Almost an Angel

by Katherine Greyle

  "All the miners hate him. There is even talk of rebellion."

  Carolly was flabbergasted. Rebellion? Against James? She twisted her fingers into the coverlet. She'd thought this incarnation might be fairly straightforward. All she had to do was get Miss Hornswallow and James together. Except now she had to add an economic crisis and a mining revolt to her list of problems. Things just seemed to get more and more complicated.

  Carolly threw back her covers, startling Margaret with her sudden energy. Matchmaking James and Miss Hornswallow could wait. She had to check into this other crisis.

  "How about showing me around the village, hmmm?"

  The young girl jumped up. "Great!" Then her enthusiasm quickly died. "Except I have lessons with Miss Hornswallow. I always have lessons," she moaned in the familiar whine of all schoolchildren.

  "You leave your governess to me. This afternoon, you're going to give me lessons."

  Margaret brightened immediately, but Carolly felt as if a weight had settled on her chest. Why? She should be thrilled. By taking Margaret with her, she increased the chances that Miss Hornswallow and James would meet and go on their own little walk in the woods. Carolly winced, but then she steeled her resolve. Nothing could ever come of hanging on to James. Nothing except heartache all around.

  She sighed and motioned to Margaret. "Go on and study hard now. It's early. Then meet me after lunch in the stable. I'll tell Miss Homswinger that we're to have an outing."

  "Hornswallow."

  "Whatever."

  Margaret grinned. She stopped just before opening the door. "Someone really did shoot at you?"

  Carolly smiled. "Yeah. I also walked along that ledge to return your toad—except that you don't sleep in the room I thought."

  The girl's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You did not walk along that ledge. Uncle forbid you to. I heard him."

  Carolly almost laughed. "I've never been able to take orders well. Ask your uncle if you don't believe me."

  Margaret stared at her a little longer, still suspicious.

  "I climbed out right here onto the ledge," Carolly said, stung that she'd risked her life and the girl didn't even believe her. "It was very safe until I came up against the ivy. Here, look." She threw open the shutters and pointed. "See where that vine is pulled away from the wall? I did that when I almost fell."

  Margaret leaned out the window, then started climbing out onto the ledge to see clearer.

  "No, no! Don't go. It's not safe." Carolly couldn't believe the panic that clutched her at the thought of Margaret standing out there. Even though she knew the near ledge was fairly safe, she was nearly hyperventilating at the thought.

  Margaret, of course, had no qualms. "But you did it," she said, her voice muffled as she pushed her torso further out.

  "That's different." Carolly firmly tugged the child inside.

  "Why?"

  Carolly bit her lip. Why? She couldn't really tell Margaret that she didn't fear death because she was an angel. James would have a fit. Instead, she chose her own version of the truth.

  “Because I'd die of heart failure if I saw you crawling that far above the ground."

  "But you said it was safe."

  "Don't do it because your uncle would kill me," Carolly tried.

  Finally, she'd hit upon something Margaret understood. To Carolly's enormous relief, the girl sighed in agreement. But it was a heavy, heavy sigh, and the child cast longing looks at the window. "Will we still go into the village?" she asked with a long face.

  Carolly frowned. "Yes. Why wouldn't we?"

  "Because Uncle will not like that either."

  "Oh."

  "He says it is not safe."

  "Hmmm." Carolly thought. James was probably exaggerating the danger. He simply didn't want Margaret wandering off alone. But they should be safe as long as they stayed together. Besides, Carolly had to see the conditions in the village, and for that she needed a guide. Any of the maids or footmen would have to ask for permission, and then James would find out.

  She wasn't entirely sure why she was reluctant for James to know of her upcoming adventure. The thought of tooling around town with him sent an excited thrill through her body. But she strongly suspected that James would not want to broadcast the fact that a mad Bedlamite was living at his house, which meant he would refuse the trip. Which meant she would never get to see the village for herself.

  Besides, she reminded herself with a sigh, she had to get Margaret and herself out of the house if James and Miss Hornswallow were ever going to get together.

