A Sibling's Interference

Chapter Three

Thankfully, Philippa did not press the issue as we climbed the stairs to the first floor. I hoped I had made my point and she wouldn't try to argue about it again. For now, at least.

I didn't enjoy using a harsh tone with my sister. Even though her opinion felt insulting, I knew she had good intentions. Certainly whatever problem had sent her to my door was weighing on her mind and affecting her behavior.

She refrained from sharing any further thoughts as I completed the tour of my home. In fact, Philippa had nothing to say at all. I suspected she was trying to punish me by giving me the silent treatment. We adjourned to the sitting room where tea had been brought up. My sister maintained her silence as she sipped the liquid.

If she thought it would frustrate me, she clearly didn't know me well.

It was easy to fill the silence with absolute nonsense. In fact, it was entertaining to invent ridiculous stories of the previous caretaker, who had absconded with what little of value had been left in the house. Naturally, I made him out to be a complete buffoon.

A few times, I thought Philippa was going to smile, but she maintained her stoic expression with a self-control I had to admire. I was exhausted by the time she retired for the night. A headache was forming behind my eyes as I made my way to my room where Davison waited for me.

"I am in no mood for a scolding," I told him bluntly. Though he had only been my valet for a short time, I knew him well enough to understand that he wasn't afraid to voice his thoughts. And in my current state, I had no patience for it. "This has been a difficult enough day as it is."

"Of course, sir," Davison responded promptly. "I would not presume to do so. There has been quite enough scolding within these walls today."

Warily, I eyed him as he approached. How much of my conversation with Philippa had he heard? Was he being sarcastic? Why was it so hard to read him sometimes?

He assisted me in removing my jacket and placed it to the side. "Did you have a chance to speak with Mr. Walton today?" was his next question.

"Briefly," I said with a sigh. "To be honest, I don't think we need to worry about footprints. No one has actually seen a person in the gardens. Maybe Mr. Fenton simply forgot he walked in that direction."

The gardener had to be near seventy years old at least, if not older. Ordinarily, I would have been concerned that his age made him a poor choice to bring the gardens back to life. Given that he was the only person to interview for the position, however, he had been hired. On the plus side, he had grown up in the area and had an obvious love for plants. Slowly yet surely, the garden was coming to life.

"I hope you will think twice about saying such a thing to Mr. Fenton," Davison said, his tone becoming stern. "He is a hard worker and there is nothing wrong with his memory. He knows where he has been in the garden. In any event, the footprints found were clearly larger than what one would expect from Mr. Fenton's shoe size."

Letting out a heavy sigh, I racked my brain for any other possible explanation. "Well, then, perhaps one of Mrs. Wallace's children is to blame. They have permission to explore as they see fit."

"Mr. Walton knows the difference between a child's footprint and that of a man."

Right. Of course he would. I was clearly too exhausted to think logically about this situation. "Why would anyone be sneaking around the garden?" I asked, sitting down to remove my boots. "Because if no one saw this person, it's safe to say they were trying to be discreet. There's nothing valuable here. And a poacher wouldn't find any animals near the house."

"A treasure hunter, perhaps."

"Treasure hunter? Oh, of course. I should have thought of that." I laughed until I saw that he wasn't smiling. Strange. That had been a joke, hadn't it? "You can't be serious! Who in their right mind would search for treasure at Pearsend?"