Josette

by Danielle Thorne

  What a comfortable old shoe, Josette thought pleasantly to herself.

  After a flurry of tortuous introductions, Millerd accompanied them to dine and afterward joined them in the ballroom. He was quick to think after Amy’s well-being, and escorted her to the middle of the first set leaving to her bemusement, Josette without a partner.

  Ducking behind her fan, she faded back up against the wall, hoping to go unnoticed by the sharp-eyed matchmakers, and in so doing was shocked when Edward appeared as if by magic at her side.

  “Cousin,” he said, and he gave her a bow.

  All astonishment, Josette stuttered, “Edward! What are you doing here?”

  He grinned and leant close to her ear. “I won a ticket you know. In a game.”

  “Impossible!’

  He nodded easily and turned his head to observe the couples dancing.

  Josette studied him.

  He had a handsome profile, but there was a heavy look to his eyes.

  “However did you get in?

  Offended, he made a silly face. “What do you take me for, Miss Price? I am not a second son or very poor, and I am to inherit that lovely estate in Beddingfield.”

  “Are you very drunk?” she asked him, and he laughed.

  “No, I am not. I’ve only come to dance, and those old peahens are too hypocritical to confess they’ve admired my work on the stage.”

  “It’s a wonder they don’t throw you out at once.”

  “Look there, my little kitten is dancing with Millerd,” Edward said, ignoring Josette’s concerns. “He told me he would be here tonight.”

  “Yes, he's a man of his word.”

  “There is a good match.”

  “Millerd? He's an agreeable fellow, though I don't believe Amy’s ever considered him in any other way.”

  “A bit serious,” Edward agreed, changing his mind. “Shall we match-make tonight?” he added with a teasing grin.

  “I've come to watch my sister is all. Besides,” Josette motioned toward the chaperones clucking and cackling, “there are plenty of matchmakers in this place.”

  “Not everyone comes for a dowry. Some of us are just in want of merriment.”

  “Merriment for a gentleman? Here? You need no assistance finding diversion, Edward. It comes by you naturally.”

  Edward made a face at this. “I didn't find an interested party for my play as I hoped. Did you hear?”

  Josette shook her head.

  “I am tired of lines, lines, and more lines. I enjoy the performances,” he sighed, “but the work to bring them forth is torturous.”

  “Perhaps you should consider a different pastime,” Josette said wryly.

  “As I have. Banks is to lecture at Somerset House, and I've almost certainly found a way in.”

  “With Mr. Sparrow,” she guessed.

  “How did you know?”

  Josette smiled. “Ask me something about you I cannot guess.”

  Edward mulled over her challenge. “Let me fetch you some lemonade,” he said instead.

  “I'm not thirsty.”

  It was not possible to stop Amy from seeing him, she realized, as Millerd returned her to Josette’s side.

  Amy darted a surprised look at Josette then bit her lip.

  “Edward's here,” Josette said to Millerd.

  “So he is,” he said, failing to hide his wonder. “I never doubted he'd find a way.”

  The two gentlemen exchanged glances, and Edward reached for Josette's hand. “I shouldn't miss an opportunity to dance with my fair cousin.”

  It was the two girls who exchanged looks this time, as Josette was led away. She sighed inwardly and wondered that it would have been better if Edward had never come to pay his respects. What a disruption of their lives it had been since gentlemen starting calling at Beddingfield Park.

  “I have not seen Caroline,” Edward declared, almost as soon as he could speak privately.

  They moved around the other couples and when they met again Josette said, “She is here with her mother of course.”

  Edward's eyes seemed to drift toward the crowd for a turn or two then he asked, “Has she said very much regarding my acquaintance?”

  Josette nearly stumbled so great was her surprise at his candor, and yet she should have been used to it. “Caroline has very little to say about anyone unless she can make fun of them.”

  “But there's little to mock in me,” her cousin said with an alarming seriousness.