  Which meant that she and Margaret would go to town together.

  Shrugging off her misgivings, she turned on her brightest smile. "You leave your uncle to me. With any luck, he won't even know we're gone."

  Margaret tilted her head, clearly considering her options. Carolly held her breath while the precocious child thought.

  "All right," the girl finally said. "But I get to drive."

  Drive? It took a moment before Carolly realized Margaret meant a wagon or carriage or whatever they used to go to town.

  "Are you sure you can handle it?"

  "Absolutely." Margaret spoke with a ten-year-old's certainty. Alarms went off in Carolly's head, but she really didn't have much choice; no matter how bad Margaret was at driving a carriage, she was probably a good deal better than Carolly. She just had to keep the little girl safe.

  "It's a deal," Carolly finally said. She could only pray James never found out.

  ***

  Letting a ten-year-old drive a gig was like letting a teenager play around with a Ferrari, except there wasn't a seat belt. Margaret apparently knew the basics—the stuff Carolly could have figured out herself. You sat in the front and said something like "giddy-up" and the horses went forward. But Margaret didn't just say "giddy-up." She flicked the reins not once, not twice, but four times until they zipped along a rutted road at what felt like warp speed. Carolly felt like she was going down the slalom without bothering to avoid the bumps.

  "Uh, Mags, could we please slow down?"

  Margaret had on a wide grin of ecstasy and wasn't listening. Then Carolly looked a little harder at the two brown horses in front of her. Something about them seemed odd. Sure, she didn't know much about team horses, but she didn't think they ought to be snorting and throwing their heads like that. That's what wild horses looked like in the movies.

  "Mag—" Her word jolted right back into her throat as they went over another big rut. That's when she started to get a really bad feeling.

  She decided it was time to put a stop to this ride before she permanently damaged her tailbone.

  "Margaret! Slow down!"

  This time, the girl heard. She pulled back on the ribbons. Or at least it looked like she did. Carolly waited for the telltale slowing of the vehicle.

  Nothing.

  "Maaaaiee!" Another huge bump, and Carolly had to grab the edge to keep from flying out. If they kept this up, they'd lose a wheel for sure. "Damn it, Mags! Slow down!"

  "I’m trying!" The girl's voice came out as a wail of panic. One quick look told Carolly the only thing keeping Margaret from hysteria was lack of breath.

  Without thinking, Carolly encircled the child with her arms, covering Margaret's hands with her own, and together they pulled backwards, reining in the horses. Except they were on a downhill slope, and the horses and gig gained speed as they went. Even as the two of them pulled back, the weight of the carriage pushed the horses on.

  Carolly cursed loudly and fluently while searching the floor. "Where the hell is the damn brake?” She flailed her feet in a wide arc, hoping to hit something, anything that might resemble a pedal. "Mags! Wh—ow! Where's the brake?”

  Carolly wasn't watching the girl's face, but she felt Margaret's body jerk with sudden understanding. While Carolly tried to control the now panicked horses, Margaret wormed her fingers free, then reached out and pulled back on a thick stick that Carolly hadn't paid any attention to.
/>   "Right here!"

  Carolly didn't have time to sigh in relief, but she did send a brief prayer of thanks to God as they began to slow.

  Crack!

  "Oh, no!"

  Carolly glanced over, only to gasp in horror as Margaret held up the broken brake handle. She looked back at the horses. Something was wrong with them. They were heaving like tormented beasts, headed straight to the curve at the bottom of the hill. All she could do was haul backward on the reins while her mind repeated a movie slogan:

  Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

  She didn't have to be told. Coming to a quick decision, Carolly dropped the leads, grabbed Margaret, and screamed, "We've got to bail!"

  "What?”

  "Jump!"

  Carolly wrapped her arms around the young girl and tensed for the right moment.

  "Now!"

  They leaped together, landing in the muddy ditch at the side of the road. Carolly rolled, doing her best to hold on to Margaret, but the child was ripped from her arms. Off in the distance, she heard a crash as the gig hit and splintered against the trees at the bottom of the hill. As soon as she tumbled to a stop, she pushed to her knees, ignoring the pain she only now began to feel.

