Mistress of Merrivale (21 page)

Everything Mrs. Allenby said was true. When…when Leo was gone, Merrivale would belong to her. Melburn was Leo’s nearest kin, and she was confident he’d allow her to remain in the house. Yes, they were right. Maybe she could redeem herself a little instead of appearing a total lackwit. “Did the festival take place last year?”

The vicar’s nose twitched in clear distaste. “At Castle Hartscombe.”

Oh dear. “I can’t give you a definitive answer today. Let me think about it overnight, and I’ll send a footman with my decision.”

“If you won’t host the festival, we won’t have one,” Mrs. Allenby said.

Jocelyn’s brows rose. It was what Mrs. Allenby
didn’t
say that prompted intrigue. “Oh?”

“The goings on at Castle Hartscombe during the last festival were scandalous. Hannah and Peregrine invited guests from London.” Mrs. Allenby pressed her lips together then made a faint
tsk
of disapproval.

“The visitors behaved badly. Very badly.” The vicar’s wig slipped a fraction to the side during his vigorous nodding. “It was a disgrace.”

“I’ll send word of my decision tomorrow,” Jocelyn repeated.

“Thank you. That’s all we ask,” Mrs. Allenby said.

A brief tap on the door sounded seconds before it burst open.

“We’re here,” Hannah trilled. “It’s such a beautiful day we thought we’d take Cassie riding. Oh.” Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “We’re interrupting your visit.”

Peregrine stepped into the parlor behind his sister. A languid figure in white and maroon trimming today, he smiled broadly and the flash of his teeth competed with the sparkling silver embroidery on his vest. “Vicar. Mrs. Allenby. It must be time to discuss this year’s Harvest Festival. We’re looking forward to hosting it at the castle again.”

Mrs. Allenby drew herself up, the steely glint in her eyes failing to hide her dislike. “We have asked Mrs. Sherbourne to host the festival at Merrivale Manor.”

Hannah’s brows rose in surprise. “Do you think that’s appropriate with Leo in jail for murder? Surely it would be better to remain in seclusion.” The consummate actress, she gave a delicate shudder. “I know I wouldn’t want to risk further gossip. Isn’t your reputation stained enough already?”

Peregrine glanced from his sister to Jocelyn and back with avid interest, treating their conversation like a bear baiting.

“Leo said he never wanted to hold the gathering again,” Peregrine said.

“He was most definite on that point,” Hannah agreed.

Jocelyn shot a reproving glance at the vicar who had the grace to flush. They’d left out vital facts during their request.

Mrs. Allenby shot back. “He said that because—”

“Mrs. Allenby,” the vicar said in an unusually sharp voice. He pushed to his feet. “I think it is time for us to leave. I have several parishioners to visit this morning.” He turned to Jocelyn. “You’ll let us know?”

Jocelyn inclined her head, unwilling to inflame Hannah and Peregrine further. Thankfully Cassie arrived, diverting attention. Hannah cooed over her niece’s brand new red dress while Jocelyn showed the vicar and his wife out.

Before reentering the parlor, she glanced through a window overlooking the garden and saw nothing out of place. Had she imagined the face at the window? Boynton had seemed so real, even down to his carefully tied cravat and elaborately embroidered black waistcoat, his immaculate wig atop a ruddy face. Deep in unhappy thoughts, she returned to join Hannah and Peregrine.

“You don’t want to go to the trouble of organizing the festival,” Hannah said. “Especially not at present. It wouldn’t seem right to have a celebration at Merrivale when you’re… Let’s face it. You’re married to a murderer. Do you want to face the public?”

“Are you taking Cassie out riding?” Jocelyn asked.

“Leo said it’s all right to take out Cassie,” Hannah said, a trifle defensively.

“Hannah will lead Cassie around on the pony,” Peregrine said. “Don’t worry. She’ll be perfectly safe. Besides, Cassie has natural talent. She takes after Ursula with her love of horseflesh.”

“It’s me you need to ask,” Jocelyn said, keeping her voice mild when she wanted to scream with vexation. “Until it is decided otherwise, I am responsible for Cassie’s wellbeing.”

“I—”

“Hannah.” Peregrine squeezed his sister’s shoulder in warning.

