Page 91 of Murder at Donwell Abbey

As she made her way back to the others, Emma decided there would be no more parties at Donwell Abbey forquitesome time.

CHAPTER18

Emma studied her breakfast plate with a jaundiced eye. For her to lose her appetite was rare, but yesterday’s events had done the trick. Mrs. Cole, upon hearing that smugglers might be operating in the vicinity, had taken her daughters and fled as if a bloodthirsty band of freetraders was hot on their heels. Isabella had reacted in equally an overdone fashion, moaning that Highbury had become infested with criminals and vowing to return to London immediately. Only when an exasperated George had pointed out that the day was too far advanced for travel had Isabella regained a measure of sense.

George walked into the dining room. He’d been up exceedingly early, busy with the repercussions of yesterday’s events.

He dropped a kiss on her head. “Good morning, my Emma.”

“Good morning, dearest. Have you had breakfast, or have you been too busy searching for smugglers since dawn?”

“I confess I have yet to eat.”

Shaking her head at the foolishness of husbands, Emma rose and went to the sideboard. She piled ham, coddled eggs, and a cheddar scone on a plate and took it to him.

“I imagine you think I’ll eat all of this,” he mildly commented.

“I know that otherwise you’ll spend the rest of the day running about without a thing to eat. So, yes.”

“You know me too well.”

“The study of Mr. Knightley has been a favorite subject of mine since I was a little girl.”

He scoffed before taking up his fork.

Emma let him eat for several minutes as she drank her coffee and pretended that everything was just fine. After a few minutes, he shot her a wry glance.

“Youcanspeak to me, my dear. I’m capable of doing two things at once.”

“Of course, but I didn’t wish to disturb you.”

“You never could, anyway. To your earlier point, I have been walking the grounds with Larkins. As he noted yesterday, there are suspicious tracks that cut across the back gardens. It’s hard to ascertain where they originate, unfortunately, because others cross through the gardens on a regular basis, as you know, including the staff and people coming up from Abbey Mill Farm.”

“Has Larkins noticed any unusual activity? He’s best placed to do so, given that he’s all over the estate on a daily basis.”

George shook his head. “No, and he wouldn’t see anything after he retreats to his cottage at night. He has no view of the gardens from there and can see the Langham Path only where it intersects Donwell Road.”

Emma grimaced. “What do you intend to do?”

“I’ve already dispatched a message to the revenue agent in Leatherhead to apprise him of yesterday’s events. I have no doubt Mr. Clarke will wish to investigate.”

“Splendid,” she sardonically replied. “Now we’ll have a revenue agent skulking about the village. I’m sure everyone will be thrilled.”

“Mr. Clarke will simply conduct his investigation and present the results to me and to his superiors. No one in Highbury has anything to fear.”

“Nevertheless, Father will be in a complete flap about this. I hope you realize that once Isabella leaves for London, I’ll need to return to Hartfield.”

“I know. But given the circumstances, I’ll have to remain at Donwell for the time being.”

Since their marriage, they’d not spent even a single night apart. Still, there was no point in making a fuss over it. “Gracious me, it would seem Highburyisturning into a hotbed of criminality, first with murders and now with smuggling.”

“Murders?” George looked puzzled for a moment but then sighed. “Surely you’re not suggesting that smugglers had anything to do with Prudence’s death?”

Emma wavered but then decided to voice her concerns, no matter how improbable. “I know it’s an odd connection to make, yet the explanation surrounding her death has always struck me as improbable. What if Prudencehaddiscovered something bad but didn’t know what to do about it?”

“Is there any indication of that? From one of the other servants perhaps?”

“Well … no.”