A Relative Matter

by Karen Cogan

Anne followed Polly down the stairs.

  “Whatever is the matter?”

  Between sobs Polly said, “It is Mr. Tyler, miss.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Anne brushed past the girl and hurried to the kitchen. She supposed he must have been caught in the storm after all. Perhaps he had been thrown by his horse and knocked unconscious. He might have lain in a puddle for hours.

  She entered the kitchen, prepared to suggest warm drinks and bundling off to bed. Betsy stopped her at the door. “You must prepare yourself, miss. It is not a pretty sight. Perhaps you should sit down first.”

  Anne peered past Betsy’s sturdy shoulder to see Mr. Tyler laid out on the floor.

  “I do not want to sit. I want to know what is wrong with him. Was he caught in the storm?”

  “Not exactly, miss. He was shot.”

  “Shot?”

  Understanding did not immediately register in Anne’s mind. How could he be shot? He had gone riding across the fields, had he not? He was nowhere near the forest.

  She edged past Betsy to see the young groom kneeling beside Mr. Tyler.

  Her hand threw to her throat as she saw the large splotch of blood that stained the white rags they had applied to the wound in his chest.

  “We have tried to get the bleeding stopped. But he has lost a great deal of blood,” Betsy said.

  “Have you sent for the doctor?”

  Betsy nodded. “The ‘ostler went right away.”

  Anne knelt beside him. “Mr. Tyler can you hear me?”

  His eyelids flickered, but did not open. He was deathly pale.

  “They sent me out looking when he did not return this afternoon,” said Pete. “I found him lying wounded at the edge of the meadow.”

  “We should get him upstairs,” Anne said.

  Pete nodded.

  As gently as could be managed, Pete and the butler carried Mr. Tyler up the stairs. When they had settled him in bed, Anne pulled up a chair and sat beside him. According to Pete and Betsy, the bullet had gone through his chest and out under his shoulder blade. No one knew exactly how long he had lain on the ground before he was found.

  She watched the stain spread beneath the bandage and knew it was a grievous wound. His breathing was ragged and strained. Bubbles formed at his lips. The bullet had pierced his lung. She glanced at the clock and hoped the doctor could arrive in time to save him.

  The rain continued to pour, blocking the view of the trees, as though a gray curtain had been pulled about the house, shutting them off from the world and isolating them to bear their calamities alone. Would there ever be a time when she would not live with the constant fear of losing those she loved? Her spirits sank into doldrums that matched the relentless rain.

  After awhile he moved restlessly and opened his eyes. He reached weakly for her hand and said, “I do not believe he is my son. A son could not do this to his own father, do you think?”

  “Your son shot you?”

  He nodded. “It must have been. Remember the note. He threatened to make me sorry for not getting the boy out of his way. He is a cold man. Cold and cruel. He takes pity on no one. Jeremy is in great danger since he stands between the inheritance. The man will come for him again now.”

  Anne’s blood turned to ice. A man who was capable of murdering once would not hesitate to try it again. She must think of a way to protect Jeremy, find a place where he would be safe.

  Mr. Tyler slipped back into unconsciousness, his breathing shallow and labored, then so quiet that she could not tell if he was breathing at all. She had just clasped his wrist, trying desperately to feel his pulse, when the doctor bustled into the room.

  Anne stepped aside to let him examine the patient.

  After a moment, he stepped back, solemnly shaking his mop of white hair. “Maybe if I had got to him sooner. Yet with such a critical wound there was probably little I could have done.”

  “He is gone?”

  The doctor nodded.

  Tears welled in Anne’s eyes. She had known Mr. Tyler a very short time. Yet, in that time, she had become fond of the kindly gentleman and sorry for the circumstances that had almost laid waste to his life.

  She looked up to see Jeremy standing in the doorway. His blue eyes were wide with curiosity. “What is wrong with Mr. Tyler? Why is he sleeping so late in the day?”

  Anne rushed out to him, closing the door behind her. She glanced up at Betsy and Polly who were gathered in the hall.

  “Send word to Lord Westerfield that he is wanted as soon as he might arrive. And send to the village and inform the parson and magistrate of what has happened.”

  Betsy nodded her graying head and said, “Then Mr. Tyler….He is…?

  “Yes. Jeremy and I shall go and have a talk. You may show the doctor out when he is ready to leave.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Polly began to sob noisily and Betsy sent her downstairs.

  Anne led Jeremy toward his room.

  “Why is everyone so sad?” he asked.

  “Come in and I shall tell you.”

  Jeremy settled onto the floor and pulled the sleepy puppy onto his lap. He began to stroke the silky ears as he waited for Anne to explain. She hesitated, hating to break the news, yet knowing she must.

  “You know that we have been worried that Mr. Tyler’s son might pull a mischief?”

  “I remember. That is why I have not been permitted to leave the house.”

