The first week of summer came blasting into the estate with a force like the Stone family had never seen. All of the windows had been thrown open in the manor to allow the cool morning breezes to pass through, and the family had taken to spending most of their days outside beneath the oak trees in the soothing shade. John and his siblings had even decided to take a swim once or twice in the river on the particular scorching days.

There was much excitement in the house as they prepared for Lady Agnes and her family. John’s sisters were so pleased to be able to have another woman around whom they could share stories with and discuss womanly matters. His mother couldn’t wait to smother the young woman in affection, and his father was looking forward to showing her around the estate that she would soon call home.

John had insisted that they all refrain from discussing the wedding for the first week or so that she and her family were there. There was much protest to his request, and they all reminded him that they all were well aware why they were getting together, but he insisted that he had not forgotten about the wedding or the reason for their arrival. In truth, he wanted some time with Lady Agnes that did not require the pressure of the impending marriage looming overhead. He was not naïve enough to think that it would not come up, or that either of them would be pretending as if they weren’t preparing to be wed, but he hoped that he could give her the chance to get to know who he was without the pressure of the coming wedding.

He found himself going back and forth between anxious thoughts, feeling entirely insignificant and unworthy, and utter excitement, wondering wildly about what her laugh sounded like and what her face looked like when she was cross. He found himself sleeping less and less as the day of their arrival approached, and by the morning they were to arrive, he looked forward to getting the meeting over with so he could return to a normal sleep pattern.

He and his father gathered outside on the drive beside the large ponds with the fountains that lined the path up to the manor house. The day was warm, and standing in the direct sun as they waited was unpleasant to say the least.

“They said they would arrive before dark today, did they not?” John asked, looking down the drive for what felt like the thousandth time.

His father nodded, seemingly unaffected by the heat. “They did. Just be patient, my son. I understand that you are anxious to meet your bride-to-be.”

John shifted uncomfortably. That was true, but it was the heat that was causing him to wish they had arrived already.

His mother walked outside, and soon joined them beside the fountains. “Oh, I have waited for this day for so many years,” she said, more emotion in her voice than he would have expected.

He did not want to admit how much he had waited for this since his father had informed him that Lady Agnes was indeed old enough to be married; his entire life had changed in an instant.

He did not have to wait long; there was the sound of horses at the bottom of the hill, and the sound of carriage wheels crunching in the gravel of the drive carried through the trees before they could even see it.

A sleek, handsome carriage appeared soon after, and John quickly forgot the heat. It was made of polished mahogany with golden adornments and a very well dressed footman sat in the front, who wore a stoic expression as they approached.

“Very good,” his father said as he took a step toward the carriage. It came to a stop right in front of the manor, and John felt his heart stop in his throat.

This was it. All of the worrying, all of the time and preparation, it had led to this moment, and he was feeling suddenly as if he was not prepared for it. What if he said something wrong? What if she was too childish? What if she despised him?

It all seemed entirely too much for him to bear, and then, the carriage door opened.

The man who stepped out was one he recognized, surprisingly. He was a thin, short man with a balding head, wearing spectacles. A welcoming gaze spread across the length of his whole face, giving him a quite jolly appearance. He had not seen Lord Kensington for many years, and yet, to see his face was as if he was seeing an old friend, caused the knot in his chest to loosen.

He turned to help a very pretty woman about his mother’s age step from the carriage, and he also found he recognized her as well, though less so than the man before. He assumed this was Lady Kensington, Lady Agnes’s mother. She had dark hair, tied in a loose plait, and she wore clothes that must have been made by the most skilled seamstress. He had only seen garments as fashionable on his youngest sister, who held such things to a high standard.

“Lord and Lady Kensington,” his father said, bowing his head to them. “Welcome. It is magnificent to see you both again.”

“Likewise, Duke. It has been far too long,” Lord Kensington replied, also bowing his head before he shook hands with John’s father.

Their fondness for one another was evident, and it gave John joy in spite of his nerves; he hoped that he, too, could have a friendship such as this when he was older.

He was distracted by his father’s reunion with his friend to have seen it, but Lady Agnes had stepped from the carriage herself, and he found that he was lost for words.

