Josette

by Danielle Thorne

  “Edward!” Josette scolded.

  “What exactly does brash mean?” queried Amy.

  “Madcap and impetuous, and he could have included the pair of you.”

  In a matter of a short while, both of her companions settled into dozes. Josette reached for a twilight sleep as they bumped along but it eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Captain Carter staring. How he vexed her thoughts and feelings! She heard the deep resonance of his voice. She smelled the sea. She felt his manliness.

  Her thoughts tossed to and fro. He had honored her parents with his visit to Beddingfield Park. Did it matter that he had other commitments to keep? He had visited his aunt, distant and disapproving of his occupation though she appeared to be. And according to Caroline, he had overtures of charity that he attended to, albeit with little privacy.

  His behavior had indeed turned curious. She had blamed him for her brother's death and it had all been very unfair. Perhaps her father was right. She did lash out at anyone who brought her pain, undeserving or not. She wondered if he would call again at Beddingfield Park. Her stomach fluttered at the prospect. If he did, she promised herself, she would be more pleasant and fair, and as spirited as it was proper to be. She decided, as sleep at last devoured her, that she almost looked forward to seeing him again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Although she did not call after George's accident, Lady Berclair waited only five days before she returned the visit to Beddingfield Park. The monogrammed carriage rolled up the drive with four horses and a chilled driver. In the library, Josette was reading the ship-news and Edward penning a play, one in which he had promised Amy a part, when she herself bolted through the doors to announce the arrival.

  Edward hurried from the room.

  Josette snatched her wrap from off of a chair and patted her hair down in the reflection of a clock face. “How excellent of her to come,” she said, worrying that the nephew had, too. She shut the library doors behind her and crossed the hall with fingers clutching the fringe on her shawl.

  Voices from the drawing room made her pause until Hannah bustled past. “Lady Berclair's come,” she said breathlessly.

  “So I’ve been informed.” Josette could not find the courage to ask if Carter had as well. She pushed the door aside and entered, heart thrumming.

  Lady Berclair sat on the rose settee with Caroline beside her. The pair was dressed in velvet, and Caroline wore a blue pelisse that made her auburn hair gleam. Captain Carter, to Josette’s relief, was not present. She curtsied and took a chair opposite her mother and listened to Amy's chatter.

  “Goodness, child, you are well informed for a girl who must stay at home.”

  Ignoring Lady Berclair's hint that she should still be in sack cloth and ashes, Amy rattled on. “The weather is not too fierce this year. And mother says an occasional concert is not out of the way of things.”

  “We plan to have all of our friends to dine on Christmas,” announced Lady Berclair. “You will be spending a subdued holiday I presume?” She cast a baleful look at Lady Price, and Josette's mother nodded.

  “Well you are welcome,” Lady Berclair dared, but it held no encouragement.

  “We plan to spend a quiet evening,” Lady Price insisted. “And your sister, she will come from London?”

  “Yes,” Lady Berclair replied.

  Caroline made an amusing face for the girls' benefit, showing her opinion of the intended company. Her mother was saying that her sister's family and two married cousins, one with young children, would put in appearances.

  Josette could not resist chiming in. “Miss Berclair will have the opportunity to enjoy herself with the children.”

  The young woman bit her lip before coolly responding, “I love children as much as small animals, but in their proper place.”

  “I thought you were allergic to cats?” Amy asked. I put Aster out as soon as I saw you'd arrived.”

  “How thoughtful,” Caroline smiled, but it was more of a smirk in Josette's opinion.

  Edward who had been observing the feminine ritual of gossip no longer seemed able to restrain himself. He stood behind Josette's chair and leaned into it as he addressed Caroline.

  “You are a great horsewoman, I understand. My uncle says you joined the ladies at the first hunt of the season.”

  Caroline smiled, pleased, but did not blush at all. “Mr. Price, you should have joined us.”

  “I had rehearsals,” he said apologetically and motioned toward his own cousins.

