“It is possible,” said Miss Marling stiffly, “that Frederick and not Mary will have the ordering of the journey.”
Vidal chuckled. “Not if I know my Mary,” he replied.
Twenty minutes later they took the road again. Dinner had revived Miss Marling’s spirits, and she made no demur at entering the chaise again. Knowing that she was within reach of her Frederick she could not now drive fast enough, and her only fear was that they might overshoot their mark. Somewhere on the route Frederick and Mary must have halted for the night, and Miss Marling was inclined to stop at every village they passed, in case the fugitives might be there.
She occupied herself in planning the scene that lay before her, and had decided on the speech she would make when there was a sudden crash, and she was hurled against the side of the chaise. There was a dreadful bump, the smash of breaking glass, and Miss Marling, considerably shaken and dazed, tried to right herself only to find that the seat of the coach was now at a very odd angle, and the off-door almost where the roof should have been. She heard the trampling of the horses plunging in alarm, and the voices of the postillions. Then the off-door was wrenched open, and Vidal said sharply: “Are you hurt, Ju?”
“No, but what has happened? — Oh, I have cut myself! Oh, this dreadful glass! It is too bad of you, Dominic! I said we were driving at a wicked pace, and now see what has happened!”
“We’ve lost a wheel,” explained his lordship. “Reach up your hands to me, and I’ll pull you out.”
This feat was performed in an expeditious if somewhat rough-and-ready fashion. Juliana was swung down on to the road, and left to examine her hurts while his lordship went to see that the frightened horses were unhurt. When he came back he found his cousin in a state of seething indignation. She demanded to know where they were, how he proposed to come up with the runaways, where they were to sleep, and whether anyone cared enough to bind up her bleeding hand or not.
The Marquis performed this office for her by the light of one of the chaise lamps, and told her not to be in a taking over a mere scratch. He said that they were, providentially, only a quarter of a mile from the next village, where they could obtain a lodging for the night in one of the cottages.
“What?” shrieked the afflicted Miss Marling. “Sleep in a horrid peasant’s cottage? I won’t! You must find another chaise at once! At once, Vidal, do you hear?”
“I hear,” said his lordship coolly. “Now, don’t be nonsensical, Juliana. You’ll do well enough. For all I know there may be an inn you can stay at, though I won’t vouch for the sheets. There’s no hope of repairing the chaise till the morning, for Richards will have to ride to the nearest town to find a smith. I’m sending him off now, and for the present you must make the best of it. We shall catch our runaways in time, don’t doubt it.”