Page 113 of Murder at Donwell Abbey
“What?”
Emma winced. Mrs. Ford hadquitea loud screech.
“Ma’am, there’s no need to panic,” she said. “Mr. Clarke’s attention is focused on the smuggling gang, not on Highbury’s merchants. I promise you that.”
Mrs. Ford made an effort at composing herself. “Mrs. Knightley, what do you want me to say?”
“Only the truth. As you know, Mr. Larkins has been accused of murderandsmuggling. My husband and I are convinced that both charges are false. Naturally, the murder investigation is out of my … our hands, but I do think we can assist Mr. Clarke in ascertaining if there is evidence of smuggling in Highbury.” She gave Mrs. Ford an encouraging smile. “And who better to ask than you, who knows everyone in our village?”
Mrs. Ford’s chin tilted up, and she began to look unfortunately stubborn. “I’m still at a loss as to what you think I might know, Mrs. Knightley.”
Emma could be stubborn, too. “You deal with any number of merchants and suppliers, many of them in London. Have you ever seen any indication that they might be passing on smuggled goods to Highbury’s shopkeepers?”
Mrs. Ford stared back, obstreperously silent.
Miss Bates again touched her arm. “It’s for Mr. Larkins. You know he’s a fine man, and think of all the good he’s done for Donwell’s tenants. If we cannot help him, who knows what will happen?”
“He’ll end up on the gallows,” Emma grimly said.
“I know,” Mrs. Ford finally said. “And I do wish to help the poor man. All I can say is that if Mr. Larkins is involved in smuggling, I’ve heard no tale of it from the other shopkeepers in the village.”
“Nothing against him, not even rumors?” Emma asked, wanting to be sure.
“Not a word.”
“Thank you,” Emma replied. “Now, please don’t think I’m judging you, but is it possible that you may sometimes be in receipt of contraband goods from some of your suppliers? The quality of your merchandise is comparable to that found in many expensive London shops. How do you manage it?”
The woman grimaced. “Mrs. Knightley, you’re married to the local magistrate. I don’t know how to answer such a question.”
“My husband’sonlyinterest is in discovering who murdered Miss Parr and clearing Mr. Larkins’s name. I promise you, anything you tell me will go no further than Mr. Knightley.”
Of course, George probably wouldn’t approve of her making such promises, but Emma was convinced there was no other way.
“My lips will also remain forever sealed,” Miss Bates stoutly added.
Mrs. Ford cast her a dubious glance. Miss Bates had the least discretion of anyone in Highbury, with the possible exception of Mr. Weston.
The spinster held up a hand. “I vow on my father’s grave.”
The milliner blew out an exasperated breath. “Very well. I do wonder if one of my suppliers receives contraband goods, especially the Belgian lace and a few other items.” She pointed to the hats in the window. “The feathers, for one. You might have noticed the quality.”
Emma nodded. “I have. Is this a London supplier?”
“No, a peddler. He visits about four or five times a year, around the biggest market days. He sells to me and also sets up a stall in the square.”
Emma slowly nodded. “I think I know him.”
In fact, she’d bought lace and ribbons from the man on a few occasions. Mrs. Ford was correct—the quality of his goods was excellent.
“Does he ever mention where he sources his wares?” she asked.
“No,” Mrs. Ford reluctantly replied. “I suppose I should have pressed him more about that.”
“I could say the same about myself,” Emma candidly re plied. “I’ve bought his goods without giving it a second thought.”
The milliner gave her a grateful smile.
“Is there anyone else you can think of who might know something about smuggling in Highbury?” Emma asked.
