Page 57 of Murder at Donwell Abbey
Mrs. Hodges seemed to hold a small debate with herself before answering. “The fact is, ma’am, Mr. Larkins was in love with Prudence. That’s why he’s so despondent.”
It took Emma a moment to recover from her astonishment at such a revelation. “That’s really quite surprising. I thought him a confirmed bachelor, devoted to Donwell and nothing else. I used to tease Mr. Knightley that he spent more time with Larkins than with me.”
That Larkins, a middle-aged, taciturn man, would fall in love with a girl so young and so unlike him was indeed hard to fathom. Then again, she’d fallen in love with George, also a quiet man some years older than she was.
Mrs. Hodges shifted with discomfort. “I shouldn’t have said anything. The poor fellow would be mortified that I told anyone, much less the mistress.”
Emma held up a hand. “Believe me, I wouldn’t dream of violating the poor man’s privacy. My lips are forever sealed.”
The housekeeper flashed her a relieved smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Was Prudence aware of how he felt?”
Mrs. Hodges emphatically shook her head. “He was always careful and correct in his conduct toward her. I think she saw him more like an uncle. She was always very easy and open with him, which I think was part of the problem.”
Emma lifted an eyebrow. “In what way?”
The housekeeper hesitated, as if trying to find the right words.
“It’s just that Prudence was such a charmer—not that the girl was a flirt, or carried on with teasing a man. She was just so sweet and funny. And being away from home for the first time, I think Mr. Larkins made her feel safe. He watched out for her, you see.”
Emma nodded. “I think I understand. Her looks and sweet nature would make her rather irresistible.”
Mrs. Hodges sighed again. “That’s it, Mrs. Knightley. I’m certain Mr. Larkins wasn’t expecting to have feelings for the girl. But she seemed to draw him out of himself, if you know what I mean.”
“I do.”
“Not that he ever expected anything from Prudence,” Mrs. Hodges hastily added. “He knew the girl would never feel for him like that. Given their difference in age, and …”
“And the fact that he’s Irish Catholic?” Emma guessed.
The housekeeper made a face. “No one at Donwell gives a fig about that. Still, you know how some people are, Mrs. Knightley.”
Emma remembered some of the mutterings and mean-spirited comments when George had hired an Irishman—and a Catholic at that. Eventually, the locals had come to realize that Larkins was a fine man, and as dedicated to Donwell and its people as its owner was.
“Mrs. Hodges, are you the only person who knows how he felt about Prudence?”
“Yes, I’m certain of that.”
“Did you ever ask him about it?”
“Once, after I suspected how he was feeling. I’m responsible for the girls who work in the household, so I felt duty bound to ask him—for his sake as much for hers.”
Emma took in the rueful expression on the housekeeper’s face. “I’m guessing that went down a treat.”
“He told me I was daft if I thought he’d pester the girl, or think he was good enough for someone like her. He swore me never to say a word to Prudence or anyone else.” She sighed. “And here I am breaking my word, poor man.”
“Again, I won’t breathe a word to another soul, not even to my husband.”
“I’m obliged to you, ma’am.”
Now that Emma understood their estate steward’s odd behavior since the girl’s death, there was no need to draw further attention to it. What the poor man required now was peace and the time to recover from such a devastating blow.
“Mrs. Hodges, I think at this point the less said about Prudence, the better. You and Mr. Larkins would never engage in idle gossip, but we must be sure none of the other servants do, either. It would be most unfortunate if rumors were to originate here and then filter down to Highbury.”
The evolving situation, however, did make things a bit tricky for Emma, since any further investigations into Prudence’s death required both discretion and tact. Thank goodness she possessed a surfeit of both.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Mrs. Hodges. “The poor girl doesn’t deserve to have her good name bandied about, nor should anyone’s grief be made sport of.”
