Page 10 of The Good Fortune of Miss Robbins

“I can’t get out,” she wailed. “And my hand is bleeding.”

She held up her hand, but there was only a small amount of blood, the wound appearing to be only a scratch.

I lifted my head with the intention of asking the men to assist her, but they were already approaching.

Lord Brookhaven took my elbow without speaking and helped me down. Then he took my place on the side of the carriage, while the woman’s father positioned himself on the other side. Lying on their stomachs, they both reached in and pulled her up, while she cried out, “Oh no! That won’t—Take care not to—I can’t get my—oh! My hair.”

A few strands of her hair had caught on something, and Lord Brookhaven freed them with one hand while holding her wrist in his other hand.

When she was out, she lay on the side of the carriage with outstretched arms. It put me in mind of a painting I’d once seen of a sailor splayed out on the beach who’d been washed ashore, nearly drowned.

Her father nudged her arm. “Millicent, you must get up. Come, come.”

The man dragged her by her arm, and when her legs slid over the side, she screamed.

He and Lord Brookhaven took her by her elbows until her feet touched the ground.

“Oh.” She let out a loud breath and started trying to pin her hair back up. “What a ridiculous, wretched business this is,” she was saying, still crying. “Who ever heard of a carriage overturning.” Then she suddenly cried out again. “Oh! Oh, merciful—!” She was staring as a drop of blood dripped from the back of her hand.

A moment later, her eyes started to close and she stumbled to the side.

Her father caught her and lowered her the rest of the way onto the ground, mumbling something I didn’t quite catch. Was he thinking what I was thinking? That it was a wonder she’d swooned at the relatively small amount of blood on her hand but hadn’t seemed to notice the much greater amount of blood running down her father’s face?

I’d never swooned at the sight of blood, but I had once chased a fox away from a baby rabbit. The little thing was sitting in the bushes, very still except for its fast breathing. I tried to shoo it back to its mother and even nudged it with my foot. When I did, it moved slightly and made a terrible little sound. That was when I saw the blood on its badly mangled back foot, and my vision started going black. I had to step away, hang my head, and take deep breaths to keep from fainting. So I shouldn’t judge this young woman for nearly swooning after such a terrifying event as a carriage accident.

The young woman—he’d called her Millicent—was moaning, her eyes closed. Poor thing. I dug my handkerchief out of the reticule that dangled from my wrist and knelt beside her.

I gently took the woman’s injured hand and helped her sit up. “It’s just a small cut. Nothing to worry about,” I told her. “I’ll wrap it so you don’t have to see it.” I did just that with one of my best handkerchiefs and tied the ends together. “There. Does it feel better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She stared at me as though seeing me for the first time. “I am Millicent Skidmore of Shropshire.”

“Charlotte Robbins. I’m the new governess for Lord Brookhaven’s wards.”

Her smile faltered when I said the wordgoverness, but she recovered quickly and whispered, “Lord Brookhaven? The Earl of Brookhaven?”

“Yes.” The earl was talking with Mr. Skidmore, and they were far enough away that they couldn’t hear our whispered conversation.

“And he lives nearby?” she asked.

“His estate is just beyond those trees.”

“An earl. Oh my.” She held her hand to her throat and stared hard at Lord Brookhaven, her eyes fairly dancing. “He is very good to stop and offer his assistance.” Her attention turned to the broken, overturned carriage and she sighed. “We were traveling to the seaside to visit relatives and take the sea air, but now...”

Mr. Skidmore took a step toward us. “Lord Brookhaven has graciously agreed to stow our carriage on his estate until we return, and we will hire a coach to take us the rest of the way.”

Miss Millicent Skidmore smiled at Lord Brookhaven as she rose. “You are very kind to go to so much trouble for us.”

He did not smile back. “It is no trouble.” Lord Brookhaven then looked directly at me. “You will be all right while I go to the village to inquire about a coach and driver.” He said it as a statement rather than a question.

“Yes, of course. I will stay with them.”

With a curt nod, he remounted his horse and rode away.

Mr. Skidmore talked of the weather and the roads and their incompetent driver, whom he assumed had done something to cause the horses to bolt. The horses were surprisingly unharmed by the accident, as they had come untethered from the carriage when it overturned. They stood grazing only a few feet away, still harnessed to each other.

After Lord Brookhaven left to hire them a carriage, the Skidmores began to ask about him. They obviously considered themselves superior to me, but they weren’t above asking me if Lord Brookhaven was very wealthy and if he had a wife or was engaged to be married. I answered them as simply as I could, telling them I hardly knew anything about his private affairs and that I’d only arrived at the estate the day before.

Lord Brookhaven soon returned, a hired coach distantly behind him. “What did you wish to do about your driver?” He inclined his head toward the road behind them.