Chapter Four

In Which An Unexpected Guest is Introduced to the Residents of Forest Grange

Holly was as good as her word, and before Richard knew it, he was repacking her bag of supplies (and helping himself to a crunchy biscuit at the same time). This process was clearly familiar to her, since she had the fire almost out, the room tidied, and the mugs they’d used were already put away.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have chance to read,” he said, nodding at the book in her hand. “In fact, I should apologise for this entire mess.”

“Why?” She picked up her gloves. “None of this is your fault.”

“I agree with that, but you have become involved. That is not something I’d have intended, I can assure you.”

“I believe you. But then again, it was simple chance that I chose the right moment to look through my telescope, and sheer luck you were still alive when I followed up on that incident. So let’s say it was all fortunate coincidence and leave it there.” She walked to the door and opened it, waiting for him to pass through.

After he’d done so, she shut and locked it, returning the key to where she’d found it in the eaves.

“Do you not worry about someone breaking in?”

Her eyebrows rose. “This isn’t London, Mr Hawkesbury. And if anyone needed shelter that badly, they would be welcome to it. There’s nothing of value in there.”

He merely nodded and shouldered her bag. “I should follow you, since I have no idea where we’re going, and with the snow, I might miss the path and fall down again.”

“If you do, I promise I won’t hit you on the head,” she chuckled, then cleared her throat awkwardly.“Erm, that was a poor attempt at a jest, and I apologise.”

She started walking, then stopped, and he nearly strode right into her.

Skidding to a halt, he blinked. “What?”

“Your bag. The one you don’t have, and should. We’ll have to say it was tied to your saddle, I suppose. But I wish you would give me an idea of what was in it.”

“I’m a solicitor, Miss Trease. Other than a change of clothing, what would you expect me to carry?”

She trudged on again, seeming quite sure of her footing despite the thickening coat of snow on the path. “Well, papers, I would imagine. Documents. Some sort of important document.” She turned, nearly knocking him over. “A will. You’re going to amend Sir Duncan’s will. I hope not in favour of that man Blackstone…”

He shook his head. “You have an overly dramatic turn of mind, Ma’am. It was not a will.”

She sighed and headed back to the path, only to stop again.

“Aha.”

“What now?”

“I think,” she began, “I think it was something to do with Blackstone trying to establish a claim to Rosewood Park because he’s Sir Duncan’s illegitimate offspring.”

Richard was hard-pressed not to burst out laughing. But he managed and merely shook his head. “You, Miss Trease, must read entirely too many dramatic novels.”

“I read very few,” she announced, chin high. “And even then, only the good ones.”

“I see.” He skidded a little, and a grunt emerged as he caught his balance on a branch and tugged on the gash in his side.

“Are you all right? Did you open that wound?” She was at his side immediately, tugging him to a stop.

“I’m quite well. I merely slipped for a moment, and it pulled for a second.”

“We’ll get it properly tended to at the house,” she promised. “Our housekeeper has years of experience tending to all sorts of minor injuries.”

“Got into trouble a lot, did you?” He had to ask.

“Not just me,” she replied. “I have one brother, Ashe, he’s the eldest, an older sister, Cherry, and a not-identical twin sister, Willow. So you can imagine the sorts of injuries four children can experience, especially when loose in the woods in the summer.”

“What’s a not-identical twin?”

Her head turned and her eyebrows rose in disbelief. “It is just what it sounds like. I have a twin, but we’re not identical.”

“Oh.” Richard battled the urge to brush snowflakes off her shoulders.

“It’s much easier to say she’s my sister, but then there are all the ‘who’s the eldest?’ sorts of prying questions.”

He grinned. “Let me guess. Those would come from older ladies anxious to know which one of you is the most eligible?”

She sighed. “You are indeed correct. It is really quite lowering to be regarded as nothing more than breeding stock.”

“You are not alone in that situation, Miss Trease. I have met more than a few eligible ladies in my time, and yes, they were indeed paraded around very much like fine horses at Tattersalls, only with fortunes attached, rather than reins.”

She laughed, a lovely sound muffled a little by the large snowflakes. “Now that would be something, wouldn’t it? Young ladies led into Almack’s by reins, in order of rank, fortune, and bloodlines.”

He shook his head, enjoying her, watching her. She almost glowed with life, he thought, rather whimsically for him. Her intelligence was obvious, her interest in the world engaging, and she had a unique kind of beauty that would stand out in any crowd.

“Have you been to Almack’s?” He had to ask.

