Chapter 9 #2
A quarter of an hour later I returned to her, muddied to my knees and very likely filthy elsewhere, though I did not examine the state of my cuffs.
I stepped into my coach, took the seat across from her, and spoke succinctly, for this was not the time for ambiguous language.
“I am afraid we have few options, Miss Elizabeth. There are no rooms to be had, no horses either, and the crowd is becoming…uglier.”
“Oh,” she said quietly.
“I suggest we send your coach back to Hunsford, for the men have no will to press on, their horses are strained, and moreover, they are unprepared to protect you should they become mired. I cannot recommend you turn back with them, but if that is your wish, we shall follow behind until such time as I see you safely at the parsonage.”
“I have no wish to go back and even less so, if doing so would force you to change your plans. Is there any hope of going forwards?”
“My coachman suggests we make the attempt. The roads will be less travelled at this time of day, and now, after so many have become stuck here with horses that can pull no longer, we may find the going slightly easier. My team is still yet fresh enough to try for Bromley.”
“Let us do that, sir,” she said earnestly.
“Very well. I shall have my horse saddled.”
“Surely, you will not ride in this weather, sir? I would rather go back inside that posting house than incommode you so dreadfully.” Then, more quietly she said, “I have no maid, but perhaps we could hire someone—” Her voice broke off as Keller appeared at the door of the coach looking quite harassed.
“If we do not move this instant, Mr Darcy, we shall be too pressed in to do so before tomorrow.”
“Saddle my horse, then, and quickly.” I turned back to Miss Elizabeth. “Do not look so cast down. It is only a little rain, and I have been seated in this confining box for too long.”
It took a good ten minutes for us to simply turn around.
No one was amenable to making way for us, but between myself, my two grooms, and Keller’s wicked whip, we managed.
Carsten, meanwhile, had busied himself in securing Miss Elizabeth’s trunk and saw it strapped alongside my own.
We awaited him for a few minutes even after we were ready to take to the road, but when he finally returned, I saw what he had been about.
He had a plain carpet bag, a tin of biscuits, and a flask of flat ale. With a businesslike air as he put them on the bench beside the lady, he said. “Forgive me for the delay, sir, but I have taken the liberty of securing a few things you may need if we suffer any additional setbacks.”
The refreshments, I understood—the bag I did not.
However, he had likely gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to obtain it, and after he closed the door to the coach, I lowered my voice so as not to be overheard by the lady who was observing us from the window and asked him plainly for an explanation.
“If we are stranded, I cannot open the trunks in a downpour without ruining everything inside them, sir. At the moment there is only a heavy mist, and if we may take one more moment, I suggest we secure a few things in your valise and the bag I brought for the lady as a precaution.”
“A precaution?” I said coldly, for I was anxious to be away and out of the cold, wet mud.
“A change of undergarments and dry socks for you, among other things, sir, and whatever the lady might similarly need should we be turned over in a ditch and forced to pass the night.”
“I have never been stuck in a ditch in all my life. Let us get to Bromley where you may fuss over our trunks all you like.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, but his acquiescence was so unconvincing that I was forced to admit to myself that were we stranded, I would be glad of his forethought, so I grumblingly gave him three minutes.
Keller was understandably frustrated, but we had moved to the road at least. After a brief explanation to her, Carsten escorted Miss Elizabeth to where the trunks were strapped, and with the footmen holding umbrellas over the scene, they secured what we might need in case of catastrophe.
The wisdom of Carsten’s having taken this initiative eventually became evident. Our progress was dreadfully impeded, and by full dusk we were forced to stop three times to push the coach from behind, lest we become mired beyond the strength of the team.
When we came to a stand for the fourth time, I wearily dismounted and joined my men.
This time, however, we confronted a depressing scene.
A dray had turned over on its side, a half-dozen oxen stood pell-mell in the road, and around this wreck were a number of carts and carriages sunk to their axles in the mud after having stood still too long.
As one, my men and I looked around us, speechless, as we comprehended the impassability of this obstacle.
“I do not know if I can turn them around, sir,” Keller said soberly from where he stood at the leader’s head holding the bridle.
I knew we were in serious difficulty when he did not look sideways at me and suggest offhand that we should have perhaps not travelled at all.
This was not the time or place for a lecture, and he knew it.
We spoke in low voices for about a minute. “Bear with me a moment,” I said gravely.