"Stop the horses! Father is ill!" Alys Margaret Middleton shouted through the box opening. A damp night wind whooshed against her face before she could close the little door above the back facing seat. As the post-boy reined in the cattle, she lost her balance and fell over the prostrate earl.

Wheels grating against gravel echoed in the small compartment. The carriage rocked to a stop at last and Alys regained her seat. Motionless, she held her breath and watched her father's distressed face before kneeling beside the Earl of Osbourne. His labored breathing alarmed her.

The staccato beat of her heart drummed in her ears and she willed herself to be calm. This was no time to be missish. A curtain of dusk hinted at the approaching darkness and heightened her sense of urgency. What should she do?

Worry lines creased his brow. His eyelids flickered open and he tried to speak. He was coming to his senses; elation filled her heart with hope.

Slowly, one of his shaking hands fumbled into the inside pocket of his black coat. The wool garment reeked of tobacco and her nose twitched. Retrieving a sealed letter, he pressed it into Alys' gloved hands. His pain-filled gaze fueled her with panic as it locked on hers.

"Get this to Chichester...to Mr. Clay...find doc..." The earl's whisper was barely audible. Choking, he tried to speak once more, "A secret...promise."

"Papa, I'll get you to a doctor but you must rest now." Alys stuffed the letter into her small reticule, then reached for his limp hand. "You can explain about the missive later, when you are well."

The calmness in her voice didn't extend to her sensibilities. She heard too much strain in his voice, felt too little warmth in his hand. Gazing sadly at the earl, she reflected on the irony that her first trip with her father could also be her last.

No! Panic stuck in her throat at the thought of being alone once more. No. She ordered her nerves to calm down. She mustn't think morbid thoughts when her father needed her help. He will recover. He must. I have no one else in this world but him.

As she made this determination, the earl's eyes closed. Alys touched her father's stubbled face; he did not respond. Fear surged up inside her, causing her heart to race like the horses' pounding hooves. This wouldn't do. She needed her wits about her if she was to be of service to her father in this extremity.

Pressing her hands against her forehead, she prayed for strength.

First she must...what must she do? The creaking of the carriage and the crunch of boots on the road outside warned her that the post-boy would be with her any moment. Before she surrendered her father to a man's care, she had to determine his condition. Alys opened the earl's wool garment and pressed her ear against his waistcoat. The faint, light flutter of his heartbeat wrung her with fear.

How could she see to his needs so far from home? Northampton was one and a half-day's journey back.

"Father, please don't die. Please!" A pain squeezed her heart at the recollection of being alone with her dear mother as she died. More than ever she would persevere; she had done it before. The chilled November night that filled the carriage didn't hold a candle to the coldness spreading through her body.

"I must get control of myself. I must be strong." She whispered the words several times willing herself to believe it as she chaffed her father's limp hands.

The door creaked open. The post-boy peered inside, his mouth half open, gaping at the earl. "What happened to his lor'ship?"

"He's had a seizure and his breathing is not very good." Alys made an effort to keep rising panic out of her voice.

"You want fer me to look at him, milady?" At her nod, the post-boy helped Alys down from the coach then climbed inside. She watched him loosen the earl's neckcloth and unbutton his shirt. She averted her gaze from her father's exposed chest. Proper young ladies did not nurse ailing men or look upon their bare person, regardless of family connection. Instead, she stared into the growing darkness and inhaled the cool, damp air to steady her lurching stomach.

First, she looked up the road for signs of a village. Nothing but moon shadows and trees ahead. Turning in the opposite direction, the same view greeted her. Alys fought rising desperation. She had no experience of travel. How could she secure aid for her father in the back of beyond?