But there was no use bemoaning her fate, as it was, alas, sealed. She glanced up at the menacing sky, her heart thudding in time with the pelting rain, the darkness pressing in on her, her ears ringing from the merciless roar of the wind.
“Juliet? You look positively despairing, dearest. I don’t imagine we’re in for a pleasant walk, but we’ll muddle through some—”
“No.” Juliet caught Lady Fosberry’s hands in a desperate squeeze. “I think… I think it would be best if you waited here, my lady, and I went on my own.”
“Certainly not! Why, it’s out of the question. Indeed, Juliet, I forbid it!”
“I’m afraid we haven’t much choice, my lady. Surely, you must see that?”
“But you can’t just go wandering about in the dark alone! It isn’t…” Lady Fosberry’s hands fluttered as she searched for the proper word.
Safe? Rational? Sane? Sadly, any one of those would do. “It isn’t what?”
“It isn’t ladylike!”
Ladylike?Juliet opened her mouth, and amazingly, a choked laugh emerged. It did, admittedly, sound a trifle unhinged, but a laugh was a laugh, even if it was tinged with hysteria.
After a moment of startled silence, Lady Fosberry let out a forlorn chuckle. “I suppose propriety is the least of our worries now, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.” Juliet had never been much concerned with propriety to begin with. What was the use? She wasn’t a titled lady, an heiress, or even fashionable, and her mother had seen to it not a single aristocrat in London ever said the name Templeton without a snicker or a gasp.
And that wasbeforethis season’s scandal.
“I’d best get on my way, while the daylight still holds.” The daylight in this case was as dark as the deepest pit of Hades, but she couldn’t delay. Everyone knew disasters always struck in the dead of night.
“Oh, dear. I don’t like this, Juliet. What if you get lost? How will I ever find you?”
“I won’t leave the road, my lady. I promise it.” The landlady at The Fox had told them Steeple Cross was visible from the road. As long as she didn’t wander off course, she’d stumble upon it sooner or later.
“You will be careful, won’t you? Your sisters will never forgive me if I lose you somewhere in Oxfordshire.”
“I’ll never forgive you, either. If I must be lost forever, I prefer it to happen in London, preferably somewhere near Gunter’s.” She grinned at Lady Fosberry, then turned to set off down the road, but she hadn’t taken two steps before she turned back again.
Lady Fosberry was huddled under a tree, rain dripping from the brim of her ruined straw hat, looking so small, wet, andalone,Juliet couldn’t force her feet to take another step. Lady Fosberry had been such a good friend to her father, and to all of them. Surely, she deserved better than to be left here in the dark in the wilds of Oxfordshire, at the mercy of the elements and whatever vicious animals were lurking nearby? And what of the highwaymen? This road was notorious for them, and though none had yet appeared, with the way things were going, it was only a matter of time before gangs of them emerged from the darkness.
She hurried back the way she’d come. “Does Fowler keep a pistol, my lady?”
Lady Fosberry blinked. “Who do you intend to shoot?”
“No one, hopefully, as I’d really rather not, but I’d feel ever so much better leaving you here if I knew you had a pistol.”
“Fowler keeps a brace of them, yes, but I’m afraid…” Lady Fosberry cast a stricken glance behind her at the carriage. “He hid them behind the driver’s box before we left The Fox.”
“The driver’s box.” Ofcourse, that’s where they’d be, because the box was the one place she couldn’t reach from the ground. As if a furious storm, a cowardly driver, a carriage accident, and roving bands of brutal highwaymen weren’t enough of a challenge, now she’d have to climb on top of a carriage listing so heavily to one side it looked like a turtle toppled over onto its back.
But there was no use fuming over it, and it was her own fault, for not thinking of the pistols sooner. “Right. I’ll just fetch them, shall I?”
Juliet didn’t give Lady Fosberry a chance to object. She hurried to the carriage, grasped the top edge of one of the wheels and hauled herself up, her feet slipping over the muddy hub. She was able to drag herself over the wheel and squeeze into the narrow space behind the driver’s box, but the carriage rocked, as if making up its mind whether to remain upright or tumble down the hill, and there was an ominous crack, like wood snapping.
“Juliet!” Lady Fosberry’s terrified shriek rent the air. “One of the wheel’s spokes has snapped!”
Juliet widened her stance and grabbed the back of the driver’s seat, bracing herself, though neither would do the least bit of good if the carriage went over the edge.
Crack!
“Oh, my goodness! We’ve lost another spoke. Don’t move, dearest!”
Juliet froze—everything but her heart, which was kicking up enough of a fuss to send the whole equipage lurching down the side of the hill. Even now she could feel the carriage shuddering around her, as if it were readying itself for its inevitable demise. “Where are the pistols?”
