“Tyndale’s the Fore-Overman. Why aren’t you listening to him?”
“Cutberth seems closer to the men.”
Thanks to Rachel, Truman now knew why that might be the case. “When did you last speak to him?”
“I just came from the offices.”
Rachel had mentioned that Wythe and Cutberth were being secretive, but Truman wasn’t sure how much importance to attach to that. Because of their work at the mine, they had a lot of things to talk about that they may not want the miners to overhear. It could be nothing more than that. “Go on…”
“He claims that many of the miners are upset with you over Ra-Miss McTavish. They’re talking about doing something to defend her honor.”
“Defend her honor!” Truman couldn’t believe it. “I was the one who had to defend her from them. They didn’t care a fig about her honor, or even her safety, when they were trying to drag her to the ground so they could throw up her skirts.”
“That was four men, Truman. Not all of them. And you’re the only one who’s actually bedded her. Hence the problem. I wish you would have left her to me instead of bringing her here. I could’ve used her as a sorter at the mine until they would accept her again.”
“You could have made her a sorter to begin with and didn’t.”
“I regret that. I truly do.”
If only Truman could believe him.… “You have never had any love for Rachel.”
“I don’t like her arrogance. She thinks she’s smarter than everyone else.”
“Because she is,” he said.
A muscle moved in Wythe’s cheek. “Be that as it may, now that you’re involved with her, they’re complaining about it. They’re saying it’s not enough that you can have every woman in your own class? You have to ruin Rachel?”
“I hope I don’t need to remind you that Rachel would never have been ruined if you hadn’t—”
He held up a hand. “I realize that. It was a mistake, one I’m not likely to forget since you publicly embarrassed me by banishing me from the house.”
“You earned that and more.”
“I may not be thrilled that you’ve taken up with a-a”—he seemed to note the warning look Truman gave him because he made an effort to curtail his comments—“woman so far beneath you, but I am still your cousin.”
“Then prove you have my best interests at heart.”
His eyes flashed with anger. “What do you think I’m doing here? I’m trying to warn you that this thing with Rachel is getting out of hand—in more ways than one. From what I can tell, you’ve grown besotted with her. You’ve certainly put her interests above mine. And now the villagers feel as if they have to defend one of their own. They’re saying you drove her father to the grave, then you took advantage of his pretty, defenseless daughter.”
Truman moved to his desk and picked up a paperweight, which he tossed from hand to hand. “And what do you think they’re going to do about it?”
“Who knows? Maybe they’ll set another fire, and maybe next time I won’t be around to drag you out.”
“I see.” The irony of Wythe being his savior never ceased to amaze Truman. “And did Cutberth tell you why he would be privy to the sentiment of the miners?”
Wythe remained agitated but stopped pacing. “What did you say?”
“Did he tell you that, as our loyal employee, he has secretly been working to start up a union?”
His cousin’s jaw dropped. “What? No! You can’t be serious.”
“I assure you I am. As steward, you didn’t notice anything?”
“Nothing, I swear it!”
Of course he’d be oblivious. He had his head in a bottle most of the time. And Truman had been just as preoccupied since the fire. The miners could have held union meetings on his own property at the beginning of each shift for all he knew.
“Now that you are aware, has Cutberth ever acted… oddly, in your opinion?”
“Never.” Wythe scowled. “Are you sure you have your facts straight?”
Truman put down the paperweight. “I doubt Rachel would lie about something like that.”
“How would she know what Cutberth is doing, Truman? Maybe she’s just trying to cast suspicion on anyone except her own family—”
“Even if her father set the fire, someone else paid him,” Truman said. “I don’t know a lot, but I know that the McTavishes came into some money after the fire. And they’ve been receiving additional payments ever since.”
“From whom?”
“Cutberth, for all we know. Maybe he even embezzled that money from Stanhope & Co.”
“Cutberth can’t be involved. What reason would he have to murder Katherine? Whoever killed her had to have come from London. It was probably someone she played false, maybe even the father of her unborn babe.”
Truman no longer believed her killer had come all the way from London—not since he’d learned about the money Jack McTavish had received to fire the manse. “No, the killer is here in Creswell.”
“It’s not Cutberth,” Wythe responded. “Cutberth wouldn’t hurt anyone—wouldn’t risk his job, his family.”
“Cutberth hasn’t been as careful about his job and family as you’d like to believe, dear cousin.”
“What does that mean?”
“Besides his union activities?” Maybe Truman should show him, see what his response might be. There might be a bit of truth to be gleaned from doing that. “I was heading out to speak with his wife. Why don’t you join me?”
Chapter 18
Jonas’s wife didn’t look anything like Truman remembered her. He’d seen her at a company picnic two summers ago but she’d aged so much since then he doubted he would’ve recognized her if she hadn’t been standing in her own doorway.
“Mrs. Cutberth?”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was no question she recognized him. But, of course, he expected to be recognized. He generally was. “Yes?”
“I wonder if you might spare my cousin and me a moment of your time.”
A baby cried in the house behind her. She barked an order for one of her older daughters to take the child into the other room so they could hear. “My husband isn’t home, my lord,” she responded when she turned back.