Mistress of Merrivale

by Shelley Munro

“If only all the other women in my life were so easily satisfied. Cassie wants a new doll and was very specific with her requirements.” His good humor faded. “Hannah put her up to it.”

  “Why don’t you purchase some extra cloth, and ask Mother if she’ll stitch some new clothes for Cassie’s existing doll? That might keep her happy.” She gave into her need and glanced around her, tension bleeding from tight muscles when she didn’t glimpse Boynton’s gloating, cruel visage.

  “Is something wrong?” Leo asked.

  “No. No, I’m fine.” Now wasn’t the time to discuss the matter with Leo, and besides, she was possibly worrying about nothing. After another surreptitious glance over her shoulder, she allowed Leo to direct her and her mother to another stall.

  She caught Leo watching her and offered him a bright smile. He didn’t return the sentiment, and her breath caught, uneasiness filling her now. She didn’t know him well enough to decipher what his changeable moods meant.

  “I need to go,” he said. “The footman will escort you to the dressmaker and then to the public house.”

  “Of course,” Jocelyn murmured. “You must attend to your livestock. We’ll see you later.”

  Leo tugged on a lock of Jocelyn’s hair. “Make sure you keep Gavin with you at all times.”

  “We will,” she promised.

  Once Leo left, they walked directly to Madam Marie, the dressmaker, with the footman trailing them.

  “Ah,” Madam Marie said. “The new Mrs. Sherbourne.” She shifted her gaze. “And your mother. I can see the likeness in the eyes.”

  “Good day,” Jocelyn said.

  “How can I help you today?” the dressmaker asked.

  “My mother requires new gowns, and I’d like to purchase two dresses for my stepdaughter.”

  “But of course.” Madam Marie clapped her hands briskly, and one of her seamstresses appeared to help with the measuring. “Did you have any specific styles in mind? Is the dress for a special occasion?” As she spoke, she started to take Elizabeth’s measurements, her competence telling Jocelyn that despite Hannah’s assertions, Madam Marie was a capable seamstress. The measuring took no time at all.

  “Is it possible to get dresses stitched for my stepdaughter’s doll? I thought it would be a good idea to match the fabric with Cassie’s new gowns,” Jocelyn said. “Mother is going to sew several, but I thought garments from the dressmaker would make her very happy.”

  “Mrs. Sherbourne, but of course.” Madam Marie pursed her lips. “I heard another girl has disappeared from Merrivale.”

  “Gossip travels fast.”

  “Two girls have gone missing from Tavistock,” Madam Marie said. “The butcher’s daughter vanished last month and no one has seen her since.”

  Jocelyn stiffened and glanced at her mother. She seemed content to look at pattern books plus the additional fabrics and trim the assistant brought to show her. “Two?” Why hadn’t anyone mentioned this? “Did they disappear without warning?”

  The assistant unwound a length of apricot silk and held it against Elizabeth’s face.

  “Neither of the girls had bad reputations. They were hardworking and well-liked.” Madam Marie leaned over and flicked the fabric to make it drape better, a faint frown marring her brow. She tsked under her breath. “No, I don’t think this color will do. Try the dark gray silk.”

  Not the kind of women who would run off with a man, then. No, something more sinister was at work here. Surely Leo—no! The knowledge she had of him wouldn’t let her suspicions gain root and grow. There had to be some other reason why young women were disappearing from the towns on and around the moors. “Have there been disappearances from other villages?”

  Madam Marie cocked her head, intelligence glinting in her sharp gaze. “It’s possible, although, I haven’t heard of others.”

  Jocelyn nodded, not inclined to discuss the matter further, and wandered over to look at the selection of hats and shawls. A green hat with a large brim caught her attention—the perfect thing to cover her distinctive hair. And if she added a shawl in a different color—yes, a change in her appearance might help her avoid Boynton until she spoke with Leo.

  “Do you have your stepdaughter’s measurements, Mrs. Sherbourne? The measurements for the doll?”

  “Yes, certainly.” Jocelyn rattled off the relevant information, having committed it to memory before they left home.

  “And which fabrics would you like?”

  “Mother, would you like to help me choose fabric for Cassie?”

