Josephine's Lists

Chapter 12- Full House

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When the butler, Mr. Lampers, announced them into the green parlor, a multitude of heads swiveled in their direction.

Josephine's first glimpse was two familiar faces, and one foreign one, standing to welcome them.

"Miss Yorke, Miss Whitmore," Tennyson began, directing his attention to the somber lady beside him. "May I introduce my mother, Mrs. Tennyson."

Mrs. Tennyson's humorless demeanor solidified Josephine's discomfort.

Constance and Josephine greeted her in unison, giving their most amicable smiles.

"The resemblance to your mother is quite striking," Mrs. Tennyson observed, carefully scrutinizing Josephine's appearance. Josephine almost forgot Mrs. Tennyson had been a close friend of her mother's. Isabella stood behind her mother and brother bestowing the most welcoming of smiles.

Mrs. Tennyson turned to her son, "Charles, do introduce them around. I feel inclined to sit."

Josephine and Constance gave no indication of annoyance with Mrs. Tennyson's abruptness. Rather, they felt relieved upon her dismissal and warmly greeted Isabella.

After many introductions while sweeping the room, Josephine found herself settled in conversation with Tennyson and Lord Grimsby.

"Tennyson tells me you are in possession of a rather unique hound," Lord Grimsby expressed, grasping Tennyson's shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. Charles leaned back and prepared himself for the incumbent defense of Red.

"You may speak any number of harsh words against me," Miss Yorke playfully instructed. "But, I will not tolerate the decimation of my dog's character. His kindness could rival your own, Lord Grimsby."

Charles hid his amusement, as Lord Grimsby responded, "I shall take that to heart, Miss Yorke. But personally, I find the word 'unique' to be a splendid compliment. What merit is there in being ordinary?"

"I believe the majority of the ton might disagree with you," Josephine remarked, while glancing around the guest-filled room. "Conformity is esteemed inside London ballrooms, whereas, eccentricity...well, they would rather reserve that for performers and artists."

"She has got you there, Grimsby," Tennyson chimed in, giving Josephine a slight smirk.

"I dare not disagree, nor would I need to," Grimsby joyfully remarked. "But personally, I admire the unexpected. A bird who refuses to fly, a hound who will not hunt, the world's least social man entertaining an enormous amount of guests." Grimsby gave Tennyson a knowing glance, and he returned it with a tight lipped glare. "My Uncle Ambrose would always tell me 'no need to follow the other cows, they will most likely lead you to slaughter.'"

Tennyson began to protest, "Please do not start with your tales from Uncle Ambrose. I have not consumed near enough port to stomach them."

Josephine smiled with peaked curiosity. "Do not listen to Tennyson. Some of us would relish additional stories from your Uncle Ambrose."

"Are you content with me dying of boredom, Miss Yorke?" Tennyson teasingly inquired, as he fiddled with his small gold watch.

"Of course not. If you are to perish, I prefer it to be from my own bare hands," Josephine quipped.

"Yes, because that would be entirely plausible," Tennyson dryly commented.

Lord Grimsby was enjoying their back and forth, delighting at Tennyson's relaxed joy when speaking with Miss Yorke. Even in the company of Sir Cartwright or Isabella, Grimsby had never seen him appear so at ease. The thought of Tennyson willingly giving her up in order to defy his father was disconcerting.