James grabbed his hat and shoved it over his ears. He climbed down from the coach and followed Francis. Above the howling wind, Caroline could hear the horses roaring in fear.
The door swung open once more. Francis appeared, holding a lantern. In the pale light, she could see the deep lines of worry on his face. “One of the horses has been injured. The others we are now struggling to free from the harness. We need to bring the coach upright, so you are going to have to come out. I’m sorry, but there is no other way.”
Caroline didn’t hesitate. Handling injured and frightened horses was a tough ask at the best of times. In the middle of a freezing storm, it would only take a slight slip for them to be dealing with a dead animal. Or worse.
She retrieved her heavy travel cloak from her bag and wrapped it around her, tying the laces tightly at her throat. Francis lifted her clear of the coach and stood her on her feet. He held the lantern up and Caroline got her first view of the situation they were in.
“Oh, dear lord,” she muttered.
On the side of the road, James and the head coachman were trying to hold the reins of a panicked horse while the driver’s mate attempted to cut through the reins which had become twisted about the horse’s head. To add to the already dire situation, she could see that the driver’s mate was badly injured. Blood poured from his nose and mouth.
Francis came quickly to their aid and pulled out his own knife, slashing at the tangled reins.
A second horse reared up on its hind legs. James only just ducked out of the way of the slashing hooves.
Caroline looked back down the hill to where she could see lights. Newhall Castle was a mere quarter mile away. In the maelstrom, it seemed a vast ocean.
“I will go for help,” she said.
Francis frowned, but there was no other option. They needed help to get the animals under control and if they stayed out in the storm for much longer, they stood the real chance of catching their deaths. “Take the lantern. It will give you some light. Be careful. The road is already turning slippery under the mud and ice.”
With the men left behind to try and settle the horses, Caroline started on the walk toward Newhall Castle and help.
Sleet lashed her face and stung her eyes. The hood of her cape billowing behind her did little to protect her as the wind continually tested the ties at her throat.
The road was wet and dangerous. Pockets of slippery ice made the going slow and treacherous. Every step held peril as she sought to find purchase in the dark. At one point, she put her foot down only to discover that there was a large rut in the road.
She crashed to her knees. The lantern flew out of her hand and into the black night. She heard it smash on the road, but it was lost from sight in the dark. Placing her hands out in front of her, she attempted to get to her feet.
Her boots slipped on the icy road, and she fell heavily once more. Pain shot through her left hand, leaving her gasping for air.
“Oh!” she cried as stars appeared before her eyes. She had found the broken glass from the lantern.
Pulling off her glove with her teeth, she tentatively touched her left hand. Another bolt of excruciating pain shot up her arm. The cut was deep.
“Come on, Caro, get up. You cannot stay here. People need help,” she muttered.
Struggling to her feet, she stood for a moment, sucking in air. Her heart was pounding. She peered into the night, grateful that the lights from the castle held firm. With slow, unsure steps, she continued toward them.
It took longer than it should have to finally reach the hard, ground of the castle forecourt. It wasn’t a typical castle with moat and drawbridge like her family’s in Scotland. Newhall Castle was more elegant and homely, it dated from a time long after castles needed heavy defenses from armed invaders.
Reaching the front door, she took hold of the giant brass knocker in the shape of a rose and banged it loudly. She took a step back, not bothering to look for shelter. She was soaked to the bone; it was impossible for her to get any wetter. Her injured hand hurt like the devil. Pain throbbed through it constantly.
The door opened and the kindly face of a servant appeared. He took one look at the bedraggled stranger on the doorstep and held out his hand. “Dear, sweet girl, what are you doing out there on a night like tonight?”
She was ushered inside and the door closed against the elements. Relief flooded her mind. She had made it.
“Please, our coach has broken a wheel at the top of the drive. One horse and a groom have been injured. Our coachman and my brother and cousin are attempting to free the horses from their tangled reins. It is a driving icy rain out there; they need help urgently,” she said.
The castle footman dashed over to one side of the door and picked up a bell. Holding it in both hands, he rang it loud and long. Within minutes, the front foyer of the castle was filled with servants.
Caroline quickly explained the rest of the story to the castle steward who organized a cart and a team of men to head to where the others were waiting. A maid brought her a towel.
Caroline attempted to untie the laces of her cloak, but her damaged left hand refused to work. Finally, she stood and waited while the maid worked to loosen the tight knots. With the ties finally open, the maid slipped the cloak from Caroline’s shoulders.
Julian appeared at the top of the stairs. There was a hive of activity about the front door with servants hurrying to and fro. A stranger in a dark green gown stood in the midst of the action. He raced down.
“Go and find some dry clothes for this young lady,” he ordered the maid.
