Josette Read online

  Josette

  Danielle Thorne

  Josette is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Copyright © 2010 by Danielle Thorne

  All rights reserved

  Published by

  Whimsical Publications, LLC

  Florida

  http://www.whimsicalpublications.com

  ISBN-13 for print book: 978-1-936167-31-9

  ISBN-13 for e-book: 978-1-936167-32-6

  Cover art by Traci Markou

  Editing by Melissa Hosack

  ---------------

  Dedication

  To Marissa Farmer, my old friend: You bring sunshine into the lives of everyone around you. Never give up on romance.

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  Chapter one

  Josette Price pictured her brother’s face when he read her report. He would have been crushed to death by a massive oak if he’d not been away from home. Only the day before, an old tree had fallen onto the roof of the west wing. Despite the unfortunate effects, luck had prevailed and no one had been idling in George’s old room.

  She was perched on her favorite bench underneath a canopy of bindweed at the eastern boundary of Beddingfield Park. Her short, dark curls were tucked under an old bonnet with only a few stray rebels. A rumble of thunder in the distance interrupted her thoughts.

  The sound neared, and Josette realized it was hoof beats at great speed. She stood and rose up on her toes to see over the distant elms. A rider bearing down from the direction of town came into view. She hurried across the grounds to watch.

  The visitor, with a cape soaring behind him like a bat, made an abrupt turn and sped across the park, avoiding the drive altogether. A flash of color made her catch her breath: Royal Navy Blue. George was home from the French blockade.

  Josette ran, gown whipping about her legs. “George,” she cried, waving her arms as she went. In the mad dash to close the distance between them, she darted across his mount’s path, realizing the mistake as the great beast reared. Josette threw herself to the ground as the horse danced out of the way, but in a fit of passion, the animal tossed its rider.

  The man flew through the air and landed in a pile of brambles. She scurried to her feet, losing her bonnet.

  “George! Are you hurt?” With a surprised start, Josette realized that it was not her brother at all. The stranger had her brother’s coloring and a blue frock, but nothing more. Her mind took in the size and breadth of a foreboding naval officer and cringed at her blunder. “Sir,” she said.

  He’d lost his hat, too. The officer got slowly up to his feet as she dropped a curtsy. His dark face snapped with indignation. “Madam,” he answered in a growl.

  They stared at one another until lightening splintered the sky. It was thunder she had heard after all. The heavens released a shower of heavy drops and so, assuming the gentleman would follow, Josette darted for the house.

  Her home was a stone, flat-faced dwelling with a high roof and narrow chimneys. A tangle of ivy had taken over a wall, intent on embellishing the white-washed arches over the conservatory. By the time she reached the front door and its little portico, she realized she was not only soaked, but alone.

  “Papa!” she shouted, as she stampeded into the vestibule. “Papa!” She knocked brusquely on the study door before storming in.

  “Good Lord, Josette, what is it?”

  Josette’s father had a frown creasing the folds of his skin. His eyes glared impatiently from beneath fuzzy brows.

  “Someone’s come. An officer.” She squeezed her hands anxiously. Her father did not like to be disturbed in his sanctuary and he did not like it when his daughter wandered about in the rain.

  “You’re wet,” came his disapproving answer. Still, Sir Robert Price unfolded himself from his chair next to the fire and moved over to one of three great windows overlooking the park.

  “It’s not George,” Josette said.

  Sir Robert glanced at the wet puddles from Josette’s slippers. “Go change at once. You are not fit to be seen.”

  Josette felt the muslin sticking to her skin. Of course she was not. She’d put on very little beneath her morning dress and it showed. Shamed that her lack of modesty had been discovered, she hurried up the stairs.

  Had the officer noticed? Heat tinged her cheeks but she pushed it away. She’d done her duty and informed her father of their visitor, petticoats not withstanding. At least they would be able to stoke the fire and fetch a warm drink.

  As she reached the top of the stairs, Hannah met her with a gasp. “Which you’re all wet, Miss Price,” she chided. The ancient woman, who had served two generations of Price family, took her by the elbow in concern. “And you’ve been out without your bonnet, too.”

  Josette allowed herself to be led to her room. The door had not shut behind them before she startled herself in the looking glass. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face flushed on both cheeks. What had the officer thought of the hoyden in the woods?

  A recollection of him lying in a heap made her stare at her own reflection. With his cape thrown back, the epaulette on his shoulder had gleamed in the dreary gloom.

  There had been no white piping on that uniform.

  “Oh bother,” she muttered.

  The man galloping across Beddingfield Park had been no mere lieutenant. He’d worn the rank of Captain.

  ≈ ≈ ≈

  Hannah sent her warm milk but Josette was at no leisure to enjoy it, for Amy came bursting in after the first swallow.

  “Josette,” said her younger sister breathlessly, “a captain from the Royal Navy is here!” She squealed the last word then jumped onto the bed like a little girl. “Hannah said he’s very handsome, too.”

  “And puffed up,” answered Josette.

