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Chapter 6
As soon as Hillary was inside the hospital, Lara had to cope with the fact that he was taken straight into the emergency room. Like a caged animal, she paced up and down the waiting room, desperate for any news. Every time a nurse or doctor passed the glass door, she turned hopefully, but to no avail. Bryce had rushed over to the hospital as soon as he'd heard the news, but, rather foolishly, Lara had convinced him to return to the manor. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the company, but her senses of grief and fear were so great that she couldn't bear to share them with anyone else. Hillary was her responsibility, and if he didn't pull through this, she couldn't contemplate life without him.
Just as her fear and frustration were reaching breaking point, a doctor walked through the door. He was mature and fatherly-looking, and he smiled calmly at Lara as she sprang to her feet.
"How is he?" Lara asked automatically, her heart in her mouth.
"Out of the woods for now," the doctor replied. He guided her to a chair. "He took a nasty bump to the head when he was thrown off, but thankfully, the horse didn't land on him, so apart from a cracked rib that he probably got on one of the rocks by the stream, and a sprained wrist, there's no lasting damage done."
Lara felt weak with relief. "Can I see him?" she said, her voice betraying her tumult of emotions.
"Of course; he's in a private ward off the main general ward. I'll ask the ward sister to take you to him." He patted her hand gently. "I think you've gone above and beyond the call of duty for your patient today, Lady Croft. Any butler would be grateful for your concern."
Lara was jolted back to reality for a moment. Swallowing her annoyance at the doctor's unintentional faux pas, she smiled. "Thank you, doctor."
Swiftly, the doctor led Lara to Hillary's room. She was appalled to see how pale he looked, and she fought back sudden tears as she saw his long, elegant hands, motionless on top of the hospital sheet, the right hand sporting a canula that led to a saline drip. As the doctor withdrew, Lara pulled up a chair and sat beside Hillary's bed.
"Hey you," she said softly. "I've just had a call from John in the stables. He says Arrow, much unlike you, is shaken but unhurt. You both gave me a real scare." Gently, she took hold of his left hand. "Now all you need to do is wake up, and we can both go home."
There was still no response from the man on the bed. Lara knew that, for the moment, although Hillary was unconscious, there was no imminent cause for concern. One of the first things the hospital had done was perform a CAT scan to ensure that there was no internal bleeding inside his skull. However, she also knew that the longer he lay unconscious, the greater the risk of developing cranial damage.
They stayed like that for a little while, until the ward nurse gently but firmly insisted that Lara leave for the night. Mr Hillary, the nurse insisted, needed peace and quiet. Lara had to bite back a reply that, actually, Mr Hillary would probably far rather the conversation. Even Lara could not persuade the ward staff that she needed to stay though, so, much as she hated the thought of leaving Hillary for the night, she called a taxi and returned to Croft Manor.
Entering the Manor, long after nine o'clock, Lara was struck immediately by the quiet. She had been so used, over the years, to see Hillary greeting her at the door with a smile and a word, that even Bryce's presence, while comforting, under the circumstances, was no substitute. Bryce wasn't a terrible cook, but the best he could run to at short notice was beans on toast, which Lara barely touched.
As she was picking over the soggy toast and incinerated beans at the kitchen table, Bryce spoke.
"Hillary's a strong bloke, Lara," he said softly. "If anyone can pull through this, it's him." He stood up and cleared their plates.
"I know Hillary and I don't always see eye to eye," Bryce continued, "but he's also always been good to me. And I know that he loves you."
Lara looked up, surprised. "How do you reckon that?"
Bryce sighed in mock-exasperation and brushed his unruly mop of dark hair away from his eyes. "Come on Lara, Hillary's loved you for years. He just couldn't tell you how he felt until you told him first." Giving up on his attempt to clean the plates by hand, he shrugged and put them in the dishwasher.
"When you were in Shanghai, he nearly went mad with worry; he couldn't wait to have you back on home ground." He moved from the dishwasher and stood next to Lara.
"You might think that you and he are a reasonably new development, but anyone with an eye in their head could have seen years ago that you are the only woman Hillary has ever, and will ever, love." He patted her shoulder awkwardly.
"When I first met him, it was obvious to me that, in spite of the tight-arsed butler routine, he was in love with you. It was only a matter of time before you fell for him too-or so anyone who met the two of you hoped." The patting stopped, but Bryce stayed close to Lara.
"But he never said anything," Lara whispered. "All those years, and he kept quiet."
"It wasn't his place," Bryce replied. "Can you imagine what it would have done to that servant-master relationship you upper classes are so fond of? It would have destroyed him to make you feel uncomfortable."
"So he waited," Lara murmured. "Until I finally came to my senses and realised that I loved him too." She looked up at Bryce, suddenly vulnerable. "And now it might be too late to tell him."
Meeting her gaze, Bryce smiled gently. "I know, that if there's one thing that will make Hillary recover from this it's you telling him how much you love him."
Lara stood up from the table and, for the first time since she'd known him, she hugged Bryce. "Thank you," she said.
"Not a problem," Bryce said slightly awkwardly. "Give him my best when you see him."
"I will. I know it will mean a lot to him." With that, she wandered from the kitchen.
Chapter 7