Mistress of Merrivale (20 page)

“I didn’t say that.” Cartwright’s bushy moustache twitched, and Leo straightened abruptly, aiming a glower at the man. “I’ve seen the worst of men in my duties as constable. I like to gather the facts before I pass a judgment, especially one that would sentence a man to the gallows.”

“I did not murder Ursula or the woman I discovered in the maze. You know I didn’t murder Ursula.”

“But you had the opportunity, which is why I’m going to take you into custody.”

Leo leaped to his feet, no longer able to contain himself. “Everyone will think I’m guilty.”

“Exactly,” Cartwright said. “We’re going to flush the guilty party out.”

Leo gaped at Cartwright. “We?”

“I’ve known you for a long time, Sherbourne. I could understand if you’d murdered your wife because she was a bitch.” He made the sign of a cross. “But you have a creditable alibi for the time after you argued. You didn’t, as far as I can fathom, have any reason to kill the first maid. And I doubt you’d be stupid enough to wander the moors in the middle of the night with Ella if you had nefarious intentions. You’re an intelligent man. If you were the guilty party you’d have a plan for every contingency. And that’s why you’re going to help me catch the murderer and put a stop to the orgies going on in the abbey.”

“How is Anna?”

“My stepsister has caught the eye of Lord Lawtin.” Clear relief sounded in Cartwright’s voice. “I’m hopeful of an offer. Let another man have the reins,” he said gruffly.

“What a pity,” Leo said, unable to resist a sly dig at the parish constable. “We had a rather delightful time—”

“That’s enough.” Cartwright slashed his hand through the air. “Don’t think I’m happy my stepsister is your alibi for the night of Ursula’s murder. Push me hard enough, and I might conveniently forget the point.”

Leo sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

Late evening, four days later, jail cell, Captain Cartwright’s house.

Leo picked up his glass of whisky and gulped some down. What a bloody week. Everyone thought he was a murderer and Jocelyn…

He placed his glass down and rubbed his chest, but the empty ache remained. Jocelyn had looked at him with her big blue eyes, a combination of disappointment and dread shining in them, then she’d turned her back and walked away. The slight had cut, made him shrivel up inside. It bloody hurt—the knowledge she thought him capable of killing for pleasure.

Arabella believed him innocent. She’d visited him, ready to protest and do whatever it took to get him released, even put off her return to Spain. He’d had to tell her the truth, swearing her to secrecy, before she’d consent to leave Merrivale as planned. His cousin was an attractive woman, and he’d hate to have her in harm’s way. No, it was best for her to leave for Spain. It was distressing enough worrying about Jocelyn and the rest of the female servants.

A key turned in the lock and Cartwright entered the cell adjoining his house where Leo was kept incarcerated for appearance’s sake. “Are you ready to leave?”

“We’ll probably find nothing again.” Each night since his arrest, they’d kept watch on the abbey. So far they’d discovered nothing suspicious. Meantime, the locals were baying for his blood, and Cartwright had hired more men to keep watch in case the villagers decided to take things into their own hands. “Did my wife send a message?”

Cartwright’s hesitation was all the reply Leo required. Jocelyn believed the stories and his imprisonment served as a confirmation of his guilt. The only person, aside from Arabella, who seemed to believe in him was Hannah. She visited him each day, filling him in on the gossip and public opinion.

Leo swallowed the last of his whisky. “Where are we going tonight?”

“I thought we’d stake out Sir Harvey’s property. I want to see if he has any visitors.”

Interest stirred in Leo. “You think he might entertain his visitors at the abbey?”

“It occurred to me.”

“He wasn’t the man in charge on the night. It was someone else. I didn’t recognize his voice.”

“He could have disguised his voice.”

Leo shrugged. “What about other locals?”

“Peregrine Richards?”

“I don’t know. There were women present. Some were prostitutes, and they didn’t wear masks, but there were other women who wore masks to obscure their identities. That says to me they have a reason to hide their faces.”

“Were you invited to join in with the…festivities?”

