Josette

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

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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.