"There are few things I find more dreadful than love unrequited, and yet at present, I am encircled by it," sighed the restless Miss Josephine Yorke as she walked the well-worn road arm in arm with her younger sister. Both obliged with the dreadful task of delivering unfortunate news to their dearest childhood friend. Walking toward the neighboring estate, Miss Josephine Yorke continued, "Elise, if today is seemingly condemned, we must take care to make the most of tomorrow. I pray you have no jilted suitors of which I am unaware, because I am devoid of time and sense to patch up any further squabbles."

"I would gladly receive a suitor of any sort, jilted likewise. But be overjoyed sister, because your arbitration would be wasted on me," retorted Elise.

"For which I am most grateful! Husbands seem overrated entirely. And too still, you are young. All will happen in due time," Josephine switched topics in her usual style. She always had more thoughts than words could account for. "I was hoping you would accompany me to James Dixon & Sons tomorrow. Mr. Dixon informed me that father's surprise is finished, and I would like to pick it up. Constance promised to go, but after today..." Josephine pulled down the corners of her mouth, shaking her head in frustration. "I am unsure if Constance will keep her initial commitment to escort me."

Elise smiled vaguely, and without reply, continued walking alongside her sister. Josephine was accustomed to shouldering the bulk of conversation among the sisters. As they hurried, hems collecting dust from the rarely parched ground, the Yorke sisters were warmly greeted by a passing Sir Hadley. The sisters paused for the family friend and close companion to their father. Sir Hadley, an older, formal gentleman, who wiped beads of sweat as they slowly trickled down the side of his face and equally as slowly wiped away with the edge of a crisp white handkerchief. Josephine wondered if he had ever owned a handkerchief in any color aside from white. She doubted it. And now longed to purchase him one in blue.

"Miss Josephine and Miss Elise!" Sir Hadley greeted, tipping the brim of his overtly tall hat. "I recently returned from Dover and was on my way to give your cousin, Mr. Morley, my sincerest congratulations. Such wonderful and unexpected news!"

"I am sure it will be much appreciated," replied Josephine in an effort to match his enthusiasm. An enthusiasm she did not share, but hadn't the patience to explain why.  And thus, reluctantly continued, "I hear my cousin is assured and cheerful, therefore we are satisfied by his happiness." Josephine diverted Sir Hadley's thoughtful attentions elsewhere and inquired, "And how was your time in Dover? Refreshing I presume?"

"Not entirely my dear, I will not bore you with the particulars." He hesitated a brief moment before continuing, "Perhaps another time. And are the Yorke sisters well this morning?"

"Very well Sir," Elise said in her commonly soft voice. Conversation with the younger Yorke sister was generally torturous for elderly gentlemen whose sharp hearing had been dulled by years of hunting for sport. But fortunately for Sir Hadley, who preferred fishing, his ears discerned her with perfect clarity.

"Splendid. And you Miss Josephine? How do you get along? I could not hear your laugh or chattering from beyond the road. Very strange indeed, had I not already heard you speak I would have presumed an ailment in your throat," he attempted at humor. Josephine was well-known for her infectious laugh, an unladylike affliction, and she provided many opportunities for people to hear it. She preferred joy over the bounds of propriety. Her father, however, felt differently.

"I am very fine Sir Hadley. You know I derive much pleasure from Elise's company," Josephine squeezed her sister's arm. "Company which she scarcely affords me apart from our home, and fresh air never ceases to invigorate regardless of the heat. I seem to be saving my laughter for dinner this evening." Miss Yorke felt her impatience swelling, not with Sir Hadley, but with her task at hand. "I wish not to be discourteous. And I promise I am eager to hear of your trip, but we are precipitately headed to the Whitmore's. And Constance..."

"Say no more," he interjected, holding up his gloved hand. "It has not been so long since my own youth. All the time in the world but ever anxious to spend it. I hope your walk to be pleasant and without further interruption. Give the Whitmore's my regards, good day ladies," Sir Hadley finished with another slight tip of his hat, his face ever more flushed as result of the heat.

