An Unexpected Marriage with the Earl (Preview)

Chapter One

Hampshire, England

 Summer 1812

“It’s as though I never went away. How long has it been? A year? It’s like nothing’s changed,” Johanna Follett said, peering out of the carriage window as it drove through the village of Wilton-Saint Mary, past the spire of the church in the early afternoon.

Her Aunt Marian smiled at her from across the compartment.

“A year to the day. But you’ve changed, Johanna. When we left, you were a shy, retiring butterfly, but now you’ve spread your wings. I’m very proud of you,” she said, and Johanna smiled.

She was returning from a year abroad with her aunt. It had been a remarkable experience—traveling through Europe, and experiencing other countries and cultures far removed from her own. Venice, Florence, Rome…Johanna had so many memories, and she could not wait to share her stories with her parents and brother.

“I hope they haven’t forgotten me. No…I’m being silly. They wouldn’t have forgotten me. But you’re right, Aunt Marian—I’m the one who’s changed,” Johanna said, struck by the sudden realization of just how profound that change had been. 

When she had been traveling, the world had unfolded before her in a set of endless possibilities. The people she had met, the places she had seen—all of it had served to bring her out of her shell, and she wondered what her parents and brother would think of this change that had come about. Returning home, she was faced with the prospect of what to do next, and what would be expected of her—of a new beginning.

“You’re being very philosophical, Johanna. Your parents are looking forward to seeing you. I’m certain of that. Look, we’re here now,” Johanna’s aunt said.

The carriage had turned into the gates of Wilton Grange, Johanna’s father’s modest estate on the edge of the village. He was the local squire—the Baron Hadley—whose family had held the manor of Wilton since medieval times. It was a handsome house—added to and extended to over the years, most recently during the reign of Queen Anne—and was surrounded by a lush, mature garden. 

“Oh, I’m so pleased to see the gardens looking so lovely. I’ve missed them. The Italian peninsula was so dry. Beautiful, of course. But I missed the lushness of an English garden,” Johanna said, peering out of the window.

Botany was one of her chief interests, and since her youth, she had taken a practical and hands-on approach to the matter of gardening, much to the amusement of the gardener, Mr. Wilson, who was even now pruning the climbing rose above the door.

“Oh, look, there’s Mr. Wilson. Don’t the roses look beautiful? I have so many ideas after seeing the gardens at Villa d’Este,” Johanna said.

The sound of their arrival had brought her parents to the door, and they both waved excitedly as the carriage pulled up outside.

“Oh, Johanna…we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow. What a wonderful surprise,” Johanna’s mother said, hurrying to embrace Johanna as she and her aunt climbed down from the carriage.

“Mother, Father…I’m so pleased to be back,” Johanna exclaimed as her father, too, embraced her.

“We’ve missed you. It hasn’t been the same without you,” he said, and Johanna smiled.

“I’ve missed you, too. But what adventures we’ve had. Haven’t we, Aunt Marian?” Johanna said, turning to her aunt, who smiled.

“And I’m sure they’d be better told over a nice cup of tea, especially after such a long journey,” she said, and Johanna’s parents ushered them inside.

The gardener nodded as Johanna passed, handing her a rose from his prunings.

“I’ve taken good care of your garden, Miss Follett, but I’m sure you’ll be making a thorough inspection,” he said, and Charlotte smiled.

“I’m sure you’ve done a wonderful job, Mr. Wilson. It looks beautiful. You’d have loved the gardens of the Italian peninsula—the scent on a warm day was like heaven itself,” she replied.

Inside, the house was pleasantly cool. It was a warm day, and Charlotte was greeted by the familiar scent of wood polish and her mother’s perfume. There was a comforting familiarity about returning home, and Johanna was glad to see nothing had really changed, save for the minor rearrangement of certain ornaments. Her parents and aunt were already in the drawing room, but Johanna paused before entering, allowing herself a moment to remember the last time she had stood in the hallway.

I was a different person then. I’ve certainly grown up a lot—and I can speak French a lot better than I ever could before, she thought to herself.

