Page 3 of A Treacherous Treasure

When she was finally in her bedroom, the sobs came, wracking her body. She sobbed until she couldn’t breathe, until she thought she would faint.

She lay across her bed, the tears still streaming from her eyes. She was a widow, with no children. Only twenty-two years old and her life was over.

Rebecca’s parents had ten children to provide for, so when the young and wealthy Mr. Arthur Heywood made her an offer of marriage, she could hardly have refused. Besides that, he was handsome and said such things that would turn any young girl’s head.

So many times her mother had said, “Rebecca, you are the prettiest of your sisters. You must marry well. Your family is depending on you.”

She was also the eldest daughter, having three older brothers who were going into the church, the army, and the law. They would likely never be rich, so it fell on Rebecca to raise her sisters’ chances of marrying well.

When Arthur came to her on bended knee, professing undying devotion, she truly believed he loved her. In the few weeks before they were married, he’d complimented her on everything from her teeth to her hair to her embroidery. She had enjoyed the compliments, not seeing them as empty flattery. He’d said nothing, after all, about her good character.

There were moments when she had doubts about his character—when she overheard him talking with other men about gambling and drinking and women—but she ignored her doubts. After all, her mother was thrilled with the match she’d made, and her sisters all said he was very handsome.

How foolish she had been.

And now it was over. Arthur was gone.

This couldn’t be happening. It must be a dream she’d soon wake from. But until she did wake from this dream, she had to be strong and do what needed to be done.

Many details would have to be dealt with, and even though Rebecca had heard a bit about what had to be done prior to a funeral—an undertaker or funeral furnisher had to be sent for, the house had to be draped in black cloth, mourners had to be hired—she did not know about all the arrangements that went along with the death of a family member. No one close to her had died since her grandparents when she was only a small child. But her mother would know what to do.

Rebecca rose from her bed and wrote a letter to her mother in London, begging her to come to her as soon as possible, even though Mother had only just left her a few weeks earlier, having stayed with Rebecca until she was physically recovered from losing her baby.

Mother was so calm, and she always knew what to do. But would she be able to come back so soon after her last visit?

She sent the letter by express courier while her mother-in-law’s voice could still be heard screaming and sobbing over Arthur’s body in the drawing room.

The constable arrived soon after. He’d brought with him one other man, and she watched them from the window.

The constable—Mr. Fogg was his name, if she remembered correctly—was tall with gray hair and a rather large belly. The man with him was probably the coroner, who was responsible for investigating murders and suspicious deaths.

They dismounted from their horses as one of the servants met them in front of the house. The three men walked toward the stables, probably to speak with whoever had found Arthur’s body.

Rebecca moved away from the window, weary to her bones, even though it was barely noon. To escape her mother-in-law’s grief, she went back up the stairs to her room, her legs aching with the effort.

It was certain to be a long day.

~ ~ ~

“I have sent word to the Justice of the Peace,” the constable, Mr. Fogg, said. “This is the coroner, Mr. Pursglove.”

Mr. Fogg was seated across from her, along with Mr. Pursglove, both staring intently at her. They had been wandering about the estate for an hour before coming into the house and asking for her.

The landowners of the county were responsible for taking a turn serving as the constable for one year at a time. But since most landowners would rather pay someone to take their year’s duty, Mr. Fogg had held the office for a few years now. As constable, he was responsible for investigating crimes happening in the area.

The coroner answered to the Justice of the Peace, who would call him in to investigate possible murders, which was just one of the coroner’s duties.

“Mrs. Heywood, did your husband have any enemies?”

“Not that I know of. That is . . .” Her face started to burn, and no doubt her cheeks were turning red. Why was this so difficult to say? It was not as if she had done anything wrong. But the shame was still there. “My husband was unfaithful to me with several women, most of whom had husbands.”

By the looks on the men’s faces, they already knew this. Of course. Everyone knew.

“Did he speak to you about anyone who wanted to kill him?” The constable was a large man with heavy jowls that hung down on either side of his mouth.

“No.” He rarely spoke to her at all for the last few months, since she lost the baby. “Was my husband killed in a duel?”

The two men looked at each other. Finally, the constable said, “We don’t think so.”