Page 8 of Discovering Grace

“How dare she?” Hope gasped. She glanced briefly at Grace. “It is a race.”

Grace’s hands gripped the side of the phaeton, her fingers going numb. “Hope, no! Papa said—” She had to swallow the rest of her words when their ponies lunged forward at Hope’s urging. For such short, stout fellows, they moved at an alarming speed.

Lord Neil’s laughter floated back to them, and they could hear his sister screeching insults. Whether her unladylike words were directed at her ponies, her brother, or the Everlys, Grace did not know or care. She merely gripped the side and seat as they hit small ruts and dips in the road.

The lack of suitability of both the horses and conveyance, Hope had accustomed herself and them to riding about at a fast speed. She soon caught her rival, a broad grin on her face, and started to overtake Lady Olivia. Grace ground her teeth together and closed her eyes, hating every jolt of the wheels. Nothing good could come from this.

“Olivia,” Lord Neil’s deep voice shouted, sounding serious. “Stop!”

Grace opened her eyes, confused at why a man who exuded reckless confidence would call a halt to what had amused him but moments before.

A bend in the road ahead. At the speed they went, alongside each other as they were, it would not be a safe turn. “Hope, slow down,” she yelled.

Neither woman listened nor yielded. “She will stop first,” Hope shouted, leaning forward in her seat. “See if she doesn’t!”

A closed carriage appeared before them, coming their direction and moving around the bend that already promised disaster. Grace opened her mouth, to reason with her sister, but it was too late. Instead, she screamed and grabbed at the reins herself.

Hope pulled at them herself, trying to stop her ponies. They tossed their heads and skidded, pulling to one side. Their phaeton went sideways on one wheel for an alarming moment, then crashed back down to all four wheels, a horrible crack sounding before the entire conveyance tilted heavily to the side. Something had broken.

Heart slamming against her ribs as if to escape the calamity, Grace could hardly breathe. She had hold of the reins with one hand and her seat with the other, her fingers gripping each so hard she did not think she would ever be able to unbend them.

A shrill scream brought her attention forward in time to see the other phaeton tilt sideways, and overturn into a ditch, the ponies’ screaming covering any sound made by the people inside.

The oncoming carriage pulled to the side, its horses stamping and heaving, the driver struggling to obtain control of them.

Grace darted out of their phaeton where it listed to the side and hurried across the road. Her bonnet flew off as she ran, her shoes hitting the ground with force in her haste.

“Lady Olivia,” she shouted, running into the ditch. “Lord Neil!”

“We are here,” the man’s voice shouted. The phaeton shook. Then she heard him muttering. “Crawl out, Livy.”

Hope came stumbling down the ditch and then hurried past, on her way to check on the whimpering ponies. The other carriage driver appeared beside Grace, his face pale and his cheeks puffing with his breath.

“Help me lift here, miss,” he directed, pointing to the side of the overturned vehicle before grabbing it himself. Grace took hold where he showed and added her meager strength to his greater effort in lifting the vehicle. They managed to create a few more inches clearance, and Lady Olivia’s head appeared, her hair in her face and her bonnet hanging behind her. She crawled out, her gloves digging for purchase in the ground. Her face was covered in dirt and tears.

Lord Neil came out next, sliding out on his back and pushing with his legs. Bile rose in Grace’s throat when she saw why he did not crawl as his sister had. One of his arms had been gashed open, the fabric of his coat split to reveal a terrible red slash of blood and flesh down his forearm. He held it against his chest with his other arm, protecting the injury.

The carriage driver cursed, without apology. “We need to get you to a doctor, sir.” Then he stood and surveyed the women. “Is anyone else hurt?”

Sitting in the dirt with her arms wrapped around herself, Lady Olivia shook her head. Grace did the same. Hope shouted from the front of the wreckage, “One of the ponies is limping, but otherwise they seem well.”

“Lord Neil’s arm is injured,” Grace shouted, aware her sister had not seen it. She swallowed and went to Lady Olivia, holding her hands out to help her up. Face pale and eyes unfocused, Lady Olivia allowed the assistance.

“Mr. Harvey,” a voice shouted from the carriage. “What has happened?”

The carriage driver put his arms beneath Lord Neil and lifted him to his feet. “An accident, my lady. We need to get this young man to the doctor.”

Grace put her arm around Lady Olivia’s waist and guided her across the road to the carriage, following the coachman. Hope appeared at Lady Olivia’s other side, her blue eyes wide with worry.

“Oh, Lady Olivia, I am so sorry,” Hope whispered.

The dazed young woman did not answer. Grace shook her head at her sister. “Now is not the time.”

The carriage belonged to a baroness making her way through the county to visit a friend. The woman brought the injured man and his sister inside the carriage, but Hope and Grace insisted on remaining with the frightened ponies. After promising to send help, the carriage went on its way.

Grace and Hope barely spoke to one another, the seriousness of what had happened, the tragedy that nearly occurred, weighing down their spirits and words. They removed the ponies, all four, from the phaetons and released them into a meadow near the road. Their phaeton’s axel had broken, so they could not go home even had they wished to. Then they sat on a rise on the other side of the ditch, away from the wreckage.

“I am sorry,” Hope whispered after they had sat silent for a time. “I do not know what came over me.” The last word was accompanied by a choked sob.