Chapter 25
Emma returned to Hartfield to find the front hall stacked with luggage. “Goodness, Simon. What is all this?”
The footman left off sorting the bags and came over to take her outerwear. “Mr. Knightley has just returned from London, ma’am.”
“And apparently brought half the city home with him.”
“Just Mrs. John Knightley and the children.”
Emma stared at him, astonished. “My sister is here?”
“Yes, ma’am. The children are upstairs in the nursery, and Mr. Woodhouse, Mr. Knightley, and Mrs. Knightley are in the drawing room.”
What could have brought Isabella back to Hartfield so soon?
She hurried down the hall and into the drawing room to find her loved ones seated in front of the fire, enjoying the contents of a large tea tray.
George glanced up, smiled, and came to meet her.
Since they’d parted with just a titch of irritation between them, stepping into his embrace felt like heaven.
“Are you well, my darling?” he murmured.
“Perfectly.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Is everything all right in Brunswick Square?”
“I think so.”
Emma reluctantly broke off the embrace and went to greet her sister. “Dearest, what a surprise.”
“I hope it’s a happy one,” said Isabella, returning her hug.
“Silly, of course it is. Father and I were talking just this morning about asking you to return to Hartfield.” She smiled. “It’s like an answer to a prayer.”
“Indeed,” said their father. “Although I do hope Isabella and the children did not catch cold on the trip. Carriages can be so drafty.”
“George saw to everything,” Isabella said. “We had blankets and hot bricks all the way down.”
“Yes, we were quite snug,” George dryly replied. “All seven of us.”
Emma tried not to laugh. Wedged into a carriage with a passel of lively children—one of them a squirmy baby—was hardly the ticket for comfortable travel.
She took a seat as Isabella poured her a cup of tea. “Will John be joining us at some point?”
“I’m afraid he’s terribly busy at the moment. In fact, it was he who suggested we return to Highbury. He knew I felt quite dreadful about leaving you and Father in the midst of such an uproar, and he thought you could use my support.”
“That was very kind of him.”
And most unlike her brother-in-law, who hated being separated from his wife and children.
“As long as you’re not too worried about the, er, problems we’ve been experiencing in Highbury,” Emma added.
Isabella shrugged. “Both John and George assured me that both Hartfield and Donwell were perfectly safe, and that I was not to worry about any of it.”
When Emma lifted an eyebrow at her husband, he also shrugged. “Despite our recent difficulties, I do think Highbury is safe. And since you could use Isabella’s support right now, the suggestion made a great deal of sense.”
They might just change their minds about that after Emma filled him in on the events of the last few days.
“We must not look a gift horse in the mouth, Emma,” Father said. “We should be very grateful for Isabella’s visit. The children will benefit as well, as the country is always better than the city.”
Emma smiled. “Of course I’m grateful. You must stay as long as you wish, Isabella.”
“I wish you could stay forever,” Father wistfully said.
“I think Miss Bates might have something to say about that,” Emma wryly replied. “Now, isn’t it time for your afternoon nap, Father? Don’t forget the Bates ladies and the Westons are coming for dinner. You’ll want to be properly rested.”
“Dear me, I forgot all about that in the excitement of George and Isabella’s arrival.”
“I’ll go up with you, Father,” said Isabella. “I want to check on the children and then take a rest myself.”
“Very wise, my dear. Travel is so fatiguing. Perhaps we should have Perry in to look you and the children over, just to be safe. A restorative tonic might be in order.”
As they left the room, arm in arm, Father and Isabella debated the merits of restorative tonics versus calming draughts.
Emma turned back to her husband. “I cannot believe John encouraged Isabella to return here without him. Are you sure all is well?”
“It seems to be. I will say that John is quite harried with work, poor fellow, and this business with Larkins has added to it.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. I hope, however, you were able to make some progress.”
“We were. On John’s advice, I hired a barrister with an excellent reputation in criminal defense. Unfortunately, his initial opinion is that the case against Larkins is strong.”
“Drat. That’s not good.”
“John and I did contact a Bow Street Runner, though. A Mr. Phelps has taken the case, and will focus on tracking down the smuggling gang.”
“That, at least, is excellent news.” She placed a large piece of walnut cake on a plate and handed it to him. “If we can untangle that knot, we should be able to clear Larkins of both charges.”
“Remember, we don’t as yet have any clear evidence that the smugglers were behind Prudence’s death.”
