Josette

by Danielle Thorne

  Beddingfield Park entailed! But of course she’d always known it. Somehow something inside of her had refused to remember.

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  Once in the solitary confines of her chambers, Josette’s mind tried to grasp the meaning of her brother’s death and the procedure of the entailment that would follow when her father passed. The idea that her home would fall into someone else’s hands, even her amusing cousin’s, was beyond comprehension. Where would she go? What would happen to Hannah? Who would cherish the hidden cove with her little bench?

  George had rationalized his sea service as one that would bring in money to refurbish the park. True, the estate’s income was sufficient to sustain the family and its tenants, but time had begun to wage war on the house itself.

  She thought of her parents struggling to be brave in their hour of pain. They had always treated one another with an enviable respect. Despite the common knowledge that her father had not married up to secure the interests of the park, her mother’s small dowry had never mattered when it came to their affection. Would knowing George’s ambitious intentions, and that Edward was to receive the entailment, change them all forever?

  One worry washed over the next until her head ached. The food she had managed to eat sat in her stomach like a heavy brick. Her heart, which lately seemed to race off on its own and at the most peculiar moments, seemed barely able to move at all.

  Neither her mother, nor Hannah, came to check on her. Perhaps they thought she wanted to be alone. But she had been alone, terribly and desolately so, since Captain Carter had ridden into their lives.

  When night drifted over the house, Josette slipped from her bed. Her blankets no longer felt inviting. The room seemed to suffocate her. Throwing on her dressing gown, she fled down the hall, her slipper-covered feet making little sound. She paused at Amy’s door.

  “Amy?”

  When Josette peered into the room, Amy was turning the flame up on a lamp. She jumped. “You frightened me.” She, too, had changed out of the confines of her evening dress, but with help.

  “Where are you going?”

  Amy carried the lamp across the floor as if on her way out. “To George’s room. I wanted to tell him goodnight.”

  Josette smiled. “You used to creep into his room every night while he was at his desk.”

  “It drove him mad. He despised interruptions.”

  “Like Papa.”

  “But he dealt with it far better,” Amy giggled. “George chased me back out with pillows or flying stockings, not with frowns or threats.”

  “Idle threats,” Josette answered, fast to defend her humorless father. “Besides,” she said softly as they moved down the west wing toward George’s room, “George didn’t have the weight of the park on his mind. That would have come later.” Josette couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice with her last remark.

  Amy took her hand and sighed. They tiptoed into their brother’s darkened room and to their amazement found a small fire glowing in the hearth.

  “Why it’s just like he’s still here,” sighed Josette.

  Amy looked up to examine the hastily patched-up ceiling. “And now it will be Edward’s.”

  Josette’s emotions surged at the mention of the change of hands.

  As if she had already given it much thought, Amy continued, “I suppose one of us will have to marry him. And I certainly don’t find him suitable.”

  “We won’t have to marry him,” argued Josette, although the idea made sense.

  “Someone will have, too.” Amy pouted. “You can’t expect it to be me. I’m only seventeen.”

  “And marriage is all you’ve thought about since the day you were born. I’m not interested in that droll institution, and who says Edward will have either of us?”

  “But what will we do?” cried Amy. “Where will we go?”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Cousin Edward will get Beddingfield Park,” sniffled Amy. “We’ll have no fortune, and no one will want us.”

  “We’ll have fortune enough.” Impatiently, Josette tried to push away the rational thoughts that deluged her. She could not think about the future now.

  “I’m ruined,” hiccupped Amy after moments of mutual grief. “The Season is over before it’s begun. Why did he have to die before the Season?”

  Something deep inside of Josette snapped. She seized her sister by the shoulders. “You had your Season, you selfish chit!”

  Amy tugged away. “I can’t go to parties now. I’ll have to wait until Easter. He’s ruined everything.” Perfect curls shook adamantly with each thrust of her stubborn chin.

  Crack!

  The sound of Josette’s palm striking her sister’s cheek reverberated like lightening. “Don’t you ever say that again.” Her voice was hard and shaking.

  Amy crumbled to the floor with hands over her face. She whimpered like a wounded puppy. In the darkness across the room, a sudden groan from the chair at George’s writing table made Josette spin about.

  Captain Carter stepped into the firelight. A broad specter, his face reflected an expression of disapproval. Josette swallowed, mortified at what she had done and that he had witnessed it. Amy’s sobs seemed to repeat the abominable act over and over.

  “Get up,” Josette said softly, but her gaze did not leave the captain’s face. She grabbed Amy by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “Go to bed.”

  Amy allowed herself to be steered toward the door, unaware their quarrel had been observed. Josette waited until Amy hurried crying down the hall before shutting the door softly and whirling on Carter.

  “How dare you spy on us!” she hissed.

  “I was not spying.” Carter’s countenance held no remorse, yet Josette detected a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. They should have been black holes in the dark room but they seemed to glow.

  “You could have made yourself known. That was a privileged conversation between my sister and myself.”

  “You interrupted me, Miss Price.”

  “And what right have you to be in my brother’s room?”

  “As much a right as you.”