  “Edward’s writing a play,” Amy tattled.

  “Indeed,” said Lady Berclair with her lips pruning. She turned on Edward like a distracted bull. “I knew your father, you understand.”

  “Yes, your ladyship. I am ever aware. My mother has written and made mention of it to me.”

  “Your father used to hunt with my husband. Efficient man. He never concerned himself with the theater folk.”

  “And he trained a bitch pointer for him.”

  “He was good with animals.”

  With soft words, Lady Price changed the course of the conversation in her firm way. “And your nephew, Captain Carter, how does he find the season?”

  “My nephew has taken leave.” Lady Berclair divulged this as if it wounded her. “He received his letter from Whitehall and 'wasted not a minute' as those sailors so coarsely say.” She frowned as if this were a disability of some sort. “But he enjoys the hunt.” She motioned toward Caroline whose chin rose. “Other than that his conversation does not please me, and he's very poor at cards.”

  Josette watched Caroline carefully and saw her simper again. She decided she was a conceited girl and that it was not as impetuous a judgment as she had doled out against Carter. Anxious to know and for some reason, bashful to admit her curiosity, Josette asked, “Will he will be back for Christmas?”

  “So soon? Doubtful,” Lady Berclair answered. “He said he would send word and thanked us for our hospitality.”

  Josette stared into the fire glowing from the hearth. Gone to Whitehall. His ship's repairs were more than likely complete. Heaviness thunked in her chest and settled there. Behind her, Edward inclined once more over the chair.

  “You must not stay away,” he chided Caroline. “We're always a player short at cards.”

  “Lady Price does not care for drawing room games?” Caroline accused.

  “Not at all, unless I am fervently beseeched.” Lady Price smiled. “You should join us for a night of games after Christmas as soon as your young charges have taken leave.”

  “Or perhaps before.” Caroline seemed unable to hid her displeasure at being cooped up with youngsters in wintry weather.

  Amy laughed. “You shall bring them here, and Edward and I will entertain them.”

  Josette felt Edward tense and smiled to herself. Children were not in his line of frivolity. “Yes,” she added, “and he will perform for them.”

  The ladies smiled, Amy laughed, but Edward pressed the back of her neck with a little pinch that made Josette join her sister.

  The Berclair women stayed for tea. After giving Lady Price her opinion of what remained to be endured for the period of mourning, Lady Berclair insisted her daughter help her with her thick wraps and ordered the carriage to be readied. They departed in a parade of fur and feathers.

  Josette excused herself to her room to lie down but first went to the window to watch the carriage disappear into the naked trees. She could not remember a time Lady Berclair had ever taken it upon herself to make the trip to Beddingfield Park. There were foggy recollections of the woman's trumpeting voice perhaps years ago, but nothing came immediately to mind.

  She traced the windowpane until the cold of the glass turned her fingertip numb. Captain Carter was gone. He had not sent word to Beddingfield Park. No goodbyes or further acknowledgements of their association. But why should he after she had all but thrown him off the grounds? And still, he had shewed forth kindness. Lady Berclair had probably come at
his request. Be mindful of the lieutenant’s family, she imagined him encouraging his old aunt.

  Since the concert, she had been unable to find little else to occupy her mind. Over and over the events of the night would play out in her thoughts, and always she would unavoidably dwell on Captain Carter leaning over to whisper, his stare across the room, and his firm grip on her hand as she lit into the carriage. Then there was that final look before he shut the carriage door. It was not one of reproof or distaste. She was not a romantic, but she knew the difference

  Josette's eyes rested on a group of yews across the grounds. Any of them would make a lovely Christmas fire. She had hymns to practice, for Amy was going to sing, and despite their mourning, her mother still planned to take baskets to the less fortunate of the tenants, with Edward accompanying her.

  Thank goodness for Edward, she thought to herself. The year's close would feel so final without him there. She thought of his fingers pressing into her neck and was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for his attentions to her family. After all, he had made no plans to hurry away.

