her carriage repaired and waiting. She paused for a moment and then gestured to her maid, who had been attending to something in the baggage coach.
‘We are almost ready to leave, Iris. Please make sure that we have my small trunk with us. If we should suffer another accident, I may need it tonight.’
‘Yes, my lady, of course. I’ll attend to it immediately.’
Arabella stopped to speak to her coachman and one of the grooms who was attending to the horses, discussing a change in plans for that night. Because of the delay, it was possible that they might not reach their planned destination. As she did so, a curricle drove into the inn yard and a man got down. He was dressed in the manner of a dandy—his travelling cloak had six capes, and his cravat was ridiculously high and fussy, especially for a journey into the country.
Arabella tensed as the man threw the reins to his tiger and walked towards the inn. For a moment she wished that she might avoid meeting him, for he was a gentleman she knew and did not much like, but pride came to her rescue. She had no reason to feel embarrassed. Sir Courtney Welch had asked her to marry him a year after Ben’s death. Still raw with grief, she had refused him as politely as she could, but he had taken offence and had later accosted her in a drunken fit. His disgusting behaviour had been one of the reasons she had decided never to marry again. She would rather remain unwed than make the mistake of marrying someone she discovered later that she could not like.
‘Madam,’ he said, bowing to her in an exaggerated manner that was almost an insult. ‘Alas, it seems that you are always leaving when I arrive.’
He could not have failed to notice that Arabella avoided his company whenever possible, but she had always preferred to avoid confrontation with him. She was relieved when Tilda spoke to her, unwittingly saving her from having to reply to his false gallantry.
‘They were much quicker mending the wheel than the landlord thought,’ Tilda observed as she touched Arabella’s arm. ‘But we should go, my dear, it will be dark before we reach Richmond.’
‘Yes, I imagine it will,’ Arabella agreed and allowed herself to be directed towards the carriage. She did not look back at the man she disliked. Had she done so, she would have seen that he was staring after her, his face stark with anger. ‘I had hoped to arrive earlier, but it cannot be helped. I am not sure we shall manage to complete our journey tonight.’ Because the day was overcast it was already darker than she had thought possible for the hour.
‘But we are well protected, Tilda. You need not fear highwaymen. My grooms are all armed and we have several of them. I believe those that make their living from waylaying unwary travellers are more likely to attack unaccompanied carriages.’
‘Yes, I am sure you are right,’ Tilda said, but cast an anxious look from the window of their carriage as if she feared that they might be attacked at any moment. ‘But I shall be glad when we reach London and your aunt’s house. Inns are never so comfortable as one’s own bed.’
Arabella smiled, for she knew that Tilda was of a nervous disposition. She believed herself more than a match for any highwayman and carried a small pistol inside her velvet muff. She did not mention this to her companion—it would only distress her more—but she was glad of it as the light began to fade and the sky grew darker.
They had been travelling for more than an hour and a half when she heard a shout from the driving box and the carriage drew to a sudden halt, shuddering as Arabella and Tilda were both thrown forward. Tilda gave a little cry of fright and looked at her in alarm.
‘Oh, what is it? Do you think a highwayman…?’
Arabella shook her head, but her fingers sought and found the pistol. She would use it if need be! She turned her head as one of the grooms came to open the door of the carriage.
‘What is the matter, Williams?’
‘There is a man lying on the ground just ahead of us, my lady,’ the groom said. ‘I think he has had an accident. It looks as if his horse stumbled and he must have fallen. The horse is nearby and seems to be lame.’
‘Is the man badly hurt?’ Arabella asked, preparing to get down from the carriage.
‘Do be careful,’ Tilda warned. ‘It might be a trap…’
‘No, I do not think so.’
Arabella had seen the figure lying on the ground now. He was not moving at all and she thought it must have been a serious accident. The cause was obvious. A rope had been tied to a tree and then pulled tight across the road so that his horse stumbled. In the fading light the rider would not have seen the sinister device until it was too late.
‘What foul deed has taken place here?’ she asked of her coachman. ‘This must have been deliberate.’
‘The intention was to rob him, my lady. We saw a ruffian make off through the woods as we approached. Had we not arrived so opportunely, it might have ended in murder.’
‘How wicked!’ Arabella shivered and looked about her. It was a lonely spot with thick woods on either side of the road. Just the kind of place that a rogue might lie in wait for the opportunity to attack a lone traveller. She moved closer to the man lying on the ground, catching her breath as she saw his face clearly for the first time. It was Charles Hunter! ‘Is he dead?’ she asked the groom, suddenly anxious.
Williams dropped to his knees, making a swift assessment. He looked up at her, shaking his head. ‘He has been knocked senseless, my lady. There is a nasty blow to the side of his head, but he still has a pulse.’
‘We must take him up with us,’ Arabella said, making her decision at once. ‘If we leave him here, he will almost certainly die, of his injury if not further attack. Be very careful as you lift him, Williams. We shall go immediately to the nearest inn and summon a doctor. He must be examined and treated as soon as possible.’
She watched anxiously as three of her servants combined to lift the unconscious man into the carriage. Climbing in herself unaided, she instructed them to lay his head on her lap so that she might support him.
‘Should you be taking up a stranger like this?’ Tilda asked, giving her a doubtful look. ‘You do not know who he may be. He could be anyone—a thief or a murderer.’
Arabella bit back the sharp retort that leapt to mind. For some reason she was reluctant to tell her cousin that she believed she knew the gentleman’s identity.
‘I do not imagine we are in any danger from him at the moment. It is surely our Christian duty to help him, Tilda. If we left him lying there, we should be heartless creatures indeed.’
‘Yes, that is very true,’ Tilda said, looking slightly ashamed. ‘You are always such a charitable person, Arabella. You put me to the blush.’
‘I know you were only thinking of me,’ Arabella replied.
‘But he is obviously a gentleman and we must help him. Instead of trying for Richmond this evening, we shall go to the nearest inn and take rooms there. A doctor must examine this poor man as quickly as possible.’
‘Yes, of course you are right,’ Tilda agreed, but still looked doubtful. She had not yet become reconciled to her cousin’s habit of taking life in her stride. To her way of thinking, Arabella seemed reckless, a very confident young woman who had
