Chapter 16
Having overslept, Emma hurried along to the dining room.
When Henry had finally drifted off, she’d stolen back to bed.
George had muttered in his sleep, and then rolled over and wrapped an arm around her waist. Eventually, with the reassuring warmth of her husband’s body enveloping hers, she’d managed to quiet her restless thoughts and fall into slumber.
When she’d finally awakened, it was full daylight and George was gone from their room. She’d hoped to speak with him and explain last night’s activities before Henry got to him. Her husband would likely be less than impressed with her failure to wake him and instead investigating on her own.
She almost ran into Harry as he exited from the dining room, carrying a teapot.
“Good morning, Mrs. Knightley. I was just going to fetch a fresh pot. Can I get you anything?”
“Are there any of Serle’s lovely scones left?” she innocently asked.
He winced. “I believe Master Henry just ate the last one.”
“Drat. I was so looking forward to one, too.”
Harry expression conveyed sheepish guilt. He might not be the best footman in England—well, it was doubtful he’d be the best footman anywhere—but his bumbling ways were rather endearing.
“Sorry, ma’am. Can I bring up some muffins? I think Mrs. Hodges just took them nice ones she makes out of the oven.”
Emma smiled. “I was teasing, Harry. Is there any coffee?”
“Yes, ma’am. I just brought up a fresh pot.”
“That’ll do for now.”
He bobbed his head and started to hurry down the hall when Emma recalled the question she should have asked him at the outset.
“Harry, what about the chicken coops?”
He half turned to look back at her. “All right and tight. Mrs. Knightley. No sign of the poultry thief or anyone else.”
“So no poultry predations. Excellent. And you saw no evidence of anyone else who’d been in the garden or behind the house?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, ma’am. Just the usual comings and goings from the kitchen to the stable, and from the outbuildings past the gardens.”
“Please check again this morning. You could have missed something in the dark.” She paused for a moment. “Better yet, have Larkins take a look. He should be made aware, regardless.”
“Mr. Knightley already told me to do that, ma’am. As soon as Mr. Larkins comes into the house.”
She winced. “So Mr. Knightley knows about last night?”
“Master Henry told him, and then he asked me about it.”
Emma sighed. She hated being caught on the back foot, especially by her husband.
“That will be all, Harry. Thank you.”
She adjusted her collar and tugged her cuffs into place. Then she plastered on a bright smile and sailed into the dining room.
“Good morning, everyone,” she called out in a cheery voice.
Calling out was necessary,since the dining room was enormous.
It was one of the largest rooms in the abbey, with circular, recessed alcoves where the sideboards were situated.
Several floor-to-ceiling windows lined one wall, adorned with red velvet draperies tied back with black cords.
A long, heavylooking mahogany table in the Jacobean style with matching padded chairs held court down the length of the room.
Family lore claimed the room had once served as the refractory for the monks who, one would assume, would be willing to endure the chilly atmosphere for the good of their souls.
More than three or four seats away from the fireplace meant one’s toes and fingers were likely to freeze at more inclement times of year.
George and Henry sensibly sat at the far end near the merrily crackling fire in the hearth.
Her husband rose and came to meet her. “Forgive us for not waiting for you. I certainly understand why you’d wish to sleep in a trifle.”
Emma tried not to wince at his dry tone. “I apologize for being so late. The morning is already half-advanced.”
George pushed in her chair as she took her place opposite Henry.
“Not as bad as that,” he replied. “And not surprising, considering you were up half the night.”
She cast him a reproachful glance over her shoulder. “It wasn’t half the night, I assure you.”
“No? I am glad to hear it. May I fetch you something from the sideboard?”
“Are there any coddled eggs?”
“There are, indeed. I think toast and jam might be in order, as well. You’re looking rather pale this morning, my Emma.”
“I’m perfectly fine, George. Please don’t worry.”
He crossed to the sideboard. “I do tend to worry when I hear that my wife was up in the middle of the night pursuing mysterious intruders.”
Emma looked at her nephew, who crinkled his nose.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s fine,” she whispered back.
“I wasn’t exactly engaged in a hot pursuit of villains,” she said as he placed a very full plate of food in front of her. “George, I cannot possibly eat all this.”
He resumed his seat. “Do your best, please. I don’t want you falling ill, especially in this cold weather.”
“Now you sound like my father. Which reminds me,” she said as she took up her knife. “Please do not mention anything about last night to him. Or to your mother,” she added, raising her eyebrows at her nephew.
