Max came to her side. “Tell us, man. It must be serious for you to come here at this hour.”
“It is, sir.” Dal faced them both. “There has been an accident. A carriage accident. Miss Hecate…”
“Oh God,” breathed Kitty, clutching Max’s arm. “No, please no…”
“She is alive, Miss Kitty, but barely.” He swallowed then. “The gentleman she was with. He did not survive. Neither did the driver of the carriage.”
“Where was this?” Max barked the question.
“Not too far from here,” Dal nodded his head. “A few miles north. I—I came across the wreckage. I was too late to stop it…” His voice shook.
“Dal, she is alive? Where is she?” Kitty’s voice shook a little as well.
Dal drew himself together, visibly straightening. “She is in a small cottage maybe two miles further north from here. An elderly couple were awoken by the sound of the crash even though it was more than a mile from their house. The horses…I rode one here. The other…”
Kitty found tears were falling over her cheeks. “Dal, we must bring Kitty here. How badly is she hurt?” She spun to Max. “Can we do that? Please? I know it’s an imposition but…”
“Hush. Stop. Of course we can.” Max freed himself from her grip. “I shall make sure it’s all taken care of.”
He walked quickly to the door where Deery waited.
Kitty turned back to Dal. “It was a bad crash then?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Very bad. Miss Hecate must have had her God’s hands wrapped around her to have escaped with her life. She was thrown, you see.”
Kitty gulped, trying not to imagine fragile Hecate flying from a tumbling carriage. “Who was she with, Dal? Do you know the gentleman’s name?”
Dal nodded. “I believe so, Ma’am.”
Max returned at that moment. “My coach will be ready in ten minutes. You and I, Dal, will go and fetch Miss Hecate, while you, Kitty,” he flashed her a quick look, “will help Mrs. Timmins and the staff get a room prepared for her. I have already asked Deery to rouse a footman and send him post haste to the nearest physician.”
“Thank you, Max.” She leaned against him for a brief moment. “Thank you so much.”
“Now, Mr. Dal,” said Max. “I’d like the answer to Miss Kitty’s question, if you please. Who was the gentleman with Miss Hecate?”
“I am simply Dal, sir. No other appellation is necessary.” He stared at Max with an unblinking gaze. “The unfortunate deceased gentleman was Mr. Dancey Miller-James.”
*~~*~~*
Max’s heart was thundering as the coach rattled up a bumpy lane twice as fast as it should have.
The dark man beside him was silent, one hand steadying himself on the side of the carriage, but other than that—no sign of emotion at all.
“How did you find her, Dal?”
At Max’s question, Dal turned slightly toward him. “I felt that there would be trouble for her this night.”
“Er…youfelt?”
Light flashed briefly off the gold pin in the turban as Dal nodded. “It must seem strange, sir. But if you know Miss Hecate well…”
“I do not, unfortunately. We have met a time or two, but that’s about it.”
“I see.” The other man looked past Max and out of the window. It was still dark, but there were hints of a brightening now and again, between the hills. “It is not easy to explain, sir. Miss Hecate—she has a gift. There are times when she can see things that others cannot. When she knows things that others do not.” He took a breath. “She has been a friend to my sister and her daughter…they await the return of their father, a soldier with your Wellington. Miss Hecate has spent time teaching all of us better English, especially my dear niece Rihya. In the course of their friendship, I grew to know Miss Hecate and to respect her greatly. Her kindness is boundless, her spirit shines. Her gift is a natural part of her goodness, and something that in my country we would welcome as very special.”
“But here in England…”
“Yes, sir. Here in England, were she to allow her gift to become known, she would be reviled by most.”
