Mistress of Merrivale (26 page)

“If I escape it will look as if I’m guilty.”

“My sister was no angel. I could understand someone murdering her,” Hannah said lightly.

“Be that as it may, I didn’t kill your sister.”

Hannah waved a gloved hand in dismissal. “Of course you didn’t, Leo. Peregrine and I still talk to you. My parents don’t speak badly of you. We know Ursula was difficult.”

An understatement in Leo’s opinion. “You and your family are in the minority.”

Despite Hannah’s many annoying qualities, she’d never snubbed him, even though the death of her sister must have come as a shock.

Cartwright entered the jail, his keys rattling with each step. He unlocked the door and nudged the blacksmith in the ribs with his mud-splattered boot. “Oy, time for you to go home.”

“I don’t suppose I could leave too?” Leo asked.

Cartwright chuckled. “You could try.”

“I’d better get back to our guests,” Hannah said. “I asked Cook to pack some treats for you.”

“I’ll search the contents first,” Cartwright said in a stiff voice, playing the part of jailer to the hilt. He guided the blacksmith to the unlocked door. “You first, Miss Richards.”

Leo listened to the murmur of voices, the loud protests of the blacksmith and the jangle of a horse’s harness. A cart rolled away with a squeak of wheels. Seconds later the gallop of hooves indicated Hannah’s usual reckless departure.

Cartwright returned five minutes later.

“Did you learn anything?”

Cartwright shook his grizzled head. “Nothing of import. They do have visitors, but I couldn’t get close enough to identify any of them.”

“Hannah said they’re friends from London. They’re going grouse shooting later this afternoon, so you might get luckier if you follow them. Sir James is going to the castle with his guests this evening.”

A bark of rusty laughter emerged from Cartwright. “You’ve learned more than me, despite being locked up.”

“Do you think they’ll visit the abbey tonight?”

“We saw two men there last night, after seeing no one for weeks.”

Leo nodded. “Will we watch again tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure the blacksmith’s wife left the town of her own free will?”

“Aye, as sure as I can be.”

Leo paced to the small, barred window and stood on tiptoe to peer outside. “I find it hard to believe Jaego is part of this. I don’t like the man, but he’s not capable of murder.”

“People change. Some are masters at concealment. In this job I see the worst of people. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

The week passed in a pleasant fashion. Jocelyn enjoyed Leo’s attentions, although he appeared distracted at times. Understandable since the next quarter session would take place soon. A tremor darted down her spine. What would she do if Leo was charged with murder? While there was no proof, everyone believed he’d committed the crime. Even she wasn’t sure some days and wondered if she lacked judgment.

While Leo hadn’t told her he loved her, it was obvious he enjoyed her company. He was clearly pleased about the babe. Her hand crept down to cradle the swell of her abdomen. The mornings of sickness were worth it. Soon she would have a child of her own—another child. Cassie was currently in the kitchen with Cook, learning the intricacies of making gingerbread. For some reason Hannah and Peregrine hadn’t visited this week, and Cassie’s behavior was much improved.

Jocelyn wandered past the rose gardens, enjoying the sunshine after an unexpected day of rain. The sweet perfume of the roses fought with the musty scent rising from the branches the gardeners had collected in preparation for a bonfire.

On a whim, she turned toward the maze. After swearing her to secrecy, Leo had told her the trick of the maze, and now she was eager to try it out.

The jumble of twists and turns and dead ends was easy to navigate if one knew the secret pattern. She stepped forward with confidence, passing through the opening. She strolled along, counting the turns. When she paused, all she could see were the towering hedges. Toward the middle of the maze, she could hear the
clip-clip
of shears and the low murmur of the under-gardeners trimming the hedges into submission in preparation for the festival.

Jocelyn continued until she’d almost reached the center. Not wishing to disturb the gardeners at work, she retraced her steps and exited the maze without difficulty.

