As I ventured out of my bedroom, the hallway was still and silent. The doors to the other bedrooms on that floor were closed. I went down the stairs to the first floor.

Candles were lit in the sitting room in readiness for our guests, but no one was there. Not wanting to wait idly for my sister, I decided to descend to the ground floor instead.

In the dining room, the maid was putting the finishing touches on the table. "How are you this evening, Molly?" I asked, glancing over everything. It looked well enough in my opinion.

"I'm fine, sir," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Mrs. Wallace isn't making you serve tonight, is she?" I asked with sudden alarm. It had completely slipped my mind to speak to the housekeeper about Molly's shyness.

The girl shook her head. "No, sir," she told me. "Mrs. Wallace wants me in the kitchen with her. Mr. Davison will do the carrying in and stay in the dining room to pour the wine."

I tried not to breathe a sigh of relief but even she looked pleased with this new arrangement. Perhaps there was no reason to dismiss her if we could just work around her shyness. After all, the second maid, Lizzie, would be old enough to answer the door and the like.

There was a knock at the door. Since I was only a few feet away, I headed to open it myself. Davison had enough on his hands without having to worry about admitting guests.

Talbot and Walton were on the other side, and both looked surprised when I greeted them. "Good evening, gentlemen," I greeted. "Please come in. I assume you've been introduced?"

"We met in the lane," Talbot responded, removing his hat. "I hope all is well here? Miss Bywood is well?"

It was evident that his main concern was my sister, despite her anger towards him.

"Oh, yes," I assured him. Feeling rather foolish, I collected their hats and jackets from them. Then, not knowing what I was supposed to do with them, I put them on the side table against the wall. Hopefully, Molly or Davison would put them away correctly.

"We will be an odd number tonight, but since this is just an informal meal among friends, I hope no one minds," I said over my shoulder as I led the two men up the stairs. "It distressed my sister when she learned of it."

"Miss Bywood is an excellent hostess," Talbot remarked in a low voice.

I glanced back at him, but his expression remained unreadable. "Our mother certainly taught her well," I agreed, though perhaps I should have just pretended I didn't hear him. "All of my sisters are known for their hospitality."

Just like our mother. How many times had Mama gone out of her way to make sure her guests were happy and had everything they needed? An invitation to her dinner parties was a privilege for all who received it.

When would she be able to have another party?

"Is something wrong, Mr. Bywood?" Mr. Walton asked, his tone hesitant. We had reached the drawing room.

Pushing aside my anxious thoughts, I redirected my attention to the present. "I was just reminded of my mother," I informed him. "She had a riding accident earlier this year and I hope she will be able to be hostess for her own dinner parties again soon."

He nodded in understanding. "I was led to believe that Mrs. Bywood was likely to be bound to her bed from the accident," Talbot commented as he walked around the room. "She was ill for some time. It is remarkable that she has been so active these past few weeks in spite of her condition."

How dare he say such a thing? Remarkable? Bound to her bed? I bristled with anger, struggling to keep my composure. "Mrs. George Bywood may have wanted people to believe that," I said, "but my sister-in-law was mistaken about my mother's condition. While she may not be able to ride again, my mother will reign over her household soon enough."

Talbot raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. "I did not mean to offend." His expression became painted. "It seems I do so too easily of late."

Mr. Walton coughed lightly to get our attention. "Today's weather was quite pleasant," he remarked, completely changing the subject. "Were either of you able to enjoy it?"

He was doing what I, the host, should have been doing. Feeling ashamed of my negligence, I replied, "I'm afraid not. I was studying the mistakes of the previous owners and trying to make sense of them."

"It's not like you to set yourself an impossible task," Mr. Walton said, lightly. His smile told me he was teasing. "Those books are not meant to be understood by anyone. Not even the men who wrote them understood them or they wouldn't have fallen into such ruin!"

"I must do something with my time. Perhaps I should search for that treasure I've been hearing so much about lately." I waved them towards the chairs. "Do sit down, gentlemen. The rest of our group will be joining us shortly. Can I offer anyone a drink?"

Both of them accepted and I moved to the side of the room. I hoped Philippa and Mr. Jennings would make their appearance soon! Being a host was far different from being a guest.

