Dearest Josephine

by Caroline George

  Boundaries protected them, or so Elias told himself. He needed to finish his lessons and think about his future, not pine for a girl engaged to his cousin.

  Their separation wouldn’t last forever. He and Josephine had agreed to resume their friendship once emotions dulled. Still, doing the right thing made him feel wrong.

  With Christmas Eve came flurries and opulence. Partiers arrived after nightfall, their presence accompanied by the squeal of string instruments and Mrs. Darling’s last-minute alterations. Everyone put on their best behaviour, that is, the best one might expect.

  “Attractive women at every turn. Oh, how I envy you,” Sebastian said. He promenaded through the garden, beholding his guests, ladies clothed in the finest muslin and satin, adorned with fur stoles, feather plumes, and ropes of pearls.

  “Me?” Elias smirked. He followed Sebastian down a gravel path lined with torches, his nose tingling with scents of roasted nuts and cider.

  As expected, the Darlings had transformed Cadwallader Park into a pleasure garden. Full-length mirrors glistened between topiaries, offering lavish reflections. Vendors scattered the grounds and served treats while performers juggled, twirled fire, and contorted their bodies into knots. Indeed, the event resembled a circus more than a ball.

  “Why, yes. You may have your pick of them. I, of course, am no longer an eligible bachelor. My heart belongs to Miss De Clare,” Sebastian said with a sigh. He paused in front of a looking glass to retie his cravat.

  “You changed your mind about her?” Elias clenched his fists as snowflakes drifted from the heavens and dusted his tailcoat.

  “London enlightened me, dear cousin. What an education. I have abandoned my childish ways for good.” Sebastian chuckled, his eyes squinting to imply mischief. “The city taught me an important lesson, that we are never without options. Even what’s expected of us comes with . . . customization.” He finished adjusting his necktie. “I assure you I’m quite altered.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Elias mustered a smile and clasped his arms behind his back. He shivered as they explored the maze of mirrors, his chest aching with a pain so acute he struggled to remain upright. What had caused Sebastian’s newfound affection?

  More so, what had taken place in London?

  Elias halted when they passed a gilded mirror. His reflection stared back at him, stoic and startling with pale skin and a furrowed brow. He had trimmed his hair for the ball, leaving the dark curls to rest evenly against his forehead. The cut seemed a poor decision, for it made his features more pronounced. His jaw curved with sharp, chiselled edges. His body appeared long and angular in the fitted clothes Sebastian had given him.

  The man in the glass didn’t match Lord Welby. He was new.

  “You may benefit from befriending a smile, Elias. Women dislike sour-faced chaps.” Sebastian grinned and waltzed toward the main house, his breaths curling upward like smoke.

  Elias straightened his jacket and moved through the whirl of snow. He stomped his boots against the icy gravel, each step relieving some of the pressure within him. He didn’t want to admit his ill will toward Sebastian, nor did he want to imagine Josephine with another man. But the feelings and thoughts poisoned him.

  It all seemed odd—Sebastian’s confession, his sudden change of heart. Whatever had occurred in London gave him a plan. He intended to do something that involved Josephine.

  Of what nature, Elias couldn’t be sure.

  Shrubbery grew scarce as the path snaked out of the topiary maze into a garden dotted with stalls and performers. Elias quickened his step. He joined the river of guests as they floated between flower beds, their forms hidden beneath wool cloaks and hooded capes.

  The cold seemed different tonight, almost hospitable. It did not pierce Elias’s clothes or burn his skin. It transformed Cadwallader Park into a frozen oasis. Icicles dangled from rosebushes. Torchlight shimmered across the thin layer of snow while steam plumed from vendors’ cauldrons, rich with the smell of cocoa.

  Elias smiled. He should fetch a cup of hot chocolate for Josephine. She fancied the drink with cream and cinnamon, made thick enough to leave a milky moustache on her upper lip.

  He stopped dead in his tracks.

  Josephine stood beneath a frosted arbour a few yards to his left, surrounded by aristocrats. She borrowed three balls from an entertainer and cradled them in her gloved hands. Then she tossed the objects, fumbling to juggle them. One by one, the balls landed in the snow. Her audience cheered. She curtsied, laughing so hard her eyes squinted.

