“Us were heading back, your lordship… There were gunshot and then another. Thos lost his seat and Mrs Locke’s mare took off like the devil.” Tears clotted his lashes. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought to go after her but Thos wouldn’t wake and…”
Ernest’s roaring heart stuttered as Redmond lowered Thos to the cobbles, blood smothering his pale-blond hair.
“Where? Where exactly were you when the gunshot went off?”
“I dunno…” he sobbed.
“Yes, you do, Daniel. Think. Think hard.” He clasped the groom by the cheeks and held his gaze. “You did right. Thos can be cared for now. But we need to find Mrs Locke.”
“I…” He scrunched his eyes shut. Opened them with a startle. “I’d not long told her to turn at the twisted yew, and us were by that clearing with the tumbled stone wall.”
“On the edge of the forest? Near the old manor house?”
A nod. “Her horse… It went off along that wall… I couldn’t…” His eyes slid shut, shoulders slumped.
“You’ve done well, Daniel.” He patted his arm, swivelled to Redmond. “Thos?”
“Bad gash, so he has, but he’s breathing fine. I’ll get him to Mrs Pettifer.”
Ernest nodded. “I’m going after Mrs Locke. Get a search party together. Daniel will tell you more, and we’ll meet at the old manor if there’s no sign of her in two hours.” He strode to Stanley who at least was tacked but cursed that he’d already ridden him so hard.
But his stalwart gelding pawed the ground, knowing he was needed, so with a whispered apology, Ernest leaped back into the saddle and snapped the reins.
“I’m coming for you, Hebe,” he whispered. “Don’t move.”
18
SEEK AND YE SHALL FIND
Acrow’s caw.
A rustle of leaves.
Then deep silence.
Unsure where she lay, Hebe warily shifted but a jagged pain tore through her lower back, a pulsing ache at the side of her head, and she stilled once more.
Slowly, she hoisted one eyelid.
Dank leaves and twisted ivy sharpened into focus, a bronzed beetle with sharp horns scuttling. She was sprawled on her stomach with twigs pressed into her cheek, forehead stinging.
Memory stirred.
The gunshot and her fall…
Swallowing, she placed both hands to the damp earth and pushed herself up. Her spine protested but no worse, and the ache to her head was dull but manageable.
She twisted, flung herself to her back and sought the sky.
The tree canopy was so dense that light hardly penetrated, the branches and leaves black and obscure as though poisoned with darkness.
Cautiously, she sat up, testing wrists and whirling booted ankles but all functioned as it should.
It became apparent that Mrs Salter had leaped a deep trench, causing Hebe to tumble into it, and the sole highlight was that it no longer held water, just fetid leaves and invading tree roots.
Tiny prickles scuttled over her wrist and she shrieked. Then glared at the offending beetle.
Insects didn’t frighten her per se, but she’d rather they not wander over her skin in a proprietorial manner, so she tentatively rose, boots sinking into the boggy ground.