“I won’t,” Henry replied. “She’d want me to come back to Hartfield.”
“I take it that you would prefer to stay with us for the time being?” George asked.
“Yes, please. It’s more fun here than at Hartfield.”
George’s smile was wry. “Apparently so, since there are no potential villains skulking about Hartfield’s shrubbery.”
Emma sighed. “Henry has clearly alerted you to our nocturnal adventures.”
“I cannot be happy you didn’t wake me, Emma.”
“I understand, but you needed your rest. To be fair, you were dead to the world, George.”
“Emma—”
She held up a hand—or, rather, she held up her piece of toast. “I truly didn’t think it was anything to worry about.
I couldn’t see anything from Henry’s room, so I thought to pop down to the long gallery to have a look.
And there was someone out there, George,” she said.
“But he was quite far from the house by that point,” she hastily added when she saw the expression on his face.
“And at that point, you apparently decided it was wise to go outside and investigate. In the dead of night and at the opposite end of the house, where I couldn’t hear you if anything went wrong.”
Emma cast a jaundiced eye at her nephew. “Henry, one thing you must learn as an accomplice is when not to share information.”
“Sorry, Auntie Emma,” he said. “I’ll do better next time.”
She smiled at him. “I’m sure you will, dear.”
“There won’t be a next time,” George sternly noted. “If either of you ever see anything amiss, you are to come for me immediately. Failing that, send Harry or one of the grooms to fetch Larkins.”
Emma regarded him with some surprise. “George, I simply saw some lights on the path leading to Langham. And as it turns out, Harry happened to be raiding the larder, so he went out and checked for me.”
Her husband scoffed. “It was by sheer happenstance that he happened to be there.”
She thought about that. “Actually, I shouldn’t be surprised if Harry raids the larder on a regular basis. I can’t think Mrs. Hodges would approve of such behavior.”
“Emma—”
“I take your point, dearest. Next time we see lights in the middle of the night, I will fetch you immediately.”
“That would be wise,” he said in a surprisingly serious tone.
She frowned. “George, why so—”
As the door opened and Harry entered with the tea service, Emma breathed a grateful sigh.
She was never at her best when on the receiving end of one of George’s scolds,although they were thankfully rare since their marriage.
But an early morning scold with only a sip of coffee was quite intolerable.
“Thank you, Harry,” she said. “Have you had a chance to look about the garden, yet?”
He set the tea tray in front of her. “Yes, ma’am. Nothing out of the ordinary, as far as I could tell.”
“No unusual sets of tracks?” George asked.
“Not sure what you mean by unusual tracks, sir,” he replied. “Everything seemed normal to me. And nothing around the chicken coops except the regular comings and goings from the kitchen staff.”
“Nothing in the garden?” Emma asked, just to be sure.
Harry paused to think. “I did see deer tracks up by the shrubbery. I expect Mr. Larkins won’t be happy, since they trampled some of the low shrubs and made a mess of things.”
Emma smiled. “It certainly wasn’t deer carrying those lanterns.”
“No, ma’am,” he replied, completely serious.
George cleared his throat. “Thank you, Harry.”
The footman was barely out the door before Henry turned an earnest gaze on his uncle. “But I know I saw lights in the garden, Uncle George. Auntie Emma saw them, too.”
“To be fair, I only saw the lights out by the path,” Emma apologetically said. “And there are apparently no suspicious tracks in the garden.”
The little boy crossed his arms and lifted his chin in a stubborn tilt. In that moment, he looked remarkably like his father. “I know what I saw.”
“We’re not doubting you,” George replied in a kind voice. “But at night, distances can be deceiving. Lights can actually be farther away than they appear. But there’s no doubt you and your aunt saw something—or someone—on Donwell lands, and that concerns me.”
Emma sighed. “Please don’t tell me it’s the poultry thief. Father will be so upset.”
“I doubt it’s the poultry thief, either,” he rather grimly replied.
Oh dear.
“That sounds ominous, dearest.”
Her husband glanced at Henry, as if suddenly realizing that perhaps what they were about to discuss wasn’t fit for younger ears.
Their nephew, however, gazed calmly back at his uncle. “You needn’t worry about me, Uncle George. Papa is a barrister. He hears all sorts of horrid things.”
Emma raised her eyebrows. “And how do you know about these horrid things?”
“Well … I suppose I overhear Papa sometimes when he talks to Mama about them.”
“Apparently you take after your aunt in that regard,” George sardonically commented.