Page 119 of Murder at Donwell Abbey
She had no desire to inquire into the specifics ofworse.
“William, were you able to ascertain if those men were part of a larger operation?”
He nodded and went on to explain that the runs were well organized and apparently happened at least twice a month.
“They knew what they were about,” he finished. “I thought it was just a few fellows, at first—like I said, more of a jolly than anything else.” He grimaced. “Pretty stupid of me, I guess.”
Anne scoffed. “How could you be such a dimwit? I wouldn’t have fallen into their trap.”
“They don’t ask girls,” he retorted. “So you’d never have the chance to show them how smart you are.”
Mrs. Cox looked pained. “Children, please do not make things worse with your idiotic bickering.”
“William, how did they contact you?” Emma asked, trying to reclaim the conversation.
“I met them once a month at the Eagle and the Hare,” he replied.
“They never communicated in writing?”
He shook his head.
“Could you identify the farms where the goods were stored?”
He grimaced. “The runs only happened on moonless or overcast nights, so it was very dark. I … I don’t think I could tell you specifically which farms. Only the route.”
“When we’re finished here,” she said. “I want you to write down everything you can remember.”
Mrs. Cox anxiously peered at her. “I know what William did was very bad, but if this becomes common knowledge, I cannot imagine what will happen to him or to my husband. If my boy is arrested …” Her mouth trembled.
“Miss Nash won’t have anything to do with William if she finds out about this,” Susan dolefully added.
William’s face crumpled. For a horrible moment, Emma feared he might burst into tears. George should really make the final decision on what course to take, but taking in the woeful faces of Mrs. Cox and her children—even Anne—Emma knew she couldn’t subject them to scandal and even financial ruin. While William had been a reckless idiot, he’d managed to extract himself from a bad situation and was apparently trying to mend his ways.
Emma gave Mrs. Cox a reassuring smile. “I am going to share this information with Mr. Knightley, of course, and I will impress upon him the need to maintain your privacy. I see no reason to share William’s name with either Mr. Clarke or Constable Sharpe. The information itself is what matters, not the source in this particular case.”
She was going out on a limb with that promise, and could only pray it wouldn’t crack under her weight.
William all but collapsed into his chair with relief, while Mrs. Cox clasped her hands to her breast. “I shall be eternally grateful to you, Mrs. Knightley. Thank you.”
“Well, I should think Mrs. Knightley would help us,” Anne said, reverting to type. “We are her neighbors, after all, and neighbors don’t tattle on neighbors or lord it over them.”
Miss Bates, clearly appalled by the girl’s comments, shook a finger at her. “And you, Miss Cox, should learn to be grateful when one of your neighbors does you a great service. You should be thanking Mrs. Knightley, not making pert remarks.”
The unexpected reprimand reduced the room to astonished silence.
In all her years, Emma had never once heard Miss Bates render even the mildest criticism against anyone. Father clearly wasn’t the only person who’d undergone a remarkable change in the last year.
“Er, quite,” said Emma. “William what happened when you told the smugglers you wished to stop?”
He winced. “I … I just stopped going to meet them, actually. I saw how they dealt with people who didn’t do what they asked, and I wanted no part of it.”
Perhaps not the best course of action, but she couldn’t blame him. “I take it they know your real name and where you live.”
“Didn’t see any reason not to tell them. They seemed like regular fellows, to me.”
“William,” exclaimed his mother, “you have put us all in danger. Those ruthless men could come to our house and kill us in our beds!”
Susan again burst into tears, and even Anne looked frightened.
