She nodded and got in. She knew he had given her the warmest place, sandwiched in between the two men. She ought to have felt shy, but somehow being with the handsome doctor seemed the most natural thing in the world.
They squeezed in on the seat all together, and for a time they enjoyed the relative warmth of the coach with the four blazes going and soon, the hot water bottles sandwiched in between them.
"I propose food next," Blake said quietly.
"I'll get it. Have a look at Mr. Greengage. Surely he should be showing some signs of coming to by now?"
He shrugged. "It's hard to tell with a head injury. But I hope he will soon. Otherwise I'm afraid the prognosis won't be very good."
There was a small knife in her bag, and some pats of butter. She made four sandwiches, and set one aside in case the sleeping man should wake, though she doubted the wisdom of him being allowed to eat anything. Still, it was a sign of respect that they shared everything together in their wretched plight.
She opened Mr. Greengage's bag and peered in. She made up sandwiches from the supplies as well, beef and cold chicken, as well, four of each, but put them back in the cotton bag in case, as she had begun to suspect, they might have to remain in the coach all night.
Then she looked at the basket that James had explored, and no doubt nibbled from. Venison pie, pasties, some packets of hunting chocolate, a rich fruit cake, and some marzipan were just a few of the delicacies.
Blake looked at her surprised and delighted face. "Might as well have it now. Make it a bit of a picnic."
They fell upon the makeshift feast hungrily. Blake allowed them all one sip of brandy and then passed around the ginger beer. When the bottle was empty he stepped outside and filled it full of snow, before putting it to melt on one of the footwarmers.
When the snow had melted he passed it around. "The cold can really dry you out. Drink up."
"Easy for you to say," Arabella muttered under her breath.
"I understand. You will be careful when you go outside, won't you. Behind the coach is the nearest place so you don't get lost."
"You are a most direct and forthright man," she remarked with a blush.
He avoided her embarrassed gaze. "Just a practical one. I don't want any of us displaying false modesty and wandering off into the middle of a blizzard, now do I?"
"No, I suppose not."
"Tell me, where was the last village you pulled through?"
"It was about seven miles back. Rede Village," James said through a mouthful of beef and cheese.
"What sort?"
"Pretty humble by the looks of things. One inn, not one we would stop at for anything other than picking up and setting down passengers."
"I have to guess that John won't be here for some time. We need to get some rest. The last village I passed through is seven miles the other way. However you look at it, we'll have a fairly cold and rough journey to get to the safety and warmth of an inn through all this snow. We need to keep up our strength. Everyone finish eating, and then we have a nap."
They did as he suggested quite gladly, for they were worn out with the shocks of the day, and knew their ordeal was still nowhere near its end. She made herself as comfortable as she could, leaning into the space between Blake's arm and chest.
He reached up his other hand to tuck the blanket around her more securely, and press her head onto his shoulder. "Sleep now."
He linked his fingers loosely with hers. She was surprised to find, when she heard a small groan beside her some time later, that she had indeed slept soundly.
Blake was awake and alert, his hand now across her body to check on his patient.
Belle got up to move to the other side of the carriage. Blake threw off the blanket and gave it to her as he spoke quietly with Mr. Greengage and asked him where it hurt.
"All over," the younger man said in a daze.
"How is your head?"
"Throbbing."
He reached in his bag and gave him something for the pain, and a small sip of water. "I am going to keep an eye on you for a while. If you can hold down that water, we can let you have a bit more."
He nodded, drank, and sat back again with a sigh. "Are you well, Miss?"
"Not so bad, Mr. Greengage. We've been most fortunate. Had it not been for Dr. Sanderson here, we would have been in very dire straits indeed."
"I can well imagine," he sighed. "My poor uncle, though. He will not get to see me now, I fear. Nor your brother see you either."
Arabella's face fell. All the hours that had ticked past! Peter would be leaving for India soon, and here she was snowed in somewhere in the middle of Berkshire. How was she ever going to get him to change his mind about handing over her guardianship to a nameless, faceless stranger now?