Leo couldn’t stop smiling the next morning. Not even another day spent with the blacksmith who’d gone on another drunken binge when he’d learned his wife had run off with a travelling salesman could dim his mood. A child. Now if only he and Cartwright could catch the murderer.
“Leo!”
He turned at the hail, his good humor faltering when Hannah entered, Cartwright locking the door after her.
She gave a delicate sniff, her nostrils flaring. He didn’t blame her—the drunken blacksmith smelled of vomit and stale alcohol. The stench clawed the back of his throat every time he returned to the cell.
“How are you?” She set down the basket she carried and looked both left and right. Neither of the battered chairs passed her scrutiny. Her nose wrinkled and she remained standing.
The blacksmith plunged into another chorus of his song about a limber barmaid named Nelly.
Hannah scowled. “How can you stand this?”
“I have no choice. It’s good of you to visit.”
“I notice your wife doesn’t.”
Leo didn’t bother to reply. In truth he was glad Jocelyn kept her distance. He didn’t want his wife to see him here.
“You’re up early.” He didn’t want to deal with Hannah. Her flirtations were uncomfortable, and she was much like her sister, thinking only of herself, which made her regular visits out of character.
She shrugged. “We have visitors down from London. With their drunken revels I can scarcely hear myself think. I needed a ride to clear my head.”
“Ah, something to distract me. Tell me about your visitors. Anything to take my mind from my present situation.” Leo spoke loudly so Hannah could hear him above the blacksmith.
The man halted his singing mid-verse, his head dipping toward his homespun linen shirt. His eyes closed and he snorted, a string of drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
Leo’s voice rang out above the partial snores. “It’s better when he’s asleep.”
“Disgusting! It’s no wonder that man’s wife ran off.”
“Is it certain she left with a man?”
“Vicar Allenby saw her leave on a cart packed with possessions. The gossips say the vicar tried to talk her out of leaving. Think positively, Leo. At least no one can blame you should they find her body on the moor.”
Leo snorted, aiming a careful smile in her direction. “Divert me.”
Hannah dimpled at him. “I could do this task better if we were alone in a romantic setting.”
“I’m married,” Leo snapped, cursing inwardly at her grimace. Damn, farming sheep was easier than questioning people about possible crimes.
Hannah rallied. “Pooh, she’s a poor wife to you. I hear she’s going mad like her mother.”
Anger gripped Leo. His fists tightened at his sides, but he ruthlessly suppressed his natural inclination to snap at her again. “Who told you that?”
“I heard she’s seeing faces in windows and wandering from the house in the middle of the night. Everyone knows it’s dangerous to navigate the moor. Only an imbecile would attempt Dartmoor at night.”
“I’m sure these are merely rumors.” Leo wanted to say more. Jocelyn was no more mad than he was a murderer.
She shrugged. “Rumors always bear an element of truth.”
Her smug laughter poked his temper. He fought it, not wanting to upset Hannah when he needed her to speak of their visitors. “That is true. Come, I don’t wish to discuss my wife.” He thought of the way Jocelyn had curled in his arms the previous night. She didn’t exhibit any of her mother’s symptoms, and he refused to listen to Hannah’s viperous tongue.
“Several of the usual crowd have come down from London. Peregrine’s friends mostly.” A malicious gleam sparkled in her eyes, and Leo tensed as he wondered the cause. “A few people I hadn’t met before. Peregrine is taking them grouse shooting later today. Sir James is coming for dinner tonight and bringing his house guests with him. I believe we shall be quite a party. I’m sorry you can’t attend.” She glanced over her shoulder and leaned closer. “We could break you out of jail.”
The blacksmith snored on, undisturbed by their conversation.
“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.”
“Can I 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 have visitors, but I couldn’t get close enough to identify 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 took 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 sound judgment.
While Leo hadn’t told her he loved her, it was obvious he enjoyed her company. The babe clearly pleased him. Her hand crept down to cradle the swell of her abdomen. The mornings of sickness were nothing. Soon she would have a child of her own—another child. Cassie was with Cook, learning the intricacies of making gingerbread. For some reason Hannah and Peregrine hadn’t visited this week, and Cassie’s improved behavior meant a more harmonious home.
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 test her skill.
The jumble of twists and turns and dead ends became easy to navigate if one knew the secret pattern. She stepped forward with confidence, passing through the opening. She strolled along the gravel path, counting the turns. When she paused, the towering green hedges, straight as soldiers on parade, filled her vision. From the middle of the maze, the clip-clip of shears and the low murmur of the under-gardeners carried as they trimmed the hedges into submission.
Jocelyn continued until she’d almost reached the center. Not wishing to disturb the gardeners, she retraced her steps and exited the maze without difficulty.
The gardens burst with color and precise plantings, a real credit to the gardeners. Every single bush and hedge was trimmed to perfection for the festivities in two weeks. Mrs. Allenby was fussing, her frowns indicating panic, but Jocelyn felt confident 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. 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. Cassie became sulky at times, but her behavior had improved recently, and she’d finally accepted 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.”
“That’s not true!” A sick sensation 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 are pleased with the progress.”
“Interfering old busybody.” Hannah plucked haphazardly at lavender heads and tossed 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 indicated Hannah was following her. Once 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.”
“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, 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 blinked. 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. Can I take her 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.
Of course. Tilly was right. Jocelyn hurried to the bell and rang it stridently. Thankfully, Woodley arrived seconds later. Between him and Tilly, they dragged her mother away from Hannah.
“Let me kill her!” Elizabeth screamed, wriggling and kicking at Woodley and Tilly. Thankfully, they kept her restrained.
“You’d better lock her in her room,” Jocelyn said in a worried voice. “I’ll take care of Hannah.”
