“You mean since you last teased her?”
“And she hasn’t forgiven me.”
“Amy has lost a brother and a Season. One can hardly blame her.”
They walked along in companionable silence for a time, each lost in private thoughts. When Josette could not withhold her curiosity any longer she asked, “How did you find Captain Carter? Was he everything you expected him to be?”
Edward gave a low whistle. “I expected more of a buccaneer, the way George would tell it.”
“Whatever is he doing on shore leave?”
“That old bucket took a beating. They say it will be months before Persephone is keeled upright. Besides, that sort never shirk their duty. They certainly don’t aspire for half-pay.”
“I doubt his wages are of any concern. According to Amy, his father is a well-to-do gentleman through trade, though he is a second son.”
“I suppose he didn’t find the church his cup of tea.”
Josette gave a little laugh at the picture of Carter delivering a sermon. “George did think the world of him,” she admitted.
“And look where it got him.” A dark cloud fell over Edward’s face. He kicked an acorn with the toe of his boot and watch it crash off into the undergrowth.
“You mustn’t blame yourself, Edward,” Josette said kindly. “You could never tolerate a row on the lake without turning green.”
“Not so,” Edward said, half-smiling despite his ire. “And I don’t blame myself. I blame, well, gads, I blame everyone. That Carter for one. Whatever happened to man overboard? You don’t leave a man behind.”
Josette stopped so suddenly she tripped. Only Edward’s arm kept her from falling. “But I thought he was wounded? In battle, or...” She trailed off as Edward shook his head impatiently.
“That wasn’t how it went at all.”
“I didn’t read the papers. Not after Carter came.” Tears brimmed in Josette’s eyes.
“He drowned, you know. Went overboard in the storm.”
The revelation hit Josette in the chest. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“You know they lost the Jackal and the Marianne?”
Images of her brother flailing in the angry sea dropped Josette to her knees. “Oh, George, I had no idea.” It was as if she were hearing for the very first time her brother was gone. God, let it have been quick.
There came a small spurt of tears that Josette hurriedly wiped away. After many consoling pats from her cousin, she collected herself. She would not allow herself to grieve, she determined, though the fresh pain settled like a sharp stone. George was gone. There was nothing she could do about it now.
“Captain Carter did not have the courage to tell us,” she informed her cousin in a croaky voice. “He led us to believe that battle had done him in, that he’d died a hero.”
“He was a victim of the weather and misplaced footing,” said Edward. “That doesn’t make him any less a hero.”
To Josette, it did not matter. The anger she’d felt toward Carter returned with a vengeance. “Blast him, the coward. He should have told us the truth of it."
CHAPTER FIVE
Edward had to content himself with walks in the garden and card games in the drawing room. Sometimes Amy would sing and Josette would play. She did not consider herself a proficient on the pianoforte but could manage enough to carry Amy’s beautiful voice. Together the sisters were a pleasing duo, and it certainly had an affect on Edward’s inclination toward the arts.
He borrowed a copy of Gulliver’s Travels from the library and performed for their amusement, pulling his face into comical caricatures and adapting his voice in a way that made it necessary for Josette to fight irreverent laughter. His aunt and uncle tolerated this with subdued patience and on some occasions even joined in polite encouragement.
One morning, following a capital breakfast, Sir Robert took his nephew hunting. A pastime they once shared with George, the pair took off with the dogs and Sir Robert's favorite fowling piece.
Josette watched them go off in the morning mist with a pang. Autumn's chill was in the air, warning Christmas would soon be upon them. Perhaps with Edward about, it would not be so melancholy.
A honking school of geese passed over the house.
Wrapped in a shawl, Josette could not keep away from the window.
Lady Price looked up from her needlework and asked, “How do you find your cousin, Josette?”
“As charming as ever.”
“You are spending as much time together as you did when you were children.”
“I have always enjoyed his distracting company.”
Sleepy and tousled in a becoming fashion, Amy declared that he was not quite as charming as Captain Carter, but would do.
“You’re too generous, Amy,” declared Josette. “Besides, Edward's taken with you. He says you've grown into quite the young lady.”
“I'm not so very young.”
“You're not eighteen.”
“And my birthday is just around the bend.”
Lady Price intervened. “Amy, dear, don't be in such a hurry.”
“Well someone must,” her youngest child insisted.
“Why?” Josette knew she'd been baited but posed the question to defend herself, for she guessed Amy’s line of thinking.
“Someone must marry Edward.” Amy gave Josette a pernicious look that made her look spinsterish.
Josette said, “I’m in no hurry to do that, I assure you. He's been here but a month, and I've not been led to believe that he has given the idea any thought.”
“Then you must give him a hint.”
Josette laughed outright. “And does seventeen make you a proficient in matters of matrimony?”
“We certainly know you are no proficient.”
“Girls,” said their mother in warning, but neither heeded her soft tone.
“Are you concerned about the entailment, Mama?” Josette searched her mother to see if she shared the same sentiment.
Her mother did not answer at once. When she did, her words seemed chosen with great care. “It is not a pleasant ideal for me or my girls but we certainly cannot pretend it will not happen.”
