Page 74 of Murder at Donwell Abbey
Emma frowned. “What time is it?”
“Just past three o’clock.”
No one should be about at this hour, certainly not on Donwell’s grounds.
“What did you hear?”
“There were scraping noises, like … like something being dragged over the stones. That’s what woke me up. Then I looked out the window and saw lights in the garden.” Henry cast a nervous glance down the darkened hallway. “Do you think it might be a … a ghost?Herghost?”
Emma gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Absolutely not. But shall we go to your bedroom and take a look?”
They crossed the hall to his bedroom. Since he’d pulled back the curtains, the room wasn’t entirely dark. Emma followed him to the window and peered out into the garden. There was no moon tonight, but the sky was clear and full of stars. The snow-covered lawn gleamed like an ice-covered pond. The bushes were misshapen blots against the white, with the trees stretching their bare limbs to the night sky. It was a forbidding landscape, one entirely empty of life.
“Are you sure you saw lights?” she asked.
He pointed to the left, toward the kitchen and service rooms. “Yes. Just over there, then they disappeared.”
She thought for a moment. There was no harm in looking into what it might have been, more to reassure Henry than anything else. Perhaps one of the servants had been up late—a groom, possibly. Although what they would be doing tramping around the garden in the middle of the night was hard to fathom.
Emma took her nephew’s hand. “Why don’t we go down to the long gallery? We can see almost the entire garden from there.”
“Should we wake Uncle George?” he asked, sounding a trifle anxious.
“I don’t think so, dear. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”
Besides, if there were something amiss, she would send Henry running back to fetch George. But she felt confident they were perfectly safe within the strong walls of Donwell Abbey.
They made their way down the shadowed staircase lit by Henry’s flickering candle and crossed the great hall into the long gallery. There, the windows ran the entire length of one side of the gallery, affording a look into the garden.
They again saw under the starry canopy no evidence of life but for the tracks of a deer across the snow-crusted lawn.
“I don’t see anything,” Emma said.
He grabbed her arm and pointed. “Look, over there.”
Was that a flicker of light near the old footpath that ran across Donwell’s grounds? Yes, it was, and it seemed to be movingawayfrom the abbey. Emma hurried down the gallery toward the kitchen to get a better view. At the last window, she stretched up on her toes, trying to see over the shrubbery that partially blocked her sightline.
There it was again.Twolights if she wasn’t mistaken— lanterns most likely, and they were definitely near the old footpath.
“Do you see it now?” Henry whispered.
“I do. And I cannot imagine what they’re doing on Donwell lands at this hour.”
He tugged on her sleeve. “Perhaps we should get Uncle George now.”
“Drat,” she muttered.
Though the lights had moved out of sight, she might still be able to catch a glimpse of them again from the kitchen. Not that she had any intention of stumbling out into the snow, but if anyone had been near the house there would likely be tracks visible from the kitchen doorway.
“Auntie Emma?”
She flashed him a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine, dear. I’m sure they’re quite far away by now, but I want to see if someone has come tromping around the back of the house. Then, if there’s any cause for concern, we’ll wake up Uncle George.”
Henry gave her a dubious glance but followed her down the service stairs to the kitchen.
“You’re only wearing slippers and a robe,” he said. “Your feet will get wet if you go out.”
“There are cloaks by the back door, and some clogs stored there as—”
