Page 153 of Murder at Donwell Abbey
Emma stared at him in disbelief. “You’re holding a pistol on us.”
He shrugged. “A necessity until we can figure out what to do with you. Now, please do sit, ladies.”
Emma and Mrs. Hodges pulled out chairs from the kitchen table and sat next to each other.
“I don’t have to figure out what I’m doing,” Harry said as he leaned the shotgun up against the fireplace. He swiped up his greatcoat and shrugged back into it. “I’m done with it all. I’ve got all the blunt I need, so you won’t be seeing me again.”
Guy scoffed. “Your father won’t like that, I’d wager.”
“I don’t care what that hellhound thinks. I’ve done more than enough for him, what with spending two years in this moldy old pile, always at his beck and call.”
Emma gaped at him. “You’ve been operating out of Donwell Abbey for two years?”
“That’s no business of yours,” he snapped.
“Harry, your lack of manners is truly appalling,” Guy said as he moved around to the opposite side of the table.
He pulled out a chair and took a seat across from them, his pistol now trained on Emma.
“Of course it’s your business, ma’am,” he said in a genial tone. “To answer your question, Harry took the job at Donwell Abbey to oversee his father’s smuggling operations in this part of Surrey. One must give Mr. Trotman a great deal of credit for setting up and maintaining such a successful venture for so many years.” He glanced at Harry. “I’m sure he’ll be most disappointed to hear you won’t be following in his footsteps.”
Emma gasped as illumination struck. “Harry’s father was the one who stored his contraband at the Crown Inn. He had an arrangement with Mr. Stokes.”
Guy nodded. “Very perceptive of you, Mrs. Knightley. It was apparently a lucrative arrangement for all involved. Unfortunately, Mrs. Stokes put an end to it when her dear husband shuffled off this mortal coil.”
Emma stared at him, doing her best to ignore the weapon pointed right at her chest. She simply had to keep him talking until Mr. Weston and his men arrived.
“And what about the church?” she asked. “And Mr. Barlowe? What is his part in all of this?”
“Dear, silly Barlowe,” responded Guy with a snort. “He has no involvement at all in this, Mrs. Knightley. Our merry band of smugglers ceased using the bell tower as our principal depot almost a year ago.” He leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “We found a much better place to hide them, much more out of the way.”
She blinked. “Donwell Abbey. After my husband moved to Hartfield.”
“A clever lady, indeed,” he replied in an admiring tone. “Yes, we needed something more secure. Given the minimal staff at the abbey—not to mention the fact that Harry was already living here—it made for the perfect depot along our route. Until Prudence was about to ruin everything like the silly girl that she was. She gave me no choice, really.”
“God help us,” whispered Mrs. Hodges.
Emma forced down the queasy sensation gripping her throat. “But how did Prudence find out about all this in the first place?”
Guy gestured at Harry. “Blame him. He was courting the girl and couldn’t keep his fool mouth shut.”
Harry cast him a murderous glare. “Prudence and me was going to get married good and proper. But you had to ruin it, didn’t you?Youkilled her and made a mess of everything.”
“You were the one who ruined it, dear fellow. I know you and Prudence had your little plans to run away up north, but unfortunately for you the girl was honest—a character flaw you should have anticipated.”
Emma was still trying to absorb this astounding revelation. It was difficult to do with a pistol aimed at one’s heart. “But Harry denied being involved with Prudence.”
The footman barely spared her a glance. “Her father would never have approved, so we kept it secret.”
“And no wonder,” exclaimed an outraged Mrs. Hodges. “Since you’re a common criminal.”
“Shut your gob, you old fool.” Then Harry narrowed his gaze on Guy. “And you shut your gob, too. You’ll get us hanged, you will.”
Guy pondered that comment for a few moments, as if working through to some sort of conclusion. “At this point, I should think you’d have realized it doesn’t matter what I tell them.”
A deadly stillness settled over Emma. She had to swallow twice before she could reply. “Because you’re going to kill us.”
Mrs. Hodges gasped and covered her mouth.
