“We could try, but he is in no state to direct a horse so that I am afraid it might just stand there or set off the wrong way; I don’t imagine they’re much accustomed to being ridden. I think you’d have to go with him in order to make sure he didn’t fall off as well as get the poor beast to go in the right direction.”
“I’m willing to try; should I leave him up there and come back down again for you, do you think?”
“No; for God’s sake, if you get to the top, just stay there and hope someone comes along soon who can fetch reinforcements.”
He left her again, this time going in the opposite direction, to fetch his mother and younger sister. Cecilia remained beside the stricken coachman, rubbing his hands and exhorting him to open his eyes and say something.
When Mrs Moss and Phyllis appeared, both looked almost blue. Phyllis’s teeth were chattering, and Mrs Moss had an unhealthy colour which Cecilia hoped was due to nothing more dramatic than the cold mingling with her naturally empurpled complexion.
“What are we to do?” she asked hopelessly. “Endymion seems to think he should send you and the coachman up to the road – but what will happen to us if he does that?”
“There are two horses which don’t seem to be much impaired,” Endymion said. “You could ride the other one with Phyllis if you have the courage.”
“But what about you?”
“Well, I can try to walk, leading the other two, who are both lame. I’m sure someone will come along soon but I am afraid they may not see us unless we are actually on the road – especially now it’s beginning to get dark.”
“There is someone coming along now,” Cecilia said suddenly. She had been staring longingly up at the road and now saw a couple of carriages, one behind the other, approach from the Piedmont side.
“Oh, do you think they will see us?” Phyllis asked.
“Their coachman surely will for there must be tracks leading to the edge which he is bound to notice.”
They watched, hardly daring to breathe, as the two carriages drew closer, saw the leading one – a large, much ornamented vehicle clearly belonging to a nobleman – pause briefly before picking up speed again and continuing on its way.
Endymion and Phyllis, who had begun to shout and wave their arms around, leapt up and down with renewed vigour as it moved away, closely followed by the other, plainer, vehicle, which presumably held the noble passengers’ servants.
“They must have seen us,” Endymion said, frowning.
“Yes, I think they must have done; they definitely paused for a moment,” Cecilia agreed. “Do you suppose the man inside ordered the coachman to keep driving?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps they thought we were all dead,” Mrs Moss suggested.
“Dead people don’t jump up and down shouting,” her son pointed out bitterly.
“Perhaps they decided there was nothing they could do without reinforcements; they will send someone from the next inn as soon as they get there,” Cecilia said, trying, in her accustomed way, to find something positive in a situation which, on the face of it, looked bleak.
“Is the coachman dead?” Phyllis asked, noticing the man lying nearby.
“No; he’s breathing, but has lost his senses,” Cecilia said.
“Has he hurt his head? Is that why you have tied it up in one of your petticoats?”
“Yes.”
“Like I did?”
Cecilia did not know how much Phyllis knew about her own injury and was surprised that she should have linked the two incidents.
“Possibly; it is hard to tell.”
“It was a long time before I regained my senses, was it not?” Phyllis asked. She did not, of course, know this from her own memory but from what she had been told since.
“Yes, but we do not at present know how badly Mario has been hurt; he may come to quite soon.”
“Will he be the same as he was before when he does?” the girl asked.
“It is impossible to tell at this juncture.”
Phyllis nodded. “You do not need to pretend that all is well with me,” she said kindly. “I know that I am not what I was before, that I – I am not as clever as you. Perhaps I never was, but I do not believe I am as stupid as you think.”
Mrs Moss and Endymion were staring at the girl with a sort of horror as she held her older sister’s eyes but neither intervened.
“I do not think you stupid,” Cecilia said.
“Yes, you do. You treat me as though I am a child, which I am not.”
“This is not the place to discuss such things,” Cecilia said shortly.
“Why not? You never talk about it and every year it gets more difficult to ignore because I know I’m grown up. While I was a child it was not so bad, was it? All you had to do was look after me, but I know that most girls my age would be starting to look for a husband – or at least going to dances and – and that sort of thing – but you still treat me as though I am no more than ten.”
“Do you wish to find a husband?” Cecilia asked, frowning, for, although her sister had chosen a peculiar and inconvenient time to raise the matter, she realised with a sinking heart that her blithe assurance to the Earl that Phyllis had yet to develop an interest in gentlemen was mistaken.
“Yes; I cannot go on being a child for ever and I do not want to grow old without ever having had a lover – and I think you should find one too,” she finished defiantly.
“Oh, I am too old!” Cecilia, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, pounced with considerable relief upon Phyllis’s last observation, hoping to draw her sister’s attention to herself; the ruse was only partially successful.
“Don’t be silly! It’s my belief your refusal to contemplate marriage is because you feel obliged to look after me so that, if I were to marry, you would be free to do so too.”
“In order to marry,” Cecilia said sternly, “it is necessary for someone – a man - to want to marry you – and so far no one has. If a good man were to seek your hand, and if you liked him well enough, I would be happy for you. Unfortunately, none has turned up yet.”
