by Philippa Carey
Calamity!
“MY goodness, the state of the roads around here is disgraceful,” Lady Nash said to her daughter, Sandra. “It is a mercy the weather is dry otherwise we would be sure to get stuck or slide off the road entirely!
“I have to say I definitely don’t recall coming this way last time. I’m sure I would have remembered such a bad road.
“I do hope the postilions haven’t taken the wrong direction.”
The road was little more than a well-used and rough track full of ruts and bumps.
Their post-chaise was lurching along and swaying from side-to-side on its way to Astwood House, the home of Lady Nash’s sister, Lady Lucy Astwood.
The postilions were going very slowly due to the uneven state of the road and all the dips in the surface, but to the passengers it was debatable as to if this reduced the jolting or merely prolonged the agony.
Sandra passed no comment. She was feeling decidedly queasy and was in no mood for conversation, preferring to concentrate on keeping her lunch where it was.
Suddenly there was a huge cracking noise and the carriage tilted forward abruptly. Fortunately the ladies had been holding on to the straps beside their doors due to all the jolting and shaking.
As a result they were thrown forwards and down against the front panel rather than into the glass windows.
There were cries from outside. Their footman had been flung on to the roof of the carriage from his step at the back.
The postilions cursed and wrestled with the four horses who were rearing in alarm at the noise and the sudden pull back on the shaft as the chaise stopped moving.
The two ladies pulled themselves up and peered out of the windows.
Their forward view was obscured by the part of the chaise holding the two front wheels. These were still attached to the dashboard.
The dashboard was now higher than the front windows of the body which had dropped down to the ground.
That part of the carriage where they had been sitting was tilted sharply downwards. Rather shakily, Sandra opened the door on her side and clambered out.
She looked back at the carriage and saw her mother being helped out of the other door by their footman. The postilions almost had the horses under control now.
The post-chaise appeared to be broken in half and the middle section, where they had been sitting, rested drunkenly on the road.
Sandra stood in shock, trying to work out exactly what had happened. She still felt
