He stood more slowly than she had, but admitted to himself her keenness had spread to him. “Yes. I feel it.”
She didn’t seem to notice. “Come along then,” she urged him, taking up his arm. “Let us be on our way to the rest of our adventure.” She pulled him in the direction of the carriages, parting the grasses with the purposefulness of a ship’s masthead.
“Our last summer together, forever,” he said, very quietly to himself, letting her tow him along while he struggled with the knowledge the words were all too true.
Chapter 10
For man plans, but God arranges.
—Thomas A’Kempis
xix.2
“Damn and hellfire!” Haddy swore five hours later, kicking at the broken wheel before him.
Michael stood up from where he’d been bent at the waist with his hands on his knees, peering under the leaning carriage for himself. “It’s most decidedly broken. We’ll have to have a new one,” he confirmed unnecessarily.
“Why’d we let Kenneth go ahead with the other carriage and the saddle horses?” Haddy groused.
“It seemed logical at the time, instead of making him drive in the dust,” Xavier said. “He’ll be sitting and sipping ale at whatever inn he’s found, wondering why we’re so slow to catch him up.”
“All right, lads, put out your fists,” Haddy said resignedly. “It’s time to pick our rescuers.”
The three men moved into a tight circle, one fist held before each of them. Haddy laid out the rules matter-of-factly. “Count of three, show me one, two, or three fingers. If two are of the same number, they are to ride the carriage horses to the next town and fetch us help. More or less than that, and we try it again.” The heads around him nodded understanding. “One. Two. Three.”
Their fingers uncurled to display their selections: Xavier held out three fingers, and Michael and Haddy both held out two.
“I’m beginning to regret this expedition. I’ve had the worst luck on it,” Michael growled.
“Of the two of you, Summer’s the one with good luck,” Haddy agreed.
“Perhaps that’s why I’m marrying her.”
“Planning to marry her,” her brother said, beginning to frown.
“Quite,” Michael answered distractedly as he glanced down the road to gauge the distance he’d be forced to ride on one of the coach horses.
“Have you a pistol?” Xavier broke in before Haddy could go on. He glanced at the sky, no longer cloud-free as it’d been for days. “It’ll be nightfall ere long, and full dark before you can ever get back to us. Plus, you’ll need to have a care and watch for footpads. This area is known to host more than its share.”
“I’ve had my pistol in a panel pocket in the carriage,” Michael answered, moving in that direction to retrieve the weapon.
“Mine’s in my pocket already. You can never be too prepared,” Haddy said, patting his side to show where the pistol resided. He reached into the opposite pocket and drew forth a more than slightly tattered map drawn on oiled paper. “We should’ve stopped at Southampton, blast it all,” he muttered as he unfolded and surveyed the map critically. “Damn thing’s harder to read than a Latin text. But, see here—” he indicated the map with a nod of his head “—at least we cannot be more than a few miles from either Stockton or Long . . . ? Does that say ‘Itchington?’” he asked of Xavier, balancing the parchment in one hand, as he pointed with the forefinger of his other. When Xavier grunted agreement, Haddy went on. “Long Itchington. It appears that as long as we keep to the main road, it’ll branch, bringing us to one or the other, whatsoever their names may be.” He folded the map, sliding it back into his pocket.
“Let’s be on our way then,” Michael said, the pistol now a noticeable bulge in his right coat pocket.
Haddy eyed Xavier. “You’re armed as well?”
The only male who was to remain with the ladies, Xavier nodded.
Haddy lifted his chin, indicating his sister, standing ten yards away from the inoperable coach with the other ladies. “Summer knows how to fire a pistol, you know. Papa and I figured a frail, pretty thing such as she ought to know how to give a bit of a sting if needed.”
Xavier’s eyebrows lifted, tugging gently at his eye patch strap. “I must say in defense of this our cause, that was a wise choice.”
“We thought so.”
“I’ve a rifled long gun, and should there be need, Summer may have my pistol.”