  “I think you should take the pale blue and the red floral,” Elizabeth said decisively. Her cheeks glowed with exhilaration, an emotion that echoed in her eyes. No one looking at her, clad in her smartest yellow gown and a lacy cap, would suspect her of madness. She’d dressed carefully for her trip to Tavistock, driving Tilly to distraction with her demands, yet Jocelyn couldn’t help but smile. This challenging woman was the mother of her childhood—the ambitious one who pulled off splendid matches for her merchant class daughters. A pity the family situation had changed before it was Jocelyn’s turn.

  After Jocelyn extracted a promise from the dressmaker to complete the gowns and deliver them to Merrivale Manor within the week, they left the shop. Gavin pushed away from the wall and took up the rear, a silent sentinel.

  “I told you they’d manage to complete a gown in time for the party,” her mother said, practically skipping down the street. She skirted a smelly pile of refuse in the middle of her path. “You should have ordered a new gown too.”

  “Yes you did say that,” Jocelyn said, scanning the busy street in her peripheral vision. “I have plenty of gowns. I don’t require a new one.”

  “Your husband might decide to never purchase a dress for you again if you tell him that,” her mother said sharply, once again reminding Jocelyn of the past, and the shrewd woman who’d snared titles for Georgina and Charlotte.

  “He was very generous with you and Cassie.”

  “Yes, I was surprised. You were lucky with your choice of husband. Most men wouldn’t have married you.”

  “Mother,” Jocelyn hissed, her gaze darting to check for Boynton and eavesdroppers.

  While she was pleased her mother was showing signs of her old self, she could do without the criticism. She bit back the sharp words on the tip of her tongue—the fierce resentment because if it wasn’t for Jocelyn embracing the life of a courtesan, they would’ve all ended up out on the street, penniless and desperate.

  “The Bull and Bear. This is our destination.” Thank goodness. Hopefully her mother would focus on something else now that they’d arrived at the pub.

  Leo had booked a private room, and Jocelyn gratefully followed the innkeeper who directed them to his best parlor. Although small, the room was clean and comfortable with several upright chairs and a sturdy wooden table.

  Jocelyn wandered to the window and massaged her right temple, pressing carefully with her fingertips in an effort to shift the dull throb that had settled since leaving the dressmakers. A respite from the flurry of the marketplace would prove welcome, give her time to think. She let out a muffled snort, directed more at herself than anyone else—a chance to sulk because her mother wasn’t appreciative of her sacrifices.

  A heavy sigh followed, the burden heaped on her as she considered the choices she’d taken since meeting Leo. Foremost came the worry that she’d made a huge mistake in accepting his offer. What if she’d placed her mother directly in danger?

  “What do you think of Tavistock, Mother?” Jocelyn caught a glimpse of a tall man who looked a bit like Boynton, and she drew back from the window in two jerky steps.

  She was a married woman. Boynton no longer held power over her, but he could cause trouble for Leo if he decided to inform everyone of her past. Jocelyn’s hands trembled, and she clenched them in an effort to calm her escalating dread. There was no reason for Boynton to visit Dartmoor. His family held estates in Yorkshire. And Leo…what would he think when she
told him? She and her mother had brought a stack of problems to Merrivale Manor.

  Leo arrived after seeing to his business, and her mother immediately regaled him with their activities since they’d parted. Her husband listened closely, and Jocelyn felt her heart turn over. Gratitude filled her at the way Leo treated her mother—like an adult instead of an imbecile.

  “And what about you?” Leo asked. “Did you also attempt to spend all my money?” His eyes glowed, and Jocelyn basked in the warmth of his regard. When his charm focused on her like this, her concerns and doubts about their marriage seemed trivial.

  “I managed to spend a little,” she said. “I didn’t expect the market to be quite as crowded. Are the weekly markets always this large?”

  “The locals use the market to sell their wares and exchange news and gossip.”

  “So the market is mainly for locals?”

  Leo shot her a dissecting glance. “Why?”

  Jocelyn checked on her mother and saw she’d moved to another window to watch the antics of a juggler down on the street. She leaned nearer to Leo and lowered her voice. “I saw Boynton in the crowd. I know he saw me.”