The gardens looked beautiful, a real credit to the gardeners. Everything would be perfect in time for the festivities in two weeks. Mrs. Allenby was starting to fuss and panic, but Jocelyn was pleased with their plans. The games for the children were organized, the games to entertain the adults were almost finalized, and the menu for the Harvest feast was complete. Jocelyn thought they’d planned for every contingency. As long as the weather cooperated, everyone should enjoy the event. Mrs. Allenby had little reason to worry.

A ladybird landed on her hand, and Jocelyn watched the spotted insect before gently relocating it onto a leafy plant. She wandered past a lavender bush, running her hand over the flowers to release their pungent scent. Slowly, she made her way back to the house.

“Jocelyn, there you are. I’ve been searching for you everywhere.” Hannah aimed her displeasure at Jocelyn, the whip she was holding
tap-tap-tapping
against her black skirts.

“Hannah, you should have called for me. I told the servants I intended to walk in the garden. Did you want to visit with Cassie? She’s in the kitchen with Cook. If you want to take her riding, you’ll have to tear her away. Gingerbread is her favorite.”

“No, I don’t wish to see Cassie. She’s an ungrateful brat.”

Jocelyn blinked at Hannah’s sharp tone. She knew Cassie was sulky at times, but her behavior had improved recently, and she’d finally seemed to accept Jocelyn’s presence. “If Cassie is acting badly please let me know.”

“All she wants to do is play with her dolls and dress and redress them countless times,” Hannah muttered.

Jocelyn laughed. “No doubt she’ll be back to ponies next week.”

“I don’t know if I want to look after her.”

“Do you mean you don’t wish to visit her any longer?”

Hannah lifted her shoulder in an irritable shrug. “I mean that Peregrine and I don’t know if we want her living with us when you have your baby. She’s disruptive.”

Jocelyn stared at Hannah in shock. How did she know about the baby? “Why would you—nothing will change. Cassie is our daughter. Of course she’ll live with us.” As if they’d ever consider letting Hannah have sole charge of Cassie.

“But you are having a baby?”

“Yes, but…how did you know?”

“Servants talk. There are rumors going around the village.”

Alarm surfaced in Jocelyn. Surely they didn’t know about Leo’s frequent absences from jail. He took such care to return before anyone noted his absence. “What rumors?” Jocelyn asked faintly.

“Why, it’s very obvious to anyone who can count that this baby is not Leo’s. You’re having an affair with someone.”

“That’s not true!” A sick feeling forced its way up her throat.
St. Bridget’s nose
. She couldn’t deny the rumors without placing Leo in danger. She swallowed, frantically searching for a way out of the moor-like bog that was her life.

“Say what you like. It’s difficult to ignore the truth when it stares one in the face. How are the plans for the festival?” Hannah changed the subject abruptly.

“Ah, very well, thank you.” The shift left her feeling like a passenger on a runaway carriage. Jocelyn groped to order her thoughts. “Um, the vicar and his wife seem happy.”

“Interfering old busybody,” Hannah muttered, plucking haphazardly at lavender heads and tossing them on the ground. “She spoils anything remotely connected with fun. I wanted to invite a friend.”

According to the vicar, the troublemakers were the strangers who’d attended the last festival, but there was no reason why Hannah and Peregrine couldn’t invite a couple of friends. “Is there someone special you’d like to invite?”

Jocelyn walked farther down the path, intending to head back to the house. At the rate Hannah was going the plants would end up bare, stripped of flowers and foliage.

The crunch of rapid footsteps on the gravel path told Jocelyn that Hannah was following. When they reached the end of the path, Jocelyn slowed for Hannah to catch up.

“There is someone I would like to invite,” Hannah said. “Someone special.”

“That’s fine,” Jocelyn said. “You’re welcome to bring him with you. Is there someone Peregrine would like to escort to the fair?”

Hannah smiled suddenly, lighting up her entire face. She looked so angelic that Jocelyn blinked under her radiance. “Yes, I believe there is.”

