≈ ≈ ≈
Mrs. Egglestone immediately grasped that something monumental had occurred. She gave Josette time to herself and ignored the wan countenance. There were only days left until Josette departed for home, upon which it was assumed that Mrs. Egglestone's sister would have recovered from bringing yet another child into the world.
After so many days, and countless hours of walking with the older girls and rocking Henry by the drawing room window, it was time for Josette to go.
Manny brought her dresses and freshly washed unmentionables to be packed into waiting trunks.
Mrs. Egglestone shooed her servant from the room and helped Josette fold her gowns. She had held her tongue for a good many days, quite an achievement for a woman who liked to be kept abreast of the current news. She said nothing for a while, then as if her curiosity had burst loose from its bindings, asked, “Well my dear, we should love to have you again in the summer if you don’t go to London.”
“It will depend upon Mama, you know.”
“You’re anxious to be home again.”
“To see how the narcissus come along. I've cross-bred a pink with a yellow and can't wait to see what has sprung up.”
“You never know what will shoot up from the earth after sleeping all winter-long.”
Josette gave a shake of her head. “I feel like I've slumbered all winter to be sure.”
“Your mourning is over if you choose it to be,” Mrs. Egglestone said. “Now you can change into gowns the color of narcissus and butterflies and enjoy your Season.”
“I’m not sure if we're going this year.”
Mrs. Egglestone clucked her tongue. “That would be a shame. Amy will be eighteen by the by.”
“I know. But that doesn't yet make her a spinster.” Josette grimaced as Carter’s proposal shot to the forefront of her mind.
“And Captain Carter,” Mrs. Egglestone said in an abrupt turn. “Would you see him in London?”
Josette struggled for a response.
Mrs. Egglestone added, “He did tell me when last he called that the Persephone would sail on the seventeenth. I believe he spent all holiday in preparation, and the expected orders came.”
“I’m afraid he did not confide as such to me.” Josette's heart ached in her chest for she had thought of nothing else since his departure. The afternoons with the children she had so enjoyed upon her arrival had become tedious and eternal. Grasping for something to add to cover her unhappiness, Josette said, “He did say he had called at Beddingfield Park.”
“Yes, thoughtful man,” said Mrs. Egglestone with a knowing smile. “It was good of him to call on us, although I think he had a purpose in mind.” She gave Josette a questioning look, which was ignored.
Her letters to her family Mrs. Egglestone must now have assumed were for the captain. Did she really believe Josette would write to a man she was not betrothed to?
“He is often at Bedfield you know, and to leave money for the Lovejoys.” She sighed, raised a brow. “You know, my dear, one must admire a man for taking on another's duty.”
“You mean the boy?” Josette flushed at the memory of her accusation. “I assumed it was his.”
Rather than look shocked, Mrs. Egglestone replied, “Indeed, I must confess it has crossed my mind a time or two, but ‘Judge not that you be not judged,’ and all that.” She waved her hand as if shooing away something her husband had conjured up.
“I suppose it could belong to another gentleman,” Josette admitted. “Perhaps he was called upon by favor.”
“Or family,” mused Mrs. Egglestone. “Nonetheless, I have decided that if he were fathering children and leaving them on our doorstep, he would have been more delicate. And certainly more ashamed. Of that I have seen nothing. It is a duty thrust on him by unfortunate circumstances and some failure on his part or another, or so he confessed to me.”
“Then he bears a heavy conscience.”
“We all do when we must grapple with the consequences of those we love, though it is often unfair.”
Josette mulled over this scrap of wisdom as she put her last pair of stockings into the trunk. Carter’s supposed outrage at her knowledge of the little boy had instead been offense after she accused him of the responsibility. Had she erred? “Mrs. Egglestone,” said she, “did he mention when he was to return to England?”
Surprised passed over the woman's face and Josette read her wonderment of what had passed actually in her drawing room between the captain and her visitor. She snapped the trunk and sat upon it taking Josette by the hand. “No, but I would be happy to find out if you must know. We clergy wives, you see, have unlimited resources for information.”
Josette smiled rosily. “It is only that I have left some things unsaid.”
“Bother, Josette Price,” Mrs. Egglestone scolded, “then you must find a way to tell him at once.”
CHAPTER TEN
Edward was waiting on the steps of Beddingfield Park. He helped Josette out of the carriage and spun her about. “I told you I would miss you while you were away.”
“You missed me? Where is Amy? And has Papa not been informed of my arrival?”
“I’m sure he would have, had he'd been about. He's taken Gardner out to fish so that we may have carp for dinner. Cook promised me, and Hannah will make her keep it.”
Josette chuckled. “There’s no waiting until dinner. Tell me there's a biscuit left somewhere in the house.”
“I'm sure I've eaten them all. My aunt insists.”
“Mama is never hungry when there are other mouths to feed.”
“She's missed you, too. We've been waiting for you to come. Our play is ready to perform.”
“I'm afraid I didn't find occasion to study my lines.”
“But there's only four! Surely you can remember four simple phrases.”