“We’ll see about that!” With a backward glare, Hannah ushered Cassie outside, and Jocelyn and Peregrine trailed after them.

Irked by Hannah’s attitude, Jocelyn wished Hannah would quit trying to get one up on her all the time. Now that Leo… She broke off the thought and forced herself to concentrate on Peregrine. “Everyone says Cassie looks a lot like her mother.”

Peregrine laughed. “You’re lucky she doesn’t have the same temper tantrums.”

“Ursula had tantrums?”

“Oh, yes.” Peregrine shook his head ruefully. “If everything was going her way, she was all smiles and charm. The minute someone didn’t do as Ursula wanted, watch out!”

Jocelyn sucked in a quick breath. “What happened to Ursula?”

Peregrine came to an abrupt halt. “What do you mean?”

“How did Ursula die?”

His ever-present smile faded, and he scanned their vicinity before turning back to her.

This was a time for bluntness. “Why do the locals think Leo killed her?”

“She’d been strangled.” The lack of emotion in his voice told of pain. “People heard them arguing only two hours earlier.”

“But no one saw Leo do it. What did Leo say?”

Peregrine’s mouth twisted. “He denied doing it, but of course he’s now in jail awaiting trial.”

Something she couldn’t stop thinking about, her feelings conflicted on the matter. The fact her judgment had failed her so badly. “Do you think he killed Ursula?”

Peregrine avoided her gaze, staring off into the distance instead. Jocelyn’s heart thumped hard against her rib cage. He did. He blamed Leo for Ursula’s death. “Yes,” he said finally.

“What about Hannah? Does she think Leo killed Ursula?”

Once again Peregrine’s silence was telling. Jocelyn puffed out a frustrated breath, angry on her own behalf. She’d never have come to Dartmoor or exposed her mother to this situation if she’d known of Leo’s first wife and her traumatic death. While he might have still tricked her into marriage by professing his innocence, she would have thought twice if she’d had possession of all the facts. Since their marriage, she’d witnessed his icy anger. Added to the facts now she could see why Captain Cartwright had locked him up.

“I’d better join Hannah and Cassie,” Peregrine said.

“Why did you keep visiting Merrivale Manor and seeing Leo if you both thought he was responsible for your sister’s murder?”

Peregrine looked at her then, for the first time since she’d introduced the topic. His eyes blazed with emotions. Fear, definitely. The rest flickered through his eyes too quickly for her to decipher. “We can’t leave Cassie alone with him. What happens if he hurts her? I’m sure he’s just biding his time, waiting for suspicions to lull. Leo is dangerous.”

“I won’t let anything happen to Cassie,” Jocelyn said. “Arabella protected your niece while she was here.”

“Arabella was good with Cassie. That’s the only thing that’s keeping us from taking her,” Peregrine said. “And of course, your presence helps keep Cassie safe.”

Jocelyn stared, conflicting emotions stilling her tongue. This wasn’t a nightmare she could wake up from. All his words rang with truth. He believed Leo had killed his sister.

Chapter Eleven

Jocelyn dawdled over her preparations for bed.

Susan finished deftly braiding her hair. “Will that be all, Mrs. Sherbourne?”

“Yes, thank you, Susan. I’ll see you in the morning.” She reached out to still her maid for an instant. “I’m very sorry about Ella. Please, if there is anything I can do to help you have only to ask.”

Pain flickered over Susan’s face. Her mouth worked before she dipped her head in curt acceptance and withdrew, leaving Jocelyn alone with her nightmare. Leo—a murderer. The evidence was conclusive. After her mistake with Boynton, she’d listened to her instincts and trusted Leo. It was only after her arrival at Merrivale and witnessing his strange behavior that she’d become confused and wondered about his innocence.

The facts remained. Someone had murdered Ursula and the maid. Someone had kidnapped Ella and left her traumatized, her mind addled. If Leo wasn’t the murderer, then who’d committed the crime?

Despite the late hour, restless energy filled her. Perhaps she’d find a book in the library. Jocelyn tightened the belt on her wrapper and left her chamber. Several candles still burned in the wall sconces, and she found her way without difficulty. She scanned the library shelves, searching for a book to pique her interest.

