Page 71 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

“He deserved to be miserable,” Emma tartly replied.

Susan grimaced an apology. “He’s ever so sorry, Mrs. Knightley, and he’s dreadfully ashamed that he acted so poorly.”

“Then why are you apologizing instead of him?”

“He’s afraid that you or Mr. Knightley will give him a thundering scold,” Anne replied, sneering a bit. “I’ve told him to stop being such a coward.”

Emma glanced at the young man, still sitting with Miss Nash. She found him gazing at her with a woebegone expression that was more akin to a puppy that had just been kicked than a ruthless killer.

He blushed and quickly returned his attention to Miss Nash.

Emma sighed. “He certainly deserves a thundering scold. Gentlemen shouldn’t be acting so poorly, especially in public.”

Anne bristled. “Lots of young men drink and flirt. I don’t see why William should be any different.”

“He greatly embarrassed your parents. And I can assure you that a true gentlemen does not act that way in publicorprivate.”

Anne flapped her hands like an agitated goose. “How else are you supposed to meet young men if they don’t flirt with you?”

Emma wondered what she’d done to earn the ghastly task of having to school such a silly young woman in appropriate social behavior. “You do it by having a rational conversation with them about something that interests you both.”

Susan looked perplexed. “But what if you don’t know what interests them?”

“You ask them. Young men like nothing better than talking about themselves.”

Anne scoffed. “But that’s so boring.”

Hopeless.

“To return to your brother,” Emma said. “You said your mother wished you to apologize for him. Did William also ask you to approach me on his behalf?”

Susan nodded. “He’s truly sorry, and he also apologizes for …” She trailed off with a grimace.

“For what?”

The sisters exchanged a glance. For the first time, they looked genuinely uncomfortable.

“After you told us to remove him from the hall,” Anne reluctantly said, “we took him to one of the drawing rooms.”

“The yellow one,” added Susan. “It’s ever so nice a room, Mrs. Knightley. And we’re very sorry what happened.”

“Which was what?”

“William got sick,” Susan reluctantly admitted. “He, um …”

“Cast up his crumpets?” Emma dryly supplied.

She nodded.

“But he didn’t get any on the furniture,” Anne said. “And only a bit on the carpet. So it wasn’t so bad, after all.”

“Didn’t one of the servants tell you?” Susan asked. “We felt sure that they would.”

“As you recall, we were a trifle busy that evening.” Emma suddenly frowned. “And you said this happened immediately after I spoke with you?”

Susan nodded.

“So, after your brother became ill, what happened next?”