“Yes,” Leo said instantly. “I declined. The only reason I became suspicious was because I came across a large number of footprints, hoof marks and carriage tracks while I was helping the shepherds muster sheep. It roused my curiosity, and I decided to investigate. I came across sheep entrails.” Leo frowned. “Is it possible they’re doing some sort of ritual? Could that explain the missing women? Some are sold and others are used in the ritual?”

“A sacrifice? You saw the blood on the ground. What other explanation could there be? The woman dumped in your maze bore stab wounds to the chest area.”

“Unless someone is rustling, butchering the sheep to sell at one of the local markets. I don’t know,” Leo said. “I feel as if we’ve discussed this to death. We’re going around in circles.”

“We’re close. I feel it in my gut.”

“I’d feel better if the locals weren’t after my blood,” Leo said. And if he could see Jocelyn, maybe explain everything. Cartwright didn’t want him to tell anyone, and while part of him understood, he wished he could speak with his wife.

“Put this on,” Cartwright said, tossing a black cloak and mask at him. “We’ll go prepared again.”

Leo donned the cloak and stuffed the mask in the top of his breeches, ready to grab in case of need. “Are we walking again?”

“We’ll take the horses part way and leave them on the boundary of Harvey’s property. Walk the rest of the way.”

Leo nodded and followed the parish constable from the cell.

“Wait in the study while I distract the watchmen.”

Leo did as he was bade, all the while wishing like hell they’d find proof to clear his name. He wanted to sleep in his own bed with his wife curled in his arms.

Glimmers of sunshine crept through a sliver between the curtains, waking Jocelyn from a light slumber. She kicked off the remaining covers and sat, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

A brief tap on the door announced her maid’s arrival. At Jocelyn’s invitation, Susan entered. She set down her tray and poured a dish of tea. “Miss Hannah and Master Peregrine sent word they intend to call this morning.”

Jocelyn grimaced. Their departure always left Cassie unsettled and rebellious. Since the parish constable arrested Leo for murder, Merrivale Manor had received many callers. Everyone wanted to poke and pry before they dashed off to whisper about the wife of the murderer. “The vicar and his wife intend to visit this morning too.”

“I had best get you dressed then, Mrs. Sherbourne. Which gown would you like to wear?”

“The pale blue with stripes, I think. How is Ella?”

Tears filled Susan’s eyes. “She lies in bed all day and refuses to talk. She won’t even speak to me, and we were always close.”

Jocelyn reached for Susan’s hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry. I…” What could she say when her husband was the responsible party? It galled that she’d misread his character so badly. “Please let me know if I can do anything to help. Anything at all.” Somehow she managed the words, when her throat ached and her chest felt so tight she wondered if she might snap under the strain. She hadn’t contacted Melburn yet, putting off the task of writing the missive about Leo’s guilt. Soon Leo would appear before a Justice of the Peace and then—

She cut off the thought abruptly. “Yes, the blue gown today please, Susan.”

Half an hour later Jocelyn left her chamber. She checked in with Tilly and found her mother stitching another gown for Cassie’s doll. Her mother seemed happy, showing no evidence of her earlier screaming fit. “Did you have a good night, Mother?”

“I only heard the ghost once,” she said. “He tapped on my window.”

“Oh?” Jocelyn glanced at Tilly and received a shrug.

“I told him to go away, and he did.”

“That’s good,” Jocelyn said. “You should tell him the same thing next time too.” Inwardly, she sighed. Her mother’s room was on the second floor. It would take an acrobat to knock on her window.

“Yes, it worked well. I’ll definitely do that if I see the ghost again.” Elizabeth held up a tiny green dress. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful. I wish I had your talent with a needle and thread,” Jocelyn said.

A maid tapped on the door. “The vicar is here.”

“I’ll be there shortly. Please let Mrs. Green know we’ll need refreshments.”

The maid bustled away to undertake the chore.

“They’ll be coming to ask you about the Harvest festival,” Tilly said.

“What festival?”

