“Do be gay, Josette. I've waited all year for this, and see, I look even better than I did last year, do I not?” She preened while Josette kept her eyes on her friend’s letter. Finally folding the paper carefully back together, she said, “You are very pretty, Amy. And see your hair is not even done up.”
This placated her enough, and she traipsed off to her room. There were only a few moments of solitude however before Caroline knocked and joined her.
“You haven't tried on your gown.”
Josette glanced toward her dressing room where the open door allowed a vision of packages scattered about. “I had every intention when I finished my missives.”
“You have next week to write your letters,” Caroline said with a toss of her hand. “Mother won't be satisfied until she dissects you in your muslin.”
Josette chuckled, for once sharing an understanding with the girl. “You will never have to fear dissection, Miss Berclair, with your beautiful hair.”
Caroline pursed her lips as if to say something contradictory about red hair but left it unspoken. Instead she replied, “Call me Caroline. And I pity you for having to compete with your younger sister. Why ever did your parents let her come out before you made a match? She will not be satisfied if she does not find a husband before Michaelmas.”
“She may catch one if she chooses. That is not why I came to town.”
“Yes, we know. Some of us come to town for reasons altogether different.” Lazily, Caroline leaned back in the small chair she’d taken and studied a botanical sketch above the mantle.
“Would it be improper to ask why you come?”
“Because it's the Season,” answered Caroline. “What else is there to do?”
“Entertain your mother?” Josette asked with as much innocence as she could muster.
“My mother is perfectly capable of entertaining herself, as am I,” Caroline added coyly. “I'm just one of a small faction that finds I can be entertained without being shackled to a cousin.”
“I have no intention of being shackled to a cousin,” Josette said then she quickly recalled who Caroline's cousin was. “You mean Captain Carter?” And to her unwelcome surprise rose to her feet without thinking.
“Phillip?” Again Caroline fluttered her hand. “He's nothing more than a brother to me, a bit old and droll.” She laughed. “Some people find him handsome. Do you?”
“I thought your mama was to do the dissections.”
“And so she will. I beg your pardon.” Caroline stretched and looked again to the bedchamber. “I thought we were discussing cousins. My home is not entailed, you know.”
Josette caught herself chewing on her lip. “You will marry who you choose?”
“If I bother to at all. And it most certainly would not be Phillip.”
Caroline stared too hard at Josette after this, and Josette could not stop the heat from rising to her cheeks.
“How unfortunate for him and for your mother.”
“Speaking of Mama, she wants to see you in your gown so that she can determine your coiffure.”
“My hair,” stuttered Josette. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes to give herself a moment's peace.
There were no moments of peace besides fitful midnight slumbers for days preceding the first ball. Lady Berclair insisted they do more shopping and allowed a carriage ride through the park, which almost sent Amy into fits of rapture.
They paraded beneath flowering trees with their new bonnets and lightweight pelisses, and nodded on occasion (with Lady Berclair's permission) when gentlemen of a certain caliber made shows of admiration. On these jaunts, Josette grew warm enough to perspire through a new chemise and a late morning call left a tear in a favorite old stocking.
Saturday came at last and demanded she surrender another day. There was at least a long nap and a light meal to settle her nerves. She washed herself and changed into her under things. Silk petticoats went over a favorite frayed corset as she prayed Lady Berclair would not make her account for every layer. A lovely ivory muslin was more flattering than she'd imagined. An intricate design of green curls and cues trimmed the seams around the hem.
Molly managed an un-fussed style for the unruly locks that haloed her head until Josette fancied herself close to handsome, even for a girl with natural colors.
“My,” said Amy when she floated into the room. Her own white gown was almost transparent; the ribbons in her hair the color of the April sky. “Sister, you look becoming, indeed!”
“You say that with a surprise that borders on the cruel,” Josette groused. She turned and admired the back of her neck, lifted her skirts and showed the slippers.
Molly handed her the long kid gloves. “You look divine.”
