“Begging your pardon, my lady. This just arrived, delivered by one of the inspector’s men.”
Georgina accepted the folded paper. The wax snapped beneath her thumb, too loud in the still room. A tightness coiled behind her ribs before she read a single line. The parchment was heavier than it should have been, the seal pressed deep, as if meant to remind her who held authority here. She unfolded the letter and read.
Lady Ravenstock,
During my inspection this morning, I observed signs of instability in one of the secondary passages on your Ravenstock seam. Though the foreman assures me the risks are manageable, I would be remiss if I did not bring this directly to your attention.
Given the sensitivities of recent events and your own understandable vigilance, I advise immediate caution in that section. It may be prudent to restrict access until further reinforcement is completed.
I remain at your disposal should you wish to discuss this in more detail.
In service of your safety and the mine’s success,
Julian Everly
The words were measured, every line perfectly courteous. Too courteous. The sort of tone a man used when he wished to appear helpful while tightening the reins. It was not a warning she heard in those sentences, but control, politely veiled. Without a word, she handed the paper to Honoria.
“Julian Everly,” Georgina read aloud. “Have you ever met him?” she asked.
“No. This is the first I’ve heard his name.” Honoria read in silence, her brow furrowing. When she finished, she set the note aside with deliberate care. “Two men have already died,” she said softly. “Rowland. And Hawkesbury’s father. Does Everly think you would allow a third?”
“No,” Georgina replied. Her voice was calm, but the edge in it was unmistakable. “I won’t stand by.”
“Good.” Honoria’s gaze sharpened. “The Ravenstock seam may carry your name, but it runs beneath Hawkesbury land. He has a stake in this and in you. You must tell him.”
No more delays. No more caution masked as courtesy. “I’ll draft him a letter at once.” Georgina started to rise, but Honoria reached out and caught her hand, firm and insistent. Their eyes met.
“Mrs. Hemsley,” Honoria said, never turning away, “send the coachman for Lord Hawkesbury. Now.”
The housekeeper nodded once and vanished, her footsteps brisk and sure on the polished floor.
They returned to the window, standing together in silence. Thistime, they weren’t watching someone go. They were sending for him.
Outside, the coachman swung into the saddle and took off down the lane. His coat snapped behind him as the wind rose, and in seconds, he was gone.
“If Everly, or whoever guides him, thinks I can be frightened into silence,” Georgina said quietly, “they’ve chosen the wrong woman.” Georgina glanced down at the folded note again, her fingertips brushing its edge. She shook her head. “I will not let them rob me again.”
Honoria laid a hand on her arm, steady, grounding. “No,” she agreed. “You will not.”
The last echo of hooves faded into the wind. The house stilled again, but Georgina did not. Her resolve was no longer forming. It was set.
Georgina did not return to her desk. She could not sit idle. Instead, she and Honoria lingered near the window, their eyes drawn to the road as though sheer will might hasten Alex’s return.
“He’ll need twenty minutes, no more,” Georgina said quietly, her gaze fixed on the bend in the lane.
Mrs. Bainbridge glanced toward the window and then rose, brushing her gloves clean of imaginary dust. “I ought to go before my pupils mount a full rebellion.”
Georgina turned to her, a slight shake of the head. “Would you stay?”
That was all she said. Honoria held her gaze for a moment, then gave a single nod.
Honoria set her gloves aside. “Of course.” She did not sit but moved toward the hearth to give Georgina the window and the quiet. No more words were needed.
The sun slipped westward, gilding the fields in brittle fading light. Shadows stretched long across the gravel drive, inching toward the door as though they, too, felt the urgency tightening in the air.
Georgina’s hands folded over the note, smoothing the creases she had already worn into the paper’s edge. Beneath her calm exterior, a storm gathered. It wasn’t fear or hesitation. It was readiness.
A distant sound broke the hush, sharp and certain. The steady rhythm of hooves cut through the hush, faster than any casual traveler, and headed straight for Ravenstock Hall.
