance, wishing to have a cup of tea with the servants in the kitchen. Emma hoped that in treating them in such an informal manner they might be thrown slightly off-balance, and as a result be more forthcoming in sharing what they knew about Prudence.

Mrs. Hodges looked askance at Harry before returning her attention to Emma. “How can we help you, Mrs. Knightley?”

“I would like to discuss the necessary changes that will facilitate our permanent move back to Donwell Abbey,” she re plied.

Mrs. Hodges’s features eased into a smile. “Of course, ma’am. But wouldn’t you be more comfortable in the library?” Her glance slid sideways to Harry. “I’d be happy to bring the tea tray up there.”

“I want to discuss improvements to the kitchen as well, so it would make sense to stay here while we go over them.”

“I’m not sure how I could help with that, Mrs. Knightley,” Harry stated in a doubtful tone.

Emma hesitated. “Well … before we get to that, I’d like to discuss something else first.”

Mrs. Hodges stilled for a moment before breathing out a sigh. “I expect you mean Prudence. I thought you might have a few questions.”

Aha!

“So, my assumption the other night was correct,” replied Emma. “You didn’t wish to speak frankly in front of Dr. Hughes and Constable Sharpe.”

Harry grimaced. “Can you blame us, ma’am? That bottleheaded constable, saying them nasty things about our Prudence.”

“That’s enough, Harry,” Mrs. Hodges rapped out. “You’re not to be talking to the mistress in that way.”

Harry shuffled his feet. “Sorry, Mrs. Knightley. But that constable … well, he made me right angry saying those things.”

“We were all dismayed by Constable Sharpe’s unjust accusations, Harry. However,” Emma added, belatedly realizing that she shouldn’t criticize Highbury’s lawman in front of the servants. “Constable Sharpe was only doing his duty.”

“Not very well,” Mrs. Hodges muttered.

“Too right, Mrs. H,” Harry muttered back.

The housekeeper sighed. “Harry, how many times must I ask younotto call me Mrs. H?”

“Sorry, Mrs. H. I mean, Mrs. Hodges.”

Emma did her best to ignore the rather comical exchange. “Mrs. Hodges, where are the other kitchen staff?”

At this point, it wouldn’t be appropriate to discuss Prudence’s situation with the junior staff.

“I sent Molly and Leahoff to the market, ma’am. Leah lives in the village but comes to help with the work in the kitchen.” Mrs. Hodges cast her a shrewd look. “You may be sure they won’t be gossiping about what we discuss today.”

Emma nodded. “Thank you.”

“How then can we help you, ma’am?”

“I know you said that Prudence complained of a headache.”

The housekeeper nodded. “That’s what she told me.”

Emma rubbed a casual fingertip over the wooden tabletop, worn smooth by decades of diligent scrubbing. “But I think we know there was more to it than that.”

The housekeeper seemed to consider her words before replying. “At first, I thought she might just have a sore head. Except Prudence never had headaches before, and the poor girl was near tears. Something had rattled her, and I made a point of saying so.”

“Did she tell you anything about it?”

When Mrs. Hodges and Harry exchanged a furtive glance, Emma knew she was on the right path.