Mistress of Merrivale

by Shelley Munro

  Their search produced nothing except hoarse voices and sore throats. Jocelyn grew increasingly concerned, her gaze flitting from person to person. Where was Leo?

  A new arrival spiked a spark of relief until she realized it was the vicar and his wife. Jocelyn forced a gracious welcome and ushered Vicar and Mrs. Allenby toward the steps leading inside the manor. When she noticed Susan wringing her hands, her stomach flipped in sympathy.

  “Susan, please go and order refreshments from the kitchen, then I’d like you to continue your duties in my chamber. I’m afraid I ripped the hem of my brown gown yesterday.” When a mulish frown appeared on Susan’s face, Jocelyn spoke rapidly, forcing herself to issue the order when she wanted to embrace her maid and offer comfort. “I’ll send word as soon as we hear something.”

  Susan’s face crumpled, but she gave a crisp nod and left.

  “Why whatever is wrong?” Mrs. Allenby asked. “Have we arrived at a bad time?”

  “One of our maids has vanished. She’s normally very reliable, and her disappearance is quite out of character.”

  “Oh, dear,” the vicar said.

  “This doesn’t sound right, especially since the other maid turned up dead,” Mrs. Allenby said in a troubled voice.

  “Is Leo out searching for her?” Vicar Allenby asked.

  “Yes,” Jocelyn said, guiding her guests into the parlor. She bit her lip, wondering why she’d lied.

  Mrs. Allenby sat on one of the damask chairs and Jocelyn dropped onto the settee.

  “Have you summoned the parish constable?” the vicar asked, selecting a sturdier chair more suitable for his robust frame.

  “No, we’re still searching the grounds and the riverbank in case of an accident.”

  “But you don’t think an accident has befallen the girl,” Mrs. Allenby said.

  Jocelyn grasped her hands together, tightly in her lap. “No.”

  Silence filled the parlor.

  “I think it would be a good idea to summon Arthur Cartwright, given the similar circumstances to the other maid’s disappearance. Do you have paper? I’ll pen a note for Arthur,” the vicar said.

  A maid appeared with a tray of refreshments, and Jocelyn bade her escort Vicar Allenby to Leo’s study to procure paper and ink, all the while hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. She hated to implicate Leo.

  With the note dispatched, the vicar returned. Jocelyn sat on the edge of the settee, ignoring her tea, while she strained to hear any new arrivals outside.

  “Mrs. Sherbourne?”

  Jocelyn shook to alertness. “I’m sorry. I’m worried about Ella’s disappearance.” A vexed screech sounded in the distance. It repeated again, this time much closer.

  Mrs. Allenby’s brows rose. Vicar Allenby leapt to his feet.

  “My mother,” Jocelyn said wryly. “I’d know that sound anywhere.” Heat suffused her cheeks. Heaven knows what her visitors thought. Sometimes she wished… No, this arrangement was working well. Her mother was enjoying the move to Merrivale. Besides, Leo had agreed to house her mother. He wouldn’t go back on his word. A third squeal right outside the door had Jocelyn moving. She wrenched open the parlor door. “Mother. We have guests. Come and meet the vicar and his wife.”

  “Jocelyn, Tilly won’t let me go outside. I want to walk in the garden.”

  “Mrs. Allenby, Vicar, this is my mother, Mrs. Townsend.”

  “I’m so pleased to meet you.” Mrs. Allenby walked forward with an outstretched hand. “I understand you’re a very talented seamstress.”

  Jocelyn held her breath until the tension seeped from her mother’s shoulders. A broad smile broke out on her face, showing a hint of the beauty both of Jocelyn’s older sisters had inherited. Ah, it seemed the period of relative calm would continue. Jocelyn hid a grimace. At least as long as they let Elizabeth go for a walk later.

  After several minutes of animated chatter between Mrs. Allenby and Elizabeth about stitching and fabrics, Vicar Allenby said it was time for them to leave. Trying not to display anything apart from a polite social facade, Jocelyn escorted her visitors outside.

  “Let us know how the search progresses for your maid,” Vicar Allenby said in a gruff voice. “We’ll keep our eyes and ears open.”