“You don’t let me meet anyone,” Phyllis pointed out, “so how can I find a one?”
“There!” Mrs Moss exclaimed. “What did I say? As soon as anyone takes an interest, you whisk us all away – and look what the result has been this time! We will most likely all die now!”
No one made any attempt to answer this accusation and Mrs Moss, with a little sigh of satisfaction at having apparently rendered her elder daughter speechless, said to Phyllis, “But you did meet one yesterday – Lord Waldron!”
“He’s not interested in me,” Phyllis said simply. “He likes Cissy. He’s too clever for me in any event.”
“I don’t think it matters how clever a man is,” Cecilia said, flushing, “but it does matter what his intentions are and whether he is a good person. Do you like Lord Waldron, Phyllis?”
“No; or, at least, of course I do; I think he is good – and kind - but I don’t like him in that way.”
Cecilia did not reply because Endymion, who had been watching the road intently, shouted, “Look, there’s a horseman coming from the other direction – from the Swiss side – and he’s stopping! Do you think Waldron sent him to look for us?”
“It doesn’t matter - he’s seen us!” Cecilia said as the man brought his horse to the edge of the road and began to wave his whip.
The whole family responded with enthusiastic waving and shouting, although it was doubtful that the man on the road would have been able to hear them. He made all sorts of gestures, including retracing his steps a little way, which the Mosses took to mean that he intended to fetch help. They, in their turn, indicated how pleased they were at this turn of events, bowing and waving with renewed vigour.
“I am sure he must have been sent by Lord Waldron,” Mrs Moss said.
“Probably – or it might have been those people who did not stop who sent
him. Does it matter? I think we can be fairly sure he is going to fetch reinforcements,” Endymion said.
“Do you think we should still try to climb up to meet whoever comes to help or shall we just sit here and wait now that we know someone has seen us?” Cecilia asked.
“We cannot ‘just sit here’,” Mrs Moss argued. “We will freeze to death.”
Neither of her two elder children found much to argue with in this prophecy but were undecided how to convey the unfortunate coachman up the mountain.
“I’ve been thinking about that some more,” Endymion said, addressing his elder sister, “and I don’t think my earlier suggestion of you riding up with him would answer. Bearing in mind that he is completely insensible, you would have your work cut out to prevent him sliding off and, although he’s not a big man, you’re not strong enough to hold him on.”
“No,” she agreed, “but you probably could.”
“Possibly, but I won’t leave you three down here without me and, if I take him up, I don’t think I can leave him, senseless, at the side of the road.”
“We could go up together,” she suggested, “and then I could stay there with him and you could come down again.”
“I don’t want to leave Mama and Phylly alone down here,” he said, his young face beginning to look almost ragged with anxiety as he wrestled with the weight of responsibility the accident had thrust upon his shoulders.
“I can stay with them,” Cecilia said. “Even you cannot be in two places at once, Dym.”
“No. I think what we need is some sort of a sled to carry Mario. I’m wondering if I can fashion something out of the remains of the carriage and then we can get the horses to pull it.”
“Could they not pull us all?” Mrs Moss asked.
“I daresay they could if I can make one large enough,” he agreed with a grin and set off with renewed optimism towards the remains of the carriage.
The three women were left to huddle together with the coachman in weather which was worsening by the minute. The sun had disappeared and, in the same manner as the day before, heavy grey clouds now covered the sky.
“You two stay here with Mario,” Cecilia said after a few minutes, “and keep moving. I’m going to see if I can help Endymion.”
The young man had already gathered a number of pieces of wood from the broken carriage and was binding them together with the help of some of the stockings which had fallen out of the women’s trunk.
“I thought if I could fashion some sort of a more or less solid platform, we could put the seats, which seem to be largely intact, on top,” he said.
“A good idea, but do you think my stockings will hold it together sufficiently to get us up the hill? It would be calamitous if it came apart and we fell down again – possibly even further.”
“Pray do not be so pessimistic; stockings are very strong. We’ll have something approximating a sled in no time.”
Cecilia occupied herself with the contents of the trunk and gathered up as many stockings, petticoats and shawls as she could find. When she returned, she found the sled was beginning to take shape.
“See – it looks quite promising, doesn’t it? Can you help me move the seat on to it?”
“I could, but I think it would be better not to. The seats are very big and quite ungainly. Would it not be safer for us simply to sit upon the planks? How are you going to attach the horses?”
“You’re probably right,” he admitted, a little crestfallen. “I was thinking of Mama, but we won’t have far to fall if the sled disintegrates – which it most likely will. In answer to your second question, I thought I would salvage what I can from the original harness and traces and supplement it, if necessary, with more of your stockings.”
It took him some considerable time to separate what he wanted from the remains of the carriage and attach it to the sled. Without a proper implement, he was forced to make do with the butt of the blunderbuss to smash away as much of the splintered wood as he could.
“There,” he said, straightening, “That’s more or less the best I can do.”