“The Sherbournes have always hosted a summer festival. I understand they stopped after Mr. Sherbourne married his first wife.”

“Go on,” Jocelyn prompted, glad of a distraction from her thoughts. “Mrs. Allenby hasn’t mentioned the topic. Tell me everything you know.”

Tilly hesitated, looking unhappy. “According to gossip, the festival went ahead the first year Mr. Sherbourne married. Mrs. Sherbourne created a scene—the first Mrs. Sherbourne, that is. Some of her friends came down from London. They were rude and one of them tried to force their attentions on a local girl. That’s all I know.”

“I suppose I’d better go and find out what they want,” Jocelyn said. “A gathering might be fun. Mother, I’ll see you later. If the weather stays fine we can go for a walk in the garden this afternoon.”

Elizabeth clapped her hands together. “Oh, yes. I’d like that.”

Jocelyn pasted a welcoming smile on her face and sailed into the parlor where Vicar and Mrs. Allenby were waiting for her. “How are you? I’m so pleased you dropped by to visit. Do have a seat. Will you take refreshments?”

“That would be most pleasant,” Mrs. Allenby said. “Thank you.”

“We were lucky with the weather,” the vicar said. “I thought the mist might settle and keep us confined indoors for the day.”

Mrs. Allenby nodded, the trim on her blue hat bobbing erratically with every jolt of her head. “We have been lucky recently. During the winter, the fog comes down and doesn’t lift for days.”

“Something for me to look forward to,” Jocelyn said, taking a seat. They passed pleasantries and danced around the subject of Leo until Jocelyn’s mouth ached with smiling. The maid’s arrival with a tray of refreshments provided a respite, and Jocelyn busied herself pouring glasses of the cook’s sweet lemon drink. She passed a glass to Mrs. Allenby, glancing up as she did so. A face wavered in the window.

One from her nightmares.

She gasped, fumbling the glass. It slipped from her grasp, and the contents splattered on the Oriental rug.

Mrs. Allenby lurched to her feet when splashes struck her skirts.

Jocelyn shot off her chair. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually this clumsy.” She rang for a maid and risked a frantic glance at the window.

Boynton.

He’d found her.

A maid appeared, and Jocelyn issued instructions. He
had
seen her at Tavistock and followed her home. He’d always been sly. The hair at the back of her neck rose, and she fought to still the tremor of her hand when she helped Mrs. Allenby sponge the stain from her gown. Boynton was likely enjoying his furtive game, stalking her as if she were a helpless mouse.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Jocelyn said, taking another peek at the window. “I don’t know what happened.” She was positive it hadn’t been her imagination. Had Boynton been the one terrorizing her mother all this time? Perhaps he was the ghost.

“No apologies necessary,” George said reaching over to pat her hand. “You’ve been under a lot of strain recently.”

“Of course you don’t need to apologize,” Mrs. Allenby agreed. “Have you seen Leo?”

“No.” Jocelyn sat up straight in her chair, determined to hold her composure.

The maid exited and everyone settled again. Jocelyn kept glancing out the window. She wanted to run outside to confront the wretched man and demand he leave her alone. Surely she had enough to deal with at present?

The clearing of a throat jerked her attention back to her guests. She forced a smile and focused on them.

“There,” George said. “I knew she’d approve of the idea.”

Oh, dear. That was what happened when a person didn’t pay attention. “I’m sorry,” Jocelyn said. “I haven’t been sleeping well, and I’m a bit scattered today. What were you saying?”

“The Harvest Festival is a Sherbourne tradition,” the vicar said. “It would be good to have it back at Merrivale Manor.”

“We thought the gathering would help things get back to normal,” Mrs. Allenby said, sympathy filling her eyes. “I understand this situation is difficult for you, and that many of the villagers are treating you as if you are guilty too, but the festival might be the thing to help cement your presence here. Once Leo…” She trailed off, her gaze darting away while a red tide surged into her wrinkled face. Mrs. Allenby inhaled deeply. “This is your home. We are your friends, my dear. If you act normally, the villagers might start to get past their distrust of you.”