Read Josette Online

Authors: Danielle Thorne

Tags: #Romance, #Regency, #General, #Historical, #Fiction

Josette (7 page)

“But of course it wouldn't. We'll give you a day of rest, with no silly young people to bother your nerves.”

“My nerves are very well, thank you,” her mother said.

Amy tore away from her partner and flounced back to the settee gasping for breath. “What shall I wear, Mama?”

“Your lavender will do.
Or the dark taffeta.”

“That old gray thing?
Let Josette wear her gray gown.

Lavender suited the both of them to some degree. Gray did not.

“I’m not to play am I?” asked Josette, displaying her frown outwardly now. “I’m a terrible performer.”

Edward rushed to her defense. “You’re uncommonly sufficient.”


Maryett
Austen and the Sparrow girls are masters of the pianoforte. Not myself.”

“You shall sing with Amy!” Edward jumped from his seat and did a happy jig that made his aunt stare. “And I shall do a monologue from
Hamlet
.” He grabbed the edges of his waistcoat and began a recitation in his deep voice.

Josette laughed.
“Oh, Edward!”
He could be so silly but his cheerfulness was infectious. She doubted the great Lady Berclair would allow any acting at her concert. She glanced at her mother and pursed her lips. “I believe Amy has run for her wardrobe.”

“You should wear the gray silk you’ve been saving.”

“It’s so bright,” Josette argued feebly.

“Nonsense.
It’s cheerful, and it flatters you.”

Josette sighed.
The color of smoke and dull weather.
Of course it did. She left the happy folk in the drawing room and tiptoed to the study. Peeking through the cracked doors, she saw her father sitting idly at his desk.

“Come,” he croaked at her soft knock.

She took a seat across from him and smiled. “You’re feeling better.”

“I’m a hearty old dog.”

Josette chuckled.
 
“But not a sea dog.”

“No,” he smiled.

“Lady Berclair has sent us an invitation to play.”

“Play?”

“Music.
Mama, of course, has declined.”

Sir Robert motioned with his heavy cheeks toward the correspondence heaped on his desk. “Perhaps I shall get some of my letters finished.”

“Are we that much of a disturbance?”

“No, you are not.” His eyes took on the lost look he sometimes carried. “I never thought I'd miss the thundering stampede of so many feet.”

Josette chuckled. “And frogs and screams?”

Her father smiled, and the frost melted away in his eyes. “You were never
afeared
of Edward's tokens.”

Josette shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “No, and I am still not. Shall I write Lady Berclair and accept?”

“I'm sure your mother will be happy to. She needs the distraction.” Sir Robert glanced out the window at the unusually tepid weather. “I do not.
Boshannon
is wild to get out,” he remarked about his dog.

“I don't think I could tolerate another bite of pheasant,” murmured Josette. The park beyond the drapery had caught her eye as well.

“Perhaps Lady Berclair will have something more to your liking,” her father reproached.

“I did not mean it,” Josette clumsily replied. “I'm not sure that I'm anxious to reacquaint myself with her ladyship.”

“She's tolerable, and a visit out will do you good.”

“I'm sure it will do Amy good.”

“It will,” agreed her father with a sadness that said how much he missed his son.

“Well I shall not be going anywhere, Papa, not to sea and not after beaus.”

Sir Robert studied Josette with an amused look. “You will make your own way. I've no doubt of it.”

“George always said that I would never do for marriage because of my temper, and never do for sea because of my--” Josette laughed quietly, “my temper!”

“You have a fine temperament.
Always righteous.”

“You flatter me, Papa.”

“I always know when my Jo's in a fit that something's not right.”

Josette flushed at her father's term of endearment, which he had never in her memory used. “I’m sure George would have something to say about that, too,” she mumbled.

“Yes, indeed.” her father stretched and leaned over an open drawer. “According to Captain Carter, your brother had much good to say about you to everyone he met. The man was as well informed of my family as myself.”

“Or so he presumed himself to be.”

“He's a good sort of man.
A capable leader.
George would have never rallied for a man any less courageous.”

“I just don't understand,” said Josette, “why he felt it his duty to bring us the news.”

“It was an easier blow,” her father insisted. “And word had not yet arrived. Besides, he has family in this part of the country.
Lady Berclair, in fact.”

“Yes, I know. It was very capable of him to kill two birds with one stone.”

“You're unusually harsh on him, my dear.”

Josette gave her father a wry look in defense. “You did say I had a righteous temper.”

“When it's not misdirected.”

Her vicious slap of Amy still in her mind, Josette could not dispute him. “I'll go tell Mama you approve.”

Her father nodded. “And shut my door behind you.”

