Page 53 of A Treacherous Treasure

He stood slowly and awkwardly. “I thank you again, Mrs. Heywood, and I wish you good health and happiness.” He bowed and retreated.

When he was gone, Margaret said, in her usual straightforward way, “Somehow I can’t imagine him stealing a treasure or shooting anyone.”

Rebecca’s thoughts exactly. But she had once thought her husband loved her, so appearances were sometimes deceiving.

~ ~ ~

The next time Thomas Westbrook’s family came to call on her, he came with them, and Rebecca informed them of Gilbert Heywood’s declaration and wish to purchase Heywood House.

“That makes him seem all the more guilty,” Thomas said, “because how else would Strader and Fogg know of his intention to purchase the estate?”

“Perhaps they guessed as much,” Rebecca said. “Or perhaps they heard a rumor that he wished to purchase it for his heirs.”

“He doesn’t have any heirs.”

“No, but he intends to have heirs, someday.”

“It seems quite coincidental.”

“You may be right, but I do not wish to accuse him if he is innocent. He seemed quite sincere in wanting it for his heirs, and to keep it in the Heywood family.”

“Neither do I wish to accuse an innocent man, but you must see the possibility that he wants the estate so he can get at the treasure.”

“The estate is surely of more value than one chest of gold.”

“It depends on the size of the chest.”

Rebecca imagined she saw an amused twinkle in Thomas’s eye. She tried to turn her amusement into a frown. “That is true, of course.”

“You shouldn’t trust Gilbert Heywood,” Benjamin interjected. “We don’t want him to take the estate through some kind of trickery.”

“Trickery?” Rebecca’s stomach sank. Of course, Arthur’s family would take the estate from her if they could. She already knew how angry it made her mother-in-law that she was inheriting the estate.

“As long as Arthur’s last will was done legally and in order,” Thomas said, “stating that you were to inherit, then no trickery should be able to change that.”

“I just hope you will tell us if anyone tries to intimidate you into selling,” Benjamin said.

“I will.”

Benjamin was staring at her, an intense, almost pained look on his face. What could she say that would deter him from thinking of her the way he was obviously thinking?

“I am happy to live here quite alone, with occasional visits from my family, for a long time. I suppose it’s no surprise to anyone that my marriage was not a happy one, and I am not eager to enter into another marriage for a very long time.” She emphasizedvery.

There. That should give Benjamin the hint. But had she said too much and been too pointed in her remarks? Would his feelings be injured, knowing that she meant to put him off? She was often a little too honest and not very subtle.

Everyone was looking at her. Had she embarrassed Benjamin? Would his mother and Thomas hate her now? She felt her cheeks start to burn.

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Westbrook said gently. “No one blames you for wanting to live alone for a while. You have been through a painful trial, and it is no wonder you are not ready to make any sudden changes. Of course.”

Rebecca could have been imagining it, but she felt a collective sigh as the tension in the room eased a bit. But when she finally dared to glance in Benjamin’s direction, he was staring at the wall, a bit of heightened color in his cheeks.

She had hurt him. But it was better to hurt him now, while his feelings were new and hopefully not very strong, than later.

She certainly would not marry a man just to keep from injuring his sensibilities.

She would marry again, someone good and kind, whose values were the same as hers, mostly because she still wanted children. A family. And when she had her children, she would not send them away to be raised by others, as was the custom of wealthy families. Even her own mother sent her children away to the country for a few years when they were still babies, Rebecca included, to be raised in the fresh air of a farm. Rebecca could still remember waking up to the sound of chickens and birds in the morning, and of Mrs. Withers, the farmer’s wife, who wasn’t affectionate or loving, telling her to get up and get dressed.

Rebecca wanted that voice to be hers when her babies awoke in the morning. She wanted to kiss their cheeks every day, to be the smiling face they saw every night when they closed their eyes. Her heart ached for that, to make sure her little girls and little boys knew, every minute of every day, that she loved them. Then she would be satisfied.