Loving Leopold

The grounds were indeed beautiful, and once off the beaten track, there were woods with ancient gnarled trees and even an abandoned folly, well in a state of disrepair. Amalie felt she could spend years exploring and never see everything. If the castle was beautiful, then the grounds surrounding it were enchanting.
After some time and mindful of the darkness beginning to set in, Amalie realized that she had completely lost track of time and had no idea of the best way back to the castle. She could see no sign of the many turrets due to the dense foliage and trees and was considering climbing up a tree a little to see if she could see them in the distance, which would lead her in the right direction to the house. She considered the embarrassment if she were to be genuinely lost and a search party had to be sent out. She couldn’t bear this thought, and fortunately, she caught sight of a massive felled tree, leaning in such a way that she should be able to raise herself several feet at least off the ground for a better view and hopefully one of the castle to show her which direction to take.
Without further ado, assuming that she was entirely alone in the dense foliage, she carefully removed her skirt, which she had just purchased the previous week in Harrods, at great personal expense. She then tucked in her voluminous underskirts, tying a knot on either side and started to clamber up the fallen tree. She suddenly heard a voice behind her, the last voice she would have chosen to hear at this particular moment. She was aware that her skirt was hanging on a tree branch, and her underskirts were drawn up in a manner that displayed her white stockinged legs, and she inwardly cringed as Leopold Blakeley came to her rescue.
“I thought it was about time I intervened Miss Bouchard, not that it hasn’t been most entertaining, but I have no need of an invalid holed up at the house for several weeks with broken bones and besides it would have spoiled the weekend for our newly betrothed couple.” Excruciatingly embarrassed, she exclaimed, “You have been watching me!” He held out his hand to help her down, but she refused to take it, clambering instead with all the dignity that her predicament would allow. He did, however, catch her at last, as she attempted to jump off the lowest stump. He held her a moment longer than was necessary and stared into her eyes so that she almost felt that she would swoon like a damsel in some Gothic novel. She caught herself in time to formally thank him, as she hastily untied and sorted her underskirts and retrieved her discarded skirt from tree branch upon which it was hanging.
Leopold Blakeley made no effort to look away while she performed the task of making herself decent and uttered quite loudly enough for her to hear. “Nice legs.” This was said more as a statement of fact than a compliment. Amalie managed the retort, “Passable at the very least.” As head held high, she went to walk away in any direction, just to get away from him. However, he bade her take his arm so he could see her home in safety. She knew that this, of course, made sense as she proceeded with her head still held high and with as much dignity as she could muster in the circumstances.
Finally, he asked, obviously quite amused by the entire escapade, “So tell me Miss Bouchard; I am intrigued. Are you in the habit of shedding your garments when you are in the country? Possibly some French custom that I haven’t heard of?” Mortified by her own stupid behavior, she turned to him and said, “I admit it was very stupid of me to get lost, but I had no idea that you were sneaking around. A gentleman would have made his presence known to a lady!” “Indeed, he would have.” Was his response and Amalie not knowing whether he was inferring that he was no gentleman or that she was no lady replied, “Please do not speak of this to anyone.” And her rescuer replied, “I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Bouchard. A gentleman would never do such a thing.”
At last, the castle was in sight, and before storming off ahead of him, she said, “Point taken Sir, but it was a very expensive skirt!” And he couldn’t resist saying, “Then I am happy that I rescued it.” Her heart was racing, and she could hear him laughing. “What must he think of me?” Spoken to herself. She didn’t realize then that Leopold Blakeley couldn’t stop thinking of her and was by this point as smitten as was she.
It was dark when they reached the house, and it seemed the entire party was assembled in the great hall, a glass of champagne in their hands. It wasn’t until this moment that Amalie realized that Leopold and his guests were in full evening attire, and she was standing there in a torn, and dirty blouse with her hair disassembled and her bonnet nowhere to be seen. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a tall, angular woman and knew it immediately to be his sister. All were looking at her in shock, and as her uncle stepped forward, Leopold approached and muttered in her ear, “You will have some explaining to do.” And to those assembled, he announced, “Miss Bouchard got lost in the woods. I merely rescued her!” and again only to her, “And her skirt.”