Chapter 7
When Emma entered the library, George put aside his book.
“I take it that Henry is settled for the night?” he asked.
She joined him on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
A fire blazed merrily in the grate and the room had been returned to its habitual state of comfort, all traces of last night’s events removed.
The thick velvet drapes had been drawn over all the windows, closing off any view of the terrace and its tragic reminders.
“Happily settled,” Emma replied. “I put him in the bedroom two doors down from us. It’s cozier than the other rooms on our floor. They’re much too grand, and I don’t think he’d feel very comfortable.”
When he put an arm around her, she nestled against him.
“I’m glad you didn’t put him on the nursery floor,” he replied.
“George, the nursery floor hasn’t been used in decades. Frankly, I’m amazed it’s not covered in cobwebs and haunted.”
“You know I don’t approve of ghosts, my dear. They spend all their time frightening the servants and generally misbehaving. I refuse to allow them at Donwell.”
She poked him in the side. “Now you’re being silly.”
“Indeed. But I will also admit that a great deal of work needs to be done before we can make a permanent move. It will be a bother for you, I’m afraid.”
She wriggled out of his embrace and reached for the silver teapot on the low table in front of them.
“It will be an interesting challenge,” she said, pouring him a cup. “For now, though, it’s just us, and everything is perfectly comfortable.”
“As comfortable as it can be, under the circumstances,” he dryly replied.
She sighed. “I know. I can’t help wondering what would have happened to Prudence if we hadn’t held that dratted party. Would she have died anyway?”
These last twenty-four hours, guilt had weighed more heavily on her than she cared to admit.
“We can never know,” George replied. “Any such speculation in that regard could lead to nothing but pointless recriminations.”
“True. If this last year has taught me anything, it’s that we can never remake the past, no matter how hard we might try. Still, I can’t help but think there must have been something we could have done to help Prudence.”
“We can at least help her family.”
She shifted to face him. “I would very much like to do that. I cannot imagine how dreadful it must have been for them to receive such shocking news—how dreadful for you to be the bearer of that news. I’m sorry, dearest.”
“I don’t know when I’ve ever seen a family so grieved.
Prudence’s mother died some years back. The poor girl was the only daughter, so her family was very protective of her.
Her brothers opposed her taking the Donwell job in the first place, but her father agreed it was a good opportunity.
” He shook his head. “You can imagine how the poor man feels now.”
Emma’s heart wrung with pity. “What a terrible burden to carry.” She hesitated. “I do hope he wasn’t angry with you.”
“One of the brothers was inclined to be angry with me. But when I tried to apologize, Mr. Parr would hear none of that.” George put his teacup on the table.
“He’s a remarkably charitable man. In fact, he was inclined to apologize to me for bringing such trouble onto my household.
Naturally, I told him that such was not the case, and that Prudence was greatly esteemed by everyone who worked at Donwell. ”
Emma propped her chin on the back of her hands, frowning absently at the fire. “I can’t help wondering why Prudence wished to take employment in service. Mrs. Hodges told me that the Parrs’ blacksmithing business does quite well. It employs her brothers too, does it not?”
“It does, and it seems prosperous. Leatherhead is large enough to support more than one smithy.”
“It’s a very respectable sort of business, too. One would think there would be a number of eligible tradesmen in Leatherhead who would be happy to court a pretty girl from a good family.”
“That was apparently the very reason her brothers wished her to remain at home.”
Emma toed off her slippers and pulled her feet up onto the sofa, getting comfortable. George snagged a lap blanket from the chair next to them and draped it over her legs.
“We cannot have you catching a chill,” he wryly said. “You father would never allow you to leave Hartfield again.”
“A fate worse than death, once he marries Miss Bates.”
“Now, Emma,” he gently chided.
“I apologize, dearest. So, Prudence’s brothers wished her to remain in Leatherhead, but her father allowed her to come to Donwell. Because he saw it as a good opportunity?”
“According to Mr. Parr, Prudence had ambitions to be a lady’s maid. She found Leatherhead stifling—that was the word he used.She wished to find employment in a large household in London at some point.”
“Then she certainly chose the wrong village. Leatherhead is a bustling metropolis compared with Highbury, and we never go anywhere.”
