Angelica gasped, and the ferry bucked, throwing them in the air. It happened half a dozen more times before they finished the crossing.
“I do not know how you enjoyed that,” Saffron groaned. Her head throbbed and there was a bitter taste at the back of her throat, like she had sucked on a penny. It had taken all her concentration not to cast up her accounts all over the floor.
The wheels thumped onto the earth as the coachmen led them off the barge. Then they were off again, the horses plodding along a narrow path that was surrounded by dense forest.
As she chewed the inside of her cheek, there was a deafening thunder crack, the sound of splintering wood, and the shriek of horses. The carriage listed to one side, sending all three women sliding into the wall.
“I say!” Rosemary banged on the roof with her fist. “Watch where—”
A low creaking filled the carriage, and then it toppled over.
Saffron’s shoulder hit something hard, and she tumbled onto her back. As she struggled out of the heavy embrace of her skirts,Angelica grabbed for the door high above them. Rosemary lay slumped on her side, her head lolled back.
A jolt of pure fear shot through Saffron. Rosemary looked like her mother, flushed and pale on her sickbed.
“She’s okay,” Angelica said, grasping for the door. She got her fingers around the handle and pushed but couldn’t open it.
“Let me try,” Saffron said, holding her hands against the carriage walls. As she reached up and grasped the handle, something smacked against the side of the carriage.
“Hang on, ’ere,” a rough voice called.
Saffron lunged for Rosemary as Angelica clutched the seats. The carriage groaned again and shifted upright, then settled with one corner lower than the rest. She threw open the door to see the remains of a broken wheel scattered across the road.
“What do we do now?” Angelica asked, clutching her arms around herself.
The driver was standing by the horses. Saffron struggled through the sucking mud to his side, only to realize he was removing the ropes that held one of the two horses to the carriage.
She reached out to grab his cloak, shouting words that were whipped away by the wind. Her fingers tangled in the fabric, and she took a firm grip, pulling with all her strength.
“Miss, it’s every man for himself!” he shouted. Then he waved an arm, and she fell back into the mud, the thick cloak in a heap on her lap. By the time she’d recovered, the coachman was on the horse departing down the road.
They were on their own.
Hold it together, she thought.The others need you.
She struggled out of the mud and pulled the heavy cloak around her shoulders. Although it was as wet as the rest of her clothing, it was wool and provided some warmth. She flipped up the hood and trudged over to the carriage. Their cases hadbroken open and spilled their clothing all over the interior. Angelica kneeled in front of Rosemary, pilling fabric onto the older woman.
“The coachman fled, didn’t he?” Rosemary asked, frowning.
Saffron shrugged the cloak into a more comfortable position around her shoulders. “He took a horse.”
Angelica made a low, keening sound and slumped at Rosemary’s feet. “What are we going to do? We’ll die of cold. I was right, this is hell!”
“Calm yourself,” Rosemary said, kicking at Angelica with her leg beneath the many layers of fabric. “Hysterics will not help us.”
The remaining horse bucked and carried on with its terrible shrieks.
Saffron looked at her family, huddled together in the cold. Water dripped down onto the seat from a crack in the roof. Even if the storm ebbed in the morning, it might be several hours before anyone came down the road. They would catch a chill from the cold and be bedridden for weeks. Or worse, the next person to come by would find three frozen bodies.
They were stuck, and it was her fault. If it were not for her delay in getting transportation, they would have arrived hours earlier. A dizziness worse than the seasickness she’d felt crossing the water washed over her. Panic was setting in. She had to act fast.
“Sister, you have a plan, don’t you?” Angelica asked, her voice pitched higher than usual. “You always have a plan.”
“O-Of course,” Saffron replied, forcing herself to speak with confidence she did not feel. The weight of the situation bore down on her, and a thousand ideas flooded her mind all at once.
Take shelter and wait it out. No. Build a fire, keep warm. No. Take the horse.
She seized upon the last. “I’ll go ahead. Stay here and try to stay warm.”