  Josette felt her eyes nearly pop from her head. The man had a way of infuriating her as quickly as a blow came to sea.

  “You are a guest in this house. That does not give you the right to lurk about in private chambers.” His hours spent with Amy in the drawing room came to mind. “Nor,” she added, “does it give you the right to dally with my sister.”

  Carter stiffened. A flash of anger streaked across his face and for the first time Josette felt slightly afraid. Now she might see the man who would order ten lashes for drunkenness, or worse, the man who could run down a ship twice as large as his own.

  “If you imply, madam, that I led her to believe I had any romantic intentions, you are mistaken.”

  “Am I?” Josette gave him a challenging glare. “And what about my father? What are your intentions with him? Did you come for his forgiveness or do you think to take my brother’s place?”

  This last query was a new idea that came into Josette’s mind from nowhere, and so considering it, she watched Carter’s face carefully. It seemed to turn with a wheel of emotions.

  “I came to Beddingfield Park to pay my respects. Nothing more.”

  Josette realized she was trembling. Everything that came out of this so-called gentlemen’s mouth seemed to cut her very soul.

  Captain Carter’s voice returned to its flat, emotionless timbre. “I will be gone by morning.”

  “See that you are.” Josette swept out of the room with her nightdress floating behind her. When she got to her own chambers, she remembered Amy but couldn’t face her. To think that she would stoop to striking her own sister filled her with shame. She would tuck her sister in the next evening as promised, and for this night, force herself to forget about big, brooding Captain Carter.

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  She watched him go. As soon as her room had begun to shimmer w
ith daylight, she’d risen and wrapped herself in a shawl. At the window, dawn rose over the foggy woods while black geese flapped toward some unseen siren. She’d tossed and turned the entire night, unable to push her troubles from her mind, unable to stop thinking about him. The household began to hum its stretching song and not long after, his horse was brought around.

  Captain Carter strode from the house dressed in a clean blue frock, gold trim shining from his jaunty bicorn. He ignored the footman and leapt effortlessly onto his mount. Whatever goodbyes proffered to her family had been accomplished. He did not look back as he cantered down the drive toward the smooth highway.

  She watched him grow small and refused to acknowledge the uneasy knot in her chest. It was as if it had all been a dream. Carter would go back to his ship. There would be a new first lieutenant. The Persephone would head back out to sea, and somewhere from beyond George would watch over them all.

  Josette sighed deeply. The sun’s rays crested over the trees and swept across the grounds. Life would go on, and so would she. George would have ordered her to “make it so.” She smiled at the pale girl looking back at her in the glass.

  Poor Cousin Edward. He would not know what to do with the girls of Beddingfield Park.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  One cloudy morning a commotion at the door echoed throughout the house. The happy sounds drew Josette and Amy hopefully out of the drawing room, for both were listless from the coverlet of mourning that had fallen over Beddingfield Park. Hannah was jumping up and down like a little girl, and Bernard was laughing his deep, throaty cackle.

  They found Edward Price standing at the door with his arms flung open wide. “Edward,” Josette cried.

  “Cousin!” he answered. “Your letter reached me just before I left town.”

  “We’re so happy you have come.” Josette saw uneasiness in Edward’s happy blue eyes. She took his hand. “There’s no need to be ill at ease,” she said, squaring her shoulders soldier-like. “Mama has aired out your room and Papa oiled his guns.”

  Edward blinked at the announcement that Sir Robert was polishing his weapons. “I haven’t been hunting in ages.”

  “But you love it so,” said Josette in disbelief.

  He smiled again, all care wiped from his face.

  Amy was hunkered down against the stairwell, as if trying to make herself small.

  “Miss Amy Price.” He gave her a deep bow. “My, you’ve grown.” He looked her up and down then back at Josette, who did not miss the sheepish blush on his cheeks.

  “Do come in,” she said, breaking the spell. They hurried him into the drawing room.

  It felt like Christmas with him there. Edward, with light brown hair tied back, had a fair complexion that George had once labeled milk-maidish. Although lean, fast, and just as boisterous, Edward did not like to get dirty. His attention leapt from one form of entertainment to another, which made him a fascinating conversationalist and attractive companion. Josette listened politely to his accounts of the London Theater, while Amy’s lips pursed in disapproval.

  “The stage?” she said, as if the words tasted bad.

  “I only dabble, though I’ve just finished writing my first play. I plan to pursue a tribute to Florizel and Perdita with another writer after Twelfth Night.”

  “A Shakespeare man,” said Josette.

  Amy added, “Our aunt must be very proud.”

  Edward broke out another charming grin. “You’re still angry with me, aren’t you, kitten? What happened to that last toad I left in your reticule?”

  “I’m not your kitten.” Amy’s face changed from pink to red and pink again. She glared at Josette as if she’d encouraged him.

  “He’s only teasing.”

  “I wasn’t his kitten then, and I’m certainly not now.”

  Josette shrugged at her cousin. “Sensitive.”

  “Ah,” Edward said sagely, “then that much has not changed.” He sank back on the settee spreading his arms like a falcon. “My mother is not unhappy I’ve decided to pursue the arts. In fact, she’s intrigued.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Josette said.

