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The perspiration beading on Fitzwilliam’s temples drew my notice. After having carried the woman for a upwards of a mile, his arms must be monstrously weary. I called to Joe, our tall, sturdy under gardener, and he hied to me. “I wonder if you can appreciate the singular form of discomfort for a wife in witnessing her husband in close contact with another female.”

Joe cocked his head. “Ah…um…yes, ma’am.”

“So, for the sake of my sensibilities, pray relieve the master of his burden.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He moved before my husband with his arms out.

After a moment’s hesitation, Fitzwilliam transferred the woman to Joe. He flexed and extended his forearms several times. “Follow us.” He used his “Master of Pemberley” diction.

Joe nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He took my arm, and we strode towards the house. “Where shall we put her?”

“The blue guest room on the first floor.” With a glance back at Joe, I sidled closer to my husband. “I hope you are not peevish at my presumption back there.” I used a low tone.

“No, although I wonder at your true motivation.” He responded in kind.

Ah, he saw through my pretence. But no matter the strain to his person, he would never admit to being overly taxed. Therefore, I should take part in a minor bit of deception. “Without question, you could have carried her the rest of the way with ease.”

“Indeed. One might wonder, then, why you felt it necessary to impose upon our gardener.”

“On the contrary, I acted for his sake. After all, how often does a young man have an opportunity to assist a damsel in distress?”

He gave me a wry smile. “That is a pretty explanation—one I am not quite inclined to believe.”

My lips protruded in a playful pout.

“Neither, though, am I foolish enough to press you further on the subject.”

That is for the best. His statement merited a pert look from me.

Mr. Hunt stepped away from the bed where the woman lay in a deep sleep. He stood before me, the lines in his forehead deepening.

“How is she?” My gaze vacillated between the woman and him. Mrs. Reynolds and I had been present throughout his examination, which revealed evidence of past injuries—bruises on her arms, legs, and on one of her lower ribs. Although several unintelligible murmurs had come from the woman, she had not yet awakened.

“She is exhausted and dehydrated, and I should be surprised if she has had much food in the past few days. If you can get her to drink and eat, she ought to recover, since I did not find any other indications of serious illness.” His jaw stiffened. “However, there is no escaping the fact that she has been hurt in the past. Unfortunately, I have seen similar bruises on victims of abusive husbands and fathers.”

My stomach muscles drew taut. “That is terrible.” I shared a look with Mrs. Reynolds, who wore a frown.

She went towards the servants’ bell. “Madam, I shall have a tray brought up with broth and a variety of food.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Mr. Hunt returned to the woman and glanced at me. “I believe it is time I roused her.” He patted the woman’s hand. “Madam, you must wake up.” He spoke in a soft voice. When she did not respond, he applied smelling salts.

With a gasp, she opened her eyes and shrank from him. “Who…who are you?” She pulled the bed-clothes higher, her chest heaving.

I stepped nearer to catch her gaze. “Pray be easy. My name is Mrs. Darcy, and you are in my home. We are here to help you. This is Mr. Hunt, and he is a surgeon.” I indicated my housekeeper. “This is Mrs. Reynolds. My husband and I found you unconscious in our woods this morning.”

“Oh, I see.” Her chin lowered, and she blinked several times, taking on a more relaxed comportment. “I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble. My name is…Sarah. Sarah Jones.”

“You need not apologize. However, you are in great need of nourishment.” I poured a glass of lemon water from the pitcher on the table. Will you sit up so you may drink?” She pushed herself upwards, and I arranged the pillow behind her.

Sarah accepted the glass from me. “Thank you, ma’am. You’re very kind.” A tremble hindered her hands as she lifted the glass.

“You are quite welcome.”

Her sight darted throughout the chamber. “Where’s my…um…?”