Chapter Nine
Duncan groaned and opened his eyes. Someone was stroking his face—the left side, where the scars were.
“You suffered burns,” Augusta murmured.
He looked down at his feet and saw that his gold porcelain mask had shattered.
He had hoped to keep his scarred face hidden until they reached Bamford Park.
Fortunately, Augusta wasn’t screaming or recoiling in disgust. At the moment, he couldn’t afford to worry about her reaction to his injured face.
The carriage accident was serious and needed attention.
White-hot pain shot through his arm, and he realized he was still gripping the leather strap. Yet his arm was at an unnatural angle.
Augusta followed his gaze and cried out, “Your arm! Is it broken?”
“I believe the shoulder is dislocated. It happened before, during the war. Can you assist me? My fingers. I cannot loosen them.” Glancing around, Duncan noted that the carriage was on its side. The passenger door was above them, and they were lying against the opposite door.
Augusta stretched upward, gradually freeing his fingers from the strap.
His arm hung limply at his side as searing pain made him cry out.
With great effort, he managed to stand. “Stay where you are,” he commanded.
“There’s shattered glass everywhere.” Duncan knew he was barking orders, just like the army captain he used to be, but he had to assess the damage outside before worrying about anything else.
Rain seeped through the cracked window in the carriage door. He struggled to pull himself up, hampered by only one functional arm. “Patrick!” he shouted. “Patrick! Briggs!”
A terrible thought crossed his mind: Had both men perished? Outside passengers always sustained the worst injuries in a carriage accident.
Amid the gale-force wind, he heard it, and it was drawing closer. Patrick shouted in reply, “Duncan!”
Patrick opened the door and dropped into the carriage. “I was thrown clear; some shrubbery broke my fall. Midnight is tied to a tree, seemingly uninjured.”
It was then that Duncan heard the whinnies. “And Dawn?”
Patrick shook his head. “The splinter bar and harness gave way. Midnight was loose, but Dawn tumbled with the carriage. I found him, standing near the carriage. I don’t know the various parts of a horse, but I believe he has a sprain between his knee and hoof.
The leg is not broken, as far as I can tell. ”
Duncan felt a tightening in his chest. “And Briggs?”
“I could not find him, not at first glance. I believe he was thrown clear, as I was. Where he landed, I know not.”
“We must find him.”
Augusta gasped and stepped forward, crying out as she put weight on her foot. He ran to her and dropped to his knees. With his free hand, he felt along her ankle. “Does that hurt?” he asked.
“I don’t think it’s broken. It might be a sprain,” Augusta replied shakily.
Duncan stood. “I have to see to Dawn and find Briggs. We will check your ankle afterward. Do not put any pressure on it.”
Patrick pointed to his shoulder. “You cannot climb out of the carriage. Not with that.”
“We have no time to waste,” Duncan replied, determined.
“Then lie on your stomach. We’ve done this before, more than once.” Patrick began massaging Duncan’s injured shoulder as Duncan grimaced in pain. Patrick braced his knee against Duncan’s shoulder and pulled.
Then he heard the decided pop sound, and he cried out. “Damn and blast it!”
Patrick assisted him in standing. “You will need to put that in a sling.”
“Later.”
With Patrick’s help, they climbed out of the carriage into the cold, stinging rain that felt like needles. It wasn’t just rain; ice was mixed in. “Look for Briggs. I will tend to Dawn.”
Duncan lowered to his haunches, running the tips of his fingers along Dawn’s leg.
He found it, on the cannon, between the knee and the hoof, as Patrick said.
A decided warmth and slight swelling. When Duncan touched the area, Dawn snorted and jerked his leg.
Thank God the horse wasn’t injured worse.
“Duncan! I found him!”
Duncan took part of the rein still attached to Dawn and looped it around a tree. Then he followed Patrick’s voice to the other side of the wreckage. Patrick pointed to the ground. A gloved hand extended outward from beneath the smashed carriage.
Dear God. The carriage had fallen on Briggs. How bloody awful.
Patrick felt for a pulse. He shook his head in dejection. “We can only hope his death was swift and merciful,” he said in a low voice.
“We have to extricate Briggs. We cannot leave him there,” Duncan yelled, trying to be heard over the howling wind and thunder.
Together, they lifted part of the carriage enough to slide Briggs free. The poor man looked like a broken doll.
“His neck is broken,” Patrick observed sadly. “Death was indeed swift.”
“Thank God he didn’t suffer. I will fetch the tarp from the rear of the carriage, and we will wrap him in it.
” Duncan ran to the back of the carriage, where he found their trunks smashed and their clothes and belongings floating in the mud.
Cursing, he untied the tarp that had covered the trunks and returned to Patrick.
Silently and reverently, they laid Briggs on the tarp and secured it. There was no time to mourn his coachman. Not now. “Let’s head back to the carriage. We need to discuss what to do next,” Duncan suggested.
Once inside, Duncan immediately attended to Augusta.
He unlaced her boot, removed it, then gently rotated her ankle as she inhaled.
“Not broken. There’s a mercy. But it’s already starting to swell.
As you said, a sprain.” Duncan removed the laces from the boot and slipped it back onto her stocking foot.
