Mistress of Merrivale (36 page)

“Everyone worked hard with the preparations. It was only right they enjoy the festivities with everyone else.”

Tilly slipped her a sideward glance. “From what I understand the staff was worried Mr. Leo would marry Hannah.”

“They were slow to warm to me,” Jocelyn remarked. “I thought they preferred Hannah. She’s very beautiful.”

“That one trades on her beauty and expects everyone to jump at her demands.” Tilly wrinkled her nose. “She isn’t beautiful inside. They say she has a temper.”

Jocelyn had seen Hannah in a sulky mood and sometimes a little snappish, but she’d never seen her lose control. “Maybe she’s learned to rein in her rage.”

“Maybe.” Tilly didn’t sound certain.

“We shouldn’t gossip,” Jocelyn said. “Are we taking this fork in the path?”

“No, the next one leads directly to the riverbank.”

“I thought they said it rained a lot in Dartmoor.” The path narrowed, and Tilly slowed to walk behind her.

“I expect the winter will be cold.”

“Oh, curse it.” Jocelyn slowed to untangle her skirts from a protruding branch. “The path is very overgrown. I didn’t think it would be such an obstacle course.”

“I don’t think anyone comes here much. Mrs. Green mentioned the locals think this particular spot is haunted after the first Mrs. Sherbourne died in the vicinity.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Jocelyn said. “All the ghosts I’ve heard of recently have turned out to be human.”

“You keep thinking that,” Tilly said. “And if a ghost attacks you can beat them away with a stout stick.”

“Tilly,” Jocelyn remonstrated. “You sound as if you believe in ghosts.”

“I don’t disbelieve,” Tilly said.

Jocelyn laughed. “Next you’ll be telling me the tales of fairies and evil pixies, black dogs and evil witches roaming Dartmoor are true.”

“The locals believe the tales.”

“Yes, they do.” A shiver drew a rash of goose bumps to her arms and legs. “We should talk about something more cheerful,” she said.

“How are your aches and pains?”

“That is not a cheerful memory,” Jocelyn said.

They walked single file, climbed over the trunk of a fallen tree and stopped to untangle brambles from their skirts.

Jocelyn picked a blackberry and popped it into her mouth. “The berries are delicious.”

“I wonder if Cook would make us a pie,” Tilly said.

Jocelyn plucked several more berries from the bush and dropped them into her basket. “I would love a pie.”

They lingered, picking berries until purple juices stained their fingertips.

“We’d better collect the willow bark,” Jocelyn said. “Leo said he wouldn’t be late tonight. He had to ride over to Hartscombe, and I believe he intended to visit Cartwright.”

Tilly increased her pace, leading the way down the path.

“How far is it?” Jocelyn was suddenly weary.

“Not much farther. I can hear the water.”

The path ended abruptly, the abundance of brambles and undergrowth giving way to a rocky beach on the bank of the river. An elegant wading bird probed the mud at the water’s edge, searching for food. Their arrival spooked it, and the bird took off with a raucous cry of alarm.

“Where…oh, look,” Jocelyn said. “We’ve taken the wrong path. There’s another one just over there and it looks as if it goes straight past the willows.”

“Never mind. We’ll know for next time,” Tilly said. “You’re looking a mite tired. Why don’t you take a seat and let me cut the bark? It won’t take me long, and we’ll be on our way.”

Jocelyn nodded and followed Tilly along the riverbank. She handed Tilly the knife from her basket and sat to wait on a large stone.

Tilly disappeared beneath the nearest willow. A cluck of disapproval emanated from under the tree. “It looks as if someone has already cut the bark on this trunk. I don’t want to take more and kill it.” She backed from beneath the branches. “Stay there, Jocelyn. I’ll check the other trees and will be back in a trice.”

After Tilly disappeared, Jocelyn tipped back her head to study the clouds and pick out shapes. “A dog, I think.” She tilted her head to the right. Yes, that looked like a playful puppy.

Half an hour passed, and she started to wonder what had happened to Tilly. The other trees were nearby. It shouldn’t take her this long.

