A Sibling's Interference

Chapter Fifteen

Before I had a chance to react, Mr. Walton called out again, "Mr. Bywood!"

"That sounds serious," Miss Darkin commented, her brow furrowing.

"I'm afraid it does." I sprang up from my chair and hurried to the door, calling out, "I'm coming, Mr. Walton!"

What could have happened? Why was he shouting in the house and no one had reprimanded him? I flung open the door and hurried into the entrance hall.

As I approached the front entrance, I saw my steward and an unfamiliar burly man were struggling to keep hold of a young man. However, the raggedly dressed man was fighting to get free. "Let me go!" he snarled. "You can't keep me here!"

"What is going on here?" I demanded. "Who is this?"

"We found him lurking near the stables, sir," the unfamiliar man reported, his tone stern. I assumed he was the groom Sir George had sent over. "He attempted to flee when he saw us. I haven't been able to get any answers out of him."

Was this the treasure hunter, or the man who had hidden the pistol? "Who are you?" I asked, focusing on the man. He appeared to be around the same age as Mr. Walton and me, though there was a hard edge in his face.

"I don't have to tell you anything," the man snapped. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miss Darkin enter the room. Thankfully, she remained quiet as she observed the scene. In that, she was the exact opposite of my sister.

"How are we supposed to know you haven't done anything?" Timmons asked, giving the intruder a rough shake. "No innocent person creeps around another person's property and then runs when they're seen. What are you doing here?"

"Maybe I was looking for work!" the man protested vehemently. "Did you think of that?"

"If you were really seeking a position, you would have come to the house," I pointed out. "I have no objection to people crossing the fields or pastures, but I do not approve of anyone creeping around my stables or my home."

The young man sneered. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll send for the magistrate. For all I know, you're a poacher." I turned to where Davison was waiting against the wall. "Have Billy saddle Phaeton and ride to the magistrate's house."

Davison nodded. "I'll take care of it immediately, Mr. Bywood." He retreated from the hall in the direction of the kitchen.

As I faced him once more, the young man's previous defiance and belligerence had vanished from his expression. "I'm not a poacher!" he protested, fear making his voice tremble. "I don't deserve to be hanged for a crime I didn't do!"

"That is for the magistrate to decide," I informed him. I paused and then added, "Unless you want to tell me who you are and what you're doing on my property."

For a moment, I thought he was going to continue to refuse. Then, his shoulders slumped. "Ben Swanson," he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. "I'm not a poacher. You can ask anyone and they'll tell you the same thing."

"That wasn't the question," Mr. Walton told him sharply. "What are you doing at Peasend?"

At the same time, Mr. Timmons said, "The Swansons are farmers just south of here. Generally considered good people. They'll be appalled to know their son has landed in trouble."

"I haven't landed myself in anything!" Ben Swanson protested vehemently. "You have nothing on me."

"Why were you near the stables in the first place?" I demanded. "You have no business being there. If you were really looking for work, you wouldn't have gone to the stables. You would have come to the house."