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The hair-raising sound of the horse's scream that filled the air was so foreign to her that she had trouble comprehending what was happening. Almost as disturbing was the silence following the single shot that echoed in the distance.

Mary, Catherine, and Georgiana sat shoulder to shoulder in the carriage, their hands clasped tightly together as they tried to steady their shivering bodies.

The darkness of the night seemed to be closing in, suffocating and heavy with foreboding.

Despite her composed facade, Mrs. Ansley's charges could detect a subtle sense of nervousness in her mannerisms.

After an interlude of waiting for Colonel Fitzwilliam to return, Mrs. Ansley spoke to the groomsman. “Is there any sign of movement?”

Trying to stand on the seat with the assistance of his comrade, he replied, “Some carriages seem to be inching forward at a snail's pace. It appears they have been able to maneuver around the accident.”

“Can you see the colonel?” Miss Catherine was concerned about his extended absence.

If it had been a simple issue, he would have been back already.

It felt as if she was waiting for some horrible news.

As time went on, the likelihood of people having been horribly injured in the accident became more and more probable.

“No, there are people moving around, but it is too dark to tell them apart,” came his response.

Even as they started moving again, they were stuck in limbo, waiting for more information before they could make any decisions about how to proceed. If the accident was bad enough, they were not that far from Darcy and Matlock Houses and could aways send back help.

The driver gasped as they got closer. “I think the carriage is familiar, Mrs. Ansley. I hope I am wrong, but…I think it is the Matlock carriage.”

“Good Lord, how far back are we?” cried Mrs. Ansley.

“Maybe five carriages back now.”

Catherine stuck her head out of the window, straining her eyes as she tried to see anything in the dark, foggy night.

Everything was shadowy and without detail and she could not tell one carriage form another.

“Jameson, can you run to Darcy House? I fear that Colonel Fitzwilliam will be in need of assistance if that is his brother's carriage.”

“Yes miss, I will be back with help as swiftly as possible.” The groom climbed down from his perch and took off into the darkness.

Looking back to those inside the carriage, Catherine could see Georgiana burst into tears. Mary's grip on Georgiana tightened, clearly trying to soothe the younger woman as she cried. Catherine reached out and gripped Georgiana's free hand as she sat numbly in the night.

The colonel’s devastation was palpable, and it broke her heart to see him that way.

When they had pulled even with the accident, Catherine had jumped out of the carriage and gone in search of Theodore.

He had been issuing commands, sending people for supplies and instructing how to move the carriage further out of the way of traffic.

Despite watching him take control of the scene, she could see the cracks forming in the facade that he was presenting to the world.

She could hear his breath hitch every time his eyes drifted towards the silhouette of the blanket-covered body.

It was enough for her to know with a sickening feeling who was under the blanket and just how horrible the accident had been. She had asked in a halting voice how she could help him. His only response was a shake of his head and pursed lips, as if he could not even vocalize what he needed.

Reaching out, she had attempted to clasp his hand in comfort.

He allowed it for a time, but not for long.

Regrettably, he abandoned the moment and redirected his attention towards overseeing things.

The Matlock carriage had to be brought somewhere to possibly be repaired and a single horse laid in front of the ruined carriage.

Catherine's stomach turned at the sight of the animal, its limb twisted at an unnatural angle.

The poor creature's suffering had come to an end with the sound of the shot she heard.

It was evident that the only surviving horse was agitated by the accident and the chaos that unfolded.

It was frantic, shaking its head and stomping in an unhappy fashion.

Part of her had wished that she could help, but in the end, she had gone back to the carriage and rode on to Darcy House.

There were several injured people, but there were also more than enough people to help them.

A man was moving among them with a medical bag dispensing aid and wrapping injuries.

There was no need for her to stay, and she was aware that her presence would probably slow down the demanding work that lay ahead.

As she arrived at Darcy House, she could hear people bustling around, gathering items to aid in the accident. Elizabeth was there to gather Georgiana to her and hold her while she cried. After some time, she began guiding Georgiana up the stairs toward her room.

“He is gone, Lizzie. Cedric is gone.” Georgiana's pain spilled out of her as easily as the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

The group followed behind Elizabeth as she led Georgiana to her room, the air thick with grief. “Oh darling, I am so sorry. Let me help you get out of those clothes and into something comfortable.”

Georgiana looked at Elizabeth with concern. “But what about Artie? Is he all right?”

Smoothing the blonde hair away from Georgiana's face, Elizabeth reassured her. “He has a fever and is congested, but they have him breathing steam. Lydia has taken over the nursery and is directing everything for his care. He will be fine for a few minutes while I am with you.”

“Where is William? Does he know?” The sorrow that consumed Georgiana seemed to have physically diminished her, leaving her looking smaller and fragile.

“He went to go be with Theodore.” Elizabeth’s voice, while quiet, was still strong. It was a strength that they were all going to need.

Catherine watched them go into Georgiana's room, and she moved to her own only two doors down.

She shared a sitting room with Georgiana while Mary shared one with Mrs. Ansley.

Her maid, Lambert, was there waiting for her to help her get ready for bed.

She mechanically went through her bedtime routine, knowing full well she wouldn't be able to sleep.

Even the tea her maid brought her, the relaxing tea Jane always prepared for the family, did not help.

The night dissolved into a tapestry of violet and lavender, as she couldn't shake off the painful memories of the evening, which wrapped around her mind like a veil.

Despite her desire to sleep, to momentarily escape the tragedy that would haunt her and her family, Catherine was still staring at the ceiling above her bed hours later.

The night had been long and difficult, and the day promised to be no better.

She could not recall sleeping, only tossing and turning, and her bed was a tangle of blankets and sheets, thrown about in a disorderly fashion.

Eventually she had given up and got out of bed.

There was no point in lying in the dark any longer.

She slipped into her simple gray gown unassisted as she did not want to call for her maid.

Solitude allowed her mind to untangle the mess of thoughts and emotions whirling around inside her.

Putting her hair up in a simple knot, she went downstairs to see who was about.

The morning room was set with coffee and tea and various breakfast foods.

Despite the early hour, William and Elizabeth were sitting at the table, speaking softly.

They clasped each other's hands as they always did, but this time their grip was tighter, as if seeking comfort in each other's touch during this difficult time.

Passing up the tea that she desperately knew she needed, she went to Elizabeth and gave her a hug.

She craved the human connection even more than the hot cup of comfort.

Wrapped in Elizabeth’s warm embrace, she felt protected and safe from the turbulent sea of her emotions.

At least until she stepped back and had to face the cruel reality of the day.

“Did you manage to sleep at all, Kitty?” Elizabeth looked at her in concern, always looking out for others.

Despite the grim circumstances, Catherine smiled faintly at the use of her sisters’ nickname for her.

Though some people might look askance at such a nickname, Catherine cherished it.

She had often been told the story of how the nickname came to be.

Somehow, when Lydia started talking, she had gone from Catherine to Cat to Kitty, not that she remembered it much.

“I do not think so, but I could not lie there any longer.” Catherine shook her head and moved to get herself a cup of tea.

She added a liberal dash of milk and several lumps of sugar, feeling she would need it for the day before her.

It had not even been twelve hours since she ate supper with Cedric.

He had been so happy and now he was gone.

“I think we will find that most everyone had trouble sleeping. It will be a rough day,” Elizabeth spoke quietly while she stirred her coffee.

“How is Artie doing this morning?” Catherine queried as she moved to sit with her tea.