Revelation
As Leonora spoke of a headache, and Claude renewed his desire to go into the village, this time without Jocelyn, she claimed time to explore the estate’s grounds.
She had always enjoyed the absolute beauty of nature.
Assuredly, some of London’s parks were groomed and sculpted, but those parks could not capture the true glory of nature and, particularly, of skipping stones along a babbling brook or finding lichen clinging to the bark of a tree or smelling freshly turned earth.
She bent over to gather a handful of ivory-white pebbles along the branch of the River Seven that made its way across the Blanshards’ land, dividing the estate in two equal pieces.
It was the first time her heart found peace since she had arrived at Shard House.
Jocelyn was picking at a beautiful red rock embedded in the mud of the bank when a long shadow fell over the scene.
Startled, she looked up to see a man she recognized immediately.
He was the man she had seen under the London streetlamp.
He wore a white shirt, but no cravat, and an open jacket, as well as tall black boots.
He was not handsome in the classical sense, but he had a compelling expression; therefore, she could not force herself to look away.
Her first thought was to run, but she knew the idea to be foolish. “Who… who are you?”
“I am letting the dower house. Who are you?”
She noticed that he did not give her his name, so she responded likewise. “I am a guest at the main house.”
“This part of the stream is on the dower house’s land.”
She asked pointedly, “Does that mean you wish me to replace the pebbles I dug out of the mud?”
He scowled. His eyes were fierce. As she had noted previously, there was nothing soft about his features. Tall. Swarthy. He would make a good pirate. “Do not look at me as if you thought I mean to beat you with a stick because of unlawful trespass.”
She reached out her hand to offer him the stones, and he laughed, and his whole demeanor changed. The laughter held its appeal, washing over her and allowing her to give herself up to her own laughter.
“You are much prettier when you are not being argumentative,” he announced.
“And you look less like a foreboding pirate when you smile,” she countered.
“Do you know many pirates?” he asked.
“Quite a few.”
He smiled diabolically again.
Feeling awkward, Jocelyn started around him. “Good day, Mr. …”
“Mr. Brandon. Anthony Brandon.”
She nodded her farewell, but he caught her arm. “Might I encounter you again, Miss…?”
“Byers,” she answered. “My hostess would not approve.”
“And you always do what your guardians say?”
“I came here.”
“So you did.”
As she walked away, Jocelyn noted that Mr. Brandon had not delineated between “hostess” and “guardians,” and that thought brought her no contentment with their encounter.
*
Though Jocelyn had not mentioned her accidental acquaintance of Mr. Brandon, Leonora had heard of the man letting the dower house.
She had been a cross between furious that “riff-raff” had been permitted to claim part of her late husband’s legacy and something more fundamental.
Everything came to a head when a maid carried in the man’s calling card and not upon a silver salver, which was the standard in service.
“What?” Leonora asked sharply.
“A caller, ma’am.” The girl held out the card.
Leonora glanced at the card but did not take it from the maid’s fingers. “How dare he!”
“The gentleman says you are familiar, ma’am.”
“Absolutely not!” Leonora snapped. “Tell him I do not welcome strangers in my home.” Jocelyn wanted to say that she was a stranger, but she swallowed her observation. When the girl had not yet moved, Leonora screeched, “Out!”
Claude, meanwhile, hustled over to the window. “Very tall and thin. Are you confident you do not want a look, Aunt?”
“Sit, Claude!” Leonora ordered with a snap of her fingers.
“I am not your lap dog, Aunt!” Claude growled before he stormed from the room.
Leonora remained in a deep sulk throughout the day.
In the late afternoon, Leonora and Claude closed themselves off in the house’s study, supposedly going over the estate books; therefore, Jocelyn took her midday meal in her quarters.
Though she was confident Mr. Brandon was the man who had followed her in London, Jocelyn was becoming more afraid of her housemates than she was the gentleman.
Leonora and Claude had mercurial personalities that were frightening, at best. Jocelyn decided she would write to Margaret regarding returning to London, but she knew she must discover a means to post the letter in the village.
Jocelyn would not trust her housemates nor the servants to post it for her.