Josephine's Lists

Chapter 14- Getting Personal

Josephine was subjected to three full days of mockery for the 'arrow incident'. The older men took it as proof that women should abandon sports altogether. Josephine had to laugh along with them, all the while, contemplating kicking their shins.

The 'arrow incident' provided a few of the young gentleman fuel for conversation with Miss Yorke. But, distracted with pining for Tennyson, she hardly noticed the onslaught of attention.

By day four, Tennyson's arm was much improved, and the jests Josephine had to endure became less frequent.

Most of the men had departed on another large hunting party. This time, Lord Grimsby joyfully accompanied them. Tennyson's injury forced him to stay behind, leaving him altogether irritable. Rather than the thrill of the hunt, he was saddled with the insipidity of a picnic.

Sir Cartwright had planned a special picnic in Miss Whitmore's honor and begged for Tennyson's attendance, which he begrudgingly accepted.

Sir Cartwright and Constance were playing a game of croquet opposite Isabella and Miss Horton, while Tennyson and Josephine took seats as distant spectators.

"Alright Tennyson, if I must suffer your company for an entire afternoon, the least you can do is endeavor to entertain me," Josephine commanded as they sheltered beneath the shade of an aged black alder, hands propping her from behind with legs slightly bent and modestly tucked beneath her periwinkle walking dress.

He looked up at her, noticing how the leaves cast a dancing shadow across her face. With a faint smile Tennyson replied, "Seems to me Miss Yorke, you are your own source of entertainment. I would hate to compete."

"I will agree to this fact, but pray, humor me."

"Join the others in croquet if you are desperate for entertainment," he recommended, gesturing toward the game in progress.

"Why would I do that, when torturing you with asinine conversation is infinitely more fun?...I suggest we play a game of sorts....I want you to tell me one thing amusing, one thing somber, and one outright fabrication," Josephine instructed, grinning wildly in anticipation of his response.

"I am not one for childish games. There must be a wiser use of our time. Perhaps I could read to you?" he suggested.

"What book did you happen to bring?" she asked, snatching the warm leather from his hands. "Laurence Sterne, A Sentimental Journey Through France and Italy...Doubtful this is a wiser use of time. It was published ages ago. Besides, I prefer reading in solitude. Now, go on, tell me something amusing."

Tennyson sighed, contemplating and debating whether or not to play along. Having made his decision, he looked at her attentively. "In this light, your eyes appear a dreadful color and look rather dull next to the blue in your dress."

She glared at him in impatience. "I assume, insulting me is amusing to you. Therefore, I will allow it. But now, I will show you how this game is supposed to be played...hmmm something amusing," Josephine said, forming her own answer. "When I was nearly eight, I had an odd obsession with frogs. I would hide them in a little wooden box beneath my bed, and my governess would shriek whenever she discovered a new one. It was one of many unladylike exploits I participated in."

He jabbed, "Are you capable of ladylike behavior?"

"Now, one thing somber," Josephine ordered, ignoring his comment. "And please, be serious."

"I am always serious. I had to miss a promising hunt today, due to your poor aim. Is that somber enough for you?"

Josephine gave him a disapproving glare, and sat up further. "Perhaps I will go first," she said, invalidating his response. Unlike Tennyson, Josephine rarely held back, offering her joy, her sorrow, and everything in between with fearless abandon. She stared into her lap as rays of sun peaked through the trees, her skin warming at their caress. "I have at least one melancholy admission."