Josette

by Danielle Thorne

  Josette’s throat pinched up, and she swallowed the painful lump down. She knew love; the love of a parent, the love of a brother, a little sister, even the occasional love of a devoted friend. She'd loved horses and dogs and kittens, and more than any other thing in her life, she loved Beddingfield Park. But this new love, this love had feeling. Passion. Purpose.

  George had loved Captain Carter. Her family loved him, too. And now, she realized with a growing assurance, she had fallen for him as well. Perhaps it was only ardent admiration at this point, but it was something she had never known before, and she wanted more of it. How could she have refused him? It had been presumptuous of her to assume the child was his, even to suspect its circumstances. First she had accused him of her brother's death, then an immoral indiscretion.

  She suddenly wished she were window shopping again, browsing the displays in the windows up and down Oxford Street. She wanted to see the gay colors and exotic wares from all over the very broad and confusing world. Why did bonnets make Amy happy, when a wade in the creek make her feel euphoric? “People do not love the same way,” she mused aloud. But was it love that Amy felt for Edward? She only loved her new trifles until she wore them once, and Edward, Josette realized with irritation, was the same way.

  The rain dribbled on in a continuous stream, and Josette decided there was a need for music. She gathered some new sheets purchased on one of their outings and fled the maddening weather for the drawing room where, because there was no music room, the Berclair’s kept their instruments.

  On the second floor landing, Josette noted Amy’s door latched shut. Determined to rouse her sister for a small concerto, she knocked lightly.

  Amy was half dressed with a thin blanket and her curtains drawn.

  “You have not touched your breakfast tray.”

  The tired, pale face did not answer, but turned to face the violet and green papered wall.

  “There is no need for despair.” Josette sat on the edge of the bed the way their mother would and rubbed Amy's shoulder.

  “I ruined it entirely,” said Amy.

  “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I feel like a half-wit with no mind to own.”

  “Look at me. I have always prided myself on truth and plain speaking but in matters of the heart, I have failed miserably. How else could I be almost twenty and one, and still single?”

  “I would that I was more like you, brave, smart Josette,” cried Amy. “You listen to your head first, instead of dashing off with your heart in the lead.”

  “But that is my lament. I do not let my heart have any opinion.”

  “Should it ever have one, I pray that it doesn't trick you as mine has me.”

  Josette smiled though she felt like crying. “Your heart has not wronged you, Edward has. And we both know that now.”

  “I was sure he loved me. He all but told me so.”

  “What did he say?” asked Josette with some alarm.

  “Not that he loved me exactly, but...” Amy stopped and her cheeks turned bright red as if the very subject of their discourse had walked into the room. The silence rang of guilt.

  “What did Edward do?” Josette repeated with a sinking heart.

  “He kissed me in the drawing room. Before he kissed you,” she added quickly.

  Josette’s jaw dropped. “He kissed you? The cad!”

  Amy nodded and began to drip tears again. She reached for a fresh handkerchief on the bedside table.

  “Lie back,” Josette insisted and went about tucking her in. She did not bother to reign in her temper.

  “Don't mourn for a fool, Amy. He's not worth a groat. If we told Papa, he'd make him marry you, but that would be scandalous, and Edward would be bitter toward you. He had no right to take advantage of you. He’s a rake through and through!”

  She struggled for something more to soften her sister's pain. “He could have had a Price girl and Beddingfield Park. Instead he chooses to keep company with those who wear dresses and wigs and face paint.” She poked her sister to try to make her giggle, but Amy only continued to look miserable, her large blue eyes bleak.

  “He said he fancied a country gentleman's life, like Papa has.”

  “Edward fancies anyone who has something he does not,” Josette said. “He is destined to be the gentleman over our park no matter what pursuit he chooses. At least now you know love. You have had your heart broken and can wait for your white knight to appear when you least expect it.”

  “It wasn't supposed to be this way,” said Amy. Her sadness was palpable. “Oh, Josette, all I ever wanted to be was married. If ever you fall in love, don't let it get away.”

  “We don't get to choose if love will be returned. Surely you see that now?”

  “But if ever you do.”

  Josette nodded. “I suppose Beddingfield Park would not kiss me in the library.”

  “You can find another Beddingfield Park.”

  Josette pulled the blankets up to Amy's chin. “And you will find another Edward, a better one.”

  There seemed more important things to do than music when Josette left the room. She retired to her quarters and pulled the ink bottle from out of her writing desk drawer. In her last letter, Mrs. Egglestone had questioned by way of a very subtle hint as to whether or not Josette had seen Captain Carter again. She meant to ask, Josette suspected, whether or not she had gathered the courage to say the things she’d left unsaid.

  They were not engaged, and it would not do to be sending him private missives, but under the circumstances Josette felt she had no choice. Perhaps she was no better than Edward for daring to be so forward, but to say nothing meant to feel unhappy and dissatisfied forever. She’d already been kissed by a libertine, how much worse could writing a letter to someone she so desperately admired make her?