  “But he’s a captain. He is important.”

  “First Lieutenants are important, too.”

  Amy waved this away as if it were unpleasant vapor. With her prim nose, pink sash, and golden hair set with ribbons, she looked angelic. “But a captain’s more so. And I’d wager he’s come about George. He’s been promoted to be sure.”

  A dark idea flowered in Josette’s mind at the same time a peal of thunder crashed overhead. She hurried to the window to inspect the storm.

  “Do you think he’ll stay?” Amy asked. The suspense in her voice revealed she hoped that he would stay and long enough to fall violently in love with her.

  “Bother, Amy,” Josette said impatiently, “What does it matter?” She watched a raindrop trail down the glass like a slow, tired tear. From nowhere, a foreboding weight settled in her chest.

  Dodging the service tray, she made a perfunctory self-examination at her repair. The mirrored image showed dark curls, more a bristly mess than ringlets. She turned to see the bow high on her back matched the smart green flowers scattered across the printed cotton. Green was one of the few colors that didn’t clash with her muddy brown eyes. She frowned at herself then hurried out with Amy dogging her heels.

  The pair of them stopped on the stairs as the doors to their father’s study opened. Out came Bernard, their butler, with a very long face. He nodded toward Hannah waiting at the end of the hall, and their faithful housekeeper burst into tears.

  “Who died?” asked Amy in her carefree voice, and the weight in Josette
’s chest exploded.

  “Bernard!” she cried, forgetting the injustice of being able to only wear green and brown. She jumped down the stairs two at a time. “What is it?” No one scolded her for her precarious actions or tried to stop her from interrupting her father a second time. She knocked as she swept through the door and stopped short at the unwelcome picture.

  Sir Robert stood afore the hearth with a look of disbelief, his hands limp at his sides. His wife was seated beside the great mahogany desk. A small tear cascaded down Lady Price’s cheek just as rain had trickled down Josette’s window.

  “Mama?” Josette swallowed so that panic did not overtake her.

  The man who had cut across the park was standing at the windows. He was rumpled from the fall, and his hair was plastered to his head from the rain. He turned when she entered the room, and the gravity on his face could not be denied. Surely there would have been a letter or an announcement in the ship-news if her brother had come to harm.

  “What is it?”

  The guest cleared his throat and looked for permission to speak, but both of Josette’s parents seemed as if a Midas of bad tidings had frozen them into caricatures of disbelief.

  “Is it George?” Josette beseeched.

  The captain finally spoke. “I’ve beaten the post which is late beyond reason.” He hesitated as Josette’s heart began to race. “Your brother was a trusted friend and a most loyal officer.”

  Josette shook her head as she struggled to make sense of it. “My brother was?” She flapped her arms like a bird, unable to fold them or put them to her hips. This seemed to disconcert the man, and he looked once more to her father.

  “Josette,” her mother whispered, but the captain with penetrating eyes interrupted again.

  “Your brother is dead.” His emotionless answer blew Josette’s heart into pieces.

  “Papa!”

  Her father collapsed against the mantel burying his face into his hands. From the doorway, Amy exploded into tears.

  “No! It can’t be!” Josette shouted, indifferent to the alarmed face on the officer.

  Her mother looked up with grief stricken eyes that urged her not to rage.

  Josette fled up the stairs and to her brother’s chambers where she locked the door and leapt onto the bed. The crack in the ceiling from the mammoth tree dripped a continuous stream of water onto the floor. She snatched a pillow, put it over her mouth and screamed until she felt her throat rip with pain.

  Over and over she hoarsely called her brother’s name, but of course, he did not answer. It wasn’t until the shivering started that she forced herself to accept it wasn’t all a bad dream. Her beloved George was gone. Josette closed her eyes and forced herself to drown in the black void.

  After many hours of trembling in the dark, she carried the shock and misery, along with the scent of him, back to her own silent quarters.

  Hannah was waiting with the straw bonnet that had been lost when Josette collided with the horse and rider. She tearfully explained that the Captain had returned it and asked as to whether it should be replaced. Josette crumpled it and threw it in a corner. It was an old thing, anyway.

  Although she would not face her family at dinner, Josette agreed to take some cold chicken. She did not feel like eating, but the pallor on Hannah’s face tugged at her conscience.

  The rain spattered the windows in a monotonous stream that was impossible to ignore. She knew she should check to make sure the canvas sheets were secure over the hole in George’s room, but could not make herself return. She had left it cold, leaky, and eternally empty. As if in answer to her dilemma, there was a soft knock at the door and Lady Price slipped inside.

  Josette’s mother was a tall, thin woman who had given Amy her flaxen hair. She wore it wound tightly on the top of her head, which showed off a fair complexion and handsome neck. In a swish of silk skirts she dropped onto the bed. Their foreheads touched and Josette’s face screwed up at the pain in her mother’s eyes. Lady Price hugged her tightly and cried into her neck for some time. Her daughter could only pat and squeeze her.