But it was not just her French that had improved. Johanna had grown up. She had left Wilton Grange as a silly, immature youngster—by her own admittance. But she had returned with a new perspective on the world. 

“Johanna, come into the drawing room, won’t you? We’re having tea,” her mother called out, and entering the drawing room, Johanna found her aunt and parents sitting by the open doors leading onto the terrace at the back of the house.

“Come and sit down, Johanna, and tell us all about your adventures,” Johanna’s father said.

“But where’s Roger? I thought he’d be here to greet me,” Johanna said, referring to her older brother.

“He’s out on business—for me. Besides, we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow, Johanna. Come along,” her father said.

“Oh, but I don’t know where to start—you can test me on my French and my Latin. I’ve learned so much. Reading all those inscriptions in the ancient ruins we visited. And the people we met—it’s extraordinary to think how other people live their lives. I don’t think I really knew anything about the world until now,” Johanna replied, brimming with excitement at the thought of all she had learned and experienced.

Her mother bid her to sit, and Johanna sat down with them and glanced at her aunt, who smiled.

“There’s so much to tell, isn’t there, Johanna? We’ve crossed Europe and made it as far as the Greek islands,” she said.

Johanna’s mother shook her head.

“I don’t know where you get your spirit of adventure from, Marian. We’re like chalk and cheese. I don’t remember the last time I left the district, though we’ll have to be brave and go up to London soon, won’t we?” she said, glancing at Johanna, who did not know why there was any need for them to go up to London.

“Will we?” she asked, and her mother nodded.

“Yes, for the Season. But we can talk about that later. We want to hear all about your adventures. From the beginning,” Johanna’s mother said.

Johanna was curious about her mother’s words—she did not want to go to London for the Season, and there had been no mention of their doing so in her mother’s letter. She knew what the London Season meant, and the thought of it—of marriage—filled her with foreboding. But with her parents waiting eagerly for tales of her adventures, Johanna put the thought aside, taking a sip of tea, and beginning at the beginning.

“Well, it all started in Paris, I suppose…” she began.

***

“Oh, I feel as though I’ve traveled across Europe myself in the past few hours. What a wonderful time you’ve had, Johanna, and it was so good of you to take her, Marian. I’d have been no good—the heat, the language, the food…” Johanna’s mother said, shaking her head and laughing.

“She was no trouble at all. I’d gladly do it all again. Johanna was the best of traveling companions. I’ll miss her,” Johanna’s aunt said, smiling at Johanna, who smiled back at her and nodded.

She would miss her aunt, too. The two of them had got on well, and there had never been a cross word between them during their travels. Johanna would miss their shared spirit of adventure, and she hoped the journey they had now returned from would not be their last. But Johanna and her mother had always got on well, too, and Johanna was pleased to be home, despite her thoughts as to what the future now held. 

“Ah, here’s Roger now. You’ll have to repeat the story,” Johanna’s father said as the sound of horses’ hooves could be heard on the gravel outside.

Johanna had missed her brother terribly. They were as much friends as siblings, and she had written to him often during her travels, telling him of the wonderful places she was seeing, and how excited she was at the prospect of telling him all about her adventures. A moment later, the drawing room door opened, and Roger appeared, looking surprised to find Johanna and their aunt taking tea.

“Johanna, how wonderful—you’re back. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow,” he exclaimed as Johanna flung herself into his arms.

He seemed older—he was older, but only by a year. But his appearance was that of a man, rather than a youth. His hair had grown, and he now had a beard, neatly clipped. There was no mistaking their relationship—both had inherited their father’s jet-black hair and their mother’s blue eyes. 

“We got back earlier than we expected. But it’s wonderful to see you. We have so much to tell you about,” Johanna said, glancing at her aunt, who smiled.

“But I think I’ll let you do that, Johanna. I need a lie down after our journey,” she said, and Johanna’s mother now fussed around her sister, insisting she go upstairs and rest before dinner.

“And you’ll want to rest, too, Johanna,” she said, but Johanna shook her head.