Talbot perched gingerly on the edge of a chair. He must have remembered how the chair in the library had creaked! "You certainly have an interesting home, Mr. Bywood. Is it true you won it in a game of cards?"

Was I imagining the note of disapproval?

"It's true," I acknowledged with a nod. There was no point in trying to explain the complicated circumstances surrounding the card game. He wouldn't have believed it. "Mr. Dunbar was eager to be rid of it."

"He ought to have sold it then. t would have been better for him to make a profit instead of losing it all in a gamble."

"I doubt he would have been able to find a buyer for Pearsend given the condition it was in," Mr. Walton commented. Out of everyone present, he was the most familiar with the state of Pearsend had been in. "The repairs alone would require someone with significant wealth, and those who have it are usually hesitant to invest in such a place."

"Pearsend's problems certainly require a creative approach," I agreed. "But it is a challenge I'm ready for. Well, it doesn't matter if I'm ready or not. Here I am!"

Any reply that Talbot might have given was interrupted by Philippa's arrival. While she had changed into a pale blue gown, she hadn't gone so far as to put on gloves as she would for a formal dinner. "Good evening, gentlemen," she said, keeping her gaze everywhere but Talbot. "I hope I did not keep you waiting."

"Not at all, Philly," I informed her. "Would you like something to drink while we wait for Mr. Jennings?"

As I expected, she requested madeira, something I'd noticed she favored back at home. I poured her a glass and she moved to sit as far away from Mr. Talbot as possible. Despite the smile on her face, her eyes showed hints of annoyance.

No doubt she intended to have words with me later on. Well, she needed to learn that things did not always go her way and sometimes all we have to do things we don't enjoy

"Mr. Jennings," Davison announced in the doorway.

As Mr. Jennings strode into the room, he greeted us with a polite "Good evening." He had swapped his daytime attire for more formal evening wear: black breeches, a vibrant waistcoat with orange and gold stripes, and a tailcoat. His cravat was tied in an intricate knot that felt out of place for our casual country gathering. After all, we were keeping country hours.

As my sister had already been introduced to everyone else in the room, I only had to make Talbot known to the vicar. An uneasy silence filled the room once that was accomplished, and I searched my brain for some topic of conversation. Something that was not too lengthy, but would fill the time before dinner.

Maybe this dinner idea had not been such a great plan on my part.

Davison appeared in the doorway once again before I could say anything. "Dinner is served," he announced gravely.

~*~

To my relief, Davison had arranged that all the food was on the table. There would be no formal change of courses, which suited the atmosphere of the evening. He positioned himself against the wall, ready to refill our drinks as necessary.

The table had been made as small as possible. The one formality I had ensured was assigning each person a seat. Philippa sat at the end of the table, where she had wanted, with Mr. Walton on her right and Mr. Jennings on her left. On my right sat Mr. Talbot, but the seat to my left remained unoccupied.

There was no doubt that the table was unbalanced. The sight made Philippa flinch. Fortunately, she kept from commenting, which must have taken a great deal of effort on her part.

Davison made his way around the room, carefully filling each person's glass with wine. He was the epitome of formality and politeness.

"Mr. Talbot, how was your journey here?" I asked to get the conversation started. It wasn't the most interesting topic, but it was something. "Did you travel by coach?"

His blue-gray gaze briefly landed on my sister who was determinedly avoiding his gaze. "I thought my task an urgent one, so I didn't hire a coach. I rode my horse Thunder here, which ensured I was able to make good time."

Had he really been so concerned for Philippa he had raced to find her? I never would have thought him capable of such strong emotions. Was I to feel offended he worried about Philippa coming to my new home, or should I applaud him for taking action?

"That seems like a horrible way to use your horse," Philippa spoke up, still not looking at the man. "I have often said the way a person treats animals is a reflection of how they will treat others in their life."

I had never heard her say such a thing in my life. There was probably some truth to Philippa's statement, but I wasn't entirely convinced it applied in this situation. Was the silly chit trying to provoke an argument?

Talbot's face grew flushed and his posture stiffened. "Horses are meant to be ridden, Miss Bywood," Mr. Walton commented, his tone calm and soothing. "It is not that great a distance from Pearsend to your home, is it?"

"While I have not made the journey myself, I don't think it is that far to Bywood Hall," I said quickly. "If I remember correctly, there are different roads that make the distance shorter than the mail coach would take. A good horse would not find it too difficult a task."

