“Embarrassing?”
“Oh, most definitely. First, I should not have gone out in the carriage alone. Carrie was supposed to come with me, but we quarreled, you see, and I got into a snit, and—” Juliana stopped herself. She was beginning to prattle; it must be the effects of the sun. “Second, if I had not been watching the swallows instead of the road, I would have seen the hole before my wheel decided to explore its depths—very scatterbrained of me. And third, if I return home, soiled and in the company of a gentleman with no acquaintance to the family, I will be returned to Hartwell forthwith in shame. All possibility of a Season and trip to London will be gone completely.”
“Well, that is quite an embarrassing list. I do see the problem.”
“Is there someone down there?” another voice asked.
The head with the blue eyes disappeared, but Juliana could hear a muffled conversation.
“Yes, but she does not want to be rescued by us. She says she needs a farmer.”
“What?”
Juliana leaned back slightly to see if she could catch a glimpse of the other gentleman, but that dislodged a cloud of dirt.
“Achoo.”
“Bless you,” one of the voices called from above before continuing the conversation. “Yes, it seems that we are not the sort—”
Juliana’s nose began to itch again. She scrunched it up and then wiggled it, trying to stop another burst. To no avail. “Achoo.” This time her left hand jerked with the force of the exhaled air and broke several of the roots to which she was clinging. Slowly, they began to unravel, lengthening and shifting Juliana away from the cliff’s side, out into the air.
“Oh no.” She let go of that handful and reached back toward the rocks for another, hopefully stronger, group of roots. But she was not so lucky. Twice more she grabbed, praying that the tangle in her right hand would not get the same idea.
Just as she had decided the situation was now possibly more dangerous than embarrassing, a hand grabbed her flailing wrist. Relief flooded through her, and her racing heart slowed just a touch.
“Give me your other arm.”
“I beg your pardon? You cannot expect me to let go.”
“Well, if I am to pull you up, you are going to have to.”
“Oh dear, oh dear. I really do not want to.”
“I understand completely. But I am afraid we have no length of rope, no farmer is in sight, and your predicament seems to be proceeding into the realm of peril. Not to worry, though. I have this arm firmly in my grasp, my feet are being held—sat upon, to be exact, so I will not topple over—and all that is left for you to do is to let go. I will grab your other arm, you will close your eyes, and up you will come. Back onto terra firma.”
“This is terra firma.” Juliana pointed with her nose to the rugged cliff wall.
“Yes, but I doubt very much that you want to stay there.”
“I like the idea of dangling in the air so much less.”
The head nodded sympathetically. “Life is full of these trials, I am afraid.”
“They seem to follow me around. I am a magnet for trouble.”
“That is sad news. However, perhaps it would be best to discuss your penchant for interesting situations when we are on the same ground level—say, up here. It would make the discussion much easier to conduct.”
“In other words, I should stop dillydallying.”
“Exactly so.”
“I really do not want to do this.”
“I understand.”
Juliana took a deep breath. “I am only eighteen, you know.”
“I did not.”
“That is much too young to die, do you not think?”
“I quite agree, which is why we are going to do everything we can to help you make it to nineteen.”
“All right, I will do it.”
“Brave girl.”
Juliana felt anything but brave. Her knees were starting to wobble and her hands had decided to shake. She took several deep breaths, counted to three in her head, and then let go.