  “She did receive your letter. But as to her thoughts she has not taken me into her confidence.”

  Edward pressed him lips and would not expound on the contents.

  Josette added, “Amy has been blue. You did not ask her dance last time we met.” She gave him a meaningful stare.

  “Did I not?”

  “No,” Josette said firmly, and then with reckless abandon blurted, “Oh Edward, are you so blind?”

  He merely glanced from the corner of his eye as if he saw a speck there.

  “She fervently adores you. Talks of no one else and can find nothing admirable in any other man. Surely you must have noticed.”

  Edward gave Josette's hand a small squeeze. “She'll recover soon enough.”

  “Then you have no feelings for her? No intentions?”

  Edward visibly blanched at the word intentions then quickly shook his head. “I suppose I only fancied I was attached to your sister. Perhaps it was cowardice to look one direction when the other threatened me so.”

  “I threatened you?” asked Josette with offense.

  “I know everyone expects us to marry, or at least for me to make you an offer.”

  “And you found that frightful?”

  “You know I am fond of you, but you are not that wild playful cousin anymore.” He gave her a winsome smile that she could see right through.

  His opinion of her deportment was of no consequence to her. Trying to control her fury, Josette murmured in a low angry voice so none else would hear, “You kissed her!”

  When he was close enough, he whispered in her ear: “I kissed you, too.”

  “Well you can't marry us both.”

  “I have no intention of marrying this Season. Or the next.”

  “A fine time to share that information,” Josette replied through grit teeth. She had never been so angry at him. Her stomach curled in revulsion.

  Seeing her distress, Edward confessed as if to detach himself from all other responsibility, “As much as I dearly love the both of you, like dear sisters, I do not see myself settling with either of you at all.”

  A heat wave rolled from Josette's blazing face down her neck to her very toes, so hot, that she thought she felt perspiration on the arches of her feet. “Then you had no business leading us to believe otherwise.”

  The music came to its final chord, the dancers gave their regards but Josette and Edward stood face to face locked in an unspoken exchange. Denying him any respect, she turned as the other ladies curtseyed and ran headlong into Caroline who snatched her hand and led her back to her private column and the plant.

  “Whatever is Edward doing here? Did you tell him we were coming?”

  “No.” Josette searched Caroline's face. “I beg you’ll forgive my impertinence, Caroline, but you must tell me, was there something I should know about that letter?”

  “Edward's letter?” Caroline asked, but of course she knew. She sighed and then leaned close to whisper while pretending to watch the next set, “It was a blathering, ridiculous piece of nonsense, and I have no intention of reply.”

  “He fancies himself in love with you?”

  “Violently in love.”

  Josette wondered that she did not see it before. “And he is as violently in love with you as Amy is with him. What a curious mess. I'd no idea.”

  “You? So organized and knowing all of our characters so intimately?”

  Josette winced. She thought of her letter to Captain Carter. What if he felt the same way as his cou
sin when it came to violent expressions of love? “I'm not sure I have very good instincts when it comes to what someone is actually feeling.”

  “Allow me to share with you what I am feeling,” Caroline said out the side of her mouth. She smirked at someone across the room, then cracked open her fan to cover their conversation. “Your cousin is a dandy and would do you more harm than good as a husband, and your sister is too young to know her own mind.”

  “She is easily flattered,” Josette admitted. She thought of the young officer at their last private ball and then of Captain Wilkins. “It was fortunate your mysterious Wilkins did not have the opportunity to claim a dance with her.”

  “Though he did with you. And did you find him a rake after all?”

  “I’m not quite certain.”

  “Your cousin is more of a rake than Wilkins.”

  “Captain Wilkins,” Josette said in disbelief, “harmless?” She could not believe such a thing.

  “He knew your brother, you must know.”

  “He mentioned it.”

  “And he is acquainted with my cousin.”

  “He knows Captain Carter?”