"I am impressed with the stamina of horses," Mr. Jennings commented. "How fast they run! Not that I attend any horse races myself, but it is a marvel what God's creatures can do."

"Earlier this year, Mr. Ward and I had a friendly race to prove which of our horses was superior," I informed him. I glanced over at Talbot. "Perhaps you should have joined in, Mr. Talbot and settled the dispute for us."

Although it was meant as a joke, Talbot remained serious and shook his head. "I have never proclaimed myself or my horse to be any kind of racer. As long as I get to where I need to be, I am satisfied. I do not need to be the first or the best."

Well. A friendly race was not in our future. Even if it had been proposed in good humor.

Philippa finally looked up and fixed her stare on Talbot. "Are you afraid you will be shown inferior? Or do you simply not like that the outcome would have been outside of your control?"

For a moment, the man simply looked at her. Then, he dropped his gaze to his plate and took a bite of boiled potatoes. Oh, dear. Perhaps making the table small had been a bad idea. This whole thing had been a bad idea.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Walton spoke up, "I had a chance to speak to the steward of Woodsworth Manor, your neighbor to the south. He told me that many of the tenants there have been talking about the treasure of Pearsend of late. While he admits it's a recurring tale, he claims it's been discussed more frequently than he can remember them doing in the last few years."

Well. This topic was certainly more interesting than the usual small talk about the weather. "So the person trespassing could be anyone in the neighborhood?" I asked. "That's not exactly encouraging."

Mr. Jennings shook his head in disbelief. "I can't fathom how anyone could fall for such an unbelievable story

"It is a ridiculous tale," Mr. Talbot said, his expression serious. "I can't believe that anyone other than a child would believe such a fantasy."

Philippa's chin came up. "I think it would be wonderful if it were true," she declared, a stubborn note in her voice. "Just think, Lucas! You wouldn't have to worry about the cost of repairing Pearsend if you were to find the treasure."

"I'm not worrying as it is," I told her calmly. "As Mr. Talbot said, it is too outlandish to be taken seriously. But maybe some people like to believe in ridiculous things? It might help them get through the mundane routine of daily life."

"I've just realized, this may explain some of the damage that had to be fixed before you came, Mr. Bywood," Mr. Walton exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I did wonder why there were holes in some of the bedroom floors. Perhaps people were searching for the treasure there."

"We should make a list of all the places where treasure could be hidden, and then make a proper search ourselves," Philippa said eagerly, eyes shining. "We could make a game of it!"

Talbot briefly looked up from his meal, but quickly returned his attention to it. Whatever he'd thought to say, he kept to himself. A pity. I would have liked to know what he was thinking. Did he agree with me that Philippa's proposed scheme was a foolhardy one?

"I don't think that would be a very good idea, Miss Bywood," Mr. Walton said. "As we've said, it is a wild tale. I would hate for anyone to get injured while searching for something that doesn't even exist."

"There must be something hidden," she insisted, her stubbornness reflected in her tone. "Otherwise, how could a rumor like this even start?"

Mr. Jennings shook his head. "Miss Bywood, I mean this kindly, but you know that rumors can be started from nothing," he said to her. "Misunderstandings, or misheard statements, have been the cause of many individuals being unfairly gossiped about. It is a regrettable flaw in human nature."

For a moment, I thought Philippa would continue to argue, but the mulish expression faded. "Well, alright then," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I thought it would be something fun for us to do while we are here."

"What? You don't think the books in the library will hold your attention for long?" I teased.

My sister scrunched up her nose in distaste. "I didn't come all this way to read some dusty old books. Unless they are the latest novels, which I highly doubt they are."

"Oh. I thought you'd found some that caught your attention earlier today." There had been a stack of books on the desk that I hadn't put there. If she hadn't picked them out...

"I have not stepped foot in your library," Philippa declared. "There's nothing interesting there. Most of the shelves are empty, aren't they?"

She hadn't been in the library but someone had. My gaze went to Davison. Would he understand my unspoken question? What I wanted him to do, but didn't want to speak out loud? There was no reason to alarm everyone for something that probably had a reasonable explanation.

With a nod, Davison set down the decanter of wine and withdrew from the room.