Josette took off her bonnet as they passed into the cool air of the vestibule. “Oh, Edward, I've so many other things on my mind.”
“But you promised!”
“And I'll keep it.” She reached for his hand and gave it a sisterly pat. “Don't fret, cousin.” She hurried off to her mother's apartment and found her at her writing table.
“Josette! No one told me you'd arrived.”
“They're probably in the kitchen cooking Edward's dinner.”
“That young man. He eats and eats.”
“And dictates the menu, I understand?”
Lady Price gave a small smile. “He is our guest.”
Josette sighed. “I like the sound of fish, Mama. Don't listen to my complaints.”
“Tell me everything.” Lady Price looked her over, searching for something she did not appear to see.
Josette knew what it was about. “Captain Carter called in Bedfield.”
“Yes,” her mother said, twirling a pin in her fingers. “We've been waiting for news.”
“Oh, Mama,” Josette exclaimed, and the emotions so carefully bottled up since the proposal bubbled out. “You would not believe my surprise.”
Her mother smiled faintly.
“I had no idea…”
“You are an appealing young woman. Why does it surprise you?”
Josette flushed at her mother's candor, realizing at the same time she expected an announcement. “He came only weeks ago. And he did make an offer, Mama, but I could not accept him.”
Her mother's expression did not change but her eyes stirred with some unexpressed thought. She said, “I fully expected news by now. I must admit I’m surprised you did not accept.”
“But why?”
“He's a good man, Josette. And he's been very attentive to our family.”
“I've hardly had more than a few moments private conversation with him.”
“You knew him well enough to have a defined opinion.”
“I was wrong,” Josette confessed. “I only ached for George. I never meant to make Carter feel the brunt of it.”
“He admires you, Josette. He would not have
stayed so long at Beddingfield Park or with his aunt if he had not.”
“You don't mean to imply he stayed for me?” Josette got up and went to her mother's window. It faced the rolling hills beyond the family’s acreage. Her mother's opinions astonished her as much as the captain's proposal. What would she think if she knew he kept a bastard in the village?
“You are too modest, but I've never doubted you would make a wise choice when it came your time.”
“You think it was foolish for me to refuse?”
“He's a gentleman. I thought I saw feelings for him in you, but perhaps I was mistaken.”
“Whenever did I show feelings?”
“He certainly stirred some emotion.”
“He is handsome, Mama. But unlike me in so many ways.”
“And what a compliment your tempers would be together.”
“I'm afraid he finds Amy has more spirit.”
Her mother's eyes widened for a moment. “Perhaps you misunderstood. Or perhaps,” she said coming over to the window and putting her arms gently around her daughter, “he is not looking for spirit.”
“I have spirit.”
Her mother laughed softly. “That you do.”
The evening meal celebrated Josette's return, and afterward the family moved into the library. With a small fire waving cheerily from the hearth, Edward, Amy, and Josette put on their melodrama for the household and the visiting Widow Mulgrave, Lady Price's especial friend, who delighted in any sort of entertainment.
Josette recited her lines dutifully and Amy with natural flair.
Even Sir Robert joined in applause and nobody seemed to mind that the Ladies Price were dabbling in theatrics with their cousin.
With a pleased look, Edward took a final bow at Amy's insistence. “One final announcement,” he said as the applause dissipated and the room quieted. Everyone waited with baited breath but Edward's countenance turned rueful. “I'm leaving for London tomorrow.”
A surprised silence was the room's reply until Amy cried out first, “Oh Edward, you mustn't!”
“I must, my dear.”
“For your play?” Lady Price asked.
Edward gave a negative shake of his head. “The Season is upon us, and I have commitments to keep.”
Josette said, “Edward, that's disappointing news.” She would not confess that she was weary of her cousin's boundless energy and craving for achievement.
Tears pooled in Amy's eyes, for once she was shocked into silence.
When Sir Robert gave his congratulations, Edward said, "I'll be in good company. Lady Berclair leaves in a fortnight.”
“With her daughter?” Josette asked.
He cleared his throat. “Of course. One knows Miss Caroline Berclair would not be late for the Season.”
At this declaration, Amy gurgled like a stream as tears overflowed her eyes.
“There now,” Josette said in alarm, giving her handkerchief to her sister and patting her gently.
“But you'll go, too?” asked the Widow Mulgrave.
“Mama must not,” Josette explained. “It’s too soon.”
Her father, put out with drama of every kind, stood and hastily bowed before disappearing to his study.
“There now, kitten,” said Edward, “we'll be together soon. Here.” He generously handed Amy his volume of Shakespeare, which did not satisfy her.
Lady Price frowned. “You're exhausted, Amy. I'll call Hannah to put you to bed.” The women departed in a wave of feminine sympathy leaving Edward alone.
≈ ≈ ≈
Edward did leave the next morning, for once consistent in keeping with his schedule. The walls seemed to sigh after his departure. Indeed, the entire estate seemed to relax as if in need of a long meditative nap.