  “Through naval affairs, I presume. It was he who brought Phillip word of…” Caroline suddenly stopped and eyed Josette pointedly.

  “Word of what?”

  “Your brother's...”

  “My brother's what?”

  Caroline’s fan snapped up to cover her lips. “His child.”

  For a long moment, Josette felt as if her mind was falling. Fragments of conversations, discarded thoughts, and the instinctive reaction she had first had in Bedfield fell completely into place: The little boy at the Lovejoy’s cottage. She took in a sharp breath and immediately felt light-headed.

  “Illegitimate,” Caroline whispered, as if disgusted Josette would make her say it.

  “Little Georgie,” Josette said aloud. She looked around the room without really seeing anything. “And Captain Wilkins made it known afterward.”

  “So things could be managed properly.”

  Josette felt ill and knew her countenance must have shown her distress.

  “You of all people, you didn't know?”

  “I must thank him,” Josette whispered numbly.

  “No need! He will try to extract gratitude out of you in ways that would be scandalous.”

  Josette shifted her eyes to question Caroline with a look.

  “Why do you think I am disinclined to marry? They are either dandies or cads, the lot of them.” Caroline jerked her chin up, and her cheeks were high in color.

  “Yet you say he is harmless?”

  “That one is for the most part. No. No one shall ever get the best of me again, and I don't care at all what people say. I have my inheritance.”

  Somewhat shocked, Josette wondered again at Lady Berclair's actual success in protecting her daughter, then remembering Caroline's lament and that George did not seem to have been everything he ought to have, she said, "They are not all libertines. There are fine gentlemen in the world. Good men, like my father and even Carter.”

  “The good ones are already taken,” Caroline insisted.

  “I'm happy for you, that you have a home you won't be turned out of because you weren’t born a male, but I do think one day someone will catch your fancy.” Josette was all earnestness, and it seemed to discomfit her companion. “Someone who will understand and accept you as you…are.”

  “Just because you've finally noticed my cousin, Josette Price, does not mean the same will happen to me.”

  At this direct hit, Josette turned scarlet but could not deny it. Here they left their private discourse and moved over to Amy and her admirers.

  She seemed flattered by all of the attention, but more than once as Josette struggled to control her composure over Caroline’s revelation and the fact that her feelings for Carter had been detected, she saw Amy search the crowded room.

  Edward did not ask his little kitten to dance.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Josette worried that Amy would run back to her bed and never come out again, but the next morning she joined the rest of the ladies in the breakfast parlor, though she said not a word to her sister and answered her hostess in a flat timbre.

  There were plans for two morning calls, a ride through Hyde Park and a stop at the jewelers so that Lady Berclair could have a clasp repaired on one of her many strings of pearls.

  Amy retired to the drawing room with a basket of work until it was time to change into her walking dress.

  Josette followed. “Would you mind if I practiced my music?” she asked, and her sister shook her head. “You’re very agreeable.”

  Amy did not respond, and Josette wondered if it would be best to keep her conversation with Edward private. Poor Amy seemed as if someone had stuck her with a pin and siphoned all of her vitality out of her toes. She moved slowly, spoke softly, and stared off into nothingness.

  After only a half hour’s time at the pianoforte, a flurry of activity at the front of the door meant the carriage had come. Josette hurried from the room leaving her music sheets scattered about.

  Lady Berclair would be furious she had lost herself in her playing.

  The piece was now familiar enough that her hands found their own way while her mind went on to other things. Like playing at Ashford Hall while Amy sang. And Captain Carter watched.

  She burst into the hall to dart up the stairs for her apartment, but stopped so suddenly that she almost took a spill.

  Below on the ground floor, Lady Berclair’s butler was helping Captain Carter with his hat. A loud bump rattled the doorframe as his trunk was brought in. He did not reprimand the footman for dropping his things, for his eyes were glued on Josette, but not with surprise. No, for certain he had known that she was there. As always, he was in uniform, his stockings pristine.

