Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Josephine had avoided going into the village ever since news of her engagement broke. For obvious reasons, of course. She hadn't wanted to hear any whispers or rumours, and she certainly hadn't wanted to answer any questions that people might have about the news, but necessity dictated her desires moot when it came time to get her wedding dress fitted.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, a warm gold glow encompassing the street as Josephine walked down it, wishing she had taken her mother up and gone earlier in the day so that she could accompany her. But she'd wanted to avoid the rush of midmorning and then procrastinated until she could no longer do so.

By the time she'd finally been ready to leave, her mother was occupied with other matters concerning wedding planning.

Not that Josephine had minded the walk by herself. It had given her time to think. At least between all the congratulations she'd received about the news as she went. She didn't think so many people had ever stopped her in one day.

It was why, as she came abreast of the seamstress' shop, she was unsurprised to hear her name being called out yet again.

She paused just in front of the window, composing herself and pasting a congenial smile as she turned to face the unfamiliar woman bustling over to her.

"Good afternoon," Josephine greeted, pausing to take the woman in as she stopped before her.

She was a handsome enough woman, though her eyes seemed pinched and her smile almost too bright as she folded her hands and looked Josephine up and down rather like a butcher inspecting a cut of meat.

"Good afternoon, Lady Josephine," the woman greeted, her smile tight. "My name is Lady Catherine Brisby …"

The way she said her name made it seem as if it was something of import, but for the life of her, Josephine couldn't think of who the Brisbys were or why it should matter one way or another. She lifted her eyebrows all the same, trying to look impressed enough to avoid offending the strange woman.

"Lady … Brisby?" Josephine checked, trying to ensure that she had titled her correctly.

Lady Brisby nodded, a gleam of satisfaction entering her gaze.

"I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. I was just about to visit the seamstress. Was there something that I could do for you?"

Lady Brisby's eyes narrowed, a look of affront stealing over her features as she straightened.

"Do you know who I am, girl?"

Obviously not.

The rush of having to speak to so many people, coupled with the nerves she had been battling, made it hard for her to swallow such words, but Josephine persevered all the same, her teeth clenching as she kept her polite smile in place.

"I'm afraid that I don't. I'm terribly sorry. I've been rather distracted lately, forgive me. Were you an acquaintance of my mother or ...?"

"I'm Lady Catherine Brisby," the woman repeated, her words clipped.

When comprehension didn't dawn on Josephine's features, she practically bristled.

"His Grace's sister," she snapped.

Josephine felt her stomach drop, her confusion warring with her embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, I thought he was an only child–"

"He is," Lady Brisby muttered, interrupting Josephine with a huff. "His sister-in-law, I might have said, though really the distinction shouldn't have been needed. You ought to have known that I was Martha's sister from the start. You did take it upon yourself to enter into a betrothal with His Grace."

The venom in Lady Brisby's words was unmistakable, Josephine's whole body stiffening at the outright hostility. She took a half step back, tightening her grip on her things as she tried to find a polite way to answer the irritated woman before her.

"My apologies again, Lady Brisby." Though she didn't, at this point, know what she was apologizing for. And she hardly thought that she had ‘taken it upon herself' to enter her betrothal either. "I'm sure I should have known your name. Like I said, I've been rather distracted lately."

"I'm sure." Lady Brisby sniffed. She looked Josephine up and down again, her eyes narrowing further.

"My sympathies for your sister," Josephine continued after an awkward moment of silence. "And … my apologies if our engagement is unsettling for you …"

"Unsettling?" Lady Brisby laughed, the sound a high-pitched bark. "Is that what you'd call it?"

"Well, no," Josephine murmured, "I'm not sure what I would. It is only that you seem to be rather … out of sorts. And I imagined it might have something to do with our announcement given our conversation, but–"

"There is no but behind that," Lady Brisby said primly, pressing her lips in a hard, thin line. "I approached you to inform you how great a disservice you are doing to my dear sister's memory. Something I wasn't certain that you would be aware of but that I thought you needed to be."

"A disservice?" Josephine blinked, her head spinning at the turn the conversation had taken from the congratulations she had first assumed that this would be.

