“It appears as though you could use some relaxing,” he said, his voice light.
The concern she saw in his eyes a moment ago, now shone with mischief.
“Perhaps a bath?” He gestured down the hall to where a young maid disappeared around a corner.
“As you see, my servants have started their day. Perhaps I shall summon someone to fill a basin for you?”
He paused, and grinned. ‘Twas a wicked grin that lifted the corners of his mouth. “On second thought, perhaps two. After all, you did promise to mix me up a magical concoction.”
The clock struck five.
Elizabeth glanced toward the heavily cloaked window.
A breeze blew back the curtain. Through the opening, she could see that darkness still blanketed the ground.
A door opened, creaked on its hinges, then closed.
Could she ignore the persisting feeling of peril tugging on her thoughts? All seemed quiet. Perhaps her vision spoke of another place. Another time.
“I thought I saw William.” Her body tingled.
“Impossible.”
Her head pounded.
She squeezed her temple with her fingers, then closed her eyes.
A familiar bright light flashed in the darkness.
“He has gone--he’s… he’s after Mozart, he’s. . .” Her eyes shot open and she met Philip’s gaze.
A gamut of perplexing emotions spiraled through her. Her Grandmother had told her to hide her gift; but at what cost?
Turmoil spiraled up her chest.
She took a deep breath.
William was in danger. She was certain of it.
“He’s hiding in a room. There’s a candle and-
And--”
Philip grabbed her wrist. “Elizabeth what are you saying?” The muscles of his forearm bunched. He frowned.
She stared transfixed at the vein throbbing in his neck.
In the silence, her thoughts scampered. He thinks me a fool. He’ll never understand. Ignorance leads to cruelty. I mustn’t--
“Elizabeth.” He shook her.
“William is in danger. I cannot tell you how I know this. Please. You must believe me.” She jerked her arm free from his hold and ran down the stairs.
Philip’s footsteps pummeled over the steps behind her. “Mistress Elizabeth. What nonsense is this?”
She reached the landing, not sure which way to go and then she saw Rebecca.
Elizabeth glanced at Philip. A frown twisted his lips. Confusion etched his face.
Without thought, Elizabeth ran down the stairs and followed Rebecca.
“Fire! Fire!” The scream pierced the air, scattering the frozen silence of her mind.
“Hurry,” Elizabeth cried. “This way.”
As they rounded the corner smoke attacked their body, snatched the air from their lungs. From a room two doors away the glow of amber flames illuminated the hall.
“My God. Awake the entire staff,” Philip ordered to the servant whose face reflected the horror Elizabeth saw on his.
A loud bell rang, then several at one time, as other servants too had smelled the acrid smoke and were now pulling on bell cords which resided along the walls.
Chaos, tumbled with panic, as everyone began to run about the smoke-filled halls.
“Nona, have you seen William? Where’s Mary?
“Nay, Your Lordship.”
“Your Lord--” Elizabeth began only to be cut short.
“Tyler, Samuel get buckets. You Lillian, go with Nora and Tessie, check all rooms.” Philip coughed as gaseous fumes accosted the air. “Fill every free hand with a bucket. Now!” He glanced around. “Where the hell is--”
Elizabeth saw Rebecca in the room surrounded by flames and grabbed Philip’s arm. “He’s in the room!” She pointed to the heated pallor. “He’s under the table. The… the one with the claws of a lion.”
Intense fear flashed in his eyes.
Without a moment’s hesitation Philip covered his face with his sleeve and charged into the room.
“Philip!” Elizabeth ran to the door.
A flash of heat seared her face.
She backed up.
Dear Lord. Dear Lord. Pray I am right. Nay wrong. William lay safe in bed. But in her heart she knew he was not.
“Oh Dear God.” Her stomach, clenched tight. Panic, like she had never known before, welled in her throat.
Her gaze transfixed, she stared hard into the thick smoky room.
Crackling flames blurred her vision. Her eyes watered from the abrasive heat.
Shouts erupted from all around her. Footsteps thundered against the hardwood floors.
A woman’s hysterical high pitched shrill rose above the deafening roar.
Elizabeth stared into the burning room, feeling as though she was in the center of a volcano; feeling very small, very isolated and unable to move as a turbulent rumble of disarray erupted all around her.
Chapter Fifteen
His son. Dear God. His son.
“William!” Frantically his gaze darted around the scalding room. Blazing heat seared his skin. Blinding, thick smoke stung his eyes and burnt his throat. He coughed.
Again, he called to his son. But all he could hear above the roar was the frenzied pounding of his heart.
Fear immobilized his mind. Fear that her words were true and his son’s life hung on his ability to find him.
He raised his arm to shield his eyes.
Flames danced along the window sconce from one heavy drapery to the other, then crept their way down toward the floor. Shimmering golden sparks popped as they came in contact with tasseled rugs. Igniting paper crackled, then shriveled to ashes.
Indistinguishable sounds gushed in from the hallway, battering him.
His heart pounded.
He glanced over his shoulder.
The doorframe looked like a gaping wall of fire and ‘twould serve as no means of escape.
