Josette (10 page)

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.

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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?”

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By morning Edward had redeemed himself with his usual unabashed nature, and Amy had collected her emotions and stored them once 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.”

Everyone chuckled good-naturedly at this except for Mr. Egglestone, who looked undecidedly at a picture on the wall.

“Do you plan to return to London?” asked his wife to Edward.

“Yes, but not straight away. I've written my mother but she has promised to see me in town after Easter.”

“We insisted she come,” Lady Price explained, “but she insisted she could not.”

Josette smiled. “My aunt is on a committee for music for deserving girls who have no means for instruction, a charity too dear to her heart. She has promised to come see us next autumn.”

“And I'm sure to make her keep it,” Edward declared.

This satisfied Mrs. Egglestone for a time and they continued a cheerful prattle as they discussed plans for the oncoming year. Over venison pasty, however, she turned kindly to Amy once more and told her, "I will have my sister's children for a time after Twelfth Night. It would be a great comfort to me if you would come.”

Disappointment flushed Amy's cheeks. She blinked hard, and Josette saw she struggled for an answer. Leaving Beddingfield Park would mean several less weeks of engaging Edward's attentions, and when he returned to London, Josette suspected, he might forget all about his little kitten.

“Amy and Edward are writing a play,” Josette announced, snatching up the conversation. “I don't see how she could bear to stop.”