  "Mags!" Her voice came out as a soft croak, so she took a deep breath and tried again. "Mags! Where are you?” She'd kill herself if anything had happened to the girl.

  Wiping away the mud and leaves, Carolly crawled out of the ditch. Thankfully, she had landed mostly in mud, which meant that, although she was filthy, she was at least alive and generally whole. She could only pray Margaret was equally fortunate.

  "Margaret!"

  She scrambled up the embankment and stopped to look, scanning the ground, the trees, everything, dreading the sight of blood. Around her, the woods remained in complete silence. Even the wind had stopped.

  That's when she heard it. It was soft and quiet, but heartfelt. A muffled sob—one that could only have come from a terrified ten-year-old girl.

  Margaret was alive.

  Sending her thanks to heaven, Carolly closed her eyes and focused on the sound. When she located it, she opened her eyes and stepped slowly toward it.

  She almost tripped over the child by the time she finally found her. Margaret huddled behind a tree, clutching her knees while huge tears streamed down her face. "Oh, Mags, thank God you're all right."

  Carolly dropped to her knees beside the child, searching for any sign of injury. Other than a few scrapes, including a very raw knee, Margaret seemed fine.

  "Oh, thank you, thank you God." Then Carolly pulled Margaret into her arms and held her close while they both cried their eyes out.

  It was some time later before Carolly regained control of herself. And even longer before she felt strong enough to do more than just hold the whimpering Margaret. But eventually she took a deep breath and spoke, albeit softly and mostly to herself.

  "Well, this is a fine sight. Me, a strong modern woman, on her knees sobbing because we're both alive. I'm so sorry, Mags. I never would have allowed this if I thought there would be so much danger. I'm so sorry." Then she buried her face in the child's hair and kissed it, feeling the specter of her many failures rearing up once again.

  Yes, Carolly Hansen had failed again because she was just too stupid to think things through.

  "At least you're safe. I would have died if anything happened to you." Then she lifted her head, suddenly needing to be extra sure. "Are you sure you're all right? Does anything hurt? Any pain, dizziness, any . . . I don't know, double vision or something?”

  She pushed Margaret back, searching her face, but the girl only shook her head, her big brown eyes shimmering with tears.

  "You'll tell me if anything hurts, won't you? If you feel weird in any way."

  "Weird?" The word was little more than a whisper, but Carolly greeted it as a godsend. Margaret could speak. Carolly didn't know why she was so thrilled by that, just that she was.

  "Weird means . . . uh, funny. Uncomfortable. I don't know, just tell me about anything out of the ordinary." Then she glanced at their disheveled clothing. "Or rather, anything else out of the ordinary."

  That brought a tentative smile from the girl which made Carolly feel immensely better. In the end, the two were grinning together as they slowly pushed to their feet and unsuccessfully tried to brush the mud and leaves off their gowns.

  "Thank goodness I left off that ridiculous corset," Carolly announced. "I might have punctured a lung with those whale bones."

  Margaret's eyes opened wider. "You aren't wearing a corset?" she asked, her voice filled with awe. "But we are going into town."

  Carolly pursed her lips. "I was going to stand up straight so no one would notice."

  Margaret looked significantly at the gaping hole torn in the side of Carolly's dress, then at the raw scrape of flesh beneath. "No one will be fooled now."

  "Ah, well," Carolly said with a shrug. "What's life without a little scandal?”

  Margaret frowned. "Uncle does not like scandal."

  "No, I didn't think he did," Carolly said nonchalantly. Her equilibrium was slowly returning. "But then, he isn't here now, is he?”

  Then the most amazing thing happened: Margaret giggled. It was a girlish sound that reminded Carolly of Barbie dolls and hot chocolate. It was the giggle of a child who was finally casting off the shackles of nineteenth-century repression in a cold household.

  More importantly, it was the sound of a happy child.