  “He would not have wanted this.” Lady Price laughed into the empty air as she wiped her raw face. “Oh, darling,” she whimpered and the tears broke free again.

  “Mama,” whispered Josette, taking her mother in her arms once more. “He knew the danger. He wrote to me of them in every letter.”

  “And he thought it all grand, didn’t he? The sea and adventure.” Her mother laughed bitterly. “There was no reason for him to be an officer. He had everything here, the park, his title.” She righted herself and smoothed her gown. “Your father is overcome. We must be strong, you and I.” She pressed her lips together in a forced smile. “I’ve invited Captain Carter to stay. We can not send him out into this.” She waved toward the darkened windows, which were still taking a beating.

  “Captain Carter?” asked Josette. The familiar name muddled her already liquid thoughts. “Not the Persephone’s captain?”

  “It’s an honor he’s paid us a call in person.”

  Josette sat up with a jerk. “George’s captain? Come all this way?”

  Her mother nodded. “They just sailed in Portsmouth this Monday past. He came straight away.”

  “But why should he?” Anger flooded over Josette, and she welcomed it. “Why didn’t he send word?”

  “He did,” her mother said quickly to calm her daughter's rising temper. “He did not know the news had not reached us. His aunt lives at Ashfield Hall, and he’s expected.”

  “I’ve never known a captain to do such a thing.”

  “Many captains call when they’re able, but only to the families of those they hold in the highest regard.”

  Lady Price said this with pride as if it should make the anguish easier to bear, but if the truth was that Carter had relatives in the country, his respects had been a mere convenience.

  Josette would not set the bearer of Beddingfield Park’s tragic news free of condemnation. “If he thought so highly of George, he would not have let him die.” Her chin quivered, but she would not cry. “Oh, Mama, I’ve no true friend left in the world.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Josette woke to a blinding sun that should have been veiled by curtains, but no one had drawn them. She shivered in the stale clothing she had neglected to remove the night before. The horrible memory of what had befallen Beddingfield Park washed over her before her feet touched the floor. With great difficulty, she changed by her own accord into a dull black sack of a gown and tipped-toed down into the heart of the quiet house.

  Noises were coming from the back, but not the cheerful songs that carried up on most mornings. Josette had never in her memory beat Hannah or the housemaids up and about. The house seemed to sigh, and she felt the emptiness of it keenly. Once it had lived on dreams of her young master’s return, but now he was dead. Josette and Amy had no other brothers. When her father was gone...

  As this apprehension infiltrated her mind, Josette slipped into the breakfast parlor. To her surprise, sitting in his smart blue coat was George’s Captain Carter, with a cup of coffee halfway up to his lips. He seemed to start when he saw her and jumped to his feet. “Madam,” he said.

  Josette could find nothing to answer, so she took a chair opposite him and stared instead until something came to her mind. “You are Captain Carter?” she finally asked. She pressed her lips together and gave him an inspection.

  He inclined his head and waited for an invitation to sit, which she offered with a jerk of her head.

  “I knew your brother well.”

  “So you’ve said,” replied Josette. “And I know of you.”

  For some reason, this came out sounding like a threat, and she watched his brows rise slightly over shadowed, deep-set eyes. They were green and very clear.

  “And he spoke of you often, Miss Price.” His tone hinted at something questionable.

  Josette frowned. Her brother had been completely wrong about this man. Geo
rge thought Rose Sparrow had been in love with him when he was fourteen. He’d been wrong about that, too. He was not always a very good judge of character, Josette reminded herself. “My brother said you were the finest captain he ever served under.”

  “I believe I was but one of two.”

  “He also said you liked to give chase.”

  “Indeed?”

  “At all costs.”

  “I only follow orders, Miss Price.”

  “Not instincts?”

  “Fortunately, I find them to be frequent companions.”

  Someone interrupted them from the kitchen with fresh coffee. Josette stared past Carter’s head to the sunny grounds that contradicted her every emotion. “You’ve given us a terrible shock,” she continued once they were alone. “George was my only brother.”

  Josette’s voice quavered at the mention of George’s name, and she had to swallow a sip of steaming black liquid to keep from bursting into tears. She felt the captain examining her and when she met his eye, saw pity mixed with something she could not make out.

  “We trusted you,” she managed at last, and the blame she’d felt since the moment he uttered his cruel words stirred in her belly. “We entrusted him into your care, and in the King’s, and now he is dead.”

  Captain’s Carter face went white, then it colored, and Josette saw that it was not with shame but something dark and angry. She realized with a pinch of remorse that she had offended their guest just as the door opened and Amy joined them. Captain Carter stood again, abruptly, and bowed.

  “We’ve not had formal introductions,” Amy said in a thin voice. She looked sad and watery, but all together beautiful.

  “Miss Amy Price,” Josette said for her. She noticed her sister’s state of dress and felt her jaw slacken. She glanced down at her own dyed gown. For her sister not to don mourning clothes was inexcusable. She’d had energy enough put off her dressing robes.