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  Josette spent the morning before the eve of Christmas in front of the library hearth finishing an article by her favorite adventurer, the botanist Sir Joseph Banks.

  Amy got bored waiting for Edward to put down his pen, and wandered out, leaving them alone.

  “I'm going to walk today and this time you must accompany me.”

  Edward looked up from his work. “In this weather?”

  “I have a mission for you,” she said with a teasing smile.

  “I thought you enjoyed your solitude.” Edward got out of his chair, stretched languidly, and then settled on the carpet beside her. “Is it a secret mission?”

  “It is.”

  He leaned closer and Josette, suddenly unnerved, giggled. “Not that secret, Edward!” She pushed him away and he exaggerated her strength by rolling backward over his head. “You silly thing,” she laughed.

  “Whisper it to me.”

  “It's not that exciting, but it will have to do.”

  Edward put his ear to her lips, and she told him he would be climbing trees to gather a sprig of mistletoe.

  “Mistletoe!” he exclaimed. “Why I'd be honored to dress this old place up.”

  It's not in that bad of condition. I just want to surprise Amy and Mama when they get up in the morning.”

  “She shall have a hall full of greenery,” Edward promised.

  “And mistletoe,” Josette insisted.

  Edward moved his face in close. “And mistletoe.” He searched her eyes, his own glowing blue as the moon.

  Josette went very still. If ever there had been any affection in her heart for him, she certainly felt it now. She lowered her head, afraid her gaze would imply she wanted him to do something more, but was too late.

  “Josette,” he whispered, and before she could look up again, his lips were on hers, wet and pressing. She tried to protest, but he merely shocked her objections by kissing her harder. To her dismay, curiosity won out, and she allowed him to linger with his hand pinning hers to the floor while he investigated her mouth. The stab of shame came when the library door opened without warning.

  Amy flung it violently shut behind her and gaped at the couple snuggled up together.

  “Amy,” Josette stammered. Humiliation washed over her as she gulped to catch her breath.

  Edward said nothing, but hurried back to his chair and ducked his head back over his play.

  Amy stood frozen as if slamming the door behind her had taken all of her strength. Her face was pale and eyes large.

  “I'm sorry,” Josette said, jumping to her feet. She did not know why she apologized so, it simply tumbled forth. “What an awkward, terrible moment.” She went to embrace her sister, cheeks burning. She could not believe she had been so complacent.

  Amy stepped back. “I didn't know,” she said in a stricken voice. A tear welled over the rim of her eye and fell, leaving a fast, harsh streak.

  “Oh, it's nothing, no,” Josette said.

  She turned to Edward who finally raised his head long enough to casually reply, “We were just playing, kitten. It was nothing at all.”

  Josette nodded. Curiously, his detached acknowledgement did not pain her as much as her sister's distress.

  Amy stared hard at Edward before turning on her heel.

  “Amy,” Josette said, but her sister marched from the room. Josette turned desperately to Edward. “She's very upset. I must speak with her.”

  “She's angry.”

  “You should not have done it. It was utterly improper. What if she tells Papa?”

  Edward did not reply. He continued skimming over his work as if she had already left the room.

  Josette closed the library doors and scanned the hall for Bernard in the event he'd been loitering about. Seeing no one, she hurried up the stairs. The door to Amy's bedroom was closed. Josette knocked and tried to turn the handle, but the door was latched tight.

  “Amy?” She knocked once more. After a moment soft footsteps padded up to the other side, and the key turned in the lock. Josette was shocked at her sister's appearance.

  Amy's face was red and blotchy. Her eyes were glistening with distress. She turned away and sniffled into a handkerchief.

  Josette closed the door softly behind her and led her sister over to the bed. “Have I shocked you so badly?”

  Amy put her face in her handkerchief and sobbed.

  “Amy!” Josette whispered. “You must not think badly of me. I couldn't bear it.” She squeezed her tightly. “Please do not think that is how I spend my time with Edward in the library or with anyone else for that matter.”