“Give me a hand up, will you, Warfield? This brute,” Michael said, indicating one of the cart horses, “must be seventeen hands.”
The horse was tall for a common coach horse, true enough; the beast made a bit of a mismatch with its shorter partner, both now freed from their traces. Xavier cupped his hands to provide a stirrup up for both Michael and Haddy. They’d neither saddles and only lead bridles by which to guide the animals.
“The ladies and I wish you a safe journey. You may care to take a more leisurely pace than you normally would,” Xavier suggested up at Haddy.
“Damned if I will,” Haddy cried, as Xavier had expected from his hunting-mad friend. “I can sit me any horse I care to sit, saddle or no. Now, Michael, on the other hand—”
Xavier laughed as Michael put his heels to his horse, springing away without notice. Haddy gave a cry, then answered the challenge by urging his horse forward in the next moment, and was off down the road, easily displaying he knew how to sit his steed and that Michael would be sore pressed to outride him.
Xavier watched them until they were lost in the growing haze of twilight. He then turned to the carriage, extracting from among his own gear a percussion lock long gun and a small purse of ammunition, and the fulminate of mercury pills that created the necessary explosion, far superior to the loose powder he’d used as a boy. He primed the muzzle-loading weapon, reassured by the hefty weight of it in his hands.
This held tucked into his side, muzzle level to keep it ready to fire, he turned to the ladies, who stood near the limited protection of a hedgerow dividing two fields of hay just turning from green to gold. Two of them had brought and donned their lacy shawls, but another glance at the darkening sky suggested the two other ladies would soon wish they’d snatched up their shawls as well.
“How long before Haddy and Michael find us some assistance?” Penelope called to her brother.
“I’m afraid it may well be quite some hours until we’re rescued and settled for the evening,” Xavier replied honestly.
“How are we to entertain ourselves till then?” Laura asked, her annoyance at the situation plain to see.
“But, Laura,” Genevieve said, smiling, “you sound cross.”
“I am cross. I’m hungry and tired and I want to sit down, and I didn’t care at all for the bumping we received when that wheel collapsed.”
“I’ve never been in a carriage accident before,” Genevieve said, and Xavier was taken aback to see her eyes were shining.
Summer noticed, too. “You enjoyed the experience?” she asked, shaking her head at the idea.
“Didn’t you find it interesting?”
“Interesting, no. Painful, yes,” Laura said, perhaps just avoiding rubbing a certain part of her anatomy. “I was sorely wrenched, and at the bottom of the heap, if you happen to recall, when it came time to crawl out.”
“Yes, but think what a wonderful tale it’ll make when we return to London,” Genevieve argued, still grinning.
“Whatever has gotten into you?” Summer asked, her incredulity coming out as a little laugh.
Genevieve shrugged with an eloquence that spoke volumes. “We’re on an adventure, are we not? We’re young. We’re free. Do you not find that exhilarating?”
“I find being free of my chaperone exhilarating, I’ll own to that,” Laura sounded less annoyed. “Old Phelps is a positive dragon at times, and I cannot miss her presence on this outing.”
“Exactly my point. Miss Wheaton is quite the dear, but she’d have had a fit of the vapors
when the carriage crashed over as it did. And I’d still be trying to rouse her now had she been here,” Genevieve agreed, her dark eyes shining like tiger’s-eye stones in the cloud-spotty light of the setting sun.
“So are you saying we ought to arrange to have a carriage accident every day, just to enliven our otherwise dull and uneventful lives?” Laura drawled. Penelope and Summer exchanged amused glances.
“All I’m saying is I think it behooves us to enjoy what does come our way, particularly on this particular tour of ours. No one was hurt, so why should we not relish the moment?”
Penelope turned to Summer and Laura, encompassing Xavier with the move. “Do you suppose she struck her head?”
“No.” Laura grinned. “She’s merely young and full of a sudden love of life.”
“’She’s young,’” Genevieve mimicked. “As though you’re ancient, Laura.”
