Sarah Mallory - Regency Rogues - Rakes' Redemption - Return of the Runaway (The Infamous Arrandales) / The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)

‘No indeed. Mon Dieu , but you are a heartless woman!’

‘You know nothing about me!’

Tell him, Cassie. Explain how you remained with your husband, endured the pain and humiliation of knowing he only wanted your fortune.

Pride kept her silent. Better Raoul should think her heartless than a fool. She turned on her side and pulled the thin blanket a little closer around her. ‘Oh, how I pray there will be a ship in Rouen that will carry me all the way to England,’ she muttered angrily. ‘The sooner we can say goodbye to one another the better.’

He gave a bark of bitter laughter.

‘Amen to that, my lady!’

It took the best part of the morning to repair the chaise. Discussions with the farmer elicited the information that their meandering route, chosen to minimise the chances of encountering soldiers on the road or passing an army garrison, meant that they were a good half-day’s drive away from Rouen and he doubted they would reach the city before nightfall, but Cassie was as anxious as Raoul to press on and echoed his refusal to remain another night.

She climbed into the chaise and watched Raoul scramble up on to the long-tailed bay. She was thankful he was not in the carriage with her, she did not enjoy travelling in the company of one who disapproved of her so blatantly. He saw her as a rich and spoiled lady who had run away from her marriage when the novelty had begun to pall. It would be useless to explain, because she knew that men saw these things differently. A wife was a mere chattel, was she not?

Cassie looked up as the chaise slowed. The road was winding its way between dilapidated cottages at the edge of a village. Through the window she watched Raoul exchange a few words with the postilion before bringing his horse alongside the carriage. Cassie let down the glass.

‘This is Flagey, it is very small and the post boy tells me there is a much better inn about an hour from here where we may change horses and dine,’ he informed her. ‘If we do not tarry he thinks we may still make Rouen tonight.’

‘Very well, let us push on. I—’ Cassie broke off as a loud rumble, like thunder, filled the air. It shook the ground and the carriage jolted as the horses sidled nervously. ‘What on earth was that?’

Raoul was already looking towards the cluster of buildings ahead of them. Above the roofs a cloud of dust was rising, grey as smoke. The bay threw up its head as the church bell began to toll.

‘An accident of some sort,’ he said, kicking his horse on. Cantering around the bend, he saw that a large building had collapsed on the far side of the village square. People were already congregating at the scene. Some of the women were wailing, a few holding crying babies, but most were helping the men to drag away the stones and rubble.

Raoul threw the horse’s reins to a woman with a babe in her arms and immediately ran forward to help, casting his jacket aside as he went.

‘How many men are in there?’ he demanded as he joined the rescuers.

One of the men stopped to drag a grimy sleeve across his brow.

‘Eight, ten, perhaps more. ’Tis the tithe barn. They were working to secure the roof before the winter when the timbers collapsed.’

Raoul joined the group, scrabbling at the wreckage. The dust was still rising from the debris, making everyone cough. It was clear that the roof had collapsed inwards, bringing down parts of the old walls. Muffled shouts and screams could be heard, so there were survivors, but Raoul knew they must reach them and quickly.

The first man they pulled out had a broken arm, but the next was badly crushed and groaning pitifully. An old woman standing beside Raoul crossed herself before trying to drag away another rotted timber. There would be more crushed bodies, more broken limbs.

‘You will need a doctor. Or better still, a surgeon.’

‘Dr Bonnaire is ten miles away, monsieur. ’ The old woman took a moment to straighten up, pressing her hand to her back. She nodded to a group of young men working frantically to pull away more stones. ‘Jean can go, he is the fastest runner.’

‘Take the horse.’

Raoul heard Cassandra’s voice and turned to see her leading the bay forward.

She said again, ‘Take the horse. It will be much quicker to ride.’

‘Then let me go,’ said an older man, stepping up. ‘I can handle a horse and Jean’s strength would be better used getting those poor fellows out.’

‘Good idea,’ agreed Raoul.

He watched the man mount up and gallop away, calculating how long it would take the doctor to get there.

‘What can I do?’ asked Cassandra.

‘Where is the carriage?’

‘I have told the post boy to drive to the auberge at the far end of the village. What may I do to help you?’

He regarded her as she stood before him. She was too petite to be of help moving the rubble; her hands were unused to any type of work at all. He was also afraid that they would be bringing bodies out soon and he did not want her to witness the carnage. He looked towards a group of women and children crying noisily as they watched the proceedings.

‘Get them away,’ he muttered. ‘They are doing no good here.’

‘Of course.’

She nodded and Raoul went back to the laborious process of dragging away the rubble stone by stone.

As word of the disaster spread more people turned up to help with the rescue. Raoul left them to finish digging out the survivors while he attended those they had already pulled out of the building. He had not wanted to reveal that he was a medical man, but there was no sign of the doctor and these people needed his help.

After sluicing himself down at the village pump he went to the nearest house, where the injured men had been taken. There were four so far: a quick glance showed him that the man who had been severely crushed would not survive. There was nothing he could do for the fellow so he left him to the care of the local priest while he set the broken arm and patched up the others as best he could. Thankfully they were not seriously hurt, but others were being carried in, each one bringing with him the damp, dusty smell of the collapsed building. He had no instruments and his equipment was limited to the bandages piled on a table, but there was hot water in a kettle hanging over the fire and a large flask of white brandy to ease the suffering of the injured men.

It was growing dark and Raoul was working alone in the little room when he heard the thud of horses and the sudden commotion outside the door. The doctor, at last. He looked up, his relief tempered by surprise when he saw a fresh-faced young man enter the room.

‘You are Dr Bonnaire?’

‘Yes. And you are?’

‘Duval. My wife and I were passing through here when the accident happened.’

‘It was good of you to stay and help.’ Dr Bonnaire looked about him. ‘Are all the men recovered, did everyone survive?’

‘Everyone is accounted for now, nine men in all. Two are dead, four had only slight injuries. I patched them up and sent them home. These three are the most seriously injured.’ He nodded to a man sitting by the fire. ‘I have set his arm, but he has also had a blow to the head and is not yet able to stand.’ He walked over to the two men lying on makeshift beds. ‘These two are the worst. They were both trapped by their legs.’

As Bonnaire knelt beside the first of the men Raoul heard a soft voice behind him.

‘I thought you would need more light.’ Cassandra came in, followed by three of the village women, each one of them carrying lamps and candlesticks. ‘We collected these from the other houses.’

The doctor shot to his feet. ‘How thoughtful of you, Madame...?’