She eyed him with exasperation. “Then the only reasonable conclusion would be that Larkins is guilty of both crimes. Either that or two separate criminals would be trying to frame him.”
George took a bite of cake before answering.
“Not necessarily. He could be cleared of the charge of smuggling but still be in possession of contraband goods. As we’ve seen, it’s not uncommon for otherwise law-abiding citizens to buy from smugglers.
The Crown could easily make the case that the bloody mobcap—and the fact that Larkins harbored feelings for Prudence—are separate and apart from the presence of the contraband tobacco. ”
“But we know it’s not, George,” she argued.
“I understand, my dear, but we will not be sitting on the jury at the murder trial.”
She couldn’t help muttering a mildly naughty oath under her breath.
George put down his plate and came to sit next to her. “It’s early days. We have hired the best defense, and now Mr. Phelps is on the case. We’re doing everything we can to run the smugglers to ground.”
“There have actually been developments in that regard, although I don’t even know where to begin. It’s been rather a fright since you’ve been gone.”
“My dear, you fill me with trepidation.” George narrowed his gaze. “You’ve not been interfering in the investigation, have you?”
She rounded her eyes. “Why would you make that inference?”
“Because I’ve known you my entire life?”
“Yes, but someone needs to investigate things around here, especially since poor Mr. Clarke was attacked in the churchyard—presumably while looking for smugglers.”
George looked stunned. “Was he badly injured?”
“He’s recovering, although it was a near thing. If Mr. Barlowe hadn’t found him early the next morning, the poor man probably would have frozen to death. He’s at the Crown, and Mrs. Stokes has been taking care of him. But I’m sure Mr. Clarke will wish to speak to you himself.”
George shook his head. “I can hardly believe it. This is much too close to home, Emma.”
“Wait until you hear the next piece of the puzzle.”
She then proceeded to tell him about the strange lights in the bell tower, and what she and Miss Bates had discovered.
“You went up into the tower with Miss Bates?” he asked in apparent disbelief.
“I didn’t wish to bring her along, but she insisted. In all fairness, she’s been surprisingly helpful.”
George muttered something under his breath about angels fearing to tread.
Emma patted his knee. “There was nothing dangerous about it, unless one counts a ridiculous discussion with Mr. Barlowe as dangerous.”
He sighed. “So he caught you snooping.”
“Not snooping. Investigating.”
“Emma, you know the constable investigates these matters.”
“Unfortunately, however, he keeps arriving at the wrong conclusion.”
“Emma—”
“George, you must trust me on this. Constable Sharpe is convinced it was a simple robbery, but that’s a ridiculous conclusion.
And Miss Bates and I agree that Mr. Barlowe is acting very suspiciously, and he’s also in possession of what are likely contraband goods.
How else could you explain that he has the best French brandy in the village? ”
“I cannot,” he reluctantly replied.
“And then there were the lights in the bell tower. Perry saw them, and he is certainly a reliable witness. Even you must agree with that.”
She obviously must have sounded a bit put out because he flashed her a rueful smile as he took her hand.
“Of course you’re a reliable witness, and obviously you’re a great deal more perceptive and intelligent than Constable Sharpe. But that’s not the point.”
“You’re afraid I’ll run myself into trouble. I understand, George, but I’ve been very careful.”
He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. “All right, I believe you. And I share your concern. I also see a discussion with both Mr. Clarke and Mr. Barlowe in my immediate future.”
“That’s excellent, but there’s more.”
His dark eyebrows went up. “Really?”
“Yes. Harriet stopped by this morning with some quite alarming information. Oh, and then there’s William Cox.”
He sighed. “Good Lord. I’ve only been gone three days, Emma.”
She wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “I know. It’s a lot to take in, dearest.”
As she related the details she’d alluded to, George’s expression grew ever more troubled.
“If it was just as William said,” Emma finished, “one might conclude that the smugglers were merely passing by Highbury or Donwell on their way to London, and that no one in the parish was involved to any real degree. However, from what Dick Curtis told us, that’s probably not the case.”
George slowly shook his head. “It’s a great shame that Harriet cannot give us the name of her friend.”
“I cannot ask her to break her promise. Her friend is very frightened, and one cannot blame her.”
George fell to pondering for several moments before rising and pulling her up. “I think a chat with Mr. Barlowe is the first thing in order.”
“What, now?”
“No time like the present.”
“Do you wish me to go with you, then?”