  Josette caught herself eyeing his calves waiting for something, anything to come out of his mouth. Her chest was pulsing with a treacherously pounding heart. What a state!

  “Phillip!” squawked Lady Berclair, rattling down the marble stairs in her heavy layers. “You've come at last. Have your things sent to your room. You're just in time for a ride to the park.”

  Captain Carter’s upward glance went from his aunt to Josette.

  “Miss Price,” cried the woman, “you still in half-dress! I can't take you into the park in such a state. Hurry, gel! We don't have all morning.” The woman pounded her cane on the marble floor, though with a queer smile on her face.

  Josette felt herself blush from the roots of her hair to her toenails and smarted because of it. It would not do to let the Captain see her discomfited. He had not said hello, and she had acted like Amy, all a-blush and tongue-tied. She nodded and fled past Lady Berclair up the stairs.

  The letter shot to the forefront of her mind, and her knees almost went out from under her. Oh la! The letter! Why had she sent it at all? It was no wonder he had not spoken. What was there to say after such a passionate confession? And did he find it passionate? Spirited?

  She found herself twirling this way and that in front of the looking glass while Molly squeezed her hands together. “You look lovely,” the maid assured her for the second time.

  Josette studied the smart gown. It was white but of a durable fabric, the sleeves long but puffed on the shoulders. Not that it would show, she decided as she picked up a puce Spencer and matching bonnet. Her parasol was not new, but the sky blue looked pretty with her other things. None of it would match her bothersome brown eyes.

  She breathed deeply, pushed a curl out of her face and departed. At least she would not be alone. Lady Berclair would keep up the chatter on the carriage ride and perhaps Amy would come out of her stupor.

  She was the last to be helped into the carriage. It was only the three young women and their chaperone. Josette looked warily about but did not see the captain or a mount.

  As if knowing her mind Caroline said, “My cousin is not accompanyi
ng us to the park. He has business to see to.”

  “Oh,” said Josette, trying to appear surprised. “He is here.”

  “He said he met you on the landing when he arrived.”

  Lady Berclair tipped her nose up and looked down it at Josette. “Your mind is soft. Mind your parasol, Miss Price.”

  Josette glanced at Amy who stared out into the street lost in her thoughts. “Did you see Captain Carter?”

  “He helped me out.”

  “Are you very happy to see him again?”

  “Yes.” Amy shifted in her seat.

  “And he was pleased to remember you I imagine.”

  “Yes, so he was,” Amy said with sharpness.

  Josette raised her brows and made a face at Caroline across the way. “I'm sorry he couldn't accompany us,” she said generously. All the while her nerves screamed for mercy.

  As if hearing them, Caroline replied, “I’m sure you that are.”

  At this, Lady Berclair began howling about gentlemen and their clubs and war. She only ceased when they made their calls, then continued again until reaching the park. They were so happy to escape her lamentations they nearly scrambled over one another to get out of the carriage.

  It was no surprise to find Millerd there with two mates from his time at Oxford. He introduced them, and Josette watched them rove their eyes over her sister. The examination made her feel sour, and she found she could not be charming. After a long walk admiring the flowers and pretty waters, they went their way at last, returning in time to rest before dinner.

  Josette hurried to her room as soon as they arrived. She had never felt so ill at ease. It had taken all of her reserve not to run up the stairs, not to look into the drawing room or toward the library. Perhaps he was hiding, too. Why had he come if he knew that she was there?

  Her hopes for a distracting word from home were dashed as soon as she saw the empty desk beside the window. There was no letter waiting for her, and it was where Molly always left missives when she was away. With no news from home to take her mind off her quandary, she paced the floor until dinner. Her stomach churned, and her palms perspired unpleasantly.

  Blast it all, she swore to herself, she had never been so distraught over a simple man. She looked heavenward to George. “I hear you. Laughing. Whatever has become of Lieutenant Josette? She has lost Beddingfield Park and now her nerve.”