The
clip-clop
of a horse’s hooves brought a rush of excitement. Leo. She shot to her feet, a smile curling her lips until she identified the rider. Hannah.

“Oh, I thought it was Leo. Have you come to visit Cassie?” Jocelyn moved behind the stone she’d been sitting on, not wanting to get too close to the restive horse. It snorted and danced, but Hannah held it effortlessly in check.

“No.” Hannah’s face twisted in anger, her ire settling on Jocelyn. “I don’t understand why he married you. You’re plain and ugly and your hair...it’s horrid. Brazen, really.”

No matter how many times Jocelyn heard the insult, it still held the power to hurt. The words made her feel less, but as always, she lifted her chin to meet Hannah’s scorn. The other woman might be a renowned beauty, but today an icy chill glittered in her blue eyes.

In truth, Jocelyn could hardly refute Hannah. She’d never be a beauty, but despite that, she and Leo were happy. He mightn’t have told her he loved her, but he treated her with care and respect and sought her company.

Hannah’s horse sidestepped, dancing with impatience when she reined him in, smoothly exerting control. Something in Hannah’s mocking expression raised Jocelyn’s hackles. A stab of anxiety stirred in her gut. She looked past Hannah and her mount, praying Tilly would hurry her chore and return.

When Hannah remained, and Tilly didn’t reappear, Jocelyn edged off the path out of the way. “Don’t let me hold you up.”

“You have something that belongs to me. I want it back.” Hannah dismounted and led her horse to a tree. She looped the reins over a sturdy branch before sauntering back to Jocelyn.

“Whatever do you mean?” Jocelyn’s unease deepened and she backed up a fraction more. Her boot struck a rock and her foot rolled. A sharp pain streaked up her leg and her cry rang out. “By St. Bridget, that hurt.” She hobbled to the large stone and perched on it to prod delicately at her ankle through her boots. A dull throb emanated from the wrenched area. “Did you see Tilly?”

“Oh, yes.” Hannah tapped her boot with her riding crop.

“Do you think she’ll be long? I’d like to go back to the manor.”

“She won’t be coming.” Hannah struck her boot again without taking her eyes off Jocelyn.

Whack. Whack. Whack
.

“I don’t understand.” With each beat of Hannah’s crop Jocelyn’s uneasiness increased. “She said she’d be right back.”

The swat of the whip ceased. “I struck her over the head, and she fell down.”

“I beg your pardon?” When Hannah merely regarded her with a mocking smile, Jocelyn frowned in confusion. “She’s hurt? Where is she?”

She started in the direction Tilly had gone, limping heavily. She paused, sucking in a deep breath, praying the dull ache would subside. Tilly needed her.

A hand shot out to grasp her upper arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Jocelyn wrenched away and glared at Hannah. “If Tilly is hurt, she needs my help.”

“It’s too late for you to aid her.”

The maniac light in Hannah’s eyes set Jocelyn’s heart racing. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re the stupid one.” Hannah’s voice held condescension. Clear amusement. “Leo belongs with me, and I intend to have him.”

“How?” Jocelyn gaped at Hannah. “Leo is my husband. He loves me.” Leo mightn’t have spoken the words out loud but he showed signs of caring for her.

Hannah burst into laughter, a sweet tinkling sound that contrasted sharply with the furious glitter in her expression. “You poor deluded thing. Leo and I laugh about you when we’re together. Why would a woman like you interest Leo?”

Pain speared Jocelyn, propelled with a true aim by Hannah’s viperous tongue. “I-I don’t believe you. Leo married me.”

“In a fit of pique,” Hannah said. “We argued and Leo went off to London. Of course we’d argued before, but this time the stupid man wanted to teach me a lesson. He regrets his actions now.”

“No,” Jocelyn whispered.

“Leo realized he made a mistake,” Hannah continued. “He doesn’t want you.”

“Why are you telling me? Doesn’t Leo have the guts?” She couldn’t quite pull off the hauteur she’d aimed for.

Hannah shrugged, unconcerned by Jocelyn’s devastation. “You know what men are like. They think they’re in charge, but they rely on their women. I promised him I’d tell you to spare him the trouble. Come back to the castle. I can provide a carriage to take you away. You needn’t face him again.”