“She belongs in Bedlam,” Hannah spat, probing the wound on her cheek with her fingers. “I didn’t even look sideways at her. She attacked without provocation.”
Hannah had every right to her fury. Jocelyn winced on seeing the blood oozing from the scratches her mother had inflicted. She swallowed, stunned by the suddenness of the attack and concerned for Hannah and her mother.
“Let me treat your face.” Jocelyn crossed the room to summon a servant. On her return to Hannah’s side, she urged her to a seat and inspected the wound. Jocelyn pressed a clean handkerchief against the scratch in an attempt to halt the bleeding. Scratches were nasty and often became infected. St. Bridget’s nose! What had come over her mother? Hannah had done nothing to inflame the situation. She hadn’t acted rude and didn’t deserve the treatment her mother had meted out.
After holding the handkerchief to Hannah’s face, Jocelyn lifted it to inspect the damage. She grimaced.
“Is it that bad?”
“I’m afraid so,” Jocelyn admitted, heartsick. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand why my mother attacked you.”
“She should be locked up.”
At this point Jocelyn couldn’t dispute the fact.
A maid arrived, and Jocelyn issued instructions. Soon the maid returned with the requisite supplies and a bowl of warm water. Jocelyn set about cleaning the wound, her mind replaying the moment of the attack. No, she didn’t understand. Her mother had been entirely at fault, her behavior like an unpredictable beast. And if she could attack both Tilly and Hannah, what would happen if her mother took a sudden dislike to Cassie?
With the bleeding slowing, it was easy to see the tracks of gouged flesh. It would take time to heal. Jocelyn hoped it wouldn’t leave a scar. She’d never forgive herself.
“I have ointment I’ve used with great success. It keeps infection at bay and speeds healing.” As she spoke, Jocelyn carefully rubbed the herbal scented salve into the wound.
“Will it scar?” Hannah asked.
Jocelyn bit her lip. “I don’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“What if she’d attacked Cassie?” Hannah demanded.
“I’m sorry,” Jocelyn repeated. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“How?”
“I…” Jocelyn trailed off because saying more would mean admitting the truth. Her mother was out of control, and she needed to be locked away for everyone’s safety.
“Jocelyn, I understand you’re reluctant to secure Elizabeth, but what if she hurts someone else? One of the servants or Cassie?” Leo’s arms tightened around her in the darkness of her chamber. The warmth emanating from him went some way to pierce the chill filling her body. “What if she hurts you?”
Jocelyn scowled against his shoulder. Knowing he spoke the truth didn’t make it any more palatable. “She doesn’t recognize me any longer.”
“That must hurt after the sacrifices you’ve made for her.”
Her eyes stung, and she blinked to clear them. “I wouldn’t do anything different.”
Leo pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his understanding and the lack of accusation helping her to think more clearly. He was right.
“I want one of the footmen present when you spend time with your mother.”
“But strangers seem to set her off. She becomes even more disorientated.”
“I won’t compromise on your safety.” His tone told her he meant every word. “The footman won’t need to enter the room. He can wait outside. Frank would be a good choice. He’s a sensible lad and is big for his age. Speak to him tomorrow.”
“Very well.” Jocelyn didn’t think her mother would hurt her, but she’d blame herself if Elizabeth injured Tilly or Cassie.
True to her word, she spoke with Frank the next morning, warned him of her mother’s behavior and took him to meet Elizabeth. She’d decided to spin her mother a tale, but the falsehoods weren’t required in the end. Her mother took a liking to Frank, which meant he could sit inside the room and keep a close eye on proceedings.
Preparations for the festival continued. Jocelyn and Cassie walked in the garden and watched the gardeners haul huge logs to fuel a bonfire. One of the under-gardeners clipped the grass on a flat field near the river in readiness for running races.
“What sort of games will we play?” Cassie skipped beside Jocelyn, her inquisitive gaze darting this way and that while she took in the different activities.
“We’ll have races. There will be a treasure hunt and people can explore the maze.”
“I like the maze. Father took me inside. It’s dark in there.” She shivered theatrically. “Hannah says there are ghosts.”
“I suspect it can be scary if you get lost and take a wrong turning,” Jocelyn said. “But I don’t think Hannah is right about the ghosts.”
“Is the festival tomorrow?”
“No, not tomorrow. Ten more days. One day for each of your fingers and thumbs.” Jocelyn held up her hands to demonstrate.
“Hannah is bringing a friend. She told me.”
“Yes, she is.” Jocelyn couldn’t contain her flinch. Hannah’s face looked terrible, the scratches swollen and angry. Jocelyn and Cassie had visited the castle earlier in the day to deliver more salve. She bit her lip as she recalled the wound marring Hannah’s smooth cheek. She hoped Hannah’s friend wasn’t put off by the disfigurement.
A yawn struck Jocelyn without warning. “Oh, dear. I think I need a nap.”
“I’m too old for naps,” Cassie said.
“A person is never too old for naps,” a masculine voice said.
Jocelyn let out an eep of shock, grabbed Cassie and placing her behind her as she whirled to face the newcomer. “Peregrine,” she said weakly when she recognized the man standing on the path.
“Sorry to startle you. I wanted to see how your mother is today.”
He hoisted Cassie on his shoulders, laughing at his niece’s cry of delight.
“I can see the whole sky,” Cassie said. “And the trees.”
“Can you see the maze? And the fruit trees in the orchard?” Peregrine asked.
Jocelyn forced a smile and listened to their chatter. Gut instinct said Peregrine hadn’t just come for a visit.
“Will you go back to London? After Leo…” He trailed off uncomfortably, but Jocelyn had no difficulty understanding him.
“Leo says he’s innocent.”
“Then why is he locked up?” Peregrine demanded. “Maybe it’s because he’s guilty.”