Buckets of water were being thrown in from the hall. Splashes hit the back of his legs.
Hissing smoke rose from the charred floor boards.
Thank God, he had not changed into his nightclothes and still wore his boots. Already the soles of his feet felt warm.
A heated blast of flames erupted beside him.
Panic drove a rush of blood through his veins; set his body in motion. With long purposeful strides, he pushed himself deeper into the room where the flames had not yet gathered.
Smoke from behind him, wafted at his back. Creeping amber devils worked their way toward him.
Remembering Elizabeth’s words, he glanced around. In the far corner of the room where the flames had yet to gather, he spotted the clawed table.
“William!” He darted toward the long table and flung himself down on the floor as an exploding blast of heat and flames shot above him.
At the far end, tucked into a ball, William looked up and stared at him. His son’s wide eyes had a faraway look in them. His stone-faced expression appeared frozen with shock; remembered shock, reminiscent of another fire.
“Son. I am here. There is no cause for alarm.” He slid closer and reached out his shaking hand.
Would the boy bolt at his touch? Would he throw a tantrum and thus become uncontrollable to handle?
Philip’s eyes teared from the smoke as he stared at his son, willing him to take his hand.
The heaviness in his lungs constricted his chest. The smoke seemed to suck his body dry and strangle his throat.
Slowly, though he knew time was short, he moved closer and stretched out his arm.
Would his son grab his hand? Would he bolt from his hiding place and be engulfed in flames?
Fear imprisoned Philip as ferocious as the smoldering embers spreading like orange serpents in his direction. His fingers shook more intensely.
William didn’t move.
The fire did. Closer and closer, hopping from one window frame to the other the inferno spread.
Philip glanced to the unlocke
d window not far from William. If he hurried and his son cooperated, there was hope for escape.
Above the roaring flames, he heard William cough. He heard Tyler’s voice issuing orders that more water being tossed into the room; heard the slap of blankets as they beat the floor. Yet he felt like a fiery under-tow was sucking him under and tossing his senses making it almost impossible to think.
He glanced at William…
…at the window…
…at the flames that heated the tips of his toes.
Without further thought to his reaction, Philip got up on his knees, dove forward, hooked his arms under his son, and rolled from under the table. With William securely in his arms, he stood and sprinted toward the window. With his free hand, he pushed open the heavy pane, balanced himself over the frame’s edge and jumped.
***
Elizabeth rushed outside.
The fresh air engulfed her searing throat, and smoke doused cheeks, making her cough.
Her pulse beat erratically as she rounded the corner, praying in earnest that Philip and William were safe.
When she saw him kneeling on the ground, holding William in his arms, her heart jumped in her chest and panic sliced through her.
Did the child live?
A wave of nausea welled up. Her hand jerked to her mouth.
Hurrying to their side, she was afraid to look, then William's foot began to sway.
“Faith, ‘tis true. You are both safe.”
Relief, a bundle of held energy broke forth, pushing the blood through her veins like logs racing down a frenzied river.
Philip cleared his throat. “‘Tis thanks to you.”
She helped him rise.
His brow rose with question and she knew by the perplexed expression on his soot blackened face that an interrogation was not far in coming.
“William--”
“Seems fine for the moment.”
William lay snug against his father’s massive chest. The protective picture they portrayed; one of strength and muscle against the wee small innocence of a child made her heart sigh.
Bewilderment flashed across Philip’s eyes.
It appeared as though he too were a bit taken back by the child’s calmness.
Quickly she drew off her robe and tucked it around William’s body.
He didn’t move.
“Are you sure--?”
“He is well,” Philip assured her. “Is the fire--”
“Almost out.” She stared at Philip’s darkened face. “Are you--”
“I am quite well.” He wheezed then coughed. “Are there any casualties?”
He wasn’t fine.
“None that I am aware of.”
She took a step back. “Tis lucky the fire was near the back of the house and the water.”
An overwhelming need to hold him close, to run her fingers through his tousled hair, overcame her.
Heart fluttered in her breast. She took a deep, calming breath.
“Heaven bestow.”
Mary’s words broke her reverie.
“Me eyes are full of sweetness!”
A group of servants, hurried over behind Mary.
“Hand the child to me.” Mary held out her arms.
Philip hugged William tighter.
“Your Lordship you are hurt,” Elizabeth said, horrified, noticing the red blotchy spot on his arm where the hair had been seared off. “Let me --”
“I must see to the damage.” He turned with William still in his arms.
“But- -”
“Later. Later you will answer to me.” The dismissal, though unavoidable, sent a cold chill to her bones.
***
The cool dawn air felt like an icy inferno stinging his overly sensitive, heated flesh.
His chest heavy with congestion, Philip inhaled deeply and choked from the pain as he exhaled.
His footsteps sluggish, his heart raced at such a speed it felt as though the hollows of his chest could not withstand the heavy pounding 'twas enduring.
How in God's name had Elizabeth known about the fire and William’s whereabouts? The study stood at the end of the other stairwell, at the opposite side of the house. ‘Twas impossible for her to know his son had been on his way to that room. She’d said she had seen him. She couldn't have, not from their position on the stairs. So what in bloody hell was going on?
