Then he began searching the vehicle to see what would be of use in this crisis.
"Aye, sir." John, a tall rangy brown-haired man with a gap-toothed smile, got down off the box and wrapped himself up anew. He unharnessed one of the horses and tied it to a nearby hedgerow, covering it with some burlap sacking against the raging snow storm.
He disengaged the other, climbed up on its back, and rode off as fast as he dared considering the slippery conditions underfoot, leaving Blake with the carriage full of luggage, traveling rugs, footwarmers and hot water bottles.
Blake grabbed a couple of the rugs and bottles, and his bag of instruments. He ran to see what he could do for the unfortunates still inside. He hoisted the items on top and hauled himself aboard as well.
He peeped in once more at the husband and wife, as he assumed them to be. The man looked about his own age. The woman was jet-haired and pale-skinned so far as he could tell from a glimpse of her brow, but her face was obscured by her shawl, which had flopped upwards as the coach had landed upon its side.
As he sat atop the vehicle and began to lower his supplies down carefully, the woman gave a little groan and tried to move out from under the huge weight squeezing the breath from her lungs.
"Can you hear me, Madam?" he asked.
"Yes, I can."
"Is your companion breathing?"
She moved one hand. "Yes."
"Can you get free?"
"I can try." She wiggled and groaned.
"Where does it hurt?" he asked promptly.
"My side."
"Does it give you pain when you breathe?"
"Only if I take a deep breath," she said weakly.
"I know it must hurt, Madam, but I think your ribs are only bruised. Maybe cracked. I hope not broken."
She continued to try to wriggle out, but her efforts were futile.
Blake finished lowering down the rugs, bottles and his medical bag. "When I come inside, I'll free you as soon as I can. I need to check how badly off he is first."
Her voice was a thready whisper. "I know. We shouldn't really move him. But at this point I have to say that it's freezing, so we can't stay here."
Blake nodded. "That's right. If your injuries don't get the better of you, the cold will."
"Have you found the others?" she asked in a worried tone.
"Not yet. I just arrived. Dr. Sanderson is the name. I stopped to see how badly off the two of you were first. How many more were with you?"
"Just the driver and postillion. They'll be lying up the road somewhere out in the snow."
"I can't leave you to be crushed. Just try to stay calm while I get more supplies and check him. I'll be back in a moment, I promise."
"All right," she wheezed, attempting to breathe a bit more deeply.
Blake retrieved the rest of the rugs and water bottles from his vehicle. He looked at the footwarmers, but they were much too heavy and precarious to manage. He would treat the injured in the coach, leave them in relative warmth, and then head into the storm to find the others.
Time was pressing. It seemed only a few minutes since he had come across the wreck, yet every moment counted in a swirling storm such as this.
He lowered all the items into the overturned coach, and at last eased himself down carefully. "We're going to check him first, then get you out of there. What's your name?"
"Belle," Arabella replied, using her former nanny's nickname for her, which she favored herself rather than her given name.
"All right, Belle. Can you tell me what happened to him just before he got injured?" he asked in a soothing tone.
"The horses bolted and he was thrown forward. I hung on, but the strap he was clinging to snapped. We hit a huge rut and he flew backwards. Then we flipped over. Everything went flying, and the horses kept dragging us until the harness gave way. I think I lost consciousness for a moment. I'm not sure how long we've been here."
Blake worked with his usual quick clinical detachment, running his hands down his patient from head to toe. "He's alive. Badly bruised head. Shoulder dislocated, broken arm, broken leg. I have no idea about the head injury at this point, but I need to move you. I'm going to lift him. You try to wriggle out from under on the count of three. All set? One, two, three."
He raised the injured man around the waist, heaving him about a foot off the ground.
At last Arabella could breathe easily as she felt the huge burden lifted from her. She got to her feet, standing in what had once been the window of the coach, but was now only a patch of partly melted and glass-encrusted snow.
She stood in the corner with the huge doctor towering over her until Blake said, "Take one of the traveling rugs, fold it into four lengthwise, and lay it flat along the side of the carriage there."