Chapter 2
EVELYN BLACKWELL
I gripped the edge of our carriage window frame, every muscle in my body tense.
This was an inauspicious beginning to one of the most important months of my life.
The happiness of my dearest cousin and my own redemption depended on the success of the house party we were hosting, and now a sudden storm threatened to stop us from reaching Blackwell at all.
At least today. And if we damaged the carriage or injured the horses, we might not make it much earlier than our guests.
Mama and I had counted on having several days to prepare our home for the guests to arrive.
Papa cursed as the carriage slid to one side, knocking my brother Charlie into my side and pushing Mama nearly out of her seat. I rarely heard Papa use such harsh language, but when I did, I made certain to keep note of the words and tone. I never knew when a term like that might come in handy.
This one was bad enough that I wouldn’t have a use for it.
Charlie snickered and I elbowed him in his side.
This was no laughing matter, and even a boy of twelve should know that.
He elbowed me right back. It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him of the seriousness of our situation, but I held back.
If he saw this as an adventure, then at least one of us wouldn’t be panicking.
The pounding rain roared around us and the carriage slogged forward again. Papa pounded on the roof, a motion that usually stopped the carriage, but we plodded ahead. The driver must not have heard his signal over the rain.
“We need to turn around.” Papa’s voice was a low mumble.
He hit the roof again, this time with an astounding force. Dust, hidden so well it had been missed during cleanings, fell from the frame. This time the carriage stopped.
Papa threw open the door and the storm burst into the carriage, wind and rain forcing a gasp from Mama’s throat.
He left as quickly as he could, slamming the door shut behind him.
I could only barely make out the loudest edges of Papa’s instructions to the driver.
I pulled back the curtain and crushed my face against the window, but it was impossible to see anything through the storm.
Mama’s eyes darted about, wide and worried.
When the door burst open again, Papa brought a lake with him, rainwater dripping down his weatherworn face and his soaked coat.
“We passed an abandoned shepherd's croft not far back. We’re turning around. We will stop there and take shelter. I won’t have these horses risking their legs in this storm. ”
Mama nodded, her eyes finally settling on him.
Papa was nothing like his gentlemen friends in London.
He was rough and seasoned from twenty years in the army.
He rarely played cards or drank, which made him less popular at parties, but he didn’t care one whit about the men who would judge him for it.
In short, Papa might not dance as gracefully as others in polite society, but he could be counted on completely in a disastrous situation like this one.
Thank goodness the rest of the traveling party wouldn’t be setting out for several more days. No one else should be caught in our same predicament.
Papa would get this carriage to Blackwell, and he would get us all there in one piece, even the horses.
It took several agonizing minutes to turn the carriage on the narrow road, and Papa finally seemed to relax when we were heading toward certain shelter.
“How much longer until we reach the croft, Papa?” Charlie asked.
He shook his head. “At this pace, at least half an hour. But it is better to go slow and steady.”
And slowly and steadily we went. The carriage slipped several times and each time Mama held tighter onto Papa’s hand. Then, without a warning slip or bump, the carriage suddenly stopped.
I pulled back the curtain. “Are we there?”
Papa shook his head. “No, we can’t be yet.”
Papa stood, but before he could leave, the door opened a crack and our driver Hollister’s wizened face filled it. “There is a felled tree on the road.” He had to shout over the noise of the pounding rain.
Mama’s frown of concern deepened. “Can it be moved?”
“Perhaps.”
“If the groom and I help, do you think it is possible?” Papa asked.
Hollister nodded. “I think it would be.”
Papa turned his eyes on me. “Evelyn, I hate to get you wet, but can you hold the horses?”
I nodded without a second thought. “Of course.”
“I can do it.” Charlie jumped from his seat, anxious not only to leave the carriage, but to prove himself more capable than a sister, even if I was nine years his senior.
If I’d been born to any other father, Charlie would have been the one that was asked, but Papa hadn’t known he would have a son for nearly a decade, and by the time Charlie was born, Papa was already in the habit of including me in almost all of his activities.
Papa fixed Charlie with his dark, commanding eyes.
“I know you can, but your mother needs someone to stay with her. And Evelyn still has several stones on you, which might be needed tonight.” He turned back to me, not waiting to see Charlie’s reaction.
