Chapter 5
Aunt Caroline
Aunt Caroline Houston is the most eccentric, prompt, and blunt person Jocelyn had ever met. Aunt Caro was also her favorite person in the world, other than her father, Lacy, and Mandy.
This afternoon, when Jocelyn's door was quietly opened instead of flung up like it usually is when Aunt Caroline stops by for a visit, Jocelyn didn't know who to expect at first. But in came Aunt Caroline, wearing a huge seventeen-hundreds era dress and hat made of gorgeous blue material with small flowers printed on it, face wreathed in a worried, but huge, smile.
Aunt Caro was a petite person, but not in height, much like her brother. She was five ten, quite rare for the times, but very skinny. She was also exquisite. She had blonde curling hair, gorgeous skin that Jocelyn knew she had to have gotten it from her, and big, big blue eyes. She was loud, boisterous, and just a tad crazy after having married an extremely rich, extremely annoying ninety year old Englishman named Sir Theodore Manning Floyd Houston, who died a mere year after there wedding.
No surprise there.
Jocelyn rolled over to greet Aunt Caroline. Her face was puffy, her eyes slightly swollen, and she was rather nauseous, but the pain in her head had lessened to a dull throb. "Aunt Caro," she croaked out before trying to smile and cleared her throat. "Sorry. I think I may have caught a late bug."
"Oh, you poor darling," Aunt Caroline said, kneeling beside the huge four poster and rubbing a hand over Jocelyn's cheek with a lace-glove garbed hand. "You're all sweaty." She felt Jocelyn's forehead, checked her face. "I hope you haven't gotten consumption, that would be terrible."
That was what Aunt Caroline's husband had died of. Jocelyn remembered when she had seen him a few months after he'd gotten sick. He'd coughed up amounts of blood into handkerchiefs that he always threw into a basket in the back of the kitchen when she needed a new one.
She remembered some of them had been soaked with blood.
Shivering, Jocelyn eyed her Aunt warily. "Mon Dieu, I would certainly hope not. I don't think so. I think it's just claustrophobia and homesickness, Aunt Caro."
"Well, I'll have your things packed and," she looked at the drawn curtains, "the curtains in the carriage closed so there's no sunlight to hurt your head, all right love?"
Jocelyn nodded, then gripped her pillow and pushed her face into it.
An hour later, Jocelyn was awoken by Lacy. "Everything is packed and they're ready to take us home." Lacy was smiling. Jocelyn knew Lacy must also be excited about going home. She hated the country almost as much as Jocelyn did sometimes.
Jocelyn held a hand out and Lacy and Aunt Caro came to help her up on wobbly legs. "Oh dear, you must be feel absolutely terrible!" Aunt Caroline was saying.
Jocelyn was absolutely grateful her Aunt lived in Paris also and was able to get her out of there quickly. "I'm all right, I'm okay." She said, reaching out for her silk negligee she had bought on her last trip to London. She tied it around her waist and then slipped her shoes on before going downstairs, coughing into a hankie that Aunt Caro handed to her.
She met her father at the end of the stairs, who looked upon her sadly. "I'm sorry I can't join you dear. You know how business goes. But I shall join you as soon I can, I promise." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then turned to his sister and kissed both of her cheeks. "Dear sister. Thank you for taking her to the country. I hope this isn't distressing to you."
"No, no, Henry, don't worry about it. I've been getting tired of the city also so, this should be a breath of fresh air." She kissed her brother's cheek. "We shall see you in a few weeks." She gripped Jocelyn's arm lightly, Lacy on the other side, and they helped her outside and quickly into the carriage, where she collapsed, sweating and shivering.
Her sickness was getting worse and she had no idea why.
But then an idea struck her, and she knew she had to have it with her. "Lacy," she breathed and Lacy began to get in. "Lacy, please, go back up to my room and get the script. The script... it's... it's hidden under the cushions of the bay window. Please hurry and get it for me."
"Yes, Jocelyn." Lacy hurried off as a footman helped Aunt Caro into the darkened chamber of the carriage. "Script, dear? What script?"
"The Moulin Rouge. I ran into a man and... and our scripts, they got switched. I need to read his again. I need to figure something out." She laid her head back against the deep, purple velvet cushions of the seat. "I need to figure it out," she murmured, drifting back to sleep.
"Oh..." Caroline grabbed a blanket that was concealed from view by being hidden under the bench in a small compartment. She wrapped it around her niece's lap and tucked her in as Jocelyn murmured something, then gripped the blanket. Caroline felt like crying, these symptoms were so familiar, yet... she had a feeling that Jocelyn would be okay. But it worried her nonetheless. Jocelyn seemed to be rather delusional.