  “Yes. Well he is angry with his father, also. Today when Mr. Tyler went out riding, someone shot him. He believed it may have been his son.”

  Jeremy’s hand froze mid-stroke and he stared solemnly at Anne. “Is he going to be all right?”

  Anne blinked back a tear that threatened to slip down her cheek. “No, dear. He was too badly wounded. He died just a little while ago.”

  “And I did not get to tell him good-bye? It is not fair. Grandfather is gone and now Mr. Tyler.”

  After his burst of anger, he slumped over the puppy and began to cry. The little creature whined and licked his face. Anne put her arms around both of them.

  “I am so sorry. I know you liked him very well and so did I. But we must think of you now and how to keep you safe. Mr. Tyler’s last words were about you.”

  Jeremy looked up with pools of liquid in his blue eyes. “He thinks I am next, does he not, that I will die, too?”

  “No. He only wanted me to keep you safe.”

  “How will we do that?”

  “I do not know. But we will find a way. I have asked Lord Westerfield to come over. Perhaps he can help us.”

  She left Jeremy to mourn while she walked downstairs to lock all the windows and doors and inform the staff to be alert. Betsy had already begun preparing Mr. Tyler for burial. Anne knew that it would fall to her to arrange the ceremony.

  Anne and Jeremy ate little supper and spoke even less. They were tense. The obvious absence of Mr. Tyler made them conscious both of their loss and of the peril that lay beyond their walls.

  After supper Anne paced the house waiting for Lord Westerfield, who did not arrive until quite late.

  She met him in the entrance hall. He took her hands in his own and said, “I came as soon as I could. I was detained by the storm far out on one of my tenant’s land. I did not get home until a little while ago.”

  Her knees felt weak from forcing herself to carry on all day. Now, as the loss and strain caught up with her, she wilted into him, grateful for the support of his strong arms.

  He led her gently to the parlor and saw her safely settled on the settee. In a tone of utmost concern he said, “Are you ill? Is there something I may get for you? The doctor, perhaps?”

  “No. The doctor has already been here today, but not for me.”

  She buried her face in her hands and said, “It is too terrible. I do not know what we shall do.”

  He knelt beside her a
nd took her hands. “Pray tell me what has happened.”

  Anne relayed all that she knew about the attack on Mr. Tyler. When she finished, she noticed by the clench of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze that Lord Westerfield shared her anger and fear. Yet what could they do?

  He clenched his fist and said, “One thing for sure. The boy cannot keep hiding in the house all his life.”

  Anne stared at him in shock. “You would have me send him out, no matter the risk.”

  He looked chagrined. “Of course not. I only meant that we must find a way to flush out the murderer.”

  “How?”

  “We must make him believe that Jeremy is unguarded and may be caught alone.”

  “But we do not even know who the murderer is.”

  “That is why we must force him into the open.”

  “I will not allow Jeremy to be put at risk.”

  “Nor would I. But we know that Mr. Tyler’s son watches the grounds. Otherwise, he could not have shot his father. We will make a dummy in the height of a child and take him riding with me. If we are lucky, the fake Jeremy will be shot.”

  Anne nodded as understanding dawned upon her. “Then Tyler will feel it safe to come forward and claim the estate. After all, we cannot prove anything against him.”

  “Exactly right.”

  Anne brightened. “It is worth a try. I shall start on it first thing in the morning.”

  “And I shall return for a ride.”

  Westerfield kissed her tenderly and made her promise to get some rest.

  She locked up after him and went up to check on Jeremy. She found him wide-awake with his puppy lying on the end of his bed.

  “You have not gone to sleep yet?”

  “I am afraid of being murdered if I sleep. Maybe I should sleep on the secret stairs that lead behind Grandfather’s room.”

  Anne shivered. “I do not think that having you die of consumption would be a better way to solve this problem.”

  She ruffled his hair. “Besides, a dormouse might bite you on the toe.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Not if I had Duke with me.”

  “I do not think Duke would be happy on the dark stairs, either. You try to get some sleep. Lord Westerfield has come up with a plan for tomorrow.”

  Jeremy was intrigued with the idea of a dummy just like him and quickly offered to help with the stuffing. Anne was glad it gave him something to take his mind from the danger. By the time she left his room, his eyelids were closing in sleep.

  She trod to her own chambers and tried to rest. She dozed a bit and woke often, always listening for footsteps in the hall. Yet, she heard nothing but the whistling wind that blew incessantly throughout the night.

  In the morning, both the vicar and the constable arrived. Anne arranged a graveside service to be held in the church cemetery in two days. Later, she endured questions from the constable, who insisted upon interviewing everyone who had known Mr. Tyler, especially Pete, who had been the one to find him. Though he seemed especially suspicious of the boy, he found nothing of use when he finished his inquiry. They were no nearer to solving the crime than when he had begun.

