Chapter 6
Emma was up early, shortly after George departed for Leatherhead. Despite his affectionate admonition to stay in bed and rest, a thousand questions bedeviled her, including how to manage Father and matters at Hartfield while she and George attended to the fraught situation at Donwell.
After dismissing the maid, Emma made her way downstairs, smiling faintly at the voices coming from the guest bedrooms. She heard giggles and teasing from her nieces and nephews, as well as the soothing tones of the nursemaid’s voice as she responded to the cries of little Emma, the youngest of John and Isabella’s children.
At the bottom of the stairs, she encountered Simon, their head footman.
“Good morning, Mrs. Knightley,” he said. “You’ll find a fresh pot of coffee and just-baked orange scones waiting for you. I can also fetch you some coddled eggs, and I’m about to bring up some gruel.”
A slight spasm crossed his face at the mention of Serle’s hideous gruel, the bane of Emma’s childhood. Only Father willingly ate it, claiming it contained healthful benefits for sundry ailments.
“Is my father up already?” she asked, somewhat surprised.
“Not yet, ma’am. The gruel is for Mrs. Isabella Knightley.”
Emma sighed. She’d forgotten that Isabella also ate the occasional bowl of gruel when she was feeling particularly frazzled.
“I’m surprised my sister is already in the breakfast parlor,” she replied.
Even with five children, Isabella tended to be a late riser. Or perhaps it was because she had five children. Everyone needed a little peace now and again, and her sister’s children, while charming, were the opposite of peaceful.
“Mrs. Knightley wishes to return to Brunswick Square this afternoon, and so is making an early start to the day,” Simon replied.
Drat. I need her.
“Thank you, Simon. I’ll make do with coffee and scones.”
“Very good, madam.”
Entering the breakfast parlor, Emma smiled to see Henry, Isabella’s oldest child. He was kind and sensitive like his mamma but without her fretful anxieties. In fact, he greatly resembled his Uncle George, possessing a quiet dignity unusual and appealing in one so young.
“Good morning,” she cheerfully said as she joined mother and son at the table.
Henry looked up from his honey-slathered scone. “Good morning, Auntie Emma. I hope you slept well.”
“We returned home from Donwell quite late. I hope we didn’t disturb you.”
Isabella sighed. “It wouldn’t matter if you did. I could barely sleep a wink for worrying about Father’s health. And that poor girl, Emma! It’s so terribly sad.”
Emma directed a meaningful glance at Henry. “I wonder if we should be discussing this particular topic at … breakfast.”
“I already heard our nursemaid talking to one of the footmen,” Henry said around a mouthful of scone. “He said one of Donwell’s maids fell out the window.”
Emma couldn’t be surprised at the gossip, since several of Hartfield’s staff had been seconded to Donwell to assist with the party.
“I think you mean you overheard,” she replied.
The boy shrugged. “How else am I supposed to find things out? It’s not like adults will tell you anything.”
Isabella looked perturbed. “Little boys are not to know such things. From now on, you’re not to eavesdrop on adult conversations, Henry.”
“Yes, Mamma,” he politely replied.
When Emma lifted her eyebrows at him, Henry fought back a grin. He had no intention of obeying his mother’s directive. Emma knew it, and he knew she knew it.
Repressing an answering smile, she addressed her sister instead. “Isabella, I understand you wish to depart for London, but there’s no need to rush off. Father and I should be happy for you to stay.”
Isabella shook her head. “You and George will be so busy these next days, I’m sure. I don’t want to add to the commotion. It’s not good for Father.”
“As to that—”
The door opened and their father entered, wearing a colorful banyan and a cap on his head for extra warmth.
Emma jumped up to greet him. “Good morning, Father. I hope you were able to get some sleep.”
“Some, my dear,” he replied as she helped him to his seat. “I promised Miss Bates I wouldn’t lie awake fretting about that poor girl, but I woke up quite early and couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
Emma patted his shoulder. “I know, dear. It was very distressing.”
He sighed. “I do hope we won’t have a repeat of the awful events of last summer when Mrs. Elton died. I don’t think I could bear it.”
“I wish I’d been here last summer,” Henry stoutly said. “I could have helped Auntie Emma and Uncle George catch the killer.”
Isabella gasped. “Henry Knightley, how could you wish for such a thing? It gives me palpitations just to think of it.”
“Dear boy, you mustn’t give your mother palpitations,” Father exclaimed. “Palpitations are very bad for one’s health.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry replied in the long-suffering tone of a child well used to the anxieties of his fretful relatives.
Fortunately, Simon entered with a dish of coddled eggs and the gruel, providing a timely diversion.
“Here’s your breakfast, Father,” Emma said in a bright tone. “Serle’s eggs will set you up splendidly.”
Her father morosely eyed his plate. “Perhaps I should have gruel, just in case. What do you think our dear Perry would suggest after such a harrowing evening?”
