Josephine decided to stay in the ballroom. If Edward wanted to speak or dance with her, it would not be difficult for him to find her. She noticed that the nabob’s nephew Robert had also disappeared. She didn’t miss either him or the way he hovered around Phyllis. His uncle seemed to be a much nicer older man. A pity he didn’t seem interested in Mama.

            The ball continued till nearly dawn. Jo began to worry. It wasn’t like Mr. Dominic to ignore her entirely at such affairs. Suddenly all the festivities were brought to a halt by the sound of a gunshot immediately outside. Everyone rushed to the garden to discover what, if anything, had happened. A few thoughtful people borrowed lights from the wall sconces.

            Her beloved lay on the ground bleeding, while Robert stood nearby with smoke still wafting from his pistol. Jo knelt by Edward’s head and cradled him in her arms for the last moments of his life.

            She looked up after he was gone. No one had moved, not even the horrible young man. Jo quietly checked Edward’s pistol. It was still loaded. No doubt Robert had shot before the count was over, as she knew how fast Mr. Dominic could move while still alive. Josephine grasped the weapon in her hand, rose to her feet, and shot Robert, who fell dead.

            The scandal was notorious. Jo was saved from hanging due to the circumstances, but killing Robert understandably limited her chances to repair the family fortunes through marriage. She did receive several other sorts of offers, but refused them all. The family moved to smaller quarters in London after being forced to rent the estate in hopes of doing better.

            Unfortunately, the scandal followed them there. Only Jo’s work as a paid companion under an assumed name and forged references kept the family fed, till she had the bright idea of writing about the horrific events of the ball in a thinly-disguised novel. The work was immensely popular and lucrative, especially since she had turned Robert’s character into a vampire from the mystic East only pretending to be an Englishman. She was still utterly disgraced, but the money helped her sisters find respectable husbands.

            Jo found the prospect of her own respectability quite tedious once she had glimpsed the literary world, and penned other scandalous novels. Fortunately her long experience on church committees enabled her to learn all the exciting ways in which families could fail.

            She died at a great old age without a husband, but the rest of her family was well provided for—including a ‘nephew’ that Cordelia was willing to raise as her own son.

The end.

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