Lady Agnes was what you might consider plain. She was of average height, standing precisely in the middle compared to his own siblings, and she was neither too thin nor too heavy. Her hair was the color of the crows that often flocked outside on the lawns, which suited her since he knew that she was born in midwinter. Her eyes were deep blue like the waters of the sea, and her skin as pale as a dove.

Nothing was remarkable about her, nothing to cause a person to pause or remember a striking trait about her. But there was something about the way she looked around, something about how she carried herself, that made him realize that she was not just an ordinary young woman.

And then, she looked over in his direction, and their eyes met; he found himself at a loss for words. Their eye contact held so much more than anything they could have ever said. He saw hope mixed with anticipation, shadowed by doubt, and flickers and shimmers of joy. He knew that she would be able to see the very same things reflected in his own eyes.

Her eyes grew wide, the whole moment felt so much different than he had thought it would, and he had wondered how it would play out over and over again for the last several weeks.

He was vaguely aware that someone was speaking beside him, but he didn't pay them much attention. He could not take his eyes off of Lady Agnes, and he knew that he was staring at her like a fool.

She smiled at him, and it caused his heart in his chest to tighten uncomfortably. It was a lovely, genuine smile. He felt no malice from her, no desire for unnecessary and disingenuous formalities, and he could not be sure why he was so sure of this. Something in her face made her more real to him than any other woman he had ever met in his life.

"John, are you quite all right?"

He blinked and looked over to see his father very close to him, speaking in a hushed voice and his eyes wide with surprise.

"Oh," John replied, shifting uncomfortably under his father's gaze. "Yes, of course," he answered, nodding at all the faces looking at him. Lady Agnes seemed to be the only one who was not looking at him in a bewildered manner.

His father cleared his throat before turning his attention back to Lord Kensington. "As I was saying, my boy, this is Lord and Lady Kensington," he said, gesturing to the man and woman standing before him, warm greetings now on their faces. "I was unsure if you remembered them."

John grinned at them and inclined his head. "In fact, I do remember. However, the pleasure is mine, and it is wonderful to see you again."

His mother seemed pleased, looking at him from behind his father's back. He knew how important this whole week was going to be for his family, so he endeavored to keeping the peace as much as possible.

He noticed the smile on Lady Agnes's face widen ever so slightly, and he wondered if she was amused by him. The thought both troubled and excited him.

"And, a moment that we have all been excited for," his father said, gesturing to the woman John was watching so closely, and he took a step toward her, taking her hand and pulling her closer to John.

"This is Lady Agnes," his father started.

"I know," John replied, beaming at the girl, unable to help himself.

The young lady appeared pleased.

"And Lady Agnes, this is Lord Bridgewater."

And when she spoke, John felt a memory rising up in the back of his mind, a long-forgotten echo of what felt like another life all together. He knew that he had never heard her voice before, or at least the fully-grown sound of her voice. Was this truly the only time they had met since they had been so young?

"It is wonderful to meet you," she said, her voice very soft and low, and he longed for her to keep speaking. It was a soothing tone, one he knew was befitting to a great mother and wife, one who would console and encourage with very little effort at all.

"We have met before," he said, before he realized what he had said. "That is, this is not our very first time meeting, of course."

"Indeed," she replied. "We were quite young. I do not remember the event at all."

"It was so long ago, and my memory of our introduction is fleeting," he said, shaking his head. "And I was certainly old enough to remember."

"The memory of a young boy is not expected to be filled with betrothals," John heard his mother say. "Things like adventures and sword fights and tales of heroism."

"I myself enjoy adventures and stories of heroism as well," Lady Agnes replied, with an unrestrained excitement in her expression.

"Do you?" his mother said, a pleasant look on her face, and yet John had seen the flicker of surprise in her eyes.

He knew how his mother disliked the very idea of adventures.

"Well, shall we adjourn to the manor, dear friends?" his father suggested. "The weather is quite warm today, and we do not wish for the ladies to be uncomfortable in this heat."

"Wonderful suggestion," his mother said, turning immediately toward the house. "I could do with a sit down. Come, Lady Kensington, we have much to catch up about."

And the two women turned, arm in arm, toward the house, already speaking rather animatedly to one another.

"It appears they missed each other perhaps more than I had realized," Lord Kensington commented as the rest of them started toward the manor.

