The first thing Edith noticed upon opening her eyes was that she was not dead. The second was that she had not overturned the phaeton, which would almost have been worse. Instead, she had careered into the relative safety of a hedgerow. The lantern had fallen and smashed on the road and Edith had to blink several times before she could make out the other vehicle and its occupants.
They had been no less lucky than she, the driver having managed to rein in his horses at the side of the road. He was coming towards her now, a tall, lanky figure in a many-caped driving coat, and as he grew closer, Edith could also see that he was fair-haired and solidly middle-aged and utterly furious.
"What in God's name did you think you were doing, madam?" he snapped as he reached the phaeton. "You've the luck of the deuce, that you didn't overturn!"
It was a nice voice - commanding and, she thought, kind, when not raised in righteous ire against young ladies in phaetons. And he was right, too, damn him. She shouldn't have been driving so fast, in such weather. The snow was so thick about them now that she could barely see two feet in front of her, and small puddles of snow had begun to gather in her lap and on her shoulders.
There was nothing for it but to say, most contritely, "You are quite right, sir. I was driving most recklessly. I - I am sorry to have - "
"Yes, well… you are unharmed, ma'am?" He was still frowning, but as he had interrupted her, his tone had softened.
Edith glanced down at herself. "Quite unharmed, I think - tsst!" She had lifted her hand to brush a curl from her eyes, and her wrist had given a most painful twinge. "Oh, my w-wrist - "
Before she knew what he was about, the gentleman was carefully helping her down from the phaeton, and brushing up the sleeve of her pelisse to feel the bones. "Is - is it broken, do you suppose?" Edith asked.
The gentleman smiled thinly. "If it were, I think you would be making a deal more of a fuss about it. It is just a sprain, I think. But enough to prevent you from driving further this evening, at least."
Her dismay must have shown on her face, for the gentleman insisted, "This is no night for travelling, in any case. Where are you bound?"
"To Town," Edith whispered. "My aunt…"
"Good God, surely you did not think to drive through the night?" he exclaimed and Edith felt herself blushing somewhat sheepishly.
"I… did not precisely - that is to say, I - "
He lifted a thin eyebrow and offered her a crooked, knowing smile. "I see. Well, I think it would be a much better idea if you were to drive on with me to the Green Dragon. We were bound there in any case, and it is no more than half a mile or so out of your way."
"'We'?" Edith echoed faintly and her rescuer gestured behind him.
"Stewart - my valet," he explained.
"Oh. But… my reputation…" She trailed off. Running away from home in the middle of the night was not likely to have done her reputation any good in any case.
Her rescuer drew himself up to his not inconsiderable height. "I assure you, madam, I am not in the habit of ravishing defenceless maidens on freezing roads in the middle of the night!" He sounded rather hurt at the implication and Edith eagerly stretched out a hand to reassure him.
"Oh, no! Pray do not think that I - I was casting any aspersions…" She sighed. "I do not suppose that I have much choice. I shall follow behind you." A little reluctantly, she turned back to her own vehicle. The horses looked hale enough, but her wrist was beginning to ache most unpleasantly and she rather dreaded the prospect of driving, no matter how short a distance she might have to travel.
She was halted by a polite, yet firm hand on her arm. "Your horses will be quite safe with Stewart, I assure you. Please, allow me to drive you."
The short drive to the inn passed more pleasantly than Edith had been expecting. It was snowing much more heavily now, and he had swathed both their laps in a voluminous blanket that his man had produced. He was a far more skilful driver than she, at least - although at this moment, Edith reflected ruefully, that was not a feat that was difficult to achieve. It was enjoyable, though, to watch him handle his horses - and to do so one-handed too! Not even Tom could do that, Edith pondered as they drove. It was beyond all things.
"Might one be permitted to enquire the purpose of your journey?" he asked kindly, once they were underway.
Edith avoided his fleeting gaze. "I - doubtless it will sound very childish, but I was… running away from home."
"Ah. A rather drastic step, ma'am."
Edith swallowed. "Yes. My - my parents are trying to arrange a match for me." She fell silent, unable to continue. Oh, if only she were not so painfully, crushingly awkward! Now that she was driving along with this intelligent, confident gentleman, it all seemed so trivial and impossible to explain.
"And… you did not take to the gentleman?" he asked.
Edith shook her head, biting her lip. "I - we are not acquainted. He is an awful old widower called Anthony Strallan, who wants a wife to give him an heir. And I won't be sold off to a man of whom I know nothing and - " She broke off, breathing heavily in her distress, and finished, more quietly, "And so I ran away."
"I see." He sounded vaguely amused and Edith shot him an irritated glance.
"I am well aware, sir, that to a man such as yourself, it must seem that I am an hysterical young fool," Edith began, quite cross, "but - "
She was cut off by the slowing of the curricle as it entered the inn-yard. Her rescuer handed her down with punctilious politeness. "On the contrary, ma'am. I understand very well what it is, to have your relations only too eager to get one riveted." He looked past her. "Ah, here is Stewart now. Perhaps you would like to speak to the grooms about your horses while I find us rooms."
As he turned away, Edith suddenly caught at his sleeve; he looked down at her with a querying expression on his face and she blushed, looking down at their feet. "I - my reputation… can you not think of some - some story to…"
"Of course," Anthony nodded. "Doubtless, an idea will present itself, my lady."
Ten minutes later, they found themselves being ushered into the inn's parlour and served glasses of mulled wine - "to warm you and your ward through, sir!" - while they awaited their rooms. Now that he was in full light, Edith could see her companion rather better. He had arresting, intelligent blue eyes and when he took off his driving cape, she realised that the reason he had been driving one-handed was because his right arm was bound up in a sling. It only served to make him look more distinguished. As the thought crossed her mind, it brought another hard on its heels: "Oh! I do not even know your name!" She dropped a creditable curtsey. "I am Lady Edith Crawley."
Her rescuer bowed over her proffered hand, his lips just brushing her gloved fingertips in a way that made her shiver with sudden warmth. When he looked up into her eyes, he was smiling somewhat sheepishly. "Sir Anthony Strallan - your servant, madam. I trust you will forgive me if I do not propose immediately?"