Caroline shrugged off the feeling and sat back on her seat and waited for Lacy to return. When she did, the footman closed to door, and Caroline opened the curtain that covered the window of the door just a tad. "What is that, Lacy dear?"
"It's a script that Jocelyn asked me to get, m'am."
"Call me Caroline, dear," She said, trying to be quiet. "A script? She was murmuring about it earlier. What's it called?"
Lacy looked down. "'The Moulin Rouge.'"
"Sounds scandalous," Caroline joked in that odd way of hers. "I wonder what it's about."
"Jocelyn told me," Lacy said. "Last night. She was up until one reading it."
"Oh, do tell, dear."
So Lacy explained, and at the end Caroline sat almost on the brink of tears. "Oh, Christ, is that depressing. How terribly tragic, yet so romantic." Caroline blinked and shook her head, folding her hands in her lap. "She must love it to have remembered to ask you to bring it so suddenly," Caroline said after a moments pause.
"Yes, she seemed quite excited about it last night, Madame Caroline."
Caroline smiled at the way Lacy pronounced her name Karo-leene. She liked it. "I will have to ask her about it when she is better. She said she ran into a man in the hallway and her script got exchanged with his. What script?"
Lacy looked away, "I would tell you but... but I am... what's the phrase? Juré au secret... Sworn to secrecy, oui."
"Oh. But, oh yes, I get it. She wants to be a writer."
"Oui, Madame." Lacy nodded.
"I knew it. She always was brilliant," Caroline said, pulling out a fan painted with oriental flowers and began to fan herself as she looked over at Jocelyn. "She's incredibly brilliant. Let's just hope she can find a man who can handle her," Caroline said with a wink as she looked back at Lacy.
Caroline knew a side of Jocelyn that no one else knew. When she was visiting, she would sometimes go stark raving mad. Especially when she had an idea. She would babble and pace and write like someone who had fever of the brain. She would then rant and rave about how the world wasn't fair, before promptly locking herself in her room for hours and then coming out the next morning, or that night, and act as though nothing had happened.
Caroline loved her niece as though she were her own daughter. She loved her spunkiness, and all she could hope for was that Jocelyn would make it in this world run by egotistical men who thought they knew everything, in this world where women had no right of their own, because they were meek, pathetic little creatures with no minds.
Caroline gave a smug smile at that thought and slid a look over to Jocelyn.
Jocelyn could prove the world wrong. And all Caroline had to do was sit back and watch the progress in action.
**
Aunt Caroline
Aunt Caroline Houston is the most eccentric, prompt, and blunt person Jocelyn had ever met. Aunt Caro was also her favorite person in the world, other than her father, Lacy, and Mandy.
This afternoon, when Jocelyn's door was quietly opened instead of flung up like it usually is when Aunt Caroline stops by for a visit, Jocelyn didn't know who to expect at first. But in came Aunt Caroline, wearing a huge seventeen-hundreds era dress and hat made of gorgeous blue material with small flowers printed on it, face wreathed in a worried, but huge, smile.
Aunt Caro was a petite person, but not in height, much like her brother. She was five ten, quite rare for the times, but very skinny. She was also exquisite. She had blonde curling hair, gorgeous skin that Jocelyn knew she had to have gotten it from her, and big, big blue eyes. She was loud, boisterous, and just a tad crazy after having married an extremely rich, extremely annoying ninety year old Englishman named Sir Theodore Manning Floyd Houston, who died a mere year after there wedding.
No surprise there.
Jocelyn rolled over to greet Aunt Caroline. Her face was puffy, her eyes slightly swollen, and she was rather nauseous, but the pain in her head had lessened to a dull throb. "Aunt Caro," she croaked out before trying to smile and cleared her throat. "Sorry. I think I may have caught a late bug."
"Oh, you poor darling," Aunt Caroline said, kneeling beside the huge four poster and rubbing a hand over Jocelyn's cheek with a lace-glove garbed hand. "You're all sweaty." She felt Jocelyn's forehead, checked her face. "I hope you haven't gotten consumption, that would be terrible."
That was what Aunt Caroline's husband had died of. Jocelyn remembered when she had seen him a few months after he'd gotten sick. He'd coughed up amounts of blood into handkerchiefs that he always threw into a basket in the back of the kitchen when she needed a new one.
She remembered some of them had been soaked with blood.
Shivering, Jocelyn eyed her Aunt warily. "Mon Dieu, I would certainly hope not. I don't think so. I think it's just claustrophobia and homesickness, Aunt Caro."
"Well, I'll have your things packed and," she looked at the drawn curtains, "the curtains in the carriage closed so there's no sunlight to hurt your head, all right love?"
Jocelyn nodded, then gripped her pillow and pushed her face into it.
