Josephine had successfully avoided Tennyson all day. She was grateful, having no desire to be reminded of what she could not have. Why gaze in the shop window when you haven't a farthing to your name?

Josephine found distraction in one of Loewick's many sitting rooms by painting designs onto stark-white vases alongside an elated Lady Cavender, who was still beaming from her niece's engagement. Two busy-body widows had chosen to join the activity in addition to Isabella.

Isabella was painting beautiful green vines twisting and turning about the white backdrop. Josephine had settled on attempting simple rosebuds, and she silently applauded her own painting efforts. Josephine startled a bit when she looked to the vase Lady Cavender was near to completing. Lady Cavender had begun with a tranquil hillside scene, and Josephine had readily complimented her on the progress. But now, Lady Cavender had added two men brandishing swords with one man struck clean through!

Josephine chuckled, whispering low, "Only you would think to ruin such a peaceful looking piece of artwork."

"You have yet to see the best part!" Lady Cavender grinned conspiratorially.

"I am terrified to ask..." Josephine replied.

Isabella was privy to their hushed conversation and she wasn't sure whether to faint or laugh at Lady Cavenders gruesome artwork. But at Lady Cavender's next words, Isabella could no longer control herself.

Lady Cavender pointed to one of the gossiping old women painting across the room. "I plan to sign Mrs. Blithers name to it."

Isabella and Josephine burst into laughter, but quickly reigned in as Mrs. Blithers and the other women glared at them from across the room.

"Now that my Constance is set to be married, I must concentrate my efforts on you dear child," Lady Cavender redirected the conversation.

Josephine squirmed in her seat. This was the last subject she wished to discuss and particularly not in front of Isabella. Josephine knew that Tennyson and his sister were close, but she couldn't begin to guess how much Isabella already knew. Perhaps Tennyson had confided in his sister as Josephine had with Constance, though she doubted it.

"I doubt she needs your assistance Lady Cavender," Isabella gushed, looking up from painting her vase. "I believe my brother is quite smitten with our Josephine."

She couldn't stop the sick drop in her stomach. How wrong Isabella was! Tennyson was obviously not confiding in his sister. But what could Josephine say? She wanted to scream, "If that were only so!" but both of their fathers still pushed for an alliance, an alliance that would never come to fruition.

Josephine had slept little the night before because of wavering on what to do next. But, she had made up her mind, Josephine would rather face the wrath of her father than to hastily attach herself to another gentleman. Putting all thoughts of marriage away, Josephine vowed that unless she found love greater than Tennyson, she would happily die a spinster.

"Your brother and I are merely friends, nothing more," Josephine assured Isabella, those words bringing her guilt.

Are we even friends?

"If you and Tennyson are simply friends then I am the Prince Regent," Lady Cavender sarcastically quipped.

Josephine rolled her eyes, expertly masking the threat of tears. For the first time in her life, she had needed to force herself from bed this morning. Tennyson had broken her, and she needed to mend. Josephine knew discussing him would only keep the wounds fresh. Avoidance was her armor.

"Charles has said nothing to me," Isabella began. "But, I know my brother from head to foot and many times I have witnessed the pair of you. If my brother is not already in love with you, then I will relinquish my dowry!"

Isabella's words not only kept Josephine's wounds fresh, but they managed to open up new ones. She knew Isabella's intentions were good, but Josephine could hear no more of it.

Josephine abruptly stood, "Please, excuse me ladies. I am in need of some fresh air."

"Forgive me, did I say something wrong?" An astute Isabella had grabbed Josephine's wrist to halt her departure, but Lady Cavender's expression indicated that Isabella should allow Josephine to leave. She reluctantly released her wrist, while guilt flooded Isabella.

In desperate need of solitude, Josephine headed outside toward the gardens but upon seeing a group of houseguests gathered, she quickly turned the opposite direction. Josephine leaned against the sturdy trunk of an oak, squeezing her eyes and fists tightly closed.

Breathe, forget Tennyson, breathe. Think better thoughts: kittens, spring flowers, Tennyson, ugh! Children's laughter, dancing, waltzing with Tennyson, ugh! Stupid, stupid thoughts...

"I have never seen your beautiful face look so glum," the familiar voice cut through her silent scolding, startling her eyes open.

"I...I..." she stammered before finally allowing the tears to generously fall.

"What is this," Henry soothed, quickly striding to Josephine's side, gripping her shoulders. "Does my sister know you are out here? And upset, no less?"

She shook her head, "No, no. And I do not want her to know. Constance deserves to revel in the excitement of her engagement, and I will not spoil it for her."

"Well, if you must cry, I prefer it to be upon my shoulder," he smiled, and they both settled between two large roots which were half-immersed in the ground. "Am I intrusive if I inquire what has brought the perpetually happy Miss Josephine Yorke to tears?"

She dabbed each cheek attempting to wipe the excess moisture with the back of her hand. "I am equally as surprised as you. I have cried so little in my life, I was starting to wonder if I was the broken one. As it so happens, I am just as human as the rest, and it is a dreadful feeling." Josephine gave Henry a sad smirk, and he returned it with a comforting one.