Laura’s eyes clouded over. “Some days I feel ancient,” she murmured.
“Silly thing,” Genevieve called her, but gently. She had to be remembering Laura’s beau, lost to war. “I believe I care to have a cloak now,” Genevieve hurried on. “My dears, shall I fetch yours from the carriage as well?”
Xavier rose to his feet. “No indeed, Genevieve. It’s not safe. I’ll fetch your garments from the coach.”
Along with bonnets, he found two pelisses and one cloak, bringing back for his sister an apology he couldn’t find more in the darkening interior and one of the rugs often thrown over legs, which she wrapped around her shoulders. Summer pulled her shawl onto her head and bulkily tied it under her chin. “After so much heat, I can’t believe I’m a trifle cool,” she explained.
“Do I look like those American savages you see written of in the news sheets?” Penelope asked from under her woolen rug.
“Not a bit,” Summer disagreed. “You’ll do. I’m only glad it’s not so chilly we have to decide whether to climb back into the carriage or not.”
“It’d be uncomfortable sitting at an angle like that,” Xavier spoke. “But the biggest danger lies in that it remains squarely in the center of the road. There’s always the possibility some fool wouldn’t see our coach before he ran into it. I daren’t light one of the lamps, but fear of the oil spreading and setting it all alight.”
“Such a driver would have to be a rather great fool,” Genevieve said, eyeing the straight, level spot of road before them. “Still, a collision or a fire is too much adventure even for me.”
Laura said, “I should think so,” and for some little while they exchanged tales of carriage accidents they’d heard of, everyone adding in except Xavier, who strolled about, watching the road and the sky. The sun had all but set, and dusk was rapidly pulling night down around them, and though he didn’t speak of it, Xavier grew concerned.
* * *
“Am I mistaken,” Summer said not even half an hour later. Genevieve peered through the dark to see Summer’s hands gripped her own forearms. Only moonlight allowed them to see much of anything, and only when that celestial object wasn’t covered by the racing clouds. “Or is it getting c-colder?”
“You’re not mistaken,” Xavier said, no humor in his tone. “Here, take this, dear girl.” Genevieve looked from Summer to him, searching for signs of partiality. She couldn’t be sure, but there was enough light to see concern on his face. He unbuttoned his coat, shrugging out of it and passing it to Summer. She took it with a little demurring sound, which he waved away. “I’ve my waistcoat to keep me warm enough.”
That was something of a lie, Genevieve noted, for everyone was stamping and shuffling, trying to generate heat.
Xavier looked up at the sky, tsking his tongue. “How did it go from clear skies to this in a few hours?” he asked rhetorically. He pulled in a breath and let it out quickly. “I fear we’re soon to have rain.”
“Just so it’s not for the next few hours,” Penelope said.
He shook his head, but whether that was in doubt it would rain, or doubt it would hold off, was unclear. “Well,” he decided of a sudden, “We’re tired of standing. The coach isn’t safe. And rain is possible. I think it’s time to find us some shelter, ladies.” He pulled the pistol from his coat, deftly readying it with cap and shot, then leaned forward to press it into Summer’s hands. “Moreland assures me you can shoot.”
Wordlessly, Summer nodded. The other ladies murmured their surprise, except Genevieve, whom Summer had told months ago.
“I’ll go search, and while I’m gone,” Xavier instructed the petite blonde, “you must be the one to protect everyone.” He gave a flash of a smile, but something lingered in his eyes, even in the dark, a warmness to encourage her. “But you won’t need to, I feel sure.”
Summer looked up at him with large, rounded eyes as she shifted the weapon in her hands, the better to handle it. “Please don’t be gone long,” she said in a near-whisper.
“I won’t.”
Xavier’s presence was swiftly lost to the shadows.
“I wish he’d had a lamp to take with him,” Genevieve murmured.
“I wish there were two. One for Xavier, and one for us,” Summer said. As the others muttered their avid agreement, Summer slipped an arm around Genevieve’s waist. They pulled close, shivering together as she tried to share Xavier’s coat with Genevieve.