Josephine became increasingly tormented as she and her sister approached the Whitmore's home. Her fears were made greater not by the news they must deliver, but rather, to whom they must deliver it. Constance, Josephine's closest friend. A girl well known for her "theatrical" nature. Turning unpleasant to catastrophic was an art form Miss Constance Whitmore had mastered. An attribute generally admired by Miss Yorke since it assured constant entertainment, but this occasion was unlike their usual light-hearted interactions. On this occasion, Josephine had to be the bearer of bad news. An agonizing commission for a light-hearted soul.

As the Yorke sisters approached the front steps, steps as familiar as their own, Josephine warned Elise, "Now, we have loyalty to friend as well as family, so we must choose our words skillfully. A wise man listens, whereas a fool is inclined to speak. Obviously, I am in more need of such advice but one cannot be too careful."

"Yes, of course," replied Elise as she looked down and gently shook dust from the toe of her shoe.

The Yorke sisters were led to the drawing room, where pleasantries were ignored and replaced with greetings of a sobbing Miss Constance Whitmore, her golden and customarily impeccable curls disheveled atop her head. Constance's handsome face had been dulled by her distress, pink blotching her porcelain skin.

"Please say you have come to tell me it is not true!" Constance shouted and to no one's astonishment threw herself upon the chaise. In that moment, Josephine felt justified in her imagined anxieties as they quickly became reality. Although she did not have to be the bearer of bad news. It would seem someone had preceded her. Josephine would have to be the bearer of her friend's volatile emotions. She ran over to Constance and in unladylike fashion sat on the floor beside her feet, crumpling her skirts beneath her. Resting both arms on her best friend's lap, Josephine apologetically began, "Oh Constance, you have already heard! I thought I should be the one to tell you. That is why we came calling so early."

"Obviously it was not early enough as Mrs. Osbourne left me nearly an hour ago! Who calls at such an hour?! Cruel, wretched old woman, so dulled by her own affairs, she saw fit to involve herself in mine. I am certain I saw delight in her countenance as she told me of Mr. Morley's engagement," cried Miss Whitmore as tears fell about her faintly rose cheeks.

With unwavering optimism, Josephine replied, "Sweet Constance, there must be no sadness on your part, rather find yourself fortunate to be at last liberated from your foolish heart. A remarkable feat considering how long you have been enslaved to it."

"My foolish heart indeed! How could he not discern my affection for him? And whom is this Miss Mary Pendy? Such a dreary name. And how very suspicious it is only now we are hearing of her, after an engagement." Constance's limbs were jittering with annoyance.

"I know nothing of Miss Pendy, but I believe even the birds of the heavens discerned your regard for my cousin. You were quite...um...apparent," Josephine said with eyes wide as she lowered her chin. Elise let out a faint cough, warning her sister to show some restraint.

Constance lifted her head from upon which it had been resting, only to bestow an indignant stare. She knew it to be true. Miss Constance Whitmore had shamelessly flirted with Mr. John Morley on many an occasion, but he had never once reciprocated. This knowledge only fueled her anger. She had hoped to wear Mr. Morley down with time. It seemed time had run its course and she had lost the race.

Attempting to soothe her friend, Josephine added, "My apologies, that was ill-mannered. I mean only, that you made your intentions clear. John was certainly aware...but know he did not mislead you. My cousin adored your friendship but unfortunately friendship is not always the seed of love. And I am not entirely surprised of our only recent knowledge of Miss Mary Pendy, as secrecy seems to befit my cousin."

"There is so much we do not know...Is she of fortune? What of her family? Does he genuinely care for her or is this an advantageous match? Although, I do not see how this could be a love match. If so, we would have been aware of her before the realization of an engagement! No, I am at a loss. I have no words, not a single word for it. Speechless. This is unimaginable! Egregious!"