An hour later, Jocelyn was awoken by Lacy. "Everything is packed and they're ready to take us home." Lacy was smiling. Jocelyn knew Lacy must also be excited about going home. She hated the country almost as much as Jocelyn did sometimes.
Jocelyn held a hand out and Lacy and Aunt Caro came to help her up on wobbly legs. "Oh dear, you must be feel absolutely terrible!" Aunt Caroline was saying.
Jocelyn was absolutely grateful her Aunt lived in Paris also and was able to get her out of there quickly. "I'm all right, I'm okay." She said, reaching out for her silk negligee she had bought on her last trip to London. She tied it around her waist and then slipped her shoes on before going downstairs, coughing into a hankie that Aunt Caro handed to her.
She met her father at the end of the stairs, who looked upon her sadly. "I'm sorry I can't join you dear. You know how business goes. But I shall join you as soon I can, I promise." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then turned to his sister and kissed both of her cheeks. "Dear sister. Thank you for taking her to the country. I hope this isn't distressing to you."
"No, no, Henry, don't worry about it. I've been getting tired of the city also so, this should be a breath of fresh air." She kissed her brother's cheek. "We shall see you in a few weeks." She gripped Jocelyn's arm lightly, Lacy on the other side, and they helped her outside and quickly into the carriage, where she collapsed, sweating and shivering.
Her sickness was getting worse and she had no idea why.
But then an idea struck her, and she knew she had to have it with her. "Lacy," she breathed and Lacy began to get in. "Lacy, please, go back up to my room and get the script. The script... it's... it's hidden under the cushions of the bay window. Please hurry and get it for me."
"Yes, Jocelyn." Lacy hurried off as a footman helped Aunt Caro into the darkened chamber of the carriage. "Script, dear? What script?"
"The Moulin Rouge. I ran into a man and... and our scripts, they got switched. I need to read his again. I need to figure something out." She laid her head back against the deep, purple velvet cushions of the seat. "I need to figure it out," she murmured, drifting back to sleep.
"Oh..." Caroline grabbed a blanket that was concealed from view by being hidden under the bench in a small compartment. She wrapped it around her niece's lap and tucked her in as Jocelyn murmured something, then gripped the blanket. Caroline felt like crying, these symptoms were so familiar, yet... she had a feeling that Jocelyn would be okay. But it worried her nonetheless. Jocelyn seemed to be rather delusional.
Caroline shrugged off the feeling and sat back on her seat and waited for Lacy to return. When she did, the footman closed to door, and Caroline opened the curtain that covered the window of the door just a tad. "What is that, Lacy dear?"
"It's a script that Jocelyn asked me to get, m'am."
"Call me Caroline, dear," She said, trying to be quiet. "A script? She was murmuring about it earlier. What's it called?"
Lacy looked down. "'The Moulin Rouge.'"
"Sounds scandalous," Caroline joked in that odd way of hers. "I wonder what it's about."
"Jocelyn told me," Lacy said. "Last night. She was up until one reading it."
"Oh, do tell, dear."
So Lacy explained, and at the end Caroline sat almost on the brink of tears. "Oh, Christ, is that depressing. How terribly tragic, yet so romantic." Caroline blinked and shook her head, folding her hands in her lap. "She must love it to have remembered to ask you to bring it so suddenly," Caroline said after a moments pause.
"Yes, she seemed quite excited about it last night, Madame Caroline."
Caroline smiled at the way Lacy pronounced her name Karo-leene. She liked it. "I will have to ask her about it when she is better. She said she ran into a man in the hallway and her script got exchanged with his. What script?"
Lacy looked away, "I would tell you but... but I am... what's the phrase? Juré au secret... Sworn to secrecy, oui."
"Oh. But, oh yes, I get it. She wants to be a writer."
"Oui, Madame." Lacy nodded.
"I knew it. She always was brilliant," Caroline said, pulling out a fan painted with oriental flowers and began to fan herself as she looked over at Jocelyn. "She's incredibly brilliant. Let's just hope she can find a man who can handle her," Caroline said with a wink as she looked back at Lacy.
Caroline knew a side of Jocelyn that no one else knew. When she was visiting, she would sometimes go stark raving mad. Especially when she had an idea. She would babble and pace and write like someone who had fever of the brain. She would then rant and rave about how the world wasn't fair, before promptly locking herself in her room for hours and then coming out the next morning, or that night, and act as though nothing had happened.
Caroline loved her niece as though she were her own daughter. She loved her spunkiness, and all she could hope for was that Jocelyn would make it in this world run by egotistical men who thought they knew everything, in this world where women had no right of their own, because they were meek, pathetic little creatures with no minds.
Caroline gave a smug smile at that thought and slid a look over to Jocelyn.
Jocelyn could prove the world wrong. And all Caroline had to do was sit back and watch the progress in action.
**