The summer season had ended in spectacular fashion, and I decided to move northward for the colder months. Ravens Landing, a family estate, just outside Chelmsford, would be far cozier, and more appropriate than Portsmouth for the autumn and winter. I longed for the country.

The journey was long and arduous and the house required much work upon arrival; it had been shuttered for more than a year's time. It took over three weeks for the grounds and downstairs rooms to be restored, and only the family rooms and adjoining sitting room were seen to. The guest quarters could wait, as I was sure most were busy doing the same as I, and returning to other homes after the season had come and gone.

A short time after arriving, I received word from my solicitor that certain information had come to light about the late Baron Clive that I should be advised of immediately. As I read the note, my spirits fell; it seemed that the horrid man would haunt me for the rest of my days. Resolute that I should get it over with, I told the footmen that I should be traveling to London in the morning.

We were no more than three miles from our destination when the carriage slowed. I looked out the window to see a horse, saddled and bridled but with no rider. I found it curious, indeed. Then I saw the body on the ground and I hammered my fist on the box to signal the carriage to stop. I knew that there was a chance this was some sort of trick; highwaymen were renowned for their creativity. But should this be a person in actual need of assistance, we could not simply ride on.

I scrambled from the carriage and stood a fair distance off, still unsure, until a strange feeling overcame me. Somehow, I recognized the horse. How could that be? I stood there, flexing my aching hand until it dawned on me that it was Pyramis! During the last weekend affair in Portsmouth, I had learned quite a bit about some of my newer acquaintances, and one in particular, about his horse. I felt queasy suddenly in the knowledge that one of my guests who had, mere weeks earlier, been dancing in my ballroom, lay on the ground. Had he been thrown? Had he been robbed?

The thirty or so paces from carriage to his form took what seemed hours. The footmen had already been to him and turned him, to determine if he was alive. As I drew closer, a mark on the man's face brought a queasiness to my stomach; not because it was an injury, but because it was familiar. Lieutenant Angarano lay still in the grass.

After determining that he was not bleeding, I directed that he be placed in the box with me and that we would be tending to the Signore at the house. The accompanying rider raced ahead to inform the physician he was needed, and Pyramis was tied to the rear of the carriage. I bade the footmen to be careful as they carried him, and without some effort, managed to set him reclining next to me. With his head gently cradled in my hand, the carriage slowly turned around and made the short distance back to the house at a snail's pace, with the solicitor's message easily forgotten.

Upon arrival, servants were waiting near the back stairwell, and the Lieutenant was carefully carried up to the family rooms, and laid on a bed. I waited in the adjoining sitting room while the physician tended to his wounds and determined his condition. My feet made a path from the sill of the closed doors to the fireplace, and back again. Over and over, I paced, waiting for the physician, until finally the knob turned and I dashed to the doorway, looking past the physician as he silently closed the doors behind him.

"Doctor...?" I left the question open. He must have seen the distress on my face.

"Baroness, that man is fortunate you came upon him. Who knows what might have befallen him, if he were left out there past nightfall."

I shuddered to think of all of the grisly possibilities "And....?"

"Well, there are no signs of internal injury, and should none arise in the coming days, I see no reason why he should not recover fully. Though I imagine he will have some issue with his vision for some time, I should think that will resolve itself in due course."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I walked past the doctor to open the door and he moved to block my way "Forgive me Baroness, I...." he faltered, obviously finding it difficult to find the words "We have ample room at the hospital, and nurses aplenty to see to his recovery, should you wish to retain some level of .... well.... privacy.... and propriety."

Both irritated at his presumption and amused at his caring for my reputation, I merely shook the good doctor's hand, thanked him for his services and his concern, and asked if he was familiar enough with the house to see his own way out. He bowed, offered a parting "As you wish," and left.

Lieutenant Angarano was in good hands; capable hands.

Later that night, after a small meal alone, I found myself again in my room, an open book lay in my lap as the candle next to me set shadow creatures to dancing on my wall. I could not sleep.

I walked across the sitting room and opened the door slightly and watched as the valet took up the coat and shoes of the unconscious gentleman to be cleaned, and walked in. Thomas stood upright "Beg pardon milady, I didn't know you were...." I lifted my finger to my lips to silence him, and moved next to the bed.

I looked down on the gentleman and in the dim light, I could barely make out any scratches at all, though his forehead was wrapped with the gauze and some blood dried there... and there. I leaned over, pulling the blankets up to keep him warm and laid my hand on his chest, feeling it rise and fall gently with each breath "Have no fear, Signore," I whispered, "You will be waltzing again in no time." My hand lifted, and gently moved his hair from his face and lingered longer than I should have. Thomas averted his eyes and studied a loose button on the man's coat and I stood, smoothing invisible wrinkles from my skirts "Well then.... you see to those clothes and shoes, Thomas." He nodded, taking up the shoes again from the floor and made his way out the door. I turned to follow him and paused at the door, watching the soft blanket rise and fall. Lieutenant Angarano lay still in the bed.

[all photo credit goes to the talented and charming Rinaldo Angarano]

(Written in conjunction with Rinaldo Angarano's blog: Crossing Paths - Rinaldo - Chapter 1