“No…really, Mother. I’m quite all right. I want to talk to Roger,” Johanna said, smiling at her brother, who smiled back at her.

“Let’s go and sit in the garden—under the oak tree. Where we always used to sit, before you went off gallivanting halfway across the world,” Roger said, and Johanna smiled and nodded as she took her brother’s arm and the two of them left the drawing room for the garden.

At the far end of the lawn, behind the house, was an oak tree—an ancient oak tree, far older than the house and its grounds. Johanna had always loved to sit beneath it on warm days, sheltered by the dappled shade of its branches, and now she and Roger did so once again. It felt like a true homecoming—almost as though she had never left.

“And now I’ve told you of my adventures, what of your own? What business were you out on for father? I thought you’d always vowed never to get involved in all of that. You’ve certainly changed your tune,” Johanna said, when they had sat down beneath the shady boughs of the oak tree.

Roger sighed and shook his head.

“Father hasn’t been well. He keeps it to himself, of course. But he gets tired very easily, and he’s growing thinner with every passing day. I realized I was being selfish in holding back from the responsibility that was mine. Like it or not, I’ll inherit the title, and far better for me to learn under father’s guidance than to be thrust into it in the event of…” Roger said, his words trailing off as he spoke.

Johanna nodded. She had noticed her father had lost a lot of weight since the last time she had seen him. He had always had a healthy complexion—round-faced and jovial. But his features had become gaunt, and there was a pale look to him, as much as he appeared in good spirits.

“He probably doesn’t want to worry Mother,” Johanna said, and Roger nodded.

“Yes, I think you’re right. But whatever happens, I want to take my duties seriously. I’ve grown up in this past year. I think you have, too. And that’s why Mother is taking you to London for the Season…I mean…I’m sure she’s mentioned it,” Roger said, looking suddenly worried, as though he had said the wrong thing.

Johanna raised her eyebrows.

“She mentioned the London Season, but not the reason—though I’m sure I can guess. London Seasons mean marriage, don’t they? Or do you know differently? I hope so, because I don’t want to get married,” Johanna said, adopting a defiant tone.

Roger smiled.

“They want you to get married, Johanna. They’ve been talking about it for months. You and Mother are going up to London for the Season. You’ll go to balls and parties, dinners and picnics. And the hope is…” he began, but Johanna interrupted him.

“The hope is I’ll find a husband? I see.” Johanna said.

She had not expected to return home and find herself immediately thrust into society, but now she understood why her parents had not objected to her aunt’s suggestion of accompanying her on her journey across Europe. Her travels had given Johanna a maturity she had not possessed before, and with so many interesting tales to tell, she would not be short of matters to converse on. Her parents had clearly seen her tour of Europe as preparation for the task of finding a husband—a finishing school for the shy, retiring butterfly of her aunt’s description, and now they were to put their plans into action.

“They just want you to be happy, Johanna. As do I. It’s what you deserve. Neither of them is getting any younger, and I think they feel…Well, it’s their duty to see you married,” Roger said.

But if Johanna’s travels had taught her anything, it was the importance of an independent spirit. Her Aunt Marian was not married, and in her example, Johanna had seen a different possibility for what her life might be.

“But I’ve never really given much thought to getting married. Well, I suppose I have, but I don’t know if I want to, Johanna said, and her brother smiled.

“You don’t have to marry the first man who comes along. Just promise me you’ll think about it. You’ll please the Parker sisters at least,” he said, and Johanna groaned.

“Oh, I was hoping they might’ve disappeared off to London—didn’t they want a Season of their own? They’re not still causing trouble, are they?” Johanna asked.

Her brother smiled.

“Don’t give them a second thought, Johanna. When have they ever not sought to cause trouble? Besides, once you go to London for your Season, you won’t have them to contend with. They’re just jealous women—it’s no wonder they can’t find husbands for themselves, despite forever looking,” he replied.

“Yes…well, I just hope I don’t bump into them. That’s all. But right now, I’m eager to go out on a ride. Is Pegasus well?” she asked.