Emma resumed her seat and poured herself another cup of coffee. “Mr. Perry is firmly of the belief that none of us will suffer any lasting harm from last night’s events. But I can send round a note asking him to stop by later, if that would ease your mind.”
Father smiled. “That would be a great relief.”
“Of course. Then we may all rest easy.”
“Except for George,” he replied. “Riding all the way to Leatherhead in this cold. I do not approve, Emma. That constable person should have gone to inform the unfortunate girl’s family of her demise.”
“It was more appropriate for George to go, Father. To help with the necessary arrangements.”
Isabella pushed aside her bowl of untouched gruel. “Then the sooner we can be off, the better. The children and I will only be in your way.”
Father stared at her, aghast. “Goodness, Isabella, I felt sure that you would stay for at least another week. Emma will need you.”
“I only promised to stay for the party, Father. Besides, John will be missing the children.”
“But John gets to see the children all the time,” he plaintively replied. “And you.”
It was a fact that John and Isabella could barely stand to be separated for more than a day. But he would simply have to survive another week without his family. Right now, Isabella was necessary for their father’s comfort.
“Isabella, it would be a great help to me if you stayed,” Emma coaxed.
Her sister frowned. “I don’t see how.”
“George and I need to spend more time at Donwell. The staff is most unsettled and would greatly benefit from having us in residence. It would be best if we stayed at Donwell for the next week or so, until we can sort through the various legal and personal matters.”
Her father regarded her with dismay. “You mean you will stay overnight at Donwell?”
“Yes, Father. We’ve done it before, you know.”
“But never for more than one night! What will I do if you’re there all the time?”
“That’s why I want Isabella to stay for another week. The children can keep you company, and Isabella can ensure that everything at Hartfield runs as it always does.”
Isabella hesitated for a few seconds. “I don’t know if John will approve of that.”
“I’m sure John will understand,” said Emma, “once you explain the reason. Or, you could ask him to return to Highbury and stay with you.”
Isabella emphatically shook her head. “He couldn’t possibly do that. He’s very busy at the office with a particularly important case that takes up much of his time.”
“Then I imagine he won’t be home a great deal, will he?”
“An excellent point,” Father said. “Why sit home waiting on John when you can be comfortable here at Hartfield? And the air is so much healthier in Highbury, you know. The children will surely benefit by remaining here.”
Isabella began to waver. “Well, I don’t—”
Henry, who’d been closely watching their conversation, tapped her arm to interrupt.
“Yes, dear?” Isabella said in a distracted tone.
“I heard Bella sneeze this morning,” he casually stated. “At least twice.”
Bella was the middle child of the Knightley brood, and the one most prone to sniffles.
His mother twisted in her chair to stare at him. “Are you sure?”
“Maybe even three times.”
Father threw down his napkin. “Isabella, you cannot possibly travel if Bella is coming down with a cold. She must stay here, and you must allow Perry to treat her.”
Isabella quickly stood. “Yes, of course. I’ll go check on her. Emma, could you send for Perry immediately? He must see her before this develops into an infectious complaint.”
Emma bit back a smile. “I’ll send a boy around right away.”
Isabella rushed from the room without bothering to reply.
“This is very bad,” Father said, greatly perturbed. “What if all the children come down with a cold?”
She studied her nephew, who’d calmly moved on to his third scone. “Henry, did you really hear Bella sneeze three times?”
He waggled a hand. “Maybe she sneezed once.”
Father peered at his grandson. “Are you saying that Bella is not sick?”
“It would seem that Henry was colluding with us to persuade his mother to remain at Hartfield,” Emma replied with amusement.
Father’s brow cleared. “Very clever, Henry.” Then he held up a minatory hand. “But in general, once should not tell lies to one’s parents.”
“Unless it’s for a good cause,” Emma quipped.
Henry shrugged. “Bella won’t mind, because Mamma will pay lots of attention to her.”
“And I take it you’re happy to stay at Hartfield for another week?”
The boy hesitated. “Actually, I was hoping I could stay at Donwell Abbey. It’s fun over there, and I like spending time with you and Uncle George.”
“But won’t you miss your mother?” Father asked. “And your brothers and sisters?”
The boy rolled his eyes. “I won’t miss baby Emma crying all the time, and John always wants me to play with him, even when I want to read.”
Emma stifled a smile. “I’ll have to ask your mother, but I for one would be happy for your company.”
Henry beamed at her. “I think I can help you, too. I know you have lots to do at Donwell, because you’re going to live there all the time once Grandfather and Miss Bates get married.”
That reminder gave Emma a little jolt. There was indeed a great deal of work to be accomplished at Donwell before they made their permanent move.
But even more pressing was getting to the bottom of last night’s tragic events. After sleeping on it—or tossing and turning on it—Emma was more convinced than ever that Donwell’s servants knew more about Prudence’s strange fall than they’d thus far revealed.
She glanced at the clock and rose to her feet, the vague outline of a plan forming in her mind. “Henry, you’d best run upstairs and have Nurse pack you some clothes. We leave for Donwell right after tea.”