“It looks splendid. Shall we see if we can get Mario on before you attach the horses? What do you propose to do with the lame ones?”
“They will have to tag along behind. You can hold the reins.”
Together, they drew the newly fashioned sled across the snow towards the pair sitting beside the still inert coachman.
Endymion explained his plan, and, between them, they managed to lift the coachman and lay him on the planks, covering him with what gowns and shawls remained.
“I’ll fetch the horses. You wait here,” he said when Phyllis and his mother had seated themselves beside the coachman.
“I’ll come with you,” Cecilia said.
Chapter 15
It was some considerable time, and the light had begun to fade, before the groom who had been sent to look for the Moss family returned.
The Earl, when he realised how unlikely it was that they would be able to resume their journey that day, ordered rooms to be made ready for both parties, thus displaying a degree of optimism that the Mosses would eventually turn up, safe and none the worse for the protracted delay, which Miss Godmanton had no hesitation in describing as ‘wishful thinking’.
“They must arrive some time,” Helen told her. She was growing increasingly impatient for there was nothing to do but gaze out of the window or into the fire. Matters had improved a little since his lordship had decreed that they must spend the night there for she now had access to her trunk, from which she had extracted her book, although she was too distracted to open it.
“Not necessarily,” Miss Godmanton said. “They might have decided to go back the way they came – as I rather thought they would - or, alternatively, continue to the next inn. Either way, they may prefer not to see us again.”
“Why in the world would they wish that?” Helen asked. “His lordship has already been excessively generous to them and, if they are in such dire straits as they say, they will surely be reluctant to sever their connexion with him.”
“Possibly,” Miss Godmanton said darkly. “On the other hand, it’s my belief they’re running away from something and may be afraid his lordship will expose their secret.”
“Or they might have had an accident,” Helen continued, ignoring this uncharitable attitude and voicing what they were all thinking but nobody had liked to mention.
“If that is the case – and I own I should not be at all surprised if it were so – the groom will find them and, if he cannot help, will no doubt return for reinforcements.”
“Well, but why hasn’t he come back?” Helen asked, her voice growing a little shrill. “He has been gone long enough to have covered the distance between last night’s stop and this one several times over.”
Several pots of tea and a variety of drinks and cakes had been served and the candles lit before the groom reappeared.
He requested an audience outside with the Earl, a circumstance which alerted the two women to the possibility of a serious accident having taken place.
“Oh, pray don’t shut us out!” Helen exclaimed. “We are bound to discover what has happened in time. Pray tell us now! Has there been an accident?”
The groom glanced nervously at the Earl and, receiving a nod, said, “I am afraid there has, Mademoiselle.”
“Oh, Heaven! What has happened? They are not hurt, are they?”
“I do not know, Mademoiselle. I had been riding for some time without seeing anything unusual when I met another carriage coming up. I flagged it down to enquire of the coachman if he had seen anything, to which he replied that they had just passed what he described as the scene of what looked like an exceptionally nasty accident.”
“Oh! Were they – they are not dead, are they?”
“Hush,” the Earl said, putting his arm around her. “Let the man finish.”
“They were not on the road at all,” the man continued. “It looked, from the marks in
the snow, as though they had skidded and fallen over the edge. They had not, though, by the Grace of God, fallen all the way into the ravine, which was exceptionally deep just there, but had landed on the upper slope – close to a belt of trees. I could see the remains of their coach, which had suffered serious damage.”
“Yes, but what of them? Did you see them?” Helen cried, unable to refrain from pushing for a definitive answer to the question which had begun to gnaw at her heart.
“I could see people down there but, from where I was, I could not tell how badly hurt they were. I managed to count five, including one who was lying on the ground, being, I think, tended by two others. I know no more than that, Mademoiselle. As I did not think there was much I could do by myself, I thought it best to come back as quickly as possible in the hope that, with some reinforcements, they could be rescued.”
“You did the right thing,” the Earl said at once. “But what of the other carriage – the one you stopped? Who was in it?”
“I did not speak to the people inside who, from what I could see, were two men. They were moving when I met them, so I flagged them down, as I say, and spoke to the man on the box. He assured me they were on their way to find help and was pleased to hear that there was an inn a few miles further on. I asked him to lay information as soon as he arrived here and to request help be sent immediately. I had, when I spoke to him, intended to climb down to offer what aid I could but, in the end, decided that it would be better to hurry back as fast as I could. After all, on horseback, I am much quicker than even the fastest carriage – and indeed soon passed them.”
“Indeed; you did the right thing,” the Earl repeated. “They should be here any minute. Meanwhile, I think we had better gather a party together to try to reach our friends. Do you think we will be able to climb down on foot or will we need ropes?”
Upon the groom expressing the opinion that it would do no harm to take ropes, his lordship ordered both his carriages to be made ready, together with as many able-bodied men as could be spared from other duties, ropes and whatever other equipment the inn could provide for lifting people out of ravines.
Cecilia Or Flight From A Shadow Page 13