Page 11 of A Treacherous Treasure

“Good. Oh, I mean . . . forgive me.”

He did his best to hide his smile and changed the subject. “You said you were one of ten children?”

“Yes, my father was in business in London. I never lived outside the city until I married. But my father being in trade, I’m afraid my place in society was not very high, which was held against me by some.” She smiled, but in an amused way. “I thought I was a very fortunate woman when I married, but life was not as I imagined it would be. And now . . .” She sighed and stared at the floor again.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that she had been wronged by her unfaithful husband, and that her status in society was unimportant compared to her worth as a human being of good character. But of course, he said none of those things.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. Sometimes I’m too honest and open, I’m afraid.”

“Not at all. Honesty and openness are excellent traits, and you should not mind what some arrogant, cold-hearted people say or think.”

“Thank you.” She looked slightly embarrassed as her gaze flitted to the empty teapot in front of them. “And do you have siblings, Mr. Westbrook?”

“A younger brother and sister.”

“And do they live at home with you?”

“They do. However, my brother is leaving soon. He will be studying for the church.”

“And you are a lieutenant, I believe?”

“Was. I am recently back from the war, having sold my commission.”

How strange it was to be in Arthur Heywood’s house. It had been ten years since Thomas had set foot in the place. And now he was talking to Arthur’s widow as if they were friends after he saved her life from a would-be murderer.

Events in life were sometimes stranger than a book of fiction.

They talked of many things, including their favorite books and authors, the sermon their rector preached on Sunday, and their favorite places in London, all while Arthur Heywood’s body lay in the next room.

The time went by quickly and he was surprised when Mr. Fogg, the constable, arrived, as it didn’t seem as if he’d had enough time.

As they all greeted each other, he noticed that Mr. Fogg had to wipe a dribble of sweat off his temples. In fact, he wiped his forehead and upper lip too. Strange, on this cool winter day.

“I came right away,” Mr. Fogg said. “Are you hurt, Mrs. Heywood?”

“No.”

He asked her several questions and she told him the whole story. When she mentioned Thomas and said she was “so relieved when I saw he had a gun and would protect me,” he felt quite gratified.

“Has any effort been made to catch the man?”

“Not yet,” she said.

“I don’t mind going out and helping you look for him,” Thomas said. “We don’t want some madman running about the countryside shooting at people.”

“Yes, and we need to bring him to justice. Murderers in Derbyshire, shooting gentlemen and ladies on their own property. I don’t wish our county to have such a reputation.”

Thomas stood to go with the constable, thinking how ironic it was that he should be searching for Arthur Heywood’s killer, trying to bring him to justice.

“Take every precaution,” Mrs. Heywood said, looking genuinely concerned.

Certainly, Arthur did not deserve this woman for his wife. What a terrible man he was, to leave this woman, his lawful wife, at home to chase after other women.

But today he was supposed to be forgiving Arthur and not holding a grudge against him. Obviously, he had more work to do.

Chapter Four

Rebecca stared out the window, watching the clouds roll in like her gloomy thoughts. But letting her mind go down that dark tunnel would only make her more susceptible to her mother-in-law’s cruel words—she knew this from experience—so she tried to focus her thoughts on something more prudent and useful.