“Mr. Briggs?” Augusta asked as he stood.
“He did not make it. We found him beneath the carriage,” Duncan replied solemnly.
Damn and blast, what a loss. This accident was his fault.
If only he hadn’t insisted they leave. They should have stayed another day, regardless of the inconvenience to others.
Yet another death on his already battered conscience.
First, his cousin, Jon, then his uncle, who died of a broken heart, and now Briggs.
Augusta cried out, her hand clamped over her mouth. “Oh, that poor man. Did he have any family?”
“As far as I know, he was taken in by my uncle as an orphan. We will see that he receives a proper burial. But first, we need to plan our escape from this perilous situation. Dawn has a sprain. Patrick, you said Midnight is uninjured?”
“As far as I could tell. I was lucky to catch him, since he was clearly spooked by the accident. Midnight ran free before the carriage slid and tumbled down the embankment. That was what saved me, as I held his reins and was thrown forward. There was nothing Briggs could do to prevent the disaster. The front wheel and the axle shattered into shards, as did the rear one.” Patrick shook his head sadly.
“Briggs did his best to minimize the damage. Only his deft handling of the carriage saved us all from being killed.”
“His sacrifice will not be forgotten,” Duncan replied solemnly. “As for our escape, the three of us cannot fit on Midnight. Dawn cannot handle riders or weight of any kind. We need to find shelter. How far are we from Stoneheath?”
“At least fifteen miles or more,” Patrick replied.
“Another concern. Before the accident, Briggs said the temperature was dropping precipitously and that the rain would soon turn to snow. He said we were in for a devil of a storm.” Patrick rubbed his chin.
“I saw a small farmhouse not a mile and a half from the way we came. We can take shelter there.”
“Good. We will go there, then I will ride on to Stoneheath for help.”
“No, Duncan. I will go,” Patrick interjected.
“I am uninjured, and you will have to admit I’m the better horseman.
Besides, your shoulder will be tender for a while.
You will not be able to handle Midnight in this cursed storm.
Both you and the duchess were thrown about inside.
You will soon notice the effects, such as bruising and discomfort.
I can reach Stoneheath sooner. Also, Dawn needs rest to recover from the sprain.
We will get you all settled at the farmhouse, then I will ride onward. ”
“You will never make it before the sun sets,” Augusta said, worried.
“I have to try, Your Grace. Briggs told me there is a large farm operation five miles outside Stoneheath. Mr. Tobey is used to taking in travelers in such circumstances. I just have to mention Briggs’s name, and I will find shelter there, if needs must.”
Duncan knew his friend spoke sense. His shoulder ached like the very devil; there was no way he could travel as swiftly as Patrick.
And blast it, Patrick was the better horseman, as he had proven in Spain more than once during the Peninsular War.
“And Briggs?” Duncan asked softly. He could hear the agony in his own voice.
“As you said, Dawn cannot handle any extra weight. We cannot bring him,” Patrick replied.
“We cannot just leave him here!” Duncan yelled.
“We will place him inside the carriage. He will be protected from the elements and any predators. What happened to him is horrible, but I will return with help as soon as I can.”
Duncan knew, deep down, that Patrick’s plan was sound.
“Then we must make haste.” Duncan pulled everything from the seat storage.
“I am glad I won all that money at the Lyon’s Den, for it will come in handy.
” Grabbing a saddlebag, he handed it to Patrick.
“The pistols, and some powder. I will take one, you take the other. Here is some fifty pounds, and food.” Duncan opened the hamper and passed Patrick bread, cheese, and part of the venison pie.
“Here, take some extra powder for the pistol. Do you require anything else?”
“The lighter I travel, the better. This should suffice. I suggest we bring what we can. The farmhouse did not look prosperous.”
“I think it would be wise not to use our titles at this farmhouse,” Augusta suggested.
“Very astute, indeed,” Duncan replied, impressed.
“We are Mr. and Mrs. Bamford and a servant. If asked, I will say I hold a middling position at a bank.” Duncan quickly packed the contents of the bench seats into the large burlap sacks.
He tossed a rope to Patrick. “We will tie the duchess’s case and the hamper to Midnight’s saddle for our journey to the farmhouse. ”
“You and the duchess ride the horse. I will walk alongside, leading Dawn. With that shoulder, you cannot sling those sacks. I’ll take them. Do you think you can manage Midnight for a mile or so?” Patrick said.
Duncan nodded. “Can Dawn handle the mile walk?”
“He will have to. We cannot leave him here.”
“Then let us depart.”
It took some doing to get everything out of the carriage, but after they loaded Midnight, Patrick and Duncan lowered Briggs into the carriage and shut the door.
The rain-ice mixture had already turned to snow.
It had grown even colder—certainly not a good sign.
The wind was strong, causing drifting snow, and the dark, substantial clouds meant more flurries were imminent.
The ride to the farmhouse would be slow, not only because of the weather but also because of Dawn’s injury; they dared not travel any faster.
Duncan grasped Augusta’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze, then he kissed her on the forehead. This marked a less-than-ideal beginning to their marriage. Regardless of what lay ahead, he was determined to protect her at all costs. Already, she had become most precious to him.