Chapter Sixteen
They overnighted at Leicester. The following morning revealed a light snowfall in the streets, but within a mile or so of leaving the main city roads, they found themselves staring out at meadows covered in several inches of snow.
“How far is it to Newhall from here?” asked Caroline.
Francis looked up from his book and frowned. “Another twenty-odd-miles. Depending on the roads, it will be late before we arrive. The coachman told me this morning that there are several villages between here and Newhall Castle, so if we have to make an unplanned stop, we should be able to find suitable accommodation.”
“Good. I would hate to be caught out in the dark in the middle of a snowstorm,” replied Caroline. Her love for snow only went so far. No one wanted to find themselves on the road, in the dark, in the middle of a snow storm. They agreed to press on and try to make the castle before nightfall.
“So, who else is going to be at this party, do we know?” asked James.
Caroline began to wrack her brains, but couldn’t come up with anyone she was certain to be at Newhall Castle. “To be honest, I am not sure. From what the countess said, I expect it will be almost every girl in the upper levels of thehaute tonwho did not secure a husband this season, but who is still considered eligible. That makes a good dozen or so young ladies, and of course, me.” she replied.
Eligible meant being in possession of all of her teeth and a generous dowry. Men of title did not normally marry for foolish notions like love; they married women who could add to the estate coffers. Women who could be trusted to supply their husbands with an heir and turn a blind eye to any mistresses who may happen to pop up from time to time.
The thought stopped her for a moment. She had a good set of teeth, and due to her father’s excellent business brain, both she and Eve had been bestowed with sizeable dowries. But the notion of marrying someone for anything other than love was not something she was prepared to consider.
Lord Newhall would no doubt find a nice amenable girl in the house party group to marry, and Caroline would never have to worry about dancing with him again.
“You are one of the selected young ladies that Newhall put on his list of potential brides, dear cousin. Hmm. Caroline Palmer, Countess Newhall. It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think, Francis?” said James.
“I think Caro would make a fine countess. Pity she has been rude to poor Newhall on every occasion she has met him. A chap might find it hard to form a sense of affection for a girl who treats him poorly. The fact that he was prepared to let you fall into the Serpentine does not bode well for your chances of securing his heart,” replied Francis.
Caroline caught her brother’s grin, but decided not to take the bait. She had promised to be agreeable during the house party and she was going to start before they arrived. A deal was a deal.
“And what about you, James? Are you wishing to know who is coming so you can perhaps look the field over? See which of the starters might take your own fancy?” said Francis.
James huffed. “I am not the only one of our travelling party who is still unwed. Perhaps you should speak for yourself, Francis. Or if not, then holding your tongue might be the wiser option. I don’t wish to hear anyone’s opinion about my marital status thank you very much.”
There was a distinct angry edge to his words that caught Caroline off guard. Francis looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face.
Caroline resisted the temptation to respond. She had her suspicions as to the reason for James’s terse words. Something to do with his best friend Guy, getting married in a couple of weeks. It had not passed her notice that every time someone mentioned the forthcoming nuptials James would go quiet or suddenly leave the room. The week away at Newhall Castle would perhaps present her with the opportunity to speak with him and get to the bottom of his uncharacteristically dour mood of late.
Francis went back to his book, leaving Caroline and James to play another hand of Piquet. When Caroline won for the fourth time in succession, James handed her his cards and refused to play again.
It was late in the afternoon when they passed the road marker at Midway and made the turn off the main road to Burton-on-Trent. It began to snow, and as the temperature dropped, the snow turned into rain. The rain eventually became icy sleet.
Caroline looked out the window at the fading light, and silently prayed they would make it to Newhall Castle before the weather completely closed in. She retrieved a thick woolen scarf from her travel bag and wrapped it around her neck. The air soon turned chilly.
The icy rain drove hard against the coach. She spared a thought for the coachman and his mate up on top. They would be bearing the brunt of the weather. Fortunately, they had a short distance left to cover before they could find the comfort of a warm fire and a stiff drop of whisky to take the chill from their bones.
The road they now travelled was little more than a narrow track, full of ruts and large holes. The coach bounced through several of these, one of which had James out of his seat and scrambling for the leather holding-strap to save himself from harm.
There was little to be seen out of the coach window. The glass box on the side of the coach which contained a lit candle threw the barest of light. They were travelling in near total darkness.
The coach slowed. The horses barely made a brisk walk along the wet, muddy road.
“Lights ahead!” came the cry from the top of the coach.
A sigh of relief came from all the passengers. Soon they would be at their journey’s end. Caroline packed away the cards and her small piece of needlework, and closed up her travel bag. She had just sat back in her seat when the coach dropped heavily and she heard the sickening sound of breaking wood.
The coach came to an immediate halt, then began to tilt to one side. She tumbled from her seat and crashed into James. Putting his arms around her, he managed to draw her safely back onto the bench. The coach remained tilted at a dangerous angle.
“Stay here. I will check on the driver and his assistant,” said Francis.
He opened the coach door and jumped down. The wild wind seized the door and slammed it hard behind him as he disappeared into the darkness.
A few minutes later, he poked his head inside. He was soaked through. “We have broken a wheel. The horses are in distress and we shall have to unhitch them. James, you will need to help us,” he shouted.
