Page 156 of Murder at Donwell Abbey
Surely he couldnotbe that stupid.
“Surely you cannot be that stupid,” she said, ignoring the manic thud of her heart.
He shrugged with an eerie nonchalance. “I will do what I must.”
“Mr. Plumtree, if you’re as clever as you say you are, I suggest you be on your way. Helpwillarrive—”
Were those voices drifting up from the kitchen?
Yes!
She mustered a smile. “Ah. It seems help has finally arrived.”
The sound of distant shouts echoed along the corridor, confirming that hope.
Guy muttered aquitefoul curse. “You would appear to be correct, ma’am.”
“You might want to flee,” she helpfully said. “Might I suggest the front door? You have my word I won’t try to stop you.”
Not while he was holding her at knifepoint, at any rate.
“Oh, I’m going,” he snarled. “And you’re coming with me.”
“What?” She started to back away, almost tripping over her dratted boots.
“I have no intention of getting caught, and you will certainly prove useful as a hostage.”
He advanced on her, but she continued to scramble backward.
“Stop that,” he snapped, grabbing for her.
From behind him, a tall figure quietly loomed from the dark, then lunged and smashed something into the back of Guy’s skull.
The wretch crumpled to the floor at Emma’s feet.
Stunned, she stood there for a moment, gaping down at him. Then she looked up. The tall, great-coated figure resolved into Mr. Weston, pointing a shotgun at Guy.
“Is that what you hit him with?” she asked.
“Yes, the butt of my gun. The blasted villain’s lucky I didn’t shoot him, but I was afraid to take the risk of some of the shot hitting you.” He stepped forward. “Are you all right, dear?”
She sank into a conveniently situated armchair. “Yes, he … he didn’t hurt me.”
“Thank God. Forgive me, Emma. I should have been here sooner.”
“You arrived just in time.” She glanced down at the unconscious Guy. “I don’t think you need to keep your gun on him, though. It sounded like you split his head open.”
Mr. Weston scowled. “Better for everyone if I did. Gave me the shock of my life when Mrs. Hodges told me Guy Plumtree was pursuing you through the house like a blasted madman.”
“Is Mrs. Hodges all right?”
When he nodded, Emma sagged with relief.
“She and my footmen are putting out the fire,” he said. “Ah, he’s my fellow now. Everything all right, Sam?”
The man who joined them was Randalls’s senior footman. “Yes, sir. The fire is out. It was just the curtains. We got them down in quick order, and Mrs. Hodges is giving them a good soak.”
“Thank heavens.” Emma managed a smile. “I was worried I would burn the place down, but I couldn’t think what else to do.”
