She went back to the carriage, where the horse now stood patiently in the tracers, the snow coming down all around him. The doctor had cleaned off the burlap sacking the animal had worn as a blanket and replaced it with a warm dry one. It didn't look too badly off, all things considered, but it would have a hard time in this weather, with four people to pull instead of only two.
But she knew they had few other options, and so she patted his nose and offered him some of the fodder the mail coach had carried into the boot, and some warm water in his nose bag, which it drank thirstily.
Blake had returned to the interior of the carriage to get one final burst of warmth. When she was finished tending to the horse's needs, she stepped up into it too and took stock.
"Help me load more fuel into one of these," she said to James.
They crammed it full, and she stuffed one of the others and stood all of the hot water bottles on it. "I'll give you a new one every so often. And here, try this. It will keep you dry, and the wind off you."
She slipped the Macintosh material over Blake's head, and took off her scarf and woolen gloves. She wrapped his head, mouth and nose in the scarf, and then pulled the Macintosh up over it, and handed him the gloves.
He held up his huge hands. "I shall stretch them unmercifully."
"Better that than frost bite or chillblains. Try to drive with one hand if you can. Keep the other one warm in your lap."
He got the gloves on, and looking like some bizarre kind of mole, stepped out into the storm, and climbed onto the box.
She handed him up the foot warmer, and a hot water bottle wrapped in one of the traveling rugs. She placed another rug over his knees.
"If it gets to be too much for you, just stop and come back down. At least you'll have tried."
"I will. I promise. Don't look so worried. Get back inside now, Belle."
With a small wave she left him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As soon as Blake heard the door shut he cracked the whip and the horse creaked forward. He could feel the hooves slipping, though he had wrapped them in burlap while Belle had been tending to the firewood. Still, the animal got enough purchase on the slick surface to move forward. The only problem would be hills. Anything too steep in either direction could easily overset them.
They crawled along, Blake getting colder by the minute. His face and most especially his eyelids stung. Though it was not snowing so heavily now, the flakes coming down were a constant irritation and rendered the carriage lamps almost useless.
Dark shapes loomed up at him so suddenly he had all to do not to jerk the reins and scare the animal, or bring the horse to a complete halt from which they might never be able to start again.
Even traveling so slowly, the carriage bounced, slipped and slid. He hated to think of the damage the three occupants below might be suffering, especially the unconscious Mr. Greengage.
Even more haunting was the pallor and wide-eyed stare of Belle. The poor girl had held up well, but she had to be in a lot of pain. Every chop of the axe must have been torture to her, yet she had brought in fuel in a manner worthy of the best woodsman.
What a rare woman. Tender, compassionate, brave, sensible, not concerned with appearances, able to tolerate hardship. Warm, lovely, sensual…
Stop that, he scolded himself. The girl evidently came from a fairly decent family, though probably well below his. Not that his was so lofty, he thought wryly. But she was so beautiful, she probably had a string of suitors a mile long. Suitors her own age, happy-go-lucky, uncomplicated men who were not haunted by their past, the war, the burdens he still had to bear even after so many years…
Blake wondered when he was ever going to get back to London now. If he had not promised himself at Bath, he might have simply turned around and headed for home.
But he needed to know what had happened to John, his driver. He feared the worst at this stage. He could easily have succumbed to the elements. In any case, when he had set off the storm had not seemed so bad. But who knew what had awaited the young man further up the road? Or what was happening now?
Fortunately, the snow started to abate by ten, and they made steadier progress through the deep drifts. Belle handed him freshly heated bottles through the window about every twenty minutes, and water mixed with a tiny bit of brandy.
Finally even Blake knew his own limitations when he felt himself starting to nod off from the cold. The carriage gave a sudden lurch, and he realized they were perilously close to the edge of a stream. He forced himself not to jerk the reins. Making a few subtle and contained movements, he steered to the left, to good firm solid ground, and halted.