He stepped through the door.
He wasn’t sure why he believed Elizabeth, but the fear in her eyes convinced him he’d had no choice.
That he could have lost his boy…
His temple throbbed. The unbearable thought, quivered his gut.
The front parlor of his home smelled of smoke as he made his way toward the damaged room. He suspected the lining of his nose would temporarily be embedded with that acrid rankness for some time.
He could hear Tyler issuing orders that the study be cleared of debris and to open all windows.
Mary stepped up from behind him.
He placed William in her arms and she hurried toward the child’s chambers.
Nona and a few other servants followed behind, chatting amongst themselves like twittering birds all chirping at the same time.
His ears, sensitive to the noise, his mind whirled making him lightheaded. He leaned against the wall for support, closed his eyes and held his breath a moment to steady his breathing.
The light touch of a hand startled him. His shoulders jerked.
“Your lordship, you must come with me. “
Elizabeth stared at him intensely. Her green eyes filled with concern.
“Please. The fire is out. William is being cared for. You must let me dress that arm, or it will blister deeply.”
Exhausted, he nodded and let her lead him back outside to the detached kitchen.
Seated at the table, he watched as she pulled various containers from cupboards and began pouring the contents into a bowl.
“How did you know?”
He wasn't sure if she had heard him, or chose to ignore him, but he noticed a slight pause in the motion of the spoon as she continued, to mix her herbs, without glancing up.
“I thought I smelled smoke.” Her words lacked confidence and truth.
“Then, why wouldn't I have?”
She glanced toward him. “I do not know. Perhaps I am more sensitive to smells.”
Though she stared into his eyes, she seemed nervous.
Ceaseless questions hammered his brain; but as he studied those enchanting eyes all inquiries seemed to fade from his thoughts.
Thick lashes fanned her soot dotted cheeks as she glanced down and continued to prepare her mixture.
The tight nightgown she wore pressed against her breasts.
Having given William her sleeping jacket, he could see her dark tipped orbs outlined through the thin fabric. He stared transfixed.
Her breathing quickened.
As he watched the rise and fall of her breasts, he too felt his pulse awaken.
He jerked his gaze away. “How did you know my son was in that room?”
The rhythm of the spoon, scraping against the side of the wooden bowl increased. She dropped the utensil to the table with a thud.
“This salve would work better if I had poplar.”
“We don't use those witches' herbs. “ The tone of Tessie's voice rang with disgust.
Her lips pinched, her brows creased, she entered the kitchen and marched over to the cupboard.
“Tess. What nonsense do you speak?” Philip frowned.
“My grammy used to tell me stories when I was a wee one. Witches used that herb to make a brew to make their brooms fly.”
Elizabeth shot her a look of annoyance. “There never was, and now are, no such things as witches. Only poor misunderstood souls thought as such by ignorant fools. “
He noticed how her stance tightened; how she gripped the bowl, how her knuckles whitened. Why let Tessie's words affect her so?
Again, his thoughts strayed to t
he fire. How had she known his son had been under the table?
“What do you seek?” he bellowed. He didn't believe in witchery. In fact, he agreed with Elizabeth.
“I was asked to fetch a bowl.” Tessie replied.
Why was Elizabeth’s face pinched with anger? Why did she pound the bowl before her with such fury?
“Then do as such and be on your way. “
“Yes, your lordship. “ Tessie grabbed a bowl. “Only--”
“What more do you wish?” he snapped, aggravated by her presence.
“All I'm saying is since she's been here strange things have been happening.”
Elizabeth’s face paled.
“Leave us,” he ordered, concerned.
Tessie scurried from the room.
He got up and stood before Elizabeth. “She clearly has upset you.”
“Nay. I am wrought over the events of this morn, nothing more.” She turned and dripped a ladle into the water bucket on the floor. “Well, perhaps I tire some.” She poured the liquid into a bowl, then indicated he take a seat.
She lied. He didn't care. She had the grace of an angel as she moved with ease toward his chair.
“Let me see your arm.”
At her words, his arm began to throb. He glanced down at the swollen, red flesh. “Why do you let such foolish words upset you?”
How did she know about the fire?
She knelt before him .She was so close he could almost press his lips upon her forehead, and smell the sweetness of her hair. The silky texture beckoned to be touched.
She placed a cool, moist cloth upon his arm.
A wave of pain shot upwards. His gut tightened.
Why doesn’t she answer my questions? What is she hiding?
“I am sorry. This will sting, but I must clean off the dirt.”
“Do what needs be done.” He winced inwardly, but managed a grin.
She glanced up at him and searched his eyes.
“This mixture will help reduce the blistering.”
Be it her touch upon his, or the salve she spread over his arm, but suddenly his feverish skin, which moments ago ached with burning fervor, now diminished to a dull ache.
But a rising, straining, deepening ache began to take its place. An ache that started in the pit of his groin and was working its way through his body, tightening every muscle, stealing away his unanswered questions, jumbling his thoughts.
Rebecca's Ghost Page 17