  A horse and rider approached down the driveway.

  “That will be Captain Cartwright,” Mrs. Allenby said. “He’s a good man.”

  Jocelyn nodded, trying to ignore the trepidation churning the few sips of tea she’d managed to swallow. Leo hadn’t returned yet.

  Chapter Five

  Leo cut through the moors, fatigue like a heavy sack of wool bearing down on his back. The scratches on his cheek throbbed, but at least the wound had stopped bleeding, and he’d helped the woman to escape her captives. Loud shouts drifted on the breeze, jerking him from introspection. His eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun as he noted the even spread of the men. They were searching for someone or something.

  Leo hastened his pace. As he took the turn in the path, he came face-to-face with one of the Merrivale footmen. “What’s happened?”

  “Ella disappeared last night.”

  “Susan’s sister?”

  “Aye.”

  Leo’s left hand curled against his thigh, and he ignored the footman’s curiosity to hurry in the direction of the manor. At the edge of the copse of trees that bordered the gardens, he slowed to a brisk walk. This might prove difficult. He’d have to play cool and limit the information he gave or else he’d become a suspect. If he didn’t say anything he’d appear guilty because of the bloody scratch on his face.

  Damn.

  The first person he saw was the parish constable standing on the front steps with Woodley and Jocelyn. Captain Cartwright was a scrawny man with fair skin. At present his nose was pink, burned by the hot summer sun. A knife scar dissected one cheek, courtesy of a brigand he met while soldiering in France. Now retired from the army, he wore a cocked hat on top of his pristine white wig. The man was honest and known to refuse bribes. He was also intelligent and determined when it came to seeing wrongdoers received punishment.

  Leo changed course, deciding to clean up first. Minimize the damage. He slipped around the back of the manor and entered via the library window, left conveniently open by one of the servants—a man creeping about his own home.

  A startled gasp made him stiffen. He whirled around to face the source.

  “Leo, what are you doing?” Jocelyn slapped a hand to her breast on seeing his cheek. “What happened to your face?”

  How the hell had she got here so quickly? He struggled for a plausible excuse. “I stopped by the inn and thought a man was going to injure his wife. I got into the middle trying to stop him.”

  Her gaze flickered to the scratches again, and he witnessed the exact moment she jumped to her own conclusion.

  “Where have you been?”

  “My sheep have been disappearing. I think someone is stealing them, and I decided watch the flock to see if I could catch the culprit.” He maintained eye contact, despite the brazen lie, despite wanting to stare at the shelves of books instead. The ease with which he managed his deceit made his gut swirl with an edge of nausea.

  “I see.” She paused without taking her attention off him. “Ella is missing.”

  He didn’t have to force his concern. “Is it possible she has run off with a man? The footman she was walking out with?”

  “You knew? I didn’t think you’d approve of servants courting after your valet ran off.”

  Some of his tension slipped away. He even managed a laugh. “My staff—our staff deserve the same happiness as us. As long as their trysts don’t interfere with work I see no reason to stop them.”

  Jocelyn nodded, her hands gripped in a bunch of fingers, constantly moving, clasping and unclasping. “She hasn’t run away. She and Gavin argued last night. Gavin stomped off and left her alone, and she hasn’t been seen since.” Jocelyn’s gaze searched his features, lingered on the scratches
again. “Captain Cartwright is interviewing everyone. He’ll want to speak with you.”

  Damn. Cartwright would take one look at his face and start asking the same questions that were rattling around Jocelyn’s mind. “I’ll clean up and meet the constable in the parlor. Offer him refreshments and tell him I’ll be down shortly.”

  “Of course.” Jocelyn’s modulated tone held no inflection, and the turmoil in him started afresh.

  A screech of feminine rage roared down the passage and into the room where they stood. Leo had never been so happy of an interruption from Elizabeth. “Perhaps you should attend your mother.”

  “Of course.” Jocelyn walked away without a backward look, yet her disapproval swirled around him like eddies of Dartmoor fog. She didn’t believe him.

  Leo strode from the library and up the stairs to his chamber. He needed to prepare himself for Arthur’s interrogation, and he couldn’t afford a slip.