  He promised to keep in touch and work toward locating young Mr. Tyler. Yet, with nothing to go on and no way to prove he was responsible for the crime, she feared the constable would soon grow weary with the case.

  While Anne was busy, Betsy and Polly began to sew and stuff the dummy. Jeremy brought his hat and his brightest clothes and fastened them carefully in place. When they were done, even Betsy, who was an excellent seamstress, declared it a good likeness.”

  Lord Westerfield arrived. He looked at their creation and down at Jeremy. “A perfect likeness, my boy, with a head filled with fluff.”

  Jeremy grinned up at him. “My head is not filled with fluff.”

  Lord Westerfield ruffled his hair. “Indeed it is not.”

  Anne caught the lord’s arm. “Now that we are ready, I am not so sure this is a good idea. What if you are shot?”

  “There is no reason to shoot me. He has nothing to gain. He has already proved that he is an excellent shot. If we are lucky, he will take the bait. Now, go about your business and keep Jeremy out of sight.”

  Jeremy thought it the greatest excitement. He paced and chattered and speculated upon when he would be shot. Anne felt her nerves strung tight and tried several times to get him to hush. She was unsuccessful until the arrival of company caused her to send him to the kitchen to pester Cook.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher, miss. I have shown them into the parlor,” said Polly.

  Anne felt in no frame of mind to endure the stream of neighbors who would begin drifting by to extend their sympathy. Yet, Mariah was her friend and welcome comfort even if she was accompanied by Troy.

  She found them standing in the parlor engaged in conversation. From their stiff stance and red faces she inferred that she had interrupted a disagreement. From what Mariah had told her, she assumed they endured a great many disputes.

  Mariah rushed forward. “We just heard about poor Mr. Tyler. How did it happen? Was it a hunting accident?”

  “I do not believe so. We think it was a deliberate act of murder.”

  Mariah’s eyes grew wide. “You told me about the danger, yet I can hardly believe such a thing could happen. Surely it is too horrible to be true.”

  “If I am to keep Jeremy safe, I must believe it.”

  Troy shook his head. “Surely you cannot believe that someone intends to harm the boy.”

  “I have every reason to believe it.”

  He frowned. “Then why do you not send him away. Surely it would be safer than keeping him here.”

  “Mr. Tyler thought so, too. But I do not believe it to be the best course. If he were discovered, there would be no one to look out for him.”

  Mariah nodded. “That is true, the poor dear.”

  Anne invited them to sit. Mariah then explained briefly to her husband the story behind the inheritance. When she concluded, he frowned and said, “Why do you assume it is the son who has killed Mr. Tyler? Surely it is possible he might have other enemies.”

  “That is true,” Anne agreed. “But they would have nothing to gain from his death.”

  Troy rubbed his chin and Anne noticed that he now sported a fashionable goatee. He studied her a moment as though mulling over the information and said, “No, I do not believe it that it is the son. It would be too obvious when he came to inherit. Do you not think it more likely that someone was blackmailing Mr. Tyler? Perhaps he was killed when he refused to pay.”

  Anne frowned. She had never thought of such a possibility. She wanted to believe it, because, then, Jeremy would be out of danger. And yet, the facts did not fit.

  She shook her head. “What about the tutor? Polly told us that when he was killed, she overhead a threat against my brother.”

  Troy laughed abruptly. “Polly is an imbecile of a girl. I would not believe all that she says.”

  Mariah shot him a disapproving glare. “I am sure Anne does not need to hear us criticize her choice of maids.”

  He sat back and rubbed his chin. “I am sorry. I shall stop intruding now and behave myself.”

  True to his word, he listened to the women and did not say another word until the end of the visit. Then he saluted smartly to the small figure in the doorway. Anne glanced up to see Jeremy framed there.

  Troy looked the boy up and down and said, “He looks healthy enough.”

  “And he shall stay that way,” Anne retorted.

  “Indeed, you are doing all that you can,” Mariah assured her. “It is time that we left or we shall surely wear you out.”

  As she saw her guests to the door, Anne wondered how Lord Westerfield had fared. It was two more hours before he returned, tired and hot with no sign of the killer.

  They withdrew to the drawing room to speak. Westerfield studied her worried face and said, “I am afraid it did not work this time, though I do not think
we should give up. Perhaps I shall try again tomorrow.”

  “The funeral for Lord Tyler is tomorrow. What shall I do with Jeremy? I dare not let him go and I do not want to leave him here with only the servants.”

  “We will take him back to my father. I can post some of the groomsmen to keep guard. Furthermore, no one will know he is there.”

  Anne nodded. “That would ease my mind since it would be a bit awkward if I did not attend the funeral.”

  “We shall both attend. But, first, we will drop Jeremy at Westerfield Manor.”

  She looked deeply into his dark eyes. “I do not know what I would do without you.”

