“Yes, my lady.” The butler left the receiving room, moving with remarkable alacrity for a man his age.
“May I read it?” Helen asked.
Kathleen extended the telegram to her, the paper’s edges fluttering like a captured butterfly.
Nate’s breathless voice came from the doorway. He was a small, wiry boy with a mop of rust-colored hair and a round face constellated with freckles. “My dad told me the news from the wire.” Seeing that he had gained both women’s attention, he continued excitedly, “It happened at the bridge, just before the station. A train of ballast wagons was crossing the line and didn’t clear in time. The passenger train crashed into it, and some of the carriages went over the bridge into the River Wey.” The boy’s eyes were huge and round with awe. “More than a dozen people were killed, and another score are missing. My dad says there’s probably some who’ll die in the coming days: They might have their arms and legs torn off, and their bones crushed —”
“Nate,” Helen interrupted, as Kathleen whirled away, “why don’t you run to the kitchen and ask the cook for a biscuit or a heel of gingerbread?”
“Thank you, Lady Helen.”
Kathleen pressed her balled fists against her eyes, digging her knuckles hard against the sockets. Anguished fear caused her to shake from head to toe.
She couldn’t bear knowing that Devon was hurt. At that very moment, that beautiful, arrogant, superbly healthy man was in pain… perhaps frightened… perhaps dying. She let out a coughing breath, and another, and a few hot tears slid between her knuckles. No, she couldn’t let herself cry, there was too much to do. They had to be ready when he arrived. Everything necessary to help him must be instantly available.
“What can I do?” she heard Helen ask behind her.
She dragged her cuffs over her wet cheeks. It was difficult to think; her brain was in a fog. “Tell the twins what’s happened, and make certain they’re not present when the men are brought inside. We don’t know what their condition is, or how severe the injuries are, and… I wouldn’t want the girls to see…”
“Of course.”
Kathleen turned to face her. Blood throbbed in her temples. “I’ll find Mrs. Church,” she said hoarsely. “We’ll need to gather the household medical supplies, and clean sheets and rags —” Her throat closed.
“West is with them,” Helen said, settling a gentle hand on her shoulder. She was very calm, although her face was white and tense. “He’ll take good care of his brother. Don’t forget, the earl is large and very strong. He would survive hazards that other men might not.”
Kathleen nodded automatically. But the words gave her no comfort. Yes, Devon was a big, strapping man, but a railway accident was different from any other kind of disaster. Injuries from collisions and derailments were rarely trifling. It didn’t matter how strong or brave or clever someone was, when he was hurtling along at sixty miles per hour. It all came down to luck… which had always been in short supply for the Ravenel family.
To Kathleen’s relief, the footman who had been dispatched to find Dr. Weeks returned with him promptly. Weeks was a competent, skillful physician who had trained in London. He had come to the estate on the morning of Theo’s accident, and he had been the one to break the news to the Ravenel girls about their brother’s death. Whenever a member of the household was ill, Weeks always arrived promptly, treating the servants with the same consideration and respect that he showed to the Ravenel family. Kathleen had quickly come to like and trust him.
“I haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting Lord Trenear,” Weeks said as he opened his medical cases in one of the bedrooms that had been readied for the soon-to-arrive patients. “I regret that the first time will be on such an occasion.”
“So do I,” Kathleen said, staring fixedly at the contents of the large black cases: plaster bandages, needles and thread, shining metal implements, glass tubes filled with powders, and small bottles of chemicals. A sense of unreality kept sweeping over her as she wondered when Devon would arrive, and what kind of injuries he had sustained.
Dear Lord, this was hideously similar to the morning that Theo had died.
She folded her arms and gripped her elbows, trying to quell the tremors that ran through her frame. The last time Devon had left Eversby Priory, she thought, she had been too cross with him to say good-bye.
“Lady Trenear,” the doctor said gently, “I’m sure this unfortunate situation, and my presence here, must remind you of your husband’s accident. Would it help if I mixed a mild sedative?”
“No, thank you. I want to keep my wits about me. It’s only… I can’t believe… another Ravenel…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
Weeks frowned and stroked his close-trimmed beard as he commented, “The men of this family don’t seem to be gifted with longevity. However, let’s not assume the worst just yet. We’ll learn about Lord Trenear’s condition soon enough.”
As the doctor arranged various items on a table, Kathleen could hear Sims in some distant room, telling a footman to run to the stables and fetch a bundle of training poles for makeshift stretchers. There were sounds of rapid feet on the stairs, and the clanks of hot water cans and pails of coal. Mrs. Church was in the middle of scolding a housemaid who had brought her a dull pair of scissors, but she broke off in mid-sentence.
Kathleen tensed at the abrupt silence. After a moment, the housekeeper’s urgent voice came from the hallway.
“My lady, the family coach is coming along the drive!”
Leaping forward as if scalded, Kathleen bolted from the room. She passed Mrs. Church on the way to the grand staircase.
“Lady Trenear,” the housekeeper exclaimed, following her, “you’ll have a tumble!”
Kathleen ignored the warning, racing headlong down the stairs and out to the portico, where Sims and a group of housemaids and footmen were gathering. Every gaze was on the approaching vehicle.
Even before the wheels had stopped moving, the footman riding on the back had leaped to the ground, and the carriage door had flung open from the inside.
Exclamations rippled through the air as West emerged. He was in appalling condition, his clothing filthy and wet. Everyone tried to gather around him at once.