Josephine's Lists

Chapter 26- Home Sweet Home

Tick, tock
Tick, tock
Tick, tock

The rhythmic strikes of a grandfather clock drew Josephine from an afternoon slumber. Familiar scents drifted in through the library window on the back of a fall breeze. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, Josephine gradually righted herself on the tufted chair while accidentally closing the book she'd been reading. Drat! She'd have to find her place yet again.

Josephine hadn't enjoyed a full night's sleep since returning to her ancestral home. The exhaustion found her imbibing on brief lapses into unconsciousness. Twice Constance had scolded Josephine for the dark rims beneath her eyes, urging a medicinal sleep remedy. And, twice Josephine had lied, blaming a headache for her listless appearance. It didn't help that her father had been out of town since before Josephine's return. She refused to burden Elise with her troubles, and couldn't burden her father until he came home. And Mr. Yorke's return was anybody's guess.

The sound of low giggles carried into the library. Likely that of her sister and Miss Mary Pendy, soon to be Mrs. Mary Morley. Elise had become inseparable with their cousin John's fiancé. The pair never seemed to tire of one another, whereas Josephine managed to tire of everything and everyone as of late. Josephine recognized the irony of her sister's newfound happiness against her newfound misery.

Two soft raps sounded on the library door. Josephine was flipping pages, looking for where she'd stopped.

"Come in."

She looked up as the door slowly creaked open.

"Would you mind some company?" Henry poked his head around the four-paneled door, cautiously eyeing Josephine.

"Come in if you wish it, but be warned. I am not pleasant company." Josephine spoke with all indifference. It could have been the Prince Regent knocking and yet her mood would remain unchanged.

Henry swung the door open wide, accepting her reluctant invitation. Josephine's rancor was no fault of his, thus he wouldn't be deterred. "Your sister told me where to find you. Said you were sleeping in the library. I hope I have not intruded upon your slumber."

She appreciated Henry's concern, but wasn't up for polite conversation. Everything in her life was falling apart and Josephine would rather not have an audience for it.

"No, I was already awake. I am afraid the only activity you have interrupted is that of me wallowing in gloom." She slammed the book closed, abandoning her search. Frustration is like a stone thrown to the pond. The initial splash is large but the ripples continue into places the stone never even touched. It wasn't her book. It wasn't Henry. But she couldn't prevent the ripples of frustration from flowing through to them. "Do you need something Henry? If not, please allow me to suffer in solitude. Constance and my sister have been astounding in that regard. You should learn from their example."

Henry wasn't as easy to intimidate, stalking right over to her. "Are you still sulking over Mr. Tennyson's letter? That was weeks ago!"

She was furious he would even mention the letter. Wasn't it enough that she obsessed over Tennyson's indifferent dismissal from morning until night. Josephine didn't need Henry recounting fresh wounds. She did plenty of that on her own. Josephine could recite Tennyson's letter from memory, with as many times as she had read the cursed thing.

"Josephine, you must see reason. What sort of man professes such feelings, only to recant them a short time later? And after the horrific incident in his home! He is no gentleman. The very unfeeling nature of such a thing!"

Henry was nearly as confused as Josephine when it came to Tennyson's dramatic reversal. He had sensed genuine affection on the part of Mr. Tennyson. He wasn't sure what prompted Tennyson to write the letter, but Henry couldn't imagine a sufficient reason. He was angry on Josephine's behalf. Even with Tennyson out of the picture, Henry held no disillusioned thoughts of him and her riding off into the sunset. But that wouldn't prevent him from helping a close friend. A friend badly in need of saving, saving from herself.