Page 12 of Johan. (Van Den Bosch #8)
Hannah
The Uber slows to a gentle stop at the gates of the estate as the sun starts to settle behind the rolling hills, casting long shadows and painting the sky in hues of deep orange and pink.
It's close to five pm, and November’s chill is particularly pronounced as dusk approaches, with a breeze rustling through the bare branches of the ancient oaks lining the driveway.
As I step out of the car, my breath visible in the cool air, I take a moment to appreciate the serene beauty of the estate.
The stone walls of the house, aged and dignified, stand proudly against the sprawling backdrop of the Cotswolds countryside.
The estate is enveloped in a quiet peace, the kind that speaks of centuries of history and memories embedded in its very soil.
Oma Margaret, already anticipating my arrival, is nestled in her favorite armchair beside the fireplace.
The room exudes a warmth that goes beyond the physical, filled with rich tapestry and the loving spirit of my grandmother.
As I close the door behind me, leaving the November chill outside, I'm enveloped in the embrace of a home that feels timeless, ready to share everything with the woman who has always been my anchor.
“Hannah, my dear, you’ve arrived just in time,” she says with a warm smile, enveloping me in a soft embrace that smells faintly of lavender and sage, scents that remind me of many childhood summers spent under her watchful and nurturing gaze.
“Just in time for a cup of tea?” I suggest, returning her smile as we pull away from the hug.
“That, and perhaps a bit of wisdom for whatever is weighing on your heart,” she replies with a knowing look, guiding me back towards the sitting area by the fireplace. The crackle of the fire adds a comforting soundtrack to the room, filled with gentle warmth.
We settle down into our respective seats—me on the plush couch and Oma Margaret returning to her armchair. She reaches for the teapot on the small table beside her, an ornate piece painted with delicate roses, and pours us each a cup. The tea is a soothing blend, perfect for the chilly evening.
I take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the tea seep into my hands through the porcelain cup. “Speaking of wisdom, there’s something important I need to tell you,” I start, my voice steady despite the turbulence inside.
“Go on, dear. I’m here to listen,” she encourages, her voice gentle.
“The reason why Johan has been forced into this engagement is because…” I want to tell her the truth, I truly do, but I feel the words stick in my mouth, unable to leave.
Oma waits for a moment, looking at me intently. “Because…” she urges.
I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. I’m not ready to tell her about my kleptomania and the stolen artifacts, but I know I owe her the truth—maybe not all of it yet, but enough to show I trust her.
“Because Astrid knows about us—about me and Johan,” I finally fess up. “If he doesn’t go through with the engagement, not only could he lose his position, but she threatened to expose our relationship, claiming it could tarnish his reputation and possibly end his academic career.”
Oma sets her own cup down with a clink, her expression hardening with resolve. “And what does Johan say about all this? Surely, he must see this as coercion.”
“He does, and he’s torn. He doesn’t love her. But he’s caught between his feelings and the threat to his future.” My voice cracks slightly, the stress of the situation catching up with me.
“What about Ludovic? Does he know about the two of you?”
“I don’t think so, but he would do anything to keep his precious daughter happy, though. Including getting Johan fired and his reputation destroyed.”
Oma reaches out across the space between us, her hand covering mine.
“With the father she has, I’m not surprised that Astrid turned out the way she is.
” She pauses for a moment, pondering further.
“Is he still pursuing Ubar? If I recall properly, Ludovic was obsessed with the lost city my sister was studying.”
“He is. And now he’s turned to Johan to go there.”
Her eyes widen in surprise at my answer.
“Ludovic is playing the long game. Keeping Johan cornered and under his thumb.” She takes another sip of her tea, her mind reeling.
“His true love has always been treasure hunting. All that Johan needs to do is play along until he gathers evidence about who Ludovic truly is. Then, and only then, he’d be able to get him arrested and free himself from this engagement.
” Her words are wise, as they always are, tinged with the experience of someone who has seen much of the world’s darker corners yet still believes in the light.