Josette smiled, tried to give her sister a hug, who cried, “My gown!” and they hurried excitedly down to the drawing room where Caroline waited. After Lady Berclair made her be-feathered entrance, the footmen helped them out to the carriage and off they went to their party with Amy's mouth flapping all of the way.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Grosvenor Square townhouse was aristocratic and opulent in all of its glory. The house was bedecked in the most aromatic of flowers and bejeweled with mirrors and gleaming candlesticks.
For a moment, as Josette curtsied to her hostess, she worried she looked a bit candlestick-like, so tall and straight was she, but as her eyes fluttered around the room, the eyes of strangers interrupted her examinations and they weren't appraising her as if she were made of wax. “Welcome to the marriage mart,” she muttered, taking Amy's arm.
They were shortly pressed into dinner, which could hardly suppress their appetites to dance. When they finally escaped the slow and numerous courses, it was on to the ballroom, where the music was loud above the clatter of a hundred animated voices.
The small ballroom had a balcony running across a wall that allowed one to step out and observe the pavement below as it swept along the terrace. “A quadrille,” Amy whispered, and Josette turned to see her sister's face very white.
“Whatever is the matter?”
Before Amy could reply, a young man in an army uniform appeared before them with Lady Berclair on his arm. With eyes riveted on Amy's golden braids, he stumbled through their introductions.
Their chaperone made peculiar expressions, Josette blushed for the poor boy, and Amy merely stared.
When he finally asked for Amy’s hand for the next dance, Josette had to nudge her sister to remind her to respond. Disconcerted, the officer repeated himself and Amy nodded.
Josette gave her a small push forward until she took the officer’s hand and the pair disappeared toward the fresh set. Someone behind her laughed audibly and Josette turned to see Caroline grinning like an imp.
“She's lost her tongue.”
“That appears to happen when we venture out into society.” Josette sighed and moved next to her companion. “Tell me whom should I avoid and keep away from my little sister?”
Caroline scanned the room and made a subtle motion with her chin. “That one,” she said.
Josette glimpsed an older gentleman dressed in fine duds with an impressive chin. “A dandy,” she declared.
“And him, though he's very rich,” Caroline continued. Above the room leaning over the balcony’s rail, was a true blue rake, a hand to his chin, his study of the occupants below so intense he looked like a starved man in a well-stocked pantry.
Josette wrinkled her nose.
“Oh, la, and that silly thing,” Caroline said in a dismayed voice.
Josette shifted her attention to a window and spied Millerd talking with someone. The taller figure with well-shined boots turned aside, and she caught her breath. Edward! Unsure of which man had earned Caroline’s cut, Josette replied, “I see Millerd
has come.”
Their friend saw them watching and raised a half-empty glass. He motioned excitedly to Edward who spun about with a look of joy.
“Here they come,” Caroline sang without enthus
iasm.
Edward moved across the room as if he were dancing. He caught Josette up and swung her about.
She blushed and pushed his hands from her arms. “Edward, really!”
“We're cousins, Cousin.”
She glared at him, but he only laughed.
“Miss Berclair,” he said, taking a knee.
Caroline smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
“You're speechless,” he teased.
Millerd bowed and gave Josette a searching look. “You look like a Grecian work of art.”
“Only Miss Beclair can compete,” Edward added.
Josette smiled wryly. “You should see my sister.”
“I saw her,” Millerd said. “And remember that she promised me a dance.”
“You were too late. We were surrounded as soon as we arrived.”
“By whom?” he asked, and Josette motioned toward the dancers. He raised his chin and studied the officer. “Ah,” he said, “young Fitzgerald. He's only here a few more days before he joins his regiment.”
“Is he a good young man?” Josette asked.
“From a good family. And the army, you know.”
“Oh, any colors will do for Amy,” Josette laughed.
“Then I should join up,” Edward declared.
“I thought you were committed to the pen.”