  It thrilled Carolly so much she couldn't resist hugging Margaret one more time. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go see what damage we've done to your uncle's gig."

  Hand in hand, the two walked the rest of the way down the hill. Carolly was almost afraid to look, but she steeled herself for total disaster.

  "Oh, my." That was Margaret. Carolly couldn't draw breath to speak. It was too horrible a sight. The gig was smashed into ragged bits and the horses were nowhere to be seen.

  "The traces broke."

  Carolly spun around. "What?"

  "There." Margaret pointed to the torn leather. "It broke."

  "Which means the horses are probably halfway back to the manor by now."

  Margaret nodded, her expression suddenly very solemn.

  "Well, at least they survived."

  "But the gig. . .”

  Carolly glanced at Margaret, noting her shimmering eyes and the trembling lip. The girl was on the verge of losing it. Carolly would have to distract her quickly if she didn't want a bawling child on her hands.

  "Come on. Let's start walking."

  "But Uncle—"

  "Don't think about it." She spoke as much to herself as to Margaret. She didn't dare picture James's reaction to this little disaster, or she'd be the one sobbing in the middle of the road.

  "It's all my fault," Margaret whispered. "All my fault."

  "No," Carolly said quickly. "No, it's our fault. Except that you're a kid. You're supposed to do stupid things. That's part of being a child. I'm an adult. I gave you permission to do a stupid thing, and worse than that, I went along to help." She knelt down to give the girl a hug. "It's not your fault, Margaret. It's mine, and it's past time I started thinking things through instead of just following my impulses." Especially given my current heavenly task, she thought with a swift, mental kick to her rear. Angels were supposed to help people, not smash their gigs, nearly kill their nieces, or generally screw things up even more.

  Carolly look up and down the empty road. "So, which way to do we go?"

  Margaret blinked and looked confused.

  "Is there a farmhouse or something close by? How far is the town? It's a long walk back to the manor."

  "Uh," the girl began. "The town is close, I think. The first houses should be around the next bend. Maybe."

  "Then that's where we'll go." Carolly started to walk, but Margaret held back.

  "No!" the girl said with unusual force and a little bit of horror. "We cannot go there dressed like this
. We must go back to the Manor."

  Carolly stopped and stared at her young charge. "That'll take forever, and you said there were farmhouses just around the corner."

  Margaret folded her arms and looked stubborn.

  Carolly tried again. "We've just been in a bad accident. I'm sure they'll forgive a few mud stains."

  "But you are not wearing a corset, and we look like . . . like servants. Or beggars." Margaret's whole face quivered with revulsion at the idea.

  This from the girl who only a few days earlier had looked like a sullen lump in a shapeless brown dress? "Mags . . ."

  The girl drew herself upright, speaking pompously for all her ten years. "I am the ward of an earl. You are his guest. What we do reflects upon him."

  Carolly dropped her hands to her hips, thoroughly insulted by the child's attitude. "So we'll have them all over to tea!" she snapped. "But we're not going to walk for hours when a warm fire and dry towels are just around the corner."

  "You don't understand! They are already angry at Uncle. If we appear—"

  "What I understand, young lady, is that very soon people are going to miss us. They'll worry, especially when the horses get back. Oh, Lord," she moaned, "your uncle is going to be worried sick."

  Margaret's face set into a mulish pout. "But we look—"

  "We're going. Now."

  Margaret shut her mouth, but her outrage remained, plain for all to see. Carolly simply shook her head and began a quick march down the road. For a moment, she thought Mags would refuse to follow, but eventually the girl stomped after her.

  Children! Carolly thought with annoyance. Who could figure them? She knew they both looked a fright, but they'd had an accident. Surely the townspeople would stop to help a stranger in need, no matter how disreputable they appeared.

  The first person they came across was a large woman with her children in what seemed to be an empty yard. She was stirring something vile in a big cauldron while ragged young children harassed her from all sides.

  "Excuse me, ma'am," Carolly began.

  The woman merely peered up at them and sneered, "Git on. I cain't 'elp ye."