  Dressed in fresh clothes and with the scratches on his face treated, Leo walked down the stairs to meet his fate. He encountered Woodley at the base of the stairs.

  “Woodley, have they found Ella?”

  “Not yet, Mr. Sherbourne. We’re widening the search out onto the moor.”

  Leo gave a curt nod. He’d search for her in the abbey ruins this afternoon, not that he thought he’d have any more luck than those already searching.

  “Sherbourne.” Captain Cartwright stretched out a hand in greeting, a frown forming when he noted the scratches on Leo’s face. His gaze grew intent. “Meet up with a she-devil?”

  Leo barked out a laugh. Trust Cartwright to get straight to the point. “I committed the cardinal sin of getting between a woman and her man. They were fighting, I thought she was in danger, and when I tried to rescue her, she turned on me.”

  “Where was this?”

  “The Running Footman in Tavistock.” Leo wanted to rush into speech, to add more details but knew it would be a mistake. Too much information would raise Cartwright’s suspicions even more. “I understand one of our maids has disappeared. Which areas have been searched? Does it look as if she’s run off?”

  “My gut tells me there is more to this situation than a maid running off after a tiff with her suitor. Everyone I’ve questioned confirms she’s a good girl, one unlikely to run away. Time and again this morning I’ve heard she’s a hard worker, a responsible woman. I fear someone has taken her unwillingly.” Cartwright’s voice grew harsh, his need to find the girl resonating in his voice. “You didn’t see her on your way back from Tavistock?”

  “No, the road was quiet today.”

  Cartwright’s eyes narrowed. “So no one can vouch for your whereabouts?”

  “No,” Leo said. “Apart from the man and woman in the pub, and I don’t know their names.”

  “That makes things tricky.” Arthur rubbed his chin in an absent manner.

  Leo wasn’t fooled and worried Arthur saw too much. A problem. He remained impassive, his practice with Ursula bearing him in good stead. “Was there anything else? I’d like to join one of the search parties.”

  “If I think of anything I’ll ask you later.”

  Leo gave a curt nod and strode from the parlor, glad to have the interview finished. For now. Gut instinct told him Arthur would seek him out again, asking more about his visit to Tavistock.

  This wasn’t over.

  Tavistock market, one week later

  Jocelyn strolled through Bedford Square and studied the St. Eustachius church. The fine stone building dominated the square, but today farmers, merchants and shoppers brushed past her without a second glance, impatient to complete their tasks. Hawkers hollered over the shouts of their competitors, tempting customers to purchase their wares.

  The scent of food, fresh flowers and perfume warred with the less appealing aroma of animal entrails, droppings and unwashed bodies.

  “Get yaw ’ot pies here!”

  “Oranges. Oranges!” A young girl jostled Jocelyn, trying to get her attention. She held up a glossy orange, waggling her wrist to better display the fruit.

  “No, thank you.” Intent on catching Leo and her mother, Jocelyn forged through the crush of bodies, taking care to watch for pickpockets. She was glad of the footman at her back. The hubbub of market day sounds grated on her after the peace of the moors. Even so, she was happy to be away from the tension of Merrivale for a few hours. Since Ella’s unexplained disappearance, everyone was on edge, glancing over their shoulders with suspicion.

  Her nose wrinkled at the acrid cooking smoke coming from the nearby stall. The stallholders were doing a brisk trade in bowls of meat and turnip stew. The vendors next door were roasting chunks of venison over a fire.

  “Jocelyn, do hurry,” her mother called.

  “I’m right behind you.” Trailing Leo and her mother, she held her breath until they reached the sweeter smelling cloth stalls. Leo had promised her mother they could purchase several lengths of fabric. The dressmaker would be the next stop, and her mother could hardly contain her excitement.

  Leo… Jocelyn’s mind kept returning to his absence the night of Ella’s disappearance, the scratches on his cheek he said had occurred in a fight. Her gaze lit on Leo’s solid back, and a heavy sigh gusted from her. She didn’t know what to think. Her heart kept telling her he was a good man, but her head wouldn’t let go of the facts. Two murders and one disappearance. They all pointed at her husband.

  She bumped into someone and their bread toppled to the ground.