Pegasus was Johanna’s horse, and she was eager to see him again, for she had missed riding during her time in Europe and had asked her brother to keep him exercised. Roger smiled.

“He’s stubborn. He doesn’t like me riding him—not at all. But I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you. Shall I come with you?” he said, but Johanna shook her head.

“No—thank you. I want to ride out on my own. It’s what I’ve missed the most—apart from you and Mother and Father, of course. And the garden,” Johanna said, and her brother laughed.

“I’ll see you later—and remember what I said, don’t give the Parker sisters a second though,” he replied.

Johanna nodded, and then she made her way to the stable, finding Pegasus being brushed down by her father’s groom, Andrew.

“Ah, the wanderer returns,” he said, tipping his cap, as Johanna ran her hand along Pegasus’ silky-smooth back.

The horse whinnied, nuzzling his head into hers, and Johanna kissed his nose, fondling his ears as she did so.

“Oh, Andrew, how pleased I am to see him—and you, of course. I’ve missed being in the saddle,” she said, and the groom smiled.

“You’re the only one who can ride him properly, Miss Follett,” he said, and Johanna laughed.

“Then I’d better get him saddled,” she said, eager to feel the wind in her hair and know she was home.

Chapter Two

“And you haven’t forgotten the arrival of the dowager countess, have you, Mrs. Parks?” Edmund Banfield, the Earl of Beaumont, said. 

He was looking up from the breakfast table at his housekeeper, who now forced a smile to her lips and shook her head.

“No, my lord. How could I?” she replied.

Edmund smiled. It was just the way he felt, too. His mother was due to arrive from London that afternoon. She spent most of her time in the capital, preferring it to what she referred to as “the provincial scene.”

The dowager countess was a socialite who found the countryside boring, and had been only too glad to rid herself of the responsibilities marriage to Edmund’s father had brought.

“All those pointless charitable endeavors, the endless entertainment of dull people, and the fact one could never buy anything one really wanted,” she had said, before leaving for London following the death of Edmund’s father.

But Edmund himself had taken a different view. He had been away at school, and then at Oxford, before a period spent in military service to the crown. But all of these endeavors had been a waiting game—the wait to inherit, which he had done eight months previously upon the death of his father. But returning to Hampshire had not been the trial he might have expected, had he believed the many things his mother said about her forced exile in the countryside—quite the opposite. Edmund liked the countryside. He liked to ride out or to walk across the estate, immersing himself in the natural world, with all its beauty and diversity.

“Prepare yourself, Mrs. Parks. I love my mother dearly, but you know better than me what she can be like,” Edmund said, shaking his head as he rose from the breakfast table.

“I served your grandmother, then your mother, my lord. I know just what’s expected,” Mrs. Parks said.

“You missed your true calling, Mrs. Parks—you should’ve been a diplomat. I’ll leave the preparations in your capable hands. She won’t be here until late this afternoon. I’m going to take one last opportunity for some peace and quiet,” Edmund replied.

It was a beautiful morning, and he intended to ride out to the far side of the estate, where a wood bordered the river and bluebells grew in abundance.

“May I ask, my lord, why Her Ladyship is visiting Beaumont Abbey at all? I thought she detested being here,” Mrs. Parks said, and Edmund raised his eyebrows.

“Yes…I’d wondered the same. But I fear her reasons are…practical. She wants me to marry, and since I won’t go up to London, she’s coming here instead,” he said, and the housekeeper nodded.

“I see, my lord. Well…I can only wish you luck,” she said, and with a curt nod, she left the dining room.

Edmund smiled to himself. His mother was not as bad as might be thought. But she was a forceful presence, and she had made the intentions of her visit clear.

“It’s high time you were married, Edmund. Think of the family line,” she had written in her letter inviting herself to stay with him at Beaumont Abbey.