  If he still had any feelings for her, surely he would not find a letter from her unwelcome. But if not, it would be better to express her feelings and learn she had been put out of his heart.

  Knowing that she could not put it off any longer, she smoothed out a sheet of paper. For some time the quill hovered in the air. Carter had a home somewhere about Ipswich, a nice situation with a garden and a small lake. He liked to spend his evenings by the fire with a book; he'd told her so.

  Josette closed her eyes and pictured another Beddingfield Park where the grass smelled like warm honey on late afternoons. She imagined a journey overseas with she as the captain’s wife and companion. Oh, bother, to be sure. Everything she had thought she'd wanted had changed.

  Dear Sir,

  I pray that these lines reach you in good health and aboard a happy ship. How the blockade must drag out for those carrying out the solemn duty. You have my best wishes for a successful tour and a safe return.

  It is my unfortunate and unhappy obligation to post a repentant letter, humbly filled with sincere apologies for my offensive presumptions of which I accused you of when we last met in Bedfield. My conclusions were too fast and too forward, and did you a great disservice. Not a moment since your departure have I not sorrowed for the shame of my allegations.

  Here Josette paused as her eyes raced over her stiff penmanship. Her heart was beating steadily enough that her hands trembled. Where did one find the courage to confess an attachment? La! She'd rather have a cannon aimed at her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment and found a picture in her mind of his dark eyes gazing intently across the room.

  So great was my surprise at the direction of our last conversation that I scarcely had time to collect myself. My pragmatic and hurried nature won out and I failed, my good Sir, to return the compliment that I was so honored to have paid to me.

  This is a painful admission that I must share, one that I hope will not earn your contempt. Your admission flattered me beyond words, and so great was my unease that I reached for excuses to defend my astonishment. I can find no joy in the festivities this Season, or any happiness in my particular habits. You must know that I a
m in respect and awe of your good character. I've come to suppose I now comprehend your nature and disposition and am far more pleased by it than I had the courage to own.

  Josette's cheeks began to burn, and the writing instrument moved even faster as if influenced by the fever of her unchecked emotions, emotions that tumbled forth like a foaming river trying to find the sea.

  And I do desire your attentions and approval. There are few things in this world I would not sacrifice to recant my answer to your application. I was wounded by my grief and blind to my true feelings. A future with such a gentleman as you, Captain Carter, would with certainty bring me pleasure and satisfaction. My heart does not doubt it.

  Josette's hand came to a stop. There was no moment of release as she’d expected. The inkwell had been jostled to the edge of the desk, and she moved it back to safety. Her stomach churned with the horror of her unchecked words. She considered for a moment her undeserving character but could not force her heart to record another line.

  Quickly jotting down her name, she blew the paper dry ignoring the untidy runs and splotches. The letter was folded and sealed and entrusted to a footman before the bell rang for dinner. It was all she could do, and it was done. She had been true to herself and no matter the outcome she had made her best effort to patch up the mistake.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Another day passed with Amy secluded in her room.

  The rain had disappeared. Sunlight the color of narcissus returned and brought much needed cheer to Josette's apartment. She took her breakfast with Lady Berclair and Caroline, and kept up her end of polite conversation, but a steady thrum of expectation seemed to reverberate throughout her entire being.

  The letter had been posted just days before and despite knowing this, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering to Captain Carter. She imagined him holding the letter in his tapered fingers and scanning it with stunned green eyes. At least, she hoped, he would read her confession with surprise. To imagine him staring with his expressionless face made her ill.

  Every manner of business that made the front bell ring jolted the household. But neither Edward nor Captain Carter came.

  Only Millerd presented himself the day after next. He took an uneasy turn around the space although it was only Josette and Caroline who welcomed him into the drawing room. “I'm sorry to have missed your mother,” he said to Caroline.

  She smirked her disbelief.

  His hands moved in and out of his pockets.

  “And I'm sorry Amy is ill,” Josette repeated.

  “I did hope that I would find her recovered.”

  Caroline lied for them all, "She exhausted herself at her first ball."

  “Perhaps she is too delicate for the long evenings out.”

  “Amy's health is in no danger,” Josette said. “A few days of rest will set her up. We're going to take a carriage ride late this morning and perhaps tomorrow go to the Bazaar.”

  Caroline made a face, more Josette assumed for the smell of the place, than her companions.

  “I'd be happy to accompany you,” Millerd said, and the spark of eagerness in his eye could not be missed.

  For an uneasy moment it occurred to Josette that Millerd had befriended them far more than in the common way. He always seemed to find their company and never had a cross word, only compliments. Bother, had she led the man on in some way?

  In the awkward silence, he suddenly and without ceremony pulled a letter from his waistcoat and passed it to Caroline. “I almost forgot,” he declared, and not without some strain at his attempt to be cavalier. “Edward asked me to deliver this and his apologies that he could not get away.”

  “From the theater?” Caroline asked, not missing one beat of the conversation. She accepted the note, laid it beside her on a table, and continued lounging on the settee with her unruffled air.

  “From a meeting. He was writing.”