“Josette,” said Edward, “commitments change.”
“But not promises.”
Edward looked Caroline over and asked, “What do you say, Miss Berclair?”
“Commitments and promises are one and the same. I find them both ignorantly made and sure to be broken.”
“Just so,” he said in agreement. He pointed rudely through the crowd. “See that fellow? Theophilius Sparrow. He's a member of the Royal Society.”
Josette stood on her toes and saw an old family acquaintance who shared her interest in botany. “Yes, he shares his books with Papa.”
“Books that you read,” Edward scolded.
“He's in with Banks you know. There's talk of another voyage to New South Wales. A scientific voyage.”
“What do you know about science?” asked Caroline, but before Edward could expound on his new interest, Fitzgerald reappeared with Amy on his arm.
He bowed.
Josette smiled and thanked him and he disappeared but not without looking Amy in the eye and giving her a heartfelt compliment.
Amy flushed red and wrapped her fingers around Josette's elbow.
“Are you enjoying the ball?” Josette asked, and Amy gave a jerk of her head in answer.
Her eyes were riveted on Edward's face.
“You look adorable, kitten,” he said, and he reached for her hand.
“You better reserve your dances now, Edward,” Josette warned. “You'll never commit her to a dance at this rate. She is accosted at every turn.”
The orchestra began to peal and two things happened at once: Edward turned to Caroline and the rake from the balcony was at Amy's side.
“A dance, Miss Berclair?” Edward drawled.
Shocked, Josette watched Amy's expression sink as Caroline dipped at the knee and allowed Edward to escort her to the room's center.
The man who had joined them stood looking pointedly at Mr. Millerd.
Their friend feigned surprise then with suspicious eyes finally said, “Captain Wilkins, I thought you had joined the blockade.”
“With so many introductions left undone?”
Amy remained mute, unaware she was being ogled in a lascivious manner that made annoyance streak through Josette like a wild brush fire.
“Miss Price, Miss Amy Price, may I introduce Captain Roger Wilkins.” Josette managed a stiff curtsey but Wilkins barely appraised her. He bowed
deeply and took Amy by the hand in a style too French for her companions’ liking.
“Our dance,” Millerd said suddenly, extending his hand so that Amy could not help but reach out. Without another word, he stalked off, leaving Josette quite alone with Caroline’s rake.
The man smiled, showing a row of straight-edged teeth. He had black oiled hair, dark eyes, and a small mustache.
“You are with the blockade?” asked Josette, somewhat confused.
“Refitting,” he said simply, then, “What a beautiful sister you have, Miss Price.” He smiled the baleful smile again that washed the handsomeness from his face.
He cocked a brow in an Edwardian manner but it looked more insulting than charming.
“I'll be certain to share your regard.”
“As you must share your partners, I see.” His roving eye found Millerd, and his lip curled.
“Mr. Millerd is a family acquaintance. He lives near us in Beddingfield.”
“Then I'm sure he won't mind my requesting your hand for the next dance?”
Josette could think of nothing to say. She gave as little a dip as possible, as if her knees would crack form the displeasure of it.
He stood too close as they watched the pattern and explained he operated a small privateer ship that assisted with the blockade, and at the same time turned a pretty profit.
“I’m certain your sacrifice is felt,” was all she could manage.
She could feel his eyes travel over her as he expounded, and disliked the way the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention. She might have only been a girl, but she'd had a brother who'd quietly educated her about the appetites and habits of such men. Wilkins was flying no quarter, and she did not intend to be a victim.
Before she could faint or turn an ankle to avoid keeping her promise, he led her onto the floor for a country dance with a queer look at Millerd who stared back darkly. They were no sooner hand in hand then she blurted out, “And how are you acquainted with Mr. Millerd, sir?”
“The clubs,” her partner answered easily.
Gamester!thought Josette and she gave him a pretentious smile to let him know she knew him for what he was.