  “Boynton? The man Melburn mentioned from your past?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re safe at Merrivale.”

  She groped for Leo’s left hand as she recalled Boynton’s frequent rages. “What if he spreads gossip about my past? Surely you don’t want rumors spread throughout the parish?”

  “To my knowledge, the man hasn’t been near Merrivale. His presence is a coincidence, and he’s merely traveling through the area.”

  Jocelyn doubted that very much and feared nothing good could come from her sighting. Boynton had seen her, and the man wasn’t a good loser. “His estates are in Yorkshire.”

  Leo smoothed his fingertips across one cheek. “Sweetheart, you’re worrying unnecessarily. He can’t hurt you, but if it sets your mind at rest I’ll make some discreet enquiries.”

  “Thank you.” She shivered when she registered his hot intent. If it wasn’t for her mother’s presence, she was positive he’d haul her into his arms. Warmth suffused her cheeks.

  He smiled down at her. “I’m sure there’s no need for concern.”

  Despite her qualms, Jocelyn nodded and released her desperate grip on her husband. “I’ll give you a description. He’s about your height but stockier in build. He usually wears a wig, and keeps his blond hair clipped short. He enjoys his food and drink, and it shows in his body.”

  A tap on the door announced the arrival of their meal. The innkeeper’s wife and a maid entered the parlor bearing trays. The moment they lifted the covers on the food, the delicious scent of beef and oyster pie drifted through the air. Lunch was a gay affair, full of laughter and good spirits, and Jocelyn allowed the delicious food and jolly atmosphere to lull her trepidation.

  Jocelyn woke in an empty bed again, despite the early hour. When she’d first arrived at Merrivale, Leo had risen early, but not before kissing her awake. Slowly, things had changed. He visited her bed and sometimes left after they’d made love. Last night he’d stayed, or at least he’d remained until she fell asleep. She stared at the ceiling, trying to quell the doubt demons popping to life.

  There was a good reason for Leo’s absence. Yes, he was likely in his chamber now. She found herself out of bed and halfway to her dressing room before the thought properly formed. The Oriental rug was soft beneath her bare feet, her footfalls silent as she approached the connecting door. She opened the door and peered into Leo’s chamber.

  He wasn’t there.

  His bed hadn’t been slept in, the covers smooth and unruffled.

  Deep in thought, she retraced her footsteps, but instead of returning to her bed, she drew back the curtains. A wash of light lit the horizon, backlighting the contrasting dark silhouettes of the trees and piles of stone. On impulse, she let the curtains fall back and dressed rapidly in one of her simpler gowns. A peaceful walk in the garden would be a lovely way to start the day.

  Outside, the cool breeze tugged at her hair, and she wished she’d taken the time to confine her locks in some manner. She grasped it with one hand and tucked the long ends haphazardly beneath her shawl. The sky was lighter now, and the cheerful chorus from a nearby thrush was almost deafening. Her skirts brushed the dew-covered plants, absorbing the moisture and dragging under the weight.

  Choosing to take a path she hadn’t explored before, she strolled without purpose, merely enjoying the slice of morning quiet. She rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt, her hand rising to cover her gaping mouth. Hurriedly, she drew back out of sight but not before the image of her husband embracing Arabella seared to her mind.

  Anguish gripped her chest, making it difficult to draw breath. She stumbled in the opposite direction, only wanting to escape. Leaves and branches grabbed at her clothes and clung. She burst into a clearing she hadn’t seen before and sank onto a seat in a folly overlooking the moors. She couldn’t stop trembling.

  The betrayal…she should have expected it. Most men had mistresses. She’d been a mistress, seen the way men behaved and heard the way they spoke about their wives with contempt and sniggers.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of the tears pouring down her cheeks. She wiped them away with an abrupt rub of her hand. Their marriage—despite the odd way they’d come together—she’d expected they’d deal well together because they’d started with honesty. A snort erupted. At least there had been openness on her part.

  No wonder Arabella treated her so shabbily. She resented Jocelyn’s presence at Merrivale. Perhaps she’d expected Leo to offer her marriage.