  “You shall not have to try. I intend to share both your joys and troubles for the rest of your life.”

  He cupped her chin and leaned down to claim her lips in a gentle kiss. Anne savored the warmth of his mouth, the familiar scent of his cologne. He was like a safe oasis in a dry desert. She longed to cling to him and forget about the danger that lurked like a dark and unknown shadow. She knew as soon as he left, her sense of safety would evaporate and the fearful feelings would return.

  Moments later, he told her good-bye. He had to get back to his father and the account ledger that awaited his attention. All would be well, he assured her.

  “Keep your courage, my dearest. I will be back in the morning.”

  She bid him good-bye and then turned with a frown at the tumult emanating from the hall. She made straight for Jeremy to tell him he must keep the puppy quiet in the house when she saw the source of excitement.

  Jeremy dragged the dummy along the floor while the puppy pounced and barked and nipped at it with his sharp little teeth. Jeremy grinned in glee. When he saw Anne, he looked up and said, “See how he loves this game? It is better than tugging on a rope.”

  Anne stooped to pick up the puppy, which was quite an armful by now. He wriggled and squirmed and tried to return to the game. “Stop that at once. We may need that dummy again. Anyway, you do not want to teach the puppy to attack. He is a hunting dog, remember?”

  Jeremy jutted his chin. “Why is it when I am having fun I must always stop? You are often cross with me now.”

  Anne handed him the puppy. “I am sorry. How would you like to go and visit at Westerfield Manor again tomorrow?”

  Jeremy brightened. “I should like that. Lord Westerfield plays games with me. And he tells me all sorts of stories. He has been many places you know. He was even in India once.”

  Anne smiled at him. “Then you must have a great deal to talk about. Lord Westerfield and I shall drop you there in the morning before we go to the service for Mr. Tyler.”

  She handed Jeremy the silky, wriggling pup. “Take him upstairs, will you dear, and play with him in your room. I must take care of overseeing flowers for the church and gravesite.

  Anne spent the rest of the day making sure the details of the funeral were in order. The undertaker came for the body and all was set for the service in the morning. She still could not believe Mr. Tyler had passed so rapidly through their lives. Sometimes it seemed as though it all must be a dream. Yet, when she awakened the next morning, nothing had changed.

  The chill in her room made her wonder if it was going to be a damp day. She trod to the window and surveyed the overcast sky. In the distance, poplars swayed in the brisk breeze like a row of dancers.

  Anne shivered, dreading the dismal melancholy of burying poor Mr. Tyler during a drizzle. Yet, after the tragic events of his life, perhaps it was fitting that it be a rainy day when he was buried.

  Such cheerless thoughts brought tears to her eyes. She determined to shake herself from her gloom and rouse Jeremy. He must prepare for his trip to Westerfield Manor if they were going to leave within the next hour.

  She prodded Jeremy into getting dressed and summoned Pete to take Duke on his morning walk. Jeremy gave his hair a disinterested swipe and asked, “May I bring Duke? I do not want him to be lonely.”

  Anne picked up the brush and carefully groomed his wavy dark locks while he grimaced and tried to dodge out of her reach.

  “I do not think you had better bring him. It would not be polite to do so without an invitation. We can tie him outside the kitchen where he can watch Cook at her work.”

  Satisfied with her job, Anne replaced the brush upon the dresser. “It is only for part of the day. He will be fine.”

  They breakfasted on sticky buns, melon balls and ripe berries. Then they settled in the drawing room to wait upon Lord Westerfield.

  He was not long in coming. He appeared at the stroke of nine and greeted them cheerily. “How are my two favorite Tylers? I trust you both slept well.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “Duke woke me in the middle of the night. He needed to go out and poor Pete had to take him. I wish Duke could use a chamber pot.”

  Anne felt her cheeks grow hot with mortification. She turned to him and said, “Jeremy, of all the things to say! Surely you must know better.”

  Her chastisement would have been more effective had not Lord Westerfield collapsed into a fit of mirth, laughing so hard that he bent double and put his hand upon the chair for support. Jeremy grinned broadly as though he had made a fine joke and Anne, being out-numbered gave up her attempt at reprimand. She was, at least, comforted by the fact that they got on so well together.

  Anne collected her shawl and black crinoline bonnet that she had worn at Grandfather’s funeral. She felt dowdy in the black crepe dress and hoped that she would have no further reason to wear it.

  They boarded the carriage just as the sky released the moisture it had been holding. The rain splashed in fat drops that plopped upon the ground and the roof of the carriage.

  They left Jeremy off with Lord Westerfield, who was more than pleased with his company. Anne wished secretly that she might have stayed also. She had no desire to endure the sadness of the kind gentleman’s funeral. Yet with her own Lord Westerfield by her side, she would manage satisfactorily. She only hoped the rain would stop before they all trod out to the gravesite.

  CHAPTER TWELVE