  Josette could only scramble for some turn to make in the conversation. Her heart did not know whether to feel surprised or betrayed. Her mind calmed the tumult of emotion to consider later.

  Millerd interrupted her struggle. “I entirely forgot to mention, that I received word from Captain Carter.”

  Josette quickly tried to adapt an expression that showed she did not care. Caroline said, “Phillip? Is he going to be able to get away at all?”

  “He writes that he will be returning on a matter of business for the Admiralty. It should take at the very least two to three weeks, maybe more, for you know how slow the wheels can turn at Whitehall.”

  “He’s taken another prize,” Caroline mused.

  All the while Josette's heart pounded in time with her thoughts. That Captain Carter would come for the Season now, after she had written him such an intimate letter. “Good Lord,” she cried forgetting herself, “where will he stay?”

  Caroline turned her head. “Why with us, you goose.”

  Millerd nodded happily as Josette felt herself pale.

  “Lady Berclair should receive word any day now. I only thought to prepare you for the happy news.”

  “Yes, Millerd,” said Caroline, “you love to deliver us news.”

  Millerd faltered, unsure if he had received compliment or injury.

  Josette stood. “I'm so glad you called, and I’ll be sure to let Amy know.” She offered him her hand, and he bowed over it.

  Caroline could be so cruel when she was bored, Josette mused as the poor

  man hurried out. She heard the lady pass behind her on the landing to go up the stairs.

  “Caroline,” Josette said in a voice as shaming as Lady Berclair's, "why must you tease poor Millerd?”

  The girl snuffled a laugh as she floated up. “What else is there to do but laugh?” She stopped and gave Josette an inquisitive stare. “Why is it you are determined to protect everyone but Phillip? I've never heard you come to his defense, and you act as if you’d rather us leave him to sleep in the street.”

  Josette swallowed and willed herself not to flush. She could think of nothing to reply.

  Caroline gave her a devilish grin and went up to her rooms without another thrust.

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  With Lady Berclair's somewhat reluctant condescension, Millerd was allowed to join them on their outing.

  There were exotic creatures and birds to distract Amy for a time, and she even accepted an orange that Millerd bought for each of them, but in-between his chattering queries, she fell silent and stared off at nothing at all.

  Josette only saw her show any interest when he mentioned the Wednesday ball at Almack’s. “And I understand you will be coming as well?” he said, more to Lady Berclair than anyone else.

  Caroline pursed her lips.

  Josette could only be surprised.

  “Yes,” Lady Beclair said. “I meant to astonish and please my wards, but you've ruined it.” While Millerd colored, she turned to Amy and patted her hard on the knee. “I told you I would get you in to the most important parties of the Season. The Countess has prevailed and allowed us two strangers’ tickets, as I knew she would.” She turned to Josette and nodded her head as if she'd thanked her. “You’d do well to make these rounds with your sister, though you already have before.”

  “As has Caroline,” Josette said in defense, for Caroline was almost as old as Josette, and without doubt had more experience presenting her self to the available lords and dukes wanting rich, young, and pretty wives. She was surprised the patronesses at Almack’s had any patience for Caroline at all.

  “Yes, but I don’t intend to settle anytime soon,” Caroline bit back, leaving “if at all” unspoken.

  “If there is not to be a union for Beddingfield Park,” said Lady Beclair, “you are lucky to have me to help you find a suitable situation.”

  Josette cringed at her words for Amy's sake, but her sister listened merely as if they were deciding on where she would be buried.

  “I am in no hurry to settle myself,” Josette said, her irritation e
vident though it did not settle the lady. “My parents are in perfect health.”

  “As was your brother,” Lady Berclair declared, and Josette had to clench her fists to keep from screaming. For one who claimed interest in settling the affairs of the park, Lady Berclair did not seem to be especially concerned with bringing either one of them to Edward.

  Somewhat distressed at the ladies’ conversation, Millerd suddenly asked Amy, “You will come?” and she refocused on his hopeful eyes. “You mustn't stay the whole night or fatigue yourself, but the refreshments are light and the music and company without compare. Upon my word you will have a lovely time of it.”

  Amy glanced at her sister then managed to smile and nod. She was trying ever so hard to be polite and tolerate the gentleman’s kindness.

  Josette felt a surge of satisfaction at her sister's manners. “Indeed,” she said at once. “We will all come and make it the most merry assembly of the Season.”

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  Upon their arrival to the St. James ballroom, the three young ladies under the protection of Lady Berclair were thought to be a lovely and diverse bouquet of womanhood. Red, yellow, and mahogany hair coiffed up becomingly off of their necks.

  Dressed in the finest of white gowns, Josette endured the examination of the room for only a few moments before she guiding Amy over to a private column and potted fern.

  The building, though simple in its outer architecture, satisfied its reported reputation and Josette having graced its ballroom before, gave the dazzling quarters only a precursory investigation before settling beside Amy to point out those persons of interest that she might know of, for Amy had not been flattered with admission in her first Season.

  It took no time at all for Millerd to find them.