"A disservice," Lady Brisby repeated. "Were you aware that her passing had only been three years past? Surely you can see how that is too soon for the two of you to have met and fallen in love! Why, just imagine the gossip and what they will say after so short a time frame!"

Josephine hadn't considered that. Although thinking about it then, she was almost certain that if any such whispers were going around either her mother or Caroline would have already brought them up.

Maybe it was just in grief over her sister. Clearly, Lady Brisby didn't want Josephine taking her place.

"Lady Brisby, I can assure you, personally, that I only just met His Grace. And I can also assure you that love has no merit in this conversation one way or another. His Grace still loves your sister; no one means to dishonour her. I will do everything in my power to ensure that her memory remains as well." Josephine reached forward, meaning to offer comfort to the distraught woman, but Lady Brisby recoiled as if Josephine were carrying the plague.

"If love has no bearing, then you will not protest ending this farce," Lady Brisby snapped. "Call it off. Tell him you can no longer agree to such a scandalous proposal!"

"It's hardly scandalous," Josephine protested. "But I have no choice in the matter. Surely you understand, Lady Brisby, the marriage is arranged!"

Even if her parents had considered her opinion, it still wasn't a falsehood. Not this far into it, anyhow. While her mother might be amiable to her calling it off at the last minute, her father would surely have something to say, given that it had already been made public.

"Because being the duchess is too good an opportunity for you to pass up." Lady Brisby sniffed derisively. "If it's about money, I'd be happy to pay you, girl."

"It has nothing to do with being the duchess." Even if it did, in part, have something to do with what being the duchess entailed. Josephine was dizzy from the circles they had been talking themselves in, her mind reeling as she tried to regain some kind of grip on the conversation.

"Five thousand pounds," Lady Brisby announced suddenly, her voice shrill. She looked around quickly, her expression becoming more pinched before she stepped in closer. "Five thousand pounds," she repeated. "I will give you five thousand pounds per year if you will break this scandalous engagement with the duke."

Five thousand pounds.

A week before, Josephine would have wept at the offer. It was more than enough for her and her parents to live comfortably.

But Lord Wallburshare's face flashed in her mind as she considered it. His obvious grief whenever his wife was mentioned, the quick wit with which he parried her teasing, and the way his face transformed whenever he offered one of his rare, genuine smiles.

"I could not accept such an offer, Lady Brisby," Josephine said slowly, trying to base her response purely on practicality alone … and knowing that it had nothing at all to do with it in the end.

Damn her own sentiment.

"You could and will," Lady Brisby hissed. "You won't haggle another penny out of me. Five thousand pounds is a good sum. You can go off wherever you want with it, and I'll more than be able to provide as much once I'm ma–" she cut off suddenly, her cheeks blushing a deep, dark crimson and her glare quickly becoming even more pronounced.

"I can't and won't," Josephine answered tartly, her own irritation finally creeping into her tone. There was only so much her sympathy for the woman could stand. "Our engagement is public, Lady Brisby. To call it off now would only shame my family. You talk of imaginary scandals while begging me to willingly enter into an actual one!"

"Listen here," Lady Brisby bit out, taking another step forward until they stood so close that Josephine could feel the ill will radiating like heat waves off of her. "I will not be spoken to like this." She reached forward, her fingers like claws aimed directly at Josephine's arm, but Josephine stepped quickly back.

"I believe we've said all that we need to say to one another," Josephine snapped. She looked down to where Lady Brisby's reaching hand curled into a fist, her eyebrows lifting as she only just kept from asking her what in the world she had been intending. "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you that it is unfounded. And I'd ask that you leave me alone in the future, please, and thank you."

She turned smartly on her heel, walking away before Lady Brisby could stop her indignant gaping.

She didn't want to hear anything that the woman had to say. She didn't want to be insulted any further than she already had been. And she certainly didn't want to test her own patience's limitations any further than she already had.

Lady Brisby was the duke's family, but she was not someone Josephine felt the need to acquaint herself.

As the door to the seamstress' shop shut definitively behind her, Josephine couldn't help chancing a look out of the window to ensure that Lady Brisby wasn't following her.

Seeing her striding angrily in the other direction provided only a modicum of relief, though, her heart still hammering in her chest as she tried to ascertain what on earth had driven the other woman to such measures.