  Gradually her tears stopped. A chill from her damp clothes sped through her, yet she was hesitant about returning to the manor. The last thing she wanted when she felt so raw was to confront Leo and Arabella. She took a deep breath, striving for composure. After smoothing her hair, she stood and retraced her footsteps.

  Jocelyn nodded to the footman when she entered the Great Hall. Low feminine laughter came from the morning room, and when she heard the rumble of a masculine voice, she turned in that direction. Lifting her chin, she sailed through the doorway, scanning the dark-paneled room to ascertain the occupants.

  Leo and Arabella.

  “Good morning,” Leo said in a warm voice as he walked toward her, his obvious intention to embrace her written on his handsome face.

  She dodged behind the table and slipped into one of the vacant chairs. “Summon a maid please, Leo. I require hot chocolate.”

  “Of course.” Leo’s smile of greeting faded into a frown, and she could feel his disapproval. Too bad. She wasn’t the one in the wrong here.

  “Good morning, Arabella.” Jocelyn couldn’t keep the bite from her voice.

  Arabella quirked an eyebrow, a hint of mischief twinkling in her brown eyes. “Whatever is your maid thinking? Surely she didn’t send you out this morning looking like that? Your hair…” She trailed off, her gesture toward Jocelyn leaving little to the imagination.

  “I went for a walk in the garden.” Jocelyn’s pulse raced a little faster. “There is a heavy dew on the ground this morning, and the wind was blowing up on the hill.” She swallowed and knew she couldn’t pretend. “I saw you this morning, out in the garden.”

  Chapter Six

  Arabella started laughing, the sultry tones grating on Leo’s nerves. No wonder Jocelyn had seemed standoffish on her arrival in the breakfast room.

  “Leo and I—”

  “Stop.” The malicious expression on his cousin’s face thrust Leo into action. He wouldn’t allow Arabella to taunt Jocelyn. “You’ve made your views clear, cousin, and I choose to ignore your advice.”

  “You shouldn’t have married her.”

  “But he did,” Jocelyn snapped. “Leo is my husband, and I wish you’d accept the fact instead of sniping at me.”

  Leo was pleased to see his wife wasn’t allowing Arabella to bully her. “T
hat’s enough from both of you.”

  “Why were you embracing Arabella in the garden where anyone could see?” Jocelyn asked.

  Honest and to the point. Leo almost smiled. The more time he spent with Jocelyn, the more he liked her, and he didn’t regret his marriage in the slightest.

  Arabella smirked, her brows arching. Without saying a word she was throwing out insinuations, implying their relationship was less than proper. “Why do you think we were embracing?”

  “Enough, Arabella.” He went to his wife and squeezed one hand before releasing it. “Arabella is homesick for Spain and her family, and I was comforting her. She’s decided to return to her home, but she is worried about Cassie.”

  “Of course you must go home.” Jocelyn helped herself to several slices of bread and took a seat at the table. She spread a lavish spoon of raspberry jam over one of the slices. “I am sure one of the maids would be willing to look after Cassie.”

  Leo admired her calmness, given Arabella’s provocative behavior and the scene confronting her in the garden.

  “If it weren’t for my sister’s illness I’d remain here at Merrivale.” Arabella became defensive, as if worried she was disappointing him and she needed to make excuses.

  Leo knew better. He could see the steam building. It was time to step in before Arabella had one of her tantrums.

  “Arabella, I’ve told you how much I appreciate the way you’ve helped with Cassie, but you must do what is best for you now. Your sister needs you,” Leo said, ringing a bell to summon a maid. With the order for hot chocolate and more tea for him dispatched, his attention returned to Jocelyn. “What do you intend to do today?”

  “Mother wishes to visit the village, so I thought I’d take her on an outing this morning. I believe we’re to have visitors this afternoon.”

  Leo nodded, taking a mental note to stay away from the manor until the callers departed. “Don’t forget to take a footman with you.”

  “Of course,” Jocelyn said. “Arabella, would you like to come to the village with us?”

  “Thank you, but I have to pack.” Arabella smiled sweetly, yet it didn’t reach her eyes. It was a smile he’d learned to dread in a woman. Perhaps it was best his cousin was leaving. The last thing he needed was her causing more trouble.