Josephine's Lists

Chapter 11- Loewick arrival

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Loewick House was an impressive sight with the façade donning four broad columns, supporting an extensive balcony. It was impeccably maintained, but lacked warmth and wore a certain severity. That coldness extended to the interior, deficient of cozy comforts, such as fresh arrangements of flowers. Josephine always attended to such details at her own home, and wondered what her father's house would look like, if not for her feminine influence. Obviously, Mrs. Tennyson was not concerned with such things.

"I am Mr. Lampers," the stiff butler greeted. "Several guests have already arrived, and are gathered in the green parlor."

Mr. Lampers led Lord and Lady Cavender to their bedchamber, while a young maid directed Constance and Josephine down an opposite corridor.

"Do you know how many guests are expected?" Josephine queried the maid, as two liveried footman placed their traveling trunks, and Red cuddled by her feet.

"I believe there is to be six-and-thirty, Miss. But some guests can only entertain a short stay. I understand, you are both here for an extended period."

Constance beamed, "Did you hear that Josephine? Six-and-thirty! I doubt we will be wanting for entertainment!"

"Yes, that seems unlikely," Josephine agreed, then addressed the youthful maid. "And may I ask your name?"

"I am Emily, Miss," she shyly replied.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Emily." The maid seemed pleasantly surprised by the introduction. "I am Miss Josephine Yorke and this is my dearest friend, Miss Constance Whitmore." Constance bestowed the maid with a friendly grin and slight nod before Josephine continued, "If you do not mind me saying, you are an adorable girl Emily. And what is your age?"

The maid blushed, "Very kind of you to say, Miss. I am recently sixteen."

The maid's admission reminded Josephine of her younger sister, Elise. Miss Yorke had already been away from home for several weeks and the realization that she would be staying at Loewick House yet another several weeks, awakened a longing to see her sister. Josephine had written Elise on different occasions, each correspondence going unanswered. But, knowing her sister well, she never expected a response. Josephine imagined Elise reading each letter with rapt attention and stowing them away in her drawer of keepsakes.

"You are near my sister's age. This here is Red," Josephine pointed to her sleepy hound. "Could I trust you to help with him during my stay?"

"Certainly Miss Yorke. It would be my privilege," the maid sincerely stated.

"Thank you for your help Emily," Josephine returned. The maid gave a slight curtsy, before leaving them to change out of their traveling dresses.

"Why are you not more excited?" Constance inquired, keenly aware of Josephine's discomfort. "You were quiet the whole journey here, as well. What are you not telling me?"

Ever since Tennyson's adamant rejection of her, Josephine had been aching to confide in Constance. The pressure of her secrecy had finally become too great. She needed advice from the one person who knew her best.

"Where to begin? Much has occurred, all of which is complicated," Josephine started, and paced the floor, admissions flowing out of her like a rushing stream. "You remember how I told you that Tennyson's kindness toward me was derived from guilt...well, I was not entirely truthful."

"Obviously. I always knew Isabella had a hand in matters," Constance confessed. "No man advances from total avoidance to besotted fool in a solitary day. Did she force you and her brother into this...this...I'm actually unsure what you and Tennyson are. Bickering betrothed? Or flirtatious friends, perhaps?"

Josephine shook her head, as if trying to disperse her thoughts. "Neither. And no, you have it all wrong. Isabella has no involvement. Tennyson and I...we...we came to an agreement of sorts, and you can tell no one! Not Sir Cartwright, not Isabella. Promise me?" Josephine pleaded, and her sincerity insured Constance's silence.

"I promise."

Then, Josephine confessed everything to her confidant, ally, and closest companion. Constance listened with rapt attention, as she explained her and Tennyson's arrangement along with the encounters that had followed. The most difficult thing to explain was her budding feelings toward Tennyson. For one, Josephine didn't quite understand them herself. And second, he clearly did not reciprocate them.

"...you understand why you mustn't say anything?"

"Yes, of course! You're father is an intimidating man, but from what Sir Cartwright has told me, Mr. Horace Tennyson is absolutely frightening. And honestly, I feel you were both being reckless by scheming against them," Constance candidly observed. "But...but, I understand why you did it...what I am having difficulty reconciling with, is why Tennyson is still against the marriage. Even though I assumed it was at Isabella's urging, clearly he enjoys your company."

"Clearly not, and I quote, 'There can be no marriage between us. I will not have it'. He...will...not...have...it. I find that a rather precise statement," Josephine dejectedly related. "Imagine that, I actually want to marry my promised betrothed, and he rejects me." She let out a pained laugh, and Constance gave a sympathetic sigh.

"Listen," Constance began, bestowing comforting strokes on Josephine's arm while sitting on the edge of the bed. "I cannot begin to decipher the internal thoughts of a man like Tennyson, but, I know what my own eyes have beheld...he likes you." Josephine began to raise her hand in protest, as Constance grabbed it and squeezed, exclaiming, "He does! I know you both argue, but the only times I have seen him laugh is with you."

"But it does not matter. He does not want me, and he is not a man whom easily changes his mind." Josephine argued. "And now, I have roughly a month to...to...ugh! I cannot even say it. How could I ask that of him? How could I solicit Tennyson's help to find me a husband? Do I want to torture myself? I should not have come here to Loewick. He asked me not to come, but I refused to listen." Josephine threw her body back onto the bed.

Josephine stared up at the ceiling trying to trample her negative notions. The answer was simple and Josephine wasn't one to sulk. Either she helped Tennyson to change or she changed herself. Either help him to want her, or find someone else to want.

Constance was thinking much the same thing. "I will inconspicuously find out what I can from Sir Cartwright, but meanwhile, you must be open to other suitors," she advised. "Do not miss out on spring, longing for summer."

They wanted to discuss it further but needed to join the others. Josephine had delayed as long as she could. Constance understood her trepidation. Josephine was entering blind, only a few weeks ago, her life had been planned out from infancy. But, nothing ever happens as planned. She now had a short time to find her forever, and it terrified her.

What would happen if she couldn't find someone else? Josephine surmised the outcome, the original alliance would stand. And the thought of Tennyson marrying her against his will, felt worse than his recent rejection. Josephine would do whatever it took to not let that happen.

"Come," Constance encouraged, encircling Josephine's arm. "Let us see what this green parlor has in store for us."

Josephine sucked in a deep, preparing breath, "If we must..."

Constance attempted to lift her spirits, giving future hope, "Perhaps, Lord Grimsby will be here! He was agreeable, was he not?"

Josephine thought back to the evening of the fire, and the kindness he had shown by lending his carriage.

"Yes, he was very agreeable," she said, eyeing Constance, as they descended the steps. "I know what you are thinking, and I promise to be open to other possibilities."

Always one for drama, Constance delighted, "One thing is certain, the next few weeks shall find no boredom."

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