Ravenwood(6)

Elinore heard a low groan and as her eyes adjusted to the ambient light, she thought she could make out a man’s form. She reached out a hand, running it over the wooden slates of the carriage until she touched fabric - his pant leg she thought - and then patted gently.

“Mr. Thistlewaite,” she said again.

“Miss Reed,” came the gasped reply.

Oh thank the Lord, he was, at the very least, alive. “Yes! Are you injured badly? Can I be of assistance?”

It may have been only her hopeful imagination, but it seemed like the rain was letting up some. Elinore was able to crouch down lower to the ground and she squinted into the wreck, trying to see Thistle.

“Are you all right, miss?”

Nervous laughter threatened to bubble up, but Elinore choked it back. She was bruised and a bit battered, but no worse for the wear. “I’m fine, sir. It’s for you I’m concerned. Can you move?”

There was a jolt of wood grinding and a pained groan. “No, miss. I think my leg is broke.”

Elinore grimaced, wondering at the pain he must be in. “Can I do anything for you? Is it possible to free you or make you more comfortable?”

There was another sort of shifting sound and a gasp from Thistle. “No, miss. We’ll need some men to move this carriage.”

Elinore looked around for anything she might be able to use as a lever. There were some broken slats of wood next to her, but she doubted they’d hold up to the weight. Plus, without being able to see exactly what she was doing, she could injure Thistle further. She explained as much to him and he gave a pained chuckle.

“That’s rather thoughtful and industrious of you, Miss Reed, but even if I were free, I doubt very much I’d be going anywhere.”

She supposed he was correct. There was a flash of lightening, but the accompanying thunder was several long seconds behind. She was certain now the rain was passing, the drops lighter on her face. Feeling an ache in her knees from her crouched position, she forwent propriety and sat on the muddy ground. “How long until we’re overdue at the manor?”

There was a pause from Thistle and a wet sounding cough. “I’m not sure, miss. Do you have your shawl, to ward off the chill?”

It was Elinore’s turn for a dry laugh. The man was suffering from a broken leg and possibly more injuries and he was concerned for her warmth. “I have my cloak, Mr. Thistlewaite. I assure you, I’m quite all right.”

“If you can, miss, you should try to get back into the carriage. It’s not safe out here. You’ll catch your death.”

“Thank you, sir, but I am fine.” The rainfall was even less now. At the next crack of lightening it was even longer until the rumble of thunder, and further off. There was a slight wind in the air and as Elinore looked up at the sky, she could see clouds parting - the full moon shining through and giving her enough light to see the wreck of the carriage more fully. The rain was nearly done now, only a fine misting hovering over the area with fat droplets of water coming off the trees. She shivered in the cold and then looked down at the ground by her skirts, seeing a dark stain on the earth. A foreboding sensation crept into her stomach.

“Mr. Thistlewaite, are you bleeding?”

There was a tense silence from under the carriage until he spoke. “I’ll be fine, miss.”

“I daresay, you are considerably more injured than you let on, are you not?”

“The house will realize we are late and send someone along, I’m sure of it.”

The weakness in his voice had her setting her jaw and pushing to her feet. “How far is it to the manor, do you estimate?”

“Miss Reed? What are you doing?”

Elinore stumbled back to the carriage, her boots slipping a bit in the mud and slick. Hoisting herself up, she was able to reach inside and find the small lamp perched precariously on its hook. Still intact. She took a fortifying breath and grabbed the lamp. Setting it down on the ground, she started hunting around the wreckage, sighing in relief when she found the small box from under the carriage also intact. Inside were candles and matches. Within moments, she was able to get the lantern ablaze, casting it about to see more of their situation.

The front of the carriage appeared entirely buckled under. She could make out one of Mr. Thistlewaite’s legs, the other must be the one broken - somehow twisted up beneath him. She could see the darkened earth where a small puddle of blood was forming.

“Mr. Thistlewaite, you are in need of more medical assistance than I can possibly hope to provide. I shall go and fetch help. I assume if I follow the road, I will see the manor from afar, correct?”

Thistlewaite coughed - a wet, slushy sound. “Miss Reed, it’s not safe in these woods.”

Elinore squared her shoulders. “Most creatures are more afraid of me than I of them. As long as I make enough noise, I’m sure I’ll startle them away,” she said pushing all the bravery she could into her voice.

“Miss, there are… things in these woods.”

Elinore’s stomach swooped low and hard at his words, her imagination already conjuring up devils in the night. “Nonsense,” she said briskly, resolved to put on a good face for Thistle. “You are quite injured. I shan’t let you die out here.”

“Please, miss. The manor will send for someone.”

Elinore paused, taking in his words. It wasn’t as though she wanted to go off in the night, with only a lantern. But looking at the blood and the wood strewn about, and Mr. Thistlewaite’s leg, she couldn't imagine sitting there doing nothing for him.