Chapter Eight
Augusta awoke to a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” she said.
The maid, Hannah, entered carrying a tray. “Tea and toast, as ordered, Your Grace.”
Augusta yawned and sat upright, and the maid set the tray on Augusta’s lap.
“Mrs. Jemison asked if you need me for anything else, Your Grace?”
“Yes. If you could, please return in about twenty minutes to help me dress. I also have that to be taken away.” She pointed to the covered chamber pot. “You and Mrs. Jemison have been a great help. I will see to it that the duke rewards you for your trouble.”
The maid curtsied, grasped the pot’s handle, and departed.
Augusta sighed as she poured her tea. Oh, the indignities of being on her courses while traveling.
After breakfast, Mrs. Jemison came up to her room and she and Hannah did everything in their power to make her comfortable, including offering her a glass flask of hot water wrapped in a blanket to place against her cramping body.
Mrs. Jemison also supplied her with a fresh supply of cloth pads while removing the soiled ones.
If Augusta had her way, she would spend the day in bed.
But that was impossible. By the time Duncan came to the room shortly after twelve, she was dressed and packed, and was sitting in the chair by the fire. A young man followed Duncan into the room.
Duncan pointed to the medium-sized trunks. “They are to go on the back of the coach.” He picked up Augusta’s traveling case. “And this is to go inside the carriage.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Duncan came toward her, and before she could speak, he swept her up into his arms. “Duncan!”
“You are unwell. Allow me to carry you to the carriage.”
They were out the door and halfway down the stairs before she could reply. Duncan carried her as if she weighed nothing at all. Everyone stared at the sight, but Augusta didn’t mind. She looped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder. How thoughtful. And how strong he was.
The carriage was out front, and raindrops splashed against her face.
“We will be departing immediately,” Duncan said as he settled her on the bench seat.
He quickly positioned her sideways on the seat, so her feet were raised.
A quilt, similar to the one from their room, was neatly folded at the end of the bench.
Duncan draped it over her. A large hamper was set on the floor, and Duncan stepped inside as someone handed him other items.
“A warming brick for your feet.” He placed it under the quilt, and Augusta sighed contentedly at the kind gesture.
“And a hot water bottle.” Duncan handed the blanket-wrapped flask to her.
“And lastly, a feather pillow.” He gently placed it behind her head.
“And if you need another quilt and pillow, we have the ones in the bench seat.”
“You have thought of everything. Thank you,” Augusta murmured, feeling quite touched. A man as considerate as he was could not be as emotionally detached as he had seemed yesterday. Duncan Bamford was clearly a man of shifting moods. Was it something she had said? She would discuss it later.
Duncan settled into the bench seat across from her, and they soon began moving.
“Will McGloin and Briggs be safe from the heavy rain?” she asked, staring out the window. The raindrops had turned into a steady shower.
“My father had the dukedom carriages renovated. The roof was extended forward to cover the coachman’s and any rider’s heads.
There is also a partial wall along the sides of the seating area.
It should protect them from the worst of it, unless the rain comes in sideways or directly into their faces.
They are also wearing appropriate garments for the journey. How kind of you to inquire.”
“You should know it now, but I am a bit of a worrier. Should we give them some food from the hamper before we travel any further?”
Duncan shook his head. “I believe the three of us ate enough for a table of six patrons this morning. If they become hungry, they can knock on the window behind me, and I’ll pass them food. Have you had enough to eat?”
Augusta smiled warmly. “For the moment, thank you.”
“Then why not rest? Perhaps take a nap?”
“I believe I will.” Gathering the hot bottle to her side and planting her feet firmly on the brick, she curled onto her side, facing Duncan. Augusta’s eyes grew heavy, and she soon drifted off to sleep.
She was abruptly awakened by a sudden jolt of the carriage and the sound of Duncan’s voice calling her name. She blinked rapidly and met Duncan’s concerned gaze. “What happened?”
“The weather has deteriorated rapidly in the past hour. Here, let us store your items in the bench seat.” Augusta stood, and Duncan gathered the pillow, blanket, and the rest. He opened the seat latch, stuffed the bedding into a burlap sack, and closed the lid.
Good heavens. The carriage rocked violently as it struggled against the howling winds, and the steady drum of rain.
Augusta gripped the edges of the seat as thunder rumbled overhead, making her start.
It felt as if the carriage were hardly moving at all.
Then a gust of wind tilted the conveyance dangerously to one side, and then the other.
How had such an intense storm come out of nowhere?
And she had slept through it? Astounding.
Turning partway, she pulled aside the curtains and glanced outside.
A jagged crack of lightning bolted across the sky.
The road had become a sea of mud, and the horses were obviously straining to move forward.
Alarmed, Augusta was about to speak when the carriage began to slide sideways.
She could hear the horses in distress, whinnying loudly over the storm, and the shouts of Mr. Briggs and Mr. McGloin.
Duncan gathered her into his arms and pulled her close.
“Hold on to me!” he shouted as he grabbed the leather strap above him.
The carriage rocked from side to side, the wood groaning under the strain, and Augusta clutched Duncan’s waist, holding on tight.
They were heading in a downward trajectory, as if plunging off an embankment.
With a splintering of wood, a wheel came off the conveyance.
The carriage pitched to the left, slamming them against the wall.
Then the carriage tumbled down a steeper embankment.
They were tossed around inside so violently that Augusta saw stars.
Throughout it all, Duncan never loosened his grip on her.
Augusta clung to him for dear life. The cacophony of sounds was terrifying indeed.
The servants’ yelling, the horses in obvious anguish, wood breaking, all mixed with thunder, lightning, pounding rain, and roaring winds.
Then everything went dark.