Chapter 19 #2
“No matter the provocation, I find it impossible to believe that Larkins would deliberately commit violence against Prudence,” George firmly said.
“I agree. Something happened in that room, though. Prudence didn’t just fall out the window. I can’t seem to bring the sequence of events into focus, which is immensely frustrating.”
“Perhaps because you’re imagining the wrong person in the role of the villain,” George calmly replied.
“The bloodstained mobcap does make clear that some sort of violence took place. But even if there had been an argument and a dreadful accident—or worse—occurred, Larkins would never try to cover it up. He would take responsibility, no matter the consequences.”
She eyed him with a degree of skepticism. “Even if it meant going to the gallows?”
“Even then. I would stake my reputation on it.”
Emma felt some of the tension bleed from her shoulders. Of course George was right about Larkins. He would never hurt anyone, much less someone he loved.
“Besides,” George added, “I find it highly unlikely that Larkins would declare himself to Prudence under any circumstances. From what you’ve told me, he knew the girl didn’t love him, and he would never put her in so uncomfortable a position.”
Emma nodded. “Mrs. Hodges would certainly swear to that.”
“She may have to do so at the inquest.”
Ugh.
“I forgot about that,” she said. “I suppose Dr. Hughes will now call a coroner’s inquest.”
“Without a doubt. Given the evidence, he has no choice but to empanel a jury to make a determination as to whether Prudence’s death was an accident or murder.”
That was a gruesome prospect. The inquest into Mrs. Elton’s death had turned Highbury into a veritable circus, as people from the surrounding parishes had streamed into the village to watch the proceedings. The thought of going through another such event was appalling.
“If one can’t be avoided,” she said, “then we must do everything we can there to prove Larkins’s innocence.”
“Remember, the coroner’s jury only determines if murder has been committed. The murder trial itself will take place at the Assizes. That’s where Larkins will have the chance to plead his innocence.”
Emma suddenly froze. Of course Larkins was innocent, and of course someone was trying to frame him. But thus far their focus had been on Larkins and his dilemma, not on the person who was doing this to him. And certainly not on the person who’d …
George tapped her nose. “What are you thinking?”
“That I’m a great fool. We’ve been so focused on proving to ourselves and that stupid constable that Larkins is innocent that we’ve barely touched on an even more pressing concern.”
His expression was somber. “You mean that the real killer is still out there.”
“Yes, the person trying to frame Larkins.”
“One would assume it’s the same person.”
She gently thumped a fist against her forehead. “I am such a henwit. Even Isabella figured it out.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“When I arrived at Hartfield, Henry had already told Isabella and my father that Constable Sharpe had tried to arrest Larkins for smuggling. Naturally, Isabella was very upset that Henry had witnessed such a distressing scene.” She gave her husband a speaking look. “Very upset.”
“I’m sorry you had to manage such an unpleasant interlude, although I cannot blame Isabella for her reaction. Constable Sharpe was most remiss in behaving as he did in front of a child—a point I intend to pursue with him.”
“I’m inclined to give him a piece of mind as well, but I will defer to your position.”
“My dear, you already gave him a piece of your mind,” he sardonically replied.
“And I should be happy to do so again.”
“It might be best if you held off for now. But, returning to Hartfield, what makes you say that Isabella had the right of it?”
“Because when I told her that Larkins was being accused of murder as well as smuggling, she instantly fell into a fit of the vapors.”
George’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t follow.”
“She immediately deduced that the real killer was still on the loose. In the back of my mind, I understood that to be the case as well, yet I was too busy managing the situation to fully grasp it. Isabella, however, was convinced that murderous smugglers were about to descend on Highbury en masse. She was ready to run to the stables and prepare the carriage for departure, on the spot.”
“Ah, yes, the smugglers. Isabella’s assumption makes a great deal of sense, given that the smuggled tobacco and the mobcap were so conveniently found together.”
“First, I find a package of smuggled tobacco on the path. Then Sharpe receives an anonymous tip and goes to find two similar packages in Larkins’s cottage along with the bloodstained mobcap. It’s all very neat, isn’t it?”
“Too neat. It also clearly suggests that this person was close enough at hand to know when to plant the items in Larkins’s cottage.”
She stared at him in abject dismay. “And knew enough about Donwell and Highbury to frame a credible suspect. George, this is dreadful.”
So dreadful that she found herself longing for another glass of sherry—one considerably more generous than the last one.
“What are we going to do?” she asked him.
“I’ll contact the revenue agent again and insist that he make a more detailed investigation of smuggling activity in and around Highbury. I was doing exactly that when you returned home.”
“That makes perfect sense, but what about poor Larkins?”
“I’ll hire a solicitor for him, though I fear there’s little we can do until we can discover who’s behind this smuggling scheme. I suspect that will then lead us to the real killer.”
“And you’re truly convinced of that connection?”
He shrugged. “Nothing else makes sense.”
She pressed a hand to her chest, as if to hold back the growing sense of dread. “Do you know what this means? At least one smuggler was here the night of Prudence’s death. Do you think anyone connected to Donwell could be part of all this?”
“Do I think any on our staff are involved? Emphatically no. As to our tenants, it’s unlikely, although I will follow up on that. But please remember that the house was bursting with people that night. It would have been entirely possible for someone to slip in unobserved.”
“Or, perhaps, it could have been a guest at the party. After all, Mr. Weston told me that even wealthy and supposedly respectable people sometimes participate in smuggling.”
“Unfortunately true.”
Another ghastly thought struck her. “Prudence … she was the one involved with the smugglers, wasn’t she?”
George now looked as grim as a hanging judge. “So it would seem, but in what way we don’t yet know.”
Emma rubbed her forehead. “This is so awfully complicated. How will we ever figure it out?”
“As we did last time. One step at a time.”
“Last time also involved a great deal of luck, as you recall,” she ruefully commented.
“You sell yourself short, my dear. In the meantime, how did you leave things with Isabella and your father?”
“After Isabella regained some composure, I convinced her to postpone her departure until the morning.” She crinkled her nose in apology. “I’ll have to move back to Hartfield, first thing. I cannot leave Father alone.”
He briefly cupped her cheek. “I would expect nothing less.”
“Father also wants you to move back to Hartfield with me. He fears that Donwell Abbey has become a den of killers and smugglers. It took some work on my part to disabuse him of that notion.”
George cracked a half-smile. “I think it’s wise for me to remain at Donwell for at least the next few days. Once the revenue agent arrives, I will reassess the situation.”
“I know you will do whatever is appropriate, dearest. You are not to worry about us at Hartfield.”
“Perhaps you can enlist Miss Bates to help you. She all but lives at Hartfield as it is.”
“Good heavens, I’d completely forgotten about Miss Bates.
Father will have told her everything by now, and I’m sure the two of them have perfectly wound themselves up.
You remember that the last time we had a killer running about Highbury, I had to keep my smelling salts at the ready for the both of them. ”
George tipped up her chin and gave her a brief kiss. “I have no doubt you will manage everything with your usual aplomb.”
Emma eyed the drinks trolley as she contemplated life for the foreseeable future. “I think I’ll take that second sherry now, George.”
And make it a generous one, at that.