A loud creak made her pause. She cocked her head and heard the distinct scuffle of feet. Her breath caught, her thoughts skipping ahead to murder. She listened for a few seconds longer, trepidation making her indecisive.

Finally Jocelyn gathered her wits and slinked to the door, glad she hadn’t pulled it fully shut. The front door creaked as it opened. Familiar muttering propelled Jocelyn to action.

“Mother, what are you doing out of bed? Where is Tilly?”

“I saw lights outside. Someone is beckoning me. I have to go.” Before Jocelyn could remonstrate, her mother ran outside.

“Mother!”

“W-who goes there?” Somewhere to Jocelyn’s right, a servant called a high-pitched query. The nervous stutter sounded like the youngest footman.

“It’s Mrs. Sherbourne. Summon Woodley and tell him my mother is outside.” Jocelyn dallied no longer. She grabbed the closest pair of boots and thrust her bare feet into them. They were wet inside and too big. Ignoring the damp ooze, she clenched her toes and clomped down the steps into the night. After pausing for precious seconds to listen, she hurried along a gravel path, almost tripping over her feet in her haste.
St. Bridget’s nose!
She should have taken the time to grab her own footwear.

“Mother!”

A cloud slid across the partial moon. Jocelyn slowed, her progress more tentative now that her vision was obscured. Dew covered the grass and plants, weighting down the hem of her wrapper. A chill slapped her bare ankles with every step.

“Mother!” She bit off a second call, recalling the face she’d seen at the window. She proceeded cautiously, approaching a fork in the path with vigilance. The crisp crunch of a branch underfoot stopped her in her tracks. “Mother?”

A familiar mumble came from the right
Ah!
“Mother,” Jocelyn said. “You have to come back inside. It’s not safe wandering around in the dark.”

She raced around a corner and plowed into someone. “
Oomph
!” The air whooshed from her lungs. Hands wrapped around her upper arms like containment cuffs. Squeezing. One hand fastened around her throat. Fingers pressed deep. The scent of horse and a whiff of soap wrapped around her. She fought, lashed out with her feet. One boot fell off.

“Stop fighting,” a muffled voice snarled.

“Help!” Jocelyn screamed. She wriggled frantically and lashed out with her feet. Her bare foot connected with her captive’s legs and pain radiated up her shin. “Help!”

A loud screech rent the air. Jocelyn turned her head to see something white hurtling toward them. Ghostlike and terrifying, the creature waved its arms and wailed. Abruptly, she was freed, a hand shoving her in the middle of her back. Jocelyn lurched forward, her arms flapping for balance. Her knees collided painfully with the gravel path, her palms striking seconds later. Agony shot through her limbs.

“
Ow
.” She groaned and slowly pushed herself off her hands and knees.

“Ghost!” A familiar shriek sounded near her ear.

“Mother?” Jocelyn flinched at yet another screech right next to her ear. She grasped her mother’s shoulders and shook her. “Mother, it’s me. For pity’s sake, please stop that infernal racket. You’re deafening me.”

The high-pitched screams halted abruptly. “You’re not a ghost?” Hands patted Jocelyn—her face, her torso. “You’re not a ghost. Georgina, what are you doing outside?”

“It’s Jocelyn, Mother. Georgina is in London.”

“I don’t know any Jocelyn. Where’s Georgina? Or Charlotte? Get Charlotte. She’ll know what to do.”

“Mother, Charlotte and Georgina are both in London with their families.”

A violent tremor swept her mother. “It’s cold out here. I’m cold, Georgina. Cassie said there would be fairies. I wanted to see the fairies dancing.”

“Mother, someone is playing tricks on you. Let me help you back inside. You’ll catch a chill out here.”

“Jocelyn!” a familiar voice yelled.

“Over here,” she shouted.

Seconds later, Woodley appeared on the path. “Are you all right?”

Jocelyn shivered. “Woodley, someone was out here. I don’t know who it was, but Mother frightened him off.”

“Where is Georgina? I want Georgina.” His mother’s querulous voice cut through Jocelyn’s explanations.

“Oh, dear,” Woodley murmured.

“Indeed,” Jocelyn said, sadness engulfing her at the confusion in her mother.