  “As for my father,” he said with a reluctant look, “I’m certain it would have not been his first choice of occupation for me.” He glanced heavenward as if his father was glaring down in disapproval.

  “Well I hope you don’t expect Papa to congratulate you.” Amy turned about with an impertinent look on her face. “He’d rather see you at sea than near the theater.”

  “Like George, you mean? There was no reason at all for George to go.”

  At Edward’s reminder of why he was there, Josette frowned darkly, but at her sister. “There’s no need for insults. George joined because he felt it was his calling. I’m sure he would have wanted Edward to follow his own heart.”

  Amy and Edward stared at one another until he had to scratch his ear. He crossed a leg in Josette’s direction and gave a telling grin.

  “Speaking of naval matters, I met your Captain Carter at the opera house not a fortnight ago. He was with some younger woman in a becoming blue gown.”

  For some reason this was not exactly what Josette expected to hear. “He was with us, you know,” Josette explained. “He brought us the news.”

  “I know.” Edward patted her hand as tears glimmered in her eyes.

  “I thought he had relatives in the country. I suppose the lure of the city drew him back again.”

  “I’m sorry I could not be here,” said Edward.

  “George would have understood,” Josette reassured him.

  From the window, Amy scowled. “We found Captain Carter to be a remarkable gentleman and a great comfort.”

  “And you a great comfort to him, I understand.” Edward turned back to Josette. “We have a common friend,” he explained, “who introduced me to his lovely companion. When I mentioned I was shortly to leave for Beddingfield Park, he seemed taken by surprise, and should I say it?” His eyes twinkled, “Envy?”

  Josette bristled. She would have preferred to know Carter’s companion was old, not pretty. Why? asked a little voice. Because he deserved it, she assured herself. “I don’t know what he could possibly envy here,” she said aloud. “Here, Mama will smother you with affection, and you will have to go shooting with Papa every day.”

  “With no time for monologues or dramatic discourses,” was Amy’s sugary addition.

  “I’m sure I shall survive it all.” Edward glanced at Amy. “He did ask me to give his regards. Especially to you.”

  Amy did not mask the smile of satisfaction.

  “I don’t suppose he had anything to say about me,” said Josette.

  “Why would he?” asked Amy, taking her seat again. “You were hateful and snobbish.”

  “He was pompous and cold.”

  “Most of them are,” Edward interjected. “Officers, you know. All formality and propriety.”

  “There’s certainly nothing wrong with propriety,” snapped Amy. Seeing Josette’s disgruntled look, she added, “And you have never liked anyone without George’s approval. And Captain Carter so handsome.”

  “Handsome?” repeated Josette. It was she that scrunched her face up this time. Not her kind of handsome. He was too tanned, too serious. He walked stiff and probably danced like a wooden puppet.

  “Captain Carter is not nearly as handsome as he fancies himself to be,” said Josette. “I find George’s summation of him to be spot on.”

  “And what was that?” asked Edward, leaning forward.

  “Prone to far too much self-reflection.”

  “Yes,” Amy argued, “but he also wrote that he was a prime seaman, clever as a fox, and one of the greatest shots he had ever seen.”

  “No wonder he admired him so,” admitted Edward, “but do you think he would admire him now? Making the rounds of the ton?”

  “His ship is in the dockyard,” Amy said.

  “He should be recruiting,” Josette grudgingly complained, “
or at his estate, if he has one.”

  “He’s the second son of the Carters of Ipswich. They don’t need him there,” Amy insisted.

  “But do they welcome him?”

  “He loves his father well.”

  “And how do you know all these things?”

  “If you had paid him any attention, Josette, you would, too.”

  It was all Josette could do not to rebuke her sister but they had not yet recovered from the night she had struck her. Their feelings remained tender and cautious.

  Josette made a wry face for Edward’s benefit. “Cousin, please do not mention that loathsome Captain Carter. I fear my sister and I do not agree about him.”

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  Edward was invited to his uncle’s study. Lady Price’s absence was excused as an illness, which everyone knew to be a chronic headache that had not receded since Captain Carter’s departure.

  Josette was aghast at her parents’ subdued welcome. It was not Edward’s fault George had died, neither had it been any avarice on his part that the estate be entailed after her father passed.

  They took dinner with stiff smiles despite Edward’s liveliness. Josette tried harder than them all to keep their spirits afloat. After a tortuous half of an hour in the drawing room at cards, Edward suggested the girls accompany him on a walk and promised to keep them wrapped. Josette went for her shawl but Amy declined, leaving her two elders to walk about the park unrestrained in conversation as the sun set.

  “You cannot imagine my reluctance in coming to you at this time,” Edward began as soon as the couple had escaped past the lily beds.

  “It’s expected.”

  “How can it be? I’m offensively overdue yet have arrived with you still in your black bombazine.”

  “We know you come to comfort us.”

  Satisfied that he had not earned her disregard, Edward changed the subject with a study of the treetops overhead. “Your sister has grown into a lady since I saw her last.”