  A lump clogged Elias’s throat. He watched Josephine catch snowflakes with her tongue. He remained a static onlooker as she captivated people with her antics. He didn’t want to spend his life here when she stood there. He belonged at her side. He belonged with her.

  Fire billowed from a performer’s mouth, the flames sizzling as they collided with the air. Elias flinched. He glanced at Josephine, his stomach lurching when she met his gaze. Her expression softened. She gave a half smile and waved.

  Their lives would continue like this, parallel, never intersecting. Josephine would become Mrs. Sebastian Darling. Elias would assume his father’s title. They could smile and wave as if not destined for heartbreak, but nothing would ever be the same, nor would it be what they wanted. Elias understood. He needed to sunder from her.

  Better to hurt now than suffer later.

  Josephine followed a group of girls to the hot-chocolate stall. She wore her bumblebee dress and a green cape, her curls pinned up with golden clips. She laughed again, and he recognized her laughter was medicine, but it was also rebellion. It broke down barriers.

  It made the worst pains bearable.

  Elias resumed his trek to the manor. He climbed onto a terrace and entered the ballroom through a set of patio doors, his neck prickling with sweat as warmth greeted his cool skin.

  Guests filled the chamber, pressed shoulder to shoulder. They danced across the mosaic floor and congregated near the orchestra, all glittering and gleaming like firelight on snow. Elias squeezed past them. He savoured aromas of spiced wine and perfume, the earthy musk of evergreen. Indeed, the ball was unlike any party he’d experienced.

  The air itself seemed tinted rose and champagne.

  “Mr. Welby,” Anne murmured from the dining room’s threshold. She held a platter of mincemeat pies, her new uniform starched and pressed. The butler had agreed to let her bring dishes from the kitchen because the footmen were needed to serve drinks. Such inclusion seemed a great honour, for her scullery-maid duties confined her to the servants’ quarters.

  “Save me a pie,” Elias said with a wink. He made his way to the dance floor. Until tonight, he hadn’t noticed the ballroom’s ceiling. It arched into a dome, its mural depicting a gateway to heaven with cherubs painted blush and gold, all nestled among lavender clouds.

  Mrs. Darling had decorated the space below with candelabras, silk paper bunting, and wreaths made from holly and laurel. Garlands entwined bannisters and hung from doorways, along with mistletoe, which the maids and young ladies avoided.

  Lord Welby emerged from the sea of faces and greeted Elias with a quick nod. “Our relatives take pride in their hosting, do they not?” His countenance remained inscrutable.

  “Indeed,” Elias said as he observed extravagance in a stupor. His ears purred with a cello’s thrum, the whoosh of skirts against marble. He scanned the crowd and spotted Sebastian near the orchestra, conversing with Mrs. Darling and Widow De Clare.

  “You’ve matured into quite the distinguished gentleman, Son. Your uncle finds you well suited for your title.” Lord Welby lifted his chin, the muscles around his mouth tensing. He resembled a monarch with his silvering chops and the pendants fastened to his tailcoat.

  “I’m obliged to him.” Elias flinched when his father gestured to a dancer, a girl with mousy hair and mature features. He’d nearly forgotten about the prospective bride.

  “Have you made yourself known to Miss Wood?
I daresay she’s a fine match for you,” Lord Welby said. “She comes from royal blood, and she’s set to inherit a substantial fortune. Together you would make the Welby Family a pillar of high society.”

  “Not yet,” Elias admitted. He hadn’t given the girl much thought until this moment. His mind had occupied itself elsewhere, perhaps juggling balls or drinking hot chocolate.

  “Ask her to dance with you. I insist.”

  “I’ve grown attached to someone.” The words breezed from Elias before he could cage them. They whooshed like skirts and thrummed like cellos. They clung to the air like evergreen.

  Lord Welby cocked his head. “Really? Is her family established?”

  “Very much so.” Elias drew a breath. He knew his father would disapprove of Josephine, yet a small part of him wondered if he was incorrect. “However, the lady is betrothed.”