“And you wish me to pursue my cousin?” Josette asked with a lopsided smile.
“I wish you to follow your heart.”
“I wish you to be sensible and unselfish,” echoed Amy.
“Your sister is the most sensible and unselfish young lady I have ever known.”
Josette smiled gratefully at her mother. “I have always been fond of Edward. And you know I would do whatever was necessary to save Beddingfield Park.” She darted a glare at Amy. “But I do intend to follow my heart.”
“I intend to follow mine, too,” said Amy.
“And who has your heart, daughter?” Lady Price gave Amy an inquisitive stare as Amy flushed at the cheeks.
“No one, Mama. But when it happens, I will be loyal and true.”
“And silly and idealistic.”
Amy stuck her tongue out at Josette with a brief glance at her mother to spy if she'd been seen. “I'm not all silliness anymore. You still treat me like a child.”
Josette harrumphed. “You lecture me on sensibility, but you keep your head in the clouds.”
“I'm not the one waiting at the window for Edward to return.”
Josette laughed though her face warmed. “I'm sitting in the sun. It's cheering.”
“Mama,” Amy interrupted, “how much longer shall we have to wear this dreadful black?”
Josette watched the clouds of heartache pass over her mother's face. “For as long as is proper,” she replied in proxy.
“Why it's nigh on four months.”
“A few more would not do you any harm,” Josette snapped.
Lady Price played with a loose thread on her dress, wrapping it slowly around her finger. “I know it does not suit a young girl like you,” she said at last to Amy.
“Edward says it makes me look pale. Like a por
celain doll.”
Unable to resist, Josette reminded her that Edward was a great admirer of porcelain dolls, and how he used to hide hers. Amy made a cavalier face and threw a lock of hair over her shoulder. “It is not my fault you turn as brown as a coffee bean in the sun.”
Josette choked on her reply before throwing her work to the floor. She marched from the room and out of the front hall with no wrap other than her shawl. It, too, was brown.
The sun had broken free of its cloudy restraints. Josette sought its warmth, not caring if she toasted her nose. The nerve of her very own sister. Amy's opinions were given too freely. Josette studied the tree line of Beddingfield Park. They were almost naked now, their leaves dull and lifeless in piles on the ground. It gave the park a vulnerable feeling. She felt vulnerable herself. To have Edward there would have been completely different had George been there, too.
Edward was their favorite cousin, but with the entailment, he was obligated more by duty than affection to visit his relatives. Had he come out of compassion or necessity?
She wished to know what it was he and her father were discussing. They were out in the great forest, discussing their futures even now. Was Josette a part of that discussion? Would she indeed someday be mistress of Beddingfield Park?
Her stomach fluttered nervously at the thought. Marriage to Edward would be...interesting, she determined at the last. He was a colorful, exciting man, and life would never be dull. He was certainly a handsome fellow.
Her stomach quivered at such thoughts, and she pushed away her mind's desire to imagine what it would be like to be kissed by him. It was easily done, and she realized with a twinge of disappointment that dwelling on such possibilities were of no temptation to her. Kiss Edward? Why she'd just as soon as kiss that awful Captain Carter.
≈ ≈ ≈
The Season was months away, and the residents of Beddingfield Park, Josette realized, were becoming restless. Her papa was short-tempered and her mother anxious. Amy fretted over fabrics for her new wardrobe, and Edward, tired of the simplicity of country life and mourning, all but sulked in the library.
It was with much relief, politely disguised by all except Amy that the invitation arrived, just in time for Lady Price to allow her daughters to change out of their black. All of them missed George's gurgling spirit, but remembering him made the place limp and forlorn.
“Who is it from, Mama?” Amy danced around her mother's ankles like an excited kitten. Edward strode into the drawing room eager for news of any sort.
“It's from Lady Berclair.”
Josette inwardly cringed. “What does Captain Carter's aunt want with us?”
“It's not a letter, it's an invitation,” cried Amy, who visibly paled at the insinuation that the post this day might not make her happy.
“Come Aunt, let us have it. Shall I read?”
With a faint smile, Lady Price handed the delicate card over to her nephew.
“It is an invitation,” said Edward, and he nodded at Amy as if they had conspired. “Not a se’night from today.” He looked up to his aunt for approval. “An evening of music. Nothing wild there.” Though he declared it so, there was anxiety in his eyes.
Amy threw herself to her knees and put her head in her mother's lap. “Please, Mama, a quiet evening. There won't be any dancing to be sure.”
“I'm sure, too,” Josette said wryly. “I don't imagine that his aunt is any different than himself.”
“Josette,” scolded her little sister, “why must you always criticize poor Captain Carter? I bet he's a splendid dancer.” She got up and twirled around.
Edward caught her by the hands, and they sailed about the room together laughing.
Josette looked questioningly at her mother. “Shall we go, Mama? Is it too soon?”
“I think it would suit all of you to have an evening out. I’ll speak with your father.”
“You won't come?”
Her mother shook her head. “No. Your cousin will be an excellent companion. Besides, the invitation doesn’t name me.”