"That seems a few more than no words," Josephine said under her breath with her usual lack of self-control. She took hold of Constance's hand. "It is of no matter. It is he that has lost and you that has won. You may now direct your pursuits to a more desirable suitor. As I have expressed before, he was all wrong for you. John is too often irritable, and you had so little in common. You are now open to find a handsome gentleman of title, in want of a wife, anxious to provide her lavish garments, armfuls of children, and most importantly, all the love that one can bear." Constance calmed at the thought and provided her friend with an unwilling smirk. Josephine continued, "In scarcely a week, we will be in London at your gracious Aunt's invitation. And once there, gentlemen will abound. Nothing quells the heart more swiftly than a new prospect, I assure you."

Twirling one of Josephine's curls around her finger, Constance sighed, "I have loved John for as long as I can remember. And you attempt to make ease out of immense suffering, but I do not expect your sympathies nor will I beg for them. With your inexperience comes a lack of understanding. This I can  not fault you for." As her demeanor changed from distraught to resolved, Miss Whitmore continued, "The distraction of London is timely, that I will concede."

Elise, standing in the corner, briefly joined the conversation. "I find true character is often made manifest in despair," and timidly added, "Although, my situation is not similar."

Josephine pointed toward her sister. "You see Constance. Follow her lead. Elise takes pleasure in her woes, woes of which I will not inquire as I am certain she will not say. It seems my sister and cousin equally enjoy secrecy. A characteristic I could not possess even if I desired it...It is all invariably fascinating, the plight of an unwedded female," finished Miss Yorke.

"Josephine, you would not understand a future so unsure. You have as much been matched since infancy," said Constance, attempting to regain her posture while looking down on Josephine still seated at her feet.

"To a man I have never met! A peculiar situation, to be intended to a stranger. I would prefer uncertainty to a husband I did not personally choose. Even so, I will not honor my father's wishes unless I wish it as well."

"I forgot!" Constance interjected, briefly forgetting her own misfortune and wiping any remnants of emotion. "I received a letter from my Aunt Elizabeth. She spoke of your future betrothed."

Josephine's eyes widened as she grew still, anxious to hear the contents of the letter. "What did Lady Cavender say of him?"

"I believe she was introduced to him and his sister in London. I am sure I should just read the letter, otherwise, I might leave something out." Josephine finally removed herself from the floor and sat on the chaise her friend had occupied. Constance walked to the desk and pulled a small post from the drawer.

Leaning against the desk, she began reading aloud it's contents, "'I hope you are well...We are looking forward to yours and Josephine's company'...Oh yes, here it is... 'I had the pleasure of being introduced to Mr. Charles Tennyson and his sister Miss Isabella Tennyson. I took great note, knowing of his connection to our Miss Yorke. Miss Tennyson was quite a charming young girl, very spirited and personable. Her brother was a different sort of fellow. Josephine will undoubtedly be pleased with his appearance and his manners, as he was very handsome. But I am afraid his temperament was quite contrary to his sister. He had a certain arrogance and seriousness about him. Throughout the evening I am certain he did not smile once. But, there is no one more capable of inducing laughter than Josephine. Perhaps they will get along famously'...and then Aunt Elizabeth continued on about our arrival in London," Constance placed the letter back in its envelope, "So there you have it, at least you can be at ease of his appearance. It is so much easier to put up with a bad temperament, when it is hidden behind a handsome face."

However comforting Constance thought her words to be, Josephine felt anything but at ease. She had uncertain intentions with Mr. Charles Tennyson and had no desire to discuss the contents of the letter further. She had endured enough taxing conversation for one day. And joy was easier attained when one pretended their problems simply did not exist. She distracted, "It is of no consequence. Now, what are our plans for London?"

After a lengthy discussion of their upcoming trip, Mr. Morley and his soon-to-be bride, Josephine and Elise parted with Miss Whitmore in much better spirits than which they had arrived. Miss Yorke, however, left feeling worse. Although she frequently denied consenting to an arranged marriage, her internal optimism held out hope that her intended could turn into a love match. And Mr. Charles Tennyson remaining a stranger kept that hope alive. Josephine always preferred fantasy rather than reality.

Drat!

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