“That’s settled then,” Jocelyn said. “I’ll add two more people to my list.”

“Thank you. I might visit Cassie after all, if that is all right with you.”

Despite Hannah charging her with an adulterous affair, the temptation to chuckle was almost too much. Jocelyn’s lips twitched before she regained control of herself. Hannah and Cassie were clearly related with their quick changes of mood. “You’re her aunt, and you’re welcome to visit at any time.”

An agitated screech filled the air as they neared the manor.

Jocelyn turned to Hannah. “I assume you know the way to the kitchen?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll say goodbye then.” What had upset her mother this time? Some days Jocelyn wanted to scream herself. She ran up the steps and turned toward the parlor. Another furious shriek told her she was heading in the right direction. Her chest ached at the sudden exertion, and she slowed to regain her breath. When she rounded the corner, she came to an appalled halt in the doorway.

“Mother!”

Elizabeth paid no attention as she held Tilly at bay with a pair of shears. Her mother wielded them with expertise, intent to wound written on her distraught face.

“What is going on here? Explain yourself instantly.” Jocelyn forced the words out, acting the stern disciplinarian because that was the only method to which her mother responded. “Why are you threatening Tilly?”

“She stole my sewing basket,” her mother cried, not lowering the shears. “She wouldn’t give it back.”

Another of her mother’s strange fancies. Tilly would cut off her hand rather than steal. Her father had hanged for stealing, and Tilly had sworn she’d never follow in his footsteps.

“Elizabeth dropped her basket. The contents spilled over the floor. I merely picked them up and replaced them,” Tilly said, her voice as stiff as her posture.

“Mother, put the shears down. You’ll take out someone’s eye waving them around like that.”

After a fraught few seconds, her mother lowered them, and the tension drained from her thin shoulders. Her thin brows arched as she stared down her nose at Jocelyn. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m not your mother. Where’s Georgina?”

“She’s in London,” Jocelyn said for about the fifth time that day. She pushed away the ache in her chest and focused on Tilly. “Are you hurt?”

“Elizabeth gave me a bad fright, that’s all.”

“You look exhausted. Why don’t you have a rest? I’ll watch her for a couple of hours.”

“No, I’ll cope. You need to take care of yourself with a babe on the way.”

Her mother seemed to blink. She glanced down blankly, frowning at the shears in her hand. “I need to finish my sewing. The little girl asked me to make a dress for her doll.” She bustled over to a chair and calmly picked up her task as if nothing had happened.

“She’s deteriorating,” Jocelyn said. “I hate the idea of keeping her confined, but I can’t have her attacking people.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault,” Tilly said, reaching out to pat Jocelyn’s hand.

Jocelyn knew that, but what would happen if Leo refused to protect her mother any longer? She could hardly blame him wanting her mother gone from Merrivale, given her recent behavior.

Footsteps approached, and Hannah appeared in the doorway.

“Cassie is finished her baking. Is it all right if I take her back to the castle for a ride? I’ll bring her back later this afternoon.”

Despite Hannah’s moodiness and periods of rudeness, she appeared to care for Cassie. There was no reason to deny the request. “Of course.”

“You!” Elizabeth tossed her sewing aside and sprang to her feet. Moving with uncharacteristic speed, she rushed at Hannah, her fingers outstretched like talons, face contorted in a mask of hatred.

Shocked at the ferociousness of the attack, Jocelyn froze, taking precious seconds to gather her wits. “Mother!”

“Elizabeth!” Tilly shouted.

“You. It was you. Get out. Get out!” Elizabeth gouged Hannah’s cheek before Hannah could strike in self-defense.

“Mother!”

Elizabeth struggled, batting away restraining hands. She shrieked—an eerie cry that raised the hairs at the back of Jocelyn’s neck and lashed out at Hannah again. “Quick, Tilly. Seize her arm. I’ll grab her other.”

“Summon help first,” Tilly ordered.