"I would have to agree," John's father said, his hands behind his back, matching the slow pace beside his friend. “Two summers is perhaps a tad too long for us to see one another.”

“Though now that our children will be married, surely we will see much more of each other.”

The two men laughed together.

Lady Agnes fell into step behind her father, looking around her.

John swallowed hard and began walking beside her, slightly farther away than his father from her father, but he continually stole glances of her as they made their way toward the large front doors.

She did not seem to notice the fact that he was looking at her, either that or she was far too polite to acknowledge it. He watched as she looked over the grounds, up at the manor, and around at the river. He found himself hoping that she was impressed by the place, that she found it sufficient. He knew that her family was quite wealthy as well, and perhaps the estate where she currently lived was more elegant or perhaps even larger than his father's. It was unlikely, as his father had one of the largest estates this side of London.

"Lady Agnes," he heard himself say, and with a sickening twisting of his stomach, she turned to look at him, her blue eyes wide.

"Yes?" she asked, and he suddenly wished he had left her to her own musings. It was easier to watch her when she was not directly staring at him.

He swallowed hard and looked at the door they were approaching. "Did...was the traveling pleasant?"

You are a complete fool, he told himself. A complete fool who cannot seem to find those social graces his governess spent years honing.

"It was indeed. It only took three days’ time, and both nights we stayed the most wonderful places. Last night, for instance, we stayed with my cousin, Sir Littleton, who allowed me to play his piano forte until I could barely keep my eyes open." A musical laugh escaped her, and he found that it was very pleasant to hear. "I absolutely love to see the countryside, so the ride here was quite enjoyable for me."

He was pleased that she was so forthcoming with information. She had either ignored his blunder or did not notice it; either way, he was glad that she was so amiable.

They spoke of the weather as they walked down the hall toward the sitting room on the eastern side of the house, away from the hot afternoon sun. He felt he was stumbling over his own words and that he couldn’t say the things that he wanted to. Everything that came out of his mouth was incredibly formal, and yet, she continued to talk to him as if they had been friends for years. No matter what he did, he could not force himself to be warm, and he scolded himself relentlessly.

They found their mothers inside the sitting room already, being served cool drinks, as well as all three of John’s sisters.

His sisters swarmed Lady Agnes, excitedly bombarding her with questions and giggles. It took a few moments for them to hear their father urging to give the poor girl some space and allow her to sit down after her long journey.

“That is quite all right, Your Grace,” she replied cheerfully. John’s stomach tumbled inside of him. “I am content standing in order to stretch my legs.”

“Perhaps the children would enjoy a walk around the gardens?” John’s mother said, a playful grin on her face. “Give them a chance to get to know one another a bit more?”

Lord Kensington looked at his wife, who nodded happily.

“I think that sounds like a fine idea.”

“And dinner will be ready in an hour, Mr. Barnes just informed us.”

“Wonderful,” John’s father said, looking at John. “Would you like to take the ladies outside for a nice stroll?”

John noticed his sisters all looking intently at him. He knew that everyone was watching how he was going to handle being around Lady Agnes, and so far, he felt as if he was entirely inept.

“Of course,” he said, bowing. He turned to Lady Agnes. “Shall I accompany you and my sisters outdoors? We have a lovely collection of roses on the south side of the estate.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she replied.

He gestured toward the French doors at the back of the room that led out to the terrace that wrapped around the back of the manor. Immediately his sisters rose and made their way to the door, looking over their shoulders at him and the Lady Agnes.

The sun, now beginning to descend behind the line of trees, was not as warm as it had been when Lady Agnes and her family had arrived.

John’s youngest sisters, Lady Beatrice and Lady Margaret, grinned at him as they made their way over to Lady Agnes, pointing out over the hedgerows toward the river as it wound around through the grounds of the estate. He couldn’t quite hear what they all were saying, but Lady Agnes seemed pleased.

“I have not seen you look this lost since your hound was missing four years ago.”

He turned to see his middle sister, the eldest of the three girls, Lady Jane, a very pretty young woman, with the same golden hair that he had, all curled and tied in a neat knot behind her head. She straightened the dress she wore, as aware of her appearance as ever.

