Josephine accompanied her father to dine at Sir Hadley's request. Elise had insisted on staying in, as she often did, citing the days stress as sufficient reason. They were accustomed to and accepting of Elise's reclusive nature. Josephine, unlike her sister, scarcely declined an invitation. She found enjoyment in even the dullest of places. And as they entered the home of Josephine's latest acceptance, the Yorke's late arrival went unnoticed in lieu of her beautifully diverting countenance and intricately trimmed silk gown. Her dark curls were delicately secured with a sparrow pin made of silver and her cerulean eyes had regained the vibrancy that prior anxiety had diminished. Although dark hair was not considered fashionable, the contrast with her light eyes made for a striking appearance. Her father's stoic face was made harsher against the softness of hers.
She and her father were greeted by the evening's host. Josephine loved Sir Hadley with genuine ardor. They shared the same optimistic spirit, a welcomed quality which her own household sorely lacked. She never understood the relationship between Sir Hadley and her contradictory father, always thinking them an odd pair. She and Constance were similar in many ways, as Josephine expected most friends to be.
"Good evening Miss Josephine, enchanting as always. I trust you will not leave my acquaintance as eagerly as before," Sir Hadley teased, both hands folded behind his back.
"Thank you Sir. Please accept my sincerest apologies for the earlier impatience as well as our late arrival this evening. Father cannot seem to do anything with haste, no matter how much provoked," Josephine said grinning toward her father. It was always one thing or another. Tonight Mr. Yorke had forgotten to write a letter which had to be post. Several days before, his cravat had become stained with tea, needing a fresh one. That had set them late by nearly a half hour, leaving one of Mr. Yorke's poor tenants waiting in the blistering sun. Sans her father, Josephine was always on time.
Sir Hadley responded with a slow grin, "Dear child, your time would be more wisely spent schooling a dog in latin, rather than trying to hasten your father. There are certain inevitabilities in life each one must come to accept. Death, taxes, and your father's lack of punctuality to name a few."
"I am fond of Latin, though you are right. Will I ever be so wise as you?"
"Heavens girl I hope not...I desire your optimism preserved." Sir Hadley rocked back onto his heels, grabbing his lapels, and shot Mr. Yorke a conspiratorial smirk.
"Then for now, I shall treasure my ignorance...I am eager to hear of your time in Dover," she replied in earnest.
"I will not permit myself to bore you, other than new acquaintances there is not much to entertain."
Mr. Yorke joined, "I take sufficient pleasure in your dull excursions, promise you will bore me in great detail."
Sir Hadley smiled at his long-time friend. "Yes, that should make for a fine evening."
Across the room, Josephine caught the guilty eyes of her unaccompanied cousin, Mr. John Morley. He walked over, silently took her hand, and led them into the dining room. I guess she had no choice in the matter of dinner companion. Josephine took no offense but rather amusement in her cousin's forthrightness. The other dinner guests had filed in before them, taking their seats.
Mr. Morley's thin face was clothed in an overtly abashed expression as he turned to his cousin and quietly began, "Please, do not glare at me with such disdain. You look at me as if a traitor slated for the gallows. It is unlike you to be so harsh."
Josephine squelched the urge to bounce her leg beneath the table. Her father would never let that sort of impropriety go unnoticed. She swiftly whispered a reply to Morley. "Well cousin, am I not owed an acutely detailed explanation? It was not but a few days ago I held you in the highest regard as a trusted companion, yet now I find myself deprived of the very foundation for which we became close. Namely honesty. I hear from my father, not you, my father that you are engaged to someone whom I was unaware existed! What possible justification can you offer?"
Before Mr. Morley could reply, an inquiry came from the head of the table, "Morley, when will we meet your future bride? We are all anxious of Miss Pendy's arrival. Is it known when we shall expect her?" Mr. Hadley cheerfully asked, not realizing the tension fuming from Miss Yorke.
Morley winced in veiled shame, but recovered to answer, "Very shortly I should hope. She is with her family in Sussex, but promptly wishes to visit." Morley grew in discomfort, as he felt Josephine's annoyed glare.
Mr. Yorke instinctively added, "I have offered for Miss Pendy to stay with us when she arrives, and she has graciously accepted the invitation."
Josephine's eyes grew wider than her resentment. Forgetting the soon departure to London, her bitterness was aggravated by the responsibility of housing her cousin's fiancé, a variable stranger, as well as the injury Miss Pendy's presence would inflict upon Josephine's jilted best friend.
Mr. Yorke continued, "I gathered that with my Josephine scampering off to London, Elise would welcome the companionship."
"For your hospitality I am grateful Uncle," Mr. Morley tipped his head down in a show of appreciation.
The remainder of the table continued in polite conversation, while Morley and Miss Yorke sat in silence. Neither sure of what to say to the other. He felt compelled to break the silence with a hurried apology. "I should have told you, I met Mary on my trip to Sussex but I was not sure of my own feelings for her. I wished to tell you Josie, but you know how I cherish my privacy. And keeping secrets is not in your nature."