There had been no suggestion as to how long the dowager would remain in Hampshire, and Edmund could only assume she would do so until her task was completed. He knew it was his duty to marry. The line was an ancient one, and the Beaumonts were a noble family. But Edmund was in no hurry to do his duty. He was not about to begin a courtship with someone simply out of necessity. If Edmund was to marry, he wanted to do so for love. His mother did not see it that way, of course. She and his father had married through an arrangement, and though it had been a happy marriage—despite Edmund’s mother’s dislike for the countryside—it could not have been called passionate. Theirs had not been a marriage based on love, but rather, a marriage based on duty. It was not what Edmund wanted.

But I’m sure she’s got other plans, he thought to himself, wondering how his mother would go about finding him a match.

The district of Beaumont Abbey was limited in terms of society. They had neighbors, of course, but there was little by way of a social scene. Edmund preferred the company of his friends to larger societal events, and since returning home to take up the title, he had made several close friends with whom he hunted or went for long walks with across the estate. But today, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts—before his mother arrived to fill those thoughts with her own agenda.

I suppose I should be grateful to her, Edmund thought to himself, as he left the house and walked the short distance across the gravel to the stables.

His mother had his best interests at heart. Jacob knew she wanted him to be happy, but her dominance and interfering attitude often resulted in conflict. 

“I’ll take Lorna,” Edmund said, after the groom had asked him which of the horses he would like to ride out on.

“It’s a fine morning, my lord,” the groom said as he saddled the chestnut mare.

Edmund took a keen interest in horses—both breeding and riding them. Lorna was his favorite—a gift for his eighteenth birthday from his parents. She was a fine horse, and as Edmund climbed into the saddle, he looked forward to the swiftness of the ride, and the freedom of the gallop.

“Thank you, Jones. I don’t know when I’ll be back—not before noon, at least,” Edmund said before riding out of the stable yard and urging Lorna into a gallop across the parkland.

The dew was sparkling on the grass as he rode, and a mist on the river was still clearing. The sun was already warm, and Edmund breathed in the fresh air, delighting in the freedom of the ride. He was glad to have this moment of peace before the arrival of his mother—a chance to think and reflect on the past eight months. He was twenty-two years old, and already burdened with the responsibility of one far beyond his years. But duty was a lesson his father had taught him from a young age, and despite the burdens of his title, Edmund knew he would not shrink from doing what was expected of him.

And I suppose that includes marriage, too, he told himself as he charged across the parkland, taking a path that would lead him by the river and toward the woods where the bluebells grew.

Edmund often rode that way. He liked to see the changing of the seasons in the changing of the trees—bluebells heralding the end of spring or falling leaves signaling the approach of winter. But today, the promise of summer reigned, and the air was fresh with the scent of new life. Lorna was in excellent form, galloping by the river as though she, too, wanted to feel that same freedom Edmund was experiencing. 

“Woah there, Lorna,” he said, reining in the horse as they came to the edge of the trees.

The carpet of bluebells was spread out before them, a wave of color enveloping the woodland floor. Edmund smiled, taking in the scene and knowing he would far rather be there than in the middle of a city, surrounded by noise and other people. Here, in the cool stillness of the woodland, he felt at peace, and now he set Lorna into a gentle trot, following the path through the woodland and admiring the bluebells as he went.

It’s so beautiful, he thought to himself, smiling at the thought of this all being his.

But Edmund sat lightly to his power. He did not boast of it or use his position to influence others to his own advantage—or so he hoped. But in this moment of peace, he allowed himself to feel a small sense of satisfaction at all he had achieved in the past few months since inheriting the title.

I wonder what my father would say? Edmund thought to himself.

His father had been a cold and distant figure during Edmund’s childhood and having been sent away at an early the two of them had never had much chance to form a bond. But in the last few weeks of his father’s life, the two of them had come to an understanding of sorts.

“You’ll make a good earl, Edmund. A better one than I ever was,” he had said, and when he had died, Edmund had found himself feeling unexpectedly bereft.

And that’s why I suppose I have to do what my mother wants—it’s what he’d expect of me, too, Edmund thought to himself.

