As Richard walked away from the little group assembled in the hall, Lady Hazel looked at her daughter and crooked a finger.
This was exactly what Holly had hoped to avoid, but she had no choice other than to follow Lady Hazel into a small room that she had claimed as hers many years ago. A bright fire burned, and there were a couple of books open on the lovely desk, along with paper and pens. It had always held the scent of her mother, something calming and welcoming.
“Sit, my dear. It’s cold outside and you look a bit chilled.”
Since she’d left her coat and gloves with a maid, and the room was comfortably warm, Holly was under no illusions that Lady Hazel’s question was simply to ascertain the temperature of her skin.
“Thank you, Mama,” she replied dutifully. “It certainly is nice and cosy in here.” She walked to the window. “It seems we might be in for the first big storm of the winter.”
“Indeed.”
“Good thing the greenery is indoors. It would have been a nuisance to send anyone out to lop branches already covered in snow. And think of the mess…”
“Holly.”
“Yes, Mama?”
“Sit. I wish to hear the story of Mr Richard Hawkesbury.” She folded her hands and gave her daughter “the look”, which was only used on serious occasions. “The real story, if you please, not that delightfully smooth, and completely improbable, pieceof fiction you related so glibly in the hall.” Lady Hazel shook her head a little. “It will do nicely for the staff, at present. But I must know the truth.”
Outgunned, and accepting that this was truly a matter outside her experience, Holly nodded. “It is not really my story to relate, Mama,” she began. “So would it sound silly if I asked you to keep what I am about to tell you to yourself, for the time being?”
“I’m not sure,” answered her mother. “But you are not a young woman who would ask that lightly, so—with some hesitation, I’ll admit—I will agree. Unless I hear something that I believe your Papa should know about.”
Holly bit her lip. “I trust you, Mama, so I will allow you to make that decision. But please understand, I promised Mr Hawkesbury it would remain a secret for the moment…until we learn more.”
“It sounds intriguing,” smiled Lady Hazel. “So I await the telling with eager anticipation.” She leaned back in her chair comfortably.
“Would you like tea before we begin?”
“No thank you. I’m ready to hear all about it.Now.”
The last word was emphasised quite firmly, and Holly sighed. Something inside her told her it was the right thing to do, even though Richard would probably be concerned.
“Very well then.” She took a deep breath and began the story, telling of what she’d seen through the telescope, how she’d found him injured on the bank, and what he’d related about the fight and the villains who had set upon him and stolen his bag.
Her mother listened, her face betraying little of her reactions to the tale, only firming slightly as Holly told of how she’d discovered him, and the extent of his injuries.
“He could have been killed,” said Lady Hazel, anger in her voice. “On our land, too.”
“He was very lucky,” Holly agreed. “But he has no idea who the villains were. He didn’t recognise either of them. And without his bag…” She sighed. “He thinks that getting it away from him was the reason for the attack, and that was all they wanted. But I think they thought he was dead when they left him, Mama. I really do.”
“So he was on his way to see Sir Duncan? On business?”
“Yes. That’s what he said.”
“And you don’t know what this document was?”
“He won’t tell me. Apparently, it concerns a confidential matter that Sir Duncan had requested from his firm of solicitors.”
“Hmm.” Lady Hazel rose and began to pace, a habit she had when thinking something over.
Holly let her continue for a while, thankful that her recitation hadn’t brought any wrath down on her head. “Obviously, they wanted the documents, Mama, and were prepared to do anything to get them.”
“You really think they left him for dead?”
“I do, or at the very least believing he would die overnight.”
“The horse was gone too?”