“I do not know what you mean,” he said, still watching Lady Agnes, who had begun to descend the stairs with Margaret.

“Of course you do, and I am not unfamiliar with it.”

He huffed and attempted to ignore his sister.

She laughed hollowly.

“Why aren’t you the one showing her around? Is that not what you promised father you would do?”

A knot formed in his throat and still he would not look at his sister.

“I see,” she replied. “Let me guess. She is not all that you hoped that she would be, right?”

The idea seemed so preposterous, so far from the truth, that he honestly had nothing to say in response. It was enough to cause him to look at his sister.

Her blue eyes widened when they met his. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Well, I did not expect this. You are…you are at a loss for words.” She turned to face him, peering into his face more closely. “If I did not know any better, I would say that you are downright infatuated with this young lady!”

He turned away again.

He watched Lady Agnes look over her shoulder at him, and he felt his face redden.

“Come along, brother. Let us walk and keep up with them.”

She put her arm through John’s and began to lead him down toward the gardens, following along behind Lady Agnes and his other two sisters.

“I have to admit, she is rather plain looking,” Jane said pointedly.

“That’s quite rude,” he responded. “How would you feel if someone said that about you?”

She shrugged, brushing a stray curl from her face. “They never have. And I am quite sure they never will.”

John rolled his eyes, and she did not notice.

“Regardless of what people think of me, what did you see in her? Something must have caught your eye for you to be so…tongue-tied.”

He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to talk to her, but it began tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“There is just something so…genuine about her.”

“Genuine.” Jane clicked her tongue impatiently. “You have spent many nights at balls with the most beautiful women enraptured by your very presence, and you have given them no second glances. And then this woman arrives, and suddenly you are as shy as a mouse?”

“And?” he asked, watching Lady Agnes throw back her head and laugh at something that Beatrice said.

They were nearing the rose garden, and both of his younger sisters were glancing between him and Lady Agnes. Is it possible for them to be any more obvious about their intentions?

He looked at Jane, who had also stopped walking.

“Go on,” she said, shooing him away. “We will give you some space. And for heaven’s sake, dear brother, do keep your jaw off of the ground.”

And with that, Jane gave him a gentle nudge toward Lady Agnes.

He cleared his throat and walked the few steps toward her.

“I apologize for my sisters,” he said, massaging the back of his neck with his hand. “They are always very excited when we have guests.”

Lady Agnes gazed sweetly at him with her doe-like eyes. “Oh, not at all. I have no sisters of my own. Their company is most delightful.”

“You are too kind,” he said, and taking a step closer to her, he said in an undertone, “They are about as easy to get along with as porcupines on occasion. My brother and I do all we can to ensure that we keep our distance.”

“Well, perhaps they will treat me differently for I am not as familiar with them.”

“A wise woman,” he replied. “Well, shall we see these fabled rose gardens that my sisters have no doubt made you to believe were only second to the Garden of Eden itself?”

She seemed pleased to be able to wander among the blooms, and he was pleased to be able to watch her in a very polite way.

She was incredibly gentle, in every motion, in every touch. The way she handled the roses was the way he imagined she would hold a priceless crystal ornament or the crown jewels themselves. She looked at him just as gently, as if he was a tender soul and needed extreme care.

He had to admit, he was rather enjoying it.

She told him many stories as they wandered around the gardens. She was neither forceful nor dull, and he found himself intrigued and listening intently as she spoke. She spoke of her childhood with four brothers, all older than she. She told him all about the little village just outside the estate that she loved to visit, where she would play with the other children and spend most of her days beside the lake. Her favorite topic of conversation was about her prized stallion. She had raised him from a foal, and she was quite proud of his breeding. His lineage alone had produced some of the nation’s strongest horses, some even going on to be military horses.

“If it would not be a problem, I would very much like to bring him to live at the manor when we are married.”

The statement caught him off guard entirely, and it drew him back to the reality in which he resided.

“I…I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked.

“I would like to bring Obadiah to the manor so I may continue to ride him and take care of him.” She explained with her eyebrows raised waiting for an answer, apparently unaffected by his inward musings. “If that would be all right with you, of course.”

She paused, and John didn’t answer.

Looking defeated, she spoke once again. “I’m sure my parents would take very good care of him when I leave if that is what you prefer.”