The darkness pressed on them, and Penelope and Laura likewise moved together. When the foursome spoke, it was in short, quiet sentences, and that only occasionally. Time stretched out, matching their nerves.
Some kind of chittering animal call made them all jump and cry out, then fall very still and listen pensively for it to come again. Summer pulled back the hammer, careful to point the pistol away from her compatriots, but Genevieve saw that her hand shook.
A rustling sound, loud in the stillness, reached their ears, and the ladies pressed back into the hedge with little indrawn gasps, and Summer leveled the quaking pistol in the direction of the sound. Laura caught Penelope’s hands in her own as they peered through the dark at an approaching figure. It lifted its arm—and Penelope was the first to relax. “It’s Xavier,” she said on a hiccupy sigh.
The other ladies let out their breath as one, and Summer lowered the pistol.
“I’ve found something,” Xavier belatedly thought to call to them. “It’s not a proper cave, just a length of overhanging dirt bank, but I think it will provide more shelter than these hedges. About a hundred feet that way,” he pointed behind him.
“But if we leave the road, how will we be found by any rescuers?” his sister asked.
He came nearer to take up Penelope’s hand. “By God, your hand is cold, Nellie,” he said with a frown before going on. “But, not to worry, we’ll leave them a note. There are paper and graphite pencils in the panel pockets of the carriage.”
The note was affixed by way of lifting one of the glass windows so that the paper’s edge was caught, the note then stirring in the night breeze in a noticeable fashion. As Xavier did this, Genevieve and Penelope went through the few bags he’d dragged free for them, and extracted two more shawls, one of Indian muslin and one of silk. “None of us saw a need to pack wool or jersey, that’s a certainty,” Penelope observed wistfully.
“Nor thought to be traveling at night,” Genevieve agreed.
“Xavier, please take back your coat.” Summer had already shrugged it off.
He shook his head and grabbed the last of the coach rugs. “This will do for me.”
Summer gave him a nod, and by drawing the coat again over her shoulders didn’t waste his gallantry.
He restored the bags to the coach, and led a train of ladies through the dark to what was exactly as he’d named it: a dirt bank in the middle of a field. Still, it was taller than his head, with enough depth to let them call it shelter, and did create a windbreak. The ladies arranged themselves, huddled, watching with eyes that had adjusted as much as they ever would to the dark, as Xavier worked. He gathered twigs and grasses, and before too very long he�
��d created a spark from his pocket flint, and then a small fire.
“It won’t last long,” he warned them. “Even if I pull up our unknowing host’s green crops, they’ll not burn well, nor long. If only we were near a wood.”
“There’s that one,” Penelope pointed to a blacker smudge in the dark distance. “Perhaps it would be worth the walk…?”
“Too far,” Xavier asserted again, rubbing his arms to increase the circulation in them. “Your fire would be quite out before I ever returned, and no doubt our rescuers arrived by then. It shouldn’t be too much longer a wait,” he said, smiling at them reassuringly as he pulled the rug over his shoulders.
Xavier continued to nurse the little fire, gathering what fuel he could, but its heat didn’t keep up with its smoke. The women had tried to sit for awhile, but with no spare rugs to block the earthen chill, soon took to standing again. Despite the smoke stinging their eyes, the group crowded around the inadequate fire, the ladies mindful of their skirts and of sparks, but the night’s chill was creepingly overtaking both the fire’s worth and their spirits. Clouds obscured the moon fully now, leaving them with only the light of the struggling fire, and there was a suspicious moist scent on the wind that none of them dared name. Xavier looked up at the cloud-thick arc of night sky, and ran a hand over his lower face, and Genevieve perceived he knew what she knew: rain was imminent.
Summer rocked back and forth under her coverings, but she denied that she was cold. Just as Genevieve reached for her shawl, meaning to surrender it to the fair-haired girl who couldn’t quite hide the chattering of her teeth, Xavier moved to her side.
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