Chapter 3 #2
She spoke in a normal voice, hoping to inject a note of calm. It seemed to work, because her father gave her a tentative smile.
“That would be most welcome,” he said. “For Miss Bates as well, I imagine.”
“And me,” added Mrs. Bates in her quavering voice.
Mrs. Bates, who was very elderly, rarely touched anything but the occasional thimbleful of ratafia. Then again, it wasn’t every day that one heard a body crashing to its death outside the window.
Emma poured three small wineglasses of sherry from the drinks trolley. Since each of them would no doubt be required to give a witness statement, it wouldn’t do for them to get tipsy.
She carried a silver tray with the drinks back to the little group huddled around the fire. After handing them out, she watched with astonishment as Mrs. Bates downed her sherry in one go.
“Gracious,” Miss Bates said in a faint tone.
The elderly woman handed her glass back to Emma.
“Er … would you like another, Mrs. Bates?” she asked.
“If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Knightley.”
“Mother!” Miss Bates exclaimed. “Do you think that’s wise?”
Mrs. Bates narrowed her rheumy eyes behind her spectacles. “There’s no need to fuss, Hetty. I am perfectly capable of holding my drink. And tonight’s events certainly warrant a bit of Dutch courage.”
“Goodness me,” said Father. “I am in awe of your fortitude.”
“Mr. Woodhouse, to still be alive at my age requires a good deal of fortitude.”
Emma had to bite back a smile as she went to refill the lady’s glass.
As she did so, the door opened and Harry, Donwell’s lone footman, entered the room.
“Did you ring, Mrs. Knightley?” he asked. “It’s so noisy in the kitchen that we wasn’t sure we actually heard a ring. But Mrs. Hodges insisted I come up and check.”
“Yes. Harry, I need you to find Mr. Knightley and bring him to the library. Immediately.”
The footman peered at her with his usual befuddled expression. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Knightley?”
Outwardly, Harry was the perfect footman. He was tall and well built, possessing a fine head of hair and handsome features. Unfortunately, he did not appear to be the sharpest pin in the pincushion.
“No, young man, everything is not all right,” Emma’s father huffed. “In fact, there’s been—”
Miss Bates jumped to her feet. “Dear Mr. Woodhouse, let me fetch you another sherry. It will be just the thing.”
Harry looked utterly confused. “Mrs. Knightley?”
“It’s fine,” said Emma. “Just go find Mr. Knightley and tell him that there’s been a … small incident. And don’t speak to anyone else.”
“Yes, Mrs. Knightley, right away.”
He hurried out.
Emma eyed the drinks trolley, but then decided against a medicinal brandy. Someone needed to keep a clear head.
“Here is your sherry, Mr. Woodhouse,” Miss Bates said. “It’s all very upsetting, but Mr. Knightley will know exactly what to do. He’s a very fine magistrate, you know.”
Emma mustered a smile. “That’s right. George will take care of everything.”
“I hope so,” Father plaintively said. “To sit here in such dreadful circumstances is intolerable. I wonder if we will ever get home.”
Thankfully, the door opened in the next moment and George strode in.
Emma hurried to him. “Thank goodness. I thought Harry would have to search the house for you.”
“I was already on my way to the library to see you when he waylaid me. He said there had been some kind of incident.”
“A terrible incident!” Father exclaimed. “Too terrible for words.”
George cast him a startled glance. “What’s happened?”
Emma took him by the hand and began to draw him toward the terrace doors.
“My dear, your fingers are ice-cold,” he said with a frown.
“It’s no matter. There’s been a dreadful accident outside.”
He let go her hand and strode to the doors. Emma retrieved her lamp from the side table and followed him out.
“To the left,” she said.
George turned and then froze in his tracks.
“It’s Prudence,” Emma said in a quiet voice.
Her husband gazed down at the girl for several long moments. Emma closed the terrace doors and went to him.
“I know,” she said. “It’s appalling.”
George crouched beside the body. Emma saw in the fitful light of the lamp that it was clear Prudence must have perished instantaneously. The injury to her head was ghastly.
“How can this be?” Disbelief echoed in his voice. “I saw her earlier in the evening, and she seemed fine.”
“Actually, she became ill with the headache some time ago, so Mrs. Hodges sent her to her room. As to what happened after that, I cannot say.”
He straightened up, his face a grim mask in the flickering light.
To George, this would be more than simply a tragic accident.
Anyone who lived or worked at the abbey or on his farms was part of the Donwell family.
He felt responsible for them, from the lowliest stable boy to a prosperous tenant farmer like Robert Martin.
“I’m so sorry, George. She was such a sweet girl.”
“Yes, it’s beyond dreadful.” He took the lamp and held it high over the body, inspecting it. “Who found her?”
“Miss Bates. They all heard the fall, though. Or, I should say, the … impact.” Emma felt her gorge start to rise, but she forced it back down. “Miss Bates came out to investigate.”
George grimaced. “She must have been greatly upset.”
“She was, although I must say she’s done an excellent job of keeping Father and Mrs. Bates relatively calm.”
“Then I’m grateful to her. And grateful that you were close by when the accident occurred.”
He stepped back as she had done and peered up at the open window above them.
“I’m assuming the height is great enough that she would have died immediately,” Emma said.
“I should think so, given the condition of her skull.”
She shivered and drew her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
George took her arm and led her back to the terrace doors. “There is no need for you to stand around in this cold. I’m going to check a few more things, and then I’ll be right in.”
“What else can I do?”
“I told Harry to wait outside the library door. Have him fetch Mrs. Hodges, and also tell him to find Dr. Hughes. We cannot move the body until he sees it.”
Emma felt another nasty premonition well up. “George, you don’t think she was …”
The awful word hung between them.
He shook his head. “It certainly seems to have been an accident, but the coroner needs to make that determination.”
“All right. I’ll ask Harry to fetch Mrs. Hodges, and then go look for Dr. Hughes myself.”
“Quietly, though. We must go quietly.”
“I understand.”
She slipped back into the room.
“Emma, must you keep going outside?” her father exclaimed. “You’ll catch a chill!”
“I’m perfectly well. George will come inside in a few minutes, and then—”
Isabella suddenly burst into the room. “Emma, what is happening here? Why is the footman guarding the door? He didn’t wish to let me in.”
Harry hovered in the doorway. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Knightley.” He glanced at Isabella. “Er, and Mrs. Knightley. But Mr. Knightley told me to stand outside the door and wait for him. So I was just doing what he said.”
“It’s fine,” said Emma. “I’ll speak to you—”
“I insist you tell me what’s wrong!” Isabella’s gaze darted to their father. “Is Father unwell? Should we fetch Mr. Perry?”
“Father is perfectly fine, but—”
“I am not perfectly fine,” Father huffed. “And neither is anyone else, especially that poor, dead girl on the terrace.”
Harry went bug-eyed, while Isabella pressed a hand to her bodice. “Emma, what is Father talking about?”
“It’s Prudence, the maid,” said Miss Bates. “She fell out the window and killed herself.”
“What?” Her sister’s shriek made Emma wince.
“Isabella, please. We don’t yet fully know what has happened. We must be calm.”
“How can we be calm?” Father dramatically pronounced. “There’s a dead girl on the terrace, and Emma and Miss Bates have caught a terrible chill going out to look at her. We shall all come down with fevers, I know it!”
Isabella gazed at him in horror, and then burst into tears.
Emma sighed as she once more crossed to the drinks trolley, this time to fetch a sherry for her sister. She couldn’t help thinking of all the family occasions that had ended on a similar note of panic—sans a dead body, of course.
Sadly, she knew the evening would only get worse.