"Where you see weakness, I see strength," he consoled. "Sometimes allowing yourself to feel is braver than restraint. And you Josephine are very brave. Now tell me, whom must I assault for bringing you to tears?"

"Will you swear to secrecy?" she urged.

"I will take it to my grave."

Josephine was unsure of whether to tell him. She had strong suspicions of Henry's own romantic feelings towards her which she subsequently did not reciprocate. But the selfish need for a familiar and understanding confidant outweighed her concern.

Josephine's tears had slowed, but re-emerged as she began her confession. She told Henry everything, from the fabricated friendship with Tennyson to her growing affection and his eventual rejection, not once but twice! Henry had remained silent through her entire recollection with the exception of a few grunts and sighs.

"...And now, I feel silly and naive. But mostly I feel sad. Can you mourn over something you never truly had?" she asked him with all sincerity.

Henry cleared his throat, the situation all too familiar, "Some of the greatest loves of our lives can be loves not returned. But why ask if  you can mourn over something you never truly had? Your love exists Josephine, whether or not it is reciprocated. It is as real as you or I, so how can you classify it as something you never truly had? You may not have had him but you did have love. So certainly you can mourn the loss of what you felt. It is a rare thing to find someone capable of breaking your heart."

She knew that speech was just as much about her as it was for her, but Josephine felt grateful for every word. Henry was a beautiful person inside and out, and if she had not harbored such brotherly affection for him things might have been different between them.

"I wish it were different...I wish I were different," Josephine admitted, looking down at both fists balled in her lap.

"Josephine, I will not say what I think we both already know," Henry began, nervously wringing his hands. "But I will say this...to me, you are as close to perfection as one can possibly be. And if Tennyson does not see that then he does not deserve you. You deserve the world Josephine and never settle for less."

She was smiling through the tears, and hugged him tightly. "Thank you Henry. And I may not be able to give you all that you wish of me, but know you have my love and devotion as if you were my own flesh and blood."

Henry relished in the bitter-sweetness of her embrace.

"I made a new list last night...after...after him," she informed, swiping the remaining tears and breaking their embrace.

"Not another one of your ridiculous lists," Henry teased. In reality, he loved them. "Let us have a look," he said, holding his palm out for retrieval.

Josephine sheepishly pulled a folded sheet of paper and a small pencil from the sleeve of her dress.

"Remind me never to bet against you in cards. I had no notion you were hiding items up your sleeves," he joked.

She smiled, handing him the small paper, "Last night I accepted my newfound spinsterhood. So, I began a list of things I hope to accomplish before I have occasion to marry...it is silly I know, but it took my mind off of Tennyson and gave me something new to focus upon."

Henry unfolded the paper and began to scrutinize each item while Josephine nervously looked on.

   1. Conquer my fear of roosters.
   2. Take Elise to a concert in London.
   3. Compose my own piece for pianoforte.
   4. Force Father to visit Mother's grave.
   5. Find a love which surpasses Tennyson.

Henry looked back up after reading the short list. Then, he began offering his opinion on each. "I will gladly help you conquer your fear of roosters. That will be easy. Getting your sister to go to London will be difficult but with a little ingenuity it can be done...Considering I have the musical talent of a potato, you will need to accomplish number three on your own."

She giggled at the comparison, fully aware of Henry's musical deficiency.

"Hmm...four is perhaps the easiest. I know for a certainty that your father will go with you. All you need is to ask it of him. Now, as for number five..." Henry took in a deep breath, instructing, "Give yourself time. Promise me you will not rush to fill the empty hole he has bore into your heart. Temporary repairs often induce more damage. And I prefer you to be whole and unharmed."

Henry's warm smile and kind heart made Josephine swell with appreciation.

"I promise."

"All will be well," he assured her.

Josephine stood up from her tree-root seat and began to pace. "How do you suppose my father will react when I tell him there is no engagement and there will be no marriage? The mere thought of telling him terrifies me."

"I will not prevaricate. I doubt he will be pleased, but do not despair. Despite his harshness, your father loves you dearly. In time, all will come about. He only wants what every father of two daughters desires, for them to be happy and live comfortably. Tennyson is not the last wealthy fellow about. And arranged marriages are so very barbaric. They can hardly be surprised when it does not come to pass."

"Perhaps you are right," Josephine conceded.

"I am always right!" Henry echoed. "But, you should tell my sister all that happened."

She began to protest but Henry interjected. "Constance would tell you if the situations were turned about. Although, I doubt you will keep it from her for very long. You cannot keep a secret to spare your life."

"But I..!"

"Never mind you. Let us begin!" Henry shouted in triumph, jumping to his feet.

She stared at him, bewildered. He continued to look at her expectantly, finally explaining, "Your list silly girl! Come, let us go in search of some scary feathered friends!"

Josephine groaned and reluctantly took Henry's proffered arm.

ROOSTERS...Double drat!

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Finally!! Another chapter! Need to spend more time writing and less time reading...
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