Come, Josephine

Chapter 47

1928
Nick
"Where's Josie?"
The maid shook her head, as I expected Jack and Rose would. Her bag was gone from under her bed, and her winter coat was no longer hanging on her bedroom door.
Josephine was gone, and it was my fault.
   As the maid left the kitchen, I heard creaking on the stairs. Rose emerged, smiling as she always did, "good morning, Nick, is it true you're leaving this morning? I imagine your family need you," she saw the look on my face, "good heavens, what is it?"
   "Have you seen Josie?" I asked, trying to hide the wobble in my voice. She shook her head.
   "Do you know where Mr Dawson is?"
   I think he's outside," her eyes scanned me, "Nick, what's going on?"
   "I don't know, I-" my eyes burned furiously, "I really messed up- we got into an argument this morning she was gone- she needed me and I messed up-"
   "Where do you think she's gone?" Her voice was sharp, "Nick, where do you think Josephine is?"
  "I think she's run away."
   "Why on earth would she do that?" Her eyes were wide, frantic.
   "Because Mr Dawson wanted to send me home. He caught me climbing down from Josie's room- I swear, I didn't do anything, she just wanted me to sleep in the warm as it was so cold outside- and then Mr Dawson was furious with us- and he wanted to send me home- and Josie was getting really worked up yesterday. She must have heard me arguing with Mr Dawson or something, because she came downstairs with a bag late last night and wanted to leave with me. We got into this argument, and I told her I didn't care where she went- Mrs Dawson, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for her to leave, and I thought she went back to bed- but this morning he was gone."
"Right," her lips were bloodless, "okay, don't panic, we'll find her."
We both went out onto the porch where Jack sat, facing away from us. She went up beside him, and rested a hand on his shoulder. He raised his head at her touch, "hey, sweetheart, how are you feeling? You're up early..."
He caught sight of me loitering by the door, and stopped mid-sentence. He frowned, and Rose squeezed his shoulder, "Josie's run away."
Her back was to me, but I could see how she hung her head, and the tears that must be falling. Her face had already been deathly pale, and from the way she swayed, I could tell that the colour must have completely gone from her cheeks.
"Shit," he got to his feet, "shit- oh, God, you look pale. Come on, lets get you inside, we'll find her- right, Nick?"
"Yeah," I nodded, "I'm going to talk to Peter and see if he saw her."
He dipped his chin as he helped Rose inside, and I ran down to the stables. As expected, Peter stood in the yard, tending to a saddled horse. He smiled at my approach, and outstretched a hand, "hey, you must be Nick," his face fell, "what is it?"
"Josie's run away, have you seen her?"
"Shit, really?" His frowned darkened, "I haven't- I'll ride out now and see if I can find her- do you know where she might have gone?"
"No, but she's probably on foot."
"Right," he scanned me, "you look like you can ride. Take this horse."
I took the reins in surprise, "Sure, thanks."
He nodded, "the weather's turning, so we be best be quick. Which way are you going?"
"North."
"Right, I'll go South."
I looked over at the house, "tell Mr Dawson where I've gone, he's looking for her too."
He nodded wordlessly, and I turned my attention back to the horse. It was a fine beast and would no doubt be fast.
I mounted the horse quickly and sent it into a gallop. We turned onto the lane with such speed that the horse stumbled, hardly regaining balance on the tight bend. I heard swearing behind me, "be careful!"
I ploughed on. We traveled at a dangerous speed which I would usually pull a horse out of, but I knew Josephine was at the other end of our journey. Where was she?
She had been gone for possible eight hours, maybe three at the least. Walking on foot was easy enough in fair weather, but if a storm broke, it would be a tedious, perhaps exhausting, task. If she was caught in the rain, her health would no doubt take the brunt of her exhaustion. The air, although cool, felt static with the threat of a storm.
I went through one village, and then the next. The horse and I cleared hedges, streams, and fences supposed to deter riders. With every passing moment, the horse grew more and more exhausted. Every time we stopped to ask strangers about Josie, my mount was slower to start again. White foam formed on his neck and mouth, and dusk loomed threateningly near. Finally, the heavens opened and bountiful raindrops fell from the sky.
I realised that my search had been fruitless, and I would need to return home. We turned around, and made our way back to the stables.
Night fell briskly, and by the time I had reached home it was pitch black. The clouds cloaked the moon from sharing any of its like, and I only knew that we were homeward bound by the crunch of gravel under the horses feet. I pulled onto the yard, and saw that Peter had not returned.
I paced the yard, still mounted, and watched the steam rise from the horse's neck. It had done well, I realised, to travel such a distance at that speed. I patted their great shoulder.
Hooves clattered across the yard, "Nick?"
I turned to face him, and in what little light the night spared, I could see Peter riding up on a white horse, something draped across the front of his saddle. As we neared each other, I caught a clear sight of what it was.
Josephine.