“No,” he said rather hastily, and held up his hands. “No,” he attempted again, a little more gently. “He would be welcome at the stables of the manor. The house will not be mine alone, after all. It will be just as much yours as it will be mine.”

A silence fell between them. She did not seem displeased, but he did not know what else to say. Discussing the marriage in such a frank and open fashion made it that much more surreal to him, and as he looked at the woman who was to be his wife, a deep and restless anxiety gripped his heart, and he desperately wished to be alone with his thoughts.

“Well, thank you,” she replied, a little more reserved that time.

It surprised him how much talking about the marriage with her, the woman who he was to marry, startled him. What did one say to one’s betrothed, especially when they did not know a thing about each other?

As if she was thinking this very same thing, she turned her attention back to him and away from the roses once more.

“Tell me, Lord Bridgewater. What is something that you dream of?”

He looked at her very closely. He did not think that she was mocking him in any way, nor did he think that she was being unnecessarily wistful. In fact, her gaze was steady, and he felt welcomed by it.

“Something that I dream of…”

They continued to walk among the fragrant blooms, the sunlight making them even more brilliantly vibrant than they usually were beneath a clouded sky. His hands were clasped behind his back, hers in front of herself. They were a lovely image, the two of them together, and the importance of the moment was not lost on him.

He stopped walking, and looked out over the garden, her face in his periphery. He wondered how best to answer her question. She would know all of his hopes and dreams eventually, he realized, and the thought excited him. But how much would perhaps frighten her? How much was appropriate to share with her now?

“I dream of a grand library one day, one full of books that I have accumulated from many places and over many years. I dream of…” he stopped himself, and a quiet laugh escaped him.

“What is it?” she asked, taking a step toward him.

“You will think me very strange,” he said. He wondered what had compelled him to share something so small in the grand scheme of life, and yet also…

“I believe there is very little that would cause me to think that you were strange, my lord."

He appreciated her encouraging words. “All right. Well, one day, I hope to write a book.”

“A book?” she said, and the excitement and delight in her voice was obvious. “Why, that is an admirable dream.”

“You truly think so?” he said, relieved that she had responded in such a way.

“I do,” she said, her face settling into a thoughtful expression.

“And what about you, Lady Agnes?” he asked as they fell into step beside each other once more. “What is a dream that you have?”

She was looking at her feet, yet she seemed pleased.

“I dream of a family,” she began simply. “I dream of being a good, humble wife to you and of children enough to fill the estate. I believe in a good, simple life, and I look forward to that reality greatly.”

She turned to look into his eyes expectantly, and he felt a very heavy weight in his chest, as if he had swallowed a stone.

She wished for him to respond to what she had said, and despite the knowledge, he was unable to come to a conclusion of what to say in reply.

“I…” he began, feeling his hands clenched together begin to perspire.

“There you two are!”

They looked up to see Beatrice winding her way through the roses toward them.

“I was beginning to think that you had left the estate!” she giggled, and she crossed the distance and laced her arm through Lady Agnes’s.

She beamed at her brother. “Mother was calling for you. Dinner is to be ready soon, and you know how she is if it gets cold.”

And before either of them had another chance to speak, Beatrice had pulled Lady Agnes up along the path and back toward the manor.

He lingered for another moment, her voice playing in his mind like a familiar and deeply echoing song. It moved his heart that her dream was so pure. She longed to be a good wife and mother. These were admirable things, especially since he had said his dream was to have a library and to write a book.

How ridiculous could he have been? He had every opportunity to impress her, to woo her, and he had not. Certainly his dreams were decent, but they were not what she had so willingly shared.

And yet, he realized, her dream was sobering for him as well. He had never taken the idea of marriage lightly, but having it thrust upon him so openly, and from the woman he would marry no less, made it that much more real and that much more frightening. He had always thought that marriage would come to him later in life, that it was always in the future, never in the present. It was here, and it was real, and it was something that he had to face sooner or later. He was not sure that he was ready, and that thought scared him more than anything.

Scolding himself and his stupidity, he followed his sister and Lady Agnes, who had taken to looking over her shoulder at him, but he kept his distance, for the fear in his heart was gripping him like a weighted stone, uncomfortable and ever present.