Page 29 of A Treacherous Treasure

By the time Mrs. Heywood left in her brother’s carriage, Rebecca actually cried a few tears watching them go, as she whispered, “Thank you, God, for the respite.”

Selfish or not, she was thankful the house would be peaceful and quiet now.

The map in her drawer was all but forgotten the next two days, as Rebecca met with the servants and tried to resume the duties she’d assumed her mother-in-law had taken care of. But she was finding, much to her dismay, that the accounts were in great disorder, and the housekeeper and butler had been left to do as they liked with regard to keeping records of expenses.

Arthur had been in charge of recording business matters as pertained to their tenants and their farms, and he had not written anything in the ledgers in months.

As the mother, so the son.

After two days of trying to unravel the accounts, she began to suspect that the servants were taking a little extra money for themselves from the weekly market money.

“Oh, Mother, I wish you were here,” she whispered at least once a day. Could she confront the servants about taking a little extra for themselves? Certainly she couldn’t without proof, and the account books were in too much disarray for that. Besides, the wages Mrs. Heywood was paying the servants was well below what her family paid theirs. They probably used their low wages as justification, if they were taking extra, and Rebecca wasn’t sure she blamed them.

Finally, after not hearing from the Westbrooks since before the funeral, she received an invitation to dine at Wyghtworth.

Rebecca dressed carefully and even had the servant help her with her hair.

Now that Mrs. Heywood was gone, the servants were beginning to treat her differently. The ones who had been very short and businesslike with her were suddenly smiling at her, nodding, and even giving her little compliments. The ones who seemed afraid all the time suddenly seemed much more at ease. And the butler and housekeeper gave her more deference, though they did treat her, sometimes, as if they thought her too young and inexperienced to know what she was doing.

They were mostly right.

But she was determined to change that. She would not fulfill her mother-in-law’s prophecy that she would allow the estate to go to ruin with mismanagement.

Too busy to think very much about her mother-in-law’s petty remarks, they nevertheless invaded her thoughts from time to time. But now she was going to dine with the Westbrooks. At least there she knew she would be treated kindly.

At the last minute, she remembered to get the map out of the drawer and take it with her.

She took the carriage to the Westbrooks’ for the first time, no longer afraid of inciting Mrs. Heywood’s wrath. But one thing she did have to consider was expense. She’d never thought much about the upkeep of the horses and the carriages, for her husband had owned three carriages of various styles and sizes, but now that she knew all the particulars of these expenses, she had more to consider than just her own comfort and whether it might rain.

And the funeral expenses had been extraordinary, almost a year’s income. Her mother-in-law had spared nothing to make her son’s funeral a memorable event for the few men who had actually attended it. At least for that she had been given a full account of expenses by the upholderer, who had arranged for all the many fees and hirings and furnishings, taking quite a tidy sum for his trouble.

But these bills had to be paid, and as far as she could tell, they had already been sent to the solicitor and he was taking care of those.

Mrs. Westbrook and Caroline greeted her as if she was an old friend, expressing their sympathy with a sincerity that she had not felt in the past week from all of the mourners and funeral attendees who had come to her house.

“My dear, you look tired,” Mrs. Westbrook said. “Come and sit with us while we wait for Thomas and Benjamin to return from shooting.”

The word “shooting” made her heart jump in her chest. Of course, she only meant that they had gone to shoot pheasants, or some such thing, but her mind had conjured up a picture of the man who had shot at her, then disappeared when Thomas Westbrook came with his gun.

The night before, she dreamed about someone shooting at her, forcing her to run away. But her legs had been so heavy, practically rooted to the ground, and she’d been so terrified she’d woken herself up in the middle of the night.

“Are you well?” Caroline asked.

“Let me get you a glass of wine,” Mrs. Westbrook said.

“I am well, I thank you. I have been quite occupied.”

“Oh, yes. How are you coming along now that Mrs. Heywood is gone and you have the complete run of the place?”

“Yes, we heard that Mrs. Heywood left for an extended visit with her brother,” Caroline said. “Nothing happens in this small country society that we don’t hear about.”

Why hadn’t Rebecca thought that she could ask Mrs. Westbrook for advice?

“Perhaps you can advise me on a few matters of household management. I have been anxiously awaiting my mother’s arrival, which has been delayed because of sickness in the family.”

“Oh, how egregious. Who is sick?”

“My younger brothers and sisters, but I have heard that they are all on the mend and my mother should be coming very soon. But you must be managing this estate, with Thomas’s help when he is home.”