The Restless Viscountess

Chapter 5

“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.” Ernest Hemingway

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Chapter Five

Imogen idly twirled her white parasol as she watched her sister being helped onto her horse by one of the stable hands. Alexandra looked very smart in her white riding coat and her brown, leather riding skirt. She looked as though she was ready to walk onto the frontier. Alexandra favoured practical riding clothes, as opposed to the fancy, frilly things that the aristocratic ladies liked.

Her family were going on a hunt, a last hurrah before the summer weather disappeared and England was enveloped in cloud, mist, rain and snow for the next six months.

Of course, not every member of her family was going. Imogen could not ride, or rather, she had never tried to. Her mother was fearful that she would fall from the horse and break her neck. Imogen could see the sense in her fears. If she were to suddenly faint, it could be dangerous for both her and the horse.

Still, Imogen envied her family greatly. Sometimes she felt as though she was sitting on the sidelines, watching her life go by.

Imogen was sitting at a little table that her mother had ordered be brought outdoors. Footmen had brought her tea and sandwiches. Bess had originally planned to stay behind with Imogen, though Imogen had insisted that she go on the hunt. It was rare that Imogen was every left alone. She knew both her parents were apprehensive about it, but Imogen insisted that they go and enjoy the weather.

She was not completely alone anyway. Two footmen stood twenty feet from her, waiting to clear her tea tray, and a housemaid was standing just behind her, ready to catch the parasol should Imogen tire and drop it.

One would think that she was four years old, not one and twenty.

Imogen watched as her family galloped away, chasing after the barking foxhounds, and soon they disappeared into the woods. Imogen rested her head back on the chair. She discarded the parasol and then closed her eyes, enjoying the last rays of the English summer. She knew that she could not be in the sunlight for long as her pale skin would burn.

After five minutes, Imogen could feel that her skin was getting hotter, so she knew it was time to put up her parasol once again. Imogen reached down beside her chair for the parasol but she did not have the strength to lift it. Internally, she groaned.

“May I, milady?” asked Emmeline, the housemaid who was hovering nearby.

“Thank you, Emmeline. You are a dear,” Imogen said gratefully.

Emmeline quickly collected the parasol from the ground and put it up. She held it over Imogen’s head so that she was in the shade. Imogen lifted her teacup, and object that felt considerably lighter than a parasol, and took a sip.

She suddenly wished that she had a book or something to entertain her while her family were out riding, for she would be seated outdoors for however long they were away. Of course, she could ask a footman to help her inside but she would feel uncomfortable leaning on a man that was not her brother or father.

There was a certain trust needed between Imogen whoever she depended on, for if they faltered, or released her for a moment, then she would crumple to the ground. She trusted her family not to drop her. She was apprehensive around others.

Just as she was getting dangerously tempted to summon a footmen to help her indoors, Mr Clarke appeared, followed by a man she could not properly see.