He was conscious, finally! And he had managed a few words, beginnings of questions that Callista could hazard well enough without hearing them. She hadn’t known anyone would be out on the grounds, else she would have left the mandrakes for another day – but she been feeling guilty about this since she’d found him.
“Mr. Hart, isn’t it?” Callista tried, where she was standing at his side, closer to his feet than his head in order to be better within his frame of vision, hopefully without him needing to sit up too fast. (Hopefully he did recall his name and had not hit his head on something on the way down; she did not want to be at fault for any life-ruining brain damage.) “You passed out,” she explained gently, supposing Cambridgeshire or Skyfall or my house would be less immediately helpful, if he was still a little out of it. She probably ought to explain about the mandrakes, but – in case she ought to send for a healer or take him to the hospital, she looked him over again, her brow furrowed. “How do you feel now?”
“Mr. Hart, isn’t it?” Callista tried, where she was standing at his side, closer to his feet than his head in order to be better within his frame of vision, hopefully without him needing to sit up too fast. (Hopefully he did recall his name and had not hit his head on something on the way down; she did not want to be at fault for any life-ruining brain damage.) “You passed out,” she explained gently, supposing Cambridgeshire or Skyfall or my house would be less immediately helpful, if he was still a little out of it. She probably ought to explain about the mandrakes, but – in case she ought to send for a healer or take him to the hospital, she looked him over again, her brow furrowed. “How do you feel now?”