“But remember, my dear,” she continues, her grip tightening reassuringly, “no matter what happens, you have a family and a home here that will support you. You are not alone in this.”
The assurance in her voice, the steadfast presence she offers, steadies me.
As we sit together, the fire casting a warm glow around us, I feel a renewed sense of resolve.
No matter what challenges Johan and I may face, Oma’s unwavering strength, love, and steadfast support will be our guiding light, illuminating even the darkest paths ahead.
As we sit together, the gentle crackle of the fire provides a soothing undertone to our serious conversation. Suddenly, though, there’s a soft knock at the door. One of the staff steps in quietly, bowing slightly as he announces, “The Honorable Johan Bentinck has arrived, Lady Margaret.”
The title catches me completely off guard. The Honorable? I stifle a chuckle, momentarily thrown by the formality.
But before I can fully process it, my heart leaps, a swirl of excitement and nerves taking over.
I rise to my feet, trying to steady myself as the door slowly opens and Johan steps into the room.
His presence shifts the atmosphere immediately—an unmistakable tension fills the space, yet there’s a sense of relief as familiar faces gather in this safe, supportive haven.
Johan’s eyes meet mine briefly, a storm of emotions passing between us before he turns to greet Oma. “Good evening, Lady Margaret,” he says with a respectful nod, his voice carrying a nervous energy that belies his usual composure.
“Johan, my boy, come in,” Oma responds, her tone warm. She rises from her seat with regal poise, observing Johan with an insightful gaze that seems to see right through him. “Hannah told me everything about your engagement to Astrid. My most sincere condolences.”
“Oh, thank you,” Johan answers with a small chuckle. They shake hands in a quite formal fashion, which is quite odd to me.
“If I may give you a piece of advice,” Oma continues, “play the long game with Ludovic, go with him on his expedition, gather all the evidence you need that he’s a shameless treasure hunter, and then disgrace him and throw him under the bus.”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do. This plan seems the only sensible way to take him down.”
“It is. But be careful,” Oma warns seriously. “My sister tried to gather evidence but was caught beforehand. I do not know how she escaped his grip, but if she’s still hiding, I assume it wasn’t easy.”
Johan, sensing the gravity of the situation, manages a nervous nod, and then his eyes dart back to me, seeking reassurance. I give him a small, encouraging smile, my own heart still racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Before the silence can stretch uncomfortably, Oma breaks the tension with a directness that’s characteristic of her. “Fear not, Johan, I know what you both are up to; no need to play pretend here,” she says, her voice firm yet not without kindness.
His nervous chuckle turns into a more genuine, albeit still anxious, laugh. “I suppose that does make things simpler,” he admits, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he accepts the reality of our situation now laid bare.
“I might not be thrilled about my granddaughter being involved with an engaged man, but given the circumstances of your engagement, I will make an exception.” Oma pauses, her expression softening.
“Now, let’s head to dinner. We can continue our discussion more comfortably there.
” She moves past us, her stride confident, each step measured and deliberate as she leads the way out of the living room.
As we follow her to the dining room, the grandeur of the estate feels less imposing, more like a stronghold where we can strategize and find solace.
The dining room is elegantly set, candles flickering gently on the table, casting soft lights and shadows that dance across the fine china and crystal.
Sitting down to dinner, the earlier tension slowly dissolves, replaced by the comforting rituals of passing dishes and pouring wine.
After a few moments of comfortable small talk, Oma shifts the conversation toward Johan, her voice gentle but deliberate.
“So, Johan, tell me, how is your family handling all of this? Surely, they are aware of the entire situation.”
Johan pauses, setting down his glass with a measured deliberation as though the answer weighs on him.
He glances at me briefly, then back to Oma, his eyes darkening with the burden he’s about to share.
“It's… complicated.” He takes a deep breath, the heaviness in the air palpable. “Ludovic bought up my family’s debts. My father, unfortunately, has been mismanaging our finances for years. We’re practically bankrupt now, and Ludovic took advantage of that.
He owns our debts and controls our fate, just like he intended. ”