  “Betrothed? Ha!” Lord Welby leaned forward, his breath warming Elias’s cheek. “You cannot afford to taint yourself with ill repute. Such behaviour may suit your cousin, but you are not afforded the luxury of misconduct. Already your position in this world threatens to unravel. I hold you together with my title and promise of inheritance. Without me, however, you are nothing to society but a rich man’s bastard. Look around. I wish to protect you from these ravenous dogs. If you heed my advice, I’ll make someone of you—”

  “What if she were not betrothed? Would you consider her then?” Elias dabbed sweat from his brow, a sharp pain rippling through his abdomen. He didn’t want to marry someone for the sake of title. Indeed, his father had warned him not to marry a woman out of convenience.

  “Make yourself known to Miss Wood. If you find her disagreeable, then I permit you to search for a wife of equal grade. She must come from a notable family and be without scandal.”

  “Do you require her to possess a certain sum?”

  Lord Welby didn’t appear to hear the question. He gave Elias’s shoulder a hard pat and stepped toward the patio. “Return to Windermere Hall in the spring. I have work for you to do.”

  “After my cousin’s wedding,” Elias said with a nod. Lord Welby disappeared into the multitude and Elias stepped closer to the dance floor.

  Tension festered within him like an embedded splinter. He watched Sebastian and Mrs. Darling join the dance lineup, his senses numbing to the party’s splendour. Music grew dense and indistinct within his ears. The aromas made his stomach churn.

  He loathed something, perhaps a lot of things. He disliked his own temperament. He resented Lord Welby for not caring about him as a father should. He despised his need for connections and reputation, the pettiest of necessities. What did he expect to happen once he completed his rise to lordship? People would still see him as the bastard.

  Society preferred disappointment, for complaints led to exceptional conversation. Mrs. Capers had said it best, that no topic sparked discussion like general displeasure, for speaking of sunshine seemed dull when life offered so much rain.

  Elias tugged his cravat, the air thin in his lungs. What if Lord Welby did accept Josephine? The man’s criteria had included respectable family and repute, both of which Josephine possessed. Of course, Elias would need to persuade the Darlings to void the engagement, which presented risks to his reputation.

  Most people did not think highly of men who stole their cousin’s fiancée.

  Regardless, Elias couldn’t let decorum prevent him from taking his one chance. He would have to marry someone eventually. His father expected it. And who could replace Josephine? No lady bore even the slightest resemblance to her, not in manners nor disposition.

  She was the only girl in the world.

  “Move, Elias!” Kitty and Fitz sprinted toward the dining room with Miss Karel in pursuit. They shoved through the crowd, passing in a whirlwind of limbs.

  “Slow down,” Elias yelled. He sighed and shook his head. All evening the children had played blind man’s bluff, except they’d forgotten to use a blindfold. Their game consisted of stampedes through the house and their unfortunate governess endeavouring to catch them.

  If they weren’t careful, Miss Karel would one day drop dead from exhaustion.

  With a violin’s sharp trill, the song concluded. Dancers bowed and curtsied, prompting an exchange of participants. Guests hurried onto the dance floor to claim their places. They formed two lines, men in one, ladies in the other.

  Elias stood his ground as women gathered around the floor. They giggled, their smiles begging for partners. He should ask Miss Wood to dance. Perhaps a quick trip around the dance floor would please Lord Welby and make Elias appear less taciturn.

  Josephine, now without her cape, stepped through the patio doors with her friends. She dusted flurries off her skirt and beelined to the dining room. Her ruby gown shimmered in the chandelier’s glow. Her curls drooped from their pins, framing her face with snow-caked strands.

  Elias’s mind went blank. He moved toward her, crossing the dance floor as if in a trance. His heartbeat grew louder, stronger, until he felt it in the tips of his toes.

  Lord Welby wanted him to find a suitable wife, but there was no one more suited to him than Josephine. Everything he wasn’t, she was, as if they were created together but pulled apart.

  He couldn’t stay away.

  “Miss De Clare . . .” Elias nodded to her companions, whom he recognized from the bonfire masquerade. “Pardon my intrusion.”

