Josephine's Lists

Chapter 1- Unpleasant news

"There are few things I find more dreadful than love unrequited, and yet at present, I am encircled by it," sighed the restless Miss Josephine Yorke as she walked the well-worn road arm in arm with her younger sister. Both obliged with the dreadful task of delivering unfortunate news to their dearest childhood friend. Walking toward the neighboring estate, Miss Josephine Yorke continued, "Elise, if today is seemingly condemned, we must take care to make the most of tomorrow. I pray you have no jilted suitors of which I am unaware, because I am devoid of time and sense to patch up any further squabbles."

"I would gladly receive a suitor of any sort, jilted likewise. But be overjoyed sister, because your arbitration would be wasted on me," retorted Elise.

"For which I am most grateful! Husbands seem overrated entirely. And too still, you are young. All will happen in due time," Josephine switched topics in her usual style. She always had more thoughts than words could account for. "I was hoping you would accompany me to James Dixon & Sons tomorrow. Mr. Dixon informed me that father's surprise is finished, and I would like to pick it up. Constance promised to go, but after today..." Josephine pulled down the corners of her mouth, shaking her head in frustration. "I am unsure if Constance will keep her initial commitment to escort me."

Elise smiled vaguely, and without reply, continued walking alongside her sister. Josephine was accustomed to shouldering the bulk of conversation among the sisters. As they hurried, hems collecting dust from the rarely parched ground, the Yorke sisters were warmly greeted by a passing Sir Hadley. The sisters paused for the family friend and close companion to their father. Sir Hadley, an older, formal gentleman, who wiped beads of sweat as they slowly trickled down the side of his face and equally as slowly wiped away with the edge of a crisp white handkerchief. Josephine wondered if he had ever owned a handkerchief in any color aside from white. She doubted it. And now longed to purchase him one in blue.

"Miss Josephine and Miss Elise!" Sir Hadley greeted, tipping the brim of his overtly tall hat. "I recently returned from Dover and was on my way to give your cousin, Mr. Morley, my sincerest congratulations. Such wonderful and unexpected news!"

"I am sure it will be much appreciated," replied Josephine in an effort to match his enthusiasm. An enthusiasm she did not share, but hadn't the patience to explain why.  And thus, reluctantly continued, "I hear my cousin is assured and cheerful, therefore we are satisfied by his happiness." Josephine diverted Sir Hadley's thoughtful attentions elsewhere and inquired, "And how was your time in Dover? Refreshing I presume?"

"Not entirely my dear, I will not bore you with the particulars." He hesitated a brief moment before continuing, "Perhaps another time. And are the Yorke sisters well this morning?"

"Very well Sir," Elise said in her commonly soft voice. Conversation with the younger Yorke sister was generally torturous for elderly gentlemen whose sharp hearing had been dulled by years of hunting for sport. But fortunately for Sir Hadley, who preferred fishing, his ears discerned her with perfect clarity.

"Splendid. And you Miss Josephine? How do you get along? I could not hear your laugh or chattering from beyond the road. Very strange indeed, had I not already heard you speak I would have presumed an ailment in your throat," he attempted at humor. Josephine was well-known for her infectious laugh, an unladylike affliction, and she provided many opportunities for people to hear it. She preferred joy over the bounds of propriety. Her father, however, felt differently.

"I am very fine Sir Hadley. You know I derive much pleasure from Elise's company," Josephine squeezed her sister's arm. "Company which she scarcely affords me apart from our home, and fresh air never ceases to invigorate regardless of the heat. I seem to be saving my laughter for dinner this evening." Miss Yorke felt her impatience swelling, not with Sir Hadley, but with her task at hand. "I wish not to be discourteous. And I promise I am eager to hear of your trip, but we are precipitately headed to the Whitmore's. And Constance..."