“Jeremy.” Giles looked at him in reproof. “Lady Adalyn will not be shrieking like a fishwife. A modest cry or two should suffice.”
“But surely a loud scream would really get the point across…”
“Only if you want every doctor between here and London summoned.”
“Gentlemen.” Adalyn raised her hand. “No squabbling. To keep you both happy, I shall attempt a most ladylike cry of distress. It will be loud…” she nodded to Jeremy, “but in keeping with my status.” She nodded at Giles.
“That will be satisfactory,” approved Giles.
“All right,” added Jeremy. “I might throw in a cry or two myself.”
He clutched his hands to his chest, cleared his throat and tossed his head back on a dramatic shout. “LadyAdalyn. Oh myword. She’s…she’sfallen…”
Adalyn laughed and even Giles cracked a smile.
“Enough, jokester,” she chided. “You’ll be picking me up, not creating a tragedy.”
“Make sure this goes smoothly, Jeremy.” Giles eyed him.
Jeremy sobered. “Of course. It’s Lady Adalyn. I would nevereverlet harm come to her. You know that, Giles.”
Giles nodded. “Time to go.”
And so, to the casual observer, Lady Adalyn of Wolfbridge Manor set off on a morning stroll, wrapped warmly against the weather and with her footman, Jeremy, as escort.
Their route was preplanned, although it would not seem that way to whoever might be watching. Adalyn headed away from the Manor and out toward the fields, making it appear that her destination was the higher ground of the nearby hills.
It took them over some rough lanes, and conveniently, past several farmers who had gathered with Trick to discuss the upcoming breeding season.
Less than ten minutes from the house, she was waving to them, and admiring the horses as they trotted around the field, displaying their merit.
And then, moments later, she stumbled and fell.
A cry, a shout from Jeremy and half a dozen local farmers rushed to the hedge, to find her on the ground, holding her ankle.
“My Lady,” shouted Trick.
“Oh God,” yelled another farmer. “A gate, we need a gate…”
There was considerable hubbub from the hedge as the men gathered to offer whatever assistance they could.
“Wait,” yelled Jeremy.
Silence fell as Adalyn moved, slowly lifting her head and looking at the faces staring down at her in concern. “I am so sorry to worry you all.” She gently raised a portion of her skirt. “The heel on my boot seems to have snapped. That must have been what precipitated my fall. So silly.”
She made to rise as Jeremy helped her, then yelped a little. “Oh…oh my ankle..” She reached for the area and held it. “I believe I may have suffered a slight sprain.” Turning to Jeremy she held out her arm. “If you could just…”
“Careful, my Lady…”
He was solicitous and respectful as he bent to help her stand, but caught her against him as she tried to take her weight on her injured limb.
“I cannot,” she muttered. “The ankle…”
“Hush now, my Lady. We’ll get you back to the house in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
Trick, who had vaulted over the lowest part of the hedge, came running up. “Here now, my Lady. Jeremy and I will carry you.” He glanced at the farmers. “Sorry, lads. Can we continue our discussion next week? I must tend to my Lady.”
“Of course…”