“No.” The reply was firm. “I have no desire to go to London, and although Mama is rather disappointed, she has promised not to press me about it.”

“And yet someday you will wed, will you not?”

“I don’t know.” She straightened her shoulders. “I haven’t really thought much about it.”

“Your not-twin sister…is she married?”

Holly stopped and turned around, facing him. “What is all this interest about our marital states?”

“I’m just making casual conversation, Miss Trease. You are extending the hand of hospitality to someone you’ve just met, so it behooves me to learn a little something about your family before you introduce me.”

“Hmph.” The sound was an interesting blend of irritation and disbelief. “Well, for your edification, my oldest brother, Ashe, is married, and he and his wife live in their own apartments here. At the moment, they’re visiting Cherry, my older sister, who wed the Duke of Belcaster not long ago. The plan is for everyone to come here for Christmas. And Willow…” she paused. “Actually, I’m not sure where Willow is.” She shrugged. “But I’m sure she’ll be here before the day itself.”

“Christmas,” muttered Richard. “God, I’d almost forgotten.”

“I assume you have family you’ll be seeing at that time?”

“Er, yes. Possibly. I think so. I’m not sure.”

Fortunately, before Holly could pursue that line of questioning—as he felt absolutely sure she would—lights appeared through the now heavily falling snow.

“Ah. Would this be our destination?”

“It is indeed,” she said. “Welcome to Forest Grange, Mr Hawkesbury. Be prepared for a thorough inquisition by my Mama.”

He sighed. “Of course, Miss Trease. Whatever you say.”

*~~*~~*

Entering through the back door to the kitchen, Holly was glad to feel the warmth on her face, and even happier when she heard the solid wooden thunk behind Richard. The silence that followed their entrance, however, was somewhat disconcerting.

“Don’t worry, everyone. He’s a guest of mine.” Holding her chin high, she swanned past the staff, all of whom—from scullery maid to head footman—were staring wide-eyed at the two of them.

Hoping he was still behind her, she climbed the stairs to the foyer and found herself face-to-face with Ferguson.

“Miss Holly,” he said, his voice ringing through the hall. “Your absence has been remarked upon by your Mama, who was looking for you earlier.” He paused. “And who might this gentleman be?”

She beckoned to Richard, and he moved to her side. “Ferguson, this is Mr Richard Hawkesbury. He was on his way to Rosewood Park when he had an accident in the forest and lost his mount at the same time. Fortunately, his injuries weren’t life-threatening, and he managed to find the Nook. He is going to need a room, a change of clothes, and a visit from Mrs Trenchard, since he took a nasty hit on his head and there’s a gash in his side.”

Ferguson blinked, then nodded at Richard. “An unfortunate incident, sir. But a happy conclusion, one must hope.” He turned as a footman entered. “Clarence, would you ask young Charles to attend me?”

“Sir.” Clarence bowed and vanished.

Richard was impressed. Not only was this a beautiful and well-kept house, but it was also warm and welcoming in an odd way.

“Well, there you are.” A woman’s voice echoed around the hall.

“Mama.”

He could hear Holly’s indrawn breath.

“Mama, this is Mr Richard Hawkesbury.”

A beautiful woman walked from a doorway toward him. Clearly older, but elegant and with a face that would never really age, she smiled, a question in her eyes. He managed a cautious bow.

“He had an accident in the forest, Mama,” said Holly, before he could speak, repeating her carefully created story of his arrival. “With no horse and a head injury, he managed to make his way to the Nook. But obviously he couldn’t stay there, so I brought him here.”

“Quite right of you, darling.” She turned to Richard. “Welcome to Forest Grange, Mr Hawkesbury. I’m saddened to hear of your unpleasant experience, but I’m sure we can set things to rights for you.”

Richard managed a smile. “My Lady, I must apologise for such an unseemly arrival, and for my deplorable appearance. But as Miss Trease has explained, I found myself quite at an impasse. I am very grateful for her assistance, and for your kindness in taking in a lost traveller.”

The smile he received in return warmed his heart. “Not lost now, Mr Hawkesbury. Not lost now.”

“He has sustained some injuries, as I said, Mama. His head and his side. Mrs Trenchard should take a look at both of them.”

“Indeed yes,” she turned to Ferguson just as a young footman arrived. “And here’s Charles. I’ll wager Ferguson will want him to take care of Mr Hawkesbury?”

“Indeed, my Lady,” answered the butler. “I’m thinking perhaps the Vine suite? It has recently been cleaned, and might suit Mr Hawkesbury during his tenure with us?”

