Part 1 (2/2)
He raised the collar of his cloak and, ignoring Felix's oaths, stepped out into the rain. Not rain, but sleet. It pelted him like dozens of needles, each cutting into his face. He paid it no more mind than he had his cousin's grousing. ”Where?”
”This way.” Jenkins was not much taller than a young lad, but he had been driving for more than a score of years. Only such keen eyes would have noted in this storm the path through the half-frozen mud.
Timothy muttered a few curses of his own as he saw the wheel tracks widen. The carriage must have been out of control, sliding across the roadway. Rus.h.i.+ng to the side of the narrow road, he choked back another curse when he saw a wheel shattered against the stone wall.
”Get the lantern,” he ordered.
”Aye, my lord.” Jenkins's voice shook as he ran back to the carriage.
Peering through the storm, Timothy could see little. The hill dropped steeply away. Something glittered farther down it. He could not tell whether it was part of a carriage or simply water trickling down the hillside.
He took the lantern Jenkins handed him and stepped over the low wall. Sleet coursed into his collar while it weighed his hair low over his eyes, but he thought only of keeping his footing as he went down the steep hill.
”Wait up!”
He turned to see Felix lurching toward him. ”No need for you to get wet until I see what's here.”
”Too late.” He grinned. ”Besides, why should you have all the adventure?”
Although he would have preferred to have Jenkins with him, Timothy nodded. ”All right. Take care. It's steep and probably as slippery as a pickpocket's fingers in your pocket.” He balanced with one hand on the wall. ”Jenkins, stay with the carriage, but listen for our call. We may need help if anyone survived.”
”Aye, my lord.” The coachman glanced uneasily at Felix.
Instead of replying to his man's obvious question, Timothy began to descend the hill. Felix was no good in an emergency, but denying him the chance to come down here would be a waste of breath. If Felix had a case of the vapors, Timothy would be cursed to perdition before he dragged him back up the hill.
He let his feet slide as he reached from tree to tree. The sleet was thickening to snow, which tried to blind him. The lamplight flickered with his uneven steps. When he saw broken branches and small trees that had been cut off a foot above the ground, he tensed. Something unquestionably had come this way. Something large and out of control, tearing up everything in its path.
A hint of a breeze tugged the curtain of sleet and snow aside, and he saw a broken carriage lying against a tree farther down the hill. A horse thrashed weakly against the harness.
”Jenkins!” he shouted.
”What is it?” Felix asked, slipping toward him.
Timothy pointed. While his cousin cursed with rare spirit, he called an order for the coachee to bring a gun down to end the horse's suffering.
Felix did not follow as Timothy edged down toward the carriage. Timothy stretched to open the door. The carriage s.h.i.+fted against the tree holding it above the creek. He cautiously drew the door aside.
”Is anyone in there?” Felix called.
Timothy did not answer for a long moment as he stared at the bodies cl.u.s.tered together in death. A man and a woman, both well dressed. Feathers on the woman's turban fluttered in the air coursing through the carriage, but that was the only motion within the carriage.
”Yes,” he said, as he pulled the door closed, ”but they are both dead.”
”The coachman is over here,” Jenkins shouted, pausing partway down the hill. ”He is dead, too.”
”Take care of the horse.” Timothy sighed. He wished there was something else they could do other than report this to the authorities in the next village. They would have to figure out who had owned this carriage and let the family know of the disaster.
He flinched at the sound of the single shot. Its echo was muted by a woman's shriek.
Whirling, he almost lost his footing. That scream had come from the other side of the carriage. Someone must be alive!
Felix shouted something to him, but he did not pause to listen as he continued down the hill, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from. He called for Jenkins to fire the gun again. As the shot resonated along the hillside, he followed the terrified cry to his right.
He knew he would never have seen this woman if she had not cried out. Her clothes, as befit a servant, were as drab as the leaves along the hillside. Mud further darkened them. A broken bonnet could not restrain her black hair, which camouflaged her. As she turned her head to look at him, her face was deathly pale. Her shadowed eyes were lost beneath the blood coursing along her forehead.
”Thank goodness,” she whispered. ”You did not leave me here.”
He knelt beside her. ”Calm yourself, miss. Where do you hurt?”
When she did not reply, he saw she had lost consciousness. He guessed that only the sound of the gun firing had roused her from her pain. He quickly checked her limbs to determine that no bones were broken. Tearing a strip from the hem of her ap.r.o.n, he bound it around her head to slow the bleeding. He wondered how long she had been lying on the hillside waiting for help that might never have come.
He slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her cautiously. Her moan against his neck sent s.h.i.+vers of dread to his toes. If one of her ribs was broken, he could be hurting her worse. He could not leave her here. Even if they were able to find a doctor in the next village, she might die before they returned.
Her head lolled against his chest. Jenkins scampered across the hillside and down to him. The coachman folded the young woman's arm over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, which rose and fell so slowly. Bending, he picked up her ruined bonnet and one slipper.
”Do you need some help, my lord?” he asked. He tucked the bonnet and slipper under his arm as he gripped the gun with his other hand.
”I think I can manage.”
Timothy was less sure of his a.s.sertion on every step up the precipitous hill. The woman was slender, but even her slight weight was a burden when he had to fight for each foothold. More than once, Jenkins's hand in the middle of his back steadied him. He was panting like a hound after a fox when he reached the wall at the top of the hill. Somehow he swung one leg, then the other over the wall and carried the young woman to the carriage.
”Oh, my! Oh, my!” Felix said with a gasp as he wrung his hands.
”Calm yourself,” he said, as he had to the young woman, even though he knew it was useless. Felix was always ready to cede himself to panic.
”Is she dead?”
”Not yet.” He set her on one cus.h.i.+on and climbed into the carriage. Settling her head on his leg, he motioned for his cousin to get in, too.
”What are we going to do with her?”
Timothy exchanged a wry grin with Jenkins. ”We are going to the next village to see if we can get some help for her. If we hurry, she may live long enough to get there.”
”But, Timothy-”
The young woman shuddered as she drew in a breath, and he retorted, ”If we stay here until all your questions are answered, we may be burying her along with the others.”
Two.
Pain laced every breath she took. She tried to breathe shallowly, but it made no difference. The pain began on her right side and leaped across to her left with each motion. When she tried to hold her breath, hoping it would ease the anguish, the very pulse of her heart augmented it.
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