**************************

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.

"Oh hush, darling! Do not encourage Josephine to think badly of her father-in-law," Lady Cavender reprimanded. "She will spend her life with Mr. Charles Tennyson, not his father."

"I feel like a common beggar. I am talking but no one cares enough to listen. You both forget that we are not married. Nor has he offered," Miss Yorke growled, growing in frustration. "All of it is words and unfulfilled promises."

"I believe someone's corset strings are pulled too tight this morning." The calm voice of Constance breaks the tension of the room. "Good morning all! My timing seems appropriate. May I beg to take Josephine out for the day? I have a bit of a surprise for her."

Constance set down a small brown parcel wrapped with a lavender ribbon beside Josephine's breakfast plate.

"What is this?" Josephine curiously asked.

"A clue."

Josephine quickly unwrapped the gift and looked up at Constance in slight confusion. "Are we painting?" she asked, after pulling several paintbrushes from the box, while an appreciative grin tugged the side of her mouth.

"Perhaps."

Lady Cavender urged, "I think a day of surprise amusement might be just the thing for Josephine!" And before anyone knew what was happening, Lady Cavender threw a handful of cured ham at the front of Josephine's dress and yelled, "Surprise!!"

Three mouths hung open in shock, while Lady Cavender shrugged, "I hate being left out of surprises...and from the looks on all your faces, I have given the largest surprise of the day!"

See?

Lady Cavender.

LOOSE CANNON!

As one piece of ham slid from Josephine's bosom down to her plate, the three gaping mouths turned to roaring laughter. All thoughts of country parties and arranged marriages forgotten in a moment.

These were the moments and people Josephine cherished. People who, despite their quirks or indifference or dramatics, were happy. People that allow adversity to mold them, not defeat them. Constance lost her first love to another. Even with the appearance of Sir Cartwright, Josephine had still held Constance through nights of grief. Lord and Lady Cavender suffered the unspeakable loss of an only child. Mourning all over again at certain memories. And yet, they all smiled through the tears.

Although Josephine loved her family, these were the people she treasured. The ones she didn't need to fix, because they wouldn't allow themselves to be broken.

*************************

"Can I take this silly thing off already?" Josephine protested, as Constance guided her blindfolded friend through the park.

"Do not be a spoilsport! We are almost there. Whoa! Rock!" she called out before jerking Josephine to the left.

"If your idea of a surprise, is two broken ankles, am I too late to decline?"

"I can think of several much easier ways to break your ankles. I would not have gone through all this trouble...Only a few more steps...Alright, you may take it off."

Josephine removed the blindfold, her eyes adjusting to the glimmer of sunlight. Her gaze was first drawn to the picturesque view of the serpentine. The reflection of life around, distorted into ripples, skimming the water's surface. Positioned in the shade, were three easels with canvas eager to be transformed, and a smiling Henry standing beside them.

Josephine had no talent for painting. However, the idea of spending an afternoon with just the three of them...no Lord and Lady Cavender, no Sir Cartwright, no Isabella, and especially no Mr. Charles Tennyson...it felt soothing. Any hint of awkwardness vanished at the sight of Henry's beaming face.  The Whitmore's felt like home. Living proof that blood doesn't make you family.

"What an amazing surprise!" Josephine gushed. "I could not have picked a more pleasant way to spend the afternoon!"

"We have not told you the fun part yet!" said Constance. "We hoped to do a competition of sorts." She eyed her brother with a wide grin and danced her eyebrows.

"Josephine, you are an abominable artist," Henry began, and Josephine gasped in mocked injury. "And since this is your special day, may the worst painting win."

An amused confusion spread across her face, "Are you suggesting, we all paint to the worst of our ability, and the largest disaster wins?"

"Precisely," he confirms.

"In the middle of Hyde Park?"

Constance and Henry simultaneously nod.

"This is perhaps the best day in all of history..."

And the best friends in all of history.

****************************