He’d used logic and reason and therefore, any complaints from Charlie would have been superfluous.
Not that either of us argued with Papa when he used that tone. “Come.”
I pulled the collar of my coat closed as tightly as possible at my neck and stood.
“Be careful,” Mama called out to me over the noise of the storm.
“I will be.” I flashed her a confident grin. “I can’t risk ruining Hattie’s house party.”
The moment I stepped out of the carriage the rain and wind attacked me as fiercely as any enemy. I leaned forward into the storm and made it to the front of the carriage. The groomsman handed me the reins and only then did I catch sight of the felled tree that crossed our path.
It was a slender ash tree with a deep gouge of white showing through where the bark had been torn off when it fell. Hollister was already hacking away at some of the branches with an axe.
I placed a hand on the neck of one of the horses. It was slick with rain and sweat. “That’s a good girl,” I said softly, even though I didn’t actually know the sex of our hired horses. “Just a little longer and we will be back on our way. We will find you shelter and rest.”
I continued to speak calmly to them of oats and other things I couldn’t actually promise while the men shouted and worked on removing some of the larger branches of the tree.
Papa took a turn with the ax, swinging into a large branch halfway sunk into the earth and supporting much of the ash’s weight.
With a crack I heard even through the rain, the limb snapped, dropping the tree lower onto the road and flinging a smaller branch through the air directly toward me and the horses.
I shortened my grip on the reins. “Easy . . . ” I started to say in a slow, steady voice, but before I could finish, the branch whipped by me, grazing the nose of the other horse.
With a loud, startled snort, the horse reared.
His raised hooves dripped with mud and water and instantly the reins in my hand were yanked tight as my horse was wrenched to the side.
I dropped the reins. A dislocated arm would do no one any good.
I shifted completely to the side of the horse by me and prayed the rearing horse wouldn’t fall backwards onto the carriage or sideways onto its companion.
Mama and Charlie were in the carriage and Papa had trusted me to keep them safe.
I swallowed my mounting panic and planted my feet firmly on the ground. Making no frantic movements despite how much I wanted to, I took hold of my horse’s bridle with a loose hand and pressed my other hand against its neck. “Steady,” I said, keeping my voice calm and my palm heavy.
No shouts came from behind me, but two calm voices joined mine. “Whoa there.”
“Easy, easy.”
I held my breath, imagining Papa and the groomsman walking up behind me, hushing the horses, and then as soon as it had started, it was over. The horse came down in the exact same spot it had reared. From the corner of my eye, I saw the groomsman take its bridle in the same manner I held mine.
No doubt he was whispering words of comfort to the horse. I closed my eyes and whispered a quick prayer of thanks, then turned, expecting to see Papa coming up behind me.
But he wasn’t.
Papa was on the ground with a hand on his knee, face pale through the pouring rain.
I let go of the bridle and dashed through the mud to Papa.
I dropped down in front of him, heedless of my gown. “What happened?”
“I’m a blasted fool, that’s what happened.” He groaned and once again cursed in front of me. “I turned too fast in this mud. Twisted my knee.”
“Can you walk?”
He gritted his teeth, as much from frustration as pain. “I don’t know.”
I wiped some of the rain off of his cheek with my palm.
He was the strongest of men, but he flinched when he tried to put weight on his twisted knee.
I’d seen Papa sick before, but never injured and never in pain.
I’d always assumed he was too busy to be troubled by something so universally weakening.
“We need to get you back to the carriage.” I dipped lower to put my shoulder under his arm, but he reached out a hand and stopped me.
“Wait,” he said, with a slow, steadying breath. His eyes caught mine and held. “Well done with the horses, Evelyn. Very well.” He gave me an approving nod. “I hate to think what could have happened if you had screamed or tried to pull on the reins.”
“Yes, well.” I forced a smile. “I had a good teacher. Now, let’s get you out of this rain.”
Hollister went to Papa’s other side and together we lifted him to his feet. The groom stayed with the horses and we hobbled to the carriage, Papa putting no weight on his left leg.
Mama had the carriage door open, her eyes wide with concern. When she caught sight of us, she threw the door open even further. “What happened?”