Page 90 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“I’m thankful for my cloak. For the warm bath waiting for me. For the fact that someone knows where I am and will send help shortly, for the lantern to see by…”

As if on cue, the lantern snuffed out, leaving her in utter darkness.

CHAPTER 28- STEPHEN

At the crossroads, Stephen frowned. For a moment, he thought he saw… There it was again—a flash of light on the smaller path to his right. He reined in his horse and waited. Mr. Frederick and Vera had taken the long way around; that explained the delay.

Stephen frowned, wondering why they’d travelled so far out of their normal route. Mr. Frederick had been reared in this area of the countryside—he knew the small lanes just as well as Stephen did. Perhaps Stephen’s trip had been an exercise in futility. Here he sat, damp and bedraggled, and they were only just late.

However, when the beam of light got closer, it was a lone horseman holding the lantern, not the cart Stephen had been expecting.

“Mr. Frederick?” Stephen called above the wind when the man drew nearer. “Where’s Vera? What’s happened?”

The man frowned. “Horses spooked and drove us right into the gulley. The cart’s stuck and we couldn’t get the other horse loose. Miss Vera is safe enough—she’s waiting in the cart. I’m going to get help to pull the branch off so we can get the other horse free.”

“Branch? What branch?”

“From the lightning that hit the tree.”

“You were nearly struck by lightning?”

Mr. Frederick frowned. “No, my lord. ’Twas the tree that was struck by lightning. Not us.”

Stephen shook his head. “How far back is the cart?”

“A couple of miles, maybe less, maybe more. Somewheres between here and the fork, but you can’t miss it on a road this small.”

“Go on ahead to the house. Bring men back, and tell the household to prepare a hot meal and warm water for baths. Everyone out in this should have one once they’re finished.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Stephen nodded and steered his horse down the dark lane. He could have asked for the lantern, but his eyes were well enough that he could make out the road, even in this gloom.

As he rode, he nursed an unfair anger toward Mr. Frederick. What was he thinking, leaving Vera all alone on the side of the road in a broken cart? There could be brigands!

Granted, it would have to be a particularly desperate brigand to be out in this weather, but still—desperate brigands were the worst kind of brigand. And sure, there weren’t many who travelled small cart paths looking for prey—they usually stuck to the main thoroughfares that attracted wealthy carriages and offered clean getaways—but sometimes danger lurked in the last place you’d expect!

Of course, that horse couldn’t have held the both of them—Mr. Frederick and Vera—but Mr. Frederick could have led the horse through the storm. Certainly that would have taken longer, but perhaps Mr. Frederick could have jogged alongside or something. There was simply no excuse.

It was perhaps a quarter hour later when a shape came barreling toward him out of the storm. It was the horse—the one that Mr. Frederick had claimed was stuck—wearing only its bridle. It stood there shivering and prancing in the middle of the road like a harbinger of doom. Stephen dismounted, his heart pounding. His boots squelched in the mud.

How had the horse gotten free if it were truly as stuck as Mr. Frederick thought? If Vera had managed to get it free by herself, why wasn’t she riding the blasted thing?

Stephen gave a cursory inspection for injuries, took up the horse’s lead, remounted, and rode faster through the night, chased by all his terrible imaginings.

Much later—hours or days, if one was to ask Stephen how long it felt, though in actuality probably only a quarter of an hour—Stephen’s breath froze in his lungs.

The cart was tilted at a terrible angle, half-submerged in the small ravine. Vera was nowhere in sight.

“Vera?” he called, throwing himself down from the saddle. “Vera?”

Against the backdrop of the howling wind, he heard perhaps the sweetest sound ever.

“Here I am,” she called.

A sodden, cloaked figure emerged from beneath the half-fallen tree.

“What are you doing? Get away from there; it’s dangerous.”