“Perfect. Yes indeed.” She turned back to Richard. “If you’ll go with Charles, sir, he’ll see you settled, and Mrs Trenchard will be up directly to tend to your injuries.”

“My Lady, I don’t think I need…”

She held up her hand. “None of that. You are now at Forest Grange, in our care. Be a good lad and go along with Charles.”

She turned to Ferguson. “I believe some of Ashe’s clothes might fit, since Mr Hawkesbury’s need a bit of cleaning.”

“I was about to suggest just that, my Lady.”

Feeling that things were completely running away from him, Richard looked helplessly at Holly, who simply shrugged, then whispered, “Mama is now in charge. Best do as she says, because she always gets her way.”

“I heard that,” laughed Lady Hazel. “And she’s right. Go and rest, young man. You look exhausted. Then, when you’re refreshed, you can tell us your story.” She glanced at Holly, then back at Richard, her gaze unsettlingly penetrating. “Because I’m quite convinced you have one.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” he bowed again.

Young Charles was at his side, but at that moment the front door opened and what looked like a shrubbery staggered in.

“Oh good grief,” mumbled Ferguson.

“How lovely,” said Lady Hazel, clapping her hands in glee. “The Christmas decorations are here.”

“Sir,” Charles gently tugged on Richard’s sleeve. “We should be going, sir.” He looked at the men carrying what must be half the forest into the front hall and then back at Richard. “Now, sir.”

There was obvious and abject terror in the lad’s eyes. Biting his lip against a laugh, Richard managed a nod. “Very well. Lead the way.”

A barely audible “Thank God” was the only response.

Making a hasty departure, Charles led Richard up the impressive staircase and along a corridor. Everything was gleaming, he noted, the scent of polish drifting on the air. A beautiful house, without a doubt, and old too, since some of the decorative pieces, ceiling frescoes and so on, looked almost medieval in style.

But it was also clearly lived in, and enjoyed, since the carpet was slightly worn, there was a pair of ladies’ boots outside one door, and several maids were singing a Christmas carol as they worked in another suite.

Up one more flight of stairs, and Charles stopped at a door, turning the handle and throwing it open with style. “Here we are, then, sir. The Vine room.”

And it lived up to its name. More of a suite than a room, Richard was delighted to see a comfortable sitting area by the windows at one end, partially screened by some sort of wrought iron trellis covered with gold-leaf vines.

The bed was huge, and the linens thick, even though there was a tidy hearth set with wood, and within moments of their arrival, Charles had a fire going.

“This is quite lovely, thank you,” said Richard, unwrapping his cloak with a breath of relief.

“I think you’ll find everything you need, sir, but ring if there’s anything else…” Charles indicated the bell pull.

A tap on the half-open door revealed a very solid woman dressed formally in a dark gown and pristine white lace collar and cap. She looked formidable, especially as she was carrying several towels and followed by a maid with a bowl of steaming hot water.

Richard gulped.

“Good afternoon, sir, I’m Mrs Trenchard, the housekeeper. Miss Holly tells me you’ve had a bit of a bother, one might say.” She walked right up to him.

He sat down on the bed, blinking. “Er…yes…”

“Well then, let’s take a look and see what we can do, shall we?”

With that maternal order, Richard surrendered, and after quite some time of occasionally painful prodding, washing, and bandaging, declared himself comfortable at last.

“All right, Mr Richard,” said Mrs Trenchard (the forceful persuasion she’d used to get him out of his shirt had reduced him to the age of nine, and eliminated any formality), “the one thing you need right now is a good nap. So I’m going to ask Charles if he’ll come back in an hour and wake you.” She consulted the clock on the bureau. “That will give you time to dress and join the family for lunch.”

“That sounds perfect, Mrs Trenchard. Thank you for…” he waved his hand vaguely at his head.

“Happy to help, sir, and between you and me, I’ve taken care of bigger and worse bumps on the head than that one, I can tell you.”

Richard couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m sure you have.”

“That’s good. To see you laughing means you’re well on the road to recovery. So rest now, sir.”

He nodded, and under her watchful eye, pushed the covers aside and lay down with a sigh of genuine relief.

“One hour, Charles,” reminded Mrs Trenchard. “Now you get a good nap, Mr Richard.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I promise.”

She picked up her bowl and his garments, and departed, followed by the maid and Charles. At last, the room was quiet, and Richard found that he was, in fact, quite warm and tired out.

His last thought before sleep caught up with him, was that the only thing the housekeeper hadn’t done was tell him he was a good boy. Which was a shame, because he rather thought he had been…