Josette took her old straw bonnet and walked the park’s eastern boundary, enjoying the scenes of rebirth. The entire world was green. Flowers dotted her little grove and her favorite bench waited to cradle her in its spindly arms. The smell of warm dirt and the perfume of young blossoms permeated her senses. She breathed deeply and sighed. It almost made winter worth bearing.
Captain Carter crept into her thoughts as he persistently did when she let down her guard. He was not a man of many words, but when he did speak it was always with purpose and forethought. Truth be told, he was not unlike her father in that way. Once offended by said nature, she now knew to respect it. It was no wonder George esteemed him so.
Sadness tugged at her heart. She had always loved everything her brother admired. His affection for anything was a contagion to his younger sister. What would he have thought of her refusing his favorite naval officer?
When the sun felt too warm through her Spencer, she roused herself and walked toward the house. Drifting through the vestibule, she saw the door to her father’s study ajar and him at his desk. “Papa?”
He glanced up from his reading and gave her a pleasant look. “I've been waiting for you.”
Her stomach flipped in surprise.
He’d made no mention of Carter’s visit, unlike her mama. Josette had hoped they would all quietly ignore the affair.
She walked slowly across the room and took a seat.
“You may take off your bonnet,” he said in an amused voice.
“Oh,” she stuttered, and then fumbled with the ribbons at her chin.
Sir Robert made a steeple with his fingers and rested his whiskered chin upon it. “Your mother has told me Captain Carter visited you in Bedfield.”
Josette found to breathe was an effort.
“He's a good sort, Captain Carter.”
“He's well enough,” she replied.
Sir Robert smiled. “Your brother thought so. And so do I.”
Josette twisted her bonnet into an irregular shape and studied it closely.
“Any father would be pleased to have such a man’s attentions directed at one of his daughters.”
“You're flattered?” Josette asked, trying to sound amused. She eyed him steadily and concentrated so that she did not to blush.
“He is of good family and excellent reputation.”
“He's second born.”
“I wasn't aware of your ambitions, my dear. And the man has made a fortune in prize money to be sure.”
At this conjecture, Josette did blush. “I'm not Amy, Papa,” she said, a bit ashamed to call her own sister out.
“Of that I am certain. It's not difficult to tell two gels apart. Though if we had more, the task would have been more so.”
“Only if we were of similar looks, and we are not. But I do remember you have called me George in moments of exasperation.”
A genuine laugh emitted from Sir Robert, and his eyes sparkled. “You were easier to confuse with your brother when you were small, truth be told.”
“I'd be flattered, Papa,” Josette said seriously, “to be oft confused with him now. I have no intention of leaving Beddingfield Park. Or you or Mama.”
Her father smiled again. “You have a profound sense of loyalty, but please remember it is not this park that makes you who you are. Don’t be afraid to step outside its palings.”
“Oh, no,” Josette breathed. She flashed on the day of her brother’s departure so many years ago, when he had left to accept his first post as midshipman and left her in command.
“You may be like your mother in many ways, but you have the Price spirit. If you had been born a boy, I’ve no doubt you would have joined your brother at sea.”
“George asked me to stay and watch over Beddingfield Park,” she confessed.
“You did not really want to join the Navy,” her father teased.
“I wanted to see dolphins and wild monkeys and the breadfruit tree.”
“A wild monkey?” her father repeated with distain, though it was evident he tried not to laugh.
“I love this park, Papa. I just dreamed someday I would get to see what lies beyond it. But it was not meant to be, and I accept it. I would have never made Lieutenant
,” she joked with a toss of her chin.
Sir Robert chuckled. “You would have been a prized second son, but you are an irreplaceable first daughter.” His eyes glimmered. “Your brother would have never forgiven me if I bound you here.”
“I suppose that is in Edward's hands now.”
“That is entirely my meaning. You are not in so desperate a position that you must marry by arrangement. Follow your heart.” He motioned toward his study doors, and Josette took it to mean her mother.
“Was Mama your only ambition, Papa?”
“From the first moment I saw her,” he said with a faint smile. “I have reached my aspirations. True, they changed along the way, but I have pursued what has been reasonable and made do where I could not.”
“You are a good sort of man, Papa,” Josette declared. She hopped up from her chair and gave her father a rare hug.
“As is Captain Carter,” he said in a voice muffled through her sleeve.
Josette pitied his discomfort at her affectionate outburst and released him.
“But if you do not fancy the man, then by all means,” Sir Robert motioned toward the bright window, “see to your park while you can until someone changes your mind.”
Josette smiled at him, thanking him with her eyes, for she could not speak.
“Now,” he said after an interlude of silence and with his voice returned to its usual severity, “hurry along, I have my accounts to see to. And close the door on your way out.”
≈ ≈ ≈
Josette had only one week to relish the spring warmth and the settling of Beddingfield Park into its former routine.
The very day after attending services, Amy flew into her room and woke her with a voice shrill enough to dance the glasses from their window panes. “A letter's come!” she cried.
Josette put a pillow over her poor ears.
“From Lady Berclair.”
Josette Page 9
