The Value of Pity progresses slowly. There’s been a terrible accident. Here’s a bit for WIP Wednesday.
People were milling around and hollering— she had no idea what they said—panic rose.
Find Arthur. Find Arthur. Find Arthur. Find Arthur.
He could be somewhere in the tangle of wheels and wood, but when she saw him, he lay to the right of the crumpled phaeton. Twisted on one side Arthur lay closer to the landau, his legs behind its wheels. As she approached, a man reached down to pull him out from under the vehicle.
No. He might be broken. You’ll make it worse. “Stop! His bones?”
That man unbent and scratched his head. “Bones lady? We need to get him out of here.”
“Wait.” She studied the angle at which he lay. They would have to turn him unto his back. Best to do it once.
“Fetch a board we can lay him on,” she ordered.
The man glanced down and back, frowning at Athena.
“Do as she says, unless you have a better idea.” Parker’s voice.
She fell to her knees behind Arthur where he faced away from her toward the landau, and leaned over him. She put a finger to his neck, warm under her cold fingers, relieved to feel his heart beat.
“Is he alive?” The coachman asked.
“His heart is beating.”
“You need to come away, Miss Catherine,” he said.
“No. Fetch a board to put Arthur on. Lord Rochlin on.” She was supposed to call him by his title especially to servants.
More people had come; they were busy with the overturned phaeton. Someone began to scream.
Arthur needs me. Arthur needs me. Look only at him. Don’t think of the sounds. She knelt in the cobbles rocking back and forth, her eyes on him, pictures from anatomy books flashing through her mind. Bones. She sorted the images for ones that would help. Which are likely broken? All of them perhaps.
Note: excerpts from works in progress have not yet been edited, will likely undergo change, and may not even make it into the final work!