  “How could you?” Amy begged, although it was muffled by hiccups and the handkerchief over her mouth.

  “It was nothing at all. One moment we were planning Christmas, and the next…”

  Josette struggled for an explanation. “I’m not sure how it happened at all, but it did and I’m dreadful sorry.”

  Amy wiped her face. “You said you did not love him. That you hadn't given it a thought.”

  “Well I hadn’t at first, but he's here now, you see. You know I have no expectations of matrimony.”

  “But it's expected. And if Papa discovers you let Edward kiss you, he’ll make you marry,” Amy said sadly.

  “No one is pushing me, and God knows I am grateful for it.”

  “But do you love him?”

  “I'm not sure. Does it really matter so much to you?”

  Amy lifted her eyes.

  In that moment, Josette understood. She saw in a flash Amy's constant attentions, her tagging along at his heels, the joy in his witticism and vivacity. The two shared such a love of the theatrical and relished the attention of one another. They were cut from the same cloth. “You have feelings for him.”

  Amy ducked her head and stared at her hands in her lap.

  “Oh Amy,” said Josette and she put her arms around her once more. “I had no idea. I was so caught up with myself I hadn't bothered to notice.”

  “You won't have to marry him.” Amy sniffled once more. “I'll stay at Beddingfield Park, Josette. I'll marry Edward, and you won't have to.”

  Josette laughed. “And should we inform our cousin of his good fortune?”

  Amy smiled at last. She sighed and leaned into Josette's shoulder. “He really is very wonderful.”

  “You don't miss his frogs?”

  Amy giggled. “I told you I'm not a child anymore. I've forgiven him completely.”

  The audacity of Edward's embrace and his subsequent snub toward Josette upon Amy's discovery, swept a fresh wave of emotions over Josette.

  “Of course, you've forgiven him,” she said. She pushed the irritation at her cousin away to consider later. “Who could not?”

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  By morning Edward had redeemed himself with his usual unabashed nature, and Amy had collected her emotions and stored them on
ce more in the forefront of her heart, if not blatantly on her sleeve.

  Edward accompanied Lady Price to deliver baskets in the countryside. She had been surprised at the pretty decorations Josette had strung up all over the house with the help of her two conspirators, who, after being cajoled into joining Josette on her outing, pretended to forget the tragedy that had played out in the library.

  While her mother was out, Josette made arrangements with Hannah for dinner and waited for the Egglestone’s to arrive. Her father had invited them, along with a Mrs. Mulgrave, a widow of two years. Josette hoped the gold ribbons and her candlesticks would cheer the party.

  She had watched her mother's face that morning as she took in the Christmas decorations. Her grateful smile did not reach her eyes, and Josette knew where her thoughts lie. She did not believe that George would have wanted the holiday to be a dismal affair and was determined to carry his spirit in her heart. He did love to be gay.

  She had just resigned herself to the drawing room with music sheets in hand, when noises at the front of the house drew her to her feet again. Her mother and Mrs. Mulgrave had arrived at the same time and the bustle of activity gave hope of a happy night. When the Egglestone’s arrived in their modest wool capes, it was as pleasant as she could have wished.

  They sat down to dinner with her father at the head of the table, and he made a lovely blessing over the fare.

  “Amy,” said Mrs. Egglestone, before she'd even picked up her spoon, “how are you coming along?”

  “I’ve hardly missed town at all,” Amy confessed. “I've kept busy with my studies and helping Mama.”

  Josette raised a brow but held her tongue. “And Edward has been a great distraction.”

  “Distraction?” he cried, offended.

  Josette laughed. “He's been wonderful company.”

  “I’m so pleased for you,” Mrs. Egglestone said. She made a pointed look at Josette, who recalled the earlier hints of affection between herself and Edward.

  Sir Robert said, “Edward has kept the dogs in good repair and both of my girls have now had their exposure to Raleigh.”