“I believe I've taken some of his inheritance,” said Wilkins, truly insulting now.
“How lucky for you.”
“He is not as fortunate as some of his associates, though perhaps in time their luck may rub off.”
After a few minutes feigning concentration on her steps, Josette remembered Millerd and Captain Carter’s easy camaraderie. “I suppose you are familiar with the Persephone?”
“The ugly old brigantine? Yes. And Captain Carter.” He seemed to cut off before saying more. She queried him with a stare, and he relented with another devilish smirk saying, “Capital gentleman.”
She left him for a moment to pirouette and next he took her hand.
“Price did you say?” he asked almost to himself.
She answered with a terse nod. There was no more talk until they signed off with flourished bows and curtseys.
He took her by the elbow to promenade her about the room.
Already, she saw his gaze was upon Amy but he surprised her when he whispered in her ear, “I knew your brother,” before falling away into the crowd.
≈ ≈ ≈
Millerd, the young Fitzgerald, and several other admirers kept Amy from having to take a seat the entire evening.
This, Josette suspected, was Lady Berclair's doing. She did not take offense that no young men were forced her way, but did wonder if her patroness considered her past the prime. On the whole, Josette was only hopeful Amy’s distractions would keep her mind from following Edward.
Their cousin danced two dances with Rose Sparrow, and then with Caroline again, before he asked Josette.
So frustrated was she with his poor treatment of her little sister, that she could hardly utter more than one word of reply.
He did not seem to notice, his attention elsewhere, and after the last set he seemed in a hurry to depart, so much as that he left without a farewell.
The carriage ride home was silent with the occasional exception of a bout of heavy breathing from Lady Berclair. The woman appeared to have exhausted herself
chaperoning, although Josette wondered at her ideas of the office.
Caroline rubbed her hands as if they ached.
Amy seemed in a sad, exhausted stupor.
“How did we find the first ball of the Season?” Caroline asked in a low voice.
Amy made no reply so Josette said, “Tiresome as they mostly are, but I did enjoy taking a turn with Mr. Fitzgerald. Did you?” she asked Amy cheerily.
Amy made an incoherent noise.
Caroline snorted. “You had everyone's eye in the room, yet you're unhappy. My mother would call you a spoiled girl.”
“Your mother calls her many things,” Josette whispered loudly.
“Why do you pine for such an unsuitable match?” Caroline continued. She stretched her leg across the carriage and gave Amy a kick with her slippered foot.
“Let her be! Edward is our cousin. It's not unsuitable at all. More natural, in fact, than anything else.”
“If you loved him it would be one thing, but to be enslaved to the entailment...”
“Neither one of us is in chains,” Josette said in exasperation.
Amy suddenly burst into tears and covered her face. “Oh, but I do love him. Don’t you see how wonderful he is?”
“Wonderful for whom?” Caroline queried. “The theater? The scientific community? Wasn't it the law last season, or was that before he planned to join the Royal Navy with your brother, who had no reason to lower himself to such a career in the first place?”
Amy continued to cry muffled sobs, and Lady Berclair stirred.
“The sea was George's dream,” Josette answered in a low, hard voice. “He didn't mind that Edward chose another path.”
“Veered off, you mean.”
Contentment in the vehicle was now lost as Amy began to sob loudly.
Josette put her arm around her sister and held her close, feeling wet tears on her neck. “Really, Caroline, have you never been in love?”
“No.”
Lady Berclair jerked upright and looked wildly about as a dislocated feather swiped the air. “What's this?” she cried. “Hands off, rascal!”
≈ ≈ ≈
Love. What was this thing, Love? Josette stood at the gray window and watched the rain fall down, wetting the dust on street below. A poem by Burns came to mind and she murmured to the glass, “Talk not of love, it gives me pain, For love has been my foe…” She had felt it as soon as she had demanded to know if Caroline had ever loved. Her heart, speared by some unseen force, had felt a pain so sharp she’d almost cried out.
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