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

The carriage ride to Ashford Hall was a distance, and Amy and Edward relished every moment of it. Josette was not inclined to be jostled about. Not that it made her ill, but she would have preferred to walk her legs off than listen to the loud, unbounded prattle of her two companions. She stared out the window with subdued impatience until the
Berclair's
estate came into view.

The property was flat with few trees. The house itself towered like a hulking gargoyle. A gray monstrosity, it featured soaring columns and an enormous terrace with stairs at either end. A footman helped her out, and she tried to stretch unnoticed as she crept up the steps. A small crowd of guests moved in a line through two great doors into the marbled hall.
 

“Captain Carter,” stuttered Josette when she saw him. She could not believe her eyes.

He gave a bow.

A girl beside him made a curtsy.

Carter did not miss a beat.

“Welcome to Ashford Hall, Miss Price. I am sure my aunt will be happy to see you have come.”

So great was her surprise, Josette could only stare. To think that Carter had sallied to London and back again amazed her. What could be so enticing as to draw him back to the country?

“My cousin, Miss Caroline Berclair,” he said with a quick motion toward the striking redhead.

The girl, about Josette's own age, held out a hand. Her creamy complexion glowed in the flicker of candlelight.

“Josette Price, I've heard nothing but accolades.”

“Indeed?” Josette answered, with a pensive look back at Carter.

Carter greeted Amy with less of his usual reserve. He was almost captivating in his uniform. Foregoing any wig or powder, his longish hair shined like an onyx gemstone, not unlike the copper braids on his cousin’s head.

The crowd of bodies swept Josette into an ornate green saloon, and she realized with consternation that she had lost Edward's arm. She looked about the room lined with chairs, and saw a piano and an impressive harp that Caroline would likely be plucking. A modest fire crackled from within an impressive hearth, and the oils of plantation landscapes and former proprietors of the estate hung on the walls.

A plump, aged woman, no doubt Lady Berclair herself, was holding court in a velvet-covered chair by the
firescreen
. She caught Josette's eye and in a loud voice called, “Come here, Miss Price.”

Josette, having no choice but to obey, walked through bodies of men and women that parted like the Red Sea. Painfully aware of the drab color of her gown, she squared her shoulders and raised her brows. The future mistress of Beddingfield Park would not be cowed. She curtsied before the old dragon.

“How is your mother?”

“She's well.”

“And you are Josette, the eldest girl?”

“Yes, your ladyship. My sister is...” Josette looked for Amy and spied her latched onto Edward's jacket. “She is with our escort, Edward Price.”

“Your cousin?”

“Yes.” Josette smiled to excuse Edward for not being pasted onto her own arm.

“Of course.
We were introduced when you were all but children. I don't recall your sister's coming out.”

“It was just last year.”

In one breath the woman said, “I'm very sorry about your brother. You are acquainted with my nephew, I understand?” Lady Berclair gave a meaningful tilt of her head, and before Josette could summon any false compliment he was beside her.
 

“Phillip,” his aunt ordered, “Take poor Miss Price and find her a seat.”

Josette flushed at the idea that she was helpless. “I can find my own chair, thank you,” she said coolly, and Lady Berclair frowned. “My grief has not overcome me to that degree,” she muttered.

Carter moved to take her arm but she hurried past him.
Phillip?
Josette's mind scrambled for a response to the feelings that churned in her vitals. What a peculiar Christian name for him. She had not known it and quickly decided that it did not suit.

Edward had placed himself between two of the prettiest ladies in the room, one being Carter's cousin, Caroline, and the other Josette’s own sister. Amy appeared to be observing the occasion with a keen interest but there was a faraway look in her eyes similar to their Papa’s when plagued by weighty ideas.

With no choice, Josette took a lone chair and dared anyone to gawk. A familiar-looking gentleman with brownish hair and a puce waistcoat took a seat one away from her and smiled.

Josette pressed her lips together and leaned slightly to the left. A row ahead, her own party whispered in serious conversational tones with Carter’s cousin. Amy's dress was almost amethyst, and Miss
Berclair’s
emerald. Together they look jewel-like, and with heads ducked together, intriguing. A break in the general conversation of the room as Lady Berclair cleared her throat, allowed Josette to catch the last of what Caroline was saying: "…that she wasn't half as spirited as the younger sister."

As if in reply, Amy, finding her in the crowd, gave her a flitting glance.

Josette strained to hear more but it was lost as the other guests seated themselves. She knew immediately it was her self of whom they spoke, and there was only one person in the room who would not find Josette Price spirited. Upon that determination, he took a seat right beside her.

Josette stared at the tiny program in her hands and tried to make sense of the words. She was aware that the pianoforte was being played, but more so, was attuned to the intimidating presence only a hair’s breadth away from her side.

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