“But my things.” Jocelyn’s mind screamed this was wrong. Hannah wasn’t telling the truth. Leo wasn’t the sort of man who relied on others to fix his problems. He was like his cousin. Honest. No, she wouldn’t—couldn’t—believe Hannah. Jocelyn’s head lifted. “Leo isn’t like that. We’re having a child.”

“It was a mistake. I told you we had a disagreement.”

“You must argue a lot because Leo spends every night in my bed.” It was the wrong thing to say. Jocelyn knew it the instant the words left her mouth.

Hannah’s features contorted with ugliness. Her nostrils flared. “You don’t understand. I’ve done everything for you. I freed you from your mother.” Her hands fisted as she stalked closer. “She was a burden, threatening to drag you down. Now that she’s gone you have freedom to start a new life.”

“My mother?”

“I helped you,” Hannah spat. “She belonged in an institution.”

Jocelyn listened with growing disbelief. “What did you do?”

“I put her to sleep.”

“You murdered my mother?” Jocelyn’s breath caught in her throat as she gawked at Hannah. “I thought Boynton—”

“You should be grateful.”

Another thought occurred, one that tore at her guts. Had Leo known? The thought didn’t bear thinking about, yet she couldn’t let it go. “Did Leo know?”

“Of course Leo knew,” Hannah said. “It’ll be easier for you to return to London and find another protector without your mother in tow.”

“No.” She recoiled, horror filling her eyes with tears. No, she couldn’t believe it. “How…” she trailed off, unable to complete her sentence.

“Pooh, it was simple to climb up the creepers. The catch on the window is easy to open from the outside. It’s how Ursula used to sneak from the manor.”

“Oh.” Jocelyn gave Hannah a sidelong glance. Did she know who murdered her sister? Her eyebrows shot up and she blinked with incredulity as an idea formed.

Hannah had murdered her sister.

No, that didn’t make sense because she wouldn’t have wanted to implicate Leo. She opened her mouth to ask and thought better of it. She didn’t want to know.

“You shouldn’t have upset Boynton. The man would have secured your future.”

Going anywhere with Boynton would have guaranteed her a life of misery. He’d constantly mocked her plainness and always fucked her in the dark because her face offended him.

“Answer me,” Hannah snapped.

“You didn’t ask a question.”

“Do you want to leave with Boynton? I might be able to talk him around.”

“No, thank you. I’ll return to the manor and wait for Leo to arrive home. He can tell me to leave, if that’s what he wants. I’ll go as soon as I find Tilly.”

“No.” Hannah’s hand shot out to grip her arm with bruising force. “Come with me now.”

“I want to speak with Leo.”

Hannah’s hand whipped out. She struck, snapping Jocelyn’s head back with the force of the blow. “Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?” Her screech rang out, startling her horse. The bay yanked at its reins, snorting, eyes rolling in terror. “No one listens to me. I do the neighborly thing and give you a warning. You should have listened.” With fury glittering in her eyes, she advanced on Jocelyn.

Jocelyn’s jaw throbbed. Tears welled in her eyes and she backed away without taking her gaze off Hannah. The woman was unhinged.

A murderer.

Not looking where she was going, she stumbled. Before she recovered Hannah was on her, hands circling her neck, squeezing.

Chapter Eighteen

“Mr. Sherbourne!”

Tilly burst into his study, looking as demented as Elizabeth on a bad day. “You have to come.” Tendrils of gray hair had escaped her normally impeccable style, and she’d lost her cap. A trail of blood ran down one cheek and dirt clung to her gown. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, to speak.

Woodley followed his wife, alarm etched into his face. “Tilly, what is it?”

“Jo-Jocelyn.”

Leo surged to his feet. “Where is Jocelyn?”

Tilly wheezed. “River. Hannah.”

“Where?” he demanded.

“Near pussy willows,” she gasped out. “Careful. Hannah is dangerous.”

Leo dallied only long enough to seize his pistol. “Fetch as many men as you can and send them after me.”