“This position was a compromise. Her father allowed her to start at Donwell precisely because it is so quiet and because the distance from home was not great.” He paused for a moment, glancing down at his hands. “Mr. Parr thought she would be safe in Highbury.”
Emma pressed a hand to his knee. “I’m so sorry, George. But none of this is your fault. I suppose all we can do now is help her family as best we can. Did you mean with the funeral arrangements?”
“The Parrs are well able to manage that. In fact, they were quite offended when I offered. The funeral is the day after tomorrow, by the way. I will, of course, be attending.”
“Another unhappy day for you, I’m afraid. Perhaps Larkins can accompany you.”
“Any of the staff who wish to go are certainly welcome to do so.”
“Then if we cannot help them with the funeral arrangements, how do we assist them?”
When he hesitated, Emma knew that he was about to pick his words very carefully.
“The Parrs have questions,” he replied. “Unfortunately, at this point they seem impossible to answer.”
“What sort of questions?”
He gave her a knowing look. “The same ones you had—and still have, I imagine.”
“Ah. Such as, was she drinking spirits when she apparently never touched them. And how she managed to fall out the window.”
“Correct. Mr. Parr was adamant that his daughter never drank spirits. Moreover, he and her brothers agreed that she would never jeopardize her employment by essentially stealing a decanter of expensive sherry.”
Emma nodded. “Our staff would agree.”
“Which raises the question as to how the decanter got to her room. Did you also tell him that something seemed to be troubling the girl?”
George rose and wandered over to the fireplace, where he stared intently into the flames before turning and propping a shoulder against the mantelpiece. “I did. But we must not forget she also complained of the headache, which might also explain her distress.”
“I’m inclined to think that such was not the case. From what Mrs. Hodges and Harry said—and from what I observed myself—it’s much more likely that some external situation disturbed her.”
“It’s true that one generally doesn’t drink spirits to cure a headache. The opposite result is likely to occur.”
Emma widened her eyes. “And you know this from personal experience, dearest?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” he admitted. “When I was under the illusion that you were in love with Frank Churchill, I may have imbibed more than is my usual want on one or two occasions. A thundering headache was the result.”
“Oh dear,” she replied, trying to smother a laugh. “How … how unfortunate.”
He scoffed. “Something tells me that your sympathy is less than genuine.”
“Don’t be silly, George. I’m terribly saddened to hear you had such a difficult time.” Then she grew serious again. “But enough of us being silly. Did Mr. Parr have any thoughts as to why Prudence might have been troubled?”
George returned to the sofa. “He did. Prudence returned home for a short visit a few weeks before her death. Both Mr. Parr and her brothers felt she was not herself, but Prudence was curiously reluctant to speak about it. Mr. Parr he got the sense that she might have a beau, or at the very least an admirer.”
Now that was interesting. Emma’s own theory began to sharpen around the edges.
“Yet,” George continued, “Mrs. Hodges and Harry both stated that no such beau existed.”
Emma waggled a hand. “Not unequivocally, though. I thought they were dodging the issue somewhat.”
He frowned. “Nevertheless, her brothers were adamant that even a disappointment in love wouldn’t drive her to behave so rashly. She was too sensible to jeopardize her position at Donwell, for one thing.”
“A mysterious beau is not the sort of thing a girl is likely to share with protective older brothers,” she dryly replied.
“True. But we would certainly know if she had a beau here at Donwell, or one from the staff in a neighboring household. Nor would I have any objection as long the relationship was conducted in an appropriate manner.”
“But what if the beau—or admirer—wasn’t a servant?” Emma cautiously said.
“Are you suggesting she might have been involved with someone from the village?”
“Not involved, necessarily.”
“What exactly are you suggesting then, my dear?”
She hesitated for just a moment. “For the sake of argument, let’s say Prudence had an admirer in Highbury. She was a very pretty girl, after all, and it would be reasonable that a young man would take an interest in her.”
“Do you have a particular young man in mind?”
“Perhaps William Cox?”
Her husband’s dark brows practically rose up to his hairline. “I cannot imagine his parents would look favorably on such a liaison.”
“Dearest, I suspect there are any number of young men who are undeterred by parental disapproval in such matters.”
He snorted. “I take your point. Still, William hardly seems the type to court a serving girl, even a very pretty one. And the Parrs are hardly on the same social level as the Coxes.”
She rounded her eyes at him. “Have you met Anne Cox and her sister?”