George nodded. “We were, thanks to Mr. Clarke. Constable Sharpe was still inclined to hold Larkins on smuggling charges, but Clarke is satisfied that he was an innocent victim in all this. We were able to bring Larkins home with us. He’s now safely back at Donwell and most happy to be there.” He smiled at Emma. “He’s especially grateful to you, my dear, and will be presenting his thanks to you in person.”
“He would have been most welcome to join us tonight,” she replied. “If anyone deserves to be feted, it’s poor Larkins.”
“I did make that offer, but I suspect he’s feeling overwhelmed at the moment and in need of some peace and quiet. Mrs. Hodges has him well in hand, though. She will see to his comfort.”
“Dear Mr. Larkins,” exclaimed Miss Bates. “What a terrible trial for him. One quite wishes to throw him a party to make up for his dreadful experience.”
Emma was done with parties for a good while.
“And Mrs. Knightley also deserves to be feted,” added Miss Bates, beaming at her. “You have been so brave through all of this—a true Joan of Arc, or … or even a female St. George, slaying dragons. Your courage at the abbey that dreadful night! You’re an inspiration to all of us.”
Mr. Woodhouse held up his hands. “I beg you, my dear Hetty, do not encourage her. I do not approve of this new habit of investigating murders—or smuggling, for that matter.”
“Father, it’s not as if I go looking for murders to investigate,” Emma protested.
“I’m quite sure her investigating days are now over,” George firmly said. “Isn’t that right, my dear?”
She rounded her eyes at him. “Of course, dearest. And it’s not as if I was investigating in the conventional sense. Miss Bates and I simply happened to stumble upon the occasional clue, now and again.”
“Mrs. Knightley, you do not do yourself justice,” said Miss Bates. “You would make a splendid investigator. Except women aren’t supposed to be investigators, are they? I find it all rather confusing, because Mrs. Knightley is so much better at it than Constable Sharpe.”
Emma made a point of avoiding her husband’s ironic eye. “Thank you, ma’am. However, I believe the true hero in all of this is Henry. He was very brave in running to get Mr. Weston’s help.”
Isabella shuddered. “Yes, and he injured himself in the process. I still can barely sleep at night, thinking of him all alone in the cold and the dark.”
Henry rolled his eyes. “It was only a sprain, Mama, and I got up right away. It was stupid of me to fall in the first place.”
John hugged his son. “Nonsense, my boy. You were very brave, and we’re all very proud of you.”
“Indeed we are,” said George with a smile.
“I missed all the exciting bits, though,” Henry said. “Back at the abbey.”
“And a good thing, too.” Isabella glanced at the watch pinned to her waist. “Now, I think it’s time for you to be in bed, dear. It’s quite late.”
“But I want to hear all about the dastardly Guy,” the boy protested.
“You most decidedly do not,” his mother firmly replied. “John, tell Henry it’s time to go to bed.”
“Your mama’s right, my boy. Say good night to everyone and then it’s off to bed.”
Henry rolled his eyes and protested a bit more, but at his father’s prodding dutifully exchanged hugs with his grandfather and then Emma.
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” she whispered to him as she returned his embrace.
Her nephew beamed at her, and then let his father lead him off without further complaint.
After handing his son over to a waiting footman, John returned to sit next to Isabella.
“Now that Henry is safely out of the way,” said Emma, “please don’t keep us in suspense any longer. What did the evil Guy have to say for himself?”
George, who’d fetched himself a brandy, settled into the chair next to Emma. “Quite a bit, as it turned out. Between Plumtree’s testimony and the information supplied by the runner we hired, we now have what I think is a faithful and mostly complete picture of events.”
“I’m surprised to hear that,” Emma said. “I was convinced that Plumtree would try to blame everything on Harry or refuse to talk. Did he actually admit to killing Prudence?”
“He did.”
She frowned. “But wouldn’t that send him straight to the gallows? How could that be in his best interest?”
