A letter came from Caroline, and she kept it to herself with a secret smile. Josette was only a little jealous, but complained loudly that their mutual friend should have written them both. The girls talked of Bath and Brighton, then planned what they should wear when they made their call at Millerd’s picnic.
Through it all, Josette held fast to her determination to rid herself of Carter forever. She waited for the ache to dull and yearned for the cold, long days of winter to freeze it up and shrivel it away. There would be more Edwards, she had promised Amy. Surely she was not too old herself to fall in love again, too. But perhaps it was not meant to be. If Caroline Berclair could do without a husband, surely Josette Price could find a way to settle herself without compromise as well.
To no one’s surprise, Millerd did not waste any time before calling on Amy once more. Josette saw a carriage in the drive and wondered that he should not ride his own mount or walk in such fair weather. She crept up to the garden gate and heard the tell-tale clatter of dishes from the kitchen. With a nod to herself, she slunk across the lawn toward the grove of trees and her seat. If Millerd and Amy wanted company, her sister would know where to find her.
She ducked underneath the cool shade of the bindweed that had climbed ever higher to entangle itself even more in the overhead branches of the trees. Sprawled shockingly out over the bench, her longish legs wiggled her feet back and forth. She hitched up her petticoats a few inches so her ankles could breathe. She had taken to dressing more proper in her solitude for Amy’s sake, but the layers were decidedly uncomfortable. When would Millerd propose, she wondered, and what would her sister do? For the first time in Amy’s life, she seemed to be reflective.
Josette dropped her head back and stared at the cloudless sky. For the first time in her own life, she realized, she seemed to be waiting. Anxiously.
Footsteps shuffled in the grass and she sat up.
Captain Carter stood like an apparition staring blatantly at her bare ankles. She shoved her gown down hastily and wondered whether she had fallen asleep and awakened in a dream.
He cleared his throat after an uncomfortable silence in which Josette found she was awake to be sure. She was so warm that the nape of her neck felt damp and the back of her knees did, too.
“Your bonnet,” he said, and he held out her wine-colored hat from Howden’s. “You left it in the drawing room beside Caroline’s harp.”
Josette rose to take it, aware and feeling quite ridiculous that the bonnet she’d put on that morning had fallen behind the bench in her doze. “I’m always losing such things,” she said. She saw him glance beneath the bench, and his mouth twitched. “You have come to Beddingfield Park.”
“And with no bad tidings, I assure you.”
She took the bonnet and watched his hands go behind his back as his feet involuntarily spread to balance himself against unseen sea swells. Knowing not what to do and having nothing come to mind, she dipped at the knees in a curtsey. When she looked up, she found him staring at her and felt her cheeks flood with heat.
“I asked Millerd to accompany me.” He turned toward the house as if he could spy his friend. “He was happy to call on your sister.”
Josette nodded and searched his face for any sign of forgiveness or at the very least, tolerance.
“I wanted to speak with you, if you would permit it.” He hesitated, seemed to lose his nerve and examined the bench instead.
Josette could only swallow and was certain the pounding in her chest was audible over the birds’ chatter in the trees.
“I received the post not an hour after your departure from Berkeley Square. Letters sent to the blockade that had not found their way to me.”
Josette’s heart cart wheeled. She blinked in slow, horrific realization.
“Your letter was among them.”
At this she could not move. Standing before him knowing he had just read her heart’s confession made her feel completely undressed, a vulnerability she had never known. She had thought the missive long ago and far away enough away for them to forget it entirely.
“Caroline corrected me,” he said, his eyes shifting as if unable to bear the confession. “She made me to understand you have written your cousin off. That there are no attachments.”
Josette could hardly nod her head.
“I thought you despised me when I came to town. You hardly looked at me from the moment I entered the house. And then I was a fool to make presumptions about Captain Wilkins. And you.”
He seemed to wait for her reply. Looking into his beautiful face, Josette forced herself to find the courage to move her mouth: “I could not bear the thought of you having no desire to reply.”
“But I had not received it.”
“I had no idea what you thought after my accusations in Bedfield.”
“It is only natural that you would assume…”
“Please don’t make excuses for me. I wronged you. You, who had done everything in your power to see to such a private matter.”
“It was for your brother, whom I have told you I admired very much.”
“Yes and he was fortunate. And we were fortunate, too, that you would do so.”
“You must not make a hero of me,” he said, and Josette saw pain flash across his face.
“I do not blame you for what happened. He knew the risks. Perhaps we should have all been more pragmatic.”
“And deny him his dream?”
“We can’t have all of our dreams come true.”
Carter eyed her intently, his gaze searching her face for some answer. “Can't we? Will losing Beddingfield Park ruin you forever?”
A tear threatened to trickle down Josette's cheek. “Oh, bother, no,” she said, strangely relieved. “It is my home for now, and I love it so. But you see now I understand that it was not the land or the house itself that made me happy. It was my family and my dear friends. Home is wherever I put my heart, Captain Carter, and you can be,” she replied anxiously, “at the very least my friend.”