“But of course it wouldn't. We'll give you a day of rest, with no silly young people to bother your nerves.”
“My nerves are very well, thank you,” her mother said.
Amy tore away from her partner and flounced back to the settee gasping for breath. “What shall I wear, Mama?”
“Your lavender will do. Or the dark taffeta.”
“That old gray thing? Let Josette wear her gray gown.
Lavender suited the both of them to some degree. Gray did not.
“I’m not to play am I?” asked Josette, displaying her frown outwardly now. “I’m a terrible performer.”
Edward rushed to her defense. “You’re uncommonly sufficient.”
“Maryett Austen and the Sparrow girls are masters of the pianoforte. Not myself.”
“You shall sing with Amy!” Edward jumped from his seat and did a happy jig that made his aunt stare. “And I shall do a monologue from Hamlet.” He grabbed the edges of his waistcoat and began a recitation in his deep voice.
Josette laughed. “Oh, Edward!” He could be so silly but his cheerfulness was infectious. She doubted the great Lady Berclair would allow any acting at her concert. She glanced at her mother and pursed her lips. “I believe Amy has run for her wardrobe.”
“You should wear the gray silk you’ve been saving.”
“It’s so bright,” Josette argued feebly.
“Nonsense. It’s cheerful, and it flatters you.”
Josette sighed. The color of smoke and dull weather. Of course it did. She left the happy folk in the drawing room and tiptoed to the study. Peeking through the cracked doors, she saw her father sitting idly at his desk.
“Come,” he croaked at her soft knock.
She took a seat across from him and smiled. “You’re feeling better.”
“I’m a hearty old dog.”
Josette chuckled. “But not a sea dog.”
“No,” he smiled.
“Lady Berclair has sent us an invitation to play.”
“Play?”
“Music. Mama, of course, has declined.”
Sir Robert motioned with his heavy cheeks toward the correspondence heaped on his desk. “Perhaps I shall get some of my letters finished.”
“Are we that much of a disturbance?”
“No, you are not.” His eyes took on the lost look he sometimes carried. “I never thought I'd miss the thundering stampede of so many feet.”
Josette chuckled. “And frogs and screams?”
Her father smiled, and the frost melted away in his eyes. “You were never afeared of Edward's tokens.”
Josette shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “No, and I am still not. Shall I write Lady Berclair and accept?”
“I'm sure your mother will be happy to. She needs the distraction.” Sir Robert glanced out the window at the unusually tepid weather. “I do not. Boshannon is wild to get out,” he remarked about his dog.
“I don't think I could tolerate another bite of pheasant,” murmured Josette. The park beyond the drapery had caught her eye as well.
“Perhaps Lady Berclair will have something more to your liking,” her father reproached.
“I did not mean it,” Josette clumsily replied. “I'm not sure that I'm anxious to reacquaint myself with her ladyship.”
“She's tolerable, and a visit out will do you good.”
“I'm sure it will do Amy good.”
“It will,” agreed her father with a sadness that said how much he missed his son.
“Well I shall not be going anywhere, Papa, not to sea and not after beaus.”
Sir Robert studied Josette with an amused look. “You will make your own way. I've no doubt of it.”
“George always said that I would never do for marriage because of my temper, and never do for sea because of my--” Josette laughed quietly, “my temper!”
“You have a fine temperament. Always righteous.”
; “You flatter me, Papa.”
“I always know when my Jo's in a fit that something's not right.”
Josette flushed at her father's term of endearment, which he had never in her memory used. “I’m sure George would have something to say about that, too,” she mumbled.
“Yes, indeed.” her father stretched and leaned over an open drawer. “According to Captain Carter, your brother had much good to say about you to everyone he met. The man was as well informed of my family as myself.”
“Or so he presumed himself to be.”
“He's a good sort of man. A capable leader. George would have never rallied for a man any less courageous.”
“I just don't understand,” said Josette, “why he felt it his duty to bring us the news.”
“It was an easier blow,” her father insisted. “And word had not yet arrived. Besides, he has family in this part of the country. Lady Berclair, in fact.”
“Yes, I know. It was very capable of him to kill two birds with one stone.”
“You're unusually harsh on him, my dear.”
Josette gave her father a wry look in defense. “You did say I had a righteous temper.”
“When it's not misdirected.”
Her vicious slap of Amy still in her mind, Josette could not dispute him. “I'll go tell Mama you approve.”
Her father nodded. “And shut my door behind you.”
CHAPTER SIX
The carriage ride to Ashford Hall was a distance, and Amy and Edward relished every moment of it. Josette was not inclined to be jostled about. Not that it made her ill, but she would have preferred to walk her legs off than listen to the loud, unbounded prattle of her two companions. She stared out the window with subdued impatience until the Berclair's estate came into view.
The property was flat with few trees. The house itself towered like a hulking gargoyle. A gray monstrosity, it featured soaring columns and an enormous terrace with stairs at either end. A footman helped her out, and she tried to stretch unnoticed as she crept up the steps. A small crowd of guests moved in a line through two great doors into the marbled hall.
“Captain Carter,” stuttered Josette when she saw him. She could not believe her eyes.
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