They had come to the very center of the woods, where the trees were the most ancient, and their canopies merged as one, creating an overarching roof like that of a great cathedral with its gothic arches. The sunlight was cast in dappled rays, and the bluebells stretched out on every side, like an endless sea of purple. Edmund smiled—it was a secret place, hidden away, a place of peace and contemplation. He was about to slip down from the saddle, intending to climb up into one of the trees and sit there for a while, when a sudden movement to his left caused him to startle. A deer had just appeared from behind one of the trees. It darted across the path, startling Lorna, who now reared up on her hind legs.

“Woah there, Lorna,” Edmund cried, but the horse now bolted, and Edmund was thrown from the saddle to the ground.

He landed awkwardly, hitting the back of his head on the gnarled root of a tree protruding from the ground. As he did so, he heard a loud crack, followed by a searing pain in his right arm. Rolling amid the bluebells, he gazed up at the canopy above, dazed and confused.

“I think I’ve broken my arm,” he said to himself, unable to sit up, and now lying helplessly in the middle of the wood, the horse gone and help far away…

***

“I’d forgotten how beautiful England can be on a summer’s day,” Johanna said to herself.

She had ridden as far as the woodland bordering the east side of the village before proceeding on foot through the trees. Bluebells were growing in abundance, and Johanna had brought her sketchbook with her, intending to draw a scene by the brook—where she had often come to sit and contemplate. It was a beautiful day, and Johanna had been glad of her wide-brimmed sun hat as now she sat sketching beneath the trees.

I’ve certainly improved my sketching since going abroad, she thought to herself, for on the continent, she had made numerous sketches of the buildings and landscapes they had seen.

In time, Johanna intended to paint some of them as pictures to hang at Wilton Grange. But that was a task for the winter, and on a day such as this, she was content to sit with her sketchbook and try to forget her mother’s plans for the London Season. But despite her best attempts, Johanna could not forget her mother’s plans. Life was about to change. It already had in many ways, but as for what would happen when she and her mother went to London…

“I don’t want to think about it,” Johanna said to herself, trying to concentrate on her sketch.

But her thoughts kept returning to her brother’s words, and to what was intended now she and her aunt had returned from Europe. What would London be like? Would she be expected to attend all manner of balls and soirees? Did she really have to make a match by the end of the Season? It was all very confusing, and Johanna sighed, wishing she was about to set off on another adventure with her aunt. She had just finished making her preliminary sketch, when the sound of voices echoed through the trees. Johanna’s heart sank.

“I just don’t understand it, Hortensia—one minute he was paying calls and arranging picnics and visits to the theater, and the next…well, I’ve heard nothing from him,” a high-pitched voice was saying, as along the path came the Parker sisters—Hortensia and Mildred—arm in arm.

They were dressed in the most ridiculously impractical and over the top clothes—dresses like ballgowns, and heavily decorated bonnets covering their hair—as though they had set out in the hopeful expectation of encountering a match on their walk through the woods. There was no time for Johanna to hide, and now she scrambled to her feet, dusting herself down as she came face to face with the two people she had hoped not to meet.

“Johanna—we were just talking about you the other day. We thought you’d got lost on the continent,” Mildred said, smirking at Johanna, who forced a smile to her face.

“Mildred, Hortensia—what a pleasant surprise. I arrived back today, in fact. I thought the two of you might be…in London for the Season,” she said, and the expression on the sisters’ faces changed.

“No…we decided to remain here. Mother isn’t well, and…well, one doesn’t need to be in London to enjoy the Season, does one?” Hortensia replied.

There was a defensiveness to her tone, and Johanna thought better than to prolong the conversation with further questions. She had never cared for the Parker sisters, and she knew the feeling was mutual.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother,” Johanna said, and the two sisters nodded.

“Yes, well, Doctor Arnold’s been very good with her,” Mildred replied.

“I’m glad to hear it. I should be on my way,” Johanna said.

“Oh, were you meeting someone? I didn’t realize,” Hortensia said.

The Parker sisters had not changed—they delighted in scandal and were not above creating it to satisfy their own ends. In something as innocent as a walk in the woods, they were likely to read more into the matter than was the case. Johanna shook her head.