This she could not argue. Josephine had an affinity for gossip. She credited it to her uneventful life in the country. She loathed being bored yet often was. Would Josephine have been able to keep Miss Pendy a secret? She doubted it. Always quick to forgive, Josephine graciously accepted his apology. "I understand your reasoning. Just this once, I can overlook the offense." He was as much a brother to her as a cousin, peace was the only option. "So now that your secret is out, you must tell me about her."
"Josie, she is wonderful," he couldn't help but grin from ear to ear, as he thought about his fiancé. "Mary is quite calm, with a kind heart and kinder eyes. I feel at ease with her."
"She must be wonderful, John. One would have to be in order to put up with you." They both grinned and Josephine sincerely added, "I really am happy for you. She is a fortunate woman."
They talked of Miss Pendy, and he spoke only favorable things. Josephine looked forward to formally meeting her. A sudden thought came to Morely, "Oh, that reminds me! I finally met your Mr. Tennyson."
"Why does everyone refer to him as mine? Like he is a riding coat or silk ribbons. It is infuriating and we are not even acquainted. How is it that everyone else is coming into this man's acquaintance?"
"I cannot speak for all but I met him at Tattersalls, while inspecting an Arabian. I have heard that you will meet him yourself soon enough."
"Precisely what have you heard?"
Mr. Morley glanced down at the final course of lemon cream and lowered his voice. "I have it on good authority that Lady Cavender has already extended an invitation for him to dine, shortly after your and Miss Whitmore's arrival in London."
"It may have been at Lady Cavender's urging, but I assure you my Father is somehow involved. He has been pestering more than the usual. And her invitation to London seems expertly timed. I believe they are accomplices in crime."
Morley laughed, "You might be on to something Josie."
"I am sure of it, but there is no avoiding Mr. Tennyson. Father is anxious to marry me off. Since I am resigned to my fate, I must know your first impressions."
"I will not allow my opinion to sway your thoughts." Morley shoveled a giant bite into his mouth.
And he was right. His opinion, whether good or bad, would hold much weight in her eyes. Knowing he would not be persuaded, she finished, "Yet another secret you can keep cousin."
Sir Hadley's dinner was the perfect last outing before Josephine's departure to London. The preceding week passed routinely as she prepared for the arduous journey, reluctantly leaving Elise in her father's negligent care. Josephine took solace in knowing the overbearing yet capable housemaid, Mrs. Biddlecombe, would aid her sister, as well, their long-time governess. Josephine was never bothered by Mrs. Biddlecombe's imperious ways, she thought it just the right temperament for an upper housemaid. Mr. Yorke, however, was less obliging, and the pair were often at odds. Mr. Yorke had always been a stern man and generally unhappy, more so since the death of his wife.
Josephine knew her absence would be felt throughout the house, but both her father and sister insisted she accompany Miss Whitmore. Josephine bid her father goodbye as she placed her surprise purchase from Dixon and Sons into his hand, a blue enamel watch, with a charming painted scene.
"I have not a need for this Josephine," he said in an ungrateful tone. "You should not have gone to the trouble."
Accustomed to her father's blunt manners, she paid him little note, bestowing a kiss upon his cheek. "Must you always be so gruff? I did not purchase it out of necessity. Mr. Dixon commissioned it exclusively for me. I thought it quite fitting, a rare time-piece for an equally rare gentleman."
Mr. Yorke placed a single kiss atop his daughter's head. He gave no further acknowledgements. Josephine, however, had no doubts of his appreciation.
"I expect you to behave with the utmost propriety." Mr. Yorke began a short lecture, while she offered a comforting nod. "I have already written Lord Cavender to command strict watch over you. Your wits and howling may please your country familiars, but London society expects superior manners and has little patience for sharp-tongued girls."
"I am not so green father," she lovingly reassured. "My last bout in London produced no ill reports, otherwise I am certain you would have given me a scolding reproof."
"Understand me Josephine," his voice growing more serious, "Lord Cavender fully intends an introduction between you and Mr. Charles Tennyson."
"Ha! I suspected your involvement!" she interjected, pointing at her father's chest. "Cousin John gave me due warning."
"Child, do not make me cross," Mr. Yorke sternly advised, clutching fists at each side.
"Father, you are always cross, with or without reason. There is little I can do to remedy that, except to assure you that I will closely mind my behavior."
He sounded anything but relieved. "That you shall, and do not let your mongrel be the source of any discomfort for your benevolent hosts," he warned.
"He is not a mongrel," Josephine looked down affectionately at Red, her Scarteen Kerry beagle. Red let out a faint whine as she stroked the top of his broad head and his white tail pointed to the sky. She leaned down and whispered in his long brown ear, "No matter what father says about you, you will never be a mongrel. You are a dog of superior breeding, and he cannot steal that from you."
She turned her attention to Elise who was quietly waiting to bid her own farewells. Neither made a spectacle over their parting. Josephine imparted a few minor instructions, and urged her sister to write often, which she knew Elise would not. Their correspondence was generally one-sided, whether on paper or in person. Although not keen on sending her own letters, Elise always enjoyed the entertaining accounts of Josephine's adventures. And Josephine hoped London would be full of them.
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