Page 15 of A Treacherous Treasure

He did feel sorry for Arthur’s mother. He was sure she was genuinely sad and distraught over her son’s death. But he felt more sorry for Rebecca Heywood.

Chapter Five

Rebecca probably shouldn’t have accepted Mrs. Westbrook’s invitation to dinner, but she was so desperate to be out of the house and away from Mrs. Heywood’s oppressive, angry sorrow, she immediately wrote her acceptance on the back of the invitation and sent it back with the servant, hoping Mrs. Heywood wouldn’t realize anyone had even been there.

She also had to sneak out of the house without her mother-in-law knowing she was leaving, unless she wanted to hear more of her wild accusations.

Fortunately for Rebecca, Mrs. Heywood had flown into a screaming fit about the time Rebecca went to her room to change her clothes. The screaming had ended in hysterical sobbing, which ended with the footman helping her to her room, as she appeared to collapse when the housekeeper was trying to console her. And there she had remained until Rebecca left for Wyghtworth, the Westbrooks’ home.

She’d wanted to take the carriage, but Mrs. Heywood would certainly hear of it if she did, so she ended up taking her horse.

Though it would be dark on the way home, it was a short way to Wyghtworth. She would not encounter any murderers, as long as she stayed on the road. But even if she did, she could gallop away in a hurry.

And now, with Mrs. Westbrook treating her like a long-lost daughter, giving her all the compassion and warmth she longed for from her own mother, she was glad she came. It was worth all the wrath she might endure from Mrs. Heywood when she arrived back home.

Dinner was more comfortable than she might have imagined, with everyone treating her like a friend or family member instead of a stranger. She’d forgotten how that felt, having been much too long in the company of her mother-in-law. And while they ate and talked and smiled at each other’s stories, she even forgot, for a few minutes here and there, that her husband had been murdered the day before.

She never would have thought such a thing was possible.

At one point, his younger brother Benjamin said, “Thomas, you said you met Mrs. Heywood yesterday when she was taking a walk. What were you doing on the Heywood property?”

Thomas Westbrook glanced at Rebecca.

“Your brother was saving my life,” Rebecca said. Perhaps it sounded dramatic, but it was no less true. “And it was I who was on your brother’s estate, not the other way around.”

His family members were all staring at Thomas Westbrook. He had not told them, obviously, that he had been the one to save her from the shooter.

“Mrs. Heywood was being chased by a man who was shooting at her,” he said. “I heard gunshots and rode in that direction, and when the shooter saw me, he must have decided to run away.”

“Oh my!” his sister Caroline exclaimed. “Thomas is a hero.”

“He is indeed,” Rebecca said.

“Not at all.” Thomas shook his head.

“I believe I would be dead, or at least greatly injured now, if your brother had not been there.”

“Oh, Thomas.” His mother pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes watery.

Thomas cleared his throat. “I am very thankful I was there at the right time to help Mrs. Heywood.”

The table was quiet for a few moments. She dared to glance at Thomas Westbrook, but he was still not looking her way.

Caroline spoke up. “We are all thankful for that.” She smiled at Rebecca.

“You are all so kind.” Rebecca smiled back, but she still felt a bit numb, as if it were not real.

She already suspected that, even though Thomas had told his family that she’d been shot at, he had not told them about the buried treasure story, nor had he told them their theory that the treasure was the reason someone had shot and killed Arthur. She certainly was not about to mention it. She still remembered how adamant Arthur was that she never tell anyone.

She wondered at him telling her. But it was early in their marriage, the first month or so, when he was still treating her as if he cared for her.

After dinner, they retired to the music room. Caroline played a song, and when she was finished, she said, “There. Now you know what a poor musician I am.”

“You did very well. I saw nothing remiss in your playing at all.”

“Well, it is a simple song.”

Benjamin said with a broad grin, “It’s the only song she knows.”