Josephine's Lists

Chapter 9- Bad painting, good friends

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CHAPTER 9

Josephine struggled with sleep the nights following the fire. Between bouts of coughs and frightful memories, she spent the majority of the night twisting about, racked with exhaustion but unable to succumb to sleep. Henry had called upon her the following morning, but Josephine had been too tired, and remained in bed. After briefly visiting with his Aunt and sister, Henry had taken his leave.

Sir Cartwright and Isabella also visited, and  had spent considerable time with Lady Cavender and Constance. Sir Cartwright informed them of what little news he had heard. It seems the fire was extensive but not wholly devastating, and he had heard of four casualties thus far, horrific but much fewer than expected.

A childhood illness had left Josephine more susceptible to ailments in the lungs, but after several days in bed, she was much improved. She tried not to notice her disappointment in Mr. Tennyson's absence, having not seen him since the night of the fire. But, her attempts at avoidance were futile.

She missed him.

A lot.

They had become friends, and a friend would have visited, wouldn't they?

Josephine entered the room, Lord and Lady Cavender dining at the breakfast table, while she filled her plate in response to a ravenous appetite.

"You look much improved!" Lady Cavender praised.

"Thank you, I feel much improved!" Josephine cheerfully agreed.

"There are matters of utmost importance to discuss," Lady Cavender began, as Lord Cavender let out a frustrated sigh, clearly unenthused with whatever his wife meant to speak of.

"Perhaps, we could discuss this after breakfast, my love," he suggested.

"Oh darling, but good news is like cake...the sooner you receive it, the better," Lady Cavender tenderly smiled and winked at her husband.

"You are assuming Miss Yorke will think it good news. I, on the other hand, am not so certain."

Josephine curiously interrupted, "I am now in increased expectation, and doubt I can wait until after breakfast. Having spent a dreary week in bed, I beseech you to enlighten me, good news or not."

"See darling," Lady Cavender boasted. "Josephine, you are certain to be pleased. We have received an invitation to a country party! I know we planned to remain in London a bit longer, but even you will admit several weeks in the country air will do you some good."

"Who extended the invitation?" Josephine asked, to confirm her own suspicion. A trial deliberating within her, one side for Mr. Charles Tennyson and the other adamantly against. The verdict? A hung jury.

"Miss Isabella," Lord Cavender informed, "It came at her father's request. I suppose the wretched man, wishes to meet his future daughter-in-law."

Josephine couldn't be surprised. Tennyson had wanted this. When she agreed to the scheme, he had suggested a stay in their country home. Tennyson had said that his parents would not be satisfied until they had seen them together. Now had come the time to appease them, but her own feelings were beginning to confuse matters. Like tightly closing your eyes and spinning round and round, when they finally open you're surprised by which direction you are facing. And Josephine doesn't want to know the final direction, so she just keeps spinning. But the longer you spin, the more confused you become.

Josephine was surprised at Lord Cavender's unkind opinion of Charles' father. He rarely had strong opinions on anyone. His preference was indifference, which made his dislike even more unsettling. Now, she understood why the invitation to the country could be considered bad news. For Lord Cavender, it was.