Marrying Miss Martha by Anna Jacobs Page A

him. “I fear you’re hurt, sir. Can we do anything to help you?”
    He opened his eyes and turned towards her, but didn’t seem able to speak coherently, only groan then mumble, “Think I’ve—broken my arm”.
    She looked round for help but the coachman of the wrecked carriage, a surly-looking fellow, was still trying to disentangle his horses, one of which looked wild with fear. Even as she watched, he yelled to their groom to come and help him before the creature damaged itself.
    Martha beckoned to her sister. “I think we’d better get this gentleman into our carriage.”
    The two of them supported the injured man as carefully as they could, but he moaned in pain when he stumbled getting into their carriage.
    As Martha brushed the snowflakes from her bonnet and shoulders, she was relieved to see him sink down on the seat and lean back against the corner because she’d been afraid he would faint. He was still supporting his right arm with his left and his face was now as white as the snow whirling down outside.
    “We’ll have to get him to a doctor to set the bone,” said Sally in a low voice. She leaned out of the carriage to call to the driver of the other vehicle, “Hey you! Where's the nearest village?”
    But the man just shrugged and when she called to their own coachman, Tom said, “I don’t know this road well enough, Mrs Polby, I’m afraid.”
    When the horses were freed, he came to check that his passengers were all right. “Shall I help the gentleman out and get him into his own carriage, Miss Merridene? I think it’s propped up steady now. We can send help back to him.”
    The other man had followed Tom across. “There’ll be no use him staying here, miss. It’ll be tomorrow at the earliest afore I get away because I’ll have to wait for a new wheel to be fitted.” He looked at his passenger. “You’d best hire another vehicle, sir, and get yourself home where people can look after you.”
    The gentleman roused himself to glare at him. “Then give me my money back.”
    “I ha’nt got it. It’s my master you should see about that.”
    “Damn you, how am I to continue without money?”
    “I think we’d better take you to a doctor before we decide anything else, sir,” Martha said soothingly and looked at Tom. “We’ll have to stop in the next village.”
    “Mr Merridene wouldn’t like this,” he grumbled. “It’s not safe taking up strangers, let alone this gentleman’s not our responsibility.”
    “We can’t leave him here with a broken arm!” Martha snapped, thinking that even Edward’s servants had adopted his mean-spirited attitude towards the world. “Kindly get his luggage and stow it with ours.”
    Tom jerked his head towards the groom, who did this with ill grace before swinging up into his place again.
    “Sorry to be so much trouble,” muttered the stranger, groaning involuntarily as the carriage jerked into movement.
    “We couldn’t pass by and leave you in distress.”
    Martha studied him surreptitiously. He was quite young, with a thin face, full lips and fine, mousy hair. This had obviously been crimped with hot irons to give it a fashionable curl but was looking rather limp now. He was wearing side whiskers and had left a tuft of hair growing on his chin, not large enough to be called a beard. This must be the latest London fashion, though she couldn’t like it. His neck cloth was now somewhat battered, but had obviously been very high, and though his cravat had slipped sideways a little, it was still tied in an over-large bow.
    She was sure her father would have called him a coxcomb and become very stiff when dealing with him. Indeed, she felt the same way herself, hadn’t taken to him at all. But still, she couldn’t feel it right to leave him.
    He leaned back in the corner, wincing as the carriage bumped along, but although the movement tried him considerably, he insisted on talking.
    “Allow me to introduce myself—Peter Brindley—” He