“If that is what you wish.” He was silent for a moment as if gathering his courage, and Josette felt hope rise in her chest even as her stomach rolled in angst.
“If your feelings are still what they were when you wrote to me your sweet letter, Josette, I pray that you would tell me now.”
A scarlet blush flowered across Josette's cheeks, so hot that she could not speak. She felt the toes of her boots dig into the loose soil beneath her feet. Her hands began to tremble. That he should want to know such things…“Captain Carter,” she murmured with great effort, “whatever have I done to earn your regard?”
His brows lifted slightly and the lovely green eyes shadowed beneath them lit up with an earnestness that sent her heart soaring. “I have been in love with you since before we ever met. Your brother, who saved my life on more than one occasion, shared his greatest affections and his sister’s miniature with me. To think behind the lovely face was a lady who wrote such lively, intelligent missives, and did so faithfully, entranced me beyond all reason. Through his confidence, I knew you as a girl. Through his death, I have come to know you as a woman.”
Tears streamed freely as Josette struggled not to laugh in happy embarrassment. “You are the only man who has ever had such an opinion of me.”
Carter smiled. “That I must doubt, for from the first moment I saw you dash across the drive and spook my horse it was hopeless. Your high opinion of your family, your courage to stand tall under scrutiny, and even the openness of your mind to find tolerance and affection for all, even my aunt and cousin, have left me to yearn desperately for your companionship.” When he finished, he did not break away but searched her eyes and even her heart it seemed, for some return of favor. “I still do,” he added.
A delicious happiness engulfed Josette, and she suddenly felt no reserve or shame for the feelings radiating from her soul. With a directness that those around her had always claimed to admire she said, “I have never yearned for anyone or an
ything, not even the ground upon which I stand, as much as I have yearned for you, Captain Carter.”
His jaw relaxed and his eyes glimmered with something akin to happiness. Without a thought, she reached for him, and he took her hand and drew her close, so close she could smell the sea spray and sun on the horizon.
“Little Jo,” he said with a soft smile she had not seen before.
She could not look away and did not stop herself when her hands reached for his face on their own accord. She cradled his cheeks and kissed him, thanking Edward one brief moment for his lesson in the library, then forgot everything completely as Phillip Carter finally and firmly took her into his arms.
EPILOGUE
Beddingfield Park had hosted many wedding parties throughout the course of its modest history, but there was never one as bittersweet as the marriage between the eldest daughter of Sir Robert Price and her gallant officer, Captain Carter of HMS Persephone.
Married in the parish by their familiar and amicable friend, Mr. Egglestone, they were happy to welcome his wife and her rowdy nieces and nephews to the happy affair.
The groom’s particular friend Mr. Millerd was honored to witness, and paid especial attention to his dear family friends, even their youngest daughter to whom he had relegated himself as trusted friend and advisor (for the time being).
The festivities were also graced, according to the gossip columns, by the good company of Lady Berclair and her daughter, relatives of the groom, who having just returned from holiday, were dressed in the finest French couture that could be slipped past the blockade.
The bride’s mother and sister were healthy and in fine looks, as was their most admired new acquaintance, Captain Roger Wilkins, who kindly paid particular attention to all of the unmarried ladies in attendance, so that none were forgotten.
Also present, the newly commissioned Edward Price and his wife of three months, Mrs. Rose Price, who was blossoming in figure and opinions.
Happy was the occasion when all drank to the couples’ good health and in addition, toasted Midshipman Price who was soon to join his father-in-law on a voyage to Tahiti. (Although, unfortunately, he had lost interest in botany and breadfruit.)
After the wedding breakfast, the bride tossed a bouquet of lavender and daisies from the gardens, and to this day, her pretty new bonnet momentarily removed to smooth down her curls, has not been found.
Not that she was bothered.
---------------
About the Author: Danielle Thorne
Danielle Thorne is the author of Historical and Contemporary romance with such titles as THE PRIVATEER, TURTLE SOUP, and BY HEART AND COMPASS. Other work has appeared with Espresso Fiction, Every Day Fiction, Arts and Prose Magazine, Mississippi Crow, The Nantahala Review, StorySouth, Bookideas, The Mid-West Review, and more. She won an Honorable Mention in Writer’s Digest’s 2006 annual writing competition and the 2008 Awe-Struck Short Novel Contest.
Danielle writes from south of Atlanta, Georgia. She was the 2009-2010 co-chair for the New Voices Competition for young writers, is active with online author groups such as Classic Romance Revival and moderates for The Sweetest Romance Authors at the Coffee Time Romance forum boards. She lives with four sons and her husband, who is an air traffic controller. Together they enjoy travel and the outdoors, High School marching band music competition and BSA Scouting.
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