Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
In the process of prying the tear open a bit further, I suddenly realize there’s something hidden beneath the backing of the painting.
16
I PASSED OUT IN MY CLOTHES LAST NIGHT, MY HAND STILL CLUTCHing the letter we found hidden in the painting. Now it’s morning, and I’m wide awake and dressed, although I still feel a little drunk as I sit at the breakfast bar reading and rereading the sad, short goodbye.
I’m sorry. I cannot marry you, my darling. I love you dearly, but my destiny lies with him. Where he goes, my heart will always follow.
Forgive me.
—Josephine
The envelope it came in is old and yellowed, without a name or anything else to suggest its intended recipient. Not even a date on the letter itself. The epitaph itself sits lonely on the page. I’ve read it dozens of times, and each word is no less gutting with repetition.
I’ve spent weeks imagining the life she must have led. The world spiraling outside her window, ravaged by war, smoldering remnants of a continent emerging from tyranny. What it must have meant to be a young woman when the air raid sirens finally ceased, in a country now left to mourn the dead and rebuild its soul. I can’t even fathom the resilience required. The bravery to endure.
Now I have a name for my mystery woman. Presumably anyway. Except the same questions remain.
Who was Josephine? What was her connection to the Tulley family, and why would they have a portrait painted of her?
And now another mystery presents itself: Who were the loves that pulled at her heart, and who ultimately lost her?
The questions gnaw at my brain all day. I spend hours on Google, each search a variation of the name Josephine and Tulley, each one leading to a dead end. I need better sources, which doesn’t bode well for my resolution to temporarily break up with the Talbot Library. Guess I know what I’ll be doing after class on Monday.
That night, I’m still obsessing over my latest discovery as the group ends up at the pub. Because not enough of us woke up with hangovers.
In the cultural exchange of the past few months, I have to admit I underestimated the commitment of the British to their drinking culture. It’s as if the whole country joined a frat in college and decided to just do that forever until their livers failed them or it gave them superpowers. The superpower being they could drink even more.
“She married the rich one,” Celeste declares from across the table.
“I think that’s it,” Jamie agrees. “You’ve not found a picture or mention of a woman that matches among the nobility of the time, so that seems to suggest she was of common birth. Marrying into the Tulley family was likely a step up.”
As it’s been for a few weeks now, the gang is enthralled with the latest update on the Josephine saga. Tonight, they’re arguing over their theories of Josephine’s letter.
“No, mates.” Lee holds up a hand at Jamie when he dares to protest. “I’m telling you. She was bi. Josephine had a girlfriend. Talk about scandalous for that time, yeah? Why else would the Tulleys get rid of the painting?”
“If she married a Tulley,” Jack says beside me, “why haven’t you found any mention of her?”
Therein lies the rub. That, coupled with her ending up in my dining room, says this wasn’t a happily ever after for anyone.
I chew on my lower lip, thinking it over. “Okay. So the duke and duchess had three sons. All of them would have been the right age at the right time to be the competing love interests. We know for certain that the heir, Lawrence, didn’t marry a Josephine.”
“And so there were two,” Celeste finishes ominously.
I grin at her. “My guess is Josephine found herself in a love triangle with Robert and William and was finally made to choose between them. One brother died. Another disappeared. Compelling circumstances to erase her from the family tree.”
“She killed him.”
We all turn to Yvonne. It’s the first thing she’s said tonight since we sat down. She’s had her head buried in her phone without Nate to entertain her.
Despite my promise to myself, I’d felt a jolt of excitement at the sight of Yvonne approaching us at the door when we arrived.
Followed by bitter disappointment when she said Nate wasn’t coming.
“Killed who?” Lee asks, glancing over at her.
“The one who disappeared,” Yvonne hypothesizes. “She’d already planned it before the one who died asked her to marry him. But that would have ruined her plans to run off with the first one’s fortune, so she turned down the second and he left England with a broken heart, only to perish at sea. Thanks to her, the duke and duchess lost two out of three sons. Hence Josephine never made it to the family history.”