And as the wind increased, turning the drizzle into slashing rain, the driver moved them along at a slower and slower pace.
And then, eventually, drew them to a full stop. The small door between the driver’s box and the interior slid open, letting a hint of the unpleasant conditions blow inside. “Not sure about this bridge ahead,” the coachman announced.
Jasper cursed but was already moving to exit. “I’ll be right out,” he responded.
When he opened the door, the wind whipped it out of his hands, slamming it against the side of the coach. He took a moment to glance back at Nia and sent her a firm look.
“Stay put,” he ordered.
She nodded. And in the next instant, he disappeared into the storm.
Glancing outside the window, Nia could almost believe her father had ordered the storm. He was that much of a force in England.
But despite his influence, along with benefiting from the talents of an excellent driver, they’d had good luck early on, even when they’d traveled through the night.
Which wasn’t at all common.
Even in the few times she and her mother had traveled between London and Bath, they’d met with difficulties. More than once, the deeply rutted roads had caused wheels to break. Once, they’d gotten stuck in mud that had been at least three feet deep, and at least two of the horses pulling them had thrown shoes.
Gretna Green was at least three days’ drive away, and the rain would only make the roads worse.
If, that was, they were able to somehow cross the swelling stream up ahead. And following that, they’d have to deal with mud. After the rain, the ruts would be worse than ever.
Another vehicle drew up behind them, and Nia peered out the window again. What were they doing? Waiting, she decided, was only going to make matters worse.
And once again, she’d been ordered to stay put.
She shifted in her seat. Jasper had said he only expected her to do as he said for her own good. It was the same thing her father told her.
Men’s voices carried across from the bridge. Jasper’s stood out distinctly. “The longer we wait, the more likely it’ll wash out.”
“Or the rain could stop,” another countered—not Coachman Will, but one of the other vehicles’ drivers.
She pressed her face against the glass but couldn’t make out the bridge itself.
Was this one of those circumstances where she ought to assert herself? Was she once again allowing a man to dictate the outcomes of her life?
“Stay put,” he’d told her, rather than asked. She couldn’t allow him to be comfortable in dictating every small aspect of her life. She needed to assert herself. She needed to establish that she would make her own decisions most of the time.
With that decided, Nia opened the door, and as she stepped into the raging storm, she wondered if it was possible for humans to be carried away by the wind.
The Disagreement
Coachman Will hadn’t much choice but to stop. Several trees lay strewn about the road, and the swelling waters in the small river now raged in its bed, carrying branches, logs, and even a few of the heavier rocks, some of which slammed into the half-rotted wooden pilings holding up the structure. Even so, Jasper was convinced they’d be wise to cross before matters worsened.
And they could have, but for the driver of a relic of a coach blocking them. He’d gotten the back wheels stuck in the mud running adjacent to the road, and no one would be able to cross the bridge until the antiquated vehicle was moved.
With a farmer’s cart blocking them from behind, despite riding in one of England’s latest models of carriage, their party was, nonetheless, unequivocally stuck. They were trapped in the middle of nowhere, beside a quickly swelling river, and each of the other drivers had their own ideas for how to untangle it.
Their discussion was quickly descending into an unproductive argument, and if any of them wished to be able to cross the river today, they could not afford to waste any more time.
Catching Coachman Will’s stare, and then that of the outrider who’d been traveling on the box as well, Jasper flicked a glance to the stuck carriage, and with a nod, the three of them went to work pushing and pulling it back onto the road. The two servants got behind and pushed while Jasper grasped the reins on the front horses and pulled. Initially, their efforts seemed in vain, but after slipping and falling the third time, Jasper leaned into the left horse. “Come on, now. Come on,” he shouted.
Head down, the horse put forth one final effort, and the other three followed. Seeing movement, the drivers who’d been arguing rushed over to help as well. And damned if they didn’t get that beast of a coach out of the ditch and onto the road again.
Jasper was covered in mud now, as were the others, but if they wanted to cross before the pilings took any truly damaging hits, or before one of the other vehicles blocked their way again, they needed to be on their way.
Besides that, Nia was waiting in the carriage, and he’d already learned the hard way that patience wasn’t one of her strengths.