  “Watch where ya goin’.” The owner of the bread shot her a black glare before snatching up her loaf and brushing off the dirt.

  “I’m sorry,” Jocelyn said, stopping abruptly to avoid a further collision. Now was not the time to think about Leo’s duplicity. She darted around the bread seller and hastened to catch up.

  Jocelyn saw Leo maintained a firm grip on her mother’s arm to stop her darting from stall to stall. An excellent strategy. The last thing they needed was a frantic search through the crowded marketplace. Still, it was good to see the bright color in her mother’s cheeks and the way she chatted with Leo with nary a sign of madness.

  “Look at that blue damask,” her mother screeched. “See the color. The fineness of the fabric.”

  Jocelyn chuckled as her long-suffering husband allowed her mother to drag him over to inspect the bolt of cloth. She glanced along the line of stall holders, studying the rest of the fabric with a practiced eye. Was there a stall selling lace and trimmings? She turned to scan the offerings in the other direction. A gap appeared in the crowd and a familiar face loosed a startled gasp from deep in her throat.

  Boynton? Here?

  Shock held her rooted to the spot before self-preservation asserted itself and propelled her to scurry behind a large woman carrying a basket laden with vegetables. God, had he seen her? Apprehension twisted through her veins and nausea shot upward to clump in her throat. She swallowed rapidly, her breathing hoarse with panic.

  He must’ve seen her.

  Boynton hadn’t been a gracious loser when Melburn won her off him in the poker game. He’d threatened to blacken her name, but Melburn had whisked her away and used his influence to protect her from harm. But now…now Boynton—he was here.

  She peeked from behind the woman and glimpsed Boynton again. Her ex-protector hadn’t changed. His dress was immaculate, his coat well-tailored and elegant. He wore a wig and his ruddy features told of his love of port and roast beef. His bulldog face bore a long, narrow nose while his lips curled upward in a cruel twist.

  He was scanning the crowd, as if searching for someone. Oh dear. She’d have to tell Leo, would have to involve him in the nastiness of her previous life. Dread lent her speed. She elbowed her way through the crowd with scarcely an apology for her rudeness. She scuttled behind the nearest stall, her breath coming in harsh pants. From her hiding place, she watched Boynton. He cut through the crowd, using his size to bully anyone who dared bar his way. His pugnacious face was set
with determination. She crouched against the side of the stall, a tremor weakening her knees.

  Questions ran through her mind with breakneck speed. How had he discovered her location? Was it a coincidence or had he followed her from London? And even worse, had he known her address in London all along and simply bade his time?

  “Lady, you all right?”

  Jocelyn’s head jerked in the direction of the young woman, towing a grubby child. “I’m fine. I felt ill for a moment.” She had to move. Soon. Her mother would require Jocelyn’s opinion on the bolts of cloth available for sale. Where was the footman? He’d be frantic, wondering what had happened to her. “I believe the feeling has passed now.”

  The young woman trudged on her way, juggling control of the child and her basket of shopping.

  “’ere, you! Wot you doin’ loitering behind my stall?” an irate woman demanded.

  “I’m sorry.” Jocelyn repeated her excuses and stepped furtively from hiding, craning her neck in her search for Boynton. If she remained lurking here, Leo would start asking the same questions. Besides, he wouldn’t leave her mother on her own in the market. He’d want to turn her mother over to her before he left to view livestock. She glanced both left and right. Boynton had gone—at least for the moment.

  “Mrs. Sherbourne.” The footman’s voice held relief.

  Jocelyn offered him a wan smile. She spied Leo and her mother in the row of fabric stalls and made her way over to them, maintaining a wary eye for Boynton.

  “Leo purchased three lengths of cloth for me,” her mother said, almost girlish in her enthusiasm.

  “And I thought you’d need my advice on your purchases,” Jocelyn teased, fighting her impulse to scan the faces in their vicinity.

  Leo grinned, the curve of his lips doing strange things to her pulse rate. Despite her worry, Leo only had to turn his charm on her and her anxieties lessened. It was his Sherbourne smile. He flashed it in her direction and every sane thought fled. She squeezed her thighs together as her mind drifted to the joy she found with him in private.