“No, I’m not meeting anyone—I’ve only been back a few hours. I came to ride out. I’ve missed doing so abroad,” she replied.

“Well, don’t let us keep you, Johanna. I’m sure we’ll bump into one another again soon—it’s inevitable in a small place,” Mildred said, and nodding to Johanna, the two sisters walked on, arm in arm, whispering to one another.

Johanna sighed. She had tried to be friendly toward Hortensia and Mildred, but the two sisters kept their own counsel. In the past, Johanna had often felt a sense of rivalry and jealousy on their part toward her.

Better kept at arm’s length. Roger’s right—at least I won’t have to contend with them in London, Johanna thought to herself, as now she returned to her sketching.

But she had barely drawn the outline of another tree when the sound of horse’s hooves caused her to look up. There, to her immense surprise, was a saddled horse charging through the trees at a gallop. 

Where’s the rider? Johanna thought to herself, rising to her feet and wondering if she should try to catch the creature before it disappeared.

But the horse was too fast, and Johanna knew better than to try to get in the way of a charging mount. She was about to follow at a distance, hoping to catch the reins, when the horse eventually came to a stop, when a shout through the trees caused her to startle.

“Help me…is anyone there? Help me, please,” a voice called out.

It was a man’s voice, and Johanna now hurried through the trees, looking for its source. She found him in a clearing of trees, lying on the carpet of bluebells. He was well-dressed, a gentleman in a green frock coat, riding breeches, and black boots. He was a few years older than Johanna—perhaps her brother’s age—and handsome, too, with tousled blonde hair and a fair complexion. Johanna hurried over to him.

“It’s all right—I heard you. The horse threw you. I’ll help you,” Johanna said, kneeling down next to the man, who looked up at her with a thankful expression on his face.

“It’s my arm. I think it’s broken. I can’t move it without it…ah, it hurts!” he exclaimed, and Johanna took off her shawl, helping him to sit up before fashioning a sling with it.

“It’s all right. I know it hurts. Let me put this under your arm,” she said, and the man grimaced as she gently moved the sling into position.

“Thank you…it was a deer. It bolted from the trees, and Lorna—the horse—bolted. I feel so foolish,” he said, catching his breath and giving Johanna a faint smile.

“It’s not foolish to be thrown from one’s horse, is it? It was an accident,” Johanna said.

“I know, but…well, it shouldn’t have happened. Look at me, sitting here amid the bluebells. Thank goodness you heard me call out. I’ve never met anyone in these woods before. I thought I might be here all day,” the man said, shaking his head, as Johanna now tried to help him to stand.

“It’s quite all right…I’m just glad I heard you call for help. Here, put your arm around me,” Johanna said.

The man was unsteady on his feet, and Johanna feared he was about to faint. She put both her arms around him, trying to steady him and prevent him from falling.

“I’m sorry,” he kept repeating.

“It’s all right—just hold on to me,” Johanna said.

Her arms were around him, and he was clinging to her as she tried to hold him up. But as she was doing so, the sound of voices now came from along the path.

“One wonders what she got up to—all those months abroad, and with only her aunt to act as chaperone, and…oh,” Hortensia said as the two sisters appeared along the path.

Johanna stared at them as they stared back at her, before exchanging glances and giggling.

“We need to help him—can you fetch the doctor?” Johanna said, but Hortensia only laughed.

“Oh, really, Johanna, do you really expect us to fall for that?” Mildred said.

For a moment, Johanna did not understand—was it not obvious what had happened? She was trying to help the man. He had been injured, even as the Parker sisters now turned away.

“Don’t worry, Johanna. Your secret’s safe with us,” Hortensia called out, and Johanna watched in desperation as they walked away, arm in arm, whispering to one another as they went.

“What…what happened?” the stranger asked, his head lolling to one side.

He was about to faint, and now she could no longer hold him, and together, they tumbled to the ground. He was unconscious, and now Johanna was the one calling for help, even as the Parker sisters disappeared through the trees.