  “Yes?” Josephine turned, her smile vanishing. She gazed at him with a panicked look in her eyes.

  “May I have the next dance?” Elias asked. His voice wavered as though to warn him. Such a request threatened to circulate his attachment, for if Lord Welby beheld Elias and Josephine together, would he not form a realization?

  ’Twas a great danger for Elias to break his sworn distance with Josephine, especially before discussing matters of engagement with the Darlings. A dance could very well smother the impossible hope still burning within him.

  But the world grew from impossible things.

  Josephine let out a breath. “You may.”

  Elias bowed and returned to the dance floor. Within minutes, he stood across from her, positioned in a line of gentlemen. Sweat painted lines down his temples as guests observed from the side-lines, batting the sultry air with fans, whispering into each other’s ears. They seemed intrigued by yet another country dance, all except for Sebastian. He remained near the orchestra, now amusing a young woman with peacock feathers in her hair.

  Josephine curtsied as music flooded the ballroom. She turned and extended her arm. Elias placed his hand beneath hers, the silk of her glove caressing his knuckles. He took four steps forward, three steps back, then pivoted to face her.

  “Are you altogether pleased with the ball?” he asked as they wove around each other like plaited dough, moving back and forth, spinning until the room blurred.

  “Quite.” She lifted her chin, refusing to meet his gaze. “Why did you seek my company? I’m certain other ladies would have appreciated your invitation.”

  “I would’ve been remiss not to offer myself as a partner,” Elias said when they formed a circle with other dancers. “Your fiancé seems otherwise engaged.”

  “He enjoys meeting new people.” Josephine sashayed a few beats. She locked hands with Elias, the music guiding them into a standoff of silence and touches. Her formality struck him like ice water. It sent a shiver up his spine. It chilled him to the bone.

  Never had she treated him as a mere acquaintance. Despite his reserve, she’d always greeted him with warmth. He adored that warmth, how she had raced into his study with the scent of outdoors on her clothes, the way she arranged his furniture so she could read upside down near the window. Their relationship had bloomed like a seedling beneath the sun.

  “We must keep to our agreement,” Josephine said when the music reached a crescendo. She twirled back to her place in line, her expression hardening.

  Elias winced. Keep to their agreement? No, he didn’
t want to stay apart, hold his tongue, choose Lord Welby’s prudence in place of his own will. He loved Josephine more than he believed possible, and that love compelled him forward. How could he turn a blind eye to Sebastian’s misdeeds? More so, how could he justify not pursuing the girl before him when a solution lingered in reach? The betrothal didn’t sunder them. Lord Welby seemed keen to accept a lady of good standing. In truth, there seemed but a conversation dividing Elias from Josephine.

  He could alter their fates. Yes, Lord Welby may disapprove, the Darlings might express outrage, but Elias felt less inclined to care. He no longer desired to emulate his father, not when so much hinged on this choice. And he chose Josephine.

  Until the stars dimmed to black, he would choose her.

  Without saying a word, Elias left the dance floor and walked to the patio doors, hoping his sudden exit would prompt Josephine to follow him. He abandoned the room’s champagne glow, all heat dissipating from his clothes the instant he stepped onto the ice-glossed terrace.

  “I can bear this no longer,” Elias said when Josephine emerged from the house. He trembled, not from the wind and snow, but a feeling so rich it stole the air from his lungs.

  Josephine stared at him. Puffs of white released from the gap between her lips. Flurries kissed her bare neck, melting into droplets that shimmered on her skin like diamonds.

  “For years I thought my life would get better once I made something of myself. I stood in grand rooms like that one. I went to the best school, obeyed my father’s commands, all without considering what I wanted. Being a bastard . . . It seemed to drown out everything else until that’s all I was—the unwanted son who had to prove his worth.” Elias clenched his jaw and shuffled his feet against the ice. “Blazes, I was forced to leave my home, and I didn’t shed a tear or complain. Nothing. And you know why? Because it wasn’t my home. I never had a real home or family or anything until I came here, until I met you. You.” His voice cracked, waning into jagged gasps and the gentle patter of snow. “Don’t marry Sebastian.”